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marvelouspeterparker · 4 years

Text

professor’s sweetheart

pairing: professor!tom holland x student!reader

summary: professor holland teaches british literature at your university. you hadn’t expected much when you signed up for the course, but the experience is everything and more than you could have hoped for.

word count: 15.1k

warnings: there is smut in here but it’s not the main focus (wild, i know)

notes: uh yeah i’d say just don’t fuck your professor? this is purely fictional. be safe, you know how it is <3

also she wrote a professor!harry styles fic, but if i hadn’t read that (over and over) i probably wouldn’t have been inspired to write this. so check out @songbirdstyles !

i listened to this playlist while writing it if ur interested :)

give me feedback please!!

“What class do you have next?” Your friend, and roommate Liz asked. You were both walking out of the cafeteria. It was 1:15, you had just finished lunch and you had fifteen minutes until your next class. You pushed the doors open together and braced yourselves as the cool late September breeze hit you, blowing your jackets open. You put both sides of the jacket together in front of you and crossed your arms to block the cold out.

“Um,” you thought back for a moment, the cold temporarily knocking your senses right out of you. “British Literature.”

If you were being honest, you had taken this course because it fulfilled one of your requirements, but in the end it felt like one of the most rewarding parts of your college experience so far. The material was interesting, and instead of being bored out of your mind throughout the whole hour and a half of class––it was actually entertaining. You had your professor to thank for that.

“Oooh,” Liz twisted her lips to the side to suppress a knowing smile, but the look in her eyes gave it away. “With Professor Holland?” She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue to hide your smile. “Yes,” you shoved her playfully to the side making her step in a pile of leaves, the crunch under boots loud as ever as it carried through the crisp air. “Shut up.”

You and Liz had been roommates since your first year at university and had now spent four, coming up on five semesters rooming together. Luckily, you really hit it off, and easily fell into a routine together, forming a bond as you ate lunch and dinner together, studied in the library, had dance parties in your dorm, and more. You knew each other inside and out, often having random late night conversations while you procrastinated your work or couldn’t sleep, about literally anything and everything. Bottom line is, you trusted each other, which is why she knew about your sort-of-crush on Professor Holland.

To be fair everyone had a thing for him, he was just that kind of guy. He was sweet and compassionate and funny. Professor Holland was one of those genuine professors who sincerely cared about their students and their well-beings. He was incredibly understanding. He’d schedule dozens of meetings with his students all in one day just because he wanted to help and make sure they were all alright. He liked to check in every now and then, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

From what you could tell he also seemed like a people person. No matter who he was with, whether it was a student, his teaching assistant Jacob, or his fellow professors––he was always attentive, cracking jokes, enjoying the conversation. Everyone seemed to love him. But you could also tell that a part of him was just a tad bit cocky, but in a joking and love-able way.

All this goes to show that you spent way too much time thinking about him, and observing him, which could either be seen as really endearing or really creepy.

“Look I’m just saying,” Liz shrugged, “Enjoy the class.” She nudged you, “I know I would.”

Realizing you were approaching the writing and arts center, and Liz’s next class was in the building across the street, you sent her off. “Yeah yeah, okay. Bye.” You tightened your arms around you and scurried off, skipping a crack in the sidewalk and walking up the steps to the building. You opened the door and were immediately welcomed by a rush of warm air and let out a sigh, rubbing your hands together as you made your way to the lecture hall.

You pulled your phone out and checked the time, 1:22. You still had 8 minutes to spare. You were still walking and only glanced up from your phone right as you were about to walk into the door and were stopped suddenly when you crashed into a hard chest. You immediately felt two warm hands grasp your arms to steady you and were suddenly enveloped by the smell of tea and mint.

“Woah! I’m sorry, love, are you alright?”

You froze as you looked up, feeling very much like a deer in headlights as you realized you quite literally crashed into your professor. “Oh––um,” you swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air was escaping you. You cleared your throat trying to save yourself from anymore embarrassment. “I’m fine––I’m sorry, that was my fault. I wasn’t looking––” You paused when you noticed the small smile on his face, his warm eyes making you forget what you were going to say.

“It’s alright, Y/N. It was partially my fault as well, I was too focused on––” he seemed to snap out of some trance, straightening himself up as his hands dropped back down to his sides and into his pockets. “Uh, well that’s not important.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket––he was wearing those blue slacks that you thought made his thighs look great, respectfully, of course. He checked the time on his watch and you had to stop yourself from ogling the veins in his arms as he did so.

He looked up at you, brows furrowed playfully and you actually had to remind yourself to breathe. “You’re almost ten minutes early. You that eager to see me?” He ended his question with a teasing smirk and your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed to string together a response.

“I––um, I just really like this class and you––you’re my favorite professor.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating up as you realized what you just admitted. You had to force your eyes to go back to their normal size after they practically bulged at the realization of what you said. “And I mean, I just happened to get here early so...I thought I might as well get settled in.”

Your professor cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile as he glanced down at his shoes for a moment then back up at you. “Well then.” He extended his arm, pointing towards the open door of the hall and stepped aside. “Please, after you.”

You gave him a small smile in return along with a quiet thank you and stepped through the door. But before you could walk over to your seat, you felt him lean over behind you to talk lowly in your ear. He was standing a respectably close distance, but his presence was so overwhelming it was as though you felt him everywhere. His breath caressed the smooth skin of your cheek as he spoke.

“I’m technically not allowed to have favorites, but I do appreciate that you enjoy having me as your professor, darling.” It shouldn’t have had such an effect on you, really, it shouldn’t have. But something about him referring to himself by his title really did something to you. You took a sharp inhale as you stood up straight, your whole body on high alert as you turned your head towards him, your eyes refusing to look at his and instead finding solace in the fabric of his navy blue button up––which he’d rolled up to his forearms.

“And if it means anything, I rather do enjoy having you in my class as well.” You snuck a peek at him, lifting your gaze slowly and only caught a glimpse of his soft lips as he smiled before walking over to his desk.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you walked up the steps to your usual spot in the middle row, near the aisle. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, and the man hadn’t even touched you––well not in the way you wanted him to, anyway. But enough of that.

You checked your phone again, trying to calm down your heartbeat as you took in a deep breath, 1:28. People started shuffling into the class, the overlapping sounds of chatter and laughter rupturing the energy the room had when it was just the two of you. At 1:32 Professor Holland started the class, getting everyone’s attention smoother than anyone should be able to. You could almost feel everyone’s eyes focusing on him, some weren’t even listening to him, they were just so entranced by how good he looked and the way he sounded––his accent was just so endearing, you had to admit it.

The hour and a half went by rather quickly but today you were more aware of yourself, of Professor Holland––even more than usual. It seemed as though his eyes would travel to your direction more often, after he made jokes as if to see your reaction, or while he paused in his speeches.

At the end of the class, despite there being dozens of other students moving around you, you felt as though your professor was watching you as you made your way out of the room. But it had to be your imagination, there was just no way.

When you got back to your dorm, Liz still wasn’t back yet so you decided to take a shower and spend some time relaxing. You had already done your work for the next day and your other work for the rest of the week––well, you decided you’d do it later.

You changed into sweats after your shower and hopped on your bed, deciding to switch between your apps for an hour or so––honestly you’d lost track of time. Liz strolled in soon after, closing the door with a loud groan, throwing her bag on the floor.

You smiled, looking up at her from your lying position on the bed. “Hello to you too.”

She grumbled in response, finally looking at you. When she noticed you were already wearing your pajamas she pointed to you, her brows raised. “Good idea!” She immediately went to her drawers and picked out a random pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, changing with lightning speed for someone who was sluggishly groaning not even a minute before.

She grabbed her phone and sat on her bed opposite yours, cross-legged, facing you. She looked at your face for a few seconds before squinting her eyes at you. “You have something to say. Spill.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face.

She looked at you pointedly, “Well go on.”

So you told her about your encounter with the infamous brit today, how you bumped into him, what he said to you, the glances he sent your way. When you finished recounting everything you took a deep breath, “But––this could all just be in my head you know, just me overreacting.”

She stared at you with a dead expression. “Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hey!”

She ignored you, rolling her eyes while she tried not to laugh. “Dude he totally wants to fuck you.” She said nonchalantly.

Your eyes bulged, “W–What do you––What?”

“Oh please, it’s so obvious.”

You opened your mouth but when nothing came out, you paused and looked down at the carpet. After a few moments you looked back up at her to find her with a knowing smirk on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am, when am I not?” When you were about to speak, she interrupted you. “Don’t answer that. But look, it seems like he’s into you. I think you should hit that.”

“But we––that’s not allowed!” You paused, “Is it?”

She laughed, “A ha! So you do want to!”

“Oh shut up, you already knew that. Everyone wants to, it’s not a big deal.”

She made a face, “Yes, but you’re the only one who actually has a chance at getting it.”

You looked at her, a skeptical look on your face. “Even if that was true––he’s still my professor…”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah but it’s not like it’s in the handbook or anything. Plus, you’re both legal adults, so. There you have it. You’re free to bone.”

“You did not just say that.”

“But I did.” She smiled, lying down in her bed. “You really could, though. Just don’t tell anybody.” When you didn’t say anything else, she spoke up. “Okay I’m gonna take a nap now. You have a lot to think about.”

You ignored the last part and went back to your phone, “Yeah you do that.”

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and night you couldn’t stop thinking about this whole situation. This was bad...Or was it? It seemed all too complicated, that was for sure. You weren’t even sure he looked at you or thought of you that way.

You fell asleep playing all the pros and cons of hypothetically getting with him, your mind an endless loop of your professor, his voice, how he sounded when he practically whispered that he liked being your teacher. This was all too much.

❊❊❊❊

All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. The tongue, teeth and lips following and leaving marks everywhere the hands traced. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. Your eyes locked in on the ones staring up at you with pure hunger and awe as you ground yourself down on his cock.

“That’s it darling, just like that. You’re doing so good for me.” His lips curved into that oh so familiar smirk. “I taught you well, didn’t I?”

You woke up sweaty, your shirt sticking to your torso, a wet patch on your panties, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of your dorm room. A sex dream. Of course you had a fucking sex dream about him. Fuck. You were just lucky that your next class with him was on Thursday so you didn’t have to see him today. Because that would not help you at all.

You checked the time on your phone, squinting at the brightness before turning it all the way down, 10am. You got out of bed with a groan and took your toiletries bag and your towel to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower this morning, instead of later on at night. Lord knows you certainly needed one. A cold one too.

You were frustrated, frustrated with yourself for feeling this way about your professor––sure, he was only a few years older than you, but it was the principle of the matter––frustrated that you were overthinking this entire thing, and most importantly you were annoyed because you were extremely horny.

When you got into the bathroom, you locked the door and set your stuff down. You put your hands on both sides of the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. Who are we and what happened? You sighed and grabbed your toothbrush, brushing your teeth quickly and aggressively, since everything seemed to be a hassle this morning. You’d hoped that once you hopped in the shower, you’d calm down.

When you made your way inside, you sighed contently at the feeling of the warm water pattering against your skin, freshening you up immediately. Your nipples were still hard, between your legs still wet. So you brought a hand down between your thighs, the other to your breast as you stood under the water––almost as though the water was washing away the sinful act and thoughts right at the source. You laughed at the thought, nope, nothing can wash this away.

You squeezed your breast and tugged at your nipple, rubbing your sensitive bud just the way you liked. You were still sensitive from...your dream, so it didn’t take long for everything to build up. You couldn’t help yourself, your mind brought back the remnants of last night that you remembered, the way his hands gripped you when he steadied you, the way his arms looked, and you came with a whimper that was louder than you would have liked. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the tiles as the water continued to fall on you.

When you came back to your dorm, Liz was on her way out but she stopped, raising her brows at you, “So have you come to a conclusion?”

You walked past her into the dorm, “Go to class, Liz.” You heard her cackle down the hallway as you closed the door.

You got dressed casually, not rushing since there was nowhere for you to go and decided to go to the local cafe near the school. You needed to clear your head and get some work done, and you definitely would not get any of it done in your dorm. Not today, anyway.

You checked the weather and seeing that it was a little warmer today, you put a sweatshirt on, grabbed your bag along with your phone and your laptop and you were on your way. The breeze felt refreshing this morning as you stepped out of your dorm. Your walk to the cafe was only ten or so minutes but it felt good.

Stepping into the little shop, you were immediately hit by the aroma of coffee and sweets, surrounded by the sound of light chatter and utensils clattering on the wooden tables. The warm light above you brought a sense of comfort as you made your way over to the counter. The line was rather short so you managed to order your usual drink and snack quickly. As you were waiting for the cashier to hand you your things, your eyes scanned the shop––the ambience was rather nice and the talking almost felt like background noises. You wouldn’t mind staying here to work.

As you gathered your things, you turned around in search of a free table––which would be the deciding factor in whether or not you would stay, you did not want to awkwardly share the small table space with some stranger. You took a few steps into the seating area and almost choked on your breath when you made eye contact with the last person you wanted to see today.

He smiled charmingly at you, teeth and all and quickly made his way over before you even had a chance to think of escaping. “Y/N!” He stood in front of you, his eyes bright. He was actually happy to see you? He was always happy to see everyone, it didn’t mean anything.

His voice snapped you out of your annoyingly loud thoughts. “Fancy seeing you here.” He nudged you playfully, “How are you?” He was wearing a very tight white button up that was unbuttoned until the third, showing a generous amount of his chest, a grey suit and pants, along with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It took you a few more seconds than it should have to process that there were actual words coming out of his mouth.

You forced a smile onto your face but the more you looked into his eyes, the more genuine it became, almost impossible to wipe off. “I’m good. Was just grabbing breakfast before I start my work. You?”

He raised his cup, “Same as you. Have a bit of time before my next class.”

You noticed that you couldn’t tell what exactly was in the cup and your curiosity got the better of you. You pointed to the cup clasped in his fingers, “Is that coffee?”

He furrowed his brows in mock offense, “I only drink tea, darling.” He leaned his upper body forward to whisper to you, his cheek almost touching yours, “I’d think you would know that about your favorite professor.” He tutted playfully as he stood up straight again, watching you, a look that you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his eyes as he watched you over his cup, taking a teasingly long sip.

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, not a clue what to respond. When he pulled the cup away from his mouth he looked down at you, his gaze drifting down and you’d never felt more exposed, despite the fact that you were wearing two layers of clothing. “I like your sweatshirt.” He smiled, glancing down at it before looking directly into your eyes, his head lowered slightly.

Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped down to see your spiderman sweatshirt looking back at you boldly. Oh––Oh. You lifted your head back up to find him still smiling at you softly, he didn’t seem to be teasing you at all. “Um thanks.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, despite the cool air that swept your legs as someone opened the door to the cafe. “Are you uh–– a marvel fan?”

He pursed his lips playfully, “Yeah,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah you could say that.” He licked his lips and took another sip of his drink.

Your eyes, with a mind of their own, trailed down the column of his throat, following the vein on the side of his neck, the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the warm liquid. The action almost seemed provocative, in both meanings of the term.

Suddenly you felt very hot and you knew that you had to get out of there before you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone, but most importantly him. You perked up, “I uh––I have to go professor, but it was nice talking with you. See you tomorrow!” With that you quite literally ran off, wincing as you turned around, having noticed the way his lips parted as if to speak, a furrow between his brows appearing out of confusion and concern. You really had to get control of yourself.

You practically berated yourself as you speed walked away. God, that was so stupid. And not to mention, incredibly rude! He’d probably be upset with you now, or maybe even mad. It’s just––unbelievable what he did to you, without even actually doing anything. It took you the entire walk there to realize that you unconsciously made your way back to your dorm––so much for the library. But you’d had enough social interaction for today, so you decided you’d stay there.

You got in your bed and buried yourself under the covers, deciding you needed the comfort of being hidden in your mattress after the embarrassment you’d just experienced. You lied there just staring at the plain, white ceiling for way too long until you let out a loud huff and sat up, before grabbing your computer to start your work.

Deciding to check your college email before you started, since they were incessant and it was easy to miss something, you scanned down the list of messages in your inbox. Your eyes skimmed through the boxes on the left of your screen, notifications that your professors left feedback on your assignments, the weekly newsletter, club events, a message from Holland, Tom––

You shut your computer immediately, eyes bulging as you held your breath. You swallowed thickly, as you stared into nothing in front of you, your eyes barely taking in anything, your mind a big ball of fuzz.

After taking a few deep breaths, and telling your overdramatic brain to calm down, you opened the laptop again. Biting your lip, you hovered your mouse over the message, reading over the small bits of information you could see in the preview.

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N, I just wanted to make …

You could feel your heart beating through your chest. Oh God––Wanted to make sure what?? The sensible part of your brain said to just open it to figure it out for yourself. But the irrational, idiotic part of your brain was yelling at you to not open it under any circumstance. What if he wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea? Did he know how you felt about him? Were you that obvious? Maybe he thinks you’re clinically insane and wants to make sure you’re getting the attention you need? You did run off like a crazy person, after all.

You shut your eyes tight and groaned loudly into your hands. Liz walked in and whistled lowly, taking in everything in front of her. You looked up, confused and looked at the time, realizing it had already been two hours since you first left the dorm, meaning she was done with her classes for the day.

“What’s up?” She took a seat at her desk, propping her legs on the table as she leaned back.

You waved her off, deciding it would be best to let this blow over and ignore it for now. You’d go back when you were in the right state of mind.

She started telling you about her day and annoyingly, your brain decided today would be the day that it would not shut off. Your brows were furrowed as you tried your best to focus on what your friend was saying, but she wasn’t even looking in your direction, staring up into the air above her as she spoke animated, hands waving around, so she didn’t even notice you struggling to pay attention.

Your eyes kept flitting back to the screen of your computer, your fingers swiping across the trackpad to turn it back on when the screen’s brightness lowered every now and then.

Liz looked back at you and stopped her spiel. “Alright what’s up with you?”

You sighed deeply and looked up at her. “Sorry, sorry. I just––I saw Professor Holland today––”

“Already?” She interrupted you, a goofy smile on her face. “Damn, you work fast.”

You threw the nearest pillow at her, “Shut up! I didn’t fuck him.”

“You should’ve.” She pointed out, holding the pillow to her chest.

You glared at her until she raised her hands in surrender, then continued, your eyes bouncing from object to object in the room as you babbled.

“I went to the cafe and I saw him and he came over to me and we started talking––and he whispered in my ear and he was joking around with me and he sipped his tea and he was super close to me and super hot, and I couldn’t handle it so I basically ran off without giving him a chance to say bye.” You took a deep breath, “And then he sent me an email after I saw him and I still haven’t opened it because I’m scared and I don’t know what he said…” You took another breath and looked at your friend, blinking as she just stared at you.

After a moment, she spoke up. “Dude just open the email.”

Your eyes widened almost in offense. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“Yeah you practically fucked in the cafe then you got scared and ran away.” She spoke nonchalantly and you could tell she was fighting off a smile. “Look, eventually you have to open the email anyway, you can’t just ignore it. So just do it and rip the bandaid off.” You were about to speak up when she interrupted you, “I promise it won’t be half as bad as you think. We both know your mind is absolutely filled with the craziest ideas.”

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, not bothering to argue since you both knew she was right.

“Shit, I’m starving.” She looked at the time, “Yeah it’s about time for me to eat food.” She stood up, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Can you please get something for me?” She knew you well enough that you didn’t have to tell her what to get. You gave her your best smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“Are you serious.” She looked at you, deadpan, standing like the little emoji of the woman standing in place with her arms at her sides.

You had to suppress your smile, “What if I see him?” You asked incredulously, lying further in the covers. “I’d rather stay in here and hide, for now.”

“You have class with him tomorrow––”

“That’s why I said for now.”

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her things, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you!”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved her hand and walked out the door.

A few moments passed after Liz left and you sat up yet again, putting your computer on your lap as you swiped the trackpad, making the screen light up again. You checked the time, it had been almost an hour since he sent the email, you really shouldn’t make him wait any longer. Not that he’s waiting at all, he probably didn’t even notice that you hadn’t responded.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, swallowed your nerves and clicked on the email.

Holland, Tom

Just checking in

Hi Y/N,

I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. You seemed kind of stressed when you left earlier and I’m hoping it wasn’t because of anything I did. Can we check in tomorrow in my office? Hope everything is going well.

Warmest Regards,

Professor Holland

He wanted to meet tomorrow after class. In his office. Alone.

Oh, fuck. You could hear Liz in your head going Yes, fuck. But you quickly shoved her aside.

You read over the email about five times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting anything, because that would be even more embarrassing. You clicked the reply button and slowly wrote out your response.

Hi Professor Holland,

Everything is fine, but thank you for asking, I appreciate the concern. I’m free tomorrow after class if you’re available then.

Thank you!

Y/N

You hit send and not even two minutes later, you received a response.

Hi Y/N,

Perfect! I’ll see you then :)

Warmly,

Professor Holland

How on earth were you supposed to focus on your work now? More importantly, how were you going to focus in class tomorrow?

❊❊❊❊

The next day, the butterflies in your stomach would not calm down. When you stepped into the class, he was talking to another student and you tried to sneak past to your seat unnoticed. You thought you’d succeeded but once you sat down and looked up, you made direct eye contact with him and you swear you stopped breathing. You barely even recognized the sound of everyone moving around you, getting ready for class to start.

He parted his lips and reluctantly turned back to the student still talking to him, snapping out of his daze, but not after glancing back at you. You swallowed and sank down in your seat. This was going to be a long class.

At 1:35, class started. Professor Holland stood up and clasped his hands, making his way to the middle of the floor in front of everybody, his voice reverberating through the room.

“Good afternoon everybody. Hope you’re all doing well.” His eyes found yours and you bit your lip nervously. You could see him swallow as he watched you, before moving his gaze elsewhere. Was that because of you? Surely, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe you made him uncomfortable. Oh great––

He went on, seemingly unfazed, eyes darting back to you subtly before continuing. The discussion soon turned to the book you’d just been assigned to read. The book was rather lengthy but there were always so many things to talk about within only a few pages––which you loved, so it was taking you all a while to go through everything together in class.

The conversations often took up a lot of the class time since Professor Holland simply loved talking and he always found everyone’s interpretations interesting and worth exploring––eager to hear our classmates perspectives. He also often said that he was not good at using technology, so he preferred to just talk and show rather than use his computer. Honestly, you found it endearing.

The conversations were always interesting to listen to, people never failed to give you insight on things you hadn’t even thought of before, but sometimes––some people were just a little stupid.

Someone brought up a slightly sexist point that made absolutely no sense but since you weren’t the one to call someone out in front of a room full of people, you stuck to your facial reactions instead of audibly responding. You turned back to the front of the class to see Professor Holland’s opinion to find that he was watching you, trying and failing to suppress his smile.

He put both hands in his pockets which you found ironic considering they would jump out any time soon––he loved to talk with his hands. His eyes got serious, the smile on his face a little less friendly as he addressed the sophomore who made the comment. “I don’t know if you’re aware of how ludicrously sexist that comment you just made was, but now you know.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Remember to think before you speak. This isn’t to necessarily call anyone out. It’s a warning. Senseless remarks will not only affect my view of you, but your grades as well.”

He went on and tried to shape the boy’s comment into something appropriate to discuss and you honestly couldn’t focus on anything else he said, you were just looking at him in awe and in shock. Sure, this was the bare minimum, but since it was so rare to see, it was very noticeable and even impressive when you noticed it.

God, you adored this man.

Near the end of class, he announced the next assignment, a paper you’d have to write about a comparison you made between any point in the story, a character, a theme, a hidden meaning, etc. and something in our modern reality, a social norm, a popular belief, etc. Your essays were always very open ended in this class, giving you room to write about almost anything you wanted to. Your professor knew that the assignments would be more enjoyable if there was some choice involved. He truly was good at his job.

“Look, reading’s hard sometimes, I get it. I’m dyslexic, so trust me, I understand. But I never let that stop me.” He paused to look around the room and it was so silent you could hear each other’s inhales and exhales. The power he had over a room full of around one hundred people was insane, and in a weird way, also turned you on. “I know the book is massive. Listen to the audio books if you have to, I don’t mind. But get the work done either way. It’s not for me, it’s for you. I want you to get the best grade you can in this class.”

“Bring me interesting material. I don’t want to fall asleep reading your work.” He joked and smiled proudly when laughter filled the room. “The essay is due in two weeks. Good luck.”

There were a few thank you’s and goodbyes scattered around the room as he sent everyone off, people scurrying from all sides to the exits.

You took your time gathering all your things and took a deep breath when the last few people made their way out, silence soon surrounding the both of you. You put your bag over your shoulder and walked down the carpeted steps, suddenly finding the dark grey pattern to be the most interesting things you’ve ever seen––and also watching your steps so that you don’t fall down them in front of him. You could barely hear the soft patter of your shoes as you walked down. When you finally got the main floor you looked up and saw him waiting for you patiently, things in his hands, a smile on his face.

“Let’s go then, shall we?” You nodded shyly and he led the way, his office only a hallway away from the lecture hall. You found it slightly odd that he didn’t try to make conversation on your way there, since he always loved to. But you tried not to think too hard about it. Maybe he was just tired.

When you reached his office, he opened the door and let you walk in first. Your eyes immediately scanned the room out of curiosity as you stepped inside, noticing his desk, the wood a dark mahogany which was covered with stacks of papers, picture frames, pens, and a few marvel funko pops––so he really was a fan. You’d never actually been inside of his office before. It was an intimidating thought for you to be in his office with him, alone. You just didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

You turned to him and gestured to the chair across from his desk, “Do I just––”

“Please,” he interrupted eagerly. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You took a seat and he set his things down next to his desk before sitting as well. His hair was coiffed to perfection today, curls sculpted nicely, a dark blue suit on his body with a black shirt underneath. He took off the suit jacket and put it on the back of his chair and you could see his veins and muscles bulging and shifting in his arms as he moved. He clasped his hands in front of him on the desk and wow he had nice fingers. You really had to get a grip on yourself––

“How was class today for you? Well, besides that one disappointing comment.”

You smiled, “I always enjoy the class, but yeah that was uh, disappointing as you said.

“I think your interpretations are always very insightful and very interesting. It’s almost a shame that you don’t share them with the whole class but part of me likes it that we keep them between us.” Oh? “Plus, I know how scary it can be talking in front of all those people. I almost shit myself first time I taught that class––”

You let out a surprised laughter and he couldn’t help laugh as well.

“Shit, sorry! I mean––” He sighed, “Language, sorry. I’m British.” He shrugged, “Can’t help it.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay. Personally I think curse words spice up conversations.” You smiled proudly when he laughed at your joke.

His smile radiated a more nervous energy after his laughter died off. “When you ran off yesterday, that wasn’t––was that because of me? Because if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, trying to think of a way to explain. “No it wasn’t, well––it kind of was?” You had no idea why you would tell him this, but apparently your mouth was moving without agreeing with your mind first.

There was almost a pout on his face and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and smooth it out with your lips. “It’s just, well––You make me just a little bit nervous, to be honest professor.” You looked down at your lap and back up at him timidly.

He raised his brows, “Oh––”

Your smile was strained and you wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by the floor.

“Well that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He looked at you almost, hopefully?

You laughed, “No trust me, it’s not.” Your eyes widened at the realization of what you’d basically just admitted to him and you didn’t know if you should feel embarrassed or relieved when the smirk appeared on his face.

But the words that he uttered next cleared that up for you. “Well, if I’m honest, you make me nervous too, darling. And definitely not in a bad way.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, almost teasing you with how good he looked.

You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, crossing your legs, your thighs squeezing together, and he definitely noticed, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked his lips as well.

The tension in the room was so thick but you found that you didn’t want to escape it, if anything you wanted to carve your way through it, stay for as long as you could until it snapped.

Your professor spread his legs, his hands coming down to rub at his thighs as he watched you and the sound of your heartbeat pounding filled your ears. It was almost as if there was an unseen force pulling the two of you together, but before it could there was a knock at the door.

The both of your heads snapped to the door to find it opening slowly. Jacob, Tom’s teaching assistant popped his head in. You had talked to him a few times, he was always very nice. He didn’t attend every class, but you guessed that he would be attending the next one. “Hey man.” He turned to you and smiled, “Oh hi Y/N.” You waved and let out a small hi in response. He turned back to the professor. “Your next class is starting like––” He looked at his watch. “Now.”

“Shit, sorry man. Lost track of time.” He got up and you did too, smiling sheepishly as you grabbed your things, getting up from your seat. “I’ll be right there.” Jacob nodded and closed the door.

You both made your way over to the exit slowly, still reeling from what maybe could have happened and what you both obviously thought of. The silence was loud around you, but it wasn’t scary this time.

“Let me know if you need any help with the upcoming assignment, alright? Don’t be afraid to stop by if you need to.” His gaze dropped down to your lips for a split second before reaching your eyes again. “For anything.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t describe but quickly tried to mask it with a smile as he opened the door for you, his eyes practically holding yours captive.

“Thank you, professor. I will.”

You stepped out and he watched you for a few moments before closing the door. You looked back, smiling as you caught his eye and as soon as he stepped back in the office, you practically ran out of the building and to your dorm, a stupid grin on your face.

“Holy shit.”

❊❊❊❊

When you practically burst into your dorm room, scaring Liz half to death before you told her what happened, let’s just say she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“I fucking told you!” She flopped onto her bed, still staring at you pointedly as she did so, a smirk on her face. She pointed at you before dropping her hand down dramatically by her side. “You like, owe me a soda now or something.”

You rolled your eyes but you were so giddy the smile still hadn’t dropped from your face. “Well I do owe you for getting me lunch yesterday, so maybe I will buy you one.”

❊❊❊❊

Over the weekend, you started working on the essay for British Literature and you were already about halfway done since the topic you chose actually interested you. But you found yourself questioning if you were writing it properly as you went on. You weren’t sure if it was because you wanted it to be near perfect since you’d found out he paid extra attention to you, or maybe you just wanted to talk to him again––you’d never know.

After discussing with Liz, you decided you’d stop by his office on Monday afternoon once you were done with your classes. You knew he liked to stay in his office until late at night sometimes, he always said we could stop by whenever, if we needed something. So you decided to take advantage of that, shoving down your anxious thoughts and doing what you wanted.

Liz may or may not have convinced you to wear a shirt that was––aesthetically pleasing, to put it, specifically in the chest area so you were more than eager to see your professor’s reaction. You were a little nervous, you didn’t want it to seem like you were trying too hard, but you thought you looked good in this shirt, and you had a right to feel good about yourself. Since it was a little chilly outside, you hid it under a sweatshirt for now.

You got to his office and found yourself staring at the dark wood, hesitating to knock on. After taking a deep breath you rapped your knuckles against the door.

You heard a faint Come in! And you took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to find him sitting at his desk, “Hi Professor Holland.” He was finishing some notes on a student’s essay but his head snapped up immediately at the sound of your voice.

He dropped his pen and sat up, “Please,” he motioned to the seat across from his desk and you smiled gratefully before settling down. “What can I do for you? Everything alright?”

His eyes looked sincere and concerned and you could feel your insides melting a little bit.

“I just––I really want to do well on this essay,” He nodded for you to continue, “But I’m just not sure if I’m going in the right direction.”

He nodded understandingly, “Well let’s have a look, shall we?”

You reached down to grab your things when he stood up and walked past you, your eyes following him in confusion. He gestured to the couch, a somewhat impish smile on his face. “Just thought it would be more comfortable––and easier for us to look together, of course.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you picked up your bag and sat next to him on the couch. “Right, of course.” It was a loveseat so there wasn’t much room for either of you to distance yourselves.

You got out your computer and opened up the essay. You had already opened it before you got there, not wanting to have to awkwardly wait for it to load. Yes, you overthought things but––it helped sometimes. “I see you came prepared,” he joked and you couldn’t help but smile. He really did notice everything, didn’t he.

“Well I’m really confident about the topic of my essay, I think it’s interesting. But I feel like I may be adding too much into the paper, and I’m not sure if I’m overthinking things or if I should take some things out.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I meant it when I said I appreciate having you in my class, you know. I always love reading your work. You write well.”

“Thank you, professor.” Though you saw his eyes darken at the title, he commented on it.

“You can call me Tom when we’re alone, darling. No need for formalities.”

“But I like calling you professor––” Your hand shot up to cover your mouth and you spoke before he could, ignoring his smile, “I mean um. Tom––Okay I can try that.”

His tongue passed under his teeth, a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you squirm under his gaze. “No you know, now I think professor is growing on me.”

You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Prof––Tom.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alright alright.”

“Why don’t you read it to me? It’s easier to see where you can improve when you hear it out loud.”

You swallowed nervously, nodding your head as you brought your laptop closer to you. “O––Okay.”

You started reading your paper out loud, voice becoming slightly steadier as you went on, two fingers scrolling up the trackpad. He made comments as you read, only praise––and with each compliment you felt yourself getting hotter. Very good. Always write so well. Nice point there. Mhm. Good girl, that’s an excellent point. He shifted his way closer to you gradually as you read on and when his thigh touched yours, you had to tell yourself not to jump from the contact.

He placed his arm on the back of the couch, basically around your shoulder and you had to smush down the urge to throw your computer and climb into his lap. His thighs did look very inviting with the way he was sitting, though.

He moved closer to you and you could feel his breath cascading down over your shoulder as he brought his hand to the trackpad, his arm over your thigh, fingers scrolling through to where he had a few suggestions.

When he finished his few remarks, you could hear the proud smile in his voice. “See, I knew it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. You’re a good writer...” He paused and you turned your head slightly to find his lips mere inches from yours, his eyes trained on your mouth. His words were barely a whisper when he spoke up again, “A good student.” You both leaned in slowly and his hand came up to hold your cheek lightly. “Bet you’d be a good girl for me too.”

You gasped lightly and leaned forward, giving in and finally pressing your lips to his, both your hands grabbing his jaw. He moaned immediately, his body pressing into yours as you twisted to face him, his other hand coming around your waist to pull you in. You felt your laptop slipping off your thighs and squeaked, making the both of you laugh and pull away, flustered.

“Careful, love.” Tom grabbed the computer and put it down on the floor gently, confirming that you saved your work before pushing the lid closed.

The air in the room was hot, thanks to Tom in general, but also thanks to what you just did. So you pulled away and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Tom’s pout when he thought you were getting up to leave. Since there wasn’t much space on the couch, you stood up to take your hoodie off and you heard his breath hitch when his eyes fell upon the shirt you were wearing. “Christ-”

“Now what’s this?” Tom said almost to himself, his eyes staring at you in wonder and awe. “Never seen this little number before.” He noticed the clothes you wore? His hands were already aching to feel you again, reaching out for you subconsciously and you bit your lip to calm your smile as you sat back down, letting your sweater fall to the floor softly.

“What, this old thing?” You joked, looking down at the shirt––yeah, you looked good. “You like it?” You looked up at him, a cheekily innocent look in your eyes.

He put his hands around your waist and pulled you into his lap, enjoying the gasp it elicited from you. You put your hands gingerly on his shoulders and the way he was looking up at you made you never want to leave this position ever again. You tilted your head and licked your lips and Tom couldn’t take it anymore, he kissed you again, hands gripping you firmly, anchoring you to him. He pulled away after a good while, wanting to look at you again, his lips parted, practically panting like an animal. You really had an effect on him, but he did the same to you.

His eyes were taking you in, basically capturing a mental image for later. “God, you look heavenly, darling.” You squirmed in his lap and bit your lip when you felt a bulge growing underneath you. He leaned forward and left a trail of kisses on the tops of your breasts, leaving a few teasing nips and sucks here and there. You squealed, your hands coming up to run your fingers through his hair. You pulled his head up by his hair and the look in his eyes looked absolutely feral––like he wanted to eat you.

You were about to lean in and kiss him again when a knock at the door surprised the both of you. You both jumped off of the couch as Tom threw out excuses. “Yeah just a second!” You straightened out your shirt as Tom did the same to his pants and you picked up your things.

When he saw that you were settled, he took a deep breath and answered the door. His colleague and best friend Professor Osterfield, was standing there, a grin on his face. “You div, are you ever going to be on time for our monthly meetings?––” He stood up straight when he noticed you standing behind Tom. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” He looked between the two of you and it seemed as though he pieced everything together. Maybe Tom had told him about you? If he did, you wouldn’t be worried Tom didn’t seem like the type to tell unreliable people his business––and they were best friends after all.

You smiled at him in acknowledgement as moved aside to let you pass. “Sorry,” you looked between the both of them, “I’ll let you get to whatever you have to go to.” You looked at Tom once you were out of his office, “Thank you for the feedback, professor.”

You could see him fighting off his smirk before he replied, “Of course.” His stare was impenetrable as he looked at you, “Feel free to come by whenever.” You could see the hidden meaning in his words and let the hint of a smile show, before nodding and walking off.

Harrison looked at him, a pitiful smile on his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing, mate. You should be careful, for the both of you.”

Tom sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. “I know, man. Let’s go.”

❊❊❊❊

You found yourself missing Tom as soon as you left. God, this was kind of pathetic. But at least your feelings weren’t necessarily one sided––he did say you made him nervous too after all. You doubt he’d say that if he just wanted to fuck you––he was better than most men. And sure you might be a little biased, but at the end of the day he had a good heart and he was educated. So bonus.

When you stepped into your dorm, your roommate was sitting on her bed, snacks in hand as she looked at you expectantly. “Now these,” she gestured to the food on her bed, “are either for a story time, to rebuild your energy or both.”

You laughed and changed into your pajamas, starting to tell your best friend about everything that just happened. She often interrupted with her reactions and comments.

Oh. My. God.

Shut. Up.

You’re fucking lying!

“But we didn’t fuck.”

“Boo––”

“Yes, boo.” You laughed, “Professor Osterfield knocked at the door and dragged him off to a meeting so.” You shrugged.

“Professor Osterfield...is that the hot blond one?” You nodded and she continued expressing her feelings for the man. “I’d let him teach me a few things––”

“Literally bye.”

She laughed, “What? Come on have you seen him––”

“I’m a little preoccupied with another professor to be honest.”

She nodded, handing you a bag of chips as you settled in your bed. “True. And oh how lucky you are.” You smiled in agreement.

❊❊❊❊

Today was the day the essay was due and though you normally handed it in at the beginning of class, for once, you didn’t and you could feel Tom’s gaze following you as you walked up the steps to your seat without so much as a glance in his direction. You’d stopped by his office a few times over the past two weeks since Harrison interrupted you, but you never did anything more than kissing and grinding. You were both too scared of getting caught, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t thought about doing more in there.

Tom liked to have physical copies of the essays, just in case technology decides it’s against him (his words), so everyone had until 8pm tonight to drop it off by his office. You were definitely going to use that to your advantage.

You didn’t wear anything provocative to class, you didn’t really want that kind of attention today, plus you knew that Tom’s interest in you wasn’t solely based on your appearance. So you put the revealing items on under your clothing. And honestly, the thought that no one knew what you were wearing underneath it all only excited you even further.

You crossed your legs, relieving your tension and biting your lip as class went on, enjoying how flustered Tom would be every time he looked at you. You felt so submissive when you were alone with him, but when you were in public like this? Free to tease him subtly from a distance? That’s where you had all the power.

You had him blushing and stuttering throughout the whole class, though it wouldn’t have been easy for everyone else to notice, for you it was so obvious. He kept rubbing his hands together, pacing around as his eyes darted to you every few minutes. At one point he went over to sit down at his desk, which he rarely did while teaching––and you were fairly certain it was to hide a bulge in his pants. All thanks to you.

In the middle of the class, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and pulled it out just to see if it was an emergency. You were pleasantly surprised and could feel your whole body react when you noticed who the message was from.

Tom: Having fun, are you?

Your eyes shot up to the front of the room and you bit your lip to contain your smile when you noticed him glaring at you.

Y/N: I always have fun in this class, professor ;)

You put your phone away afterwards and focused on the class, knowing it was killing Tom that you weren’t giving him more attention. Your heart was racing and your panties had a wet patch by the time class was over. You had a feeling he was going to try to keep you after class, so you hurried up and gathered your things, sighing in relief when a few students went up to his desk to talk to him.

You smirked to yourself and headed straight for the door, your head high on your shoulders. But just as you were about two feet from the exit, Tom spoke up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned around, eyes slightly widening as you noticed him, the group of students near him.

He smirked slyly, “To turn in your paper, remember?” His eyes were giving you a knowing look.

You swallowed, nodding as you smiled at him innocently. “Of course, professor.” You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened only slightly, only noticeable to you. “See you then.” With that you walked out.

❊❊❊❊

You practically skipped to his office at around 7:45, before knocking at the door, four knocks in a specific pattern––the code you’d made together.

“Come in, darling!”

You walked in and quickly shut the door, a chuckle escaping you. “You know someone could hear you from the outside one day, right?”

He shrugged, “I’ll just blame it on my accent. Could call everyone darling, they don’t know any better.”

You laughed. “Okay well––Professor Holland,” you said, loving the way he looked at you when you uttered his title. “I brought this for you.” You took out the printed essay and placed it on his desk.

He pushed his chair out, his eyes following your every move as he spread his legs. “Oh is that right?”

You took the invitation and took your reserved seat in his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you looked down at him. “Mhm, still want a good grade in this class you know. You are my favorite professor after all.”

He smirked smugly, licking his lips. “And you,” he kissed your lips before pulling away briefly, “Are my favorite girl.” He brought his hands up your back and pulled you into him as he kissed you again. This time, longer and deeper, wanting to feel you as much as possible. “Teased me so much in class today.” You smiled into the kiss and he continued, “Almost wanted to take you over my knee right there in front of everyone.”

You moaned audibly and he brought his hand up to your neck, gripping you softly but firmly, giving you room to pull away if you didn’t approve. When you leaned further into his grip, he grinned and pulled you closer. You started grinding down on him, basking in the desperate groans and sighs you were coaxing out of him, the way his movements became more frantic as he bucked into you.

After debating with yourself in your head for a moment––struggling to think properly with his hands all over you, you got off of his lap and smiled at the small whines of protest he let out before reaching for his belt. You made eye contact with him and noticed how wide his eyes were, hopeful, hungry, but hesitant.

His hands reached for yours, “You don’t have to, darling. If anything I should be doing this first. God knows I’ve thought about it.”

You pouted, trying your best to ignore his words and focus on the task at hand. “But I want to,” you kissed his cheek, “I wanna make you feel good, professor.” He nodded, barely able to speak.

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?”

You nodded eagerly, licking your lips as he pulled himself out of his trousers. “More than anything. Wanna make up for earlier.” You got down on your knees, mouth practically salivating at the way his member stood tall against his abdomen, his tip leaking with precum.

Your hand wrapped around him just as a knock sounded at the door. Professor?

The both of your eyes widened, the both of you looking around for some sort of answer before he ushered you under the desk, tucking himself back in hastily, pulling his chair as much as he could and sitting at the edge, hiding his unbuttoned and unbuckled pants. Luckily for the both of you, the back of the desk reached the floor, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see you hiding underneath. “Uh––Come in!”

The person walked in and you recognized the sound of her voice, she often spoke up in the lectures. You couldn’t remember her name, though. You do, however, remember that she often spoke up only to get Tom’s attention. You’d heard her gush about him in the halls just outside his class in the hopes of him hearing her. You couldn’t blame her, but the thought still irked you. “I just wanted to give you my paper. I hope it’s not too late.”

Tom checked the time on his watch, 7:58. “Nope,” he laughed breathlessly, trying to compose himself, “Not too late at all, in fact just in time.”

She handed her paper to Tom and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying his best not to think about the fact that your hands were trailing up his thighs and that he could feel your warm breath hitting the exposed part of his member––he really hadn’t payed attention when he tucked himself back in.

Before he could send the girl who’s name you still hadn’t remembered off, she took a seat across from him and he swallowed nervously, a little frustrated since he was so close to getting his cock in his girl’s mouth.

It seemed that you somehow read his thoughts because as soon as the girl kept talking for another two minutes, you pulled his member out and stroked him, licking up his shaft and he tensed, taking every ounce of self control he had not to look down at you. His hand reached down and held your cheek gently, just wanting to feel you. You nuzzled into his palm and he had to bite his lip to suppress his smile, not wanting the student across from him to think his endearing expression was meant for her.

You honestly completely tuned out all the words she was saying, your sole focus pleasuring Tom. But you didn’t miss the flirty and falsely innocent tone in her voice. You couldn’t see her but she was no doubt batting her eyelashes at him as well.

When she made a comment about how good his shirt looked on him, you couldn’t help yourself, you sucked his tip into your mouth with no warning, making him groan unexpectedly. You paused, eyes wide and playful as your mouth stayed around him.

“Are you okay professor?”

He let out a strained smile, “Yes, Emma, Sorry––” So her name was Emma. “I just uh banged my knee on the desk.”

She hummed a small okay and went on.

He caught your eye, trying his best to keep his expression neutral, but boy was it hard. Especially when you were looking up at him like that, with his cock in your mouth. You licked around his tip and lowered your mouth around him and he had to force himself to focus on the girl who was still talking to him.

You were not playing fair but quite frankly you didn’t care. You were making him feel good and yourself too. Your hand was pumping him, your tongue swirling around him as quietly as you could, while your other hand found its place between your thighs.

In the middle of Emma’s speech, Tom’s eyes drifted down and widened, his breath getting caught in his throat when he noticed your other hand, moving between your legs. He stuttered out an excuse, unable to tear his eyes away from you for a moment, “Uh, Emma I’m so sorry––I just have so much work to do, but feel free to come back––” he paused to swallow when you sucked harder around him in reaction to his invitation. “Come back next week if you have any problems or anything else you’d like to discuss.”

She hesitantly but respectfully said goodbye and was on her way, closing the door behind her.

Tom’s hands immediately shot down to hold your head, his mouth dropped open as he watched you, approaching his high. “Shit, that’s it darling that’s it. So fucking good for me.”

“I’m gonna cum––” he warned. You simply hummed around him and sped up your movements, feeling yourself clench as he panted, his hips bucking slightly as he came into your mouth. You unfortunately weren’t able to cum but you were sure there’d be other chances. You popped off of him and swallowed his load before licking up his length teasingly slow. “Fuck, such a good girl.”

He pulled his chair out and brought you up to stand between his legs, tiling his head to look up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs absentmindedly. “Was someone a little jealous?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but failing to fix your annoyed facial expression. “Maybe.”

He tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, chuckling as he squeezed your cheek. “I’m yours.” He pecked your lips, before looking in your eyes, “And I’m most definitely repaying the favor when we get home. I mean––if you want to, of course.” Home.

You couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah––Okay.”

You’d never been to Tom’s house before so this felt like sort of a big deal to you, but you were going to try and calm your racing thoughts and heart. You and Tom agreed that you would go around the corner of the building for him to pick you up in his car, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you.

As soon as you were settled in, seatbelt on, Tom drove off and honestly the thrill of having to hide was exciting to the both of you. His hand was gripping your thigh throughout the whole drive and you could tell it was meant as a reminder that he was there for you, but also that he could barely contain himself.

Seeing Tom drive you, the flashing street lights illuminating his face, highlighting his jawline, his hand gripping your thigh––this was a sight you knew you wanted to see more. The intimacy of it all made you warm inside and the feeling of Tom’s fingertips digging into your skin only riled you up further.

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and he smiled at the feeling of your soft lips drifting over his skin. “Darling––” His words were cut off by a harsh moan when you trailed your lips down to his sweet spot, the noise almost too loud for the quiet, tense air in the car.

You teased, licked and bit at his skin, not afraid to leave marks. It was Friday now, if anyone saw them on Monday, they would just assume he’d had an eventful weekend. Honestly, the thought that no one would know that you were the one who left those marks excited you––it would be a secret between you and Tom, a thing for the two of you to share on your own.

Tom’s hands were now gripping the wheel and your thigh with force, trying to get his bearings. “You’re being very naughty today, love. Can’t say that I don’t love it though.”

You smiled sinfully into his neck, continuing your actions. Your hand slid over his thigh teasingly slow to rest on his bulge, fingers squeezing ever so softly and he practically jolted in his seat. “Christ––love unless you want me to crash this car I suggest you stop.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how much you’d riled him up. He almost whined at the loss of contact, subconsciously upset that you’d actually stopped. But as your hand reached back down to find its place between your thighs, his tone shifted.

“Don’t you dare touch what’s mine. That’s my job.”

You actually felt a shiver pass through your body and you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his dominant voice, excited for what was to come.

When you made it to his apartment, you barely had time to take in the scenery and take off your shoes and jackets before he dragged you to his room. But from what you saw, the decor was simple but elegant, much like Tom. His bedroom was the same, but again, you weren’t too focused on it.

He turned on the dim light in his room, wanting to be able to see you as he pleased you. He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your waist, looking deep into your eyes. “You still want this?”

You nodded absolutely certain. “Want you to take me.”

His pupils dilated and he pulled your shirt up and over your head, licking his lips, eyes widening when he noticed what you were wearing and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Christ, were you wearing this all day?”

You nodded again. “The underwear’s matching too. Wanna see?”

He got down on his knees, a teasing but desperate tone to his voice. “You’re a smart girl, don’t ask stupid questions.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down along with your socks, mouth dropping open as he got to see the full set.

You ran your hands up and down your body teasingly as he stood up. “Do you like it?”

He shook his head, smiling in disbelief, “Again with the silly questions, love.” He leaned in to kiss you, pulling away to take off his clothes. “You look like a goddess, darling.” You could feel your skin heating up from his words and his stare. He pulled you in for another kiss before bringing you onto the bed.

You lied down in the middle and spread your legs, waiting for him eagerly as he lied down between them. “Can’t fucking wait to taste you, love.”

He pulled your panties over to the side and licked into you, his tongue softly swiping through your folds. His eyes rolled back as he moaned into you, “Taste just as perfect as you look.” He slid his hands around your thighs and pulled you in closer, smiling at the small squeak you let out.

His tongue was exploring you, finding all the spots and all the tricks that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. He was keeping this all to memory, memorizing the way you feel, the way you look. When your breaths quickened and your fingers tugged at his curls, he locked his arm around your stomach, slid one, then two fingers inside of you and sped up his movements, moving his head from side to side as he hummed onto your clit.

Your body tensed and you held onto him for dear life as the knot in your stomach gave out, the pleasure spreading all throughout your body. Your mouth dropped open in ecstasy, your neck craning back and Tom couldn’t look away from you. You looked like a painting and he wanted to commit it to memory.

He let go of you and kissed his way up your body, soothing you with his lips. Your legs were still twitching slightly, your stomach clenching and unclenching when his kisses reached your cheek. “Look so pretty when you come for me.” He kissed along your jaw, “Can’t believe you’ve deprived me of such a beautiful sight for so long.” He kissed your lips and tugged your bottom one between his teeth, before looking at you, eyes wide, “You gonna give me the privilege of seeing it again?”

You smiled, your hands coming up to hold his cheeks. “You can see it whenever you want. As long as you’re the one making it happen.” You pulled him to you and kissed him, the both of you moaning into the small gaps between your mouths.

He started to pull away but you whined and pulled him back making him smile. “I’ve gotta get a condom, love.”

He tried to get up again but you pulled him back down, “M’on the pill Tommy.” You looked up at him, pouting and he almost gasped––the effect you had on him was insane. “Just fuck me please.”

He didn’t need anymore convincing, grabbing a hold of his cock and swiping it through your folds, groaning out loud at how good your wetness felt. You bucked your hips and realizing you were getting desperate, he finally slid into you and all your senses immediately tuned into him.

Just like your dream––All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure.

His eyes were watching your face, taking you in as he thrusted into you, making sure you were enjoying everything he was giving you. You felt absolutely amazing and so did he. “So perfect for me, darling. That’s it.” He bit his lip and sped up, making your jaw drop as you stared into his eyes, completely open and vulnerable to him. His touch was tantalizing, even better than your fantasies which only meant you’d become more addicted to him and what he could do to you.

He grunted, angling his hips when he found your spot, hitting it over and over, bringing his hand down to play with your clit. “Told you I wanted to see you cum again, pretty girl. So you’re gonna cum then I’m gonna fill you up. That sound okay?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes watching his every move as your hands gripped his arms, your thighs burning invitingly as they stretched around him with every thrust. Then you uttered that one word that always had him almost inappropriately weak for you. “Want to be full of you, professor.”

His jaw slacked and he paused for a slight moment before picking up his pace, faster than before, hips chasing after both your highs, fingers still rubbing you just the way he learned, just the way you liked. “Fuck-–”

A few more thrusts and flicks of his wrist and you were tensing under him, your pussy clenching around him as he let out broken curses and moans, losing his rhythm and releasing into you with a groan.

He rested some of his weight on you for a moment, the both of you smiling and laughing breathlessly as you took in the moment. Your hands came up to play with his curls and he sighed, leaning into your touch. He lowered his head into the crook of your neck and left a few soft kisses, coaxing some sighs from you as well.

After a moment, he rolled over and took you with him, making you nuzzle further into him, his arm wrapped around you, your leg slung over his waist. His hand was rubbing up to your ass and down to your thigh, lulling you to sleep while simultaneously riling you up again.

He kissed your forehead and you kissed his chest in response. “That was fucking amazing, love.”

You nodded and hummed in agreement, “Even better than my dreams.”

He pulled back to look at you, you could hear his heartbeat quicken and you tried to hide your face in his chest. “You had dreams about this too?”

That made you lift your head up to look at him. You could see in his eyes that he wasn’t joking but you were still slightly shocked. “Too?”

He smiled, licking his lips, “Well maybe we should discuss them, and try them out for ourselves.” His hand found its way between your legs again, making you moan but that didn’t stop you from responding.

You nodded, “For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” He grinned, “See, I knew I taught you well.” He leaned in to kiss you deeply, “My girl’s the perfect student.”

You spent hours exploring each other's bodies as you reenacted your dreams, both exceeding each other's expectations every time. By the time you fell asleep in each other's arms, it was late at night and you were sweaty, and tired, but overwhelmingly pleased.

❊❊❊❊

The next Friday, it was halloween. Liz had somehow convinced you to go to a halloween party with her. On top of that it was a frat party. And even worse, you dressed up as a school girl because it was all last minute and you didn’t have any time to get a costume.

“Oh come on Y/N, you look hot!”

You turned in the full length mirror to look at your ass that was almost visible in this mini skirt. “You think so?”

“Duh.”

And that’s all the convincing you needed to go out. You needed a little college fun. You hadn’t been to a party in who knows how long because you were always focusing on your work. You deserved this. Also Liz said it was a celebration of your “lay”, yes, she said lay.

“I’m just saying you cannot let me get with him again.”

“Liz it’s literally his frat house that we’re going to and we both know you have little to no self control.”

“Well damn. You couldn’t have sugar coated it?”

“What, you want me to throw a packet of splenda on you?” You joked.

She shoved you, “Dude shut up,” she laughed.

You looked down at your bare thighs that were only partly covered by your thigh high socks and rubbed your arms, regretting not bringing a jacket when Liz spoke up again. “Oh shit, is that Professor Holland?”

Your eyes shot up and made direct eye contact with him. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweats but he still looked great as usual. His eyes trailed down your body and soon your shivers were no longer because of the cold.

“I’ll just wait here.” Liz said suggestively and you walked over to Tom.

“H–Hi.”

He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, he didn’t know who was around. “Well hello to you too.” He looked into your eyes, a smirk on his face. You rubbed your arms quickly for warmth, and Tom had to control himself to not look at your chest, even though he could see your nipples hardening from the weather through your shirt. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and take you home.

“Any plans?” You asked.

“No, I'm just about to go home. I’m uh guessing you have somewhere to be?” His eyes traced your figure again.

“Yeah um me and Liz are going to a frat party.” You pointed back to your friend and gave him a small smile and shrug. “She convinced me.”

He wanted to kiss you so bad but he had to restrain himself.

“Be safe tonight, yeah?” His eyes were comforting, as they always were, but this felt almost more personal? Almost like he didn’t want you to go. And honestly, after seeing him, you almost didn’t want to either. You never defined your relationship with him, so honestly right now he was like a friend with benefits––professor with benefits, if you will.

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “O––Okay. I will. You be safe too!”

His eyes followed you as you walked off, your friend pulling you along, obviously whispering to you, probably about him. You looked so fucking good and everyone else was going to see that too. It’s not like he owned you or anything, but part of him really wished he could claim you, openly care for you and be affectionate. His thoughts were a mix of wholesome and raunchy and he had no idea how to act.

He almost felt wrong but he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his mind, the way you looked up at him sheepishly, the innocent look in your eyes while you were wearing that mini skirt. His cock was bulging in his boxers ever since he first laid eyes on you. When he got home, he made his way to his bed, undressing almost immediately. Lying down in the middle of the bed, just where you were days before brought a flood of memories into his mind, only making his member throb even more. He tugged at his cock, spitting in his hand to make it slick.

Images of you were flashing in his mind as he sped up his movements, desperate for a release.

He was dying to get a taste of you again. The memory of the way you felt under his fingertips, the way your muscles clenched when he hit the right spots. The way you tasted when you were dripping onto his tongue. The way you looked at him when you came, your lips parted to release broken moans and whimpers. The way your fingers gripped his curls as your body tensed. It was all enough to make him spill over his hand, his breaths coming out in quick pants as his head dropped back onto the pillow.

“Fuck.” He really had it bad for you.

❊❊❊❊

Tom had texted you during class on Tuesday to meet him in his office when you were done with classes for the day. When you stepped into the room, he locked the door immediately, bringing you over to his desk, his lips chasing yours. Screw worrying about people hearing you, he wanted you. Now.

“God, just seeing you in that tight little costume––you have no idea how badly I wanted to ravish you. The thought of all those dumb frat boys seeing you in all your glory like that––I was absolutely beside myself.” So that’s what this was about. His hand came up to hold your cheek, his eyes fiercely staring into yours and you nuzzled into his touch, your hand holding his wrist softly and his eyes softened at the sight of you.

“I’m gonna absolutely devour you.” You gasped and he smiled, pulling your pants along with panties down. He sat you down on his desk and got down on his knees, licking his lips. “As soon as I got a taste of you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go without it ever again.” He kissed your thigh, looking up at you. “You gonna let me have a taste again? Wanna make you feel good, lovie.”

You nodded, swallowing roughly, “Y––Yeah. Yes please.”

He chuckled breathlessly, “Such a polite little thing you are.” He kissed his way from your inner thigh to your center before licking a torturously slow stripe from your hole to your clit. You let out a sigh and gripped the desk, your fingertips becoming lighter at how hard you were already holding it.

His hands held your thighs open, putting them over his shoulders, holding you in place. His tongue was languidly licking you up and down, savoring your taste and your moans, coaxing them out of you one by one, nonstop. He looked up at you and your breath got caught in your throat, the look in his eyes fierce, almost as if he could see your bare soul and he clearly liked what he saw. He brought his lips to close around your heat after every other swipe of his tongue, passionately kissing your heat.

“So fucking good, angel. Always the best for me.”

You nodded, licking your lips, one of your hands coming to grab at his curls, making him growl into you. “Only for you, Tommy.”

He didn’t stop his tongue or his lips until you came, your back arching, fingers frantically grabbing for whatever you could hold, lip trapped between your teeth to muffle the moans that so desperately wanted to escape into the quiet air of the room. He kept going until you had to pull his head away from you, overwhelmed by all the pleasure and scared that you would scream and alert everyone in the building about what you were up to.

His hands were caressing your thighs, eyes looking at you in awe, almost too innocently for what you’d just done. He stood up between your legs and leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips.

He pulled away to look at you, hands holding your hips as your legs wrapped around his waist. You brought your arms up to link around his neck, looking up at him appreciatively and absolutely spent. “So do you think I should wear school girl outfits more often?”

He laughed, his hands holding you tighter, “If you do, my head is never leaving between your thighs.”

You smiled cheekily, batting your lashes at him. “Promise?”

He’d never gotten down on his knees quicker in his life. Let’s just say it took you another hour before you left his office.

❊❊❊❊

Over the past few weeks it had become a routine for you to go over to Tom’s office to seemingly “work on your assignments and review,” so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to show up unannounced Friday afternoon. Without meaning to, though, it seemed you showed up a little too early, and ended up overhearing part of Tom and Harrison’s conversation.

“I can tell Y/N means a lot to you, mate. Don’t lie.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you skidded just in front of the door, about to turn the corner inside. You backed up and stayed pressed to the wall. Luckily no one really stopped by this side of the building at this time on a Friday, so no one would find you snooping around in the middle of the hallway.

“No I just––”

No. He said no––Okay you weren’t going to freak out. This always happens in the movies, and then the main character runs away before hearing the most important part and they overreact. So you decided to just...wait it out.

So you waited and waited. And the more the silence overwhelmed you, the louder it got. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes because you really thought your feelings were mutual. But just as you inched your foot backwards to walk away, he spoke up again, his voice quiet.

“She means everything to me, man. I––It scares me, honestly. I just don’t want to mess it up.”

This time the tears fully formed in your eyes, but for the absolute opposite reason. You smiled and wiped at your eyes, not even bothering to hide anymore as you turned the corner, surprising Tom, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. Harrison turned around to see you and his gaze filled with concern as well.

“Tom––” your voice was quiet but there was a smile on your face.

“Darling––” He rushed over to you and grabbed your hands, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs to catch the few tears that escaped. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

Your hands came up to hold his wrists as you looked into his eyes, “I heard you talking.”

His face dropped in realization and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Harrison cleared his throat and subtly made his way out, “You guys have some things to discuss.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you both smiled at each other appreciatively before he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Tom took your hands and brought you over to the couch. “I hope I didn’t scare you off, love.”

You shook your head immediately, even climbing in his lap to prove him wrong and he smiled gratefully. “No! It’s just that we never really talked, you know, about us.” He nodded and you took that as a sign to continue, enjoying the way his hands subconsciously slipped under your shirt to rub at your skin soothingly. “I like you Tom, obviously. But I like you a lot.” You linked your hands behind his neck. “I think I might be falling for you.”

His eyes started tearing up as well, as he smiled, “Yeah well, I think I’ve already fallen for you, darling.”

You looked into his eyes and your smile brightened, “Okay maybe I lied––I’ve definitely already fallen for you as well.”

You both laughed lovingly, pulling each other in for a sweet kiss.“Look,” Tom started, licking his lips. “I don’t know what this means for our future, but all I know is I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon.”

You kissed his lips softly, “Well I don’t plan on leaving any time soon either.”

“Good.” He looked at you and you felt as though your soul was out and open for him to hold and love. “Cause you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N and I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You could feel your eyes tearing up again. This felt good. This felt like home.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #professor!tom holland #professor!tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #for a sec tho lol #professor!tom holland imagine #professor!tom holland fic #professor!tom holland oneshot #professor!tom holland smut #professor!tom holland angst #professor!tom holland fluff

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peachycoreroo · 3 years

Text

angel | kuroo tetsurou

summary: the only thing that came to mind when you heard the word angel, was your crushes ex girlfriend. so what do you do when suddenly you’re the angel or how a book can bring two people together

pairing: college!kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

genre: smut, a lotta plot tho, basically pwp

word count: 7.9k

warnings: dom!kuroo, fingering, oral fem! receiving, praise, both being extremly needy, it’s not really kinky, slight breeding kink tho, a few spanks, vaginal penetration

authors note: pls don’t even ask about the book thing, this entire thing is based of one of my dreams and i had no idea why the book appeared, but it did and i didn’t wanna leave it out soooo, ye<3 here’s a link to my masterlist

you sighed, as you continued typing your essay. maybe coming to the coffee shop was not the best idea you had, since it was friday and apparently every college student on campus decided it was coffee time after their lecture, but you didn’t expect it to be so overflown with people.

sitting at the far back, you realized that you were not going to get any work done with how loud everyone around you was being, so you just sat back and observed the people around you, while drinking the cheap coffee you ordered earlier. observing and analyzing the behavior of those around you always came natural to you. some guy watching his girlfriend as she was deciding what to order, even though she was taking way too long, with love. a friend group of a few pretty girls walking past a table full of sexist pigs who thought the only way to get their attention was by whistling after them as if they were dogs. and your crush looking at you.

wait.

huh?

quickly averting your eyes back to your laptop, you could feel your heart rate pick up to an unnatural speed. pretending to suddenly be terribly busy with drinking coffee, a million thoughts ran through your head. you were quite positive that you’ve seen his girlfriend sitting right next to him, so why was he staring so intensely at you?

it’s not as if you never talked. kuroo tetsurou was easily the most interesting person you have ever had the pleasure of having intellectual conversations with. you were taking some business classes in your third semester, since you thought they would be of value for your future. that’s where you met him. kuroo sat next to you since the first day of the lecture but you were way too intimidated by his attractiveness to start the first real conversation beyond greetings, so when the opportunity had arisen, you snatched it right away.

after one of the lectures, he left his phone on the desk and since he was already gone, you took it and hurried after him. just as he was leaving through the huge main doors of your university, you caught up to him and grabbed his arm. embarrassingly, not being the most athletic made you look like a creep as kuroo directed his confused stare at your form, hunched over, breathing hard but still latching onto his arm.

“uh, hi? y/n, right?”, the tall boys’ confusion lightly seeped into his questioning tone as his eyes moved between you and the hand you used to hold him back from walking further.

taking one last deep breath, you forced yourself to stand up right and look into his eyes, but oh, what mistake that was. funnily enough, you never actually looked directly into his eyes, so you didn’t expect to suddenly have to divert all your focus on trying to keep the gasp, you wanted to let out, in your throat. in your memories, from the milliseconds you had the courage to look into his eyes when he greeted you, his eyes were brown but all at once you were confronted with the most beautiful hazel eyes you have ever seen.

as a consequence of having to put all your mental capacity on not gasping out loud or even worse, admitting how attractive he was, the words that came out of your mouth only furthered your embarrassment.

“you. phone. lecture. forgot”, you stumbled over your words as if that were your first attempt at communicating.

feeling your already hot face burn brighter as tetsurous confusion further solidified on his handsome face, you only hoped he thought the running was responsible for you looking like a sweaty mess.

you forced yourself to let out a short laugh as you broke eye contact to gain back your composure. “sorry, I didn’t expect the running to get to me that bad. maybe lev is right, I should try some aerobics with him”, starting to mumble towards the end, you shook your head. “anyway, you forgot your phone on the table in our lecture just now. i didn’t want to hold onto it till thursday and didn’t know where else to find you, so i ran after you. m’ sorry if I kinda freaked you out”, you quickly added while holding out his phone to him.

as you never really talked to the tall man before, your head snapped up to look at him when you heard his deep chuckle. was there something that’s not attractive about this man?

taking the phone from your hands, you were finally able to experience the first full sentence kuroo tetsurou ever directed at you. “well, thanks. i definitely didn’t wanna be without a phone two whole days, so i appreciate you running after me with such determination”, he remarked, as he observed how out of breath you still were, grinning.

“oh god, you know, never doing anything nice for you ever again sounds good right about now”, you groaned, lifting a hand in front of your face to stop him from studying your slightly damp face.

nothing on this green-blue-brown floating rock in space that is also known as the earth, could have prepared you for what you were witnessing next. with your mouth slightly ajar, you looked at tetsurou as he leaned over, clutching his stomach, while letting out the funniest laugh you have ever heard in your life.

in your mind, you saw a quick flash of a scene from ‘the lion king’, in which one of the hyenas was laughing exactly like that. you briefly wondered whether kuroo was influenced by that scene as a kid before you couldn’t keep your laugh in anymore after the initial shock subdued.

“my apologies, the situation was just way too perfect for me to not tease you. i’d be honored if you’d grace me with your kindness again, my highness”, he slightly bowed while, once again, flashing you that sly smirk that made you wanna punch and make out with him at the same time.

you tried to match his energy as best as you could with your head jumbled from the proximity to the man you have been sitting next to every tuesday and thursday from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m., but looking back at the interaction, you couldn’t wrap your head around tetsurou wanting to continue talking to you after that conversation.

“i’ll consider it, peasant.”

after that, you and your smart seatmate talked a lot more. you found out that he was majoring in sports management and minoring in chemistry even though it was so different from management, just because he liked it. lev, your best friend at college since the first day when he didn’t see you from his 6’5” point of view and knocked you over as you were looking at the menu in the very coffee shop you were currently sitting in, turned out to be one of kuroo’s old friends from high school. which let you to find out the most unfortunate information about kuroo tetsurou thus far.

as you were walking to your next lecture with the dark-haired man, lev joined in with a tall, blonde, and gorgeous woman by his side. you immediately recognized alisa, lev’s sister. even though the silver-haired boy was ginormous, he couldn’t hold his liquor very well, which resulted in you having to drag the giraffe of a human home after a party quite a few times. there, you met alisa.

wanting to go in for a hug with the beautiful blonde, you froze at once as you tried to process what you were seeing. tetsurou had an arm wrapped around her petite waist, the other one placed on her sharp jaw, as he softly pecked her lips.

lev excitedly started telling you about a new side job he got as a model and while you supported him with your whole heart and were genuinely proud of him for landing that job, you could only zero in on the sight in front of you. your eyes hyper focused on the way his large hands were gently grabbing her waist, your ears on the soft ‘how was your day?’ and flirty ‘better, now that you’re here’ exchanged.

putting on your best poker face and directing your attention to the excited titan beside you, your own reaction startled you. even more surprising was who you were jealous of. you did have a small crush on alisa at the start, who wouldn’t? she’s tall, beautiful, fun, loving, caring, alas she was way too similar to lev to develop a full-on crush on her. then, it dawned on you, that the one you were jealous of, was not tetsurou, but in fact, alisa.

of course, you thought your seatmate was attractive from the first moment you saw him, but how you managed to develop a crush on him without even realizing it, was beyond you. ugly, jealous thoughts made their way into your head about one of the most loveable people you met. those disgusting thoughts slithered their hands around your throat, trying to suffocate you and so you buried that small crush in the back of your mind.

after that encounter you kept your distance to the handsome male. it was better for you, your sanity and everyone involved. in no way were you ever going to go between a loving relationship because of your own selfish feelings.

for crying out loud, you didn’t even know kuroo that well while alisa was like a sister to you. however, you weren’t able to tune out the insecure voices in your head. of course, he liked tall, model-like women who resembled angels not only physically but also with their personality. who were you to compare yourself to her? not even you yourself liked who you were, so why would one of the most attractive guys you ever saw?

you deserved someone good, but alisa deserved the world, so you just wished that tetsurou was the best for her.

and while kuroo tetsurou was a lot of things, he wasn’t ignorant, so when you decided to sit down in another seat in the lecture a few times or made up some excuses as to why he couldn’t walk with you to your next seminar, he knew something was wrong.

which brings you back to right now, with you staring at your laptop, hoping that the boy you’ve been trying to avoid wouldn’t come over to check on you. alas, your luck was apparently all spent, because you could see a tall, dark figure drop themselves on the bench in front of you.

“y/n.”

at the low tone of his voice calling your name, you lifted your gaze from your laptop to look at the boy you were trying to stay clear of.

“hmm? oh, hey tetsurou. didn’t see you there.” bullshit, he thought.

“yeah, ’m here with alisa. just a quick break before she has her next lecture.” while saying that, kuroo focused on your expression, trying to gauge your emotions and maybe get a hint on why you were actively keeping him at arm’s length.

after taking a swift look in the direction the happy couple was sitting just a few minutes ago, you nodded and kept your eyes on your coffee.

“that’s nice, you should probably go back now though. don’t want you to waste precious date time”, you said cheerfully, but weren’t able to keep out the slightly bitter tone out of your voice. that’s exactly why you were trying to stay away from him. the sight of the merry couple only fueled your toxic thoughts about two people you cherished and even though you wished for them to be happy together, the insecurities deep inside you wouldn’t let you.

seeing the slight change in your voice and expression, kuroo cocked his head to the side. did he say the wrong thing?

“she’s already leaving, so i decided to catch up with you for a bit.”

fantastic.

“well,” you remarked while closing your laptop and starting to pack your things, “I also need to get going, was nice seeing you though.”

“i’ll walk you”, was in fact not what you wanted to hear. but the universe hated you for some reason. you looked back at him and waved your hand dismissingly, trying to speedily think of a reason why he couldn’t accompany you: “uh, you see, i, uh... i’m visiting my parents this weekend, so i’ll just take the train. ’m not going back to the dorms.”

even if kuroo would have been stupid and oblivious, which he was not, your hurried attempt at getting rid of him just confirmed all his suspicions. but the ex-captain wasn’t going to let you run away from him so easily.

“no problem, i’ll walk you to the train station. the field i practice volleyball in with lev and a few others is nearby. ‘was gonna head there anyway, let’s go.” this time, he didn’t let you enough time to object, so you were stuck grabbing your things and following him, regardless of what you wanted.

to your surprise, kuroo didn’t say a thing on the way to the train station. you expected him to force you into a whole debate about whether pluto was a planet or not, but he just stayed silent. was that a bit of your luck shining through, or was he angry?

not wanting to push your luck any longer, you stayed silent as well, as you waited for your train at the designated platform. guess you had to make a surprise visit to your hometown because of your little lie, but maybe that was exactly what you needed. some time away to clear your head.

but just as you got excited for the spontaneous trip, kuroo finally dropped what has been on his mind the whole walk or rather, the whole three weeks you’ve been running away from him as if he was on fire and you couldn’t wait to get away from him as far as possible.

“y/n. why are you avoiding me?”, he questioned, looking at the rails ahead, instead of you.

“w-what? i’m not, why would you think that?”, you quickly sputtered out, hardly able to convince yourself of your own lies.

tetsurou gave you a look of complete skepticism, quickly shutting down your protests. “don’t play dumb with me, ’m not stupid. i know you’re not sitting down way further in the back or running out of the lecture on accident. you’re doing this on purpose. even just a moment ago you didn’t want me to escort you. tell me why.”

luckily, the train arrived just on time, so you quickly hoped on with a fleeting 'see you next week' and hoped he would just assume you didn’t quite catch what he said because of the train.

he didn’t though. he knew that you heard him.

the short spontaneous weekend trip turned into you staying for almost two whole weeks because of a cold, so your mom wouldn’t let you return without someone taking care of you, not knowing you had some big news waiting for you once you got back.

“we broke up.”

wou were currently in the library after returning to campus, trying to catch up on some lectures you missed, when alisa entered. together, you were walking around the english literature section, catching up when she dropped the bomb.

“wait, what? how? when? why? huh? what did he do?”, you asked dumbfounded, feeling bad about your two friends, who were so clearly in love, breaking up. but even more than that, you could feel disgust creep up your spine because deep down you knew you were sickly happy about the fact that kuroo was now single. what a shit fucking friend you were.

“relax”, alisa chuckled. “he didn’t do anything, we just kinda came to the agreement that we don’t love each other the same anymore. i felt like he was always distracted the last weeks we were together, always deep in thought, and i decided to concentrate on my graduation and career as a model. it was a great college relationship and i still care for him, we just… we broke up about a week ago.”

“well, as long as you’re both happy with the decision”, you sighed while picking ‘pride and prejudice’ by jane austen from a bookshelf, not feeling like such a piece of shit for being lowkey happy about it anymore, but you still knew you two would never work. even if the breakup was mutually decided, tetsurou was still her ex.

hearing alisa giggle, you turned your gaze from the book in your hand and wondered: “huh? why are you laughing?” the tall blonde only grinned and continued her way down the aisle. completely confused, you followed her with the book still in hand.

“what the fuck? kinda acting sus not gonna lie.”

“wow, I thought you had better jokes than that y/n”, she teased, sitting down at a nearby table.

breathing out some air out of your nose in mock anger, you sat down beside her, tipping your non-existent fedora. “sorry i’m not up to your comedy standards, m’lady.”

alisa laughed loudly before noticing the book you were still holding, her laughter turning into a knowing grin. once again, you shot her a confused look: “what is it with you today? your mood swings are confusing the shit outta me.”

“you know, that’s like one of tetsu’s favorite books.”

“what? 'pride and prejudice'?”, you inquired, puzzled. why was she telling you this? “are you like, having some post-breakup nostalgia or?”

she laughed once again, waving her manicured hand dismissingly and shaking her head: “it just kinda popped into my head. i never read it, but he once wanted to read it to me. it did not end well; i couldn’t take it seriously and had to laugh the whole time. he just gave up and sulked for the rest of the evening.”

“yep, definitely pbn”. the girl shoved your shoulder slightly while snickering before taking out her laptop and working on something, leaving you alone with your conflicted thoughts.

as fate would have it, you didn’t really talk to kuroo for the last two weeks of lectures. finals were catching up and you had a lot of exams, leaving you with no time to catch up with the tall boy. plus, you were still trying to avoid him. you weren’t about to give into temptation and try your luck with alisa’s ex, which was much easier if said temptation didn’t walk around looking fine directly in front of you.

but with the weekend starting, you agreed to go to a party with the haiba siblings to treat yourself to a break from typing essay after essay. it was obvious that kuroo would also be there and this time, you wouldn’t be able to avoid him. the running had finally caught up to you.

before the party, you decided to go to the library to work on one of your essays, but with how much work there was left, you simply forgot the time. at 10 p.m., your phone rang.

“hello?”

“girl? why aren’t you here yet? and why aren’t you answering our messages? we texted you like a million times”, levs’ questioning voice echoed through the speaker.

quickly checking the time and number of messages you got, you gasped: “oh god, so sorry! i was at the library working on my shitty marketing essay! ’m gonna be right there!”

ending the phone call, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to your dorms. stripping on the way to the bathroom in your one room apartment, you hopped into the shower, feeling as if you were trying to break the world record for the fastest shower known to men.

as you were stepping out of the shower a few minutes later, someone knocked at your door, startling you. did the haiba siblings come to pick you up? with a hasty ‘’m coming’, you hurried to the door in only a towel.

“hey, I just got out of the shower, I just need…” faltering in your sentence, you gripped your towel tighter, trying not to freak out. because there were no alisa and lev in sight. just kuroo tetsurou. while you were standing there. with only a towel on. fuck. “that’s uh… you’re not alisa and lev.”

“er… n-no, no i’m not”, kuroo stuttered out, at least having the decency to avert his eyes to the ceiling, realizing what you had or rather had not on after checking you out. collecting your composure, you shot him a tight-lipped smile and stepped aside to let him in.

“come in, I just need to get dressed and do my makeup. you can wait inside.”

walking past you, the dark-haired man pretended to scratch his head to hide his red ears and quickly surveyed your room. “that’s…”, breaking off his sentence instantly when his voice cracked, he cleared his throat before trying again. “nice room.”

while kuroo tried not to have a mental breakdown and remember what he came here for, you picked up your disregarded clothes from earlier of the floor, being mindful of not to flash the man, and made your way to your wardrobe, chucking in your dirty laundry and scanning your variety of clothes to pick out the most flattering outfit for the party. “uh, yeah, thanks. so, uh, what did you want? ee would’ve seen each other at the party later anyway.”

but there was no answer, making you frown. just as you wanted to turn around, calling his name in confusion, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist loosely, causing you to choke out his name.

kuroo leaned his head down towards your neck, slowly inhaling the scent of your strawberry bodywash before sighing contently. his soft, plump lips slowly trailed up to your ear, creating goosebumps on their way, before lowly murmuring: “you smell delicious. i could eat you up.”

you could feel yourself shiver at the low timbre of his voice and the indication of his words, as your heart rate picked up to the point you had the feeling as though you were going to die right then and there. how did his demeanor change so suddenly? it seemed as if you were in a room with a completely different person.

the ex-captain smugly grinned as he felt your breath quicken and chest heave without him even doing much, tightening one arm around your waist, while his large hand on the other arm splayed itself on your stomach, slowly sliding down towards where you wanted him. “hm? can I do that baby?”

just as quickly as the thoughts of ‘stop, this is so wrong. what about alisa?’ appeared in your mind, they immediately disappeared with the sweet melody of kuroo calling you baby.

not being able to keep a little whine from slipping out at the pet name, you nodded, your cheeks unbearably hot. but that wasn’t enough for him. tetsurou wanted your verbal consent, even if his half-hard cock already slightly twitched at the small noise you let out without him even touching you properly, screaming at him to finally fuck you.

avoiding the area, you wanted him to touch the most, his hand grabbed your thigh, causing you to squeeze your legs together in search of relief. he tsked at your lack of words and lightly spanked your thigh before tightening his grip around the fat, earning him a surprised squeak from you. “no, use your big girl words baby. i want to hear it.”

the instant tetsurou startled you with the spank, you hurriedly grabbed onto his forearms, lightly digging your nails into the muscles. already, everything was getting too much. his smooth voice seducing you, his dominant touch jumbling up your brain, his urgent need to hear your consent, his pleasant scent of a mix of his cologne, mint and husk surrounding you. him, him, him. you wanted more. you needed more. the slick between your legs grew embarrassingly fast, smearing on the inside of your thighs, showing off kuroo’s effect on you evidently.

“please… please touch me tetsu', I need it”, you whimpered out impatiently, making him close his eyes to stop himself from cumming already, your needy voice going straight to his dick standing at full attention. and even though the menace in him wanted to tease you and hear you beg more; he knew that he didn’t have the willpower to deny himself of having you any longer.

as you felt the tall male finally place his hand underneath your towel and cup your pussy, your head rolled back onto his shoulder, giving him full access to your neck. while dragging his middle and index finger through your folds leisurely, his lips and tongue placed hungry kisses on your neck.

“fuck, angel, you’re soaking wet. Is that all because of me, hmm?”, he lowly murmured against your neck, while his fingers simultaneously slowly circled your clit. you couldn’t stop your eyes from lolling to the back of your head or the small whimper that left you, even though the ‘angel’ left a bitter taste in your mouth. as much as the pet name made your stomach all tingly, you always compared alisa to an angel, so it didn’t quite sit well to be called that by her own ex.

but as you felt his middle finger enter you, all thoughts flew out of your head. The only thing on your mind were the raspy praises against your neck and his finger moving at a torturous pace inside you.

“please tetsu', more, I need more”, you complained whiny, because as much as it was all overwhelming, it also wasn’t enough. kuroo could only grin at your eagerness, but couldn’t blame you, since his own patience was speedily wearing thin.

with an uttered ‘everything for you angel’, he added his index finger into the mix, curling the two digits and, not wasting a moment, pumping them into you at a rapid pace, eliciting a quiet moan out of you. the ex-captain noted that you weren’t much of a moaner and mentally made it a challenge to have you crying for him by the end of the night. so, without much warning, his long, thick fingers started hammering against your g-spot while his thumb circled your clit at the same time, making you squeeze your eyes shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream, your hands searching for stability on the closet in front of you.

“c’mon, y/n, baby, i know you want it, fucking give it to me. ‘been fantasizing about this so long, just wanna make you feel good and fall apart for me. show me how much of a good girl you are.” his smooth voice flowed into your ear, seducing you to fully give into him. you felt as if you were being lured by satan himself and you were just a weak little human, not nearly strong enough to resist the whisper of the devil.

with a series of soft, high-pitched moans, you came on his fingers without any warning, your legs giving out at the intensity of it all. tetsurou only tightened his arm around your waist, picking you up without any trouble, making you clench around nothing at his display of effortless strength as he withdrew his fingers from your dripping hole. you thought you heard a small ‘good girl’, but you couldn’t tell for sure with the way you were still floating on cloud nine after he brought you to your orgasm that quickly.

panting and shivering at the goosebumps erupting, you lifted your gaze up at him as he placed you on your bed, only to find him already staring at you with low lids and completely black eyes, the beautiful hazel color of his eyes lost in all the lust and desire that took over his expression.

refusing to break eye-contact, kuroo lifted his with your essence-soaked fingers to his plush lips, wrapping them around the digits and sucking lewdly at them. once again, you felt yourself clench around nothing, rubbing your thighs against each other to get some relief, when you saw his eyes roll back as he tasted you.

the next thing you knew, your back hit the bed with the broad man lying between your spread legs, making you yelp. you could feel the atmosphere around tetsurou change once again. he was a lot more feral than he was before, as if his patience were running out.

his biceps wrapped around your plush thighs, holding you in place since the feeling of his breath against your cunt made your hips twitch up at their own accord, exposing the strong want you had for the man between your legs.

“’m gonna fucking wreck you angel”, he growled against your slit, before diving right in, licking and sucking messily at your clit, your pussy lips, everywhere he could reach. and as much as it shouldn’t feel pleasurable with him being as aggressive as he was, it felt fucking heavenly. you couldn’t help but arch your back, hands flying down to tangle in his messy rooster hair and tugging at the surprisingly soft strands, causing him to moan hoarsely against your sensitive pussy, the vibrations only egging you on. something about kuroo tetsurou losing his usual provocative, teasing demeanor as he ate you out felt so raw and animalistic, that it made your head spin and toes curl.

his large hand crept up your torso and he finally removed the towel that barely hid your breasts from him before palming one, drawing a content sigh out of you at the attention. but as much as he enjoyed listening to you whine and sigh because of the pleasure he was causing you, he wanted, no, needed to hear how much you wanted this, how much you wanted him.

“tell me how it feels angel, tell me how good it feels. ‘wanna hear your pretty voice, baby”, he huskily mumbled against your clit, making you arch your back at the delicious vibrations echoing through your core. but as much as you enjoyed hearing his dirty talk, you felt insecure about yours not turning him on.

preparing yourself mentally as good as you managed with the way he ate you out like a man starved, you allowed yourself a glance down only to see him expectantly observing you. the erotic sight only coaxed another high-pitched whine out of you, your head lolling back against your pillow.

at the next harsh suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your hips thrusted up against his skilled tongue and you finally gave in to your desire of wanting to tell him how good he was making you feel. only him.

“fuck, tetsu', d-don’t stop. feels so good, you feel so good, only you, please, please, please”, you needily moaned while grinding your hips up, simultaneously pushing his head deeper into your pussy and if kuroo had any self-control left, it was definitely gone now.

his toned biceps tightened around your thighs. his large hands squeezed your breast and hip harshly, leaving bruises for you to discover tomorrow. his able tongue messily switched between being shoved deep inside you and swirling your clit and you could feel the bed shake with how forceful he was humping the bed just from eating you out and hearing you talk like that. every little thing contributed to your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. you were fairly sure you even blacked out for a few seconds because the next time you focused your attention back on tetsurou, he was frantically unbuttoning his jeans, with his shirt already off, whipping out his cock.

you felt your eyes widen as well as your pussy clench, you couldn’t remember the last time you were this horny, but you also weren’t sure how the fuck you were supposed to fit a cock this big and girthy inside you. meanwhile kuroo took off his boxers and contently sighed as he finally started stroking himself, giving himself some relief but it wasn’t enough. not by a long shot.

zoning in on your face once again - sweaty, low lidded eyes, blown out pupils- the impatient boy leaned down and kissed you for the first time that evening. after everything that just transpired between you two, the kiss definitely felt the most intimate, but it was also what you were craving the most from tetsurou for months now.

you didn’t know how to possibly express all the emotions you were currently overwhelmed with, so you tried to translate it all through the kiss. kissing back harder, all teeth and tongue, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, pressing your thighs against his hips, hoping it was enough to convey what you wanted to say.

apparently, it was, because you could hear kuroo lowly growl against your lips before starting to dig his fingers into your hips and grind against you, finally letting you feel him where you needed him the most.

“n-not enough, tetsu'”, you eagerly whined, raising your hips, hoping it was enough to convince him to finally fuck you like you craved him to. but as thin as his patience was at the moment, kuroo tetsurou would not be kuroo tetsurou without his teasing antics.

he slyly grinned, pressing feather-light kisses down from your lips to your throat, making his way to your breasts, where he teasingly kitten-licked your nipples a few times, letting you think you were finally getting what you wanted before he raised his head and stared you down with his almost pitch-black eyes. “mmm, I know you can do better than that kitten”, he gruffly remarked while continuing to grind against you slowly, making you jerk and mewl every time you felt the head of his cock bump against your clit. “what do you want me to do, baby?”

how he still had it in him to tease and deny you, was beyond you, because you were on the edge of breaking down from how bad you wanted him. “’want you to fuck me, tetsu'”, you confidently said while gazing into his eyes, or at least, you tried to sound confident, but you were only able to whine and moan at this point.

kuroo closed his eyes and felt himself twitch against your pussy. you were going to be the death of him. sitting back up on his knees, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your entrance, making you spread your legs automatically wider at the sight.

with one sharp snap of his hips, you both groaned simultaneously, your groan high-pitched, his low and guttural, at the feeling you’ve both been craving for. “fuck, you’re on birth control, right?”, he asked, straining himself as to not just start pounding you into oblivion or cum right on the spot.

“yes, shit”, you breathlessly answered, putting your hands against his toned abdomen as to let him know to wait, which only made him clench his abs at the feeling of your soft hands on his exposed skin. “j-just give me a sec, need a moment”, you murmured avoiding eye contact, suddenly shy at the fact that you were just lying there with kuroo balls deep inside you.

sensing your mood shift, the tall male grinned his cheshire-grin at you and teasingly remarked: “why? am i too big for you, huh?”, hoping it’d make you laugh and relax a bit, soon realizing that the idea completely back-fired on him.

as you started to laugh at his arrogant remark, hitting his abs slightly and telling him to shut up, your core clenched in-sync with your laughter, making you freeze at the sudden loud, almost pornographic moan escaping tetsurou’s lips.

looking up at him, you finally realized how much he was holding back as to not hurt you or make you uncomfortable. the handsome boys’ wild hair was already sticking to the sweat forming on his forehead, his jaw clenched painfully, nostrils flaring, eyebrows furrowed, biceps bulging with how hard he was gripping the sheets beside your hips to restrain himself. the thought of him wanting to fuck you so bad but holding back for your pleasure and well-being, was enough to make you clench down on him again, rolling your hips up against his and declaring: “’m ready, tetsu'. please, f-fuck me”.

with your words and the grinding of your hips, kuroo really couldn’t hold back the little stutter his hips did against yours but fuck, was he embarrassed by it. he felt like a teenager, touching real boobs for the first time all over again, knowing he wouldn’t last long. not with how long he had fantasized about this and with how you reacted to his every move and touch, squeezing him so tight, he felt like he wouldn’t even be able to move.

“’m gonna break you”, and with those final words, his large, veiny hands gripped your hips in a bruising, vice grip, pulling out so only his tip was inside your messy, drooling cunt, before snapping right back in, making you choke on your breath at the impact.

as much as kuroo wanted to bust inside you right then and there, the strong urge to see you lose yourself on his cock while he ruined every other man for you was much more prominent. so, the ex-captain rutted in your pussy like his life depended on it, wanting your moans and mewls and whines to never stop. there was so much that was running through his head while being empty at the same time. the only thought was to bring you both to earth-shattering orgasms, but he also wanted to spit in your mouth, choke you, spank your thighs and ass till you wouldn’t be able to sit tomorrow. he wanted to come on your thighs, your tits, face, but he also wanted to breed you.

you two were definitely way too young for children but he couldn’t get the mental image of you, stuffed with his cum with it running down your legs out of his mind, only making it harder for him not to cum immediately.

but you weren’t doing better either. the pace that kuroo was fucking you at, had you seeing stars, riding you up higher on the bed with every thrust and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. you gripped the sheets, his hands, his forearms, your breasts, anything, to try to stabilize yourself as you approached your high embarrassingly fast without your clit even being touched.

just as the thought crossed your mind, you felt tetsus’ calloused fingertips, from years of playing volleyball, circle your clit, causing you to throw your head back with your lips open in a silent scream.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight kitten, so much better than i ever imagined. cum for me, wanna feel you cream on my fat cock, wanna see you lose your mind baby, give it to me”. at this point, he basically started rambling on about how hot and tight you were, how he wanted you to cum around his cock so badly, how you were gonna make him cum so hard, how you were making such a mess for him, what a good girl you were.

just as you felt yourself almost falling over the edge at the added stimulus to your clit and the filthy praises that were coming out of his mouth, you yanked the boy down by his arm, wrapping your arms around him firmly and kissing him so hard, you were sure you both would have bruised lips later.

with the new position and the intimacy of being pressed up against each other, one more thrust, and you were gone. cumming around his cock so hard, you couldn’t remember the last time someone made you cum that hard, if ever.

the pornographic moans of his name along with some ‘fuck’s and ‘so good’s, the jerking of your body against his and the vice-grip of your pussy on his dick as you came. it was all too much for the poor boy who didn’t even cum once the whole time, while you already had three orgasms under your belt. the last straw was your quiet, little ‘cum inside tetsu', want you to fill me up’ and so, a few short, sloppy thrusts later, kuroo buried his face in your neck, groaning loudly as he came inside, spurting hot, white cum against your abused walls.

the feeling of being filled up to the hilt by kuroo tetsurou was intoxicating. you whined, wrapping your legs around his hips, caging him in so he couldn’t pull out, not wanting the moment to end.

you both lied there, trying to catch your breath. as he pulled out after a few moments and got up to go grab a towel to clean you up, your hand caught his. “don’t go, where are you going?”, you whined needily, wanting to cuddle, to worn-out to care about the mess gushing out of your hole onto the bed sheets.

chuckling, the tall boy leaned down, kissing your forehead: “’m not going anywhere angel, I’m just gonna grab a towel and clean you up”. with that he retreated to the bathroom in search of a towel to use.

you, on the other hand, suddenly sobered up from your drunk-on-lust high at the pet name, making you realize what you just did. fuck, you just banged alisa’s ex-boyfriend. they weren’t even broken off for that long and you already betrayed her.

feeling like a bad friend and complete whore, you didn’t even register said ex-boyfriend was back, making you flinch at the sudden contact of your sensitive pussy with the wet, rough towel.

“relax baby, it’s just me”, he teasingly chuckled, while cleaning you up. when he didn’t hear you chuckle or bite back at his teasing, his expression morphed into a frown, lifting his gaze from your core to your face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, thanks.” but of course, you were lying. the panic that slowly settled in your chest was threatening to suffocate you. hell, you weren’t even able to look at him properly.

you felt kuroo grab your chin with his fingers gently, turning your head so you had to look at him. tetsurou was completely serious, he only hoped you weren’t regretting what just transpired between you two, as he repeated: “what’s. wrong?”, emphasizing those two words so you knew there was no point in lying.

feeling your eyes water up, you cursed yourself for showing weakness, since you weren’t one to cry often, especially in front of other people. “what are we going to tell alisa?”

that caught him off guard. “alisa?”, he repeated questioningly, as if he didn’t know what you meant. how could he not know? was he that stupid?

you sat up, rubbing at your eyes frantically with the rising anger inside your chest. “yeah, alisa. your ex. the one that’s like a sister to me. how am I supposed to look her in the eyes after what we just did?”

kuroo wasn’t stupid. you could vouch for that any day. you saw him in your lecture, and you had studied a lot with him, but right now, you were sure he was the dumbest person you ever knew, even beating lev. because even after explaining, he still only looked at you with a confused gaze, saying: “i don’t quite follow?”

groaning, you ran your hands through your hair in frustration, declaring: “you’re really smart, but you’re being so fucking dumb right now. how the fuck am I supposed to talk to one of my closest friends after I fucked her ex-boyfriend, who she loved by the way, not even that long after they broke up?”

finally, it clicked in kuroo’s brain. but the last thing you expected, was to hear him laugh. your head snapped up at the sound, glaring at him you almost growled: “what the fuck’s so funny, you fucking bedhead?”

“oh wow, throwing in the insults huh?”, he said between chuckles. “it’s funny because alisa was the one who encouraged me to come here tonight, though I don’t think she wanted us to outright fuck but, you know.”

what now?

“what do you mean she encouraged you to come here?”, you interrogated perplexed. suddenly he was acting all shy and sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with his big hand, avoiding your eyes.

“well… we’re still friends, so we were talking about our lectures a week ago and she suddenly mentioned how you also were a fan of 'pride and rejudice'. i just… got kinda excited at that, since alisa wasn’t really interested in things like that, so i started asking her about it. she then called me out on my crush on you, saying she already knows why i was so distracted the weeks leading up to our break-up, thinking about you.”

while listening, your anger slowly morphed into nervousness at kuroo openly admitting he also had a crush on you, but you wanted him to finish his story before addressing the elephant in the room.

“i apologized immediately, thinking she was angry at me, but you know her. she was so sweet, saying she would only be happier if it worked out between us. after, she tried to set us up to talk to each other, but you avoided me like the plague, so she told me to come here before the party since you were running late, to confront you and settle it once and for all but uh…”, he sheepishly smiled, “i kinda got distracted when you opened the door in only a towel, so… that didn’t go as planned.”

sitting with your mouth agape in a ‘o’, your brain tried to process all the information, not knowing what to say to his confession and explanation.

“soooo… she’s not gonna hate me and cancel our friendship?”, you carefully pressed, just to be sure. “no, I don’t think she will”, he chortled.

“oh.”

with that, the room was suddenly extremely silent, making you and kuroo even more nervous. clearing his throat, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “are you gonna give me an answer to my confession, or am I like, totally embarrassing myself right now?”

“uh, no, yeah”, you softly giggled at his obvious anxiousness. taking his face between your hands, you looked right into his hazel eyes in the dim lighting, before gently smiling at him.

“i like you too, nerd.”

bonus:

the next morning, you woke up to your phone aggressively vibrating on your nightstand beside your bed. you blindly reached out, picking up the call without even opening your eyes, clearly still half-asleep.

“hello?”, you groggily asked your caller, wondering who the fuck was calling you this early, when lev’s voice filled your ear. “y/n? hey, we we’re worried about you yesterday. why didn’t you show up? it was so much fun”, the big, over-grown baby whined.

looking down at the reason you weren’t able to attend the party sleeping soundly with his head on your chest, you smiled, carding your fingers softly through his raven-black hair.

“just… reasons”.

749 notes · View notes

lovely-angst · 3 years

Note

hi! how r u? I heard u were looking for ideas so I thought of this small fluff idea where its like a meet-cute on the bus or wherever but yk how sometimes u see someone & u really want them to talk to u or u wanna talk to them bc they just seem really interesting? bakugou kinda feels that way when he sees the reader but he's a little shy so when they get off the bus or just leave, he blurts out 'wait!' w/ no idea of what else to say & he's really flustered (idk u can go from there but yeah :))

a/n: a little short but sweet! <3 thanks for sending this in!!

genre: fluff

pairing: bakugou x reader

summary: bakugou hates riding the bus, but one day a cute stranger decides to fill up the empty seat beside him and he couldn’t help but want to get to know them

word count: 1.2k

04.05.2021

It was another one of those rare occasion days where Bakugou had to take the bus home. He disliked the thought of being surrounded by people and germs in a confined space.

But unfortunately for him, the weather was grimly and wet and Bakugou would have walked home if he had remembered to grab his umbrella on the way out. So here he was, arms crossed in annoyance as he sat in the packed bus, waiting for his stop.

People came and went with each stop and by the second stop, the seats were full except for the one beside him. It was probably due to the growing scowl on his lips.

He was too busy glancing out the window, waiting for his stop to notice you approach the empty seat beside him quietly. It wasn’t until your school bag had brushed against his leg that he turned to check out the scene.

And was he pleasantly surprised.

There you sat beside him, just a few inches away as he took in the beauty of this complete stranger. He wasn’t one for wanting to get to know people, but for some odd reason, you had caught his attention.

The more he observed you, the more he wondered why he was so interested in the first place? Was it the way that your gentle perfume that matched you so well and that it seemed to pull him in?

He was too busy figuring you out that he didn’t see you turn towards him. “Sorry about that,” you said with a gentle smile as you moved your bag away. Your voice snapping him out of his trance before he turned his head away and back to the view outside that seemed so dull compared to you.

But just as quick as his daydream came, his daydream left. After a short five minute ride to the next stop, you grabbed your bag and stood up. And just when Bakugou thought he couldn’t have found you so alluring, there was a little All Might key chain attached to your bag’s zipper.

Maybe he’d have to try taking the bus more often now. - “Huh? You’re taking the bus again? The weather’s amazing today though!” Kirishima exclaims as he watches his friend pack his bag before the two of them head over towards UA’s main gates. “Just didn’t feel like walking in this heat,” Bakugou grumbles, standing beside the bus stop.

“Whatever you say, see you tomorrow!” Bakugou watches as Kirishima skips away before glancing over at his phone to check the time.

Could the bus come any slower?

It wasn’t until he found himself sitting in the same spot as the day before was when he began questioning himself. All this for a girl you’ve only seen once? Get a grip! And his pep talk almost worked until he saw you getting on the bus, watching as you scanned for empty seats.

He could feel himself grow excited at the thought of you sitting beside him once more. But before you could get a chance to spot the empty seat beside him, some lame extra swiped that offer before you could as they plopped themselves down in the seat.

Bakugou wanted to yell as the seat beside him was suddenly taken over by someone other than you. He watched as you took a seat towards the front of the bus instead.

This is why he hated taking the bus. Maybe he had hit a streak of bad luck, he thought, staring out the window once more, watching as they neared your stop. And once they arrived at your stop, his red eyes glanced over towards you to see you getting up with your bag.

Only for your All Might key chain to fall off your bag without you noticing. Bakugou sat up straighter as he watched you walk away without a clue and before he could think about his options, he was already out in the aisle picking up the key chain.

Beeping his bus card, he jumped off the bus with a shout, “wait!” And when you turned around and noticed the key chain in his hand with your eyes widened. “Thank you so much!” you cried as you ran over, allowing him to place the key chain in your hands.

“You had to get off the bus early because of me. Let me at least pay you back for the rest of the fee,” you try, but Bakugou stops you.

“I usually walk home anyway, so it’s fine,” he says quietly, trying to repress the blush forming on his cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile at him. “Is that why I’ve never really seen you on the bus before?”

Bakugou raises a brow at you—you’ve noticed?

“You never ride the bus, so seeing you two days in a row is quite rare,” you say, looking to the side in deep thought, something Bakugou had found rather adorable. “I better get going. I have to catch my train! See you tomorrow maybe!” turning on your heel, you give him a wave before heading off towards the train station.

He hated riding the bus, but if it meant he could continue having these interactions with you, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Bakugou didn’t continue riding the bus daily, but he did try to ride once or twice a week. But those days that he did decide to ride the bus were so worth it every time your face lightened up when you saw him.

“Bakugou! You’re on the bus today!” you chirp happily as you quickly sat down beside him, leaning into him happily. “I feel like it’s been so long!”

It didn’t help that you were so close to him, closer than you normally would be. Feigning annoyance, Bakugou gently pushed your face away with a sigh, “It’s only been two days.

Your eyes glanced up at him with a quirky smile, “Yeah, but didn’t these two days feel like forever?”

And it made Bakugou lock up. You just seemed to know what to say to get him to freeze. He could feel that familiar blush rise up against his cheeks as you stared up at him cheekily.

“To you maybe,” he retorts, earning a small pout from you. “Say what you want, but I know you’re lying,” he watches the way you scrunch your nose before pointing a finger at him accusingly. “You could have walked today and yet, here you are.”

Checkmate.

Your smile widened as you watched the man beside you go silent. His cheeks turning a lovely rosy color as he frowned out the window, trying to ignore your comment.

Just once you thought you had got him, Bakugou turns to face you with the most handsome smug look as he nears you, “Only for you, sweetheart.”

You jumped back with a look of shock before heat rises up to your cheeks and thankfully, it was already your stop. You shoot him a quick goodbye before scurrying away, leaving Bakugou alone with your empty seat.

When the doors finally closed and the bus continued on, was when Bakugou broke into a flustered mess. He was starting to get too bold with you.

These next few rides were going to be interesting.

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

Masterlist Link

To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

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mehphoobia · 3 years

Text

AROMA

Pairing- Sebastian Stan(ceo) x reader(café owner)

Summary- Funny how a complete stranger is enough to add a little aroma to your life...

Warnings- I think there are none but if you fall for a soft Seb then❤

REQUEST OPEN

____________________________🤍_____________________________

"Write it down..two bags of Arabica, 500 gms of cinnamon sticks and .."

you placed your monthly order over phone and after you were done a female voice from the other side of the phone repeated your order to confirm. "Is that all it?" the voice enquired. "Yes that will be all for now and please Danielle send me two bags only. You know what trouble you had put me through when you sent me twenty bags of coffee."

Oh how could you forget, three weeks..it took three weeks to get over that problem when Danielle has messed up the order. Anyways that was around four months ago but would stop rubbing her nose on it? Definitely not. "Oh would you stop already please? The new head of the facility is pretty hot." expressed Danielle.

"Excuse me did you say hot?" you repeated the sentence as you chuckled. "I-I m-mean hot tempered. There is no room for any mistakes." she corrected.

Danielle, who happened to be your best friend worked in SIPHON the best facility which stored coffee which was imported and exported from and all around the world. When your grandfather had opened this café, he wanted nothing less than the best quality of coffee for his customers and SIPHON was the best place to choose from.

"Well isn't that satisfactory." you smiled as you thanked her and cut the call, to receive a notification from SIPHON that your order was confirmed and will be arriving in four days.

You sighed as you looked at the sky which appeared to be shy around you as it was changing its colors from a soft blue to a shade of orange marking the end of the day. As the sun was setting, the natural light ran along the walls giving life to all of the photographs that hung. "Are you happy pabby?" you asked the question to your grandfather's picture, wishing for it to answer. But as always it stayed quiet as it did for the past three years when you had taken over the café to keep your grandfather's dream alive.

It was a Sunday, the one day where you could open up your café a little late than usual. You groaned as you crawled from your bed and freshened up. Unlike every Sunday, you bought flower bouquets and headed towards the orphanage.

"Sister Amelia?" you stood near the gate and waited. "Y/N, oh!" Sister Amelia exclaimed you could feel the restlessness in her voice. Upon questioning she mentioned that some wealthy guy had come to talk to the children at the orphanage. It was not the number of people that scared Sister Amelia, it was the children. The sudden intrusion scared the children.

"Where is he?" you questioned as you handed over the bouquet. "Inside..but be careful" Sister Amelia warned as you stepped inside. You couldn't see the man at first but when he stood up from his crouched position, you were overwhelmed by his aura. His beautiful face was tensed up in confusion and awkwardness. You couldn't help but smile at his demeanor. He was dressed in a three piece suit stood like a child being punished as he was trying to get the children comfortable around him. It was so endearing and so was he.

"Sister y/n?" exclaimed Miguel, a five year old boy, as he came running to you. All the children seemed to have let go of their agony when they saw your face and hurdled around you. Funny what miracles a comforting smile from a person you know can do.

The man's tension disappeared when you walked the children towards him and introduced every single one of them. He spent around an hour with them before he finally spoke to you.

"Thank you" you flinched at his heavy voice. "What for?" you asked innocently. "Thank you for getting them comfortable. Its not a very usual sight to see. Anyways, my name is Sebastian Stan." he said as he extended his hands towards you. "Well its a shame that people find you intimidating Mr.Stan. My name is Y/L/N" you said as you accepted his greeting.

"Please call me Sebastian, Ms.Y/N" he said as both of you started walking down the stairs. "Please call me Y/N." The sudden mimicry caused him to laugh and you chuckled. It was a small town and almost everyone knew about one another. It was nice to talk to someone new like him.

"So Sebastian, what business do you have here?" you asked him as the both of you decided to sit on one of the stairs. He whipped his head in your direction when you said his name but you couldn't see that as the children and their playful laughter had attracted your attention. He looked at how beautifully the sun rays decorated your skin and how the shadow of the leaves hid your skin from the sun rays. How beautiful your eyes looked every time you smiled. It made him smile too.

The sudden silence shifted your attention back to Sebastian and you caught him staring at you. He realized that the question was left attended for, "I took over the facility here. SIPHON" he cleared his throat. "So you are the new head?" you asked causing him to frown.

"How did.." he questioned.

"Oh I have a café and all my coffee based orders are from SIPHON" you explained to which he nodded. You talked about how you took over the café and about your grandfather. He heard everything silently, how passionately you talked about your work and your family.

"You must really like your job, I mean taking over an entire facility..its a great deal" you spoke to which he lowered his glance. "Its complicated, I was forced to take over the facility. I thought maybe if I make myself familiar to the surroundings, I would like this place so we visited the orphanage" he said looking at the children. "To be honest I know my business but its just business for me, its not something that I like to do. I can't even differentiate between different types of coffees and here I am running an entire facility." the way his face fell while he expressed about his situation, you knew he didn't want this kind of life. His earlier sentence of people being uncomfortable around him made sense. He never let him be himself around people because he was forced and he was afraid.

Both of you got up and walked down the remaining stairs and reached the gate. He thanked you for your gesture and sat in his car and just then, "You know what, every kind of coffee is unique and has different characteristics but the main difference comes from the aroma. So the next time you look at a coffee bag, observe the aroma" you spoke. He sighed and looked at your reassuring smile. You started walking away after bidding him goodbye and he looked at your figure getting smaller as you walked away from him.

"Sir may we leave for the facility?" his secretary questioned him from the front sit.

"Yes and also please keep me updated about Ms. Y/N" he said your name with a smile plastered on his face as his car made its way towards the facility.

Finally you received your delivery from SIPHON and the correct number of bags made you chuckle. But there happened to be a letter on top of the cinnamon packet which was beautifully decorated in the colors of white and gold. As you picked up the letter and began reading it, you smiled.

"You were right, the aromas are different and so are you." it read.

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A/N: Hey guys this is my one first Sebastian Stan fanfic. I hope you all like this one. This plot has been one my mind for couple of days and I found this very pure and simple and I thought Sebastian Stan would be perfect for it cause he has this aura I absolutely love.

My requests are open so you can go ahead and send me your plots and please do go and check out my other fanfictions as well.

REQUEST OPEN

Love yourself...you are worth it❣❣

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everafterkeiji · 4 years

Text

Song: Cheater by The Vamps

Summary: Kuroo's skills in reading a game has been expanded when he meets your boyfriend.

Pairings: Tetsuro Kuroo x fem! reader

Word count: 3.3k

Content, tags: mentions of cheating, a few cuss words, childhood friends to lovers!

A/N: this was such an impulsive moment🧍 Kuroo has been consuming my brain so here ya go fellow simps

“Am I obligated to?”

“It was his request, Tetsu.”

Kuroo groans while you stare at him wondering what’s so wrong about meeting with your boyfriend. He sees your clueless reaction but he sets it aside knowing you wanted this to happen in the first place. Although you didn’t push him, your boyfriend insisted. It was a sweet gesture because he took the time to understand that Tetsuro to you is just a friend and nothing else. Disregarding his jealousy of the intimidating volleyball player, he initiated the hang out.

Meanwhile, the proud captain was loathing the hours before he could even step into your boyfriend's house.

If you could pick one of the words to describe Kuroo, obviously one of them is self-aware.

Which is the antonym of what you have under your own dictionary.

Kuroo always puts his best during a match and he wasn’t looked upon for no reason. Of course, he’s observant out of the court too. So, when that boyfriend of yours came in to the picture—he wasn’t exactly keen on befriending him. All he can do is accept whatever that decision was because he did catch multiple glances where you were smiling and maybe seeing that put him at ease making him less worried with your relationship.

But his intuition is stronger than the actual belief that your boyfriend is all too good.

Besides, as a best friend, it was technically his job to be suspicious of the boy.

“I’ll go over there after practice.” You smile at his words before linking your arm with his as you both walk to your class.

“Hey, by Saturday can we play again?” You asked him while he looks down on you with a chuckle, loving that you had to ask even when you didn’t need to do.

“Why’d you ask anyway? Of course.”

It was admirable that your path of being with each other actually started with volleyball. At the age of 9 after a ball fled into your yard from the Kozume residence, Kuroo had knocked politely on the wall asking if he could get the ball back. Seeing that the wall felt like a building to you, you took the ball out of curiosity before going over to the place next door and handing him the ball.

Wherein Kuroo had to pause when he saw you.

Ever since then, you played volleyball with the two. You three joined Nekoma’s volleyball teams, even practicing together. You were thankful to have them not only they were tremendous at play but also, they were your most trusted friends and their judgement is always important. So, when you got into a relationship—it was a mix of everything.

Kenma was subtly supportive. He knew you were capable of picking what you deserve and if that boy doesn’t cause any trouble, then the setter is all for it. Kuroo, on the other hand, was hesitant.

If only he wasn’t in love with you—then maybe he could’ve given the poor boy some sign of approval.

After years of falling, his chances were already taken the moment you said your feelings were growing for a certain boy from your class. Though you were classmates with Kuroo, he eyed every boy that could be the suspect. At first, he was just curious because he hasn’t seen you interact with them before but then the second time was more on the worried side when he wondered what could’ve been missing from him that he had to find in another guy for answers.

Kenma had to assure him at some point. The blonde noticed Kuroo’s feelings ever since he saw the older boy teach you volleyball without him. He could evidently see the blush on his friends face whenever you’d land a compliment to Tetsuro. It even surprised Kenma when he knew Kuroo was still attached to his feelings after years of knowing you. He at least needed to say something before it takes a toll on him.

“You’re actually going, it’s funny.” The setter mocks though the blocker knew what he meant. How can he agree this easily anyway? He knew it’d make you happy but making room for someone after a practice instead of resting isn’t really a good circumstance.

“I know, I know. I’d be home in the next five minutes.” Kuroo jokes but when the practice finally ends, he kept his attention to his phone when he received the message for his location. He sighs tiredly while Kenma stifles a laugh.

“Don’t go then.”

“As if that wasn’t my plan beforehand.” Kenma rolls his eyes but bids goodbye to Kuroo knowing they’re not able to walk home together.

God, he was irritated.

It was rather a small thing to be pissed off about. Who knows? It could end well with the two of them but that stupid intuition is what’s dragging his feet. How could he ignore it anyway? Murmurs were like rumors that spread like wildfire when gossip has never been this good so when he heard a tiny conversation of a certain girl meeting with your boyfriend—he doesn’t know what held him back from throwing a punch to him right then and there but perhaps it was because you can’t judge too quickly. Rumors were rumors. If he believed it right away then it meant he was feeding off of the possibility that you’d be single again but he doesn’t think like that. His main reason was that he couldn’t bear to see you cry over a guy who simply didn’t deserve an ounce of sympathy—especially from you.

And right at the front of his door, a pair of a cheerleader's shoes were there.

You being a volleyball player and the shoes didn’t exactly connect.

“I’ll see you next time then?”

“Saturday?”

“I can’t. My— Y/N is making me play with her and that captain Kuroo.”

“You said you broke up with her!”

“Look- I will just wait will ya?”

And he’s heard enough.

Go inside, Tetsuro.

Defend Y/N.

Beat him.

But I can’t act on my own.

Gritting his teeth with a tight grip on the sling of his bag, he makes a forced decision.

Kuroo doesn’t even hesitate to walk away now. His pace is way heavier and faster compared to his slow ones before. He wished he carried a volleyball so he could directly throw it to his conniving face. He would’ve hit it like Oikawa during a power serve and scream incoherent profanities as he lands a punch or two. Without Kenma, the possibilities were endless when he couldn’t be held back.

The moment he enters his room, he immediately reaches for his phone and calls for Kenma since the rage was getting out of hand and he can’t focus on anything else apart from beating the heck out of your cheater of a boyfriend- well soon to be ex considering that he could never let you stay with him for another second. He walks around his room wondering which one was the best options to let you know as the setter has yet to answer his call.

“Fuck.” He mutters at the exact same time that Kenma finally picks up.

“What-”

“He’s cheating on Y/N.”

“Well shit.”

Kenma pauses his game once the words ring in his ears. He too feels the anger bubble inside him but soon it was replaced by worry when he realizes how unfortunate it was for Kuroo to be the one to witness it and actually be the person to face you with such a heavy topic.

“How are you gonna tell her?” He asks but Kuroo bites his lip at the question he’s been wanting to avoid. It was inescapable though. You were closer to him—too close that you two relied on each other to no end and would be each other's comfort at needed times. It was difficult for the both of you.

“He’s planning to break up with her on Saturday and she- fuck I don’t know what to do.” The troubled boy admits while Kenma sighs not finding a win in both situations or any of the options he and Kuroo thought of.

“Y/N will believe you. You just have to give her time when she denies it at first, I guess.” Kenma suggests while Kuroo runs a hand to his hair.

“God, I fucking hate him.”

“Who is it?”

“A fucking cheerleader— how low.” Tetsuro couldn’t sit straight. Every inch of his body was telling him to find your boyfriend and show him what a waste of energy he was. It had been three months since you introduced him and how does he gain that much of a confidence to cheat at such an early stage of your relationship? Was three months a normal pace to be bored? Too bored that he chose a cheerleader to make up for that ‘blandness'. God, if Kuroo was in that relationship—cheating could never be an option. How could he? He loved you too much that having a chance wasted like that is too big to risk or experience.

“Talk to him tomorrow.” Kenma says while Kuroo held his breath when he realizes how the tension would reek between him and your boyfriend.

“Yeah but-“

The notification sound on his phone echoed through the room and when he slides up to see whose it from, he sighs when it was from you.

Least annoying: how’d it go???

“Y/N messaged me.” He updates the blonde as his fingers hovered the keyboard wondering what lie was the most believable even if he felt guilty to do so but after deleting multiple answers, he just couldn’t t do it.

“We just have to talk to her tomorrow. I feel like she needs us more now—fucking prick of a boyfriend.” Kenma comments with spite in his voice. It wasn’t the first time where he cared too much that he too wanted to join Kuroo in a fit of rage to beat your boyfriend but Kenma is cautious of your emotions and thinks that when he does join in on the fight, it’d only bring you more stress.

But he can’t lie and say throwing a punch to the lying boy wasn’t going to bring him satisfaction.

“Okay. I have to go and think this through.” He bids goodbye to Kenma before hanging up and lying down on his bed with his mind racing nonstop—forgetting to text you in the midst of panic and rage. You didn’t mind the lack of reply, you knew he wasn’t really interested in going in the first place and he must’ve been exhausted from practice as well so you took a nap early.

Meanwhile, your best friend faced a sleepless night.

Kuroo and Kenma were caught off guard when first period ended and you were yet to arrive.

Does she know?

The break came in and there still wasn’t a sign from you but as they ate, a certain hand falls on Kuroo’s shoulder making the anger between him and Kenma ignite once they see your boyfriend.

“Hey, you didn’t stop by yesterday.” Your boyfriend informs him while Yaku and the rest of the team wonder what’s got their captain looking like he radiated flames around him. Kuroo then removes the hand from his shoulder while Kenma nudges the tense boy from losing control out in the cafeteria.

“I was tired,” he pauses to find words that wouldn’t just expose him right then and there, “I couldn’t make it.”

Your boyfriend nods, a sign that he was thankful that Kuroo didn’t come to destroy the time he shared with the cheerleader.

“Well, we got Saturday to catch up. I’ll see you then!” He leaves with a sigh of relief while Kuroo stands up from his table, unable to contain it anymore but two hands held him back. He turns to see Yaku and Kenma holding his arm as he hesitates to follow what they want him to do. He then takes a deep breath and sits down while the two sighed that Kuroo managed to stop.

“I don’t know what’s happening but you can’t just do it here.” Yaku says making Kuroo remain silent. Kenma agrees but he too felt the urge to follow his furious friend.

“Sorry.” Kuroo whispers and Yaku nods not pushing the topic any further but he’s got a clue on what could’ve happened. Seeing their captain in this state certainly was more than a duel between him and your boyfriend. Of course, they knew about his feelings for you so connecting a few dots, Yaku realizes how bad it was.

Classes went on and still no sign of you making the worry rise more between the two. By the time practice came on, the two expresses their frustration through volleyball and the rest of their teammates wonder why their play that night felt like they were in a serious match.

But they were playing a difficult role of being honest with you.

When Saturday rolled in, Kuroo was already at the place you told him to meet. Beforehand, he warns Kenma not to come knowing it’s more on his responsibility and the blonde obeyed him because he too wasn’t ready to face a confrontation like that but Kenma is more than ready to comfort you once the terrible news was given to you.

“Hey!” You greeted him with a smile while he stands up from his sit and hugs you immediately catching you by surprise. With a laugh, you hugged him back wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer hesitant to let your smile fall.

Then he notices how you were unaccompanied making him pull away seeing the opportunity to tell you while he wasn’t there but he still wasn’t ready.

“Y/N-”

“Hey babe, didn’t know you were already here but let’s play some volleyball!” He shouts with a façade of excitement. You smile at Kuroo before staying by his side instead of teaming up with your own boyfriend.

“One versus two huh?” Your boyfriend taunts while you serve the ball as he receives, initiating the start of the game. Every spike or receive had Kuroo send knives to his way with his sharp and accusing eyes. The lonesome of a player envied the way Kuroo caught the ball effortlessly and because you chose to be with the opposing team making the rally last longer due to Kuroo’s rage and your boyfriends' jealousy.

Once you managed to spike a ball strong enough to make your boyfriend fall from the failed attempt of receiving it, you cheered.

But with the course of happiness, you pulled Kuroo in from the collar of his shirt before taking your lips in his while your boyfriend remains frozen as the boy who was stupidly in love only made the rightful choice which was to kiss back and cherish the way he’s waited for this to happen. Getting a little too lost in the kiss, he cups your cheek bringing you closer and tucking your hair behind your ear with his free hand snaking around your waist, gripping it lightly to make sure it was actually happening.

You pull away softly, flushed cheeks and a smile on your face.

“What the hell Y/N!” Your boyfriend shouts but then he couldn’t exactly move because of how Tetsuro would react once he actually takes a step forward. Kuroo had his arms crossed in front of his chest staring at the boy up and down while desperately trying to act like his knees weren’t just about to give out after what happened.

“What’s wrong? If you need some kisses babe, why don’t you call that cheerleader of yours?”

Kuroo’s jaw drops to the floor—almost in sync with your boyfriend's similar reaction. The sweat rolls down his forehead, obviously intimidated by the two of you catching him in the act while Tetsuro protectively wraps his arm around you once again and as he watches for your features to fall, he was stunned.

You were smiling.

You leaned on Kuroo’s side while he registers how you knew with questions multiplying with every second.

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone and if you even try to deny it—I'll let Tetsu do the talking for me.” He smirks while your boy- ex boyfriend- scoffs making the two of you raise an eyebrow at his reaction.

You removed your position from Kuroo, taking a few steps to be in front of the cheater with a smile as you land a deserving and powerful punch to his cheek, making him stumble at the impact while the other boy was left speechless but nonetheless his heart races with the scene replaying in his mind. You shake your hand as Kuroo crouches down to meet your boyfriend with a smirk mocking the pain he was in.

“Have fun with her— she's a bore anyway.” You look at Tetsuro who let out a laugh as he pats the head of the fallen loser.

“No problem then. I’ll enjoy her as much as I can.” He then walks away, which turned down your expectations of Kuroo landing a punch as well. As the frustrated boy slowly stands up, Tetsuro pulls you against him with a finger to your chin raising it to meet your lip with his as your eyes remained on him while the boy had his eyes do the taunting who were fixated on your ex.

“After all, she’s always been mine.”

With the end of his sentence, he shifts his attention back to you before taking your lips again as the two of you smile. Your ex then walks away with a scowl as he throws his phone in frustration that he lost to Kuroo.

“Mind telling me how you knew, kitten?” He asks when he pulled away with his voice low, taking your heart by a storm.

“I got sick yesterday and when I came to school to get all the work I missed— I overheard you and Kenma talking about it.” He frowns when he realizes how bitter that must’ve been but he continues to ask, though you really couldn’t concentrate when his hand was caressing your waist.

“So, you knew all along?”

“I knew about it a few weeks ago when I read the messages on his phone. When he asked you to hang out, I figured you’d find out about it too.” Kuroo sighs of disappointment before speaking.

“I’m sorry you had to meet an asshole like that,” He says while you shook your head before he continues, “Why him though?” which made you blush.

“I couldn’t get over a certain boy and simply thought it would work but you obviously saw the outcome.” With your previous statement, he lets a smirk fall on his lips now that you couldn’t even look at him straight.

“And that certain boy is?” He edged on, his heart pushing him to confirm if it was actually him— that all the years he spent loving you might actually have you reciprocating those feelings.

“It’s you.” You confessed while your heart sets on fire that you finally admitted it. It was an awful attempt to cover your feelings in the first place. In all honesty, it was your fault. If you could’ve just admitted it right away then you’d end up with him instead of the asshole of a man you wasted time on but then again—the kiss was worth it to ever change your decisions.

“No no I wanna hear the full name.” He teases more making you roll your eyes. He then plants a kiss on the crown of your head with a satisfied smile as he internally cheers to not embarrass himself with the overwhelming glee. You also mirror the same state that he was in. Hearing Kuroo at the gym say how much he loves you was enough of an evidence that you should’ve picked him in the first place.

“Well then, should I make my previous statement official now?” You blushed but muttered a yes making Kuroo smile and take your hand, landing a peck on it as he intertwines them with his.

“All yours, Tetsu.”

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #tetsuro kuroo #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

— first meetings.

juliet’s masterlist

note: obviously i don’t know what exactly happened that day at mama/award shows in general, so this is mainly based on my own imagination!!

words in bold are spoken in english!!

set on december 5, 2019

summary: juliet catches the eye of a certain someone at mama 2019, and got to meet him all thanks to one jung wooyoung.

a/n: 👀

“That ended way too soon,” Juliet sighs contentedly to Jongho, leaning into his shoulder. Though being exhausted physically from the long day and their performances, her heart has never felt this full.

If you told her a few years ago that she’d be invited to attend MAMA she’d surely laugh in disbelief, but here they are—having performed and received a award in front of one of the largest crowds she’s ever seen with eight of the most important people in her life.

If this is all a dream, Juliet never wants to wake up.

Jongho rests his head on hers. “Yeah,” he says softly, “it feels like... we really made it.”

“You didn’t feel that when we were on tour?” she teases.

“Of course I did, but you know what I mean.” Juliet nods against the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe we’d ever in be the same room as that many big names in the industry, you know?”

She hums. “We’ve come a long way.”

Despite the tender moment between the two youngest members, it’s chaos all around them as their staff hastily packs everything—props, makeup, accessories, costumes, the works—back into suitcases and boxes as they prepare to leave the venue.

“Where are you going?” Jongho asks when Juliet shifts to get up.

“Washroom,” she answers, and he nods before shooing her away jokingly.

Laughing, she slips out of ATEEZ’s waiting room and into the hallway. In her hoodie and matching sweatpants under a long coat, Juliet would’ve blended in with the staff members rushing around to wrap everything up if it weren’t for her styled hair and glittery makeup, both of which she decided to keep on until they get back to the dorms. Just to prolong the magical feeling from tonight.

Just as she’s about to go into the washroom, she hears someone—definitely Wooyoung—shout her name from behind.

“Found you!” Wooyoung, dressed as casually as she is, says gleefully as he pulls her in the opposite direction. “Thank me later, okay?”

“For what? For abducting me outside the women’s restroom?”

Wooyoung snorts. “There’s a good reason—”

“I don’t think there’s ever a good enough justification for stopping someone from going to the toilet! Besides, our managers said we have to leave soon!”

“Yes, there is! Because I’m taking you to meet your favourite seniors!”

Juliet stops in the middle of the crowded hallway. “Wait, who?” she asks suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

Wooyoung’s eyes practically shine when he answers, “SEVENTEEN-sunbaenim!”

“Huh? Why would they want to—Yow! If you keep pulling that hard my arm’s gonna fall off!” she whines as he continues to tug her down the corridor. “How do you even know them?”

“I ran into Seungkwan-sunbaenim in the washroom, and he complimented our performance before saying he’d love to meet more of our members!” Wooyoung explains, oblivious to the way Juliet’s eyes widen. “I was gonna go to our waiting room to grab all of you, but then I realised we probably have to leave soon and was about to turn back when I saw you! This is it!” he finishes excitedly, stopping in front of a door with a label saying ‘SEVENTEEN’ attached to it.

He’s about to knock on the door when her hand shoots up to catch his fist. “Wait! I can’t go in there!” she suddenly protests. “It’s going to be so awkward.”

Wooyoung frowns confusedly. “Huh? Why? We’re just gonna introduce ourselves and stay for a few minut—oh. Oh. Are you still embarrassed by what happened during the show?” he teases, giggling at the way her gaze averts. “Aigoo, it’s going to be okay! I promise you it wasn’t a big deal.”

“She’s amazing,” Juliet leans closer to Wooyoung to murmur dreamily as they watch Chungha’s performance, eyes not leaving the small screen placed in front of their seats. “Everything about this is incredible.”

“I know,” Wooyoung agrees, equally as starstruck. “Also, did you notice we’re sitting in front of SEVENTEEN-sunbaenim?” he asks in a much quieter voice. “Don’t look, though! Act natural.”

“I wasn’t even gonna look!” she complains before whispering, “but yeah, I wanted to tell you but then the show started and I didn’t want them to hear me.”

“You don’t think they can hear us now, right?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure the music and crowd are too loud for that.”

Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement before they continue to pay full attention to the performance, Juliet mouthing along to the lyrics and subtly doing the key points of the dance.

She gasps quietly when the dance break starts, fully entranced by Chungha’s performance and decides she wants a better view of the choreography, so she cranes her head to find one of the big screens located all around the dome.

The moment she turns to look behind her for said screens, her eyes meet those of SEVENTEEN’s maknae. If she weren’t so startled, she would’ve found the situation more amusing from the way both of their eyes widened before quickly looking away, and she feels the embarrassment burn hot within her as she decides to stick to watching the smaller screen in front of her instead.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks as Chungha’s performance ends, noticing how Juliet had stiffened up, a stark contrast to her relaxed form from when they were enjoying the other performances.

“Come closer,” she mutters, gesturing with her hand for him to lean in before whispering, “I was trying to watch the big screen just now and accidentally made eye contact with Dino-sunbaenim for a few seconds.”

Wooyoung snorts. “I swear, these things only happen to you, dummy. What happened after that?”

“I turned the frick back around, of course!” Juliet whispers back furiously. “It was so embarrassing.”

“If someone caught that on camera and puts it on YouTube or Twitter or whatever, I’m never letting you live that down.”

Juliet groans and buries her head in her hands, ignoring Wooyoung’s giggles and San’s curious whine of “What? What were you guys talking about?”

The sound of firm knocking snaps Juliet out of her thoughts.

“Jesus, Wooyoungie, you’re going to wake the dead knocking like that,” she mutters in a pitiful attempt to distract herself from the pounding in her chest. Truly, she doesn’t know how Wooyoung handles meeting new people with so much ease. She could never.

“It’s them! I got it!” A voice says from inside the room, one that unmistakably belongs to Seungkwan, calls out. There’s a few seconds of hurried footsteps before the door is thrown open, revealing the beaming main vocalist of SEVENTEEN.

“Hello,” Wooyoung and Juliet say in unison, bowing to their senior.

“Oh, there’s no need for that!” Seungkwan says kindly, inviting them into the room. Juliet sticks close to her member as various staff members crane their necks to observe the newcomers, hoping that hiding behind Wooyoung will make her less visible to everyone. Thankfully, the staff quickly turns back to their work, paying them no further attention as the trio move further into the waiting room.

Juliet feels like her ears are on fire, barely registering Wooyoung explain to Seungkwan that he didn’t have time to bring the others. Then she realises who Seungkwan is leading them to, and her heart drops.

Is it too late to run away?

Apparently not, as Wooyoung seems to have noticed her slowing footsteps and proceeds to gently pull her along by the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. She wonders where the nearest hole to bury herself in is when Seungkwan calls out to two of his members, and she’s sure her cheeks are bright red when Vernon and Chan look up at the approaching trio.

“Look who I brought,” Seungkwan sings as the two ATEEZ members murmur greetings before introducing themselves.

Juliet thinks she’s about to pass out when Chan gets up and offers his seat to her. “No, no, you don’t have to,” she says shyly, frantically waving her hands, “we won’t be staying long anyways.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “there are spare chairs right there.”

She feels a small nudge on her other side, turning her head in that direction to find Wooyoung wriggling his brows at her. Utterly mortified, she looks away from her member to thank Chan profusely instead, before hesitantly sitting in the chair he was occupying just a minute ago.

Is it just her, or is the room getting unbearably hot? Taking a deep breath, she removes her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair while Chan drags over two more chairs for him and Wooyoung.

“Are you okay?” Vernon asks worriedly from beside her, noting her red cheeks and ears. “I can turn down the heat, if you want.”

“Oh, no. I’m good, thank you,” Juliet replies sheepishly, wringing her fingers together nervously. “I just turn red really easily when embarrassed... because... this is... kinda awkward.”

He laughs good-naturedly. “We don’t bite,” he assures, “congratulations on your award, by the way.”

“Thank you, you too. We loved your performance,” she says genuinely. “We were all jamming out back there.”

“Ah, I wish we were there to see yours. We were preparing for ours during it so I only caught snippets of it. You were also the one giving the speech in English earlier, right?”

“Yeah, I’m from Australia so I usually take care of the English speeches.”

“Explains the accent.”

“I get that a lot,” Juliet says wryly, eliciting chuckles from the both of them.

“Yah, are you two excluding us because we can’t speak English?”

“Yeah!” Wooyoung chimes in in support of Seungkwan, “what were you two talking about?”

Juliet cocks a brow at him. “Are you sure you want to know?”

To her delight, Vernon plays along. “What if we tell you that we’ve been gossiping about you three the entire time?”

“What’s this about gossip I hear?” Jeonghan cheekily butts in, appearing in the space between Juliet and Wooyoung. She squeaks from surprise, and looks up to find him already grinning down at her. “Hi.”

“H-hello, Jeonghan-sunbaenim.”

Seungkwan bats him away. “Hyung! You’re scaring the poor girl. Also, this zone is for maknaes only, shoo shoo!”

Juliet smiles, the scene in front of her reminding her of ATEEZ’s sibling-like dynamic. Jeonghan’s presence lessens the awkward energy even more, and soon she can feel the tenseness dissipate from her body, starting to genuinely relax as she engages with the others. Sadly, their animated conversation only lasts for a couple more minutes when Wooyoung gets a message from Jongho asking for his whereabouts and if he’s seen Juliet.

“Oops, I think they’re looking for us,” he tells her, sounding completely unapologetic (though she can’t really blame him this time). “We should probably go.”

Juliet agrees, watching in amusement when Seungkwan asks for Wooyoung’s number because this is probably the most starstruck she’s ever seen Wooyoung look.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He rejoices on the way back to their dressing room. “I got Seungkwannie-hyung’s number, and you got to meet the others! You had fun!”

“Okay, I’ll admit that it was pretty f—”

Juliet suddenly stops cold, cutting herself off with a loud gasp as her hands fly up to cover her mouth from shock.

Wooyoung’s eyes widen in alarm as his head whips around frantically. “What? What’s wrong? What did you see?”

“I... I think I left my coat in their room. I put it on the back of the chair and... forgot to take it when we left.”

He blinks at her owlishly while her words sink in. Then he starts cackling.

“Stop! This isn’t funny!” Juliet wails. “What do I do?”

“What do you mean? Go back and grab it, of course!”

“Can’t you do it for me?” she pleads, giving him her best puppy eyes.

Wooyoung scoffs. “No way. That’d be rude. I’ll wait for you here while you go get it.”

“You’re actually the worst,” she groans, though they both know she doesn’t mean it.

He pats her on the back. “You’ll thank me sometime in the future.”

Juliet frowns at his cryptic tone before heading back to SEVENTEEN’s room with an exaggerated sigh that she made sure Wooyoung heard. The humiliation is already starting to build in her gut, creating a churning feeling in her stomach. Talk about leaving a questionable impression, she thinks dejectedly. Must she always be so forgetful?

“Juliet-ssi?”

Something within her crumbles like a tower built from toothpicks when she glances up to find herself face-to-face with none other than Lee Chan.

“I—um... you left your coat,” he says quickly, not quite meeting her eyes as he hands her the garment.

Juliet accepts it hurriedly with a bow, hugging the coat to her chest tightly for some semblance of comfort. From what, she doesn’t know. Probably the sheer embarrassment. “Thank you, I was... on my way to go get it.”

“Right, I... I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah... okay... thank you again.”

The two of them exchange one final nod before turning away and speed-walking in opposite directions.

She’s definitely changing her name and moving to Mars. Juliet Baek? Never heard of her.

“What did they say?” Wooyoung asks curiously when Juliet approaches him. His bewilderment increases tenfold when the girl strides right past him with rushed steps instead of stopping.

He jogs to catch up with her, raising a hand to poke at her cheek. “Aw, why are you blushing again? What happened?” he presses on with a coo, obviously teasing the maknae.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just never gonna show my face in this industry ever again.”

a/n: on today’s episode of the boys not letting juliet breathe 💀💀💀💀 bro if this happened to me i’d google map the nearest cliff to fling myself off of 😭 10k awkward-acquaintances-to-lovers slowburn let’s go 😼😼 please leave feedback and chat with me!! as always thank you for reading and take care 💕

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Text

How Do I Love Thee? | Knight!Weaver x Princess!Reader | Medieval AU | Chpt. 1

Summary:

The day has finally come. Your bodyguard, the man you've trusted with your life since the day you were born, has reached the age of retirement. Being the only child of your royal parents, the King and Queen are quite keen on keeping you safe, so naturally a new one must be selected. When the dust of the tournament settles, a champion is chosen, one far younger and stronger then the last...

In an age full of tales of handsome men in shining armor and chivalrous heroes of great courage and honor, could you be in for a forbiden love story of your own?

Tags: Slow burn

Warnings: None, except for a small fight scene involving mentions of blood

“Goodnight my Lady”, your lady in waiting bows her head politely as she exits your chambers, closing the heavy wooden doors behind her with a soft thump. Her footsteps recede off into the night down through the thick stone corridors as you lay awake in your downy bed. Two sconces glow faintly in the night, providing just enough light for you to navigate the large, dark room.

Once you’re sure you’re alone, you grab your small candle and pad across the cool stone floor to steal some light. It catches quickly and you’re off once more to your desk. You pull out your poetry books and studies to retrieve a small leather bound notebook. It contains all sorts of things like sketches and sonnets that you've penned, but most of all it’s filled with your musings of the day.

You tap your quill on the edge of the inkwell and set its point to the parchment.

Today has been a rather sad one indeed. Your old guardsman has retired from your father’s service, the very same man who’s protected you and your person since you were but a little girl. He’s much like a grandfather to you in a way, and it pains you very deeply to see him leave you. Your father has tried to comfort you with the promise that a tournament will be held the very next day to get you a new guard as soon as possible, but the absence of a knight isn’t what troubles you.

You sniffle, a tear threatening fall from your eyes as you pause, recalling a lifetime of memories and yet being forced to let them go. Gathering your strength with a deep breath, you write the final words you old guard left you with:

“Be brave, my little Princess. I know you can”

At last you write that you are not looking forward to tomorrow and that you expect to be quite beside yourself. It’s all you can write before the despondency overcomes you again.

Being the Lady that you are, you retrieve one of your ever present nearby handkerchiefs and dry your eyes. You set your journal back into it’s hidden home and restore your books to keep it safe. With the desk returned just as it was, you tiptoe back to bed and blow out your candle. Moving aside the velvet drape, you think one last time on your faithful old guard, remembering all the memories of your childhood you shared as you climb back under the sheets.

Tomorrow is a new chapter for the both of you, you suppose. You hope his story ends sweetly.

---

The tournament begins with much fanfare and ado as the festivities kick things off. You’re sitting pretty in a lovely silk gown between your mother and father, both equally dressed up. There’s games and feasting and music and dancing… All the things something of this magnitude should include.

And, as you predicted, you’re quite bored indeed.

As yet another jaunty reel plays from the minstrels, you can’t help but roll your eyes and look onwards. Past the castle grounds, past the village, past the fields and farm lands… Way, way out in the distance to the forest and mountains.

That’s where your soul lies.

Being the Princess is all well and good, but in truth, your heart yearns for nothing more than to simply be free. Even if all that’s out there is more grass and trees, just as there is all around you, oh what you’d give for the chance to see it. To touch the grass and leaves you’ve never seen before. To feel and smell the wind in it’s wild, untamed stomping grounds. Some days you dream of just running away, but…

Well, your guard would never allow it. And, here you are, getting assigned yet another figure to keep an eye on you in the name of your father.

A blast of trumpets shatters your daydream as your attention is called back to present. The royal scribe stands on a podium, announcing the main attraction at last. He reads off a long, tiresome list of names “Sir this and that”, “Lord ho hum”, ugh… At least the fighting should be entertaining, you suppose.

There are several rounds and three main competitions: Jousting, Dueling, and Archery. Score will be kept and knights slowly eliminated until a final two are left, at which point, the two will engage in a duel and may the best man win.

Admittedly, you tune out for the first several rounds until the riff raff and washed up old timers are sorted out. Not as though you have any say in the matter, but you pick a few favorites and follow their progress through the competition. Although in all honesty, you pick said favorites by their horses and the colors and patterns of their coat of arms.

However… One knight in particular has caught your eye both in skill and trappings.

His coat of arms features a fierce looking tiger and swords, the style of which tells you his family hails from somewhere out east, and his horse is a lovely dusty grey. Even you must admit, his skills so far aren’t bad either. He’s coasting through the competition with little difficulty and, even with the few close calls here and there, by the time he’s made it up to the final rounds you would almost dare to say you have your heart set on him.

Silently you root him on as he tiredly batters through opponent after opponent, somehow maintaining strength and endurance up until the very last man. A few breaks have been called in between rounds up until this point, but now the last two will be taking a long recession before the final fight.

Food and drink and dance is had once more for peasants and nobility alike while each knight gathers their strength, but you can’t keep your mind off the excitement of the final duel...

When at last, the time has come, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Once more the scribe’s voice rings out over the silent crowd as the two men ready themselves in opposing corners of the muddy sparring ring, “Fighting for the honor of being named the new protectorate of the Princess, Sir Weaver and Lord Fletcher will face each other in armed combat! The rules are as follows-”

The scribe's voice fades away, and immediatly your mind begins to wander.

Sir Weaver…

The name rolls off your tongue as you watch him pace and stretch in his corner of the ring. He’s armed with a sword and shield, classic weapons of the heroes of old, just like in your books and sonnets… His shield is tall and rectangular, with that very same tiger proudly emblazoned on its front. He gives his sword a few test swings and even from here you can hear the ringing of razor sharp steel.

His opponent wields a smaller shield and a rather nasty looking mace, a classic for smashing heads and armor alike. Thankfully you won’t have to bear witness to such violence should Sir Weaver lose, but you don’t much fancy the idea of such a savage weapon anyway. It may have its place in battle, but it doesn’t seem very… Heroic.

After far too much more courtly addresses, a trumpet sounds to begin the fight.

The Lord charges the Knight, mace raised to strike, as Sir Weaver stands his ground like a tower of strength. He deflects the blow easily, as well as the few more that come after it. A smart tactic, you observe, letting the opponent come to him and tire himself out. Lord Fletcher seems to believe that he can smash right through the great steel shield as that’s where most of his strikes end up landing. Sir Weaver’s tiger is quite battered, but holds out well.

All the overhead motions of the mace swings prove to be a disservice soon enough though, as the knight stabs his way through chinks in the armor here and there as the Lord slowly grows more and more weary. His movements become sluggish and desperate, a lethal combo, and before long the mud is mixed red with the wounds of the mace wielding Lord.

To his credit, he fights to the bitter end, but the duel is called before too much blood is shed.

A roar of approval goes up from the crowd. Amidst the cheering and the fanfare, Sir Weaver bows politely before the royal family and makes to exit the arena. You cock an eyebrow. Curious, you would’ve expected more of a show given the grand odds he just overcame.

Regardless, you clap politely and watch the two men exit the ring. It’s nearly night by now and there’s still more to do. Tomorrow your new knight will be sworn in and given his orders and hours and so forth… But for now, you have many things to tell your journal tonight.

---

The next day begins as it always does. You wake up at sunrise. Your chamber maid helps you dress, pick out your outfit for the day, and style your hair. Finally, you’re ready to join your family and the court for breakfast. A few questions come your way asking about whether or not you’re excited to meet your new knight and what you thought of the tourney yesterday, but otherwise you’re ignored as usual.

When breakfast passes, the court moves on to the throne room. It’s easily the most illustrious room in the palace, save for perhaps a few that suit your particular tastes. Small windows sit high above near the vaulted ceiling, raining in sunlight and fresh air from far above. Giant chandeliers hang proudly, holding a dizzying host of candles. The walls are blanketed in gorgeous tapestries, some of which you’ve had the honor of assisting in the weaving of. They’re laced with threads of gold and silk, and when they catch the light just right, they give off an ethereal glow, bringing the stagnant scenes to life.

The typical court proceedings will begin shortly, but first the matter of your new bodyguard is to be addressed. Soon enough, Sir Grigori Weaver of, so on and so forth… is announced to the court. Finally, something interesting for the day. You sit up properly in your throne and take in the sight.

He’s dressed in an appropriately fancy set of gambeson and hose, clearly his armor is off to be under repairs. His one arm hangs freely, the other rests on the pommel of his sword, and he takes a brief look at his surroundings. He carries himself with purpose and a serious air which could almost take a turn for intimidating given a closer look. His face is rough with prickly stubble contrasted by a long, smooth mustache and hair combo. Between the two lies no feature of note aside from a grizzly scar running across a cloudy white, useless eye.

Sir Weaver nods towards you and your mother, then offers your father a proper bow, “My liege”

Your father smiles, and you can already tell you’re about to be stuck with this man whether you like it or not. He tells the knight to rise and after a brief exchange of greeting, Sir Weaver is sworn into your service complete with the whole ceremonial nonsense.

You rise and come forward, standing just a few steps above him on the throne platform. He hands you his sword and kneels before you. Without the help of any prompting, you lead him through the oath phrase by phrase and at last you tap either of his shoulders with the flat of the blade. To seal it all, you extend your hand with your signet ring.

“Thank you, my lady”, he takes your hand softly and kisses your knuckle, “I am yours”

He rises and accepts back his blade while you return to your throne. Your father makes arrangements for a whole new suit of armor to be commissioned for your knight, after all, his safety is your safety, and so forth. But for once, you don’t mind the droning on of court business.

It gives you some time to hide your blush.

#call of duty #black ops cold war #grigori weaver x reader

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ephemeralstark · 4 years

Text

An Intern’s Ordeal

Summary: Peter gets invited to the Annual Stark Charity Gala, only he thinks he's attending as an intern and panics because he doesn't even know how to make coffee so how can he manage an actual event. Throw in a stab wound, some fractured ribs, a healthy dose of self-deprecation and a case of mistaken identity, and Tony realises that Peter really doesn't understand how much he means to him.

Rated T | Irondad | Completed | 10k

AN: i hope you all enjoy, i’ll add the link to read on ao3 in a reblog if you guys prefer that!! tw for injuries and blood, stay safe my lovelies and the tag list is at the end!

“You know,” Peter commented idly as he set down the wrench Mr. Stark had handed him on the table, “when you said you wanted me to come over and help out in the workshop, this wasn't exactly what I thought you’d have planned.”

“No?” Mr. Stark wondered as he held out a hand for the weird caps Peter was still tightly gripping after being warned not to lose them, “what did you think we were going to do?”

“I don’t know, really,” Peter shrugged dismissively, “but I kinda thought it would be something to do with Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man?” Mr. Stark spoke as though he had forgotten who Spider-Man was, as though he wasn't sitting in the same room as him, before cursing slightly under his breath and dropping one of the caps.

“Yeah, you know? The red and blue guy who swings over the city on webs that he made himself because he’s so totally cool and smart.”

“I know who Spider-Man is, kid,” Mr. Stark said rolling his eyes at Peter, “can you grab that wrench again? Then get down here, it’s your turn to do a bit of work.”

“Well, I’m just saying you sounded a bit confused,” Peter said as he jumped off his stool and crouched by the engine on the floor, the smell of motor oil and grease making his head spin a little, he blamed his enhanced sense of smell for that as he other man didn't seem to be affected by it.

“Not about Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark corrected him, before frowning and giving Peter a serious look, “Pete, do you think I only keep you around because of your abilities?”

“Uh,” Peter faltered, unable to find the words to explain how he did think that but not in a way that made Mr. Stark seem like a bad guy, just in a way that proved Peter wasn't any more special than the next intern who passed through the halls of Stark Industries.

A look of understanding seemed to cross Mr. Stark’s face and before Peter could even open his mouth he continued to speak, “hey, actually, how would you feel about coming to this charity Gala on Saturday?”

“Wh- wait, what?”

That… had been the last thing Peter expected Mr. Stark to say, why would he invite him to a Gala? Didn't he realise that Peter was probably the last person in the world who should be invited to a fancy event - in fact, he wasn't entirely sure he owned a suit, would that be an issue? Maybe he could borrow that one of Ben’s he wore to Homecoming.

“Charity Gala,” Mr. Stark repeated, “it's a big event with suits, ties, dresses, and champagne; lots and lots of champagne, not that you’re allowed to drink that, but as Stark Industries is the organiser of the even then I can make sure we have plenty of soda. So, what’s your favourite: Coke, Pepsi, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Fanta…”

“Uh, I don't- I don't know,” Peter stammered, “just whatever you want is fine with me.”

“Come on, Kiddo, I want to make this enjoyable for my favourite intern, so what’s your drink of choice?”

“Uh, Dr Pepper, maybe?” Peter said unsurely.

“You got it,” Mr. Stark said, “now come on, get your head in the game, we need to rebuild this engine.”

“Why are we doing this?” Peter wondered, still feeling slightly confused by the conversation that had just occurred, he felt like there was a deeper meaning to it.

“By the time I was your age, I’d lost count of the number of engines I’d rebuilt, this is a young genius’ rite of passage.”

I’m not a genius, Peter thought to himself but instead of voicing the thought aloud, he focused his attention on the task at hand. Or, he tried to, at least, the truth was that he was slightly caught up on Mr. Stark’s comment about wanting his favourite intern at the Charity Gala.

Was that his way of saying that he wasn't keeping Peter around because of his Spider-Man abilities, but rather because of his status as a Stark Industries intern? But that couldn't be right, Peter wasn't even a good intern - he usually just fiddled around in the workshop and tried to improve his Spider-Man equipment before attempting to eat Mr. Stark out of house and home. So, why wouldn't he take a better intern to the Gala? And what exactly would be expected of Peter on Saturday?

“Kid?” Mr. Stark poked Peter’s arm making him jump in shock and his head snapped to the side to see his mentor staring at him with a slightly concerned expression, “you good? You’re off in your own world tonight, I’m starting to get a little worried and you know me; I don’t like to be worried, I like to be blase in most situations.”

“I’m yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” Peter lied, “I was just thinking about this US History project I’ve got to hand in soon.”

“History?” Mr. Stark muttered, screwing up his nose in disgust, “you go to a STEM school, right? Shouldn't they be focusing on the sciences more than history?”

“Well, you know how it is,” Peter muttered with a shrug, “those who are ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it, and I suppose they have to give us a rounded education.”

Mr. Stark cast him a dubious glance, “you sure that’s the saying, Bud?”

“Well, it’s close, I think,” Peter mumbled, “anyways, I like history, I don't think it’s something I’ll pursue as a career but the class is interesting enough.”

“A career?” Mr. Stark asked jerking back in shock, “in history?”

“Not for me,” Peter repeated, “I don’t know, I’ll probably go into research or scientific development or something, I haven't thought about it in too much detail, to be honest.”

“You haven't- Kid, what? You should absolutely be thinking about this,” Mr. Stark said, “I know I’ve mentioned this before but I do have some pull at MIT. In fact, I have some pull at almost every college out there, you name it and I could probably get you in. What can I say? People love me.”

“I just don't want to make a life-changing decision at fifteen,” Peter muttered, “I know I’m going to have to soon, but do you know how much people change and grow? I asked May and she said she’s nothing like the person she was as a teenager, so if that’s going to be the same for me, how do I know that I’ll choose the right career at this point in my life, I’d rather take the time and make that decision.”

“Alright,” Mr. Stark said, “as much as I’d love to put you through college and have you working full time at Stark Industries, I can understand why you feel that way and it’s quite a mature observation - even though I hate it.”

“You’d want me working here?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

“Of course, you’re my favourite intern after all,” Mr. Stark said with what Peter was sure was meant to be a teasing grin, but all he could think about was the swooping in his stomach as those words were repeated. ‘Favorite intern’ was that Mr. Stark’s way of saying he was going to have to act like an intern at the Charity Gala?

He instantly began to feel nauseous, Mr. Stark was dropping hints about the intern thing which meant that he was absolutely expecting Peter to be on the ball at the Gala and he was only used to messing around in the lab. In fact, Peter was fairly sure that he’d never done anything intern-like; Mr. Stark had once asked Peter to turn on the coffee machine and Peter had merely shrugged, shoved a handful of sour patch kids in his mouth, and admitted that he had no idea how to make coffee.

So really, Peter had never done an intern’s job, he was going into this completely blind.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark prompted, “are you alright? Was that too much?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said quickly, as he lurched to his feet, “I just really gotta go and… work on that project.”

Peter stumbled over the toolbox on the floor, a testament to his distraction as his Spidey-Sense would have usually warned him of such obstructions, and grabbed his backpack off the ground.

“Peter, wait-”

But Peter didn't wait, or even hang around outside the door to the workshop to listen to the end of Mr. Stark’s sentence, he ran. Like a coward, his mind supplied.

He wasn't a coward, he was just… scared that Mr. Stark was going to expect more of him than he was able to give, he didn't know how to be an intern, so really, was it any surprise that no one at school believed him? Ned probably would have eventually lost his trust in Peter after a while if it wasn't for the discovery that he was Spider-Man.

Peter made his way upwards to the roof, instead of towards the main exit, slipping his web-shooters on over his wrists in preparation to swing home.

“Peter, Boss has requested that I ask you to stay, at least for ten minutes,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, which of course shouldn't have been a surprise considering she was everywhere in the building - except the bathrooms.

“I can’t,” Peter said, guilt gnawing at his stomach as he spoke, “tell him that I’m sorry for rushing out, and it wasn't anything he said-” that was a lie but Mr. Stark didn't need to feel guilty about expecting Peter to do his job “-and maybe just say I’ll see him on Saturday, although if wants to he could text me the details?”

“I’ll pass that along,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said gently, or as gently as a robotic voice could sound, “take care Peter, don't forget your mask and swing safely.”

“Thanks, F.R.I.,” he mumbled as the doors to the roof slid open and Peter breathed in the cool NYC evening air.

Taking note of her advice, he pulled his Spider-Man mask out of his backpack and pulled it over his head, he didn't bother changing fully into his suit, he was only going home - he had no plans to stop and fight any crimes.

“Good evening, Peter, I heard from F.R.I.D.A.Y. that you were distressed, how are you now?” Karen greeted him instantly.

“Of course you did,” Peter muttered, “I’m fine, don't worry, but can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but of course I am your A.I. system therefore you can ask me as many questions as you’d like,” Karen told him.

“Alright,” Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes behind the mask as he wondered whether she had been programmed to respond with that whenever he asked if he could ask a question, “uh, so theoretically if I asked you some questions would you have to tell Mr. Stark what I asked you?”

“No, he only has override codes in case of an emergency, but I was designed to be yours alone and that must come with some degree of trust.”

“Right,” Peter said, trying to process her words as he launched himself off the side of Stark Tower and felt the cold wind make his clothes flap in the breeze, his stomach swooped with the familiar, intoxicating fear of falling and he felt himself immediately perk up with the adrenaline rush.

He waited until he could make out the shocked expressions of the people on the street before he shot a web, feeling the familiar tug on his arms as his fall was broken and he swung in an upwards arc - it felt like he was on a rollercoaster and he couldn't deny that he loved every moment of it.

He had almost lost himself in the comforting thwips of web-slinging and the soothing breeze when Karen spoke up once more and reminded him of his concerns.

“Did you want to ask me anything else?” she prompted.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled, “what would an intern typically wear to a Stark Industries Charity Gala?”

“Mr. Stark doesn't typically take interns to his Galas,” Karen informed him, “however, I know that you’re asking this because you were invited this Saturday, therefore why don't you just wear formal attire.”

“How did you know that?” Peter asked in a moment of paranoia.

“I am connected to Tony Stark’s personal server which is the same server as F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she has the finalised guest list for the Gala which includes your name.”

“Is there anything else there about me?” Peter wondered, “besides my name, that is?”

“Unlimited access.”

“Unlimited because I’m an intern, right?” Peter asked, “I have to be able to do what Mr. Stark needs during the Gala?”

“I don't follow your line of questioning,” Karen said.

“Yeah, no,” Peter mumbled, “I didn't really follow that either. How about this: what does an intern typically do?”

“I need more context,” Karen said, “the job role of an intern depends on who they intern for.”

“Alright, what does an S.I. intern do?” Peter corrected.

“In which department?”

“Mr. Stark’s personal intern, what would be expected of that person?”

“The only person to ever fill that role is yourself, therefore I’m afraid that’s only a question you can answer as it was never an official post therefore I can’t source any information from a job application.”

“So,” Peter said slowly as he swung, “you’re telling me that only I know the answer to the thing I don't know?”

“Exactly.”

“Great,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head to himself.

So basically he was the only person who had ever interned for Mr. Stark, which made sense, after all, Mr. Stark had always had Miss. Potts with him, she had been his assistant before she had taken over everything, therefore why would he need interns? If anything, Miss. Potts was probably the one who had interns, so what if Peter asked her?

No.

That wouldn't work, she and him hadn't seen each other a ton and if he went up to her and started asking weird questions she would either assume that he was looking for money or she’d grow suspicious and tell Mr. Stark about him questioning her.

So, he was essentially lost. There didn't seem to be any clear answer about how to be a good intern for Mr. Stark or what would be expected of him on Saturday. To be fair he should have expected this to be harder than expected, his mentor wasn't one to play by the rules and why should this situation be any different?

“Are you alright?” Karen asked, “you’re acting strange tonight, your behaviour is sparking concern.”

“I’m fine,” Peter lied, “just worried about this project thing I have to prepare for school next week.”

“You know, I am connected to a great deal of information, if you need help with a project, you can always ask me,” Karen reminded him.

“Yeah, K, I know,” Peter murmured, “I just need to think, alright? I’m fine, I just need some time to myself.”

“Noted.”

And with that, she fell silent, finally, and Peter was left to his thoughts and worries. Which he had absolutely planned to do, except a piercing scream breaking through the night distracted him from himself.

“No, no, please, my husband’s medication is in that bag!” A woman shouted, sounding panicked, “please, no, he has seizures and if you take his meds he will be in danger and my money is in there too, I can’t buy more pills.”

Peter immediately changed his trajectory, so much for not getting involved in anything, I probably should have put the whole Spidey-Suit on, he thought to himself as his hearing honed in on the desperate sobs coming from an alleyway.

The scene that met Peter in the alleyway made his blood boil and he felt himself gritting his teeth without meaning to; a lady who looked to be in her late seventies was clutching at her handbag as though her life depended on it, although judging by what Peter had previously heard, her husband’s did. The thief was tugging sharply and slashing the air between them with a sharp blade, he didn't seem to be trying to stab her, but he wasn't exactly being careful.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, successfully distracting the thief who seemed to jump out of his skin and let go of the lady’s handbag on impulse.

“Spidey?” the man asked, looking over Peter’s clothes with a confused frown which reminded Peter that he was wearing an incredibly dorky science T-Shirt with an amazing science pun on it, he would probably have to bin the shirt now, or at the very least retire it for a year or so.

“Stealing a lady’s handbag?” Peter asked, not needing to put much effort into proving that he was disappointed in the guy, “really man? That’s low, especially when she’s told you her husband’s very important medications are in there.”

“No one asked you, beat it!”

“I can’t do that,” Peter said, “I’m going to have to insist that you walk away, maybe if you go in the opposite direction I won’t knock you out and call the police.”

Alright, so maybe that was a lie and Peter was planning to web the guy up and call the cops no matter what he decided.

“Oh, fuck off,” the man muttered.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, “language!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the thief snapped, forgetting about the lady and her handbag in order to focus his attention on Peter.

He made a quick hand motion to the lady to run, and thankfully she didn't need to be told twice as she instantly broke into a hasty trot away, her heels clicking on the concrete but the thief didn't seem to care, his attention was solely on Peter and the blade in his hands was no longer being held loosely, now it was poised to attack.

“Woah, dude!” Peter muttered, holding his hands up as he backed off a few steps, “I take it back, you can use whatever language you want.”

“Why couldn't you just keep swinging?” the man asked as he took a couple of calculated steps forward, “I had this all under control, why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to get involved?”

“You were stealing that lady’s handbag,” Peter said, “and her husband’s medication, there’s nothing about that situation that is controlled.”

“It was for me, alright?” the man screamed.

Uh oh, Peter thought, from experience he had realised that when people were overly emotional, they became unpredictable. This man was armed and seemed desperate.

That was something that Peter occasionally struggled with; he was out almost every night as Spider-Man and often he stopped people who weren't truly bad but they were just in a difficult situation. Did that make him a bad person? Some of those ‘criminals’ were potentially only trying to scrounge money to feed their families.

He couldn't think like that though because if he started excusing some people’s bad actions and condemning others’, where did he draw the line? Spider-Man was the person who looked out for the little guy, he stopped crime, he didn't take statements and decide who was guilty or whose actions were justified. If someone did something wrong then he would stop them and that was that.

“Look, I get you think you have your reasons for this, but it's wrong,” Peter said, “why don't you put the knife away, and maybe we can sort this out without anyone getting hurt?”

“You-” the man broke off, seemingly too angry to form a coherent sentence, instead he lunged forward, knife in hand.

Peter hadn't been expecting that reaction, he had hoped the man would have been willing to compromise. In a desperate attempt to avoid being impaled on the guy’s blade, Peter forced himself through the air and he hit the ground with a thud, feeling as though something in the side of his chest had cracked.

“Ouch,” Peter muttered, trying to ignore the whine he could hear in his own voice, he was meant to be the tough hero who fended for those who couldn't fend for themselves, “hey, man, that was seriously not cool.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

The man lunged at him again, still holding the knife, and Peter skittered backward like a crab until his back came up against a hard, metal surface: oh, the dumpster. He desperately needed to get back up on his feet, he was at a serious disadvantage.

His Spidey-Sense thrummed in alarm and he whirled around just in time to see the moonlight glint off the blade that was flying towards his face - this guy was aiming to kill! In a last-minute, desperate attempt, he pushed himself downwards so that the guy stabbed into the dumpster instead of Peter’s face, the blade cutting through the metal as though it were butter.

“Dude, what the hell?” Peter gasped out from his place, flat on his back on the damp alleyway ground.

“Stop moving,” the man grunted as he swung again.

“What?” Peter asked, “no!”

Why would he do the one thing that would mean certain death? Sure, he put on a spandex suit on a nightly basis and swung around the city at dizzying heights, but he didn't have a death wish. Besides, his suit had a certain degree of shock absorption ability, and it was cut-proof, which didn't always prevent Peter from getting hurt, but it definitely took away the brunt of his injuries.

Except he wasn't wearing his suit currently…

He was very much just Peter Parker in a mask, although he did have his web-shooters. His web-shooters! Just as the guy lifted the blade, with two hands, looking as though he was ready to perform a sacrifice, Peter shot a web upwards and pulled himself out from certain death.

As he flew upwards he felt the man strike one last time, and in his desperation, he succeeded. Pain radiated through Peter as the blade embedded in his thigh and was dragged downwards as Peter’s body moved up.

“Ah!” Peter called out in agony, the man below in the alley laughed in victory.

“Got the little bastard!” The man cheered as he started to run.

Peter wanted to chase after him, web him up and make sure that he would never hurt another person ever, but he was smart enough to know that with the current state of his leg, he wasn't going to be chasing anyone.

“Karen? You there?” Peter asked, despite knowing that she never went anywhere.

“I’m here,” she confirmed, “I know you needed time to think, but I would seriously recommend seeking medical attention, you have a large laceration down your right thigh.”

“I’m aware,” Peter said dryly, or tried to, his humour was shadowed by the pain that was coursing through him.

“I can contact Mr. Stark if you would like?” she offered, and normally Peter would have said yes, he would have felt relief at the thought of his mentor coming to pick him up from the cold rooftop and taking him back to the tower where he would receive decent pain relief and have his wound cared for immediately.

But, he couldn't say yes, because he had run out in such a strange way that the next time he saw Mr. Stark the man would undoubtedly have more questions than Peter was ready to answer.

“No,” he said slowly, “but thanks, Karen, actually though… could you just alert the police to that guy, I don't care what you tell them, just make sure he can't hurt anyone else, please?”

“Consider it done,” she said.

Peter let out a breath of relief that he hadn't even realised he’d been holding. It was going to be alright, the cops would pick up the guy before he hurt anyone else, that lady would probably be at home with her husband by now and he could go home and patch himself up before he started to research further into interning at a fancy Gala.

Or, that had been the plan.

By the time he made it home, the sun was beginning to reappear in the sky and he could hear the sounds of the city waking up for another day.

It's a good thing May was on the nightshift, Peter thought to himself as his apartment block finally came into view.

His jeans were no longer blue, but rather a strange brownish red with the effect of a mixture of dried and still flowing blood. His blood. It wasn't often he ended up covered in his own blood, but these things happened he supposed.

Taking advantage of the last hour or so of dim light, he carefully crawled up the side of the building, doing his best to make sure there wasn't a blood trail leading up to his window - he wouldn't be able to explain that one away easily.

“You have a text from Mr. Stark,” Karen informed him.

“Oh…” Peter mumbled and he painfully crawled through his bedroom window and let his body fall to the carpet with a thump, “what does it say?”

“One message from Tony Stark, sent two minutes ago: hey Kiddo! I’m not really sure what happened back there, maybe I overstepped by bringing up colleges and working with me, or maybe you’re more interested in Oscorp - although I don't know why didn't you hear about their animal experimentation scandal? Probably not a good time for jokes, but let me know you’re alright, ok? I saw that Karen has been active all night, so try and get some sleep and just know that I’m not mad at all… I’m just a little confused, but there's no pressure here for you to explain what was up. “

“Do you think I upset him?” Peter asked his A.I. carefully as he lay on his bedroom floor, probably creating a mess of blood that he would be forced to scrub at later.

“I like to think he was honest in the message, I believe he is just confused.”

“It’s stupid,” Peter mumbled, “like, I shouldn't have freaked out, it was so dumb of me.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Karen offered.

“Uh, maybe?” Peter said, “I could keep the mask on while I clean this leg up.”

“Sounds good,” and if Peter wasn't mistaken, her voice sounded gentle and reassuring, he was lucky that she was a computer program and didn't tire of him, or need to sleep.

So, Peter carefully pulled himself back to his feet, crying out in agony as soon as he put weight on his bad leg. If the thought of trying to stand once more didn't fill him with dread, he would have crumbled instantly.

“Shit,” he muttered, he wasn't one for regularly cursing but all things considered he felt the situation called for it, and there was no one around to hear, except Karen.

He made his way slowly to the bathroom, dragging his leg rather than stepping to try and reduce the amount of muscle movement, not that it mattered, the blood still oozed out and the tearing sensation still made him feel nauseated.

“I’m going to have so much blood to clean up before May comes home,” Peter whined to Karen as he pushed open the bathroom door, leaving a red smear behind.

“Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark for you? He can hire a cleaning company,” Karen offered.

“A… cleaning company?” Peter asked, feeling ill at the thought, and not just from the pain he was in, “no, no that’s fine, thanks though.”

He and May weren't poor per se, but they didn't often have an abundance of money to spare, and the thought of paying someone to come and clean their little apartment, when that money could have been used for gas or food, made Peter feel ill. He already caused their food bill to skyrocket thanks to his enhanced metabolism.

Peter sat down heavily on the side of the bathtub, letting the bright lights hurt his eyes momentarily.

“Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“I didn't run out on Mr. Stark because I was upset that he had brought up college or offered me a position at Stark Industries,” Peter admitted, “I mean, it was a bit of a shock, and I know I’m going to have to decide what I want to do with my life soon enough because I can’t live in limbo until I know for sure, but yeah, working with Mr. Stark is the dream.”

“So why did you leave?” Karen asked.

“He asked me to go to the Charity Gala,” Peter said.

“That’s a bad thing?”

“No, no, no, not for a normal intern,” Peter admitted, “but for me, yeah, I’ve never actually done anything intern-y in my life, I don't even know how to make coffee because I don't drink it and that one time I tried to make it for May she made me promise to never put her through that again.”

“So?”

“So interns get coffee,” Peter said as he inched out of his jeans, the dried blood creating a kind of glue between the fabric and his skin.

“You have never gotten coffee,” Karen informed him as though that wasn't partially what he was freaking out about.

“Exactly,” Peter muttered, gently easing his clothing off was causing him too much pain, so he tore the jeans away from the wound in a sharp motion that made stars blink in and out of existence in his line of vision as darkness threatened at the edges.

He didn't remember slipping off the side of the tub, but just as he thought he was going to lose the fight to stay awake, the fuzziness disappeared from his vision and he was blinking tiredly on the bathroom floor with his leg oozing fresh blood.

“Peter? Peter!”

“Ugh,” he groaned, “s’ok, ‘m fine.”

“I really think it’s about time we sought more professional help,” Karen suggested.

“No, no, it’s all good,” Peter said as he started to feel less dizzy from the agony, “besides, I was telling you stuff, remember?”

“Indeed, would you like to continue?”

“Yeah, uh, so, the coffee thing,” Peter mumbled as he gently nudged his jeans off properly, trying to avoid looking too closely at the blood on his leg as he did so, “well, it’s just that I’ve never done one of the most simple things an intern does, and Mr. Stark was dropping hints about me being an intern, so obviously I need to fill that role at the Charity Gala, but how can I when I don't know what’s expected of me?”

“Maybe you’re meant to just go and have a good time?” Karen suggested.

“No, no it’s not that,” Peter was sure, “he mentioned interning a few times, it was very clear that he’s wanting me to step up and actually fill that role.”

“Why don't you ask him?”

“What? No way!” Peter said quickly, “I absolutely can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn't get it,” Peter muttered and ripped the mask off in one smooth action, feeling slightly guilty about cutting off his closest confidant so ruthlessly.

He tried to ignore the turmoil in his mind and instead focused his attention on the gash on his leg. He carefully pulled himself back up onto the side of the tub and swung around so that he could clean the wound off in the bath. He used the showerhead and rinsed it on the gentlest pressure setting, rubbing at the skin around the laceration to clear it of the dried and congealing blood.

“What the-”

For some reason he had expected a long swipe, maybe from upper thigh to his knee, he had not expected the sight he was met with. The wound was the length of his pointer finger, and it was wide. It was almost like someone had cut an oval into his flesh rather than swiping him with a knife.

It needed stitches.

It probably needed a professional, but Peter was an amateur with a complex against disturbing others and a strong need to avoid Mr. Stark until the Gala, so he was going to have to deal with it himself. How much blood had he lost? How long did he have until this wound became life-threatening? He needed to get his shit together and sort it out.

Once he had finished rinsing the laceration, he wrapped one of May’s nice yellow towels around it tightly, to try and stem the flow of the blood - a large part of him felt guilty, he was going to have to throw it away and listen to her confused rambles as she wondered what had happened to it.

“Come on, Peter,” he muttered to himself, “you can do this.”

He forced himself to stand, ignoring how that simple, painful movement made a sudden red appear on the otherwise pristine towel.

“Gotta close it up,” he muttered as he opened the mirrored cabinet and began to rake through for the first aid kit he knew was hidden in there, various things fell as he searched and clattered into the sink making him glad that he was home alone.

When he opened the first aid kit, he rummaged until he found the thing he had been looking for; a pack of Steri-Strips. He opened them and read through the information leaflet.

Only use on shallow, clean, uninfected wounds. Do not use where bleeding is unmanageable or significant. Do not use on hairy, oily areas, joints, the face. Seek medical attention if the wound was a human or animal bite.

Well, that was a lot of situations in which they were unsuitable and Peter was fairly sure his wound wasn't shallow and he would have said the bleeding was erring on the unmanageable side, but what else could he do? He didn't have any other option, he would have to try.

So he did, he carefully unwound the towel and looked at the nauseating wound on his thigh. He needed to align the edges and hold them in place with the Steri-Strips. It sounded simple… but it was going to hurt. Gritting his teeth, he started to get to work. Small whimpers and whines of pain would escape every now and then as he struggled not to lose himself to the lightheaded feeling that kept coming with the pain.

The Steri-Strips didn't work as well as Peter had hoped, the edges of the wound weren't exactly lining up and there were parts of the sticky side that were attached to the open part of the wound, which he was sure wasn't meant to happen. But, it was an improvement, and that was all he could ask for.

He stuck one of the sterile dressings over the top and used the first aid scissors to cut a strip off the towel - he was going to bin it anyways - which he then tied tightly around the affected area to create enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Now to clean up,” he muttered with a slightly delirious laugh that he was putting down to the blood loss.

Sitting there, with his leg wound cared for - to his best ability - and his throbbing ribs, Peter realised just how tired he was. He still needed to clean up the mess he’d created and research what Mr. Stark would be expecting of him at the Gala.

He pulled on his mask tiredly, “Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, what can I do for you?”

“Can you text Mr. Stark for me and say: sorry for running off like that, don't worry I’ll be at the Gala tomorrow, and I’ll be fully prepared.”

“Message sent.”

“Thanks, Karen,” Peter said and laid his head back, fighting the urge to fall into a deep, comforting sleep. He still had so much to do…

----

By the time Saturday evening arrived, Peter was so nervous he was almost crawling about on the ceiling.

“Oh, Honey, relax would you,” May said with a fond eye roll as she rewatched the tie tutorial that she’d saved after they’d both been mystified by the snakelike fabric on the night of Homecoming.

“Relax?” Peter asked, his voice a few octaves too high, “May, I can’t just relax, this is the Stark Charity Gala and I am a Stark Intern.”

“So?” May asked, motioning for him to come closer so she could do up the tie after her third run through of the video.

“So, I need to be the best intern that has ever been to one of these things, if it gets out that I’m Mr. Stark’s personal intern and I don’t do a good enough job, then my actions will impact negatively on Mr. Stark and I can’t have that!”

“You need to calm down, Pete,” May said with a laugh, “you’re getting too in your head about this, why don't you just try to have a good time? And maybe go fix your hair.”

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled running a hand through his curls, “hair. I can do that.”

“Just don't use as much gel as you did last time, alright?” May said, “the curls suit you, the greasy look does not.”

“Oh ha ha,” Peter mumbled as he made his way out of the living room, pain echoing in every step, but May couldn't know.

She couldn't know about the thirty dressings he had gone through in the last two days as his leg refused to heal properly, despite his normally impressive healing abilities. She couldn't know about the weird yellowish-green discharge that was escaping constantly or the strange smell he had begun to notice. She couldn't even know about the smattering of dark bruises that spanned across half his ribs and made breathing difficult.

“Don’t take too long, Peter,” May called after him, “Happy will be here soon and I want to take some pictures of you before you leave.”

Peter looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his ghostly pallor and the bags beneath his eyes, how had he avoided causing May suspicion? He looked terrible, or maybe that was his enhanced sight picking up on things normal people couldn't see.

He coated his fingers in a light amount of gel and ran them through his hair, enough to style it but not so much that it looked greasy, as May would say.

“Alright, I’m ready!” Peter declared, walking back into the room to be met with the flash of a camera, “woah! May!”

“You look so cute!” she said in response.

“I am not cute!” Peter insisted, “I- I’m- I am the most-”

“Face it, you’re the cutest,” May said pinching his cheeks gently, before pulling him into a hug that squeezed his ribs painfully, “alright, now, have a good night, alright?”

“You sure you don't want to come?” Peter asked.

“Oh no,” May said with a laugh, “I have a bottle of red and a handful of romcoms with my name on them.”

“Alright,” Peter said, “have a good night.”

“You too, and if you’re staying at the tower, send me a text, ok?” May asked, “I don't want to spend the night worrying about where you are.”

“You got it!” Peter said with false cheer, he doubted that Mr. Stark would want him to stay over, especially as he hadn't replied to the man since that message while he’d been cleaning his wound up.

Peter made his way downstairs to see the familiar sleek black car parked by the curb, without hesitating he wandered over to the back door and slipped inside.

“Hey, Happy!”

Happy grunted in greeting and fixed Peter with a piercing stare through the rearview mirror.

“Is uh, is everything ok?” Peter wondered nervously.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Happy said, “Tony says you’ve been avoiding his messages.”

“My phone died,” Peter lied.

“You couldn't charge it?”

“My charger is broken.”

“You couldn't get a new one?”

“We’re not all billionaires,” Peter mumbled.

“You could have asked Tony, he would have replaced it in a heartbeat.”

“How?” Peter asked, “my phone was dead.”

“Alright, fine, keep your secrets,” Happy grumbled, “just… be careful alright, Kid? Tony is really worried about you and I thought he was maybe overreacting because I know how he can be sometimes, but now I’m beginning to think something might be wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Happy asked, ignoring Peter’s lie.

“Uh actually, can we go to a Drive-Thru Starbucks on the way?”

“You… want coffee?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled.

“Alright, sure,” Happy said, “the first time you’ve actually asked for something so I’m not going to say no.”

Was it really?

The server manning the Drive-Thru window looked very confused when Happy pulled up and requested an Americano and a Hot Chocolate, Peter could see her glancing between the two of them, obviously wondering who Peter was and why he was being chauffeured around.

Maybe she would make up a story for her friends to laugh about, or maybe she was tired and nearing the end of her shift and didn't really care. Either way, Peter slunk back into the seat and looked the other way until Happy handed him the two drinks he had requested.

“So, what’s with the drinks Kid?” Happy asked.

“I don't know how to make coffee,” Peter admitted as though that was an appropriate answer.

“Alright,” Happy said and he sighed deeply, “do you… do you normally drink coffee?”

“What? No, this stuff could kill me,” Peter said, “ever since becoming Spider-Man, I have bad reactions to caffeine.”

“Bad reactions?” Happy asked, his eyes narrowing at Peter through the mirror.

“Oh yeah, you know; palpitations, heart arrhythmias, rashes, jitters, headaches, projectile vomiting, occasional hallucinations, collapsing episodes, cra-”

“So it’s bad?” Happy interrupted.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Peter agreed.

“So…” Happy trailed off, looking seconds away from pulling over so that he could tear the coffee from Peter’s hands and throw it, “why exactly did we get you a coffee?”

“Oh, this isn't for me.”

“Peter, Kid, come on, you’ve got to give a little here,” Happy muttered, “why did we get a coffee if it’s not for you and you can't even drink the damn stuff?”

“It’s for Mr. Stark,” Peter said as though that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

“And pray tell, why are you getting a coffee for Mr. Stark before the Charity Gala?”

“Because I’m an intern.”

“Of course,” Happy muttered, looking about ready to drive them off the bridge they were currently crossing, “why did I even need to ask?”

The divider slowly raised between them as Happy muttered his statements of disbelief under his breath.

-----

“There he is!” Mr. Stark said cheerfully as Peter walked into the room, Americano in hand, “I was starting to worry you wouldn't show up.”

“I promised I would,” Peter said, despite Mr. Stark’s words he could see the worry in the older man’s eyes, “oh uh, here, I brought you coffee.”

“Coffee?” Mr. Stark asked, taking the drink from Peter and looking at it in confusion, “you brought me a coffee?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “I hope it’s alright.”

The worry only seemed to intensify rather than lessening, was Mr. Stark that concerned about Peter messing up in public? If so, why should he invite him?

“Thanks, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, taking a polite sip from the cup, “anyway, why don't I introduce you to some people.”

“Sounds good, but maybe I could go to the toilet first?” Peter asked, “it was a long drive and I may have had a hot chocolate.”

“Great, a sugar hyped kid,” Mr. Stark joked, “go on then, scram, you don't need my permission.”

Things seemed to be going smoothly enough until Peter walked out of the bathroom to find his Spidey-Sense thrumming away with a sense of urgency. Just as he started to look for the source of danger, a hand fisted into the fabric at the back of his neck and he was tugged to the side harshly.

“Where have you been?” a man asked angrily, “and what are you doing out here without even a tray of drinks?”

“I uh-”

“Shut up!” the man snapped, “I don't know who your daddy is or whose ass he had to kiss to get you this job but if you’re going to work tonight I need professionalism.”

“I’m not-”

“I said ‘shut up’!” the man shouted once more, giving Peter a little shake to further drive his demand home. Peter was surprised to find himself slightly afraid, and the shake had hurt his ribs and pushed a little too much pressure down his sore leg.

“Please, Sir,” Peter begged, “I’m not working.”

“Oh you absolutely are,” the man snapped, “you think you can sneak through here and meet Iron Man?”

“I didn't-”

“I have half a mind to kick you out into the gutter,” the man continued, “you are a disappointment to all of us in the service industry, you are meant to remain professional at all times, which doesn't mean fishing around for secrets and autographs.”

“I wasn't!”

“Liar!”

The man tightened his grip and started marching Peter forward as though he was a disobedient child.

“Sir, listen, please,” Peter pleaded, “Mr. Stark is waiting for me.”

The man froze, his grip tightening momentarily, and Peter’s Spidey-Sense blared louder.

“You disturbed Tony Stark?”

“No! No, no, no!” Peter insisted, “I came here with him, I’m his intern.”

“That’s a lie,” the man said, “Stark Industries never brings interns to these events, now come with me or I’m going to end up kicking you out on your ass and blacklisting you from ever working an event in New York ever again.”

“You can’t make me do anything,” Peter grumbled, trying to twist out of the man’s hold but being restricted by the pain in his leg and side, he wasn't going to be able to free himself, “you have to let me go?”

“Or what?” the man asked with a sneer in his voice, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Him? Probably nothing, he’s far too polite for his own good, but me? That’s another story entirely,” Peter felt the grip loosen in a second and he almost crashed to the floor from the relief of it, only for Happy to grab his elbow and stabilise him.

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter whispered, knowing the man would hear him.

“You’re Tony Stark’s security,” the man who had grabbed Peter stated with a dumb expression on his face.

“Yes, and you were manhandling one of the people I am here to protect,” Happy said seriously, Peter had often wondered how Happy - with his tendency to get overstressed and his annoyance at most living things - had become the Head of Security at Stark Industries, but now, looking at him confronting the man, he had no doubts that Happy deserved that title.

“I wasn't- manhandling?” the guy asked, “that’s a bit… harsh, wouldn't you say?”

“I call it as it is,” Happy said, “care to explain?”

“I thought the kid was one of my waiters.”

“Did you recognise him?” Happy asked.

“Well, no, but there are a lot of them, it’s difficult to know them all,” the man said.

“That’s dangerous,” Happy said, “it’s fortunate for you that I personally run background checks on everyone working this function, but if you’re not even able to recognise a stranger among your employees then I feel like you won’t have a future organising events for Stark Industries.”

“Wait, no, you can't do that!” the man insisted, “this is my biggest job of the year.”

“It’s a shame you care so little about it then, imagine not caring enough to learn your employees’ names?”

“It was a misunderstanding!”

“Peter, did you try to tell this man you weren't a waiter”? Happy asked patiently.

“I uh said that I’m an intern and that Mr. Stark was waiting for me,” Peter admitted, feeling a little guilty for the ashen look that came over the man’s face when he realised that Peter had been telling the truth, after all, how else would the head of security know Peter’s name?

“Mr. Stark is in fact waiting for you,” a familiar voice broke in, “and he’s not a patient man, what is going on here?”

The man now looked positively grey as he tried to look anywhere but at the confused and impatient billionaire before him, Peter however noticed the way Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed in on the crumpled fabric by Peter’s neck and the sheen of panicked sweat on his forehead.

His mentor looked questioningly at Happy, “well?”

“This is Bernard Kyting,” Happy said, and Peter was sure in that moment that Happy knew absolutely everyone in the room’s name and face, “he is the owner of the company that organised this Gala, he is also the man that just manhandled Peter and attempted to kidnap him.”

“Kidnapping? What no!”

“Uh, Happy, he wasn't going to kidnap me,” Peter said hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” Happy asked seriously, “because we should operate on the worst-case scenario and him trying to force you to go somewhere against your will without listening to you say you’re an intern and that Tony was waiting for you sounds bad to me.”

“It would probably sound bad to the police too,” Mr. Stark agreed thoughtfully.

“You’re not serious!” Bernard gasped.

“I’m deadly serious when it comes to Peter’s safety,” Mr. Stark said.

“Mr. Stark, I really don't think-”

“Hush Peter, we’re handling this,” Mr. Stark said, “actually, don’t hush, Happy will handle this and I am going to show you off to all the stuffy businessmen here, let’s make them all insecure as a twelve-year-old shows them up.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m fifteen,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly, now come on.”

Maybe it was the anxiety that had been festering in his stomach since he’d been invited to the Gala, or maybe it was the stress of almost being roped into working as a waiter for a high-end Gala, or maybe it was even the blood loss he’d recently suffered… maybe the reason didn't matter, because it was kind of irrelevant.

The important thing was that Peter suddenly found himself falling forward.

He felt hands grab at him to try and stop him from crashing against the ground, but they caught him exactly where his ribs were sore and Peter screamed and everything flashed a brilliant, agonising white before the darkness suddenly crept in.

------

When Peter woke up he was partially surprised that he had actually passed out and partially relieved that he had passed out. He had managed to completely avoid the stress of pretending to know how to act as an intern.

He tried to sit up, only to gasp and fall back against the pillows as his ribs announced their displeasure at the sudden movement, “oh,” he murmured under his breath as he tried to catch what little of it was left thanks to the pain.

“I wouldn't recommend that,” a smooth voice said from beside him, Peter turned his head to see Mr. Stark sitting there, looking over his tablet at him.

“Hey,” Peter mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

“You have three fractured ribs,” Mr. Stark informed him casually, “which wouldn't normally concern me too much because I get it, it kinda comes with the job, no matter how good you are, you usually end up a little banged up.”

Peter nodded solemnly, not wanting to speak up because he got the impression that Mr. Stark was nowhere near finished.

“However, imagine my surprise when I lift your unconscious body up off the floor and find myself with a patch of blood on my new grey suit,” Peter winced, yeah, there it was, “so of course, there’s complete pandemonium, we think there’s an assassin in the Gala, we lock the place down and organise S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medics to attend. The highest of all security is on alert and preparing to raid the building, only for us to find that you have a stab wound, that looks to be a few days old on your leg.”

“Oh, that,” Peter mumbled.

“Oh that, yes that,” Mr. Stark snapped, “what the hell were you thinking not telling me about that?”

“It happened after I left the other day,” Peter admitted, “and I thought I’d managed to deal with it myself.”

“You thought-” Mr. Stark broke off and sighed, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “do you realise how irresponsible that was?”

“It was fine,” Peter mumbled.

“Fine?” Mr. Stark questioned, his voice rising an octave from the shock of hearing such a thing.

“I have healing powers,” Peter said.

“Kid, you’re still human, you still need appropriate medical care and time to recuperate after getting hurt,” Mr. Stark said gently, “you’re not a machine, no one expects you to be able to keep going without looking after yourself.”

“I guess,” Peter whispered.

“And you had no idea what you were doing, did you?” Mr. Stark asked although it seemed like he already knew, “those Steri-Strips were totally inappropriate for that wound.”

“I know,” Peter said, looking down, “I just didn't have anything else.”

“You had your phone.”

Peter cast him a confused look, “my phone? They don't like blood or moisture that much.”

“To… call me,” Mr. Stark said slowly, looking at Peter with a strange mix of disappointment and amusement, “you’re a smart kid, but would you really think to put your phone on a bloody wound before using it to call me.”

“Uh, not usually,” Peter said, “but this kinda happened after I left yours the other day.”

“Ah,” Mr. Stark murmured, seemingly understanding something that Peter hadn't yet explained.

“What?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved by the older man’s sudden understanding.

“I freaked you out with all that talk of colleges and coming to work for Stark Industries,” Mr. Stark said quietly.

“What? No!” Peter almost shouted, jerking upright in the bed despite the pain in his ribs that threatened his ability to breathe, “Mr. Stark, that’s not at all what happened.”

“No?” Mr. Stark asked, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“No, of course not,” Peter mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I wasn't ready to think about that sort of thing, but it would be an honour to work for you in the future, but Mr. Stark, I realised that I’m a really bad intern.”

“What- Kid, no,” Mr. Stark said quickly.

“I am!” Peter argued, “I don’t know how to make coffee, I don't know how to sort paperwork, I don't know what else interns actually do! There’s no way you can say I’m good at it when I don't even understand my own job description. You invited me to the Charity Gala as your intern and I freaked out because I didn't want to embarrass you, I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Kid, I invited you to the Gala as you,” Mr. Stark said, “we both know the internship is a fake formality to keep your alter ego a secret and give you a boost in your college applications.”

“So, you’re not mad that I don't know how to make coffee?”

“I never was,” Mr. Stark said, “wait… is this why you brought me an Americano earlier?”

Peter nodded guiltily, “yeah…”

“Kid, you absolutely did not have to do that, although I must admit since I’m staying away from all the fun stuff now, it was rather nice to have,” Mr. Stark said, “I wanted you there so you could have a good time and so that I could brag about how amazing you are.”

Peter couldn't stop the warmth that spread over his cheeks and he ducked his head.

“I just didn't want to be a disappointment,” Peter mumbled.

“Kiddo, you could never,” Mr. Stark sounded as though he had never been more sure about anything, “I’m slightly upset that you didn't come to me about this wound, but I get that your teenage brain works in mysterious mystery ways.”

“I tried my best with it,” Peter mumbled.

“It’s infected.”

“I didn't say my best was good,” Peter continued, he pulled the blankets to the side to look at the wound on his leg only to find that the bloody, yellowing dressing he had last seen was gone and had been replaced by a bright white one with only a tiny amount od seepage. “You fixed it.”

“Well, my doctor did,” Mr. Stark corrected, “I called him in and we gave you some of Cap’s meds to keep you a little out of it while we cleaned it up and you’re now the proud owner of some stitches.”

“Oh cool,” Peter mumbled.

“Stitches are cool?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised brow, perhaps he was questioning Peter’s sanity.

“No, I got Captain America’s drugs!” Peter said with a smirk, “he always tells us not to do drugs in those PSAs so this is a wonderful twist of medicated irony.”

“Yeah, I think they’re still in your system a little,” Mr. Stark muttered, “so since you’re still a little dopey, I think now would be a good time to remind you that you have three fractured ribs and you’re not allowed to go out as Spider-Man until they’re fully mended.”

“Wait… what?” Peter protested, “why?”

“Swinging will put a strain on them and cause you pain meaning you could flinch and fall, or you could receive another blow and worsen the damage,” Mr. Stark said, “come on, Underoos, you were just bragging about your healing powers, it won’t be forever.”

“But…” Peter hesitated.

“But what?”

“If I can’t be Spider-Man will I still be allowed to come to the workshop?” Peter asked and he focused his attention on fiddling with the sheets rather than facing the look he knew Mr. Stark would cast towards him.

He wasn't ready for the ‘why would you come to the workshop if you’re not needing upgrades?’ response, the one that he knew in his head he was about to receive.

“Kid, what?” Mr. Stark responded instead, “look at me, Peter.”

Peter blinked back the tears that were building in his eyes, trying his best not to appear childish and weak before the man who had been his hero since he was a child.

“Pete, c’mon Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said gently, and Peter found himself unable to avoid him any longer, “I don’t know why you have this idea that I only care about Spider-Man, because you are always going to be my number one priority.”

“But-”

“Uh uh,” Mr. Stark cut him off, “no, you need to listen to this. I’m Tony Stark, do you really think I would have a fifteen-year-old kid running around my home if I didn't want him there? Do you think I’d be texting his Aunt and arranging transport for him when she’s at work? Would I have a ridiculous amount of food and sweet things in my kitchen? Would I brag about him to my colleagues and competitors?”

“But we spend so much time designing stuff for Spider-Man?”

“Because you are Spider-Man and no matter how much I wish you had a safer hobby, I know that you won’t quit helping people just to stop the greying of my hair and the wrinkles that are forming. So instead of sitting here panicking about you getting brutally killed, I help you develop things that will ensure your safety - which you then bypass by trying to teat that wound by yourself.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, how had he gotten it so wrong? “I’m sorry.”

“Kid, don't apologise,” Mr. stark said, “listen, I’m the one who’s sorry for making you think that I only cared about Spidey, I know I’m as Pepper would say “emotionally constipated” but I really do care about you and your dorky interests.”

Peter couldn't help but smile, “well, in that case, I’m sorry for freaking out about the intern thing, and for hiding my injuries from you.”

“Those are apologies I can accept,” Mr. Stark said with a smile, “although, I wouldn't be opposed to you turning up with coffee more, especially when we both know Happy’s the one paying for it, just… not Starbucks, ok? Try some smaller places, support local businesses and all that jazz.”

“MJ would love that you said that,” Peter mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, come on then,” Mr. Stark said, his knees cracking as he stood and stretched.

“Come on?” Peter repeated, “where are we going?”

“Someone has to explain all of this to your aunt and I’m not taking the blow on my own,” Mr.Stark said.

“You can’t throw me under the bus,” Peter protested, “I’m injured.”

“Yeah, and I will be too if you’re not there to soften the blow.”

Peter grumbled under his breath as he clambered out of the comfortable bed, May was going to be so pissed at him, in fact, he’d be lucky if he lived to see his Spidey-Suit ever again. Maybe he should write a will, did he had time for that?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Mr. Stark moving to his side to support his weight so that he didn't step too heavily on his sore leg.

“You don’t have to help me,” Peter said, “I’ve been walking on it since I hurt it.”

“Yeah and look how that ended up,” Mr. Stark muttered, “anyways, this is as much for me as it is for you. May won’t kill me if she thinks I’m holding you up.”

“You’re using me!” Peter protested.

“Now he gets it.”

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @clover-roseee @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty @ormbunkar @justme--emily @pookiethefrickinbunn @pillowspace @dumbofassbi @kiki44430

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#spider-man #Iron Man #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #mcu

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 9

MANY Thanks to @raspberrydreamclouds who designed this cover as a gift! ☝

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Lacey)

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: Dark themes, smut, fluff and angst. Unprotected sex, hints of stalking, violence, swearing, sexual mentions, slight gore, choking, death.

A/N: Okay, this chapter is long, it was hard to write, you guys may never speak to me again after this. So I’ll just post it now, and turn off my phone and hide beneath the blanket with excessive anxiety. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.💖

As always, comments and feedback are more than welcome 💖💕

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Lacey

~*~

Have you paid the ferryman?

~*~

The cool light of fluorescent doesn’t do the honeyed gold of her hair justice.

Doe eyes meet him, a striking green. Pure, like freshly-cut grass on a spring morning. The navy-coloured suit she wears counters the sunny shade of her slightly curly hair. She sports mid-length tassels, cut neatly just above her shoulders. She looks like she had it done this morning by the looks of it .

“Hartmann, Lacey.”

Sitting at his desk with a pen pressed to his lips, the CIA agent observes her while ignoring the small hand in front of him. A tall, fit man in his late 20’s, face clean-shaven, hair like pure chocolate, combed neatly to the side but for a large rogue curl that falls on his brow. He collects it between his fingers and attempts to tuck it back in place.

“I don’t do partners, sweetcheeks.” he retorts after a short glance and turns away from the young agent, returning to his computer to browse a file he was just reading before she interrupted him.

An amused sigh passes through her plump lips as she shakes her head with sheer disbelief. “Do you have it any more cliche than that?”

“I might, depending how long you are going to loom over there, princess.” August shoots back and slightly adjusts the tie around his shirt collar, not bothering to face the young woman again. It’s obvious what this is: a muzzler, or rather a babysitter in the form of a really good-looking girl.

He fights the temptation to take another gander at the way her hair frames the apples of her rosy cheeks.

“But since you’re already here, how about you fulfil your purpose in life and get me a cup of coffee? Double espresso, no sugar.”

August shoots her a look, observing her immediate reaction. Lacey’s green eyes widen, her mouth slightly opens. She rubs her knuckle between the soft pads of her fingers while thinking of what could be a suitable response to his disrespectful request.

I guess Erica didn’t bother prepping her.

Sloane, the heartless lioness. She leered at him with that sour look on her face since the day he stepped into the building. He swears the woman must have slices of lemons hidden in her panties. There is not even a drop of respect in those dark eyes whenever he sits in her office. Nor does she harbour any trust in his performance on the field.

It all just worsened thanks to Ukraine.

The explosion in the old Soviet power plant killed dozens of innocent lives at the cost of one. Though that man was responsible for the death of thousands, if not more.

If you want to tear down a building, you better use a fucking hammer.

That cunt should thank him and promote him.

“Nothing but daddy’s boy.” That’s what she sees in him. He might as well be another dead CIA agent like his father, then. Erased from memory, his great achievements discredited. At least he doesn’t have a family to throw to the dogs so they can rip them to shreds.

Oh Sloane, if only you knew half of the shit that goes beneath that stuck-up nose of yours.

Releasing another deep sigh, Lacey slumps to the seat in front of him, crossing her long legs together and leaning back in her chair while grabbing the folder on her desk. Her lips clamp together tightly, trying to hide the saltiness on her face. Long lashes curtain her eyes which pretend to read through the file. August rolls his eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore her existence and continue working his way through a case he’s been reading before she interrupted him.

Yet every now and then his storm-touched eyes peer at the naive-looking woman, observing her and trying to determine how long will she last.

~*~

Is this hell?

~*~

That dusting of freckles on her nose and the fresh shimmer in her eyes give out much softness, yet she is anything but weak. Lacey Hartmann is a shield-maiden of some sort. For 2 months she withstood August’s “boot camp,” meaning she appeared unaffected by his cold demeanour.

At times there is even a hint of a smile hiding beneath that peach shade lipstick when August challenges her with an obscene dark joke. A hint of amusement tints the green of her irises, but she never dares to admit it.

Too coy, almost chaste, yet iron-willed.

August finds her behaviour borderline masochistic as he continues to prize her with nothing but arctic affection. Even so, she always listens when he speaks, her eyes open with pure intent, a fertile green field in her glance.

Something spikes at the marrow of his bones, intrigue or so. Trivial thoughts find themselves latching into the tunnels of his complicated mind. His CIA brain begins to note her morning routine. A glacial stare registers the vanilla latte she drinks almost religiously every morning at 9, with two teaspoons of sugar. Lacey has a sweet tooth, it seems. She never misses dessert at the cantine and he once caught her bending the rules and sneaking candies back from their previous mission at eastern Europe.

He also noticed how when she is nervous, she twirls a finger in her hair with agitation and chews her plump lips.

Blue is another point of interest. The colour seems to be dominant in her attire and accessories for some cryptic reason, though. not obsessively. She wears black or grey but then ties a silk scarf the shade of the sky around her delicate throat. When she is having a bad hair day, it’s the red pencil suit that draws attention to her body instead. The combination is horrifying when she sits in front of him holding her favourite mug which is glittery cerulean.

He begins to wonder about her life outside of the headquarters. Her file rested in his apartment for weeks yet only recently he found himself bored enough to peek inside and read about her personal life. No husband is listed under her marital state, yet he wonders if a woman as attractive as Lacey has a man waiting for her at home. Someone kind, he imagines, and pitiful. She looks like a woman lacking a strong man in her life.

“Are you going to finish that?”

August’s brows furrow as she cuts into his adventurous trails of thought. His glassy eyes pierce at her as she sits in front of him at the cantine, sharing a lunch table. He hardly speaks during lunch anyway, and only listens to her musings with the usual sulk on his face.

Lacey appears slightly frightened when she sees his menacing expression, yet her fright melts into a soft blush and a coy grin, in an attempt to pacify him. He nudges the plate with a slice of chocolate cake in her direction.

“No, go ahead.” he watches as she digs her fork into it with excitement, her eyes shutting with near orgasmic pleasure as the chocolate melts on her tongue.

His mind continues to wander, offering him possible imaginary visions of her personal life while she mumbles something in the background about the cake being outrageous.

Her home address would be in that file too.

It’s nothing but idle curiosity, after all.

~*~

You don’t believe in hell.

~*~

It’s been over 6 months of enduring her by his side. August imagined she’d run off crying to Sloane 2 days after being forced into this partnership, but she keeps a vow of secrecy, even when he bends a guideline or two during missions or violates nearly every HR policy. At first, she would warn him about his behaviour, but now she just calls it “The Walker Way”.

It almost feels like he has a partner in crime.

They arrived in Sicily a night ago, their mission is to locate and capture a millionaire-turned-terrorist and bring him in for questioning. It’s a high profile target, which means the CIA spared no expense providing them with the finest hotel suites and fancy attire to attend a gallery opening. An informant suggested the suspect might be doing his bidding at the same mansion.

Lacey meets August at the hotel’s main parking lot, wearing a cornflower blue mermaid-cut gown. Threads of silver adorn the outlines of her cleavage and little pieces of sparkling glitter draw his attention to her bust. He doesn’t attempt to hide the way his eyes fixate on her breasts. Beaming at the pale pink fat of her bosom before his gaze finally wanders to meet her face, giving her his regular cocky stance.

Is she wearing a bra underneath?

“You look handsome,” Lacey compliments, swallowing a complaint about the obvious way he objectified her. “We look as if we’ve matched colours.” The royal blue three-piece suit brings out the ocean in his eyes and she allows herself to dwell in the calm water as she glances back, offering him a smile.

Stoic, he ignores her praises, studying her face quietly. The shade on her lips is not the usual one; it’s darker, making her look more vamping. He doesn’t like it, her natural appearance is sweet and supple, and this colour clashes with her complexion and the concept of her in his mind.

The unnerving silence between them greatly challenges her. The need to crack the autumn evening air with some sort of dialogue pans in her chest.

“Are you…” Lacey begins speaking when her eyes squint at the region of his mouth. “...growing a moustache?” Bold fingers reach up, ghosting over his upper lip where a few days’ stubble seems to grow longer than the rest on his jaw. August cocks his eyebrow as the tips of her fingers almost touch his mouth. She notices his disapproval and pulls her hand away apologetically.

“For the mission, I thought it might make me look older.”

An amused smile cracks on her face, her cheeks rounding up to perfect blushing circles. “The real Mrs. Walker would be mortified.”

August scoffs, rolling his eyes at the notion before turning away to watch the cars that pass by. His hand rests on his chest, straightening the vest underneath his suit and stretches the muscles of his back. A timid-blowing zephyr caresses his face; his Adam apple rises and drops dryly in his throat.

“Is there a…”

“Oh c’mon, Hartmann! You know the answer to the question, don’t act stupid and play small talk with me, it’s not your style.”

Lacey’s lips press shut together, her green eyes dropping to the floor. She knows the only Mrs. Walker is his mother, and Madeleine has been gone for a couple of years now. Everything is in his file, allowing her to learn about the “mundane life” August Walker leads, or at least the ones he allows her to see through her CIA spectacles.

It was an obligation to do the same with her. His old man once told him to learn who he’s dealing with before opening his “goddamn mouth.” That’s all there is to it, and his curiosity if he has to admit it.

Lacey Hartmann lives alone with her cat, Sir Podrick, on Hampshire St 457 on flat number 45. A magazine two-room apartment, picture-perfect, tidy to the point of OCD. She has an older sister but they rarely see each other. On her free weekends, she loves to watch romantic comedies while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows.

He often wonders if her sweet tooth is compensating for something missing in her life. Yet there is never a man in her apartment.

Sometimes she dances in front of the window, especially after a hard day at the office. He can’t tell which music is playing in her headphones, but the way she moves her body makes him believe it’s something upbeat and cheerful.

The images of her bedroom window vanish as a slightly irritating thought peaks in his mind at her comment. Mrs. Walker. A hiss of violent air shoots from his nostrils.

Relationships were not something he cared to pursue. Life had other offerings.

Besides, the women he liked were too tender and he was too rough. So, his conquests never lasted more than a night.

Agitated, he pulls his sleeve to look at his Rolex, muttering something obscene under his breath which makes Lacey shift uncomfortably on her feet. The driver should have arrived by now. Every car that parks at the pebbled road bears disappointment, dropping off more honeymooners and rich, older married couples.

A soft smile breaks on Lacey’s painted lips while she stares at August who’s facing the driveway with his fists clenched at the sides of his body.

“Well, since we’re stuck here waiting for a ride, you better entertain me.” Lacey speaks with grace, not a hint of nervousness or fright in her voice. She learnt how to deal with August and his tantrums by now.

August remains silent, his sight never breaking from the driveway and the alley of palm trees that pave the path.

“Or I guess we can stare at the big full moon,” she says to herself, lifting her eyes to the clear sky.

August stares back at the golden-haired woman, her long lashes fluttering gently as she counts the stars in her mind. A naive glint sparks her eyes as she’s captivated by her own fascination. The pale blue of the moon reflects on her milky skin, making her look like a siren in her beautiful dress.

“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he says in his deep voice.

*~*

And even if it existed, hell wouldn’t have you.

*~*

The expo is held at a royal mansion of some sort. A large Sicilian palace that is owned by an ageing millionaire. Golden floral embellishments spread across the azure velvet walls, shimmering at the lights of the crystal chandeliers which dangle in the halls.

Various ancient trinkets are placed in glass cubes. Crudely-made bows and arrows that were carved from cheap wood by a half-brain neanderthal are offered for the price of 200,000,000 Euros.

Ridiculous.

Keen on finding their target, both August and Lacey decide to split up upon their arrival, planning their strategy ahead by protocol. August is the striking image of professionalism tonight, stretching his gaze around the large hallway. He has been this way for the last several missions, working by the book, making sure to perform as clean as possible, whatever that means in CIA terms.

He even managed to win a word of praise from Sloane, who still can’t stand the very sight of his face. But at least she ceased from eating his head at the conclusion of every mission.

And Lacey seems to appreciate it, too.

The brooding man spends the night pretending to be enthralled by the exhibition and its boring guests who continually attempt to strike pointless conversations with him. As part of his task, he only speaks with those who seem to be an asset and brushes others away by answering in fluent Italian, pretending to not understand a word in English while smiling at them politely.

Blending in, the young agent stands by one of the bars, leaning onto the marble counter and enjoying some type of strawberries-in-cream dessert which was offered to him by a tall, abnormally attractive waitress who’s been walking around with a silver tray.

Lacey would love this fruit-pudding thingy, he muses as his fingers brush through the mid-length stubble above his lip. His eyes carefully scan the room for any group of men in their late 30s for a clue or a sign.

The sound of a woman’s laughter chips away his attention like a siren’s call.

So that’s how she sounds like when she laughs.

Grabbing a glass of champagne, he steps forward on the black carpeted floor, following the cheerful voice as it rolls delightfully in his ears. Storm clouds gather in his eyes. The siren is behaving unprofessionally to the point of being offensive. A tall glass of half-empty Lambrusco hangs between her slender fingers while her head falls back; her hand rests on her chest, trying to contain her laughter.

She is the centre of attention to a group of famished men.

August frowns with disapproval. She’s supposed to act drunk, not get buzzed. Standing at the large pathway, he watches how she smiles widely, mouth gaping, small dimples peeking at the corner of her lips. The honey of her hair makes her stand out in a room of dark beauties, the shade of her dress an anchor for any travelling eyes.

He takes an irritated sip from his champagne, swallowing the sparkly liquid, trying to ignore the bells of laughter which begin to sound like an insult, meant to provoke him. His piercing eyes search for the target in the room, focusing on the task on hand and being the professional his father urged him to be.

Yet as if magnetized, his glare returns to her.

For a moment there he nearly forgets that she is a CIA agent. The men around her flirt nearly barbarically, their mouths salivating with predatory hunger. Is she too pure to understand their intentions? The vultures are waiting to tear her limb by limb. Possibly hoping she will be drunk enough to be dragged by one of them.

The storm inside him rages. Thoughts of her being tainted by one of these hideous men enter his mind and poison bubbles in his throat, drowning him in anger.

He puts his champagne flute on the tray of one of the hostesses who passes by. He fixes his tie over his neck and swallows hard. His strides are confident and charismatic as he marches into their circle abruptly, reaching an arm over to Lacey.

“Sweetheart, here you are. Come see this piece, you’re going to love it.” hee speaks with contained anger, his baritone loud and clear, roaring through his puffed chest and squared shoulders.

Lacey turns to smile at him as he latches his fingers around her forearm, rescuing her by pulling her away from the predators with as much elegance he can muster at his current aggravated mood.

“Are you fucking drunk, Hartmann? What’s wrong with you?! We have a dangerous man to catch.” He whispers angry and low in her ear, carrying her toward an open terrace where they can discuss and re-strategize the mission.

The cool breeze caresses their faces, tenderly running through their hair as they approach the open air. The young woman continues to giggle as August’s fingers tickle beneath her armpit while he takes her to stand next to the large renaissance modules that hide them from the guests of the event. He lets go of her forearm, looking down at her with a scowl.

“Relax, I was trying to make it look convincing with these decadent, empty idiots.” she attempts to pacify him, looking up into his eyes, her head reaching just beneath his square chin.

“Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“What is?”

“The way they sell these artefacts on such a high price when it was created by a primitive creature who ate his own fleas,” she mocks with a mischievous smile. “This is the end of human culture, this capitalistic point of view.”

A cold shiver crawls at August’s spine as he hears her speaking of his ideals. He had never seen her this way before.

So opinionated, so bold.

Has she been reading my mind?

They have never been this physically close, he can smell the lupines on her skin and the Lambrusco on her breath. Lacey’s amused grin begins to relax somewhat, her eyes now staring at something with stark fascination.

“You have a brown spot in one of your eyes.”

August brow furrows even deeper, dark lines forming between his thick eyebrows as the woman ogles him in a bizarre way. His blood thickens as the pleasant wind brushes at his face.

“Sectoral heterochromia, I was born with it.”

“It’s beautiful,” she answers with an enchanted glare, batting her lashes and moving further to study the shape of his flaw. Her feet arch to the tip of her toes, reaching higher to his face. August remains still, watching as if within a haze when her lips crash onto his.

Chills spiral through his nerves, his eyes wide open as her soft lips press into his in a long, chaste kiss. There is a small hum in her voice, painted lashes look like black curved trails as her eyes shut with an enchantment. For a second he can feel her body press into his, her breasts grinding at his broad chest. She slowly detaches from him, opening her eyes and falling flat on her feet.

Alarm spills onto her face, her hand covering her mouth with guilt as panic surges. August stares back without a sign of emotion on his arctic face.

“I’m so sorry!” She calls out in utter embarrassment, moving away from him by a step.

His breath grows rigid, his mind a war. In an instant, he pulls her wrist away from her face and claims her into his grasp, kissing her earnestly, even violently. Lacey’s moans melt into his mouth, her body crashing into his, writhing as her lips gape, accepting his insidious tongue.

She tastes like sugar.

August slams her against the wall, growling as her hands roam down his body and messing his outfit. A fervent stir tingles at his groin and the way she squeezes the muscles of his behind and tries to shove her hands under his trousers does nothing to relax his racing heart. Depraved, his hand pushes between her legs, trying to cup her heat through the tight dress, yet it cages her legs too tightly.

“I want you out of this fucking dress.” August growls, breaking the passionate kiss to breath hot and heavy in her ear.

“Then take me back to the hotel.” she retorts breathlessly, grinding her pelvis into the growing hardness in his groin.

“We can’t, the mission.”

Lacey emits a frustrated huff, sounding as if she’s meaning to beg as her body constantly pushes into his in a snakelike dance. “Forget about him, he’s not here, we’ll do it the Walker way.”

There is nothing in this world strong enough to convince him otherwise as those big doe eyes peer at him with admiration and a sense of need he never received from any woman before. It wasn’t like the women who begged him to fuck them as he tormented and delayed their release.

For the first time in his life, he felt purely wanted.

~*~

The ride back to the hotel is the most dreadful experience he had to endure in his life. Both Lacey and he sit at each side of the car, avoiding eye contact whilst their organs throb with aching need. She keeps her fingers laced together while the driver listens to some old Italian love song and sings along the tunes on the radio. August attempts to avoid drowning into his thoughts but the idea of having her tonight makes the blood pool hot in his loins.

They hardly make it into her room. Exploiting every moment left in solitude to make out like horny teenagers. Whenever a hotel staff member or a guest passes by, they break away from one another in the most obvious manner.

As they finally arrive at the suite, August kicks the door shut with his foot and preys at her, his talons reaching for her face, his thumb wiping off whatever remains of her lipstick before kissing her again.

“I don’t like this, it isn’t you.” he states in between invigorated kisses while Lacey battles to take off his clothes, pushing the blazer off his shoulders and then working the buttons of his vest and shirt with lust guiding her fingers. She ignores his remark, answering with another breathless kiss instead while moving to fumble with his belt.

Their feet kick at one another as August leads them toward the king-size bed, fondling the curves of her body through the terrible prison that is her dress. His long legs nearly lose their balance as she successfully unzips his trousers and finds him fully erect and pulsating in her small hand.

Logic turns to steam at the manipulation of her hands. His gasps resonate through the length of his throat, giving in to the whispers of his heart. How long yearned for her, wanting to keep her in the birdcage of his vision.

Lacey, so bold yet so sweet.

With the swiftness of his hands, he turns her around, tugging at the zipper of her dress while dotting her collarbone with possessive nibbles. Her naked figure unveils to him as a flower opens to the sunlight of spring.

Left in nothing but her baby-blue lace underwear, she steps out of her dress and moves to face the large naked man, pacing back as he sneaks toward her like a direwolf. The look on her face is admirable. Drenched of fear and desire at once, feeding his natural dominance.

“August…” she whispers his name. Her lips quiver at the sight of his broad form, appreciating every sinew, every muscle. August reaches to hold his cock as the blood stirs into it with rage, wanting to be inside this angel, to taint her and mark every piece of skin.

“I don’t have a condom.” he warns, licking his lips as she slides her underwear down her long, creamy legs. Her mound is completely waxed, just the way he wants it. Pure.

“I’m clean and protected.”

Inviting him into her mysteries, Lacey offers him a devoted stare and reaches her delicate hand toward him. No clarity is left in his mind; desire clouds every rational thought, every self-preservation instinct. He ignores her hand and lunges at her like a predator.

They fall into a sea of silken sheets together, August covering her body with his, giving no care of how his weight crushes her. His hands hold her wrists pinned to the mattress as he pushes her smooth thighs apart with his knees.

Lacey’s moans are mesmerizing as he sinks himself into her wonders. Singing her pleasure at him like a true siren. An overwhelmed groan breaks from his own lips as the wetness of her flesh encloses around his cock, sucking him from within with an embrace of lust. Soft and delicate, she writhes against his crude, rugged body and he thrusts inside her with teetering grunts, taking her with sheer, primal dominance.

She feels different, like no other woman he ever had before. Completely submissive to his darkest desires. Her body opens to him, like a precious, heavenly nymph and he takes what he wants. Deeper and deeper, drowning into her womb, never wanting to stop, invigorated by the way her hands clutch at his body with the same desperation that is in his chest.

For three days, they never leave the suite. Lost in a carnal euphoria that makes both of them forget the existence of the outer world.

~*~

Oh, hell indeed exists, it’s on the earth you walked your entire life.

~*~

The delicious aroma of crispy, caramelized bacon and fluffy pancakes tickles his senses to wake up. Salty and sweet, the scent draws him to sit upon the bed that’s slightly too small for his wide frame. A drowsy smirk crawls onto his face. This scent is his second favourite thing to wake up to.

Locating his cobalt trunks on the floor, he hauls himself out of her bed, pulls them on and tries to tame the messy bundle of curls on his head while he walks to find her in the kitchen. The bacon sizzles on the pan as Lacey stands next to the stove in his buttoned-up shirt. She is flipping an impossible quantity of pancakes and frying strips of bacon in another pan.

Her rounded ass peeks at him with every shift her body makes.

August sneaks behind her with the skill of a CIA agent, looming closer and wrapping his arms around her torso, his chin resting on the top of her head, while his hungry eyes feast on the pancakes and amber bacon.

Lacey flinches in his grip, he can feel her heart jump for a moment before she relaxes into his embrace, lips melting into a wide smirk as August rocks her from side to side.

“Morning,” she hums delightfully. “Go sit, there is freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.”

August drops a kiss on the top of her head, a low growl of serenity climbing up his throat. “You’re a dream, princess.”

And you’re all mine.

With a wisp of unwillingness, he detaches from her and walks to the table, where Lacey’s favourite mug of coffee awaits him with steam rising from within. His eyes are a calm sea sparkling at the sunrise as he looks at her with admiration.

Everything about her tips him across the edges of sanity; the way she smiles at his horrible dark jokes, the way she listens to everything he says with devotion and appeal, the way she speaks about her ideals and sees him like no person ever did before.

Lacey turns her head and sneaks a small glance at him, giving a smile and a wink before returning to the stove.

It took 5 months to admit to himself that he likes this, that he enjoyed being here, with her and her stupid cat, or in every distant location in the world. It didn’t matter if they were in Afghanistan or Paris, as long as he got to listen to her breathing in her slumber. That night in Sicily wasn’t just mindless sex. It was a union of two souls. They spent the night talking and while he was reluctant to open up-as he still is-he was stunned to find out just how much this woman shared similar points of views.

Though she never says it specifically, Lacey wants to watch the world burn.

He hasn't even told her about his idea, not yet. It’s probably too soon anyway as he only started formulating his intention a couple of months ago. A part of him still fears how she may react if she finds out he’s been selling CIA secrets and dealing weapons right beneath Sloane’s nose.

“I hope you’re hungry,”

Lacey calls out as she places two large plates of pancakes and bacon on the table and walks quickly to get the maple syrup from the counter. Sir Podrick jumps on the table as she puts the syrup next to the plates. Aggravated, August shoos the cat away and reaches to grab the woman's forearm, forcing her into his lap possessively.

“You know I am, princess.” he murmurs as he kisses her shoulder and then her lips, before grabbing a piece of pancake and some bacon with his fork and nibbling it deliciously. Lacey remains on his lap, grabbing a stripe of bacon from his plate and chewing on it with a pleasant moan before directing her gaze to August.

“How long do you think we can keep this a secret?” she asks, slight concern appearing on her face. August swallows the remaining pancake in his mouth and sips some coffee to clear his throat. His fingers thread through the gold of her hair, combing the large waves repeatedly.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

His voice is nearly that of a child.

The agency’s protocol won’t allow partners to be in a relationship due to an incredible conflict of interest. “Sloane would lose her shit if she’d find out this entire time we’ve been doing this.” He chuckles dryly and shoves another piece of pancake into his mouth while still looking at Lacey. The first morning rays shine through the wide-open window, basking her face with a shimmering summer glow.

“We can run away,” she teases. “Buy a yacht, tell Erica to go fuck herself and sail the sea.”

August smirks, his hand descending to the small of her back as images of embarking to the great unknown with her fill his chest with euphoric bliss.

A daydream, perhaps in the future, after mankind is free.

“I think she’s beginning to warm up to me though.”

“Well, she did start calling you The Hammer after the last mission.” Lacey answers and grabs the mug from August’s side, stealing a mischievous sip. “If only they knew it has a different meaning to some of us.”

August crooks his eyebrow up at Lacey and wipes his moustache clean. His hands reach to tickle the sides of her belly, causing her to let go of the mug before he snatches it back. Her giggles make his heart feel at ease, something he’ll never dare to tell or show her.

Asserting his dominance by only giving as much.

“Why did you join the agency in the first place? You never told me.” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, the green of her eyes appearing yellow at the ray of sunlight that beams on her face.

His gaze falls upon the table, staring at the remnants of the pancakes while licking his teeth. Thoughts of his past begin to echo in the chasm of his mind.

The day his mom fell to her knees and let out a banshee-like howl of agony at the empty ceiling as two agents came into their house.

He was 13, and from that moment on, he was all alone in a cold, ravenous world.

“I wanted to die for the government, just like my father.” he spits out, thinking of how his life turned over one autumn morning. A tall, lanky boy who couldn’t even comfort his mother as she tore off tufts of her hair.

August didn’t even cry, not since then.

The curious look on Lacey’s face fades into sadness, compassion welling on her now golden-green irises. “You never told me how he died.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek, his eyebrows knitting together as anger begins to slightly boil his blood. “Like all heroes, forgotten. I don’t know how, it was during a mission in Moscow. Nothing in his files but a mention on an accident, no details other than that.”

“Is that why you have such small faith in the government?” Lacey asks innocently, referring to their pillow-talk. The ones they have while she presses her soft cheek to his chest and draws invisible circles onto his chest.

The lump in his throat dries as he remembers the weeks that followed after his father was gone. They were thrown to the dogs to be gnawed at. No compensation, no financial support, and no one to comfort young August.

His mother couldn’t even look at him anymore. Those blue soulful eyes, the cleft of his chin, and even the shape of his nose were inherited from his father.

The most pain August has ever endured was when someone he loved was unable to look at him anymore.

Madeleine was a loyal housewife from the midwest who never took a real job. Arthur provided for them. While he wasn’t the warmest father, he kept his family close, taking them with him on his trips, unless they were too dangerous.

By the time August was seven, he’s already been to all continents.

After his father’s death, both the money and his mother withered away. Having no experience in anything but waiting tables, Madeleine couldn't support her own child and perhaps she didn’t want to. The boy was a painful memory of what she lost.

The last he remembers of her, she dragged him with her to church and went on her knees as August sat on the bench. She prayed and cried out to God until her knees bled and her eyes rimmed red from the tears she wept.

But God never answered.

That week, social services arrived at their door. He never saw her since that day and needless to say, no one wanted a hostile 13-year-old boy.

August turns his face to stare at Lacey, examining her round, freckled face and her plump, pink lips. They make her look like a renaissance painting of an angel. At times, he’s afraid that his rage will tarnish her, swallow the light of her spirit. Yet he can never hold back, fucking her so roughly, she hurts for days. His instincts drive him to spill all his fury into her cavities. To offer all the spite and hurt that poisoned his soul, as if it will cleanse him.

And for a few seconds, he is sanctified. Coming inside her makes him feel complete in every sense of the word.

The soft purring of Lacey’s cat grounds him to reality. The chubby ginger cat rubs around his leg affectionately, his yellow diamond eyes staring at August.

“Let’s not talk about it, anymore,” he replies in a somewhat final tone.

Lacey nods at him, giving him a look full of understanding. Her fingers reach behind his ear, stroking the soft chocolate curls and tucking them back. “Okay, Aug. But we really need to talk about that!”

Her fingers move to point at his thick moustache, her eyes narrowing with disdain.

August strokes his moustache with his thumb and index finger and lets them slide down the stubble of his square chin. “You don’t like it?”

Lacey shakes her head with protest, trying her best to appear irritated. “No.”

Princess is so cute when she pretends to be angry.

August offers her a smug smirk in return, grabbing the last remaining piece of bacon from his plate and sliding it whole into his mouth. “Too bad, it stays.” he answers with his mouth full, grease smearing on the corners of his lips. “It makes me look dangerous and you love it.”

“No, you look like pornstar.”

“I’d fuck you like one.” he answers with a dark glint in his eyes. In a sudden movement, he places both hands on Lacey’s waist and stands up with her in his grip. The woman squeals with surprise as he flings her over his shoulder with little to no effort and stings her ass with a sharp slap.

“Do you want it here, sweetheart, or in the bedroom?” he asks and bites the fat of her behind. Lacey cries out in pain, her legs kicking the air.

He loves to hear her laugh, just as much as he loves to hear her scream.

*~*

If hell is on earth, then what does it make you?

*~*

Like a creature dwelling in the darkness, he sits in the bleak hours of the night, fingers stroking the keys as if he’s a composer, conducting his symphony of destruction. The flesh of his lips chafe at the lack of sleep and insufficient fluids, yet he gives no care.

This will be his legacy, his gift to the world, his gift to her.

The pale teal light of the screen flickers lightly on his weary corneas. It’s nothing but pixels, black on white, five blocks of paragraphs for now, but the raw power in words proceeds beyond any other weapon known to mankind. So pure, so cataclysmic.

Just like an atomic reaction.

She will see through his eyes soon. The potential, the greater good. All her words of breaking the system, about dreaming of a better world. A sweet, naive girl with a mind fed with agenda. It was as if they were threaded into one another’s life, destined to be.

The paving of a new world has already begun. They call themselves the apostles, a group of no more than 12 people, men and women of science and power. Their identities are unknown among one another. It matters very little, the seeds have been sown into the earth. Small acts of terror, biological and chemical incidents around selected locations around the globe, just enough to test the waters.

Greatness from small beginnings.

It will take time, yet he is patient, and his little angel of destruction will be by his side once the time is right. All mankind will be reunited in peace after the earth will shudder beneath their feet.

~*~

Does it make you a monster?

~*~

Something sharp prods his mind to wake up. A nightmare, whispering toxic words in the darkness. He hears a vague ruffle in the webbed darkness of the night and he blindly reaches his palm to stroke her and finds himself abandoned. There is a knot in his gut and a storm brewing in his mind. Carefully and silently, he reaches for the loaded gun in his nightstand and slips out of bed.

Pale blue and humming, a soft light invites him to follow to the office next to his bedroom. His heart drums heavily in his chest, his face falling as his vision becomes clear. Bright pink winks through the molten mixture of shadow and light. She hovers over his open computer, spreading files and paper plans over the surface of his desk, all the while holding her digital camera, violating his secrets.

Whatever is in his chest shrieks and bleeds with misery.

“Would be more efficient if you’d switch the light on.”

The woman jumps as she hears his voice and a heavy flood of bright light showers her crimes as August flicks the switch on. She straightens up, as stiff as a frozen tree. Unable to face him right away, her face remains hidden from him. August can see the spasm of her legs beneath her nightdress.

“What are you doing?” August asks, his voice low and menacing, eyes travelling from the Nikon camera that hangs from her hand to his secret scribbles as they lay on his desk, right next to his open manifest.

“Look at me.” he demands, stern and composed as he can.

Lacey turns slowly to peer at him, her lips aquiver, eyes shining with guilt. The only sound from her is the shudder of her breath that rushes through her heaving chest.

The hurt must have blinded his thoughts. He doesn’t remember aiming his gun at her head, it’s only when he sees the woman’s surrendering gesture does he register his actions.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gun and places it carefully on the floor. His hands splay in the air, disarmed, offering a truce as he stretches to stand straight.

“Was I…” he swallows the dryness in his throat and licks his lips.

It would take a real fool to be so blind to see what was in front of him the whole time.

“I was your mission?”

Lacey remains quiet, her eyes refusing to meet his. Tears glide down the apples of her rosy cheeks.

“Tell me the truth Lacey, please. I just want to understand.” The threat in his voice turns soft, becoming nearly a plea as he takes one step forward, watching the woman flinch and step back, her behind colliding with the desk.

The woman weeping in front of him is a trained CIA agent, yet the despair in her eyes shows no signs of panning struggle. The only way out of this room is through him, a man who is nearly twice her size and knows her every move.

“Erica suspected you’re the one who is leaking secrets, so she sent me…”

That’s why she inquired so much, wanted to hear his thoughts, to sleep at his home despite his reluctance. He agreed for the first time tonight, unaware of her insidious intentions.

Did you really think you deserve this?

August scoffs, his heart clenching painfully in his battered lungs.

He was wrong. There is something more painful than having someone you love never look back at you.

“Did she tell you to sleep with me?”

Lacey’s gaze drops to the floor in silence; her answer is nothing but a pathetic sniffle as she pinches her nose.

Bile rises in his throat as he sees shame on her face, so obvious, so obscene. Her purity was false.

There was nothing sweet or innocent about her, she was nothing but a whore.

“Answer me!!!” he rumbles, more beast than man.

Lacey jumps and sobs with panic, nodding her head at him with her confession. “Ye..Yes… any means possible.”

Running his palm through his face and groaning with frustration, the young CIA agent exhales hoarsely. He takes another small step towards her, gradually closing the distance between them, watching his shadow loom on her porcelain skin.

Lacey’s eyes widen with panic. Her ankles kick back the wooden legs of the desk, her hands scattering August’s belongings. White sheets of paper fly down to the floor, ink smudged by tears.

“Stay away,” she warns.

“Does she know? Did you tell her or anyone else at the agency?” he ignores her pathetic threats, taking another step closer. Her floral scent fills his nostrils, nearly triggering his instinct to claim her lips. His gaze softens with an ocean of mercy as she shakes in front of him so violently, breaking into tears of grief.

Delicate fingers cup her jaw, sliding across the slick moistness of her tears as he tilts her chin up. “Please, tell me the truth.”

Lacey lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes puffy and red, her plump lips swollen. She wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “I had nothing to report, until now.”

His grasp tightens around her chin, forcing her head back to look at the text flickering on the monitor. “All this talk about a better world, I thought this is what you wanted.”

She snaps her head back to glare at him, eyes narrowing with disgust and anxiety. “You thought I’d like this?! This is sick!”

August’s nostrils flare yet he gives a gentle nod of understanding and hushes her sudden surge of stress. His hand caresses her round, damp face. The thick pads of his thumbs wipe the salty tears away from her skin and his body presses into hers.

Even a tremoring mess, she is still so soft and warm.

“Did you ever love me?”

His lips are merely an inch from her temples as he whispers. His large hand slides down her cheek, stroking down her jaw and descending further below her chin.

Unable to muster another lie, she remains silent, aware of the fact that the sand in the hourglass has all but diminished, along with her chances of survival.

Words are unnecessary. The truth speaks loudly in her eyes, the poisonous infidelity was always there all along. Struck by her angelic beauty he was too blind to see, leeching onto false heaven, a childish fantasy of love that never existed.

Small spots of blood begin to form in her wide-open eyes as his long fingers lock around her thin neck, squeezing with intensifying force. Tighter, harder. His name remains caged in her throat as she fights for the air she thinks she deserves.

“No, you didn’t.” August whispers, his vision beginning to blur. “You never did.”

Strangled yips of pain wheeze through her mouth. Struggling frantically while August hardly even bats an eyelid, staring at her with no emotion on his face. Desperate arms reach out to both heaven and hell, her body squirms and her eyes plead for August to let go.

Begging for her life.

Something breaks inside her throat. Her last breath follows, a short gasp, frozen in her body for eternity as both her heart and her eyes become still.

August glances at her pale skin, her gaping lips stained violet, her bloodied eyes glassy, returning his broken reflection.

Sorrowful tears roll down the lines of his face as his heart pumps with pain black as tar. A loud gasp of agony rips from him, shuddering across his entire existence as the very base of his soul chars in his chest. Broken, he falls to his knees with Lacey cradled in his arms, his hand stroking her dull hair and her blue cheeks while husky cries of anguish come through his throat.

All emotions end. An empty abyss claims the spot where his soul once laid. The only thing left to him now is pure, undistilled hatred.

~*~

I am the one who reigns in hell.

~*~

Black cold liquid seeps into weary lungs. Skeletal hands caress his face unkindly, the thin bones, so hard and frozen as they travel down his grey cheeks. No grace is given to him, no redemption. This was nothing but a dream of a life.

As tar oozes from his throat, her voice continues to call for him.

His last memories are of Erica, sitting on her throne of lies, swallowing his accusations while peering at him through her dark eyes. Face filled with guilt, oh, she didn't have a clue. Everyone believed Lacey Hartmann was the double agent this entire time. Angelic eyes hiding dark secrets. He planted the evidence in her house, in her computer, sparing his manifest of course. Just enough to tarnish her name forever.

A painful wheeze splits his throat. Iron tinged his tongue.

The promotion was won right after the body was cremated. A fine medal given for having his life put at risk.

Glory and fame won over the woman you loved.

I never loved her. She was a lying whore, she betrayed me.

But you did love me, August.

Blood spills through his mouth as he coughs. His blue eyes shoot open, peering at a great hole in the ceiling and the dust that floats calmly in the chill air of night. The pain sears his shoulder, throbbing furiously to remind him there is still blood running through his veins. He grunts as he clutches at the gaping wound, trying to hold onto the blood that still remains in his wretched heart.

Run and hide, little Ingvild

I am no one but Lucifer himself.

I will have my vengeance.

__________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise or August Walker

#August Walker #Henry Cavill #The Way to Hell #August Walker Fanfiction #Mission Impossible Fallout #Henry cavill Fanfiction #August Walker x OFC #henry cavill x ofc #Mission Impossible Fanfiction

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years

Text

Hypnagogic | Luther Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Luther Hargreeves x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.1k

✦ soulmate AU

✦ summary — you always assumed you weren’t meant to have a soulmate.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of alcohol, fluff

✦ a/n — I love Luther!!! I hope I did him justice.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Anybody at that bar could’ve been your soulmate and none of them at the same time.

You traced your forearm where a soulmate mark was supposed to be. The lack of mark had never intrigued you, but you often wondered what it would say if you had one.

Everyone was meant to find someone. That was how human beings were conditioned to live, that was how humans had lived since the beginning.

Soulmate marks were dreaded by some, and others saw them as the only thing helping them cling to life. You were torn.

You still remembered the day your mark was supposed to appear on your skin, the first thing your soulmate would say to you when you met them.

You had expected something sweet — in your defense, you were fifteen — but you found nothing more than a scorching sensation and a blank arm. Your mom cried a lot that day, looking for the mark all over your body.

You had been confused, scared. Were you meant to be alone for the rest of your life? How could someone you weren’t meant to be with ever look your way? Would you ever meet more people without marks?

You had tried to rehearse reactions to finding out you weren’t the only one without a mark, but soon you grew out of that habit. Everybody you had ever met had a mark.

You weren’t meant to find anyone. It was useless to cling to hope that anybody out there was in the same situation.

The red-haired woman in the corner didn’t look like someone who wouldn’t have a mark. None of her friends did either. They were having fun, though, laughing and drinking while she told them a story.

You knew the bartender wasn’t your soulmate because he invited you to her wedding with her soulmate. Neither was the man at the end of the bar — you had shared a couple of shots together a few times, he was nice and very respectful, his soulmate had died years ago and he would often talk about them.

Forgetting about it was the only thing you could do. But not with alcohol, that would be stupid. And it wouldn’t work.

You paid your tab and wished the bartender a good night, zippering up your jacket.

Your apartment wasn’t far away. That was the main reason why you frequented that place. You felt safe around those three blocks.

Crossing the street, you could hear the lady down the street yelling for her kids to get in already. She always did that, and they never listened — you liked that she never seemed to mind, it was as though she enjoyed it.

She probably did. People were supposed to enjoy seeing their children happy after all.

Reaching your building, you bumped into a scarily tall and muscular man. Lowly apologizing, you walked past him and continued your path toward the stairs.

“Excuse me, ma’am...” he trailed off, walking behind you.

You found yourself glued to your spot the moment he spoke. You craned your neck to look at him, making sure he was talking to you.

“May I help you?”

The words sounded familiar to him. It felt like he could taste them, they sounded sweet, caring, with a hint of fear.

Although taken aback by your tone, he nodded frantically. “Do you know where I could find someone able to wrap a gift?”

Turning around, you stared up at him. He looked familiar, you felt as though you had known him your entire life. “In the middle of the night?”

“My niece’s birthday is tomorrow, technically today, and I wanted to surprise her in the morning.” Explaining himself further on, he fiddled with his hands, “I would do it myself, but...”

You shook your head. It was a really sweet gesture, but he should’ve thought about that way earlier. He looked like a lost puppy, staring down at his hands.

“I’m (Full Name).” You offered your hand.

He shook it delicately, giving you goosebumps. He enjoyed the difference in size, how warm your palm was, the fact that you hadn’t complained because his weren’t soft like yours. “Luther Hargreeves.”

You gaped. You used to have the biggest crush on him back when you were obsessed with the fact that superheroes were real.

“Well, Luther,” you tested his name on your tongue. “I believe I could help you as long as you bring the wrapping paper.”

He stood there for a moment, only staring at you, relishing on the way you had said his name. No one, not even Grace, had ever uttered his name with so much emotion.

Convinced that it was his loneliness getting the best of him, he made a gesture with his hand for you to wait for him.

You did so, trusting him. If you were to be killed that night, which you doubted because superheroes didn’t tend to be serial killers, at least it would’ve been by someone who used sweet excuses to prey on people.

God, you needed to learn how to trust people without putting yourself in danger.

He came back with a doll, balancing the toy on his open palm in his attempts to not crush it, and a roll of wrapping paper curled on his fingers. The doll was cute, you would have liked to receive it as a gift when you were a kid.

You motioned for him to follow you upstairs, rummaging through your purse in search of your keys.

Your apartment was cozy — warm, like he imagined home was supposed to make someone feel. He sat down on the couch at your cue, smiling to himself when a photo of you and your parents caught his eye.

You disappeared for a moment, not before offering him something to drink. He liked how nice you were.

Scissors and tape in hand, you came back. Placing them next to the doll on the center table, you sat down.

Unrolling the paper, using the tape dispatcher to hold it open, you observed he kept his coat on no matter what.

Yes, the city wasn’t warm at night, you understood that, but your apartment was not cold at all. You would’ve broken into a sweat already if you hadn’t shed your jacket.

“You live alone?” He asked, dragging his eyes away from the photos of your graduation to your face.

“Yeah. I used to live with a friend,“ you started saying as you measured the box before cutting the paper, “but they found their soulmate and moved out.”

“You haven’t met yours?”

You lifted the scissors, sighing. You weren’t looking forward to the pity in his reaction, but you told him anyway, “I don’t have one.”

“Everybody has one.”

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you assured him, tugging on the tape to cut a piece, “but I don’t have a mark.”

“Oh.” His voice lowered. There wasn’t pity there, only sadness. “I don’t have one either.” Something inside him told him he could trust you, that you wouldn’t judge him or laugh. “I used to, but I had an accident once — my mission was to stop a biochemical threat.”

You gave him your full attention, holding the edge of the paper with a piece of tape so you could let go of it.

His voice got sadder, “It didn’t end pretty. Dad saved my life with a serum, but my body changed so much that the mark disappeared. Now I’m part ape.” He tilted his head to the side for emphasis. “Kind of.”

Luther often found himself staring at his forearm. He would never be able to read the words etched on his skin again. Every hope he once had of finding his soulmate, the person he was destined to love and protect forever, had died the day his life was saved.

He knew his place, understood he had responsibilities. He didn’t mind paying a high price for doing what was right. It simply stung.

He should’ve written down the words his soulmate would tell him. But what for? How could he have known he would never be able to look at his them ever again?

With his siblings gone and his hopes to one day build a proper family decimated, he had accepted the mission his father gave him with no complaints.

The moon sounded like a nice place, and he would be able to indirectly protect his soulmate from there.

It had been enough for years. He found comfort in the fact that he was doing an amazing job, following orders, sending reports frequently.

That comfort was crushed when he found out his reports had never been read. His siblings pitied him, he could tell — or maybe he hoped they would.

What was his soulmate doing? Were they having a better life than he was? Had they temporarily found someone?

He longed to find them. There had to be a way. But who could he ask? Pogo didn’t know about those things, and mom... mom was malfunctioning.

Was he meant to lose everyone he loved and everyone that could ever love him back?

“I remember,” he said, extending his arm, “that it was right here.” He pointed at his forearm, making an up and down motion. “But I can’t remember the words. I just know they were nice.”

“You’ll find them one day,” you told him, incapable of hiding how sad your voice had turned. “Soulmates are meant to be, and you know yours exists.”

You finished wrapping the doll in silence, wishing you hadn’t offered to help him. You were entertaining the most absurd things now, things that only a child would find feasible.

He didn’t mention anything about jumping to the same conclusions. It had sounded like he cared, but perhaps he cared so much that he expected something else. You were scared to ask.

You didn’t want him to leave, his company was soothing even through the silence.

Why was it that when you had decided to stop caring you were stuck in such a situation?

Surely you were getting ahead of yourself because there were too many coincidences. Nothing else, nothing more.

Standing up, you showed him the final product. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he tried, extending his hand so you would place the gift on his palm.

“I think it’s admirable, by the way,” you told him honestly, placing your hand on his forearm, “that you still—“

His eyes widened, searching for yours. Confused, you felt him press his free hand on your forearm.

A gasp slid past your lips.

You had heard multiple stories about how it felt to meet a soulmate for the first time, and you had always assumed you would never experience anything like that.

Yet there you were, whole body tingling as you felt that familiar scorching sensation that doomed you when your mark was supposed to appear.

“D–did you feel that?”

Luther rasped, “I felt something right where your hand is.” Clearing his throat, he continued explaining, “I don’t feel most things so it’s a big deal.”

Of course it was. You looked down at your forearm, where his hand still rested. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, the scorching had simmered down to mere tickles.

“Does this mean we...?” he trailed off, unsure as though how to approach the subject.

You nodded, unable to hide your smile. He looked so handsome, lively blue eyes slightly damp as a smile of his own broke through the now long gone frown.

Luther put the wrapped gift down in order to crush you into a hug. Hugging back, as tightly as you could, you prayed even though you hadn’t done it for years that this wasn’t a dream.

So many years you had thought you were meant to be lonely, believed to be an anomaly. Being in the arms of your potential soulmate was hypnagogic. It felt too real to be a dream, and too good to be true at once.

“I thought I would never find you,” he confessed, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Shifting so your cheek would rest on his chest, you told him, “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I didn’t look for you more adamantly.”

“We’re here now. We’ll make up for the lost time.”

The relief in his voice was everything you needed to dissipate every ounce of doubt you had left. You felt at peace upon hearing the changes in his tone, feeling his hard body slumping as he got comfortable.

Luther confirmed what he had only imagined earlier. This was what home was supposed to feel like.

#luther hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #luther hargreeves #soulmate au #the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x plus size reader #tua x reader #tua x plus size reader

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

Text

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - CHAPTER 1 (VERGIL X NERO’S MOTHER)

Summary: Vergil arrives in Fortuna and crosses path with a rebellious lady dressed in red. But even if he doesn't want pay attention, Fortuna seemed determined to intertwine their lives.

(PROLOGUE)

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda’s past

Author’s note: So, let me introduce you to Elissa aka Nero's mother. I've decided to make her rebellious and quite feisty to mirror Nero's impetuosity. After all, that kid had to take after someone, right? So why not mummy dearest? I know the story might seem slow to start but I need to set up the scenery for the events to come. Hope you like it anyway.

It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. The cobbled streets were empty, the shops and cafes all closed, for all the inhabitants were gathered inside the Cathedral whose majestic dome overlooked the nearby Renaissance-style buildings, a sacred beacon calling the devotees to pray. But the religious establishment was nothing in comparison to the partially-veiled giant-like idol standing tall and massive within the ramparts of the city, a figure made of stone and marble with the face of Vergil’s father. It didn’t look very resembling to him. Sparda never had such delicate features, not in his son’s memories at least. But it did not matter. The young man wasn’t here to judge some clearly distasteful architecture. He was here for the answers and the promises of power that island kept in between its walls. “The Order of the Sword, huh? They worship a demon as a god?” This reality sounded foolish, incomprehensible even. His father was no god. He knew that better than anyone. But what was religion if not idealisation, divinisation of a flawed man? Humans …

***

“Elissa!” A fearful whisper pronounced the girl’s name but it would take more than a whisper for her to stop her mischief. “Elissa! Come dddd-down!” The girl named Elissa smiled, enjoying the risk she was definitely taking. Degrading the Savior? Not her first time. But she had never climbed that high before. “What if sss-omeone sees you … sss-ees us?” She rolled her green eyes, weary of the perpetual anxiety shaking the already very trembling voice of her friend. “Agnus! Stop being such a pussy!” She shouted-murmured, not really knowing why she was murmuring at all. “Everyone’s at church!” Agnus fidgeted even more as he saw the young woman taking her time spraying blue paint on the statue, the tip of her rosy tongue out, an adorable display of her concentration and perfectionism. “Does it look like the Guard’s symbol to you?” She demanded, observing her rebellious art from all possible angles. Agnus sighed and looked up, regretting to have left his lab for this childish yet dangerous adventure. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He even had a woman and a baby daughter waiting for him at home. So why wasting time playing vandals with Elissa? He knew why. “You’re not looking under my skirt, are you?” The man blushed, terribly uncomfortable. “What? Of cccc-ourse not!” But he was a scientist and scientists were curious beings. That’s what he was telling himself each time he was thinking about what was hidden underneath Elissa’s crimson clothes.The Cathedral bells rang loud, signalling the end of today’s mass. Soon, the people of Fortuna would invade the streets again to come back to their boring daily occupations. “We’re definitely gonna get ccc-caught.” Agnus told himself. “What am I gonna tell Marcus?” A suspect noise stopped Agnus in his alarming thoughts. It was coming from a few streets away. Squeals and growls of fury and pain. Demons? “Ddd-did you hear that?” Elissa listened carefully and recognized the screams. She had heard similar ones in Mitis Forest recently. She had shut a lot of them up too. They were demons alright but not the worst kind. “Just a few …scarecrows.” She tried to reassure Agnus but realised he was already gone. “Such a pussy.” She shook her head, slightly exasperated but not surprised. Agnus was not famous for his bravery, quite the opposite. He was a coward but Elissa was okay with it. After all, he had been providing the Guardians with very useful information concerning demons for a few years now, all that thanks to his natural talents as an alchemist. The girl jumped off the statue and, in order to remove the beige dust from the fabric, shook her old red dress typical of Fortuna fashion, one of the few clothes she had kept from her past life in the Order and that she now used to blend in among the Fortunans each time she would venture in town. She then cautiously pulled up her skirt to reveal a thigh belt hidden under the white petticoat and strapped the spray can, right next to a sharp curved dagger she kept in a thin leather sheath just in case. “Hey! You!” Did we say cautiously? “Shit!” Time to run.

***

Yamato shone in the sun, casting a shadow on Vergil’s young face that even this small fight hadn’t manage to fluster, and once again the blade made one with the saya with a perfect clink that echoed like a lethal musical note in the demon-cleared street. “Just what are your true intentions?” He wondered out loud as he wrapped his blue frame under a linen cloak that looked foreign to anyone who would take a look.Elissa took a look, green eyes staring with curiosity from under her white hood she had carelessly thrown above her head in precipitation to cover her soft locks of fiery ginger when she had left the place of her previous mischief as fast as she could, successfully escaping the angry guards shouting at her. She took a look, knowing exactly what this stranger had just done as she watched him crossing the crowd with purpose, alone, going up the street towards the Cathedral while everyone was walking down, their minds still lost in religious psalms. She stopped in her track for a second to admire him, wondering who he was and where he came from. She imagined a distant city at first, somewhere far away from here, crowded with people who hadn’t been indoctrinated by the Order’s promises. But then, as she noticed his bearing, so stately and yet so lonely, she thought he wasn’t from a particular place but from many places. A wanderer, traveling the world, someone who held knowledge, who had seen what was beyond the horizon of Fortuna. He probably noticed her stare as he concealed his face even more under his hood and slightly hunched his shoulders. So, out of respect and despite her devouring curiosity, Elissa walked away, certain that if Sparda wanted her to meet this mysterious strange again, then their paths would cross one more time.Vergil quietly made his way in the main avenue where the marble giant was standing and slowed down when he noticed a small crowd gathered by the statue’s feet. Everyone was gasping in shock, hands over mouths as if they were the witnesses of the worst sacrilege, the most terrible infamy. Wondering what the fuss was all about, the Son of Sparda peered over everyone’s shoulders from a distance but close enough to spot a graffiti plastered on the leg of the thing the Fortunans seemed to call The Savior. It was a symbol of some sort, a pair of winged arms with sharp claws protecting Sparda’s horned head. It had been drawn with turquoise paint that was still running down the immaculate white stone and that was leaving a heavy odour of solvents in the ambient air, identical to the one Vergil had smelt when that girl who had stared at him with insistence had walked past him, an odour indicating Vergil when the degradation had been made and who had done it.He scoffed briefly, amused by the political provocation and the over-dramatic reaction of the bigoted crowd, and after glancing one last time at the spray-painted symbol, resumed his exploration of the city. “Looks like appearances can be deceiving in this city after all.” Vergil said as he thought about the rebellious girl in saint clothes who didn’t seem to be new in the graffiti drawing business according to the devotees’ wrath. “Those rebels again! Soiling the image of Sparda with their belligerent propaganda. Hope the Order will find them soon.” They agreed with each other with angry nods. “They are worse than demons! They probably hide in shadows like the rats they are.” Had Vergil just stepped in the middle of a civil war?

***

When her holy hood fell back on her shoulders, Elissa sighed in relief, glad to finally feel her soft ginger hair finally liberated from that awful religious cage of white cotton she couldn’t stand wearing anymore. Few more minutes and she would also get rid of that ridiculous dress that constricted her like a straitjacket. But right now, she had a meeting to attend. Summoned by her leader, probably to claim responsibility for her new roguishness that had caused such a big turmoil in the city this morning, she pushed the door of Guardian Marcus’s office without an ounce of fear or apprehension. She knew full well she would not be reprimanded. She never was. “Elissa! My child, come.” The white-haired old man welcomed her with wide opened arms and showed her a seat before him where she sat in silence and waited for him to say what he had to say.At first, he just stared at her, without a word but with half a smile and a look of amusement he couldn’t keep to himself. And finally he spoke with a cheerful tone. “You should have painted it red.” His loud laugh echoed in the room and he took a huge sip of the red wine waiting to be drunk in a fancy chalice next to his velvet armchair. Elissa had a timid respectful smile; unable to act casual with this man who, even though was distant family, had been leading the cause she was fighting for for so many years, since even before she was born. “How did you find out?” “Agnus told me.” He admitted and gauged the girl’s reaction who seemed more disappointed in herself than surprised. “Should have thought so.” “Be careful who you surround yourself with, Elissa. Offering someone your trust can be as dangerous as any blade. Believe me, I know.” He traced the large scar along his wrinkled face, a reminder of an old betrayal that had made him lose, in addition to his left eye, a man he used to call brother and who was now leading Fortuna thanks to his lies and his dark secrets. Sanctus. “I shall remember your advice, sir.” “But you know what surprises me the most? It’s that Adel didn’t try to talk you out of this. After all, he follows you like a shadow … an enamoured shadow even.” Marcus smiled, trying to build complicity with this young lady, the granddaughter of the brother he had lost long ago, a child he loved like his own. Elissa smiled in return and shook her head, having trouble to believe she was having this conversation with her leader. “And yet you seemed keen on refusing his advances. May I know why?” “I didn’t know this was a matchmaking appointment.” Elissa humoured, definitely amused by the situation. “I’m old and I’ve been at war for most of my life. So let’s say, the frivolity of youth and the burgeoning loves are like peaceful songs to my heart.” Elissa sighed and her heart, in spite of this new attempt at making it yield to a man she didn’t love, once again refused to see Adel as nothing else than a friend. “I’m just not interested. Enamoured shadows are not my type.” “ And what, pray tell, is your type?”

***

Vergil had visited many places in his short lifetime. Perpetually on the move – he refused to say ‘on the run anymore’ for running was for the weak – he had seen so many cities, so many different landscapes, some in shades of blue, some in shades of green and other in shades of gold, so many colours most men would have forgotten but that he had somehow always cared to remember. But there was something about Fortuna that made her unique, different from all the things he had had the chance to see. Perhaps was it the anachronistic almost medieval atmosphere that had shaped the city architecture and the inhabitants’ lifestyle or perhaps was it because every edifice seemed to hold secret knowledge about his family. Whatever it was, Vergil was sure of one thing; what made Fortuna special were clearly not the city’s filthy underground bars from Port Caerula, well hidden under the docks, away from prying eyes that would be easily outraged by the debauchery they held between their walls. That kind of place he was familiar with, despite his revulsion for them and the people frequenting them. “Hello, sugar. You’re a new face.” An eccentric woman declared as she tried to take a peek under Vergil’s cowl, her voluptuous body leant against the bar. “And a handsome one. I would lower my price for a face like yours.” The young man glanced at the woman, shortly but long enough to see how she looked, the embodiment of repulsive tragedy that once looked beautiful. Her makeup was smeared and barely hiding the bruises and the cuts on her young face and she was wearing a church outfit ripped at the thighs and purposely unbuttoned to reveal her generous cleavage. And in her velvet purse, she kept a wig made of dry artificial ginger hair some despicable men had certainly asked her to wear more than once. “Not interested. Now leave.” Vergil’s tone was curt and cold but she insisted anyway. “You’re sure? I make the best blowjobs in all Fortuna. Isn’t that right, Captain?” She nodded towards a young charismatic brown-skinned man carrying a crossbow on his back and drinking sitting the stool right next to Vergil. When he heard his name, he spared a glare at the prostitute and at the Son of Sparda as well for no particular reason but because he hated his occasional obscene deviations to be exposed. “He just looooves some naughty church girls. Do you like them too?” Vergil ignored her and focused again on his drink, lying untouched on the bar. He didn’t like drinking. “Or do you prefer them innocent and prudish? I can be either.” “Quit with your lies and just leave, Pomona².” The dark-haired man ordered with a strong voice that made her smile. “ Ha! Looks like I finally have my name back. See you around, sugar… Adel.” She winked and left to sell her body to someone else that would accept it in exchange of a bit of money.“You should not visit that sort of bar if women like Pomona bother you, stranger.” The so-called Adel warned before drinking from his tankard. He, just like everybody else here, could tell Vergil was not from around. All they had to do was looking at him. After all, everyone knew everyone else in a small reclusive island like Fortuna. “It’s sometimes the loudest, worst people that give all the information a man looks for.” “So you’re looking for information then. About what?” Vergil was a curious man but he despised curiosity in other people, especially when he was the subject of their curiosity. “Nothing a man like you knows about.” The answer surprised the Moor who hadn’t expected such arrogance coming from a stranger. “Well, piece of advice. If you want information in Fortuna, there are two ways to get them. Either you don’t behave like an arrogant asshole or you pay for them.” Vergil smirked slightly under his hood as he already knew how to react to such pathetic insult. Adel was not a difficult man to read. “Just like when you want a woman’s love, am I right?” The provocation burnt and stang like the most vicious hot poker piercing through

Adel’s dignity and ego. It pushed him to stand up and grab his crossbow in retaliation. But his weapon, as precise and strong as it was, was useless in close combat and it instantly met the sharp blade of a magnificent katana that would make any swordsman worth the name grow pale. And with a dexterous swift move, the crossbow flew across the room as if it was a paper plane.But the clients in the bar didn’t gasp at the legendary Yamato. They gasped at the silvery-white hair adorning Vergil’s head that had been revealed when he inadvertently had lost his hood in this express fight. “It’s the hair of Sparda.” People whispered, amazed. With an expert graceful move, Yamato found his saya again and Vergil walked through the crowd, high-handed and resolved to escape this place and all those bothering eyes he felt upon him.But as he pushed the door of the establishment, he came face to face with the feminine figure he had noticed in the streets this morning. It stopped him in his track and for the first time in his lifetime, but certainly not the last, he looked into her deep green eyes. They reminded him of an old poem he loved greatly, one he had read so many times and would never grow tired of, about a dark forest and a tyger burning bright³. And as he gazed in that girl’s look and witnessed that emerald wood, wild and dense, trying to conceal in vain the fiery fur of a predator, Vergil knew he would never read that poem the same way or imagine Blake’s colours in the shades he would normally imagine them. And so he stared, longer than he wanted, almost the same way she gazed at the pale blue topazes and at the god-like silver hair crowning his head. But while fire is wild, the ice is timid. And thus, admiration only shows through the eyes of the red lady. And when she finally opened her mouth to speak her mind, Vergil escaped into the night leaving lost shadows behind him. But that was fine. Shadows were not the lady’s type after all.It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. But among them there was this vibrant red and two sparkling amber-tinted emeralds reflecting brighter than anything else in a pair of icy eyes, a mirror who strangely wouldn’t mind seeing that reflection again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ¹ Marcus: derived from the name of the Roman god of war, Mars to highlight Marcus' status and personality. ² Pomona: From Latin pomus "fruit tree". The word "Pomme" is also the French for "apple", the fruit of temptation. Pomona will come back in other chapters. ³ a tyger burning bright : From William Blake's poem The Tyger

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 8 - Familiar

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it him?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Alex sat at his drum set, sticks in hand, and began hitting things at random. Watching the cymbals wobble at dramatic angles every time he made a blow, hearing the crash ring in his ears over and over, making the toms sound da-da-dum in a roll, like his frustration could finally sound out something that fit what he meant to get across. His mom had bought him a punching bag last Christmas in a passive aggressive insistence that he needed a quiet thing to hit if he was going to get things out. Sure, he used it, but only when he actually wanted to work out. He made sure she knew so she couldn’t complain to him about wasting her money on such an expensive gift.

He needed the drums specifically. His thoughts and feelings couldn’t always come out of his mouth, but they were definitely sounds. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t make them with his own tongue. The only time he’d gotten close was when he and Willie had been screaming over the railing of the observation deck at the Stratosphere a few weeks ago.

Today’s tantrum (and preceding argument) was over school. He was a good student, but the way things were going with Sunset Curve, Alex had little desire to continue. What was another year of subjects he already grasped the concept of when he had no plans to use them? It was a circular conversation at this point, like most things he had with his parents lately. Sometimes he could nod and pretend to just accept whatever they said, but other times they got under his skin. They got in like termites, making anything that was stable inside before feel hollow and weak.

A knock sounded at the door and Alex stilled his cymbals before getting up to answer it. It was his younger sister, Abby.

“You have a phone call,” she told him. Her tone was sassy, but Alex smiled a little at hearing it mirror his own. She was learning. He was proud. Messing up her hair as he moved past her, he went over to the phone and grabbed the receiver.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered, knowing it could only be one of three people on the other end.

“Hey, man.” It was Bobby. “Luke’s been having a rough day. He won’t say that it’s because Julie is heading out to finish her tour soon, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s about. Reggie and I are thinking we take him to the pier; hopefully we can distract him.”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Alex said. “I can meet you at your place in about five minutes.”

“Sweet, dude, see ya.”

They hung up and Alex grabbed his fanny pack, slipping outside without saying a word to anyone. If his parents weren’t used to it by now that was their fault.

Less than an hour later, all the guys were on the boardwalk, surrounded by the many games and rides at Santa Monica. Someone else was busking in the corner they usually occupied, playing a saxophone and they each dropped some change in the tin set out before them. Luke was bouncy and energetic for the most part, but relatively quiet. A few thrill rides would break the silence soon enough, though.

They all walked with their arms around each other’s shoulders, forming a wall that forced anyone else to move around them. Alex had made sure Luke was in the middle, sandwiched between him and Reggie, with Bobby on Reggie’s other side. It didn’t last long, thanks to Alex’s long legs getting them all out of sync, but they still liked doing it. Soon it was just Luke and Reggie, letting Bobby and Alex walk slightly ahead on their own.

“We wanna get something to eat first?” Luke suggested.

“And blow chunks on the rides?” Alex responded. “Kinda not in the mood to pay for my own puke, thank you.”

The look of slight horror on Luke’s face made Bobby laugh.

“Thanks, Alex, for that,” Luke was saying.

“Guys, there’s a short line over here!” Reggie was already heading toward one of the rides, eyes bright with excitement. Alex held out a hand so Bobby could go before him, receiving a head shake of denial before he followed him and pulled Luke along behind. It was a two-seater anyway, and even if Alex weren’t trying to give them a nudge, having Reggie scream in front of him was far better than directly into his ears.

He usually didn’t scream on the rides as much, but he took the opportunity this time. It felt great. Willie had unknowingly given him a gift in that simple act of emptying his lungs into the air. Ride after ride, he wanted to lose his voice to all the things he let out. The safety guards didn’t quite feel like Willie’s hands grabbing onto his jacket, but he wanted to pretend. Among all the realities he kept near his chest, it was alright to imagine he still had Willie there - smiling, giggling, hands open to be held.

He’d had a good amount of time to bang it out once they’d gotten home. Alex broke more sticks that day than he ever had in his life. The main reason he stopped was because Abby came to his room crying, both because she was extremely annoyed and could tell something was wrong. Maybe his parents weren’t much for support, but he was grateful for her. He was also glad she was only nine and was still a huge cuddle bug.

After getting dizzy on rides, Luke was finally at full energy again and had moved them onto games. Alex preferred to watch, but Luke and Bobby were competitive while Reggie cheered for both.

“Is this what it was like in the arcade?” Alex asked, elbowing Reggie as he hollered at Bobby trying to throw a basketball in the net.

“You bet!” Reggie turned with a smile. “We went lo-co.” He enunciated the last word. “You got this Bobby!”

Luke had finished his turn and come up with nothing, so he joined the other two.

“Okay, after this, I’m hungry so I say we get hot dogs,” he told them.

“Yes,” Alex agreed, feeling hungry himself.

Suddenly Reggie began cheering, and they turned to see Bobby celebrating as well as he made a final shot into the hoop. The guy working the booth let him choose from their ridiculously large stuffed animals, and he grabbed a giant puppy. Reggie’s excitement overcame him and once Bobby was facing his direction, Reggie butted his forehead against him, leaving Bobby blinking in confusion. Yikes, Alex thought. They were going to take a long time to sort things out.

Luke guided them all to his favorite hot dog vendor and they all sat at a table that was placed along a wall covered in posters. Alex positioned himself facing away from the table. Sometimes they liked to scout venues they hadn’t tried playing at yet, and it had been a while since they had come to the pier to check the wall. The missing person posters had become more numerous in their corner, which was a sad change. Alex saw one for the Viper Room and nearly had the impulse to cross himself reverently for the sake of Rivers Phoenix.

He unfortunately spotted a familiar face among the missing person posters. Luke’s parents were still hoping he would come back home. He peeked up at the rest of the guys, all bent over their food too far to pay attention, and decided he didn’t need to say anything. The whole thing with the Pattersons was touchy for all of them, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up.

Taking a bite into his own hot dog, Alex looked back up and caught the picture beneath Luke. It was a young boy, aged nine, with dark hair growing over his ears.

William was the only name associated with him, but it listed other things like ‘missing since 1988,’ and ‘last seen in Reno, NV’ and a physical description. Alex furrowed his brow and slowly chewed the rest of his bite as he lifted a hand to pat Reggie on the back.

“Hey, you - you don’t think that’s Willie, do you?” he asked quietly, pointing at the poster. Reggie looked over his shoulder at the kid in the picture. He returned a look of sympathy to Alex.

“Alex,” he said softly. “I know you miss him, buddy, but sometimes a kid is just a random kid. We’ve probably seen his poster every time we’ve been here and just never cared. I hope the little dude’s okay, though.” He glanced back at the picture before facing forward again.

“Yeah,” Alex huffed lightly. “You’re probably right.” He flipped himself around to face the rest of the guys at the table and finish his food, ignoring the pit in his chest.

Julie sat by her mom’s side, holding her hand gently and feeling her breathe as she rested soundly. She was going to hate leaving in the morning, but she only had to finish this leg of the tour and then she could be home. They had made plans together to make scrapbooks about her shows, and she wasn’t going to miss it. Her mom always knew how to motivate her, and she was really grateful for that.

One of the nurses entered the room and gave her a sweet smile. She had kind, squinting eyes and her black hair was tied into a bun that had since loosened up.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just making some checks, doing some cleaning, this and that,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Julie assured her. It was hardly the first time she’d been around while one of the nurses was doing their routines. Something about it had become calming, like it let her know that her mom was in good hands.

“She’s so proud of you,” the woman said among her movements.

Looking up, Julie felt her chest straining to hold the weight that had entered. She couldn’t help but take those words as heavy as they could come.

“I’m sure she tells you, but if you weren’t already making a name for yourself the entire hospital would know who you are by now anyway.”

“She talks a lot, huh?” Julie asked solemnly, a hint of a smile pulling the corners of her mouth.

The nurse raised her eyebrows.

“When she’s having a good day, she’s the best to be around.”

Julie nodded.

“That’s my mom,” she said quietly, smiling.

They both were quiet as the nurse continued about her work.

“Do you have any kids?” Julie asked.

The nurse chuckled.

“Quite a few, actually. I have six. Well, seven, but six at home with me.”

“Wow!” Julie couldn’t imagine handling that big of a family.

“Some of them are older than you, but my youngest is ten now. Most of them just go off and do their own thing or take care of each other.”

“Does the seventh have their own family?”

Pausing, the nurse seemed to blink strangely. She took in a deep breath and then went back to the sheet she had been folding.

“No, unfortunately, we lost him,” she said, the warmth she had spoken with earlier a little more withdrawn.

Julie immediately felt bad for asking, and she seemed to freeze at the tension.

“Don’t be sorry,” the nurse said. “I don’t mean he passed away. We don’t know where he is.”

A horrific realization swept over Julie as she realized there was something more terrifying than the death of a loved one. Not knowing where they were or if they were okay - it sounded like hell. A well of pity deepened inside her heart.

“Has it been a long time?” she asked tentatively.

The nurse nodded.

“It’s hard to let go,” she said, almost sounding like she was changing the subject. “But we all figure out something that helps us carry on.” She straightened with her clipboard in hand at Rose’s bedside.

“What did you find?” Julie asked, genuinely hoping it was a good answer.

The nurse’s eyes glistened as she smiled wistfully.

“Never forgetting,” she said. “But I think you’ve already found something that will help you.”

Julie cocked her head to the side, not understanding what she meant.

“My niece is a big fan, by the way,” the woman said, bowing her head down as she exited the room.

A small noise from her mom made Julie turn to see her eyes slowly opening up.

“Hey, mom,” she said softly, leaning closer to her.

Rose smiled and rubbed her thumb over Julie’s hand.

“Sweetie, hi,” she responded in a raspy voice. “You’re gonna play a mini show for that nurse’s niece, too, aren’t you?”

Julie chuckled. Of course she could overhear them.

“I’m thinking about it,” she told her.

Quietly shutting the front door behind him, Alex surveyed his family’s dark front room before tip-toeing up the stairs to his room. Thank goodness his dad wasn’t reading in the living room this time. He was always guaranteed to be caught when that happened. Once he got to his bedroom he took off his hat and fanny pack and was pulling his hoodie over his head when he heard a small knock. Dammit, he’d be so close.

Opening his door, he looked down to see Abby in her pajamas holding something behind her back.

“Abby, god,” he whispered. “I thought you were gonna be mom.”

She shyly shook her head. Her little blonde braids made small shuffling noises as they barely reached past her shoulders.

“What did you want?” Alex asked her.

“I wanted to show you my picture,” she told him quietly.

Any other night he would’ve sent her back to her room to show him in the morning, but her cuteness was a weapon and Alex was oddly weak tonight.

“Come here,” he said, nodding his head to let her inside. He patted the space beside him on his bed. She grinned as she sat cross-legged and held up the picture.

Alex could definitely identify himself, because she always drew him with his fanny pack on. There was also what appeared to be Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

“Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a fifth person in the picture.

“It’s your other friend. I don’t know their name. I heard you talking about them.”

Alex sat back and looked at her, not sure if he was mad about it or not. He tried to be cryptic in his conversations over the phone with the guys, especially if they brought up Willie, so how she picked up on anything was almost impressive.

“Do you not like it?” Abby wondered.

Shaking his head, Alex put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side.

“Abby, this is great!” he assured. “I just didn’t know you paid such good attention.”

“I have good hearing, you know,” she stated proudly. Alex chuckled and gave her a light noogie. “Heeeyy!!” She put up her hands to get him off of her.

“Look at this, though!” he said, pointing to the drawing. “You even got that he has long hair!”

“It’s a boy?” she exclaimed, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. “You have a crush on a boy?”

Alex’s jaw hung open a few seconds too long and immediately felt his body begin to shake and all words were caught in his throat.

“I know what that’s like, Alex,” Abby was saying, in her sassy way. It was enough to reboot his brain.

“Wait, how do you know that? You’re nine!” He looked at her like she was his odd sister again.

Abby simply shrugged.

“Not telling you about it,” was all she said. “And your boy sounds cute.”

The emotion that took over was too good to just be relief. Alex pulled her into a tight hug, seriously trying not to cry. They sat like that for a minute until he got afraid of crushing her.

“You’re a stinker,” he told her, rubbing her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, Alex,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.

“Alright, now go to bed, okay?” He let go of her and she hopped off the bed and out the door. Seeing it shut behind her, Alex climbed under the sheets and lay on his back, exhaling sharply. She had been kept out of that conversation long enough, he guessed. It barely even had to be one with her. He let a few tears leak out before aggressively wiping them off his face and turning on his side. Man, did he need some shut-eye.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #rose molina #viva las vegas #familiar #fiddlepickdouglas

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an-actual-angel · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.”You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

Chapter Description: Part 2 of your eventful day out with Collin.

(If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, either dm or reply to this post <3)

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Chapter 28 - The Lost Boy

Your name: submit What is this?

The Incident with Collin's ex had left a bitter taste in your mouth for most of the day. You clenched your fists anytime you thought back at how she and her friends had berated him. Part of you wanted to bring it up again to Collin but it seemed like he had enough of talking about her for today. You didn’t want to annoy him with it. Perhaps you could try again some other time.

Collin seemed a little annoyed by it but it didn’t seem to have shaken him up too much, he was quite happily scoffing food into his mouth, upon finally making it to the café you both had planned to visit. You watched him amused, your hands clasped around the warm porcelain coffee mug as you blew into the brown liquid, still too hot to drink. For a being that didn’t need food, Collin sure could put it away quick. You thought it was cute though.

“So,” You began to speak, removing the white mug from your lips. Collins eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“I kissed Connor this morning.” You felt weird telling this to Collin but you knew if this was going to work, open communication would be essential.

“Finally, took you both long enough.” He laughed, sitting back in his chair. “So, who’s the better kisser me or Connor?” A sly grin formed across his face.

“Definitely Connor.” You quipped, copying his go to wink.

“Lies.” Collin rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I’m only messing. You both are well, really great.” You shrug with a small giggle. You don’t think you could choose a favourite.

“Just admit you like me better, it’s okay I won’t tell.” Collin's foot brushes against your leg as he teases you. You raise your eyebrows to him in a mocking way as a response.

“I’m only kidding.” He chuckles before taking another swig of his drink.

When you both had finished your food, you set off into the city again, your hand linked around his arm as he leads the way.

“So, the museum then?” Collin asks, a little too unenthusiastically for your liking – making you stop and think.

“Why do I feel like your pandering to me?” You ask, pulling back on his arm slightly.

“Huh?”

“It’s just the museum doesn’t seem like a very ‘Collin’ thing. It’s not your style.”

“Hey, are you trying to say that I’m not smart, sophisticated and cultured?” He fakes being insulted, making you giggle slightly.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know,” he smiles. “You got me. Connor suggested taking you there.” He holds his hands up in defence, accompanied by a smirk.

“Well, I want to do something that you want to do. Not what you think I want, or Connor thinks rather. This is your last day off. What do YOU want to do?”

“Well, I could think of a few things” he grins, moving his hand lower down your back with flirtation. You bump your shoulder into him in response as if you’re telling him to grow up. Not that you would mind getting a little bit more intimate with him – it was just that you actually wanted to go do something that he would enjoy. That didn't involve getting frisky.

“Oh, I’m sure” you laugh it off. “But what do you actually want to do? Well, besides, drinking, partying and orgies.”

“Hey, I’m no longer a single man, No orgies for me, anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Forget I said that.” He snaps back, pointing his finger towards you. To which you just laugh, you cant tell if he's joking or not but... hey, you don’t judge.

But wait, what did he say? The realisation only dawns on you now.

“So no longer a single man huh?”

“Well, I was assuming by now… Y'know.” He shrugs blankly at you, like an idiot.

You shake your head and chuckle. “You telling Richard I’m your girlfriend doesn’t count as asking me out. You have to do it properly.”

Collin stops walking for a minute and plays with the sleeve of his leather jacket. LED flashing a sickly yellow for a moment, clearing his throat – even though he obviously did not need to – he starts to ask. “Uh, Will you -“

“Shouldn’t we wait for Connor?” You interrupt him.

“I can ask for the both of us.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“That’s a shame.” He responds even though he clearly seemed relieved that he didn’t have to ask you alone. Even though he pretty much knew what your response was going to be he was still nervous. Maybe it was too soon.

Most couples date for a few months before they make it official but you had been friends for such a long time now, does that make it okay? Where you weirded out by the power dynamic? Was being with two different people too much? Did you feel pressured into this relationship?

Collin's head felt like it was spinning, he tried his best to hide it behind his smile. Hopefully, he could maintain the blue of his LED, if he really focused he could keep it blue. – something he taught himself to do a few years back. It took a lot of concentration but it was possible.

“Anyway.” Your voice pulls him back into reality. “Back to my main point, before we get side-tracked again.” You turn to look at him, finger poking him in the center of his chest. “What do you want to do today?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He looks around with a clueless expression. Apart of you wonders if he’s ever eve been asked this question before.

“Maybe we could go to the park? Oh!” his face sparks up for a moment. “I have a Frisbee in my car.”

“Sounds great!” You chime back. Smiling at how enthusiastic he had become over a Frisbee.

Both of you had spent a good few hours in the park. Just walking around, playing Frisbee and talking the biggest load of nonsense. You even got to meet some nice dogs, which is always a bonus.

Because it was just you and Collin, you both got some horrendously unhealthy, greasy food from a food truck but damn it was good. You both had a laugh at the thought of what Connor would say about it. The hours had passed way too quickly. Soon it was time to head home, but something stopped you, the sound of a child crying.

You almost sent Collin into a full-blown panic when you had disappeared out of his sight to go investigate it. Thankfully he spotted you before you had fully immersed yourself into the trees to seek the kid out.

Collin approached you in a light jog to keep up only to find you down on your knees talking to a small weeping boy. A human boy.

Before Collin could complain about you running off you had reached out to pull Collins hand down in order for him to be crouching to talk to the little boy as well.

“He lost his family.” Your face turned to Collin.

Collin briefly let his LED slip back to the yellow colour he had been trying so hard to hide that day. Immediately it caught the kid’s attention.

“I don’t want to go to the pound!” he blurts out, tears filling up his eyes. “Davey said it’s scary there.”

You hush the little boy before offering him your hand. “You won’t have to go near that place, I promise.”

He slowly places his tiny little dirt-covered hand in your own. You stand to your feet and help the little boy up.

“Can you help?” You whisper to Collin.

His lips go thin for a moment as he thinks. “Not without taking him to the pound to get his chip checked.”

Your eyebrows turn up in worry, not wanting to break your promise to the kid. “isn’t there something you can do?”

“Well, human matters aren’t in my division of work. I can’t do anything but Richard might be able to pull some strings.”

“Are you serious?” You wince at the thought of getting Richard involved.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for even suggesting it but he does have the city in his pocket basically.” He grumbles, scratching the back of his head. “He’s got connections, he could get a chip scanner sent out here. We wouldn’t even have to leave the park.”

“That would be preferable.” You sigh. “Would he even agree?”

“Only one way to find out.” Collin lifts his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call him, you walk the kid around the park, see if you can find his family anywhere.”

You nod and take the child’s hand again, following Collins instructions.

___

You had no luck finding the child’s family. The sun was starting its descent, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange clouds.

“It looks like ice cream.” You smile down at the little boy’s observation. “What’s your favourite Ice cream?” You ask, in an attempt to keep the child entertained.

“Strawberry!” He perks up in glee.

“I’ve never tried strawberry ice cream before.”

“What!” The Child almost seems offended by your confession. “Lady, you haven’t lived.”

“Is that so?” You giggle.

“He’s got a point.” Collin was quick to quip back.

The three of you were standing outside the park gates, it was closing up soon. At the rate this was going you would either be forced to take the kid to the pound or back to the apartment. Neither of which was ideal and would probably scare the poor kid out of his wits.

Finally, a familiar sleek black car had pulled up beside you. The doors swing open to reveal Richard, stepping out with a small white device in hand. the child’s hand wrapped tighter around yours as Richard came closer. You couldn’t blame the kid, Richard did look intimidating as hell as he approached, like some type of vampiric villain.

“Arm.” He ordered, hand extending out to the boy which cause you to grimace in response. Richard noticed immediately. With a roll of his eyes, he then squats down to the boy's eye level. He holds his hand out again and asks in a more gentle tone.

“May I please see your arm? I need to scan it so that we can call your family.”

The little boy looks up to you with curious eyes and you nod to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. The boy reluctantly rolls up his sleeve and offers his arm out to Richard.

With a small beep from the device, you had the families contact details. The lady – his mother, sounded like she was in hysterics over the phone. It didn’t take too long for her and her partner to show up, thanking and praising you all for finding their boy. When they had left you made brief eye contact with Richard and thanked him. He simply nodded and got back into his car.

---

Upon arriving home you had to fill Connor in on the eventful day you both had. He seemed just as pissed as you were about the whole drama with Collins ex. He was very proud of the both of you as well as a little shocked at Richard – and his willingness to help - with "the case of the lost child."

Thank goodness that all got sorted. I thought we were going to have to bring that poor kid home with us. That would be so bad.”

“No it wouldn’t, you were great with him.” Collin's hand grazes against your arm.

“Well, I meant it would be scary for the child. Being without his family.”

The Boys both nod in agreement.“I guess kids are lucky that way though.” You sigh. “Android couples always want to adopt little kids, raise them, treat them like their own. Probably only humans that get to experience family life. For some reason, I wasn’t good enough for that.”

Both of the boys go silent.

Oh jeez, you didn’t mean to dump all of that on them in the middle of a casual conversation. Will you ever learn when to stop talking?

“I’m sorry you never got to experience that.” Connor eventually speaks up breaking the silence.

“It’s okay. I'm sorry I shouldn’t have gone off of that tangent. I’m pretty lucky now though. I have you guys, you're both pretty great.” You smile, placing your head on Connor's shoulder and placing your hand on top of Collins.

“And were both grateful to have you.” Connor says placing a kiss on the top of your head. The three of you sit quietly for a while, Connor resting his chin on your head and Collin stroking his fingers down your hand, playing and rubbing on each one of your individual fingers.

While the room was silent you had your suspicions that Collin and Connor where communicating with each other via their minds. That weird mind communication that androids could do with other androids within their proximity. You can usually tell when this happens because Collin sometimes forgets to hide his facial expressions when he does it. Also, their LEDs slightly waver when they communicate this way.

Finally, Collin chooses to speak out first. “So I suppose now is as good as time as any.” He begins.

You adjust yourself to sit up slightly while still leaning against Connor.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Will you be our girlfriend?”

Collin looked so serious, almost worried that you’d say no. Connor, on the other hand, seemed pretty calm, casually playing with a lock of your hair. You leaned back to look at Connor.

“What he said.” Connor smiles back teasingly.

“Well, I'd have to think about it. You turn back around and look down at your nails before a smile cracks across your face. “of course I will dummy.” You giggle before leaning up and pressing a small kiss against Collin's lips. Connor rubbing small circles on your arm, waiting for his turn. When You and Collin both pull away from each other Connor reaches up his hand to guide your face towards him, stealing a kiss as well.

You hoped every moment could be this sweet.

___

Chapter 29 - Our Time is Running Out

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. What on earth possessed him to go out of his way for a human? That little minx, the cruel temptress had him wrapped around his finger.

He could have kept his pride, refused. But the thought of you upset with him (even more so than you already were) was completely unbearable.

So here he found himself, on a Sunday night, travelling across town, calling in a favour from an old acquaintance just so that he could borrow his chip reader. And for what? Some lost human that you had came across in the park? While you were on a date with his brother?

Richard was disgusted at himself.

Oh how he tried to pull back from you, to forget, to move on. But to no avail. Your laugh, your smile, your scent. It was frivolous. You had taken over his mind like a virus to his system. Oh, how it made him loath himself for feeling this way.

“You will be the death of me.” He sighed looking down at the chip reader sitting in his passenger seat.

You wicked thing.

He hoped the drive would at least clear his mind, help him keep his cool for when you meet again. He found it hard to control himself recently. He had never had this problem before. Perhaps he could only blame himself. He played with fire, allowing himself to get close to you. Now it was time to suffer from the burns.

Why did you have to kiss him, why did he allow it in the first place? It was stupid the whole thing! You were a human. It was unheard of. The only reason he adopted you was to prove a point to Connor, how did this all get so messed up? Maybe he was too arrogant. He was sure at the time that this would have been the best way to get through to his brother, not drive them apart. He wanted to save Connor from his own delusions. But what happened instead was unthinkable.

Richard caught feelings for the human.

The android and the human? It sounded ridiculous.

He braced himself as he drove closer to the destination, not long now. He was just going to get in then get out and try his best to avoid eye contact. Then he saw you. Looking as beautiful as ever, the wind delicately sweeping between your hair. Standing outside the park gates with his brother and a small little boy.

Wait, It was a child that was lost?

Richard pulled his car up beside the gates. He shook his head taking in a deep breath – which he didn’t need – before finally grabbing the scanner and stepping out.

When your eyes fell on him he felt his thirium pump start to rattle in his chest, he tried to ignore it as he approached the three of you. Swept up in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the little boy beginning to cower behind you.

“Arm.” Richard ordered the boy.

He was confused for a moment, why didn’t the child comply? But then his eyes briefly caught yours. You didn’t look pleased.

Shit.

He looked down at the boy then finally realised . Oh. He’s scared?

It’s okay, play it off…

He then knelt down. He could see the boy was still unsure of him so Richard reached out his hand and asked in a gentle tone. “May I please see your arm? I need to scan it so that we can call your family.”

When the boy finally offered his arm, Richard took it and scanned his chip, trying to hide his own shaky uneven feeling from showing in his movements. In an instant, the screen on the device flashed with the boy’s information.

Richard stood up, grabbing Collin’s phone straight out of his hand. He pressed the phone against the screen and gave it back to Collin.

“It should be ringing his family now.”

Collin nodded before holding the phone up to his ear. He moved a little bit away from you, Richard and the boy to speak to the family.

Although, the three of you could hear whoever it was – a female – blubbering down the phone.

You and Richard stood in silence while Collin talked on the phone.

“Don’t worry your family will be here soon.” Richard heard you whisper to the small boy. If his heart could combust it would have at that moment. He didn’t know how to deal with this. How to deal with you. He hated this feeling.

The minutes you waited for the family to arrive felt like hours to Richard. He stood with his arms crossed in silence while you and Collin kept the little boy entertained.

When the family finally arrived Richard was so relieved, he could finally leave. He supposed sure, it was good the child was returned home but mainly he wanted to get the fuck out of this situation as soon as he could.

After the family had given their thanks and praise to the three of you, Richard was on a mission to get back into his car as fast as possible. Before he reached for the handle, he did make brief eye contact with you.

You thanked him. He didn’t know how else to respond so he just nodded in return.

Getting back into his car he watched as you and Collin walked away – presumably to Collin's car – holding hands with each other. Richard cursed himself under his breath before driving off.

___

The next day Richard immersed himself fully within his work, something he usually did when his emotions got in the way. Emotions were so messy. he knew he had to return home soon, something he wasn’t looking forward to. His brothers were usually sat about cooing after you, the human, in HIS house. Maybe his karma was finally catching up with him.

When he arrived home it was quiet. It dawned on him, Collin was back to work again. it was probably just him and you in the apartment at the moment. His initial reaction was to run into his room or office to avoid you but a voice in his head said, ‘no. this is enough. No more hiding.’ He had to talk to you.

Gathering whatever courage he had he straightened himself out before heading into the livingroom. There you were sat cutely curled up in a ball on the couch. Your eyes lazily made their way towards him.

“Hello.” Richard spoke stiffly, trying to look as stoic as he could.

“Hi.” You spoke softly.

Okay, she doesn’t seem too annoyed with me…

Richard knew he had to be careful with his words around you. He knew you wouldn’t eat up the bullshit that he fed to everyone else in his life, no. You were different.

“So, you’re dating my brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“Both of them?”

You nod again in response. Richard bites his lip and sits down on the couch opposite you.

“I acknowledge that we had a rough patch and I apologise for it.” Richard begins speaking looking down at his hands. “I guess I just didn’t realize what we had was over.”

“We had something?” You asked. Richard's face looks up at you in confusion, not understanding what you meant.

“You see, I might be mistaken but I thought in order to ‘have something’ you would have to have, I don’t know, an element of respect for each other? Y’know treating your partner or person of interest as a person or an equal.” You spat back at him.

“It’s more complicated than that, I-” Richard tried to explain himself before you cut him off.

“Listen.” You begin. “I know you have some weird God complex so you can’t wrap your head around it but Connor and Collin treat me like a person. They care about me.”

“I care!” Richard stands up, his eyebrows turning upwards as his voice raises slightly.

You scoff a little. “Do you? Or are you just saying that to get your own way?”

“This is just, all very new to me.” Richard tries to explain further, holding his hand to his chest. “It’s difficult. You’re a human and my people they-”

“Oh grow up.” You finally stand to your feet and begin to walk away from him.

“I’m sorry!” He blurts out, causing you to stop. You turn to him and notice his LED now red.

“For what?” You ask. Maybe a glimmer of hope for him caught in your eyes.

But Richard doesn’t speak. His mouth fumbles around like he’s trying to catch his words but he says nothing.

“Hmm, I thought so.” You sigh and turn back to walk away. Biting your lip you shake your head. He doesn’t care, he’s just trying to control me again.

You will suck the life out of me ~

_________

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Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Muse's song 'Time is running out.' Shout out to AO3 user @DarkBlueChocolate for the chapter idea!

Taglist: @connorsdimple @crushedtincan @clussysposts @iris-suoh

#fic: pretty baby #detroit: become human #Detroit: BH #dbh fanfic #detroit become human fan fic #detroit become human #dbh au #rk800 x reader #rk800 x reader x rk900 #rk900 x reader #rk800-60 x reader #rk800-60 #rk900 #rk800 60 #My writing

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