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softspideys · 4 years ago

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The Perfect Date

summary: tom makes it his mission to take you on the perfect first date. the only problem is, you have no idea.

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a valentine’s day fic but then I forgot about it. oops. plz enjoy anyway

Tom had just started the last lap of Wario’s Gold Mine when he heard Zendaya ask, “Got any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

He tried not to pay attention to your answer, focusing on keeping his lead, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes flickered over to where you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently circling your finger around the rim of your wine glass.

You straightened up at her question, scoffing. “Are you kidding? When’s the last time you saw me date anybody, Z?”

“Hey,” she said, pointing at you accusingly. “Don’t even start with me. I set you up with people all the time, it’s not my fault you’re so picky.”

“It’s called having standards,” you fired back. “Sorry I’m not interested in pretentious jerks who insist on mansplaining Tarantino films to me over their venti-soy-no-foam latte with a triple shot of espresso.”

Zendaya cackled, and though he couldn’t see your face, Tom could tell you were smiling too; your words had no real bite to them.

“Seriously though,” you continued with a sigh. “I think I might just give up dating for a while. Lately it feels like my only options are either crappy blind dates or going through a sleazy hookup app for some mediocre sex. I can’t remember the last time I got properly asked out and went on, like, a nice date.”

As soon as you said that, the gears started turning in Tom’s head. And then he got an idea so good he almost forgot about the race entirely, until Harrison hit him with a red shell and passed him, sailing over the finish line in first place.

“Yes!” Harrison cheered, causing you and Zendaya to look over, startled. “Finally, I won!”

“Wow,” Zendaya said, amused. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever lost in Mario Kart, Holland.”

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you?” you asked teasingly as Harrison got up and did a victory dance.

Tom normally hated losing, but he was too preoccupied at the moment to care. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just . . . a little rusty, I guess.”

You raised your eyebrows, but then Zendaya challenged Harrison to a rematch, and the two of them immediately started a new grand prix while you called dibs on the winner. With the distraction in place, Tom had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

The four of you had been friends for years, but he’d always harbored something of a crush on you. He’d never tried to push the boundaries or pursue you because he liked your relationship as it was already, and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But this would be different. This was harmless. He was simply going to show you how you deserved to be treated, give you a good date to remember among the bad ones.

Nothing else. Right?

* * *

You eyed the huge bouquet of roses your coworker had on her desk and tried not to feel too envious. She’d made a big show of bringing them in this morning and inviting everyone who walked by to smell them, going on and on about how her girlfriend had surprised her for Valentine’s Day yesterday.

So what, you thought to yourself. I can get myself flowers whenever I want; I don’t need a holiday to have an excuse to do it. It really didn’t make you feel better though.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, making you jump a mile. You looked up. Tom was peering over the wall of your cubicle, which was . . . unexpected. He hardly ever visited you at work.

“Oh, hi,” you said. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“Yeah, you were totally zoned out,” Tom said. “Good thing I brought caffeine.” He placed a to-go cup from your favorite coffee shop on your desk. You saw the order written on the side; he’d gotten it exactly right.

“Wow,” you said, surprised but grateful. “Thanks.” You’d already had coffee this morning, but clearly it was shaping up to be a two-cup type of day. You took a careful sip and felt better already.

“No problem.” Tom followed your line of vision to your coworker’s desk. “Pretty flowers.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a little quietly. You cleared your throat. “So, what’s up? Did we have plans today or something?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, “but that’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He seemed nervous, which in turn made you nervous.

“Okay,” you said, giving him your full attention.

“So . . . are you doing anything this Friday night?”

It was only Monday. You thought for a second before shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to have dinner? With me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. That was it? “Oh. Sure.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes widen the slightest bit. “Really? I mean, great. Cool.” He scratched his nose. “So, Friday at six o’clock, then? I’ll text you the name of the place?”

“Sounds good,” you said. He seemed excited, though you couldn’t figure out why. You got dinner with him, Harrison, and Zendaya at least once a week.

“Alrighty,” Tom said, swinging his arms a little and nodding. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. See you Friday.”

“See you,” you said. Did he really come all the way to your office to ask you this in person instead of just texting you like he normally would? Maybe he’d been nearby or something. You watched him leave, mostly confused but also kind of endeared.

“Was that your boyfriend?” your coworker asked, subtly adjusting her flowers again.

You quickly shook your head, turning back to your computer and taking another sip of your coffee. “Oh, no. Just a friend.”

As Tom left your office, he allowed himself to do a small fist-pump. Getting you to agree was the hardest part. Now came the slightly-easier-but-still-hard part: making sure he gave you the best first date ever.

* * *

Something strange was going on with Tom. You first realized it when you brought up the dinner on Friday to Zendaya and she had no clue what you were talking about.

“Tom didn’t invite you?”

“Nope.” She popped the “p.”

“Huh.” You chewed your lip. “That’s . . . weird. Maybe he figured I’d just tell you about it. And I guess you don’t really need an invitation anyway . . . do you think he invited Harrison?”

“I don’t know.” You were on the phone, so you couldn’t see Zendaya’s face, but it kind of sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Maybe he wants it to be just the two of you.”

“Maybe.” It was rare, but it wasn’t like you never spent time with just Tom or Harrison. You couldn’t remember the last time you had dinner with either of them one-on-one, though. This seemed . . . different. “But I’m sure he won’t mind if you guys show up,” you said with a shrug.

Now Zendaya did laugh. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “I think I’m supposed to babysit my niece and nephew anyway. You guys have fun.”

Then there was Tom himself. You hadn’t seen him in person since Monday, but he’d been texting you random questions all week:

Do you prefer a casual or an elegant ambiance?

How many candles on a table is too many? Or do you think overhead lamps are better?

Oyster bars . . . yes/no?

You answered all of them with increasing bemusement, but any time you asked why he would mysteriously change the subject. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something you were missing here.

Finally, he sent you the name of the restaurant on Friday morning: Soul & Persona.

You’d never heard of it, so you decided to look it up. One glance at their website told you this place wasn’t like the casual restaurant-and-bars you and your friends usually frequented. This was fancy. Clicking over to the menu, you inhaled sharply at the prices written next to the items. Luckily, today was payday.

You arrived at the restaurant shortly before six. Another person was already standing outside, and as you got closer you realized it was Tom. Two things about that were already weird: one, he was normally notoriously late to everything; and two, he was holding a bouquet of roses in one hand that were so big they nearly obstructed his face.

He didn’t notice you approaching, busy frowning at something on his phone. “Hey,” you said at last, making him jump.

“Oh! Hey!” He cleared his throat, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I mean—good evening.” He did a strange little bow before thrusting the flowers at you. “These are for you.”

“Wow,” you said, taking them carefully. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look really nice.”

You were glad you researched the restaurant in advance, because the jeans and t-shirt combo you’d originally planned on wearing would definitely not have been appropriate here.

“So do you,” you said. He did: he was wearing slacks and a nice dress shirt under a jacket, his hair neatly combed.

“Thanks. Should we go in?” he asked. You nodded, and he hurried to open the door, ushering you inside. It was crowded, which made you a little worried. How long would the wait time be?

But Tom went right up to the hostess stand. “Hi,” he said, “we have a reservation for two at six; the name is Tom?”

She looked at her book and nodded. “You can follow me right this way.” She led you to a quiet corner of the restaurant and seated you at a table by the window. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Here,” Tom said, pulling your chair out before you could sit down. Again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“This place is crazy nice,” you said, looking around as the hostess placed a wine list on the table.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, a little distractedly. “Um. So. Do you prefer to work in a team or alone?”

You blinked. “What? Where’d that come from?”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his collar like he was nervous. “I—I dunno. Just making conversation.”

“Oo-kay,” you said with a laugh. “Well, I haven’t seen you since you blessed my office with your presence on Monday. How was your week? Didn’t you have to give a presentation yesterday?”

“Yes, and one of the board members literally fell asleep during it,” Tom said, wrinkling his nose.

He seemed to loosen up after that, and the conversation flowed naturally from then on as you talked about your plans for the weekend, your friends, your families, and any other random thoughts that occurred to you.

For dinner you tried a pasta dish while Tom got steak, and you each had the soup of the day for an appetizer. Your knowledge of wine was limited to whatever was cheapest when you went to the liquor store, but Tom had apparently become an expert overnight: he asked the waiter all kinds of questions about their reds vs. their whites before finally ordering a bottle for the two of you to share.

All in all, it was an enjoyable dinner. You always had fun with Tom, of course, but you rarely got to spend time with just him. And though you normally stayed away from expensive places like this one, you had to admit the food was delicious and the ambiance made you feel very sophisticated.

“Can I get either of you some coffee or dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared your plates. You’d never been one to say no to that, but Tom jumped in before you could open your mouth.

“No thank you,” he said quickly. “Just the check please.” Then he looked at you. “I thought maybe we could walk to that bookstore you like? The one with the bakery in it? We could—we could get dessert there and browse.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool.” He sounded relieved.

The waiter brought out the bill and Tom grabbed it as soon as he set it on the table. “What are you doing?” you protested. There was normally an agreement among your friends that everyone paid for their own meals when you went out to dinner.

“I’m paying,” he insisted, waving you off as you fruitlessly tried to put your own debit card down.

“At least let me Venmo you for my half.”

“Nope.”

“Tom!”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He wouldn’t even let you see how much the meal cost.

You could tell he wasn’t going to budge for whatever reason, so you had no choice but to relent. “If you’re sure,” you said, watching him smugly sign the receipt. You made sure to grab your flowers before you got up and followed him out of the restaurant.

The bookstore you liked was a few blocks away, but you didn’t mind the walk. The air was warm but balmy, refreshing on your face. “That was amazing,” Tom said.

“It was,” you agreed. “I’m convinced they put actual crack in that pasta sauce. It was otherworldly.”

He laughed before he asked, a little hesitantly, “So are you . . . having a nice time?”

You looked over at him questioningly. “Of course I am. But I always have a nice time with you.”

“Good,” he said quietly, nodding. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Tom said immediately. “I just wanted to make sure. So, what are some of your pet peeves?”

“What is it with you and these questions?” Thankfully, you arrived at the bookstore and were spared from answering.

One of your favorite things about hanging out with Tom was that you didn’t necessarily need to be attached at the hip or in constant conversation in order to have fun. As soon as you entered he made a beeline for the True Crime section while you went to look at the new releases.

It was nice to just browse on your own for a while, and you ended up buying a book you’d been wanting to read ever since it came out. Tom was still perusing the shelves after you checked out, so you sneakily went up to the bakery counter and bought some dessert.

He found you sitting at a table in the cafe, reading your new book. “What’s this?” He gestured to the two pieces of cake and cups of decaf coffee on the table in front of you. “You should’ve let me pay!”

You’d been anticipating this, so you merely rolled your eyes. “Cry about it. You paid for dinner; it was the least I could do.”

“That’s not how this works,” Tom objected, but he reluctantly sat down and pulled his cake towards him anyway. The two of you discussed your books while you ate, and you tried not to act like you were eyeing his slice the entire time.

He noticed, of course. “You wanna try?”

You nodded sheepishly. You expected him to push the plate towards you, but instead he scooped a piece up onto his fork and held it out. “Here.” A little surprised, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed it to you. For some reason it felt oddly intimate.

He was watching you expectantly as you chewed. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, swallowing. “Really good.”

It was getting late and the store was closing soon, so you left after finishing your coffees. Usually this was when you’d call it a night and go home, but this time you felt no strong desire to. So when Tom started walking along the river instead of heading back towards the restaurant, you didn’t mind at all, falling into step beside him.

The night sky was clear, giving you a breathtaking view of dozens of stars. Hardly anyone else was around, and the river below was quiet and calm. It was like you were suspended in time. You couldn’t remember ever feeling so peaceful.

Tom’s hand bumped yours as you walked. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but then it happened again, and this time he laced his fingers through yours.

For some reason that was what made everything suddenly fall into place, for you to finally put two and two together and realize what was going on.

Oh my God.

“Tom,” you said hesitantly, shattering the comfortable silence between you.

“Yeah?”

“Is this . . . a date?”

He stopped walking, forcing you to do the same. Under the soft glow of the streetlights you could see he was staring at you. “Wait,” he said slowly. “This whole time . . . you didn’t know?”

Now that he’d basically just confirmed it, everything started to make sense: coming all the way to your office just to ask you to dinner, bringing you coffee, making reservations at a fancy restaurant, paying for the meal—

You were on a date and you hadn’t even realized.

“Oh, God,” was all you could say. You almost wanted to laugh, though nothing about this was even remotely funny. It was like you’d been hit over the head with a brick.

How could you not have known? It should’ve been obvious when he paid for the meal; no, when you realized you’d be eating at such a fancy place; no, when he showed up randomly on Monday, brought you coffee, and fucking asked you to dinner.

You both seemed to realize at the same time that you were still holding hands, and he quickly dropped it and stepped back. For the first time since you’d met, the air between the two of you was awkward. “I—I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”

“I should’ve known,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m so stupid, I just didn’t think—” You didn’t finish your sentence. You honestly couldn’t figure out why you didn’t realize it sooner.

Because he’s your friend, a voice in the back of your head reminded you. He’s your friend and he’s never expressed any interest in you before, not like this.

That was true. You’d always thought Tom was handsome, and maybe early on in your friendship you’d fantasized about him once or twice. But he always treated you normally, never outwardly showing any sign of wanting more.

“You’re not stupid,” he said immediately. “I should’ve made it more clear.”

“I’m just confused, I guess,” you said carefully. “I mean . . . why now? And why . . . me?”

He exhaled. “I overheard you the other day when you and Z were talking, and you were saying something like . . . you hadn’t been properly asked out and taken on a nice date in a while. So I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. You didn’t know what to say to that, but he seemed to take your silence as a cue to keep going.

“That’s why I came to your office, to ask you in person instead of doing it over text or whatever. And I saw you looking at those flowers your coworker had, so I bought you some. And I picked this restaurant because it was nice but also because it was near the bookstore. And I memorized some first-date questions in case our conversation got boring, but I think that probably wasn’t necessary.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And now that I’m saying all of this I realize how weird it sounds. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. His previous words were still echoing in your head. I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.

He’d taken the time to think about all the things you liked and used that knowledge to plan the Perfect Date. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something so kind, so thoughtful, so . . . romantic. Did this mean what you thought it meant?

Of course, the only way you were able to translate all of this was with, “Wow.”

But then he added, “And—and I didn’t do all of this because I thought it would lead to a second date or anything like that. I only—”

“Wait,” you interrupted, your stomach plummeting. This conversation was giving you whiplash. “So you . . . don’t like me?”

“Huh?”

“You did all of this . . . just because? You don’t actually want to go on a date with me?” Now you were more confused than ever, and a little hurt beneath that.

Tom’s eyes widened. “No! Well yes, but . . . no. Wait.” He took a deep breath. Now or never, right? “I do like you, but this was separate from all that. I only meant that I wasn’t expecting anything from this. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

You nodded slowly, exhaling. “Okay. So . . . what if I told you that I did have a good time, that I like you too, and I want go out with you again?”

Tom blinked at you owlishly for a second before his face split into a huge grin, one you were sure your own was mirroring. “Then . . . I’d say . . . same. To all of it.”

“Good,” you said, stepping closer. “In fact, I think this has almost been the perfect first date.”

He paused. “Wait, almost? What would make it perfect?” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking a little panicked. You laughed, reaching up and cupping his jaw.

“It has to end with a good-night kiss, doesn’t it?”

Tom relaxed, his hands finding their way to your waist. “Oh. Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

The two of you were still smiling as you kissed, and Tom lifted one of his hands to do a silent, sneaky fist-pump.

Mission: success.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 5 years ago

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Lust

Summary: When August finds himself in a little town in the UK after his last meeting with Hunt he needed to lay low. And what better way to lay low than “dating” the town’s most favorite preschool teacher. Though with time he grew bored. That was until her Daughter visited them for her summer break....

Pairing: August Walker x Katherine Fraser, August Walker x Adelaide Fraser

Wordcount: 4.5k

Warnings: Step Father/ Step Daughter, Age Gap, Dom vibes, smut (Oral; male and female receiving; unprotected sex), Masturbation, Voyeurism, choking, infidelity

A/N: This has been on my mind for a while. A new take on every porn ever lol Please read the warnings. No one in this story is actually related to each other. It’s just my brain running on overdrive

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

“John? John, are you awake? I have to go…” Katherine didn’t want to wake him, but she knew how much he hated it when he woke up and there was no one around. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his brows furrowed, before his blue eyes snapped open.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“It’s just after 5. I’ll be back late today.”

“Okay.” He yawned.

“My daughter will be coming from university today for her break. I told her that you would be here.”

She saw John nod while turning towards her, the bed sheet slipping just enough to make her consider calling in sick. He smirked at her, fully knowing where her mind just went.

“I’ll be here waiting. Got some work to do anyways.”

“Her name is…”

“Adelaide and she’s a little shy but you told her about me, yes. I know. Now go before I rip that dress off.” He growled seeing her grin, before she leaned down and kissed him goodbye.

It had never been August's plan to go to the UK after this… unfortunate event with Hunt. Thank fuck he got out of there before the helicopter went down. Everything was ruined. Everyone he had played for years knew who he really was. So he had to lay low. He saw that the CIA pronounced him as dead. They really should know better by now….

Meeting Katherine in a bar and her falling head over heels for him, well John, seemed to be just what he needed. Nobody would suspect the helpful new boyfriend of the town's most loveable preschool teacher to be one of the most wanted men in the world.

And he got some pussy out of it, so it really could be worse. But August was bored. Sure he now had another name and was slowly building himself a new identity to pursue his plan. But he missed the thrill. The adrenaline when he was about to pull a trigger.

Groaning he pushed himself out of bed, walking towards the shower. Maybe Adelaide would bring some kind of excitement into his currently boring life. He never had been a Step Dad before...

“Oh my god. Thank you so so much.” Adelaide ended the call.

“You got it?” Brandon asked her. She smiled as she looked at him and couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him.

“That was Mr. Grant. I got the job. I’m gonna be working for the MI6 after my graduation.”

“Fuck… That’s hot. My girlfriend is gonna be a secret Agent.” He grinned.

“That means I get to learn more ways to kick your ass.” She smirked.

“I’d like to see you try.” Brad challenged her. “We’re here. And you are sure it’s okay if I stay until the weekend?”

“I asked my mom. She’s okay with it. Her boyfriend should be home….” Adelaide said, turning her head. Her childhood home was still the only place she really felt like home in. There still was the apple tree in the front yard she had planted with her father when she was little. At least that’s what her mom told her. He had passed away when she was only five years old, and the memories seemed to face the hold she got.

“That’ her boyfriend?” Brad asked and she looked around finding a man doing push ups on the grass. He looked tall, his gray muscle shirt drenched with sweat and clinging to his back. She couldn’t see his face only the dark curly hair, clinging to his skin.

“Wow…” She gasped, letting her gaze wander over the body of the man who now knelt on the grass, giving her a perfect view of his perfect ass. He turned around and she was met with the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“I think you’re drooling, Addy.” Brad teased making her shake her head, coming out of her trance. Was it hot in here?

“Fuck you.” She hissed. “Sure when?” He asked, making her shake her head and chuckle.

August grinned to himself as he saw the girl sitting in the car. Of course he had noticed her starring. She looked just like her mother, but younger. He felt his cock twitch only thinking about how perfect and soft her tits…

“You must be John.” His train of thoughts was interrupted as Adelaide walked over to him. He rubbed the non existent dirt from his pants before he got up.

“And you must be Adelaide. Your mother has told me so much about you.” August smiled. “Sorry. I thought you’d be here later. I was planning to take a shower and not be sweaty when I meet you.” He lied.

“Oh… Oh that’s okay. And please call me Addy.” She looked up at him.

“Do you need help getting your stuff in?” He asked.

“Oh no. Brad is gonna help. Brad?” She turned around and August allowed his eyes to wander down her body just a bit before she turned around.

A boy not older than 22, laid his arms around Adelaide’s shoulders introducing himself as Brad. Her boyfriend. For some reason August felt a rage deep inside of him as he watched him touch Adelaide. Like he owned her.

“Well… I’m gonna take a shower. You staying for lunch, Brad?” August asked.

“Actually I’m staying till monday. Her mom told us it was okay…”

“Oh. Sure. Well… I’m gonna grab something to cook for lunch after I shower, and let you two settle in.” August smiled before he turned and walked inside.

To the outside August looked like the perfect suburban boyfriend. Getting groceries and making lunch for his girlfriend's daughter and boyfriend. But August was everything but that.

The unmistakable sounds of quiet moaning reached his ears and he felt himself getting hard again. It’s not like he hadn’t touched himself in the shower thinking of just how tight Adelaide’s pussy would feel around his cock.

Quietly he walked closer to her room. The moaning got a little louder, the closer he got and he rubbed his hand over his already hard cock. They hadn’t even been home for two hours and they were already fucking. Oh to be young again... He knew she had just turned 21. He would run a full background check after lunch.

He stopped at the door feeling his pants getting uncomfortable tight as Brad moaned loudly, obviously close to finish.

“Cum with me.” August heard him whisper and Adeleaide moaned. Faster than August anticipated Brad groaned and finished and Adelaide whimpered like the worst porn actress he had ever heard.

August waited a moment then the shower at the ensuite could be heard. He was about to turn around when he heard a quiet moan again. He decided that it was now or never as he slowly turned the door knob and opened the door. Of course Adelaide startled as she saw the door opening. About to cover herself up, she saw John standing in the door, his arms crossed, his eyebrow raised. She was just about to say something when he nodded his head once towards the bathroom and then put his index finger in front of his mouth, to tell her to be quiet. Confused, she looked at him letting her eyes wander, seeing the prominent outline of his cock through his pants. She swallowed. He nodded once at her as if to challenge her and against all odds, fully knowing that this was her mothers boyfriend who was standing fully clothed in front of her, she let her legs drop open and started to touch herself.

It took all his willpower for August to not fuck her into the mattress and just stand there, watching her fingerfuck herself. The sounds she was making drove him insane. The shower went off, just when she orgasmed. Seeing her look at him, her eyes full of lust he winked once at her before he closed the door quietly. Grinning he went to the bedroom. He had to take care of his boner. And… he had to make a plan. A plan on how to fuck his girlfriends daughter without losing his girlfriend.

“John….” Katherine moaned loudly. August had her on all fours in front of her as he pumped into her. He had her hair wrapped around his hand riding her like the whore she was.

“Yes… Scream my name….” He groaned, slapping her ass again. She whimpered as her body began to shake her orgasm taking her by surprise. This was the first time since Adelaide got here that they had the house to themselves, as she dropped her boyfriend off at his house and August didn’t even wait for her to be out of the driveway as he had pressed her against the wall and his cock buried deep inside of her cunt.

“Cum inside me….” She moaned.

“Fuck…” He growled, thrusting hard as he came pumping his cum inside of her. She collapsed down into the mattress and sighed.

“That was… insane. I love it.” She turned around to lay on her back. August looked at her, smirking, before he slapped her thigh.

“Gotta use the time I can make you scream for me.” He got off the bed.

Downstairs Adelaide was sitting at the kitchen island, her panties uncomfortably damp. It was wrong. The man was her mothers boyfriend. Some would say her Step Dad. But there was something about him that seemed to consume her whole mind. She couldn’t look him in the eye ever since their first… encounter. And the worst part was that she caught herself thinking about him. Yesterday she even imagined that it John who was fucking her instead of Brad. She ignored the way he looked at her, when her mom wasn’t looking. Letting her head drop to the cold marble she groaned. She had to get out of here.

“Oh you’re back already?” She heard his voice behind her. She breathed in deep before she turned around. “Yeah just got back… Fuck….” She said with big eyes as John walked over to the fridge completely naked. He looked over his shoulder.

“Want something to drink?”

Her mouth dropped open but no words seemed to come out of it. August chuckled to himself as he saw her expression and grabbed a bottle of water before he closed the fridge and walked over to her. And she really tried to not look but he was just so…. big.

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as he stopped in front of her.

“My eyes are up here.” He whispered, making her startle.

“I… Should go to bed.” She said, her throat dry.

“Make sure to use some ear plugs. I’m not finished with your mom yet.” He smirked down at her. “Or… don’t make too much noise, when you work your little fingers inside of that pretty cunt, hm?” He winked before he turned around and left the kitchen.

It had been almost two weeks and Adelaide was sure she would die because of the sexual tension between John and her. John didn’t make it easier for her. He seemed to know just what to do and how far he could go to drive her insane. Yesterday he had waited for her sitting on her toilet seat after she showered.

There was no denying that John wanted her. And he didn’t seem to care what her mother would think if she would find out. But Adelaide… She loved her mother. More than anything in the world. She could never betray her trust like that. But she also couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if John would fuck her. A real man. She loved Brad. But not once had he been able to make her cum. He had been her first and she was wondering just how much she was missing out. And gathering from the sounds her mother was making every. single. night. John knew what he was doing.

“I’ll see you in two days, Sweety.” Her mom kissed her cheek. She would be going to a conference and leaving her alone with John.

“I’ll miss you.” Adelaide smiled hugging her mom. She felt his presence beside her before his arm came down on her shoulder, making her close her eyes.

“I’ll take care of your girl, Katherine.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss her.

“You two have fun.” Katherine smiled and waved before she closed the door behind her. Adelaide had been alone with John several times. But not with the knowledge of her mother returning in more than 48 hours. His arms still lay on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help a shiver running down her back. His fingertips caressed the skin of her upper arm. This was the first time he had been touching her at all.

“I have to take care of some business today, but should we cook dinner later?” He asked, looking down at her. He could feel her heartbeat and the softness of her skin.

“S… Sure….” Adelaide said, wetting her lips.

“Okay.” He smiled, before he let her go and walked to his office.

It was early afternoon when Adelaide couldn’t take it anymore. She only had her bathrobe on, having taken a shower earlier in hope to cool her off but it seemed to have the opposite effect. An idea had come to her mind. A very, very bad idea. She had no clue when John would be back. Pulling her drawer open she grabbed the dildo she had bought some months ago. It was bigger than Brad but probably not as big as John’s. Definitely not bigger as John’s. It had a suction cup attached to it, and Adelaide made her way towards John’s office.

It smelled like him. She left the door ajar to hear him coming home as she let her fingertips run over the massive wood desk.

This used to be her mother's office. She didn’t even know what he was doing for a living. She never asked. Though it probably would only take a little digging to find out more about him. But he had clouded her mind with the filthiest thoughts to a point, that she was even considering betraying her mother. She couldn’t think straight without her mind going to John. How he would hold her. How he would make her do whatever he wants. And how she would thank him. Sighing, she sat down on the chair. It was a simple wood chair. With the dildo still in her hand she slipped her bathrobe open, letting it fall off her shoulders. She imagined what he would do if he found her here. Would he bend her over the table? Slap her? Fuck her mouth? She whimpered at the thought. Letting the tip of her toy wander over her body, her other hand caressing her breast. She has been wet ever since he had let his fingertips brush over her arm. Getting up from the seat she attached the dildo on the seat. Spitting in her hand she rubbed it making it wet before she lined up with it and slowly sank down.

August had the groceries in a bag in one hand, his phone in the other when he got home earlier than intended. The meeting he had went to shit and it seems like the apostles needed a stronger leadership than intended. Walking to the kitchen he grabbed the scotch and filled his glass. Getting his shoes off he made his way upstairs to change his clothes when he walked past his office. He bit his lips as he saw Adelaide sitting on his chair naked, as she moved up and down. He was hard instantly. Leaning with his shoulder in the door frame he sipped his drink, watching her. She was trying to be quiet, that he noticed, but the sounds she made as she apparently rode her toy… She must be so wet.

“John….” She moaned quietly and August desperately wished it was his real name on her lips. He couldn’t take it anymore and opened the zipper of his pants.

The noise Adelaide heard made her stop and look up seeing John standing in the door. He had a glass in one of his hands, his other hand slowly pumping his hard cock.

“I…” She stammered.

“Oh… don’t let me stop you, little princess.” He smiled at her as he slowly walked closer.

“You look so beautiful. So close… Are you close to cum?” He asked. She breathed in deep before she nodded.

“Then go on.” He smiled, stopping on the other side of the desk. She looked up at him as she slowly began to ride her dildo. Unintentionally she bit her lip as she watched the drops of precum on the tip of his cock.

“Ever sucked a cock that big?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Do you want to?” He asked, a challenge in his tone.

“I… No one ever…” She shook her head, breathing in deep. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Oh little princess.” He walked around the desk, stopping just in front of her. “I’m gonna teach you. But you have to keep riding that toy of yours.” She swallowed, continuing to ride as he let the tip of his cock draw over her lips.

“Open up.” He whispered, bringing the glass to his lips as Adelaids parted hers. He pushed his cock in and she moaned as she tasted him.

“Fuck… Just what I needed.” He groaned, feeling her tongue. She took more of him while she was getting closer to cum. When he hit the back of her throat he moaned.

“We are going to work on that. When I’m finished with you you will take my cook balls deep in your throat…” He sighed taking another sip of his drink, before he sat the glass down.

“I really want to fuck that mouth of yours… Ready?” He asked. She didn’t get to nodd, before both of his hands framed her face as he began to fuck into her mouth. The thought alone had made her wetter than ever before in the past, but now… With John fucking her mouth…

“You’re close, little princess?” He growled. She moaned.

“Then cum.” He forced and she moaned loudly around his cock and felt herself wet the chair.

“Fuck… did you just squirt all over my chair? Fuck….” He groaned, pulling his cock out. He replaced her mouth with his hand and only moments later he released himself on her face, coating her in his cum.

Out of breath he looked down at her. He ran a finger over her face, dipping into his cum before he brought it to her lips. She sucked eagerly and he smiled. Leaving his pants open he grabbed his glass and stepped away from her.

“Clean that up before you come down. I’m making pasta with salmon.”

They hadn’t talked about what happened in his office. She had cleaned everything up, washed her face and met him downstairs for a very delicious dinner he cooked. She couldn’t put a finger on it but something seemed off about him. Well… apart from the whole wanting to fuck his girlfriends daughter thing.

Her mother had been home for almost three days now and Adelaide had taken the time to check what she could find out about John. John Walker. Sadly it was a common name and she didn’t know anything else really about him. And she couldn’t just go up to him and ask. If she would be working for the MI6 she could just run a face recognition, but that was years away.

She would be leaving in three days with mixed feelings. On the one hand she couldn’t wait to be back at university. Back into her old, boring life, without John. And also without Brad. She had ended things with him the day after the office incident. It was bad enough betraying her mother like that she couldn’t take betraying him too. She had just brushed her teeth, it was almost 2 am, when she got back to her room and had to cover her mouth, stopping the scream at finding John naked in her bed. He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re leaving on wednesday.” He said. She nodded.

“I’m gonna miss you, little princess.” She desperately tried to look into his face, but he was just… there. His strong arms angled, as he lay with his head on his hands. His muscular hairy chest, rising with every breath he took. Letting her gaze wander, she could see his cock resting against his stomach. Why was he always hard around her?

She took a deep breath and switched off the lights in her en suite bathroom.

“What kind of sick game are you playing, John?” She asked, walking over to her drawer, to get her sleeping clothes.

“August.” He said. She turned around.

“My name is August.” He clarified.

“Right. And I'm October.” She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me or I’ll have to punish you.” He growled. This shouldn’t have an effect on her, but it did.

“Okay. August.” She said, and somehow the name August seemed to fit better to him than John.

“What are you doing naked in my room?”

“I’m here to fuck you, little princess.” He pushed himself up from her bed and walked over to her.

“My mom is sleeping across the hall.” She whispered, afraid on being caught.

“Then you’ll have to be quiet when you cum on my cock.” He grinned. August tilted her chin up.

“No one ever made me cum but myself.” She whispered. August grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it over her head leaving her naked in front of him.

“That’s because I haven’t fucked you.” He whispered back before he picked her up and kissed her hard. All thoughts seemed to disappear from her mind, as August lips collided with hers. Crossing her legs behind his back she let her hands wander into his hair, pulling him even closer. He lay her down on her bed, his lips wandering down her body, his hands playing with her tits. She had beautiful tits. The perfect fit for his hands. Pinching her nipple she cried out.

“Sh… Quiet.” He reminded her as he kissed himself down her body. He breathed in deep as he stopped between her legs, one of his arms holding her down while he let the fingers of his other hand softly wander over her pussy. He looked up, seeing her bite her lip.

“Let’s see how many times I can make you cum.” He whispered, before he leaned in to kiss her pussy.

No one had ever gone down on her. She desperately tried to keep herself grounded, but when August tongue dipped inside of her while his finger softly circled her clit, she exploded. Pressing her hand against her mouth to quiet her moans, she shook beneath him soaking him in her juices.

“That’s one.” August said smug, before he got up.

“Next one is on my cock.” She felt the tip as he played with her pussy.

“You gonna use a condom?” She asked.

“You’re on birth control?” He asked, she nodded.

“Well… if you’re clean, I most certainly am.”

The thought of him being the first to cum inside of her, made her shiver.

“Don’t tell me no one filled that little cunt yet?!” He asked. He pushed the tip in making her bite her lip. She only shook her head as he pushed deeper. She felt his fingers on her clit.

“Fuck that’s so fucking hot.” He groaned. They both sighed when he was balls deep.

“Such a tight warm pussy…” He bottomed out only to slam back in her eyes rolling back.

“August….” She whimpered and his name, his real name coming off her lips, seemed to shortcut his brain. He began to slam into her, his hands slapping her tits. She already was a sobbing mess and he only just started. He began to roll her clit, wanting to make her cum again.

“I’m close… Fuck i’m so close.” She whimpered, meeting his thrusts. One of his hands wandered up her body grabbing her neck, before he slowly choked her. He felt her tighten around his cock, as her eyes rolled back and she whimpered her orgasm washing over her. Adelaide didn’t care if she would rot in hell for what she was doing if August was already fucking her like the devil. She was shaking so hard she didn’t notice August pull out and turn her around so she was on her knees. Pushing her upper body into the mattress, she slammed back into her pussy and fucked her like his life depended on it. Grabbing her hair he pulled her towards him, making her cry out.

“This pussy belongs to me now.” He whispered against her ear, as he pumped into her.

“I will be the one you think about from now on whenever anyone is fucking you. God… If we had more time, I’d fill that pretty ass of yours too.” She whimpered at the thought alone and heard him chuckle.

“You like that idea?” She only moaned in response feeling her next orgasm approaching.

“I’m close little princess. Are you gonna cum for me again?” He let go of her hair, both of his hands grabbing her tits as he fucked into her from behind. August pinched her nipple and she came again. Breathing rapidly she opened her mouth in a silent cry as August fucked her through her orgasm.

“Fuck… Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He groaned against her ear, and she felt him swell and twitch as he pumped his cum deep inside of her. It was a weird feeling, but she loved it. He breathed hard, dropping his head against her shoulder.

“I really am gonna miss you little princess.”

“Me too, August.” She whispered. Me too.

3 years later

“There is a high level suspect in room 3. I want you to go in with Agent Christian and observe.”

“Understood.” Adelaide said. She smiled at Agent Christian who opened the door for her. She looked at the man sitting chained to the table and she had to remind herself on how to breathe.

“Mr. Walker.” Agent Christian said. August looked up at the man before his eyes fell on the woman who was sitting down at the table beside the man. He hid his surprise, but he couldn’t hold back his grin.

“Well if that isn’t a sight for sore eyes.” He grinned at Adelaide. The Agent looked at Adelaide before he looked at August again, giving Adelaide a second to gather her thoughts.

“Shall we start?” August asked, finally looking away from her.

“August Walker, I’m Agent Christian and this is Agent Fraser.”

“Fraser… I once had a girlfriend with the Surname Fraser....” August smirked.

#fanfic #august walker #henry cavill #august walker x ofc #august walker x reader #august walker x you #august walker smut #fanfiction #let's catch the last train to hell everyone

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thirstyforoc · 4 years ago

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🎂

I know his birthday was a couple days ago but my brain doesn't work that well and I'm always early for everything else, I can be late for this.

Here's something to read that's probably not great and wordy and rambly and really only relevant to my own interests. I had to hammer this out because I just had to and it took longer than I expected because I can't shut the fuck up. Read it if you feel like it or don't, I'll still love you either way.

Using real names so don't keep going if that bothers you. I didn't post the picture but I make a reference to that one pic of him at Medieval Times, you know the one, at least I hope you do. Enjoy.

Idk, I just like picturing every single birthday Dustin and Jim have spent together since they became friends. Sue me. I have too much time on my hands and like to think about their relationship so I have to get this out. Here. Take it.

It's early in their friendship, a few years in. They're in Philly for a show and Dustin knows it's almost Jim's birthday, he's aware it's coming up but he forgot what day it fell on and that it was so soon until Jim brings it up. He's never super sober or super clear on what day of the week it is, that's just how he lives. If anyone has a problem with it that's on them. Jim never seems to take issue with it though. Maybe that's why their friends?

It's the Friday before his birthday. They're hanging out at Dustin's place before heading to the show and Jim reminds Dustin when his birthday is. "Tuesday? Your fucking birthday is on a Tuesday this year? Gross. Jim Day on a Tuesday. Lame."

Jim laughs a little, the soft laugh he always gives Dustin when he's being a certain kind of ridiculous or obnoxious, like he can't believe he's saying what he's saying. "You know I don't get to pick what day my birthday falls on, right? Tell me you know that. I need to hear you say you know that."

"I mean, yuck. What's there to do on a Tuesday?"

"I dunno. I don't really have any plans this year." Truth be told Jim's not all that concerned with how he's going to spend his actual birthday. Perhaps he'll do something with friends or family back in Jersey? Maybe he won't. It's not a big, special, milestone birthday or anything. No reason to go all out.

Dustin absolutely, positively will not shut up about it. No matter how many times Jim grunts or rolls his eyes Dustin just keeps talking and babbling about how it's a crime for someone's birthday to fall on a Tuesday. Jim's on the verge of asking Dustin exactly what is wrong with Tuesdays anyway when Dustin pauses to look right at him. "We should just start now."

"Huh?"

"Today."

"Today?"

"Yeah. Like, spend the whole weekend partying. Today is your birthday. Tomorrow is your birthday. Keep the Jim Day train on the tracks through Sunday, Monday, your actual birthday. You said you didn't have plans, right? Just stay. You'll stay and it'll be like...like one long birthday instead of a fucking boring ass birthday on a Tuesday of all days. Yeah, you'll stay and...and you'll stay and we'll find things to do every day. So, you'll stay." It's never a question. It's already been decided that Jim's going to agree. Dustin never sounds uncertain, says it with such confidence. He's not fearful even for one second Jim might say he isn't down.

Dustin wants him to stay so Jim does. Sure, he's got things he could be doing at home, was planning on staying maybe through Saturday and heading back Sunday morning, Sunday evening at the latest but he could stay. Yeah, he will stay. Dustin wants him to stay so he's staying.

Work will go on without him. He'll call his family and tell them something came up. If his parents or siblings are upset they can find a way to celebrate his birthday once he's home and recovered from what's bound to be a bender if he knows anything at all about Dustin. Dustin wants him to stay. He'll stay.

Man, go home where he's made no plans, where there's no party, and most of all no Dustin or have the time of his life all weekend with one of his best friends? Wow, that's a hard choice. Dustin really seems to want him to stay so he's staying.

Friday night they head to the nearest bar after the show is over, close down the damn thing and stay up laughing and talking on Dustin's couch for three hours once they get back. They're not even paying attention to the time, neither one cares. Drinking and partying with all their wrestling friends was fun but at the end of the night it's nice that it's just the two of them. It's nice.

The next morning is a bit rough. Ok, they aren't conscious until afternoon but 2pm counts as morning when it's Dustin and Jim you're talking about. Saturday-it's Saturday, right?-is pretty much the same only the drinking begins much earlier, like pretty much as soon as they're both showered and get some food in their stomachs. Day drinking is a lot of fun, so much fun that a short nap is necessary before they head out to meet their friends again. Actually, they kind of passed out together on the couch watching tv, it was completely unintentional and unplanned. They probably would have slept the rest of the day away if not for Dustin being startled awake by Jim's loud snoring. "Thank god we don't live together." Dustin thinks for a moment while watching Jim sleep. Well, maybe that wouldn't be all bad. Whatever, can't think about it too long, they have to get up.

Saturday night is even wilder than Friday night. They drink too much. Way too much. They're tanked. Bombed. Blitzed. Completely fucked. Dustin kept buying them shots and when their bar tab got a little too high he simply shifted to telling everyone who would listen it was Jim's birthday, coaxed a bunch of other drunks into buying them more shots.

Sunday is the worst. They're suffering when they finally roll out of bed and off the couch for good and both agree easily, immediately they should take it easy today. There's a shitty, cheap diner close to Dustin's place so they stop there to eat dinner, share a huge plate of greasy diner food that Dustin pays for. Friends keep asking if they're coming to the bar again but both of them are in rocky shape from the night before. They sit Sunday night out, convalesce on Dustin's couch quietly, chug water and make small talk while they recover.

Monday evening Dustin takes Jim to Medieval Times because the little guy has talked about it so many times since they first met, drops hints constantly about how he wants to go-not this weekend but Dustin remembers him mentioning it-so Dustin figures now would be good. It's the little hunk's birthday after all.

On the drive there they swear they're going to take it easy, agree to have a couple glasses of wine with dinner and call it good. What a crock of shit. After cracking open their third bottle of the night Jim insists he's going to sit on that throne because he'll look badass so Dustin follows. He follows his little drunk blond friend everywhere, why wouldn't he? Gotta keep tabs on him, make sure he's safe, keep eyes on him. Jim doesn't ask but Dustin takes several pictures of him on that throne, laughs the entire time because Jim is hilarious and fun and cute, really fucking cute, especially with almost two bottles of wine in him.

"Ooh. C'mon." Jim grabs Dustin's wrist so fast he damn near drops his phone, leads him towards the photo booth in the lobby. The little shit is lucky Dustin has some cash on him, Dustin can tell from the look on his face he isn't going to take no for an answer. Jim shoves Dustin in first and almost crashes down on his lap, drunk on wine and apparently really fucking excited about them taking pictures together.

The booth is tiny. The seat is narrow. Jim's a compact little guy but Dustin's certainly not. To say they're crammed in there would be an understatement but they manage. Dustin forgets to look where he's supposed to look, far too preoccupied with staring at the little blond planted on his lap. "King for a day." Jim laughs, flashes Dustin a huge, vibrant smile as he points to the novelty crown on his head.

Maybe Dustin's going soft? Maybe he had more wine than he thought? Maybe they've spent a little too much time together the last few days? Maybe. Maybe not. All Dustin knows is it's easier for him to blame the urge to kiss Jim right in this photo booth on one of those things instead of being honest with himself and admitting he has feelings for the guy.

"Maybe Jim shouldn't have such pretty pink lips if I can't kiss him." Definitely can't say that out loud. Hold on. Rewind. Go back to the beginning. Jim's drunk and smiling and the booth is still snapping pictures of them. "Say something that doesn't involve his lips, you moron!"

Easier said than done. Dustin's brain makes it sound so simple. The truth is it's really difficult, borderline impossible to stop thinking about his pretty mouth. Jim's still looking at him so Dustin smiles back, reaches over and brushes his fingertips across Jim's cheek. "You're always a king to me, baby." Why the fuck did he say that? He would have been better off just kissing Jim. Jim just laughs, a huge, easy laugh that goes on until the little voice in the booth tells them to wait outside for their pictures to process. Jim climbs off his lap and the moment is over, gone, finished just as quickly as it came. Oh well. Maybe next time. It's not like Dustin's going to forget he wants to kiss him anytime soon.

They're so drunk at the conclusion of their night at Medieval Times they need to leave Dustin's car there and catch a cab home. Whatever. He'll have someone drive him back so he can pick it up in the morning. They had fun. No harm done. A friend gives them both a lift to pick up Dustin's shitty old car and they're already out so they kick off Tuesday by going out for brunch. It's a lot pricier than the greasy spoon diner by Dustin's place and they'll both be broke by the time they're done celebrating but that doesn't really matter does it? Birthdays only come once a year and today is literally Jim's birthday. It's Jim day.

They're full of delicious food by the time they're through and stop at a liquor store to buy supplies for mimosas to drink at home because they both agreed it'd be the cheaper route. They're not trying to get hammered, just sip throughout the day and maintain a nice buzz until it's time to head to the bar. It's Tuesday. Fuck, when did they start this again? Who cares. It's Tuesday. It's Jim Day. It's not until almost midnight on Tuesday that Dustin realizes neither one of them has bothered to talk to a single girl all weekend. Huh. Weird.

Shortly after midnight they toast with a couple shots of whiskey. They call it a night before last call and pick up the most unhealthy food they can find on the way back to Dustin's place, devour it while relaxing on his couch. That's where they fall asleep too, Jim slumped over in a heap on Dustin's shoulder, Dustin simply smiling before putting an arm around the little guy and drifting off shortly after.

Wednesday is pretty chill. Jim's actual birthday has passed and they've been going pretty hard for the last few days. Dustin's suggestion to hit up the grocery store and make dinner at his place is half because they're almost broke and half because they're both sorta worn out. Jim agrees, seems happy about it if Dustin's being honest and that's a relief. He's not much of a cook but for Jim he'll make an exception. It is his birthday, or was his birthday. It may never end, may never stop being his birthday.

They leave the dirty dishes in the sink and waste the rest of the night playing video games, stay up damn near long enough to see the sunrise before they remember it'd be a good idea to get some sleep. It's strange watching Jim curl up on the couch that final time. Dustin knows he's got to go home at some point. The guy doesn't live in Philly, doesn't live here. He's got a life to go back to. He can't just spend all his time hanging out, that's ridiculous. Dustin knows it's completely, utterly ridiculous but he wants Jim to stay. He can't stay.

When they finally wake up on Thursday Dustin is oddly nervous, uneasy. They've never spent such a long stretch together, this is easily the most he's seen of Jim, the most time they've shared since they became friends. It's difficult to admit to himself but Dustin liked it. He liked having Jim around. He liked what he saw. Yeah, they were already friends, best friends but it seems different now and Dustin isn't sure what to do with that knowledge, that feeling.

Time for Jim to leave comes quickly. Before Dustin's had an opportunity to process everything that transpired from the time Jim got to his place Friday afternoon to now Jim's ready to make the trip home. It sucks. There's got to be another excuse, another reason to ask Jim to stay, right? No. He can't do that. He won't do that. Jim can't stay. His birthday has passed. Back to normal, regular life. He'll see Jim in a couple weeks for the next show anyway. He can't stay.

Dustin's not expecting Jim to hug him goodbye. Normal people, friends hug goodbye all the time, he's not sure why it comes as a surprise when Jim's hands are on the back of his neck and the little guy is mumbling something about how much fun he had, thanking Dustin. "You're welcome. Happy birthday." Dustin barely manages to say. Fuck, he's such an idiot. He's not even hugging Jim back. He really should do that.

He does hug Jim back after a few awkward moments, squeezes him a bit too tight judging by that little noise Jim just made. Why else would he make a sound like that? Dustin eases up, lets go of his waist and looks down at his little blond friend. Yeah, this sucks. What, like he's supposed to spend almost six full days with a guy like Jim and not be bothered when it's time for him to leave? He can't stay.

He can't stay but Dustin's not about to let Jim escape without joking around with him one last time. "So, same thing next year? Holy shit, your birthday is gonna fall on a Wednesday next year! Lame. A birthday on a Wednesday is even worse than one on a Tuesday. Gross, dude."

"Shut up. Your birthday rolls around first, remember? Let's plan for that first."

"Deal."

#I swear this was supposed to be short #I just think they're neat #I'm going back into my hole now don't look at me

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janeofcakes · 4 years ago

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Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 3

Hello, my friends! It’s been a busy weekend and I’m more than a little sunburned (grrrrr), but here it is! The next chapter is ready and waiting for you all. I hope you enjoy it and had a great weekend!

---

The next two Saturdays come and go with Olive and Gracie no closer to getting their fathers to meet. The one following their first would have been perfect, but Sherlock had a case on that did not finish as timely as he had hoped. Mrs. Hudson was out of town with Mrs. Turner, so he called in his own babysitter. She and John had a pleasant enough conversation on the park bench from what little Gracie and Olive overheard. It didn’t really matter that John had been told Sherlock’s name was William because Annie had always called him that anyway. From what Olive understood, it was an attempt to protect both Sherlock and Annie’s privacy. She could reference him as her employer with ease while avoiding the inevitable ‘Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he does have a child.’ conversation. It was also better that Sherlock not advertise the fact.

Olive and Gracie’s anticipation of the following Saturday grew with John’s answer to the playdate at Olive’s flat question. He had said it would likely be fine, but he needed to meet Olive’s parents first. When Saturday came, John was called away on an emergency and Candace took Gracie to the park AGAIN. After the two girls pouted a bit, they cooked up a scheme wherein Candace gave her impression of Sherlock to John so they could move things along. The girls thought this would suffice, but John still insisted upon meeting ‘Will’ himself. Gracie tried to argue that he trusts Candace and should just go along with it. She had a good, long strop on Sunday when he refused.

Gracie’s class sits together in the smaller of the school’s two gymnasiums when they arrive individually before the day begins. Every class has its place so each can rise and file to its room when the bell rings. Olive and Gracie love beginning the day this way because they have a chance to talk before having to sit quietly for lessons. It makes it much easier to pay attention. This particular Monday morning, however, is not going to plan.

Gracie glances up to the clock on the wall impatiently and begins to worry. Olive is not in the gym yet and it is not like her. Sherlock always has her to school at exactly eight minutes before the bell rings and it is now five minutes to the bell. Gracie lowers her eyes again and bites her lip. She knows her concern is ridiculous at this stage. It’s probably just traffic or something, but her protective side won’t let it drop. Could Olive and her father have gotten caught up in a case somehow? Gracie furrows her brow as she considers what that might mean when a pair of red shoes comes into view. She lets her eyes focus on them a moment before lifting them to see a girl from one of the other grade three classes standing before her nervously.

“Hi, Grace,” she says quietly. Her name is Julia and she usually keeps to herself, but Olive has built up a report with her. She says Julia sees and knows everything and is really nice, just a bit shy. Knowing this, Gracie is surprised she has left her own class group to come over to Gracie’s and talk.

“Hi,” Gracie mutters and then adds, thinking it the most likely reason for Julia’s visit, “Olive isn’t here yet.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you,” Julia casts a slow side glance to her right and then back to Gracie, whose curious eyes follow the other girl’s. “Jones is planning something for lunch today. I’m not sure what, but she wants to embarrass you. She’s still mad about that punch on your first day.”

“Oh,” Gracie replies, not knowing why she expected anything less. Jones hadn’t said word one to them since that day and Olive kept saying it was only a matter of time. “Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

“We all loved it, you know,” Julia carries on swiftly. “Jones has been a pain in everyone’s side forever. She deserved it.”

Julia glances away again and takes a step back. Her brown eyes are intense when she returns them to Gracie’s and she angles her head closer.

“We’re all with you in this,” she almost whispers. “We’ll help anytime you need it.”

“Thanks,” Gracie doesn’t try to stop the small smile on her face. “I’ll remember that.”

Julia nods once and hurries back to her class’s spot. Gracie watches her go, feeling a bit lighter than she did before. She doesn’t know who is encompassed in the word ‘we’ at this moment, but it must be more than just grade three, right?. She had gotten quite a lot of attention from the other kids after the punch. More had greeted her afterwards or thrown a smile her way. Gracie wouldn’t say they all wanted to be friends or anything, just that they knew of her and liked what they knew. Very different from her old school where she was virtually unknown outside of her own grade.

Gracie thinks back on the friends she left behind in Bath and resolves to zoom with them soon. Turning her head to check the clock again, she nearly jumps out of her skin when Olive plops down right in front of her. The brunette is breathless, obviously having walked as fast as possible through the school halls to get here. Gracie cocks a brow and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Where the heck have you been?” she nearly scolds, secretly eyeing her friend for any signs of injury. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Pfft,” Olive makes a dismissive sound and waves a hand. “We still have two minutes.”

“Well, where were you?” Gracie fidgets, feeling a little exposed, but wanting to say this nonetheless. “I was kind of worried. Like maybe you ended up on a case or something.”

“Oh, no. Dad never takes me on cases,” Olive tells her in a very serious tone. “Well, only once when he absolutely had to and only because he knew there was no danger.”

Gracie releases the lip she’s been chewing on and lets the tension drain from her body. Seeing her friend relax, Olive smiles and lightens her tone.

“Dad did get a call for a case though and Mrs. Hudson had to bring me in. She’s never as fast as dad is,” Olive’s whole face lights up then and she hops up to sit on her knees for a change of subject. Gracie knows what it is too. It’s the reason she has waited for her friend so anxiously. “So did you ask him? What did he say? Whaddid he say?”

“He still needs to meet your dad first,” Gracie sighs with disappointment.

“What?” Olive blurts indignantly. “But he trusts Candace’s judgement.”

“That’s what I said, but he says he still has to meet your parents before I can go to your flat,” Gracie huffs. “It’s like he thinks he can tell they aren’t axe murderers with just one look.”

“You can, you know,” Olive replies suddenly in a calmer voice.

“What?”

“Tell someone isn’t an axe murderer with one look,” Olive sounds very pleased with herself for knowing this bit of information.

“What are you on about?” Gracie shakes her head. “That’s not even important right now.”

“No. You’re right,” Olive concedes. She touched a finger to her lips to think and then groans loudly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We have to make sure they meet this weekend. I’ll tell Uncle Greg not to even call Dad if I have to.”

“I’ll do what I can too, but there’s no way I can stop another emergency,” Gracie grumbles and wrinkles her nose.

“Any chance of a baby again?” Olive asks, trying to plan for any contingency.

“I don’t think so,” Gracie shrugs. “Dad usually tells me to be ready when it’s something he can anticipate.”

“Hm. Then we’ll just have to hope for a slow weekend,” Olive mumbles, touching a finger to her lips again.

“Right,” Gracie agrees, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Something interesting happened right before you got here.”

The bell rings and teachers begin to call out instructions as Olive opens her mouth to respond. The two girls rise with their classmates, Gracie shouldering her backpack. Their line starts moving almost right away. Olive puts a hand on Gracie’s shoulder and leans in, the shorter girl turning her head to hear better.

“You can tell me at lunch,” Olives says, “and we can decide what to do on our first playdate.”

Gracie grins and agrees as they walk into the hall to their classroom.

***

“And then I’ll show you our latest experiment,” Olive had started listing the things she and Gracie would do on their first playdate the moment they walked into the lunch room. Olive puts a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth triumphantly.

“What are you working on now?” Gracie asks, snapping off a piece of her carrot and chewing. Her face is bright and open. Thinking about her first time in Olive’s flat is her most fun pastime these days. She has even dreamt about it: what she pictures it to look like and what they will do. It is the most excited she has been about something in a while. She was excited to move to London and start in a new school. Of course she was, but this has none of the uncertainty or anxiety those did. It is all pure anticipation and Olive feels it too, which makes it all the harder to wait until their fathers meet.

“The effects of cola on raw meat,” Olive answers Gracie’s question while dipping her spoon for more yogurt.

“What?” Gracie frowns and cocks a brow. “Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” Olive eyes the mound of yogurt on her spoon. “We’ve also added other stuff, like poisons and things to see if it makes any difference as far as how quickly the meat deteriorates or absorbs the poison. It’s for a homicide case.”

“What’s homicide?” Gracie asks curiously.

“Murder,” Olive whispers and closes her mouth smoothly around the spoon.

“Wow,” Gracie looks at her with wide eyes, carrot still in hand.

“I can’t guarantee we’ll still be doing it by the time we have our playdate though,” Olive tells her almost regretfully, holding the spoon to her lower lip. “There’s no way it could last two weeks. Dad never takes that long to solve a case.”

“That’s okay. It sounds kind of gross anyway,” Gracie pops the carrot into her mouth and grabs another. “What else could we do?”

“I want to show you my room. That’ll be the best part,” Olive declares, shifting from side to side in her seat eagerly. “It’s the upstairs bedroom. The only room upstairs.”

“Oh my god. Your flat has an upstairs?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide. “Ours have always been all on one floor.”

“Sometimes I pretend it’s a castle on top of a huge mountain and I have to climb it to search for prisoners or treasure or villains,” Olive is waving her spoon around now, gesturing enthusiastically.

“That sounds brilliant!” Gracie bubbles. “We could climb it together.”

“And, and!” Olive gasps, grabbing Gracie’s wrist and holding perfectly still. Gracie freezes too, but nearly vibrates with the anticipation of what she will say. “You can bring Pandy and we’ll save her and Wellies.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s perfect!” Gracie shoves a carrot in her mouth. “I can’t wait.”

“We have to get our dads to meet this Saturday,” Olive says emphatically, nearly in a whine as the bell rings. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Around them, Miss Chapel begins rounding everyone up. Olive and Gracie both shove what’s left of their lunches into their bags and hurry to stand.

“Hey, wait. We forgot. What were you going to tell me?” Olive asks, pushing her chair in.

“What?” Gracie replies, not sure what she means.

“From this morning,” Olive answers as Gracie picks up her bag and milk carton. “I got so excited about our playdate, I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, that,” Gracie starts toward the door, but her foot catches on something and she falls flat on the floor. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, she drops her lunch bag and milk carton and then lands right on them. Both smash flat, the half full carton soaking the front of her uniform.

“Gracie, are you okay?” Olive darts around the table to help, but Gracie is already getting to her knees.

“I’m fine,” Gracie mutters, looking down at herself and grumbling. Olive follows Gracie’s legs to find the sources of her fall and her eyes settle on a black size six. She knows who it is without even looking, but raises her angry gaze nonetheless and rests it on the smug face of Samantha Jones.

“Your friend had best watch where she’s going, Holmes,” Jones sneers, her two lackeys grinning behind her. “She could get hurt.”

“You’re a coward, Jones,” Olive scowls. “She faced you straight on and bested you, and now you hide in the corner waiting to catch her off-guard.”

“Olive,” Gracie cautions, standing next to the taller girl now.

“You watch yourself, Holmes,” Jones steps up close and stares Olive down. “Your pet won’t be with you all the time and that’s when I’ll find you.”

“Girls,” Miss Chapel calls sternly from behind Olive and Gracie, “what are you doing? Did you not hear the bell?”

“Just coming, Miss Chapel,” Jones replies pleasantly, side-stepping the two younger girls while staring at them menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

After the three grade sixers are gone, Olive takes Gracie’s lunch bag and goes to class while Miss Chapel helps Gracie clean up a bit in the loo. She isn’t too worried about missing anything. Olive will fill her in on the lesson later. What Gracie has on her mind now is how to get back at Samantha Jones and really put her in her place so she doesn’t bully anyone in the school again. If anyone can do it, it’s Gracie Watson and Olive Holmes.

***

“Just the two of you against the world then, eh?” John chuckles as he drops Gracie’s soiled uniform into the washer with some other laundry and closes the lid.

“The world of bullies, yeah,” Gracie answers as if there is no way it could be questioned. “You should see her, Dad. She pushes everyone around and steals the good stuff from their lunches as a ‘protection fee’.”

John flips the dial on the machine to start the cycle and turns to his daughter with a both bemused and amused expression. She wears a look of determination that only furthers his pleasure. Gracie looks nothing less than adorable. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes deadly serious and her mouth purse into half its usual size. With a hand on one hip and her other arm wrapped around Pandy, she stands strong with her feet planted on the floor. The smiling panda t-shirt, her favorite one, looks up at him with friendly eyes that contrast with his daughter’s.

“Protection fee?” John laughs because he just can’t help himself at this point. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Olive calls it,” she informs him in a tone that is all business. “Jones says she won’t bother them if they give her the treats from their lunches and they do it because they’re scared of her. She’s mean and you say I should stand up against bullies.”

“True, but…” John cuts in, seeing where this is going and not sure it’s the best course of action for Gracie to take.

“You don’t want me to stand back and let her bully little kids,” Gracie continues. “Kids in my class, even the ones who are younger than us. Why shouldn’t I stop her if I can?”

“Gracie…” John begins again, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I thought you’d get it,” Gracie’s voice is insistent, but has a touch of pleading as well, and even some disappointment. “You fought in a war.”

“This is hardly war, Gracie,” John says a bit more sternly than he meant to . She snaps her mouth shut in a thin frown and the furrow of her brow deepens. She tilts her chin down and looks up at him with frustrated eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing Pandy against her body. John sighs and squats down before her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Gracie, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he tells her in a soft tone of concern. “I love that you want to help the other kids and don’t want to back down from a fight. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Gracie takes a deep breath through her nose, shoulders straightening and her chest puffing out. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’ve only been at the school for a few weeks,” John carries on carefully. “I don’t want kids that could have been friends to steer clear of you because they think you like trouble, or will get them in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Gracie questions, obviously finding the idea unbelievably stupid. “They seem to like me more because I stood up to Jones in the lunchroom. Like Julia said.”

“Oh, right,” John lifts his chin and raises his eyes briefly as he remembers. “The informant.”

“She knows everything,” Gracie lowers her voice and glances to her left before leaning in conspiratorially. “She lays low and hears all kinds of things. Olive can always go to her if she has questions about stuff that’s going on.”

“Just like Billy,” John mutters to himself with a quiet laugh.

“Who?” Gracie asks, looking a little confused.

“Nothing, sweet pea. Someone from another life,” John deftly pushes away his past. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to help you any way I can to be a good person and get on with other kids, or with schoolwork and whatever, yeah? I’m a lot older and have done a lot of things. It’s called experience.”

“Okay,” Gracie says slowly like she is beginning to see his point. She watches him thoughtfully.

“Sometimes people just think you’ll be the next bully when you stand up to one,” John explains. “You have to be careful kids don’t get the wrong impression and assume they should avoid you too.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Gracie shakes her head. “Not with Olive on my side and Julia talking to everybody.”

“Well, good,” John straightens his legs to stand. “I’m glad you have such good and supportive friends.”

Gracie follows him as he walks to the kitchen to check the lasagna baking in the oven. It smells delicious and is one of their favorite dinners.

“Did you and your best friend help people?” Gracie asks curiously, lagging behind a little to stay away from the heat of the open oven door.

“Oh, yes,” John replies without even thinking as he lifts the aluminum foil from the casserole pan to look at the bubbling cheese. “Every case we solved helped people and even saved lives. It was an amazing time.”

“You solved cases?” Gracie asks after a brief pause. John’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he hurriedly grabs for the oven mitts on the counter.

“Medical cases, sweetie,” John pulls the lasagna from the oven and moves across the counter. “Will you close the door, please?”

Gracie pushes the oven door shut and steps to the counter next to John. She picks up the first plate and hands it to him when he turns to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it and dishing up the lasagna, some vegetables he had kept warm and a bit of salad. He tries not to look at Gracie for too long as he hands her the plate and she passes him an empty one. After all these years it is still too easy to read his expressions and he knows his daughter will know immediately that he’s hoping his lame explanation will suffice. John does, however, have to get it together before he sits down to eat with Gracie or he will spend the rest of the night telling her how the beloved characters in her bedtime stories are real and one of them is her own father. Will she feel betrayed? Like he has kept a huge part of himself from her? Do eight year olds even understand that concept? Gracie is fairly mature and advanced in her thinking, but enough to feel wronged or just to think her dad has this cool, secret past?

Finished filling his own plate, John schools his features as he turns to the table to see Gracie watching him expectantly. She has not only gotten the glass of milk he poured for her from the fridge, but his ice water as well. As he moves to sit opposite her, John wonders just how long it took him to dish up his own food. Gracie doesn’t look the least bit suspicious though, which is definitely a good sign. John really doesn’t want to spend the night dwelling on his former best friend. He has patently tried not to do just that since the day he agreed to take over the practice.

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice interrupts his thoughts. John looks across the table to see her staring at him with a very deliberate expression as she chews. “You have to come to the park this Saturday and meet Olive’s dad. We’ve already planned what we’re going to do on our first playdate and it’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m sure you have,” John almost sighs in relief, picking up his glass for a drink. “You both love your master plans.”

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” Gracie says plainly. “This is very important.”

“Well, I don’t anticipate any emergencies, so it should be fine,” John answers. He replaces his water glass and scoops some lasagna onto his fork. “You’ll get to have a playdate soon enough.”

***

After dinner and the washing up, John and Gracie play a few card games until bedtime. Gracie beats him twice at Old Maid and once at Go-Fish, but John wins both games of Gin. John picks up and puts away the last deck of cards while Gracie brushes her teeth. He makes himself a cup of tea while she runs to her room to change into pajamas.

When John appears in her doorway, cup in hand, Gracie is lying down with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He walks in, sets the tea on the bedside table and grabs the chair from her desk. Pulling it up to her bed, he sits and grabs his mug again.

“So,” John sips the tea, “what would you like tonight? Another chapter of the old Nancy Drew you and Olive are reading?”

“Actually…” Gracie’s tone is slightly higher than usual. A clear indication that she is going to ask for something she thinks he will say no to. “I was hoping for a Sam and Dean story. One you haven’t told me before.”

“Just how many of those stories do you think there are?” John asks good-naturedly after a quick bark of laughter.

“Hundreds!” Gracie answers with a sparkle in her eyes that John can never resist. He looks down at her with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” John tells her, “but I do still have some you don’t know.”

One leaps to mind. Why, John doesn’t know, but it is suddenly the only one he can think of. It isn’t a pleasant memory, but is certainly a case that pulled him and Sherlock closer together.

“I was going to save this one for when you’re older,” John pauses to wet his lips as Gracie’s eyes go wide.

“Please, Daddy, please,” she throws the covers off her arms, sits up and grabs the arm that doesn’t have a mug of tea at the end. “I’m old enough, please.”

John studies her for a moment and then sets down his tea.

“All right, all right,” he puts his hands on her shoulders, “but lie down. This is bedtime after all.”

“Yes!” Gracie declares in triumph and lays back quickly. John pulls the covers up to her chin and begins to tell her the story about pips, hostages, explosions and Moriarty, who he calls Chuck instead. Gracie listens with rapt attention, only really getting nervous when they were staring at that damn painting and the voice on the phone was a child. John has not told anyone, or even thought of this case, for over ten years and a feeling like exhaustion settles over him as he reaches the pool.

“The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a thick parka,” John says as Gracie gasps in horror. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth drops open.

“Oh my god, it was Dean?” she whispers, scarcely able to say the words. John’s heart sinks when she makes the same assumption Sherlock did, but rebounds when she quickly takes it back. “No. No, it can’t be Dean. He would never do that.”

“Right you are,” John commends her. “Dean pulled open the coat to reveal a waistcoat of explosives.”

Gracie lets out a huge gasp, her hands shooting from under the covers and over her mouth.

“No! What did he do? How did Sam save him?” Gracie demands in a hushed voice, unwilling to take her eyes off John for even a moment.

“Dean couldn’t say or do anything but what Chuck told him and Sam… He didn’t know what to do,” John shakes his head, remembering Sherlock’s face. He had been so frightened and vulnerable for that split-second before he schooled his expression, but John had seen it all. Unfortunately, so had Moriarty. John flinches as the words echo through his mind for the first time in years.

I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.

I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.

We both know that’s not quite true.

“All of a sudden, Chuck appeared and started telling Sam how he needed to give up, let him carry on with his plans,” John continues, trying not to see Sherlock’s face and hear the words again.

Gracie’s eyes are glued to John as he tells her how he had grabbed Moriarty and told Sherlock to go, but that he wouldn’t leave. John had known there was no way out when he saw those damn red dots on Sherlock’s forehead and throat. He had released Moriarty and swallowed hard in resignation, but then the little devil had left. Gracie breathes a sigh of relief when the semtex came off and then screeches quietly, full of fear again when Moriarty returned.

“Sam looked Dean in the eye and it was all Dean needed to know what he was thinking.” John’s voice is hushed, the only sound in the room. “He was going to shoot the bomb and cause an explosion.”

“Oh my god, no!” Gracie mutters, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching Pandy to her chest tightly. “He can’t.”

“It would’ve killed the two of them, but would also put an end to Chuck’s plans,” John says, trying to keep his tone even as the past floods back to him. It wouldn’t have stopped Moriarty. If they had survived somehow, he still would have ruined Sherlock’s reputation, threatened the three people most important to him and forced him to jump. You owe me a fall. Moriarty would have gone to any lengths to see that happen and must have had the pieces in place even then. God, how that man had fucked up their lives.

“What happened?” Gracie’s voice, thick with anticipation and dread, breaks John free from his thoughts. His gaze comes into focus again and he looks at his daughter for a moment before finding his voice.

“His phone rang,” he says simply.

“What?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide, her whole face rife with disbelief. John allows himself a small smile.

“Someone gave him another way to end the detective and make him useful in the process,” John says grimly. “So he just left. So did his henchmen, but Sam and Dean knew he would be back.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes in utter amazement. “What an ending. I can’t believe he got away. Did he come after Sam and Dean again?”

“Unfortunately,” John gives her a shallow nod, knowing he cannot tell her that story anytime soon. Maybe never.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie mutters. “When? How? Did they get away? Do they beat him?”

“Oh, no,” John shakes his head. “You get one story and that one was much longer than it should have been.”

“What? Dad!” Gracie cries, disappointment coloring her face and tone.

“You know the rules, Gracie,” John tells her firmly. “It’s late enough already. You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” Gracie grumbles after studying him long enough to see there is no hope of John changing his mind. She snuggles Pandy close to her cheek as John bends down to kiss her head.

“Good night, sweet pea,” John says into her hair and then sits up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gracie replies, already looking sleepy. John stands and replaces the chair by the desk. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table as he picks up his mug, leaving only the dim night light to illuminate the room.

“Good night,” John whispers. Gracie’s eyes are closed and she does not open them. John slips from the room and heads for the kitchen. It’s still fairly early, but John will only think of Sherlock if he stays awake. Even crap telly or a book will not distract him at this point.

John sighs and sets the mug in the sink. He goes to his bedroom and into the ensuite, cleans his teeth and readies for bed. Once his pajamas are on and he is staring at the ceiling in the dark, John allows his mind to unveil that portrait of Sherlock he keeps so tightly covered and looks at it for a long time. Being in London again and not even that far from Baker Street, John has resolutely kept the man from his thoughts and will not entertain the idea of going anywhere near his former flat, even just to see if Sherlock is still there. When John left with Mary, there were too many things left unsaid. It is too late to say them now.

John turns on his side with a sad sigh, closes his eyes and pulls the curtain over Sherlock’s ever-changing eyes once again.

---

There you are! Complete with a vision of creepy Moriarty and the pool. Incidentally, I have a great idea for a one shot involving the pool and what follows that strays wildly from canon (infamous eyebrow waggle). Hopefully I can start on it soon. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think about chapter 3 or teasers or any ideas that might be running through your heads. Have a great week, my friends, and thank you so much for your support and love. Makes my heart glow. Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #sherlock fanfic #John loves Sherlock

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perpetuallyfive · 4 years ago

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Schnee Week, Day 3: Weiss Ships

So I don’t actually have a finished fic or even a chapter to share today because until my sudden burst of creativity on Monday evening, I have been primarily focused on the next three chapters of Dishonored. (Roughly 31k words written so far across two chapters. It’s coming!) But one little thing I’ve been planning for a long time is on the back-burner and I thought I’d share an excerpt.

Way back at the end of 2019, pretty shortly after we met, @catalyswitch showed me a sketch she was working on of a Schneekos modern day AU and asked me for my thoughts.

This is the beginning of the fic I’ve been wanting to write since then.

Winter drives her (and her things) to campus, but Weiss moves in on her own. There’s some kind of important meeting — lots of covert messages on a blackberry, which is a thing these kinds of people still use — and Winter can’t delay any longer. It’s not like Weiss expected anything else.

Maintaining low expectations for others and high ones for yourself are sort of the Schnee motto. It saves a lot of disappointment in life, in general.

She decorates her room just fine on her own. Minimalism is another thing she’s grown accustomed to in the mansion mom gave up on renovating in between her fourth and fifth trip to rehab. Call the abandoned projects and clutter in the attic a metaphor for something, if you’re inclined to such dramatics.

Weiss has never had any need for those kinds of abstractions or distractions.

She hangs a single picture on her wall.

Unlike the family portrait that hangs in the dining room, this is casual. While that is carefully composed and well lit, this shows Weiss and Whitley amidst of a mess of wrapping paper, faces lit up with excitement and the soft glow of the lights from their Christmas tree. Winter is in the background, distributing the gifts. Mother sips some unknown liquid from a coffee mug.

Father is nowhere to be found, and the photo was surely taken by Klein. That’s clear enough in Weiss’s smile, which is confident and unrestrained.

Her posture is straight. Her eyes are bright.

It’s as if her past self was looking right out into the future, smiling at the person she is today.

First day of orientation, and she’s ready for anything.

Correction: the one thing Weiss Schnee was completely unprepared for is her roommate.

The girl is a whirlwind of chaotic confusion, and so is the rest of her family. At least, Weiss has to assume this mess of (noisy) people is somehow this girl’s family. None of them look alike. The two loudest (by only a small margin) are blond with smiles as big as their biceps.

None of them have really stopped talking since they burst into the room and began hanging all kinds of things from the walls on the other side of the room.

“What—” Weiss begins, but she has no idea where the question is going.

What’s there to ask?

“Yes, hello!” the person who is probably Weiss’s roommate — but looks much too young for it — shouts from just beneath the mattress she’s managed to get stuck underneath. One of the blondes lifts it off her, and she darts back out, flailing. “Hi! I am your roommate, Ruby. If that’s what your what was.” She stands at attention, hands on her hips, as if that justifies any part of this. “I’m the what’s what, if you were wondering.”

Weiss barely has time to catch her breath. She’s not sure this even counts as caught. “… what?”

“Exactly!”

The two blondes exchange looks and both laugh, but Weiss doesn’t think it’s very funny.

“You must be Weiss,” the man who technically looks old enough to be someone’s father says, holding out his hand to shake.

The other blonde keeps her arms folder over her chest. “Weiss Schnee, wasn’t it?”

She says it in the same way that everyone says it. As in, are you one of those Schnees, as in they know her father. As in they’ve turned on the news sometime in the past eight years. Everyone knows the Schnee family name; father hasn’t exactly been under the radar.

But all she says is, “That’s right,” while shaking the man’s hand. Firmly.

Always shake firmly. Father taught all of them that.

“Your father sure has his hands in a lot of pies.”

“He doesn’t, actually.”

“Doesn’t—”

“—know the first thing about cooking.” Another early lesson: know when to make your exit. Weiss stands abruptly, her stack of books completely forgotten on the bed. “Well I,” she begins, but she’s already made a fatal error.

Because the new roommate is noticing the books. “Oh, wow, are you majoring in political science?” She’s suddenly much too close to Weiss’s personal space, though for what reason is unclear. It’s just happening, and Weiss is along for the ride. “That’s so cool! I guess it makes sense, huh, because of your dad and everything.”

There’s the elephant in the room. The very large (very republican) elephant. “I chose my major for myself, actually.” It was not an easy or a quiet conversation, and certainly not one Weiss cares to repeat to these total strangers. “As I was just going to say, I have somewhere to be.” Somewhere far away from here, that is. Literally anywhere else. “It was lovely to meet all of you,” Weiss continues, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that she has learned absolutely none of their names.

The first place Weiss finds to hide that she doesn’t think her roommate will find her is the coffee shop. It’s clear from her demeanor that the child — very obviously too young to be at college, so perhaps some kind of prodigy which would explain the hyper active behavior and poor socialization — is in no need of further caffeination.

Coffee shops are also a useful place to disappear. It’s easy to blend in to a crowd of people all looking closer at their cups than they are each other.

Except of course for the table of jocks nearby. Weiss has absolutely nothing in common with any of them.

Even if some of them are aesthetically appealing.

On day three of avoiding her room and her roommate, Weiss discovers that said roommate — her name is Ruby, a fact Weiss intends to immediately forget again — does in fact require even further caffeination.

If she cared about this particular annoyance at all, she might be concerned about the state of her heart.

As it is, she’s more concerned with her own social standing being seen in public with an infant who only stops talking long enough to consume even more coffee.

“So anyway,” Ruby gasps, practically gargling her last gulp down. “What about you, are you excited for your first day of classes?”

Since Ruby is studying something else — what that is, Weiss can’t recall, although she’s probably repeated it more than once — and will come nowhere even close to a political science course, the answer is very obviously yes. Weiss tempers her excitement, somewhat, just for the sake of kindness.

“I’m overjoyed,” she says, almost neutrally.

“Yeah, me too.”

The jocks are there again today. They’re always there. Maybe the field they train on is nearby? Maybe they come here to study?

No, that doesn’t seem likely.

They’re all laughing (loudly) at something a boy with blue hair just said. Hopefully it was about something other than fashion decisions.

“Weiss?” Ruby says, as though she’s just repeating herself after perhaps even several attempts to get Weiss’s attention.

But all Weiss will offer in return is vague non-commitment. “Hm?”

“I was asking if you know them.” She points at the table that Weiss was very covertly staking out and Weiss slaps her hand back down. But Ruby just repeats the gesture with her other hand. “I only ask because you stare at Pyrrha a lot, and I was wondering if you wanted me to introduce you.”

“What, I do not,” Weiss answers without having any idea who Ruby’s even referring to.

At least.

Unless she means the redhead, because then yes. Weiss has been watching her off and on for the past three days, but surely so has everyone else in the cafe. They all have eyes after all.

Even if Weiss’s are currently bugging right out of her skull as Ruby jumps out of her seat. She can see what’s coming, but it’s already too late. “Pyrrha!” Ruby calls, her voice a clanging shriek.

Weiss recoils so hard from the sound that her eyes temporarily close. It’s such sweet relief safe in this darkness that she is reluctant to open them.

When she does, the redhead is there, at her table.

Her smile is confident but carefully contained. Her posture is relaxed and casual. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, with curls carefully framing her face.

“Oh,” Weiss breathes, before she can think better of it, before she can think at all. “Oh, hi.”

Years later, Weiss will wish she could remember what Pyrrha said next. But she doesn’t. She only remembers the way that smile pushed firmly into her chest, opening up an empty cavern of want that she had never known existed before.

The space inside, the empty need, felt almost limitless. It should have been awful.

But the one thing Weiss can remember from that exact moment is how much she was smiling.

#schnee week #schneekos #i swear this fic is schneekos (and some other background ships too) even if there isn't enough of it in this excerpt #i'm trying to focus on finishing the thing with the huge world and plot first! lol #pulling it home at the end has been um work #but in the meantime :)#my fic #rwby #(''background ships'' she says as if she doesn't intend for some of them to be really prominent. but look i'm trying to not make promises #that my brain doesn't end up able to cash etc. it's nice to hope something flows as comes across the way you want.#but it's another thing entirely to actually promise it when you've only written less than 2k words.)#(okay some of chapter two is also written but shhhhh.)

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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Twin Snowflakes 26: Preparation

[part 2 of 2]

Another day, another classroom bell. As far as Monday’s go, today was pretty harmless for Summer. Classes went by fast, Veronica only nagged her about what to eat for lunch, and P.E. was used for tournament announcements so she didn’t have to change. In a few minutes she’ll be able to walk out of the student council meeting and go home to escape-

“We’re all staying after school today, all of us.” Eliza said, filing papers.

Summer planted her head on the table. “Why do you hate me!? I’m nothing but kind to you.” She whined.

“Stop crying! Did you expect to go into the tournament performance cold turkey? This isn’t one of your concerts. Multiple things need to work at once. Which is why Harriet was kind enough to keep a platform up to act as a stage in the gym. You and your brother will have the band’s support.

Nick’s face turned to terror. He could see Summer’s face begin to get excited. “Summer, I know that look. Please remember that neither the band nor I are as skilled as you. Don’t go full dictator on us.”

She could only laugh and smile energetically. “That won’t be a problem if you hit the notes.”

“Not what I wanted to hear, Summer!”

Veronica got up from the table and packed her things. “You all have fun. I’m gonna get started on that outfit. The materials should be at your house by now.”

“Not so fast.” Eliza interjected, “Did you forget that you’re filling in on the cheer team? Their practice starts in fifteen minutes.”

“B-But my fabrics!” She gasped.

Eliza folded her arms confidently. “Sorry, tough luck. Harriet saw your moves and she gets what she wants. If only Amber didn’t twist her leg.”

Nick let out a snicker before hiding his smile from Veronica. Karma is a cruel mistress.

“I myself will oversee everything as best as I can while leading my own rehearsal. Don’t think twice to come find me, or the President, who should really be the one leading this meeting.”

“Nah you’re on a roll.”He smiled.

She gave him a glare before continuing. “Anyways, I also need somebody to let Valerie know the water heater is screwed up again and also that she should at least help with hauling supplies to Amity Arena; since she so rudely skipped this meeting.”

All of the council and other student body members turned to Nick instinctively. It was warranted but man did it blow. Summer glady stood up to take the bullet.

“I will tell her everything she needs to know, after rehearsals.”

“Works for me. Let’s move people! Time is ticking.” Eliza gathered her belongings and went out the door with the rest of the staff. Summer and Veronica gave him a nudge as they walked by. “You two still have enough time to do the outfit?”

“I fixed your sister’s uniforms in no time at all. I already have all her measurements I need so the annoying part is over.”

“What she said.” Summer added. “At this point I guess I’m being moved to wherever I’m supposed to be. Eugh, after school, even the name hurts my throat.”

“Think of it like this. We get to spend all day with Eliza!” Nick yelled out the door cheekily.

“I will answer none of your questions!” She yelled back, knowing she basically has to spend the entire day around Nick. She hadn’t told him yet but she was going to accept his offer. Her curiosity about his plan was too strong. The tournament was quickly approaching. Every step forward counts. Time to kick things into high gear.

Nick found the strength to leave the table and face judgment. “Alright, let’s get this pain over with.”

“Quit exaggerating! I will be a humble singing instructor.”

xxxxx

“COME ON NICK! YOU CALLED THAT A HARMONY!?” Summer was not humble, or quiet for that matter. “I know you can do better!”

Nick endured the criticism as he sipped his water. He was prepared for this but obviously the band wasn’t. Summer had everyone in their group scared stiff and onlookers watching in awe. This might be the first time they’ve heard her speak in school, let alone emote.

Her fiery nature was on full display and it’s intensity was higher than her ponytail. Free from uniform constraints, she wore compression tights and a thin long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame. Summer looked more sporty right now than she has in her entire school life.

The many eyes on the twins' practice didn’t seem to bother her. “Let’s take it from the top.” She grabbed her guitar and began to play immediately. A quick glare to the drummer snapped him out of his trance and got him to play, making the rest fall in line. Live practice was never a thing she did often. People ceased the opportunity all around the gym to watch magic be created before their ears.

Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold.

But you will remember me~

Remember me for centuries~

She nodded to Nick and he gripped his mic.

And just one mistake... is all it will take.

We’ll go down in history~

Their breathing synced up.

REMEMBER ME FOR CENTURIES~

Summer raised her fist, silencing the band. The performer turned towards her brother and band. A fraction of a smile crept onto her face. “Better. Not perfect, but much better.” She took a sip of water. “Not to be tyrant-”

“Yet here we are.” Nick said, earning a few laughs from the band and a glare from his sis. “What!? I’m boosting morale!”

“I know. It’s the only reason I’m not chewing your head off. Here I was about to compliment you too.”

“The biggest compliment you can give me is letting us finish the song completely. We’ve only gone about a fourth through it. Everyone knows this song.”

“Anybody can know a song but few feel it. I know you know this. The crowd at the tournament is gonna want hype and they’ll most likely sing along. Our job is to cultivate it to its peak. We are the opening of the event. I picked this song for a reason. If we come out firing on all cylinders then I know we can ride the wave through the whole song! Let me feel your hype, your energy!”

Nick pursed his lips. “If you want energy, then you let these guys have fun! Ice breaker time!” Nick spun around and pointed to the band. “Give me a funky beat!”

The members looked at one another, shrugging before kicking in a fun, funky classic; Billie Jean!

Nick let out the biggest “Yeah~” then started moonwalking around Summer. “Come on Summer, you can’t resist the beat!”

“Really? Of all the songs you think I’m just gonna-” She kicked her leg out and then twirled to the microphone.

She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene…!

Nick hopped with joy before chiming in as the band jammed out. Eliza watched the two from off stage with her color guard troop in disbelief, joined by Veronica seconds later in her cheerleader uniform. Eliza waved her hand to her group. “Guys, take ten. I guess it’s break time.”

“Those two seem to be having a ball. They always like this with council stuff?”

“Hardly. It’s the only reason why I’m not yelling at them right now. Can’t remember the last time they looked happy to participate. They can laugh their lungs out as long as the work gets done. Might motivate the others. Anyways, how are you holding up?”

“Oh you know, as much as a newbie could be in this situation.” Veronica shook her pom-poms for dramatic effect. “Feels nice to do something like this again though. It’s like wearing an old glove.”

“History with cheerleading?”

“Gymnastics, my ribbon work doesn’t stop with a needle. That was some time ago but I digress.”

“I see. Well...you move like a pro.” Eliza said, a little stuttery. She played with her hands a bit while focusing on the twins.

Her elevated heart rate rang like a bell while her movements reminded Veronica of herself whenever she first met Coco Axel. “So...a little birdy told me I got a fan of my work here? Got any clue who?” She teased, enjoying Eliza's jump a little. Poor girl's cheeks went red.

Eliza felt a crushing betrayal. “Which twin opened their big mouth?”

“Is the ‘who’ that important?”

“Ah so it’s both?”

Veronica tucked her lips in. “Uhhh I won’t confirm or deny that. To think I’d have a fan all the way up in Atlas?”

“Please, we don’t have to discuss .”

“Why not? No reason to hide it. I’m honestly flattered by it. Civil rights movements don’t attract the right kind of like-minded individuals typically. Then there’s the obvious regional differences.”

“Huh? Regional differences?” Eliza tilted her head. “Have faunus here been giving you a hard time?”

“No, but that’s because I’m making zero effort to approach them. Faunus here as a whole are treated crueler than other places. An outsider like me coming in and trying to ‘relate’ never goes over smoothly.”

Eliza was surprised. She had never heard of that before. “Oh, I guess I was being a bit presumptuous. Apologies.”

“No it’s fine. It’s just one of those annoying little things. A lot of the preach about wanting a voice and equality but sing a different tune when those voices start speaking because they aren’t the ones those people had in their heads. Sigh, we faunus are fickle creatures.”

“Boy, sounds like you hate your job?”

Veronica laughed, “Haha! I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe it’s my unique circumstance but as far as my personal beliefs go, Faunus and Humans are basically the same. They both hate and judge others far too viciously due to bias. I may advocate for our rights, but I’m not above calling ourselves out. It’s probably why the elders especially don’t care for my efforts.”

Veronica turned to Eliza and smiled. “Sorry, rambled for a bit there. Hope I’m ruining your hero perception of me. That is if I am a hero to you?”

“No. Wait! I mean it’s not ruined! You’re definitely inspiring to me. So much in fact that I got a cool magazine cover of you!” It took a minute, but Eliza’s brain registered what she had just said. “I…why did I tell you that?” Eliza facepalmed.

Vee was in shock. Her jaw slowly fell open. “Wow, you are a total fangirl right now. I didn’t think you could look embarrassed. Ha, you’re adorable blushing!”

“Please don’t talk about it…”

“Can I see the magazine cover? I’ll be honest. I rarely pay attention to those puff pieces. My mom handles all that.”

“Really?” Eliza patted her pockets before pulling out her scroll. “It’s from your rally in Vale.”

Veronica had a peek. “Oh I remember this!” The picture was from a year ago. Vale’s rally was pretty huge and loud. The photo was taken right when she had stood proudly on top of a car with a megaphone, protesters following her to city hall. “Not to toot my own horn but look so cool in this.”

“It’s surprising you’ve never seen it.”

“My eyes are usually glued to my sketchbook or a threaded needle. If I’m looking at myself then it’s in the mirror to see how fabric falls onto me or someone else. Speaking of clothes, maybe I can make you an outfit? First one is free. Just wear it to an event; tell your friends about it.”

Eliza lit up, but then immediately started to cringe. “An event is no problem. However...uhhh, yeah, rain check in the whole friend part. A social butterfly, I am not. Don’t have friends.”

“Uh Nick and Summer?”

“Gross.”

Veronica could barely stop herself from laughing out loud. The speed in which Eliza answered was swift to say the least. “Wow, and I thought the twin’s aunt was blunt? Are you sure that message is clear to them, because I’m positive they think you’re a friend.”

“I’m friendly, but not a friend.”

“Do you have their number?”

“Yes.”

“Sad to say you’re their friend. Don’t fight it.”

“What!? That’s not how- what!? From what I understand you and Summer aren’t friends, but I’m positive you have her number.”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah, but that’s necessary for multiple reasons. Besides, we actively shit talk one another. I reckon you don’t. I’m not saying you three are tightly knit. Just that you’re close enough.”

Eliza folded her arms and huffed. “I suppose so. That’s...annoying.”

“Look on the bright side.” Veronica grabbed Eliza’s scroll to put her number in. “Now you aren’t alone. We can complain about their antics together.”

The grin Veronica gave Eliza made her Eliza sheepish. The abrasive girl took her scroll back. “That...sounds nice.” She laughed under her breath.

Veronica couldn’t stop examining Eliza. This girl was all over the place! It was a little funny, awkward, and yet flattering. “Is this how the twins feel meeting fans?” The young lady could get used to this.

“Your last name is Marigold right? I’m so used to such a fierce expression that seeing you like this feels a bit unusual.”

“Used to? I take it you’ve spoken to my aunt then?” Eliza lit up.

“Not really. She’s been at events my mom dragged me to before. Didn’t speak with her directly but she looked pretty interesting. Her and my mom worked together before. You both and your father have some strong genes. I bet the mom must be jealous.”

“I...doubt it.” Eliza said, her tone drifting. The smile on her face faded back to neutrality. A silent breath escaped her lips while her eyes gazed into distance. Her change in attitude didn’t go unnoticed. Veronica’s ears fell watching her.

“Shit, did I...bring up something touchy?”

“It’s okay, honestly. I just wouldn’t know how my mom feels since...I’ve never had one.”

“Oh. I had no idea. Do you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Not really. It’s really not that big of a deal. You just caught me off guard since I’m used to people knowing that part of my life.” Eliza raised both her hands and gave her face a light slap to get out of her funk. Moping about nothing is pointless. Right now she was talking to Veronica, a person she admires! This was supposed to be exciting! “Phew! That’s better. Let’s change the subject. I don’t know much when it comes to fashion, but I have read about some of your involvement in contests.”

For a moment it felt like Veronica’s body had been hit by a truck. The muscles in her body constricted at once and her stomach felt queasy. “Have you now?”

“Just a little bit. It came up from time to time when I learned about your work with your mother. I gotta say your outfits definitely have your personality. More so than some of your contestants.”

“Heh, that’s not what judges think.” Vee uttered. “Not a first place prize to my name.”

“That may be true but that doesn’t make your designs less interesting in my opinion, but I know how you feel. It stings entering contests and sometimes not even making it to the end. Still, I really thought one dress in particular had it in the bag but…” Eliza silenced herself suddenly. She had forgotten the topic of this particular contest may not be light at all. “You...got disqualified?” She finished, cringing at her own stupidity.

“Yep. I got disqualified. No medal at all for that one.”

The air felt dead. Eliza clicked her tongue. “I had forgotten that part. The article never said why though, so it stuck out to me. If..if you don’t mind-”

“I actually do, a lot.” Veronica’s sharp response made Eliza jump a little. A few people passing by took notice of the aggressive tone, making Veronica mentally kick herself. “Shit, that wasn’t supposed to be so...I’m touchy about that day.”

Eliza waved off the comment like she was the one in the wrong. “It’s fine! I should’ve known better.”

“I guess we’re both even now huh?”

“Even!? I wasn’t trying to get back at-”

“Haha, relax before your heart explodes. It was just a tease.”

Eliza’s for got red. “Oh...of course.”

“You weren’t kidding about not having friends. I thought I was bad at small talk.”

Eliza held her head down. “I’m like a dumpster fire…”

“Ha, I can see that. I guess I’m fortunate to do speeches often. Easily the savior of my social skills. My parents are great but I wouldn’t say they aren’t the most elegant people in conversations. At least not ones that aren’t in front of a camera where they have to be. In a regular conversation they are as uncoordinated as they come.”

“I can see that. Yang’s sister does live here after all. She definitely has her own way of holding a conversation.”

“Pfft, that’s one way to put it. Just shake it off. We’re all kinda tone dead I guess.” Veronica laughed. This was fun. This was actually fun. Talking casually, who would’ve thought? She grabbed her water bottle to drink.

Eliza was also having a pleasant time. She was running low on conversation starters though. There had to be something that shouldn’t go horribly wrong. That’s when it came to her…

“So your head over heels for Nick right?”

Water sprayed out of Veronica’s mouth. How did each question keep getting her!? It shouldn’t even have been that bad yet here she was, choking over the most basic thing that everyone knew! Normally she hated being touched but feeling Eliza pat her back was gladly welcomed.

If Eliza didn’t feel bad before, then she definitely did now. “I am so sorry!” her voice was so spastic it would make Summer look calm. “I told you I’m terrible at this!”

“No, agh, no… this one is me!” Veronica coughed. “Damn, that really hurt my chest. It’s like the entire gulp went down the wrong pipe!” A few more coughs and another sip of water cured the promise. Veronica rubbed her chest and tearfully looked at Eliza. “Yeah I’m into him. Why do you ask?” Her desire to act like she didn’t nearly die was strong. “Wait, don’t tell me you like him too!?”

Water wasn't the only thing that was gonna be on the floor with questions like that. Eliza made a face that looked like she may have gagged out of spite. “Ugh, not a chance.” She folded both her arms aggressively.

“Cool, that would’ve been weird.” Veronica thought. Then Eliza began rubbing her chin. That was never a good sign.

“Weeeeeell…” Eliza said.

Veronica deflated like a balloon. “Here we go…”

“Huh? No! It’s not what you think. I don’t like him like that, or much at all really. However, I can’t deny he is...charming to put mildly. I can recognize that. As a whole, I don’t like Nick that much. There’s too much that grinds my gears. That said, there is a side to him I deeply appreciate. Don’t tell him that or I’ll deny it.”

Her tidbit made Vee’s cat ears wiggle. “You gonna leave me hanging like that? Elaborate a little.”

“Really? I didn’t want to diss him in front of you or anything.”

“Tah! Nick doesn’t need anyone coming to his defense and I’m not gonna bite your head off over an opinion, most likely.” She had to add that last part. Veronica doubted Eliza was going to say something that would be unapologetically mean but you can never know what a person could say. “Speak your mind.”

Eliza looked towards the stage to watch the council president in question adjust some light equipment to put on his sister. “That boy is...selfish in the wrong way.”

That sure was an answer. Veronica tilted her head. “I...don’t follow.”

“Nicholas Schnee is a people pleaser, yet he goes out of his way to do things on his own and inefficiently. He has the qualities of a great leader but doesn’t truly lead anyone. Instead he bends over backwards. This entire concert was his idea yet he chose not to fill anybody in on this for weeks; leaving us in the dark when we could’ve been further along. All that money, trust, and influence, yet I fail to see him use it with the care I know he knows how to do. It’s so annoying! Agh, I wish I had a fraction of what his name has.”

“Sounds like to me you’re a little envious?”

“A bit, but that doesn’t change my view of him. You know him. Am I wrong?”

“I’m the last person to judge right or wrong here, but I see what you mean. Nick definitely has his faults, no argument there. I told him the other day he was a bit pushy at times and overbearing. Still, I wouldn’t say those qualities are bad. Nick is… a man on a mission.”

The administration in Veronica’s eyes was clearer than air to Eliza. “Opinions aside, his heart is good. The love he has for family and friends is undeniably. I respect that.”

“Is that the part you deeply appreciate?”

Eliza shook her head. “No, that quality is a given. The side I like is one few people see. I witnessed it for the first time at a red carpet event several years ago. It was our first time actually speaking. I stubbornly declared I’d beat him in a tournament and show everyone how beneath me he was.”

“Wow, your social skills really are rough.”

“Cut me some slack. I was fourteen and cocky. Anyways, I expected him to laugh it off and give that fake smile he gives to the public. Instead, he gave this smug smirk at me and said ‘I can’t wait.’ It was actually chilling. I could tell from his eyes that he was threatening, no, intimidating me. He had no problem letting me know he wanted to take me down, and that’s exactly what he did on tournament day. However, right before our match, Nick took me to the side to chat. It was my first tournament. The anxiety I had was a plan on my face. Instead of using that weakness, he gave me tips to calm down. Having him focus solely on me in that ring was thrilling, different from his usual self. There’s an honesty about it I like. No way somebody can be nice all the time.”

It was for that very reason Eliza knew she had to hear Nick’s offer out. Whenever that look comes out, it spells trouble for who caused it. To think the plan involved beating Valerie? What could he possibly be up to?

Veronica rubbed her chin, intrigued. “So that’s your reasoning. Hmm.” She snapped her fingers and smirked. “Masochistic.”

Eliza bugged out. Her jaw dropped and she was seconds away from protest, until the snickering from Veronica let her know she was teasing again. A smile slowly formed and Eliza playfully elbowed Vee. “Shut up.” She laughed. “Talk about a mood killer.”

Veronica stuck her tongue out before breaking out into laughter when Eliza. Hard to believe the key to being social was being kinda bad at it? It was nice making a friend. Veronica didn’t say it but they were glad to be here.

Across the room, the gym door opened. “Well look who’s having fun!?” A voice bellowe, the condescending echo gaining everyone’s attention. To many’s displeasure, it was Darren sauntering in with his silent partner Max behind him. “Sounds like a real party here. Care if I join? Maybe shake things up a little?”

The upperclassman paced like he owned the place, watching. “Hard at work for my big day?” His eyes go to the stage. “Well if it isn’t the Jester of the School!”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Very original. I’d love to hear more of this comedy act but unfortunately the gym is closed for regular students. Please take your friend and your clown makeup somewhere else.”

“Pfft, you diss like a child.”

“Said the man who called me a jester.” Be it a deity or the universe itself, people should count themselves lucky Nick had high tolerance for stupidity. Darren’s presence was grinding it down however. Punches and nearly getting a friend hit by an asshole’s car did that to an individual.

Summer could see the sparks fly between the two. Grabbing the microphone from Nick with no hesitation, Summer took the lead. Unfortunately for Darren she didn’t have her brother’s tolerance, and she was on her favorite spot in the whole world. “You’re interrupting our practice and wasting my time. Beat it.”

The gym went silent. Did everyone hear that right? Summer Schnee...was rude!? Darren blinked twice, stunned. “Excuse me but, nobody was talking to you.”

“And nobody invited you. Scram.” She shooed him away as if he was a bug.

“Now is that anyone to talk to a superior? I don’t care how famous you are or what your last name is, you little princess. You just keep singing like a little songbird; it’ll be the only good press you get that day before losing to yours truly!”

Summer out of this expression of confusion. “And your name is…? Sorry, I just have a really hard time with faces when they don’t even rank in the top five.” Multiple ‘oooos’ and chatter started going. “Is Dean? Dunce? …..Dumb and Dumber?”

Max let out a simple “Hmph” while Darren got pissed. “So you got jokes huh?” He said through his teeth. It only took one step closer before Nick immediately stepped in front of his sister. Before either could give the audience a glimpse of tournament match l, Eliza flicked the lights off and on to gain everyone’s attention.

“HEY! Knock it off, all of you.” She demanded. Darren’s gaze came her way and towards Veronica by extension. Eliza took a step between the two, stopping a problem before it could start. “Na uh, eyes on me. One word to her and I might let Principal Coal know. May I remind you that after recent behavior it would behoove you to act like a respectable upperclassman, or else-”

“Hey hey hey there, little one, I just came in here to mingle a little; shoot the breeze and all. I’m not the one who got all bent out of shape and started insulting people. Ain’t that right Max?”

Unbothered, Max put his hands behind his head. “That is what happened; dumb jokes or not.”

“Yeah that’s- hey! You aren’t talking about my jokes are you!?”

Eliza took a deep breath. “Consider the breeze shot to hell. Now if you would kindly be on your way so-”

“Uuuugh, you’re so boring, acting like a lifeless doll and shit. Even her frail and tone deaf highness behind me showed some backbone for once.”

“Tone deaf!?” Summer yelled. She would’ve thrown her microphone if Nick didn’t take it from her. “Oh I really hope your bite is at least half as good as your bite. This ‘Princess’ thinks you deserve a public beat down for the world to see, personally delivered!”

“See you at the tournament!” Nick added.

Darren pointed behind himself. “See? At least they’re interesting.”

“If getting egged on by your limp insults is what you want then why should I even bother?” Eliza stepped to the side. “Best be on your way. You can earn my wrath whenever you feel man enough to enter a solo tournament instead of hiding behind your partner.”

“Oh yeah?” Darren glared. “Tough talk from a-” The back of his shirt was pulled by Max.

“Time to go. You’ve had your fun, and I’m getting a headache. No use talking. Let the tournament do all the bragging.” Max began dragging Darren to the exit until Darren brushed him off to walk himself. He gave Eliza one last pissed off look before giving a smug face as he walked away. “Tsk, drug baby.” He mumbles.

Loud footsteps and the sound of metal clanged behind him. Darren quickly turned around, ready for a fight. “Well I guess you can get ma-”He didn’t move. What he thought was Eliza losing her cool was actually her defending him with her baton from a very pissed heir with an Arma Gigas.

“He’s quicker than he looks.” Max grabbed Darren again and all but tossed him out the gym before any actions became an incident.

“Care to tell me why you wanna fight my battles?” Eliza complained.

“I’m not fighting your battles. My patience just got a little restless.” Nick unsummoned his blade and walked away. Thoughts of last night suddenly came to mind, making him sigh. “Sorry. Overstepped a bit. I’m gonna cool off.” He groaned.

Eliza rubbed the back of her head. That was...off. Nick must’ve been more ticked off by Darren than she was aware of. “Just don’t get so jumpy. The last thing I need is you not being able to kick his ass because you got suspended.”

“Haha yes ma’am.”

Eliza clapped her hands loudly. “Okay everyone! Get back to business!” She shouted, returning everything to normal. Thank the gods for at least giving Eliza cooperative staff members. Her body slumped over. Why can’t any event be peaceful! Damn that Darren! Now she wished he was in the solo bracket. Her head lifted to look at Veronica. “I take it if Nick heard that then so did you?”

“Little bit. I can pretend I didn’t. Makes no difference to me.”

“Don’t sweat it. Who likes beading around the bush anyways? You asked about my mom earlier. Now you basically know. To make a long story short, my dad in his younger years spent his money in...less than responsible ways. Who needs love when there’s plenty of clubs and corners with people looking to make a quick buck? My mother just so happened to get a little more than just lien.”

Veronica’s face scrunched up. “Yikes. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Not really. Never had a mom so it’s not like I’m yearning for a connection when there never was one to start with. One day my dad noticed her pregnant and like you said before, I have strong features. A woman parading around with no home, every drug under the sun, and a potential baby that looked like the CEO of a company one kingdom above is a recipe for ruin. Many board members thought it best for my father to deny anything and everything. Apparently a few of them along with some kind individuals thought it best to move my mother in with him. This way the baby, me, would at the very least be healthy.”

“What about your mother?”

“Ultimatum. Fall in line with this new society and learn to act like a high class citizen, or take a generous amount of money to keep quiet. I don’t look like her so spinning a story wouldn’t do her well, and high class society didn’t mean she could get high any hour of the day. Took the money and never looked back. Tabs were kept on her for a while but she eventually became white noise among the gutter trash of Mantle. A druggie with tons of cash is never good. Most likely ended up in a gutter from overdose or somebody who caught wind of her spending habits.”

“Eliza that’s...I’m sorry that happened.”

“Eh, I’m not losing sleep over it. Not like I got a bad deal either. Contrary to what people might say about my name, my father is a decent man and cares for me as well. He’s by no means perfect but who is? Aunt May told me once that if nothing else, my dad doesn’t make problems bigger than what they have to be. I didn’t ask to be born, so resenting me would be shallow. We get along and that’s all that matters family wise. Though...it’s not like he got a raw deal out of it.” Eliza conjured a small flame in her hand. “He took the high road and learned he got Remnant’s first magical daughter in ages. Talk about good karma.”

“Way to look at the positives.” Veronica said.

Eliza put out the flame. “It’s just the facts. Unfortunately rumors floated and not all people were happy with the decision, so little tidbits here and there got learned. As you can see with Darren’s mouth almost getting him into trouble. The only thing bigger than his mouth is his ego.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with his type.” Veronica said with annoyance. She was too familiar with it.

“Anywho, I should get back to practice. Thanks for chit chatting. And people say it’s bad to meet your heroes and stuff. I guess they’re meeting the wrong ones.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I mean I’m pretty rad but you know...modesty and all that. I’m no Blake Belladonna or Yang Xiao Long. Just little ol’ me.” Veronica chuckled. “See ya around?”

“Sooner than you might think.” Eliza twirled her baton and went on her way.

Veronica watched the girl leave. No wonder Nick chose Eliza to be the one to keep an eye on her. She was tough as nails; with or without the uniform! A shame Darren outed her like that. Veronica felt a little dirty learning something Eliza didn’t want to tell her. Veronica was surprised that Eliza didn’t ask for her to return the favor. Then again, it would’ve been pointless. Veronica knew herself. She wouldn’t say a word regardless of fairness. She might have even lied. The girl let out a sigh, taking a moment to look down at herself before heading back to practice. Some things are just better left unsaid.

#rwby #rwby twin snowflakes #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #eliza marigold #veronica belladonna #darren diabhalta #max winchester

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romanceforransom · 4 years ago

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There was a writer!sander fic that i started a little while ago but didn’t know where to go with it. So, I decided to post it here 🤷‍♀️

I might continue it...? idk. but let me know what you think :)

I ran into my local bookshop, the bell notifying my entrance as I swung open the heavy wooden door.

I had made sure to set my alarm extra early for that morning, giving myself enough time to get there before I had to make my way to work. There was a book that I had been waiting what felt like years for, and I wanted to pick it up as soon as humanly possible.

“Has it come?” I asked excitedly, rushing over to the front desk and locking eyes with an amused Zoë

She was used to my erratic behaviour by now, becoming desensitised to my hyperactive persona that I don whenever a new book comes out.

Not that I do it with every book. Of course, I love most things that come out, burying my nose in anything that I possibly can. But nothing gets me quite as excited as the books by Earthling Oddity.

Nobody knew this unknown author’s real name, or what they looked like. The air of mystery obviously created a lot of hype, gaining them a lot of followers trying to crack the code and reveal the hidden identity. What really made them popular, though, was the magical way they created stories.

I was always completely enraptured by the words written on the pages. Becoming engrossed in the fictional world they created and riding out the waves of emotions that came with the storylines.

They had come out with a new book recently, a new addition to one of their series, and I had been patiently (except not really. Unless pacing up and down the flat and checking my phone constantly for updates was considered as being patient) for it to be delivered to my bookstore.

“It’s here” Zoë replied, sounding amused “I reserved one for you, even though I knew you would be the first one in here today”

She reached underneath the desk and produced the long-awaited book

I stared at it in awe, admiring the bright colours and detailed art on the front cover.

“Wow” I breathed out, smiling

“You looking forward to reading it?”

I tore my eyes away from the book and looked up at her, squinting my eyes slightly “Seriously? I have been counting down the days for this book! Of course, I’m looking forward to finally being one step closer to unravelling the mystery that lies between the pages…”

She chuckled as I lifted my hand to tenderly stroke the front cover “Should I leave you two alone?”

“No, that’s ok” I said, picking it up and placing it gently in my backpack “I have to get going anyway”

“Ok, well keep me updated on it!”

I walked backward towards the door, grinning “Hourly updates are a given”

***

“Why are you carrying your bag so carefully?” Jana asked me curiously as I got to work

I had placed it gently on the ground in the back room with my coat, not wanting to damage the valuable contents lying inside of it.

“Seriously Jana? It’s got the book that I’ve been waiting months for”

Realisation washed over her face. I had been talking her ear off about it for a number of shifts. The amount of information she had actually been listening to and retaining would forever be a mystery, but she let me talk all the time without much judgement so that was the main thing.

“Aah ok, that makes more sense”

I pulled my apron over my head “What did you think was in there?”

She shrugged as she went back to stacking food in the display case “Judging by the way you were handling it, I thought for sure there was a bomb in there”

I shook my head at her amusedly “So your co-worker has a bomb, and you don’t do a thing to stop it? The least you could have done was taken my bag”

“We have a full shift ahead of us, Robbe” she deadpanned “Excuse me for not having much pep right now. I want to move as little as possible and retain the small amount of energy I have stored. Wrestling a bomb from you would probably take everything I had”

“Oh, come on. Shifts here aren’t that bad”

She raised her eyebrows at me “Go out all night drinking before our next shift and then tell me that again”

We both worked at a coffee shop in town. I actually quite enjoyed it. Being able to chat with people and brighten their day with coffee and cakes was a nice feeling.

Of course, it wasn’t something I wanted to do forever. Film making was my passion, the thing that I aspired to do in the future. Maybe even make some adaptations of Earthling’s books. Who knows? But, for now at least, I had to make do with making drinks.

Unlike me, Jana really did not like her job. She liked interacting with the customers, being the social butterfly she is, but the part where she actually had to serve and clean was never really something she enjoyed doing.

If I got paid every time she moaned when cleaning down the tables, there would be no need for this job. I would be rolling in money. She always claimed that it was manual labour, and she was going to sue the company for it. It did make me wonder what she thought would happen when she signed up for the job, but I never dared ask as she was always in a mood. It was best not to make things worse and just nod along.

“So, that book you have” she said “That’s the one with the mystery author, right?”

I nodded “Yep, they use a pen name. Lots of people have obviously tried to step forward and claim to be the author but the real one has yet to be revealed. If they ever will be. Fame isn’t for everyone, so I wouldn’t blame them for keeping hidden and basking silently in the glory of their writing”

“Aren’t you curious about who it is?” she asked me

“Well, yeah” I replied “I have always wondered who it is. I would love to be able to properly give my gratitude to the person that created such wonderful books… but I wouldn’t go out of my way to try and drag someone into the spotlight that doesn’t want to be there”

Many people on the internet have been trying to do exactly that. I have never understood why. Sure, you want to be the one to solve this giant question. But if it involves having to invade someone’s private life and tear down all the security and boundaries, they have built around them in order to remain anonymous, why would you want to do that?

What does revealing a random stranger’s identity add to your life? Nothing. It wouldn’t make you best friends with this person. In fact, you would probably end up as public enemy number one. Snooping in other people’s business isn’t cute, it’s creepy. Especially when they go out of their way to hide it.

The customers began flooding in. People coming in for their takeaway cups of coffee to beat away the morning tiredness. Monday’s were always especially bad. The weekend always wipes people out. Combining that with five days left of work looming over their head, a constant reminder of the seemingly never-ending week ahead of them, anyone would be exhausted.

Then, after a while, I spotted a familiar head of bleach blonde head of hair among the crowd out the corner of my eye.

“Robbe” I heard Jana hiss beside me as I continued making drinks for the awaiting customers “He’s here!”

Sander was a regular at the shop. He would always come in with an easy smile on his face and instantly brighten my day.

He was one of the most beautiful people I had ever laid my eyes on. Not only that, but he was also incredibly kind. Always dishing out compliments and making conversation with us while he patiently waited for his order. He has even defended us a couple of times when customers have been rowdy and impatient during the rush hours. Sander was just an all-round saint.

Jana knew that I had a small crush on him. I never told her outright, but she saw the way my face lit up whenever he was around and joined the dots herself.

I waited until he got to the front of the line and greeted him with a shy smile, trying not to blush like I normally did

“Hey, Robbe!” he said, grinning “How are you this morning?”

“I’m good” I squeaked “Will it be your usual, today?”

Ok, so maybe small crush was a bit of an understatement. He always seemed to make me tongue tied and act like a complete idiot. Which was a great way to act in front of someone you want to impress.

He nodded “You know me so well. Either that or I am in here too often”

“Nonsense!” Jana called to him “We love having you in here, Sander… some more than others” she muttered under breath, meaning only for me to hear it

As I was making his drink (a chocolate mocha – which was basically just a fancy coffee with chocolate, always with whipped cream on top) he leaned against the counter, making light conversation with Jana and me. He never seemed aware that we were at work and that he might be holding up the queue. Not that there were many of them at that moment. He had come just at the right time, most of the people filing out and going to their jobs.

“So, did that book come that you were talking about?” he asked me

“Um, yeah” I was surprised he remembered. I had made an offhand remark about it a few weeks back. But then, he always did seem to pick up on small details like that often “I got it this morning before I came to work. The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is run home to read it”

“Really?” he said, sounding faintly surprised “You are that eager to read it?”

I turned towards him, placing the steaming cup of coffee on the tray next to the croissant Jana got for him.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for it for so long… it takes priority over everything else as far as I’m concerned”

“You know Robbe” Jana said teasingly from beside me, jabbing me lightly in the side “forever a bookworm”

Sander smiled as he picked up the tray from the counter “When I come back, you’ll have to tell me how you’re finding it”

Just as I was about to reply, Jana jumped in “He’ll only have good things to say. He’s obsessed with this author, won’t shut up about them. It’s kind of annoying actually”

He smirked “Maybe I’ll have to check them out”

“You should!” I told him enthusiastically “Their works are amazing. Even if you aren’t really into reading, this person can have you drawn in with just a page of their writing”

“I don’t doubt that, I’m sure you have impeccable taste” Sander said, winking at me

He often did that but even after weeks of seeing it, I was still blown away each time. He always seemed to take my breath away without even trying.

Sander made his way over to a table, placing his tray down and taking out his small black notebook as normal. It was his daily routine and moved like clockwork every time. I don’t think there has been a single day he has come in when he hasn’t been scribbling away dedicatedly in there, pen moving furiously across the paper.

I was always curious about what he was doing in it, but never dared ask. It could be something deeply personal and private, I wouldn’t want to invade his comfort zone like that.

He was in his own world when he wrote. As soon as the book was opened it was like a protective bubble opened up around him, blocking out anyone and everything from his work. If we wanted to ask if he wanted a refill or anything else to eat, it would take a few tries to get his attention. Sander manages to block it out so easily.

Although it was a similar thing when I read. It was like escaping to another realm where nobody could reach you. Like a haven that you could take shelter in and escape from all your problems, if only for a short amount of time.

#wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fanfic #fanfic

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euphoria-vmin7 · 5 years ago

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Gnossienne Pt.3 | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: angst, violence (though it’s not too too graphic), mentions of blood, swearing, non idol! au, mentions of weapons (guns, etc.), some fluff but it’s mostly angst, mafia! au

words: 6,366

rating: pg-15 (violence and swearing)

–summary: how could you have been so blind? didn’t you know everything about him?

a/n: okay YES i know that i haven’t updated this series in forever but i kinda got stuck on it. but now i’ve figured myself out SO here’s part 3!! i hope you guys like it :)

Gnossienne

gno·ssi·enne

n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life

****

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Yoongi quickly looked down at the shirt in his hand. Reddish, iron colored blotches and streaks littered the front of the white t-shirt.

“Woah, hey!” he said, trying to catch your appalled gaze. “Yes, it’s blood. I sliced my finger while cutting vegetables for my grandma. See?”

He held up his left hand where the pointer and middle fingers were wrapped with gauze.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged. You sighed in relief.

“Jeez, that scared me. That’s a lot of blood, I thought something worse happened,”

“Nah, I didn’t realize I hurt myself at first so I ended up getting the blood everywhere,”

You nodded in understanding before taking his hand.

“Still, I don’t like that you got hurt like this,” you said quietly, smoothing your thumb over his palm. He shook his hand out of your grasp and instead raised it to your cheek.

“Hey, I’m fine. I promise. Don’t worry so much. You trust me right?” he asked, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm and nodded immediately.

“Always,”

Min Seo ran up to you on Monday morning, an eager smile gracing her face.

“Well?”

You raised a brow, your coffee mug pausing halfway to your lips.

“Well what?”

She clicked her tongue in irritation and she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean ‘well what’? What did he say?” she pressed. You blinked, feeling stupid.

“What did who say?”

She stared at you.

“(Name), sometimes I wonder just how stupid you are,”

“Excuse me?”

“Yoongi, (Name). Yoongi!”

“What about Yoongi?!”

She groaned with unhidden exaggeration.

“What did he say? About your promotion?”

You gasped.

“He’s back, right? You mentioned that he was back on Saturday. So what did he say?” she asked with a grin. You weakly smacked her, realizing your fault.

“I forgot to tell him,” you sighed, putting your hand on your forehead. She blinked owlishly

“What?! How do you forget something like that?? You telling me that you didn’t talk to him at all since last week? Not even on the phone?!”

“No! I did, I just thought I’d surprise him,” you groaned. She rolled her eyes at you and shook her head.

“Wow (Last Name) (Name) you really amaze me with your stupidity sometimes,”

You glared at her and pulled out your phone.

[4:03 p.m.] (Name): you wanna go out for dinner tonight?

“What better way to surprise him than over dinner?” you smiled as you tucked your phone away. Min Seo flashed you a thumbs up. You grinned and sat back down at your desk, resuming research. Since your story had done well, your supervisors were looking for a continuation and more stories about these gangs. So the story was now assigned to you and you were in charge of finding more things about them.

“Looks like we’re stuck together huh, buddy?” you muttered, placing a palm under your cheek as you zoomed into a blurry screenshot of one of the members - the bulky one with a lot of piercings.

[4:14 p.m.] Grumpy: sure. what’s the occasion?

[4:15 p.m.] (Name): to celebrate the end of my peace and quiet

[4:15 p.m.] Grumpy: and for that reason you’ll be paying

You smoothed down the folds of your dress and smiled at your reflection. Sure, it wasn’t too fancy of a dinner, but it was still more posh than the two of you regularly indulged in, so why not dress up?

“You’re really not gonna tell me why we’re doing this?” Yoongi asked, walking into the bathroom while buttoning up his collared shirt.

“I told you it was to celebrate the end of peace for me,” you smiled teasingly, letting your eyes rest on his frowning reflection.

“Okay okay,” you sighed catching his expression. “Truth is, I missed you and I just wanted to spend time with you,” you confessed, turning away from the mirror to look at him. Yoongi smiled, his gums emerging from behind his pink lips. He didn’t say anything else, simply opting for a chaste kiss to your forehead before exiting the bathroom.

You bit your lip in excitement as Yoongi’s car pulled up to the restaurant and quickly stepped out. Yoongi followed behind you while loosening his tie in irritation. You laughed softly as you told the hostess your name.

“Why did you wear a tie if you weren’t gonna be comfortable?”

“Well you dressed up nice so I didn’t wanna come looking like I was homeless,” he grumbled, his hand dropping his tie and instead slipping around your waist. You snorted.

“Don’t you wear a tie to work everyday?” you asked and Yoongi licked his lips.

“Irrelevant,”

You chuckled as the hostess led you both to your table and you took a seat. After some measly small chat and once your orders were placed, you cleared your throat and placed your hands on the table. Yoongi looked up from his bread with a raised brow.

“I have something to tell you,” you tried to say seriously though your leg was bouncing in excitement.

“Yes?” Yoongi asked, putting his knife down. You were about to tell him, but Yoongi’s phone went off, vibrating against the table. Your eyes darted to the screen and took in the caller ID.

“Shit,” Yoongi muttered, before declining the call. His dark eyes settled back on you and he smiled lightly. “What were you saying?”

“Oh,” you grinned, pushing the two letters out of your head. “Well, while you were in Dae-” you stopped abruptly as his phone began to buzz again. NJ again appeared on his screen. He cursed once more and you frowned.

“Maybe you should get that, Yoongi? It might be important,”

Yoongi looked away from his phone to study your face and once he realized that you were okay, he smiled gratefully.

“Thanks baby. I’ll be right back,” he stood up and placed his napkin on the table before grabbing his phone and heading out.

“What is it...?” you heard his voice trail off into the phone as he stepped outside to take the call. You sighed and dragged your finger over the rim of your glass. You couldn’t even have it in you to be annoyed that he was bringing work into your time. After all, Yoongi worked so hard everyday and the amount of effort he put into helping his coworkers was so admirable. After a few minutes, Yoongi walked back inside, a deep frown on his face.

“All okay?” you asked as he sat down in front of you. His expression eased immediately and he nodded.

“Yeah just some idiot messing shit up at work. It’s fine,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, what were you trying to tell me, babe?”

“Right,” you cleared your throat and grinned. “So while you were in Daegu….I submitted my article!”

“No way!” Yoongi smiled. “How did it go?”

“Really well!”

“Yeah?” he asked but then he frowned. “But I thought you needed evidence,”

“Well…” you trailed off and his eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I did some more research,” you admitted and he shut his eyes.

“(Name), I thought we agreed that would be dangerous and that you wouldn’t try to get closer!” he asked, a crease between his brows.

“I know,” you said immediately. “I know. I promise that I didn’t put myself into any danger, Yoongi!”

“How do you know that?!” he fired at you and you pursed your lips. At your expression, he sighed. “What did you end up submitting as evidence?”

“Oh I….” you hesitated and then spilled only a part of the truth. “A video. Some kind of footage of a gang talking,”

“Footage?” his eyes narrowed. “What kind of footage? Where did you get it?”

“O-Online,” you said, and you immediately regretted the lie. But, it’s fine. You were only doing it to stop his worrying. It didn’t really matter where you got that footage. Besides, it was surely taken offline anyway. Right?

Yoongi sighed. “Online. Alright,”

He didn’t say anything else, instead resuming with buttering his bread. You looked down dejectedly. Why was it so hard to tell him? You just wanted to say you got a promotion. But instead the conversation had pissed him off. The rest of the dinner felt off. Though you both did talk to each other, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about your accomplishment. Even he, you could tell, was still irritated and you couldn’t help but feel like you disappointed him. After all, he was worrying about your own safety. He stood by while you were first discovering the gang but he had warned you that interfering with them could be dangerous. And he was right? Who’s to say that the gang isn’t aware of your nosiness at this very moment. Suddenly your food didn’t seem so tasty. Even the ride home had a tense air and you didn’t like it.

“I…” you started weakly and you could feel Yoongi open his eyes from behind you. You turned around in his embrace and tried to make out his facial features in the dark. “I submitted the article and everyone was super happy with it. I got a promotion. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s why I asked you to dinner today…”

It felt good telling him, even though you wanted it to happen in a better setting. Not when you had ticked him off and made him worry. Yoongi’s gaze softened considerably, or at least, you hoped it did.

“I know I still told you that I wouldn’t dig deeper,” you gulped, finding a string on his black t-shirt more interesting than his face. “B-But I really wanted to find out more. I really wanted that promotion. I thought about my parents. Maybe they would actually talk to me now that I have a better paying job. A-And I figured that it would help us too. I mean you always did say that you wanted to move out of this crappy apartment and-” you took a breath. “I’m really sorry Yoongi. I thought you’d be happier,”

Yoongi sighed. “(Name)...I’m not mad okay? I just get really worried. I mean this isn’t just a common story, right? These are gangs. They’re dangerous,”

You nodded miserably. “I know,”

“And I’m not saying this to scare you but I’m sure that they wouldn’t like people digging into their crimes and stuff. What would I do if they came after you, huh?”

Once again, you nodded mutely.

“But,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you,”

You looked up and he smiled. “You managed to put together a story that basically had no evidence to support it and proved a lot of people wrong. And you got a promotion. That’s amazing (Nickname),”

You grinned. “Thanks, Yoongs. I’m really sorry for not listening to you,”

“It’s okay,” he sighed and pulled you closer to him, his hand rubbing your back gently. “Just no more okay?”

“But I’m the only one in charge of this story,” you said. “It’s part of my promotion,”

He groaned but relented. “Fine, just promise me no more digging. You can use evidence that shows up from the police and shit. But I don’t want you trying to follow them around for pictures and an autograph, got it?”

Hearing the sarcastic irritation in his voice made you giggle and you nuzzled in his chest with a smile. “Okay okay. You’re so bossy,”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Someone’s got to keep your ass out of trouble,”

A few weeks later you woke up with a horrible back ache and an ugly wetness between your legs. Rolling onto your back slowly, you frowned with displeasure as you realized what time of the month it was. After cleaning yourself up, you trudged into the kitchen where Yoongi stood leaning against the counter. His reading glasses were perched low on his nose as he scanned the paper, a steaming cup of black coffee in his other hand. You slid your arms around him and sighed, pressing your cheek into his shoulder blade.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his eyes remaining on the paper.

“Morning,” you answered nuzzling into his warmth.

“What?” he chuckled.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

“Why so clingy this fine morning?”

You pouted and pulled away. “I love you?”

“Ah,” he hummed in thought. “Period?”

You blinked slowly. “How did you know?”

He scoffed before setting the paper down. “Stupid question. I’m stuck with you everyday. I can tell these things by now,”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped a slice of toast into the toaster. “Don’t act cool,”

“I don’t need to act for that,” he shrugged and you snorted before pouring yourself a glass of water.

“What’s the plan for today?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi responded. “It’s been a long fucking week. I’m just going to relax today,”

You grinned as he plopped down on the couch in exhaustion. Leaning down to kiss his cheek, you patted his shoulder.

“Good. I can’t remember the last time I saw you relax. Has to be...maybe a decade?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well you’re disturbing me now,” he pointed out.

You laughed and sat down next to him as he turned on some morning show. With the pain in your lower abdomen, a day of relaxation sounded like heaven.

“Hey Yoongi?” you asked a couple hours later after rummaging around in the bathroom.

“Yeah?” he called from his spot on the couch, laptop balanced on his legs.

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, standing up and dusting your hands on your pants.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Can you run out and buy me some supplies? I’m almost out,” you asked and Yoongi sighed before grinning.

“This is why you restock before it starts, (Nickname). Everyone at the store knows me as the boyfriend who’s always buying pads. All the old ladies keep giggling at me,” he laughed while standing up.

“Well I would go,” you started indignantly. “But I look like a mess and I’m too lazy to get ready. You look fabulous all the time,”

He rolled his eyes. “No need to flatter me. I’ll go get some,”

You beamed at him. “Thanks Yoongi,” you kissed his cheek gently as he moved to tug his shoes on. You plopped on the couch before lazily scrolling through the channels as you heard your boyfriend shut the door behind him. After watching some movie for a few minutes, you shivered at how cold the room was, goosebumps prickling along your skin. You thought of going to find a blanket, but then you remembered that you had Yoongi. One of his big warm sweaters would do nicely. You stood up ignoring the chill that ran up your spine and made your way into your bedroom before pulling open Yoongi’s closet. Flicking on the light switch, you tapped your chin as your eyes raked over the clothing. Finally deciding on his black pullover, you turned to go back to your movie when something caught your eye. Under a pile of dark clothes in the corner of the closet, something shiny glinted in the light. You reached down and pulled up the clothes, briefly realizing that you had never seen these clothes on Yoongi before. You grabbed the object, feeling the cool metal on your warm fingertips and pulled it up. The brass knuckles in your hand made you gasp out loud.

“What the hell?!” you whispered to the emptiness of your apartment, the cold object feeling foreign in your hand. You flipped it over to examine it. They were slightly worn out and dirty, as though they had been used for a long time. The thought made you shiver. These couldn’t be Yoongi’s. What would he need brass knuckles for? Yoongi had never fought anybody. You glanced at the pile of clothes you had found the brass knuckles with.

“Probably one of his friend’s stuff?” you muttered to yourself, though your own voice sounded unsure. “Yeah that’s gotta be it,”

You quickly dropped the metal in between the clothes and rummaged them around to make them look as you had found them. You tugged Yoongi’s sweater on and shut the closet quickly, an uneasy feeling in your gut. You didn’t want to see or think about that ever again.

You lazily scrolled through websites on your laptop, eyes searching for updates about the gang you had been hunting. The TV was quietly droning with the news in your empty apartment. Yoongi was still at work and you craved his words of comfort because honestly, you felt like you had hit a dead end. You had come back home much earlier than you had expected, and your apartment wasn’t helping your lack of inspiration either.

“-and gangsters causing problems in the neighborhood. This symbol has been officially marked as dangerous and any civilian who sees it should report it to the authorities. These gangs are getting more suspicious and dangerous as time goes on and are currently under heavy investigation. They’re suspected to be major players in the underground drug cartel and the major robberies occurring around the city. Though there haven’t been any cases of muggings reported, civilians are advised to be cautious at night and to report any illicit activity…”

“Damn, they’ve been busy,” you mumbled to yourself, tugging your laptop closer to begin taking notes on what you were hearing. Maybe that’s what the old woman you interviewed had overheard. Shipment issues related to drugs. You shook your head in disgust.

You heard the lock of the front door click and perked up. You tossed your laptop to the side and peeked over the back of the couch as Yoongi pushed his way inside wearily.

“Hey you’re home-” you paused. “What are you wearing?”

It seemed that Yoongi wasn’t expecting you home because he flinched and whipped his head up so fast you thought he might break something. His eyes were narrowed threateningly but then softened when they focused on you. But you were more focused on the black skin tight jeans and heavy black jacket he was wearing, which was certainly not his daily work attire.

“O-Oh I-,” he cleared his throat. “I had to change since some idiot at work spilled coffee all over my clothes. These are some spares I had for emergencies,”

He chuckled to himself as he shook his head, walking into the living room to bend down and kiss you.

“Oh,” you said lamely. “You changed your shoes too?”

You raised a brow at the black combat boots that he most definitely didn’t wear to work that morning. He looked at you with a slightly nervous grin and shrugged. “It matched the outfit,”

You snorted and sat down properly, now focusing on the TV and droning out Yoongi’s movements. You didn’t notice how Yoongi paused to listen to the news, a quiet curse leaving his lips before he started to the bedroom.

“I’m gonna be on some office phone calls, baby. Just don’t disturb for a little while, ‘kay?” Yoongi asked you with a sweet smile and you tore your attention from the screen.

“Okay,” you grinned and nodded at him. He flashed you another small smile and shut the door to your shared bedroom.

“So you’ll get something on your way back?” you asked as you rummaged around your purse for your bus ticket.

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighed on the other end of the receiver. “Ever since this stupid project started we’ve had so much more work to do. Sorry I can’t be home earlier to eat with you, baby,”

You smiled sweetly through the phone regardless of the fact that he couldn't see you.��

“It’s okay. You know I admire how hard-working you are,” you shook your head with a grin as you sat down. That earned you a tired chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Thanks for always being so understanding, (Name),” Yoongi said, and you laughed.

“Don’t need to thank me. Just take care of yourself and come home soon. I miss you,”

Yoongi chuckled fondly and voiced an affirmative. After a farewell and a quick “I love you” you ended the call and got comfortable in your seat before tugging on your earbuds and shutting your eyes. You would probably catch a quick nap before you reached the apartment. At least, that’s what you wanted to do.

Only a few minutes had passed when you suddenly felt a chill run up your spine. The hairs on your arms stood up and a wave of uneasiness passed over you. You peeled your eyes open to look around. The bus was mostly empty, given one or two passengers. They all seemed normal however, except for one.

He was looking straight at you when you made eye contact with him. He sat straight, dressed in all black with a heavy leather jacket making his frame look even larger. His big arms were crossed menacingly and you wished you could put a face to his description but the mask he was wearing covered everything but his eyes.

Dragon eyes.

He tore his eyes away from yours as soon as you looked and you shivered a bit. You were probably overthinking it.

That didn’t mean you wanted to spend more time having a staring contest with this man, however. You quickly shut your eyes again and pretended to fall asleep, because even though you knew he was looking at you, it felt a lot safer to not be looking straight into those eyes.

You must’ve been on that bus for hours, or at least it felt like hours. When the bus pulled up by the stop just near your apartment, you quickly stood up and hurried down the aisle, not sparing anyone a passing glance. You stepped out into the nighttime and breathed out in relief before starting the walk to your building. When you glanced back to the window of the bus, the man was pulling out his phone and placing it near his ear as the bus started rolling away. Your racing heartbeat began calming down as you reached the door to your building. You weren’t sure who that man was, but you knew he was intimidating as hell. If he was actually staring at you, and hopefully he wasn’t, you wished you would never cross paths with him again.

You sighed and brushed a few strands of hair out of your face as you climbed up the front steps and went to open the main door. You wished that Yoongi was waiting for you at home so that you could cuddle up with him, share a bowl of ramen, and tell him about your day and this man and how nervous he made you. But Yoongi had work. You could never be angry at him though. Yoongi was so hard-working and he was doing his best to pitch in and help you both lead comfortable lives. Just the thought of your sweet boyfriend made you smile as you moved to tug the door open.

Pressure on your face made your eyes widen in confusion and before you could realize anything it was already too late. The cloth being pressed against your nose and lips was doused in chloroform and though you had never even had the chance to see it, you knew. You tried to shout but the hand pressed harder, making the sounds more muffled. Your heart rate spiked once again as a big arm wrapped around your body and began dragging you down the stairs. You were crying and you didn’t even realize it. Instead you were trying your hardest to get a hit on the person behind you. You rammed your elbow back and hit a body, which released a low masculine grunt. His grip loosened a bit and you managed to take two steps before he grabbed you once again. Though now, your vision was blurring and your head was spinning and everything was going out of focus. You tried hard not to breathe in, but eventually your lungs burned and you took one more breath and everything went black.

The first thing you could smell was dampness. The smell of wet concrete and mold filled your burning nostrils before you could even open your eyes. When you had fully gained consciousness, you chose to keep your eyes closed, opting to strain your ears and listen to your surroundings. You could faintly hear the sound of clanging metal and the rush of a few cars but other than that it was silent. You peeled your eyes open and your heart dropped.

You were on an old couch, brown with stains of things you didn’t want to know. A dirty rug decorated the concrete floor and you looked around with tears pooling in your eyes at the metal walls. Was this some kind of warehouse? Cigarette butts and bottles were haphazardly strewn across the floor and you suddenly felt sick to your stomach. You had to find a way out. You stood up shakily and tried to find your bag, but of course it was nowhere to be seen, which meant that your phone and house keys were gone too.

Oh god, Yoongi would be so worried.

You wondered whether he had called the police or if he was searching for you or if he was going crazy with worry before a thought struck. How long had you been here? If it had only been a few hours and Yoongi was still working then there was a chance that he didn’t even know you were taken at all. You gulped as nausea rolled over your gut once again. You began quickly and shakily stumbling towards the only door you could see, freedom tasting bitter on your tongue.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”

Your heart leapt into your throat as you quickly turned around. Plump pink lips were stretching into a menacing smirk as narrow brown eyes shone with mischief. You knew him. You knew this man.

He was graceful and he was familiar. Faded orange hair, a toned body, it was him.

No.

You stumbled back and the man clicked his tongue. “Careful sweetness, you’ll fall,” he sighed. “And don’t try anything. I’m prepared,”

His fingers tapped his side where you could see his gun and you shakily gulped.

“You’re lucky we didn't decide to handcuff you or something,” he said nonchalantly.

“What do you want with me?” you asked, sounding much braver than you felt.

“I don’t really know. I’m just following leader’s orders. He said you were a threat and that’s why you’re here. And no, we’re not gonna kill you. As long as you don’t give us a reason to,” the man sighed as you opened your mouth.

“U-Um,” you started and the man raised a brow at your stutter. Fuck, he was intimidating. “How am I a threat?”

Please don’t be what I’m thinking.

He chuckled. “You tell me (Last Name) (Name),”

You didn't even bother asking the cliche “how do you know my name?” question. It was clear to you now. The gang knew you and they were angry with you for digging up on them. Yoongi was right. You had never felt such a horrible sense of regret and you feared you weren’t getting out of this alive.

“The research I’ve been doing?” you asked nervously. The man smiled sweetly, a contrast to his intimidating aura.

“Mhmmm~” he sang, sitting down on the couch as you stood anxiously. “But anyways, contrary to what those stupid fuckers in the news make us sound like, we aren’t demons. We don’t kill innocent people,”

You raised a brow but allowed a bit of hope to settle in your chest.

“You didn't really know what you were doing and from the research Hoseok hyung has done on you, it was only to make your company happy, right?”

You nodded slowly, briefly wondering who the hell Hoseok was. But the fact that this man was apparently understanding your situation was much more important. He wasn’t going to kill you.

“But I still think that she knows too much,” someone said, and you turned to the door to see a taller man walk in, a scowl on his face. In his hands was a bowl of plain rice and a water bottle and you eyed him from head to toe, instantly recognizing him from his piercings and bigger build. Knife boy.

“C’mon Jungkookie~” the man on the couch purred teasingly. “Don’t scare her,”

The bigger man looked to the other in shock and disgust. “Hyung don’t say our fucking names what if she-”

“She’s not going anywhere and she’s not gonna tell anyone,” he sighed. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

As a barely hidden threat, the orange-haired man tapped his gun and you nodded meekly. He suddenly smiled brightly as though he didn’t just threaten your life. Knife boy rolled his eyes and handed you the food, which you began scarfing down without a second thought. He raised a brow but didn’t say anything else.

“Jin hyung told me to bring her some food,” he muttered. “Because we’re not supposed to starve hostages,” he added sarcastically. The orange-haired male simpered.

“See?” he asked you teasingly. “We’re taking care of you,”

“Oh shut up Jimin,” another voice chuckled. “Quit acting like that. It isn’t you,”

Another man walked in, around the same height as “Jungkookie” with silver hair. His voice was deep and you recognized it from the footage. But it still sounded more familiar, like that wasn’t the only time you’d heard it. You racked your brain trying to find it, but could come up with nothing. On a completely different note, he was so extremely pretty. He had a sculpted face and unique eyes and his pink lips curved into a weak smile.

“I came to check if she was awake. Namjoon hyung wants to talk to her,” the deep voice of the man washed over you. “Jungkook, I thought you were on interrogation duty,”

“Yeah but then Jin hyung called,” Jungkook grumbled. “He told me to get her something to eat,”

“I’m sorry, can I please leave?” you interjected pleadingly, tears forming in your eyes because you were so scared and tired and you missed home. “I swear I won’t do anything more. I’ll keep my mouth shut just please let me go home. I didn't know, I’m sorry,”

The silver-haired male's eyes softened a bit but Jungkook spoke up in exhaustion.

“Look, we’d like to get you out of here and forget that you exist, too. But Namjoon hyung still has to decide what to do with you,”

Your blood ran cold. Decide what to do with you. Why did that sound like there was still a possibility that you could be killed? You hoped that this Namjoon was understanding but another part of you was convinced he wasn’t going to be. You were about to find out.

Namjoon was the man on the bus. You were absolutely sure of it. Though the man on the bus had his entire face covered, you would never forget those cold eyes. Dragon eyes.

The same eyes that were looking down at you with a steely, calculating gaze. You wanted to cry so badly but you bit your lip and forced the tears back. Yoongi would tell you to be strong.

“(Last Name) (Name). 21. Aspiring journalist. Did I get the basics?” Namjoon asked in a rough yet cold voice. You nodded slowly and he glanced down at you. “You’ve been getting yourself into places you shouldn't be Miss (Last Name),”

“I know I’m so sorry. Please don’t kill me,” the shaky words were out before you could stop them and your stomach dropped in fear.

Namjoon only sighed and asked you a question. “(Name), what do you think of us?”

“I-what?” you stuttered dumbly, feeling chills run up your spine.

“What do you think about us?” Namjoon repeated coolly and you balked.

“I….” you started. “..That you’re a dangerous gang,”

“And what makes us dangerous?”

“The fact that you’re involved in underground drug trading and burglaries and deaths-”

“How many deaths have you heard about?”

“A-A few,” you responded dumbly, eyes flitting over to Taehyung whose lips twitched upwards a bit at your glance, as though trying to comfort you. Nothing about this situation was comforting.

“And how many of those were innocent civilians, (Name)?” Namjoon asked, turning away from you.

“I-I don’t-” you struggled but Namjoon answered for you.

“None. Because we never allow innocents to get hurt in our business. The deaths you saw were all related to people involved in this life. I promise you that we don’t hurt innocent people. We may not be good but we aren’t evil,”

Jimin blinked slowly with a calm smirk and your shoulders dropped a bit. “S-So you...aren’t gonna kill me?”

“No,” Namjoon’s eyes flitted to you and you saw the fatigue behind them. “But you have to make us a promise,”

“And keep it,” another man, Hoseok, added from his spot behind Namjoon.

“You cannot get involved with us anymore. It’s very dangerous for you and your loved ones. No more digging and outing us to the news. You’re forbidden. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” you agreed easily, anything to get away from the dangers these boys were pulling you into.

“Be serious,” the handsome broad shouldered man piped up. “Otherwise things won’t end well for you,”

“I’ll send Jungkook to kill you,” Namjoon commented offhandedly. You glanced at the bulky male and gulped. You didn't like him very much and with what you’ve seen him do with a knife, you weren’t taking any chances.

“Yes sir,” you bowed quickly. “I promise,”

In the back of your mind, you wondered how they could be letting you go like this. For all they knew, you could go rat them out to the police as soon as you left. That’s when you realized that they were serious. They really didn't hurt innocent people. Even the threat of sending Jungkook after you was to scare you. They’d never act on it. They didn’t hurt innocents. That’s why they were giving you a second chance.

“Good,” Namjoon’s lips turned up and you were surprised at the dimples that appeared. When he smiled he looked much less intimidating and more like an overgrown bear. “You’ll have to be blindfolded before you step outside but once you get into the van, Taehyung will take you straight back to your apartment.

“Thank you,” you smiled weakly before pausing. “Wait-Taehyung?”

“Oh, I didn’t get to introduce myself,” the silver-haired man grinned. “Sorry we had to do all that to you. I’m Taehyung,”

Wasn’t that the name of…?

You pushed the thought aside and nodded softly. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Just because they were letting you go didn’t mean you were suddenly going to trust them. You were sure each of them had identical guns to the ones tucked in Jimin’s black jeans. In Jungkook’s case, maybe more than one.

“Take her back Taehyung. And (Name),” Namjoon called out. “Remember your promise,”

You nodded mutely and followed Taehyung out. He walked you down a corridor in relative silence. Well, what exactly do you say to a kidnapper anyways?

“Um, I know you’re probably scared and upset. I’m really sorry you had to go through that. We don’t normally do these kind of things. But we had to make sure that you weren’t a threat,”

You only nodded again and Taehyung sighed. “We were protecting the people we care about. I think you’d understand if you were in the situation,”

“I...understand,” you mumbled and Taehyung hummed a bit. As you continued down the hallway, you heard a faint grunt of pain. Then some talking and then another shout. Taehyung didn't say anything and continued walking but as you got closer to the room, the sounds became louder.

“-better tell me who the fuck it is, buddy,”

“GO TO HELL, ASSHOLE!!”

The sound of metal colliding with flesh and the howl of pain that followed made your skin crawl.

“Mm try again. Who the fuck sent you after us, huh?”

“I…I can’t tell you, man,”

Another loud blow, this time earning a scream. Your skin crawled as bile rose in your throat. The room was only a few steps away now, the door slightly open.

“I have all night, bitch. I’ll be here until you’re in so much pain you’ll be begging to die,”

There was only a whimper to be heard as you reached the door. Taehyung’s back was getting further away but you still decided to glance inside. You wish you didn’t .

You wish you didn't catch the familiar black hair and pink lips bent over another man’s bloodied body. His hair was messy and wet and his lips were pulled back into a bored snarl. His pretty hands were splattered with blood and his fingers were sporting a familiar piece of metal.

“Tell me,” he sighed condescendingly. “Who sent you?”

“Go….fuck…...yourself,” the other man wheezed. His gums appeared, but not in the smile you knew, but rather in a malicious smirk. A dark chuckle escaped his lips and you watched with tears in your eyes as he reeled his knuckled fist back before shooting it straight into the man’s head. You stumbled back with a shaky cry of disbelief, tears spilling over as you saw his face completely. Taehyung turned around in confusion but your eyes weren’t on him. Dark eyes narrowed at the body, the dark eyes that sparkled with love for you, now empty and cold and cruel. Though they didn’t see yours, you saw everything clearly, and every last bit of trust in you shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

Tag list: @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone, @sunshine-ruins

(comment or message me if you want to be added!)

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jeonjeonggukenergy · 5 years ago

Text

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink.

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing #anti-hero #anti hero

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aquidragon · 5 years ago

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Purple (Part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: Spencer sometimes considered his eidetic memory a curse, however when he spots a gorgeous woman crossing the street with a purple ribbon, he can’t help but fall heads over heels for her. However, there’s more to her than it seems... Warning(s): Mentions of blood and alludes to violence Word Count: 2.2k A/N: Here’s my first ever x reader series! Thank you to @criesinreid for beta-reading this for me! (Part One: Here) (Part Two: x) (MASTERLIST) ---

---

Spencer Reid POV

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when I saw her, with beautiful h/c hair that was tied with a purple ribbon. Maybe it was because of the color, since purple was my favorite, but I felt like I was drawn to her. I watched with a rather stupid expression as she walked past me, with a wide smile from across the street. I felt my heart flutter and my face get warm. She was gorgeous. My eidetic memory allowed me to picture her smile and her shining h/c hair as she chased after her friends. After a few days, I caught myself imagining holding her hand and taking her out on dates. Would she like attending the library with me? What kind of genres did she enjoy? I could tell that she at least could read, since she was holding a few books close to her chest as she ran. I could no longer focus the book I held in my hands, the words seemed jumbled and scrambled. Nothing made sense, except for the woman that had blessed my very mind. The few seconds that I had my eyes on her, I couldn’t get her picture out of my vision. I let out a small sigh as I closed my book, allowing my mind to drift to her again.

“Pretty boy has got a crush.” The familiar teasing voice of my colleague joked from right above me. I looked up from my slouched position on the jet’s couch, I snorted, brushing over my lower lip with my tongue. “I-I don’t have a crush.” I responded, which I knew wasn’t convincing as Morgan laughed and took a seat beside me.

“Come on, you’ve been staring out into space.” He gently patted my shoulder, his dark eyes just dancing with playfulness. “So, who is she?” The older FBI agent asked, earning a small groan from me. “I told you I don’t have a crush.” I unintentionally let my voice lift up an octave, which gave away my lie. The look on Derrik’s face made me sigh and finally give in. “I saw this girl across the street from the coffee shop I frequent before work, Morgan she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I knew it was rather dramatic, but it was true. “Well, did you get her number?” My co-worker asked, I shook my head sadly. “I didn’t get to her, she was running after some friends.” The sinking feeling in my chest began to drag down my mood. I suddenly felt like a dunce, how couldn’t I have just ran to her, asked for her name, her number, anything?

I cursed my inept ability to flirt, or talk to women in general. Looking at my friend made my brain begin to curse itself. I wasn’t as confident as Morgan, I couldn’t even cross the street to go after the girl that I was really fond of. This made me bring my hands up to my face, I dragged my palms over my eyes, I was much too tired to think too much about my hopeless attempts at relationships.

Morgan must’ve noticed my downwards spiral into hopelessness, because he patted my shoulder a few more times as the plane began to shake into the descent. “Hey don’t lose hope, she might live in DC, maybe you’ll see her again.” I looked up at him again, rubbing one of my eyes as the pressure rapidly changed. “How? Morgan I can’t just search DC for her, there’s 705,749 people that live in DC.” I challenged, hopelessness sinking deeper into my chest. I also felt frantic, I felt this paranoid need to find this woman again.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh I know you Doctor Spencer Reid, you’ll find this woman.” Before I could respond with more statistics about the likeness of me running into a random person I hadn’t even met, the plane started to rumble on the runway. The rest of my team all groaned as they were awoken from their naps on the five hour flight we had just endured in Seattle.

After the plane was landed, I begrudgingly dragged my suitcase behind me towards the BAU offices. I wasn’t looking forward to doing paperwork, usually I could whisk through them with ease, but the nagging feeling in my heart made it impossible to think. All I could think about was her, and that purple ribbon that bounced with her movements as she ran. I scuffled all my paperwork back into a file, I would fill it out tomorrow morning, after my third coffee of the day. I was just about to leave when I heard the soft voice of my closest friend.

“Leaving so soon Spence?” JJ asked tiredly, I could tell that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. “Yeah- I’m too tired to do paperwork tonight.” I responded briskly, bringing up three of my fingers to rub one of my eyes. “Wow, Spencer Reid, too tired to do paperwork?” The teasing voice of Penelope came next, her entire body was limp and exhausted. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile, gathering up the last of my stuff. “Yeah-I have plans” I responded nervously. I couldn’t tell Penelope that I had a crush on a girl I randomly laid eyes on. I’m sure I could just tell the woman that the mystery girl owned a purple ribbon and she could find my crush within a couple hours. Tops.

“Ooo plans?” Garcia asked, a little bit of excitement glittered in her eyes. I opened my mouth to tell her that it was just a trip to the library, but Morgan stepped on. “Woah now Baby Girl, we can’t have our pretty boy here giving away his secrets.” He sent a wink at me, which made me chuckle. “I gotta go guys, see you on Monday.” I walked out of the office, heading towards the silver elevator that would take me to the main floor.

Now, I normally don’t believe in dream analysis. There’s just not enough evidence to prove that our dreams are somehow linked to ourselves. However, the events in my dream felt so unbelievably real. I saw the woman again, with her gorgeous h/l hair and sparkling e/c eyes. We were in a void, which reminded me of being underwater. My hair was fanned around my head, as if I was swimming. I looked back over at the woman, her hair was also floating around her pretty face. The purple ribbon was no longer on her head, but instead it was tied around her pinky finger.

“Spencer, look!” She spoke, but her voice was echoed, and sounded like a weird mix of voices. “We’re connected.” I blinked, confused. “Connected?” I muttered to myself, before I felt a tug at my pinky finger, making me look down. Just like the woman’s, a purple ribbon was tight around my finger, and led just to her pinky.

I let a joyous laugh bubble out of my chest. “I guess we are.” I looked back at the girl, she was now closer. Her face was slightly blurry, but it also seemed so clear. She seemed sad, from the way her hands floated over my shoulders. “Please find me.” The woman with the purple ribbon whispered, her voice softening. “I need you.” Then I heard gunshots, screaming, and a woman screaming for help. I moved to protect the girl, but she was gone, I was now in a decrepit looking house. I unholstered my gun, approaching the door where I heard the noises. Blood began pouring from the crack between the door and floor. I let out a scream.

And then I woke up

--- Y/N L/N POV

Any method to get away from my psycho family was a win for me. Even if it meant hanging out with my shitty friends from high school, who did nothing but cause trouble and get high. Now I didn’t really have an issue with people getting high, I once dabbled in it when I was in my early college years. I only stopped when I started to fall behind in my classes.

So today, I decided I was going to the cute little coffee shop I passed after stopping at the library. I’ve been in a desperate need for coffee anyway. Looking into the mirror of my vanity, I cautiously applied makeup to my face. Brushing a hint of blush onto my cheeks as I smiled at myself. I loved makeup, maybe it was because my parents never let me use it growing up. They believed it was “against God's will” or yadda yadda.

It didn’t matter anymore, I lived in my own shitty apartment, so I could do whatever I wanted to myself. After finishing up the last touches to my face, I reached over to tie my ribbon. I didn’t know why, but I was always drawn to the color purple, so I bought a lot of purple-colored accessories. My ribbon was my most prized accessory though, I could tie it in my hair in whatever way I saw fit.

So, I tied it in my favorite way before admiring myself in the mirror once again. I tried to ignore the subtle scars marking certain locations on my face, but I felt like my makeup covered them well. Feeling satisfied, I switched off the lights, grabbed my phone and headed out.

“Ugh seriously?” I exclaimed as I stepped outside, only to feel the subtle drops of rain on my hair. The coffee place was only a block or so from my apartment complex, and I really didn’t feel like digging for my keys again. So, I bolted, hurrying to the cafe as the rain started to pelt down harder.

Once I reached the building, I threw open the door and got inside. Breathing heavily, I searched my purse for my wallet and made my way over to the line. The line went by fast, I ordered my coffee and went to sit down right by the window. A storm had rolled in, I sipped at my beverage as I watched people outside scramble about in hopes for shelter.

One of them being a handsome lanky man that I swore I saw somewhere. He glanced at me from outside, through the window, and his face lit up. He swiftly entered the cafe, and made a beeline over to me. He didn’t order anything, but the baristas seemed to recognize him, one of them even waved.

“I-I’m sorry is this seat taken?” The brunette asked, breathlessly, as he stood behind the seat next to me. I shook my head, scooting my chair over so he could get into the one he wanted. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, curiously, I swore I recognized him.

The handsome man seemed surprised, he took off his soaked jacket. “Uh, I saw you last Tuesday.” He mumbled, his voice squeaking a bit. I bit the corner of my mouth and observed him from head to toe. He was well-dressed, with a dark grey cardigan over what seemed to be a dress shirt and tie. He wore dress pants, but had two well-worn converse and two differently colored socks.

Suddenly it came to me, I had glanced at him as I rushed to catch up with my friends. I remembered that I really wanted to look back at him again, but had a time constraint. “Oh yeah!” I grinned, taking another sip of my caffeinated beverage. “I remember now.” The man seemed pleased at my words, fumbling with the ends of his cardigan nervously. “Oh, well, I’m Doctor Reid.” The man seemed like he wanted to shake my hand, but kept his hands as far from mine as possible. He nervously cleared his throat, looking at me in the eyes. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Spencer gave me a hopeful smile, which I returned. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you Doctor, my name is Y/n.” I didn’t bother saying my last name, I didn’t want to be associated with it.

“No please, call me Spencer.” The fawn-brown haired doctor sounded tense. “No need to use formalities with me here.” He clarified, making me laugh. “Alright, alright. Spencer it is then.” When our eyes met, I swore that Spencer looked at me with so much intensity I thought I would explode. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to say something.

Ring

“Oh sorry lemme get that.” The doctor scrambled into his pocket, pulling out an ancient flip phone and answering the call. “What? Already?” He paused, listening into the call, I began to become more intrigued by the minute. His face fell, his once bright and handsome face turned into one that resembled haunted somberness. “I understand, I’ll be there right away Hotch.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, not bothering to suppress my curiosity. “It’s my-job.” Spencer answered sluggishly, making a face as he slid on his damp jacket. “Oh?” I watched as he scrambled for a napkin and he fished a pen from his satchel.

“Call me?” The honey-eyed man asked hopefully, after sketching out his number on the paper. I nodded, taking the napkin into my hand, scanning over the haphazardly written numbers. “Of course-” I responded, but Spencer was already halfway out the door. I snorted, slipping out my phone and typing in the man’s number. Now THIS will be interesting...

---

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #multiparter #spencer reid fluff #purple #criminal minds #reader insert #implied soulmates

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heartfulofsighs · 5 years ago

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Dumb

Heyyyy so @negrowhat requested a scenario from me involving Jackson being very obvious but reader being dense so here it is.

Disclaimer this has nothing to do with Something to Do with Jackson though that story is very very similar. This was more of me trying to do something small and nice for a friend who is always always there for me!

No warnings!!!!

He was beaming at you, waiting on a response because that’s how conversations worked. He had said something (and god knows what it was) and now you had to say something. You had to ignore the buzzing of your phone in your pocket and say something back.

“....unless you’re busy that day, it isn’t a big deal.” He sounded like it was a big deal though. Men made everything a big deal. Case in point your phone. That was another man, making everything big.

“I can make it, send me the info.” You finally got out. His face relaxed and he leaned a little over the table.

“I would really love if you came.” He was adding so much emphasis but it would be rude to laugh at his earnest expression. Why did you do that? You were always finding things funny that were not funny at all.

Jackson was frowning at you. Well not at you but in the mirror that you both were looking into. You ignored him, and once again tried not to laugh at his pout.

“You didn’t pick up last night.” He stated. You adjusted the jacket on his frame then stepped back to study the entire look.

“I was busy.” You took it off, leather and black would be better. Or maybe…

“Busy with what?” His pout grew, his lips turned so far down you knew he was going to whine all day.

“I had a date, you knew that, I told you Monday.” You walked back to the rack and pulled a leather jacket, “what was so important that you texted me 50 times?”

When you turned back to him his face had changed. He scratched at his chin, “you forgot drama night.”

Drama night. You wanted to roll your eyes but you figured there was no point.

“Jackson,” you walked over, he shrugged off the first jacket and put on the second, “I don’t text you 50 times when you miss drama night.” You pointed out, “and, you’ve said a bunch of times you like when it’s all out so we can binge it.” You stepped back, much better with leather. He rolled his eyes because you had caught him. He had no defense.

“Don’t pout.” You warned, “you’ll crease your makeup.”

He gave up his frown and turned so he was facing you.

“So how was it?” He asked. You were still studying his outfit, deciding on whether you liked it or not.

“How was what?” You reached out and adjusted the white shirt under his jacket, “the date?”

He nodded.

“It was nice, Frankco is really sweet.” Which was true, he was sweet and patient. He put up with your busy schedule and treated you with such care. Jackson’s frown was back. It deepened, darkened his entire face. But you ignored him. He was like a protective older brother. He didn’t trust anyone with his close friends. But he would get over it, the last boyfriend you had he didn’t hate completely. He even double dated with you, which had been...well an effort had been made. You had to at least give him that.

“Jackson,” you stepped back again, “I know you’re incredibly protective of all your friends.” You stepped back up and patted his shoulders, “and I really really appreciate it, but I’m a big girl...I can take care of myself.”

He swallowed and for a moment it looked like his eyes dipped to your lips. Probably a figment of your imagination. He closed his eyes then opened them with an odd resolved look on his face.

“I know.” He granted.

After Jackson’s shoot you had several others to travel too. Thankfully the other jobs meant you didn’t have to deal with his constant questioning. Theoretically he would only be this way until he got use to the idea of Frankco. Once he got over his initial protectiveness everything would be smooth sailing.

You pulled a black leather skirt from a new rack of clothes and looked at the Lona, the model.

“What do you think of that one restaurant…” you held it up and tried to recall the name, “Tinkco’s? I went last night...and it was pretty good.”

She shrugged and the look on her face was very knowing, “I’m sure it’s nice, but I know you’re bringing this up because of our friend Jackson.” She laughed. You shook your head, “I was trying to recommend you the food…”

“You’re trying to Segway into him freaking out over your date. Like he freaks out for every date you have.”

It was your turn to frown. She waited for you to contradict her. When you didnt she went on, “and me and you are now going to embark on ‘why is he so protective of his friends’,” she got closer, “and guess what I’m gonna point out again?”

She took the hanger out of your hand and held it up to her waist so you could imagine it.

“I’m gonna say cause he’s in love with you and you’re dense.”

When you looked up at her her smile was sincere but irritating.

“I was just going to bring up the soup.” You bit out. She sighed, “ok love, tell me about the soup?”

“The French onion was to die for.” It sounded flat even to your own ears. Lona couldn’t help herself, she tried not to laugh then failed miserably.

“Honey, respectfully, please stick to styling. An actor you are not.” She said.

“Put the skirt on Lorna.” You had no reason to be snappy but you hated when she knew she was right and rubbed it in. You just wanted to mention Jackson’s irritation you didn’t want to delve too far into it. Sure the two of you had these talks before, here and there. She was making it sound frequent.

“I don’t want you to be mad, I’m sorry, let’s say it’s because he’s protective then, we don’t have to say that it’s because he’s jealous.” She smoothed her hands over the skirt, “I love this by the way.”

She swayed her hips a little, “can we do one of this cool harnesses on the top?”

You let her turn the conversation. Why not? There was no point in rehashing what you had discussed before. Your phone buzzed. When you pulled it out of your pocket there was a slew of messages already.

“Is it our protective friend?” Lorna asked. You closed your eyes then counted to ten, you didn’t want to snap again.

“It is,” You scanned your phone’s screen. He was proposing moving drama night to tonight.

“What is he blowing you up about now?” She stepped closer trying to see your screen.

“Drama night again,” you sighed but there was a part of you that was excited. This meant that he wasn’t going to fight with you anymore. You guys were going back to best friend stuff in such a short amount of time.

“Wow, looking at him being mature…” She turned back to the mirror and looked the skirt over again, “with your last boyfriend he sulked for weeks.”

It had it been that long? It wouldn’t do you any good to think too hard about it. You went back to the rack and found the harness she wanted to wear. You allowed the “excited for dramanight” part of yourself grow bigger. Sitting on the couch munching snacks and yelling at the tv sounded like the perfect night.

Jackson had the biggest comfiest couch. His marble coffee table was piled with all your favorite snacks. The hot cheetos, the sour patch kids, red vines, skittles (but the tropical kind that comes in the purple bag) along with all the healthy snacks he liked. You stretched out on your usual half of the couch and sighed. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, he was probably brushing his teeth or messing with his hair.

“Jackson!!” Your voice echoed and you winced. “Hurry up!! I’m gonna fall asleep!!”

Coming!” His voice echoed back. You settled deeper in his couch and really stretched your legs. The drama you were on was light hearted. The female lead was just trying to make it through her first year of college without the same mishaps and fears that plagued her the last year of highschool. She was adorable and positive. The last few episodes had aired weeks ago but both of you hadn’t had time.

“Ok all set.” He came padding in with a shirt in his hands. You couldn’t help looking at his abs, basically on display. Such a show off. He plopped down on his side of the couch with a satisfied grunt.

“Thanks for the snack spread.” You turned and faced him, “you got all the good stuff.”

“No problem,” he leaned forward and grabbed his vegetable chips, “I know what you like, it wasn’t hard to find.”

He picked up the remote and started the show. There was something about the look on his face, his forehead was wrinkled in concentration. You didn’t ask he would tell you eventually what the problem was. You had to pay attention to the subtitles anyway. The heroine was finally feeling comfortable in her classes, she was getting along with her roommate, it all seemed so perfect. If only real life was as cute. If only-

“Hey can I ask you something?”

You peeled your eyes from the screen and turned to him. “Can you pause it first?” You asked. He did, when he put the remote down he rubbed his face hard.

“Ok what’s wrong?” You asked, “you’ve been in a pissy mood around me what did I do?” You pushed. He actually chuckled before he raised his head.

“A pissy mood.” He echoed. You shrugged and munched more hot Cheetos.

“Is it Frankco?” You said between bites, “you don’t like him even though you’ve never met him.” You pointed out. “I bet if you came out with us-“

“I don’t like him because I’m jealous.” He said each word very carefully.

“What?!” You put your chip bag down heart hammering.

“Jackson, you have nothing to be jealous of. You make way more money.”

He looked at you completely stunned. His eyes were wide and the silence stretched incredibly long. You thought maybe he would just drop it but he kept blinking at you like some sort of goldfish.

“You are so dumb.” He finally got out.

“What?!”

“You can’t be this dumb...it’s impossible.” He added. You sat up on his couch a deep frown forming on your face. You were in fact not dumb and you didn’t appreciate him calling you such. Dumb? He was being dumb, jealous of someone he didn’t even know and for what?

“I’m. Not. Dumb.” You spoke each word clearly trying your best not to clench your teeth harder. “I don’t get what the issue is?!” Raising your voice was very out of character but at this point you both seemed to be missing each other’s points.

“I’m jealous,” he stood up, “because,” he walked in front of you and bent down so he was face to face with you, “because I’m in love with you dummy and I’m not sure how to make it more clear then this.” He leaned forward and pecked you.

It was your turn to blink at him like a fish. You touched your lips, “in love with me?” The deep confusion made him laugh.

“Yeah dummy, in love with you.”

And just like that everything was changed.

#Jackson wang #look a request #jackson wang fanfic #sfw #Dumb #thanks friend I really enjoyed writing this

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dumbchickwrites · 5 years ago

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office affairs -- part 4

Pairings: CEO!Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam is the CEO of the Red Wing PR agency where Reader has been working for the past two years. Problem is, they both think one hates the other. However, when their friends set them up on a blind date, they’ll realise it was all a big misunderstanding.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: language, Reader is still thirsty, fluff, Mimi wants to gossip.

A/N: This series is part of @marvelmaree‘s birthday challenge. You can find the masterlist on my blog and hers! Enjoy!

Brunch with your friends and your sister is always a good time. You can’t complain. You have drinks, food and some of the people you love the most. And on this particular Sunday, you still feel the euphoria of your date with Sam.

All weekend you tried to let it go already, telling yourself that you were acting like a middle school girl. But at the same time, who cares, right? Once again, you reminded yourself to let yourself be for a moment, without your self-consciousness stopping you from simply feeling.

“Is she daydreaming again?”

“I bet she’s thinking about Sam.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“No one, baby. Eat your food.”

Someone snaps their fingers in front of your face. You blink a couple of times before frowning at the owner of said hand. Maria doesn’t flinch under your glare.

“Where did you go?” Noelle asked.

You take a sip of your mimosa before you answer.

“Back at L’Orage.”

“Annnnd…?” Natasha pushes.

“We—” you begin, but your gaze meets Michelle’s.

She’s looking at you like she also wants all the tea. Your eyes lower to her empty plate, hers follow your gaze. You know what she’s thinking, and she knows what you’re thinking.

“Mimi, you’re done eating right? Why don’t you go watch some TV inside?” you say before her little hand reaches the basket of pastries on the table.

“But—”

“Auntie Henny is right,” Noelle cuts her and you roll your eyes at the nickname. “We don’t want you to get sick, right?” she says, rubbing her belly.

“Okay, Mommy. Can I get more juice from the fridge, please?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you!”

Just like that, she’s back inside the house.

“I thought the use of that nickname was forbidden in this house,” you say.

“We’re in the backyard,” your sister gives you an innocent smile.

You throw your napkin at her but she easily catches it.

“Anyways. We kissed.”

“Huh,” Natasha crosses her arms over her chest and lays back on her chair. “But?”

“What?”

“There’s a but. There’s always a but with you,” Maria says.

“There’s no but. We kissed, that’s it. It was a very nice kiss. Then he took me home—Back here!” you add quickly when you see how big Maria and Natasha’s eyes got. “He said he’s down for a second date.”

“So how do you feel about him?” Maria asks.

“Do you want me to tell you you were right? Because that’s not gonna happen.”

Maria gives you a look. You sigh.

“It turns out he doesn’t hate me at all. He was actually kind of shocked when I talked to him about that. He thought I didn’t like him,” you take another sip of your drink. “I like him a lot. He’s nice, funny, he listens to me when I talk.”

“Annnnnd…?” this time it comes from Noelle.

“And I kinda want him to bend me over a desk some time.”

The four of you burst out laughing like madwomen.

“More seriously, I guess I should thank you guys. I had a really nice time.”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetie,” Natasha rubs your arm. “Personally, I think you guys are a match made in heaven. Literally.”

“Don’t jinx it, Nat!” Maria exclaims.

Natasha makes a zipping motion over her lips with a little smirk.

As Noelle refills your champagne flutes and you move on to another topic – here Noelle and Laetitia, the mother of the new kid in Mimi’s class --, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment.

You were lucky to find people you can rely on other than your sister after so many years. After everything that happened. Sure your sister is your best friend and vice versa, but sometimes you can’t help but feel guilty about all the stuff you dump on her.

It’s not easy for you to interact with people and maintain healthy relationship. You try your best to find a nice balance between over communicating and totally isolating yourself. You’re still a work in progress though.

That’s why all this dating business was pushed aside for a few years.

Maria and Natasha end up spending the rest of the day at your house. You order takeout, drink some more – responsibly though, all while binge-watching Disney movies and playing board games with Michelle. It’s the nicest day you’ve had in a hot minute.

When the girls leave and it’s finally time for bed, you go to sleep with the ghost of today’s smiles still dancing on your lips.

In your opinion, Mondays are overrated. You never understood this whole thing anyway. Sure it’s the beginning of a new week, but it’s still a day like the others.

This particular Monday though, is a bit special. You’re excited to see whether or not Sam had the flowers delivered in your office. So excited that you’re walking around with a huge grin, your face beaming as you step into the elevator.

“Well good morning m’lady,” Scott from HR greets you when you step off the elevator. He’s at the front desk, talking to Rumlow.

“Morning Scott,” you say, still smiling.

“You got a secret admirer, huh?” Scott asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Your office is filled with flowers. And I mean filled. Janet walked by ten minutes ago and she hasn’t stopped sneezing since. Y’know, allergies.”

“Oh, um… I—” you stutter, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m just messing with you, kiddo. Just—If it’s a dude from around here, just make sure you stop by my office some time, ‘kay?”

Okay… You need to end this conversation now. You can feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Honestly, it’s not that you don’t like Scott, everybody likes Scott. It’s just that he can be a bit too much sometimes.

“Sure thing, Scottie. You have a good day, okay?”

You don’t wait for his answer before you keep walking towards your office, climbing the stairs leading to the first floor with ease.

A woman you don’t recognize is standing in front of your office, staring at the glass wall. The cleaning crew must have left the blinds open again despite your multiple notes.

“Hello,” you greet her before you reach your office. “Can I help you?”

You can’t see the inside yet but Scott was right, the scent is strong. Just how many flowers did Sam send?

Her gaze meets yours as she whips her head towards you, her long burgundy hair following the movement. She’s wearing a green suit, a bold but beautiful contrast with her skin tone.

“Hi!” she smiles. “I’m sorry, is this your office?”

“Yes. You’re new here, right?”

“Yes, yes. My name is Gamora, I’m the new Digital Manager,” she offers her hand for you to shake.

You introduce yourself as you shake her hand. “… I take care of—”

“Events, yes. It’s written on your door. Anyways, I was just looking at the flowers in your office. Must be nice. My boyfriend… He’s not really that kind of guy.”

“Um…”

Once again, you don’t know how to talk to people.

“Sorry if I’m being weird.”

“Oh, no, it’s… Don’t worry about it. So where are you from?” you ask.

You figure you should at least try to make small talk with her. She seems nice, she has a very kind face. There’s something about her eyes though… She’s clearly been through a lot.

“I’m from New Asgard, in Norway.”

“Wow, how did you end up here?”

“My boyfriend, Peter. He lives in the US and he asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t say no.”

The name makes you flinch, but you wipe the discomfort away as soon as it appears. Peter is a common name. In this city alone there are hundreds of them. You need to get used to it, it’s been years already.

“Well, on behalf of the entire Red Wing team, I’d like to say welcome,” you give her a genuine smile.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot.” With a sigh, she throws one last glance towards your office before she starts walking away. “I better find Scott, we’re not done with the tour yet. I’ll see you around, I guess?”

“Sure. Have a good day!”

Once she turns around the corner, you take the last few steps that lead you to your office.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

Your office is filled with flowers all right. It’s not just fifty like Sam said. At least a dozen of bouquets of red roses, tulips and peonies are scattered around your office. On your coffee table, the empty spaces on your bookshelf, the floor… everywhere but on your desk. Thank God, the scent isn’t disturbing to you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper again.

You can’t believe your eyes. You set your bag on your desk and draw the blinds over the glass walls to keep the prying eyes out of your business. Walking around a bit, you take the time to inhale and admire every single bouquet.

“Wow, he really wasn’t joking.”

You turn around to find Natasha and Maria standing in your doorway, holding huge mugs.

That’s right the morning coffee. Morning coffee is always in your office on Monday and Wednesday.

“Aw sweetie, don’t cry!” Natasha grabs a tissues from the box on your coffee table and hands it to you.

You didn’t even realize you were crying. Damn, he really had you in the palm of his hand, huh?

“It’s just, no one has ever done something like this for me before, and I feel stupid now because I’m crying for fucking flowers.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid, okay?” Maria chips in. “From what you told us, you’re not used to this kind of treatment, so it’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed right now. Here,” she hands you one of the mugs she’s holding. “Mantis told us you just got in so we figured you didn’t have time to make your cup of tea yet.”

“Thank you.”

You take a sip of the beverage, the hot liquid helping with the lump in your throat.

“Is… Is he here?” you ask.

Their offices are located on the floor above yours along with Sam’s, so you rarely see him during the day.

“Not yet,” Natasha replies. “He’s late. Something about getting Falcon a new cone.”

Oh yeah. He mentioned his dog’s surgery Friday night.

“Good morning, ladies. You talking about me?”

There he is.

Sam is standing in the doorway, a smirk on his lips, always handsome. A warm feeling spreads in your chest at the sight of him, and this morning’s grin is back in an instant.

“Samuel,” Maria greets him. “You’re late.”

“Ah shit. The boss wouldn’t like that, would he?”

“Whatever,” Maria rolls her eyes at him.

“Maria, come to the kitchen with me, I want to see if the pastries have been delivered already,” Natasha says, grabbing Maria’s arm.

“But shouldn’t we go with—” her sentence is cut short by Natasha’s pointed look. “Ohhh. Right.”

The girls shut the door behind them as they exit your office, you and Sam left alone.

“Morning,” he says, slowly approaching you. “Do you like the flowers?”

“I do, very much. What happened to the fifty flowers, though?”

Sam shrugs. “They were supposed to represent the number of times I wanted to kiss you. But as the weekend went by, I lost count, so…”

Goddammit.

“Come here,” you mumble.

You grab his hand and pull him closer to you, your free hand finding its place at the back of his neck. The kiss you give him is slow and sweet as you do your best to express your gratitude. You’ve been on one date, yet he has managed to make you feel more special than you’ve ever felt. He really is something. Sam kisses you back, and you can feel him smile as he does.

“Thank you,” you say when you break the kiss. “This is… wow.”

Sam keeps your body close to his, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“You’re welcome. So… about that second date. How do you feel about roller skating?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I kind of like it. I haven’t skated since I was a kid, though.”

Sam nods. “Dinner and roller skating. Let’s say… Wednesday?”

“Wednesday sounds good,” you smile.

“Okay.”

Sam peppers small kisses on your lips and the corner of your mouth before letting you go. You instantly feel colder.

As he walks to the door, you seat at your desk and power up your computer, ready to start the work day.

“Wait, I need one more,” Sam says.

He rounds your desk and spins your chair so you’ll face him, before giving you another kiss. Once again, he peppers small kisses on your lips and cheeks and this time, you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s not even noon yet and I’m having the best day I’ve had in a while,” he whispers.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me blush,” you joke.

“Now that would be my greatest achievement.”

Sam leaves shortly after that, leaving you to start working with the same dumb smile from earlier on your lips.

***

Tags: @marvelmaree @ljstraightnochaser @blackmissfrizzle @youdonotghostnickfury @minillamakeup-blog

#maree's29thbirthdaybash #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black reader

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pitubea1910 · 5 years ago

Text

Something Just Like This

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: -

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: I had this little thing on my mind that I wanted to share with you guys, I hope you like it! It is based on the Coldplay song Something just like this, which I can’t get out of my head lately :) Feedback is appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Growing up in Manhattan wasn’t as exciting as Gossip Girl pictured it to be. There were no parties every day, no gossip, no drama. At least not for you. Your parents had been quite strict since you were little, which meant that they hadn’t given you the freedom most of your friends had. It wasn’t like you wanted to do drugs or have sex at the age of 16, but you couldn’t help but feeling a bit left out every Monday morning at high school when all your friends talked about was last Saturday party.

That was probably the main reason why you moved out as soon as you could. And that was when you turned 18 and your parents allowed you to go to college in England. That first taste of freedom was much better than what you had expected. You could do anything you wanted, whenever you wanted and with whoever you wanted. Needless to say that you took full advantage of it.

You loved that life without your parents so much that, when you finally went back to New York, at the age 25, you told your parents you didn’t want to live with them anymore. Of course, they were enraged, but once you found a job that allowed you to pay for your own rent, they couldn’t find any other way to keep you at home. Eventually, they even contributed with your rent so you could afford a place that was ‘right for a classy woman like you are’, like your mum said.

At first, you even fought against it but who were you going to lie? You weren’t a fan of your neighbourhood in Queens. Neither you wanted to go back to Manhattan, but you found a lovely apartment in Brooklyn, with views to the Bridge, big windows and an open plan living room and kitchen. The moment you saw it, you fell in love with it and you didn’t want to visit any other apartment. By the end of the week, you were moving all your stuff into your new place.

Only if you knew how much your life was going to change thanks to that apartment.

You had been living in your Brooklyn apartment for two years when you met him. He happened to live in the building next to yours and your windows were in front of each other. The first time you saw him, putting boxes down in the room as he talked to a read-headed woman, you immediately recognised him: Steve Rogers, aka Captain America.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you ran into him when you were coming home from the grocery store on a Sunday morning and he was coming back from a run. You weren’t even paying attention to the crosswalk, too busy trying to get your keys out of your pocket without dropping the bag of groceries.

“Do you need a hand with that?”

You looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking at you with humour in them. You had got so used to see him from your window or on TV that it felt weird to have him standing in front of you. And it all was better because he was wearing one of those grey t-shirts you had seen him wearing so many times. The ones that looked too small for him, but he still could pull off effortlessly.

“Actually I do”, you finally said with a smile.

Without another word, he took the brown bag from your hand so you finally could take the keys from your pocket.

“Finally”, you said showing him the keys. “They were hooked on a loose thread”, you explained.

“I figured that much”, he nodded. “You live here, don’t you?” He asked pointing at the door of your building. You gave him a surprise look. “I’ve seen your through the window.”

“Okay…”, you chuckled, kind of glad that you weren’t the only one creepily looking through the window trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“And that was creepier than I expected”, he said with an awkward smile.

“Don’t worry”, you laughed. “I’ve seen you too”, you shrugged.

“I guess we’re a pair of creeps then”, he said making you laugh again. “Does the creep have a name?”

Smooth, you thought to yourself with a small smile.

“(Y/N) Holston”, you said and took some hair out of your face.

“Steve Rogers”, he said, although you already knew. “Do you need some help with this?” He asked lifting the bag he was still carrying.

“Oh, no”, you quickly said. “Don’t bother, I can take it.”

“It’s no bother”, he shrugged. “I can take it up for you.”

“I’m sure you have some avenging thing to do”, you said. He laughed out loud and nodded.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “No avenging today. The world looks pretty safe.”

You bite your lip, wondering whether to accept his help or not. He looked really nice and not creepy at all. And you had seen him so many times in his own bedroom that he felt almost familiar, so why not?

“Okay”, you finally said. “I can take the bag, though.”

“Then I wouldn’t have any excuse to keep on talking to you”, he said, walking with you to the door of your building.

“I didn’t know you were looking for an excuse”, you said, taking the right key and opening the door.

“I’ve been looking for one since I first saw you in your room, so don’t take it away from me”, he said with more confident than he actually felt.

The statement made your cheeks blush. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just let him walk in first and followed behind. Although you were glad that you weren’t the only one wanting to talk to your neighbour and not knowing how. At least he had found a good excuse to do it and you were glad he had.

“Wow…” he said when he walked into the apartment after you made your way upstairs silently. “Fancier than it looks on the outside.”

“It was renovated a few years ago”, you told him and took the bag from his arms after closing the door. “Actually I was one of the first tenants here.”

“How long have you been here?” He asked, walking towards the big windows from where you could see the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Two years now”, you told him, taking the items out of the bag. “I was living in Queens for a time but I didn’t feel… like home, I guess.”

“I know a kid from Queens who’s actually pretty nice”, he said, now walking to the aisle that separated the living room from the kitchen.

“Yeah, people are nice”, you nodded. “But not my neighbours”, you chuckled. “Also, I’m closer to my job here.”

“What’s your job?” He asked.

“I’m a content writer and social media manager for a small magazine”, you said, now putting what you had bought in their right places.

“Sounds…busy”, he chuckled.

“It’s not that big of a deal”, you said with a smile. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Do you have beer?” He asked.

“I’m not a beer kind of girl”, you chuckled. “But I have white wine?”

“That will do”, he nodded.

You took a couple of glasses and put them on the aisle in front of Steve. Then, you took the bottle of wine from the fridge and took the cork off before pouring some into both glass.

“Fancy”, he said when you put the bottle back into the fridge.

“It’s a really cheap wine”, you laughed, leaning against the counter. “But I love it.”

“Tastes good”, he nodded. “Although I barely drink wine, except on elegant dinners and that kind of stuff.”

“Do you go to a lot of those?” You asked teasingly. He laughed.

“Sometimes we have to”, he admitted. “And some other times Tony forces me to go”, he shrugged, making you smile.

“You look good in a suit, though”, you shrugged. He raised both eyebrows while looking at you, making you blush.

Actually, the main reason you knew how he looked like in a suit was because your mum was always sending you articles about all the galas she went to and, of course, Steve Rogers had gone to many of them. You would be lying if you admitted that you didn’t look at his photos closely, but who could blame you? He did look good in a suit.

“I don’t live under a rock”, you shrugged. “I read the newspaper from time to time.”

“I see”, he nodded with a small smile. You took the glass to your lips so you didn’t have to say anything else. “Anyway, I was thinking”, he suddenly said after finishing his glass. “You seem to know how to behave in fancy environments, don’t you?”

“What makes you think that?” You asked with a laugh.

“First, this apartment”, he said making a gesture that covered the place. “I bet you work really hard but I think that a content writer slash social media manager salary can’t afford this, which means that you’re family is… in good places, am I right?”

“You’re not wrong”, you said, surprised at how observant he was.

You didn’t feel entirely comfortable saying that your dad had insisted on buying the apartment a year after you moved in. It made you feel like one of those Manhattan spoiled rich kids, which you weren’t. Not at all. All you actually had to pay were the bills and your salary was more than enough for it.

“Also, who drinks wine at noon instead of beer?”

“A lot of people!” You exclaimed making him laugh.

“Honestly, I just saw you getting out of a black Audi with a driver last week”, he finally said.

Last week had been your mum’s birthday, so you had spent a whole day with them. At the end of it, you were ready to wait for an Uber, but your mum had your family driver -Albert- drive you home.

“Okay, fine”, you finally said, knowing there was no point on denying anything. “I was born in Manhattan. Rich family and all. I left to study in England and when I came back I didn’t want to keep on living with my parents, so I found a place in Queens.”

“But you didn’t like it”, he said, remembering what you had previously said.

“Exactly”, you nodded. “I found this apartment, which rent was way cheaper than what you probably think”, you said making him chuckle. “And I moved here. Anyway, my father has never liked me paying for anything so he bought the whole apartment a year after I moved”, you shrugged.

“Wow”, he said surprised.

“I know”, you sighed. “I’m not proud of it but at least I pay the bills and groceries and everything I can afford. So, to answer your question, I basically grew up in fancy environments. My mum used to drag me along to every single gala or whatever thing she had going on.”

“I think it’s great, to be honest”, he shrugged. “It doesn’t look like your father gave you too many options when he bought this place, so I think it’s admirable that you still work to pay the bills.”

“I hate owing him anything, so it’s the least I can do to have as much freedom as possible”, you explained. “Anyway, why did you ask?”

“You’ll probably say no and I completely understand”, he said. “But… Tony is holding another charity event at the MoMa this weekend and I have to be there, but I don’t want to go alone, you know?”

“The Stark Foundation MoMa Gala?” You asked, your boss had been going crazy trying to find someone to get into the gala to write an article about it.

“That’s the one”, he nodded. “Would you come with me?”

“Actually… my boss would love me if I could get in it”, you said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage or something”, you quickly said.

“Don’t worry”, he smiled. “It didn’t even cross my mind. So… would you?”

“Of course”, you nodded with a smile. “I’d love to be your date.”

“Is it a date?” He said, his smile bigger.

“I guess it is”, you shrugged, blushing once again.

That weekend you went together to the MoMa gala and it wasn’t the last time you had a date. You ended up getting together most nights of the week, either at his apartment or at yours, although mostly it was at yours. You would watch movies, cook together, play board games, any time off you both had was spent together.

So it was just a matter of time before something else happened and it did just a month later. You had been at Steve’s apartment since you came back from work and it was when you were saying goodbye at his door, that he finally took his chance and kissed you. It was a short and tender kiss, but it was enough to open the door for many more.

In two months you were officially dating and in three months he finally took you the Stark Tower to meet everyone. You couldn’t remember being more nervous than you were that day. Walking out of the elevator to find Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson just playing poker was something you never thought you would see, but they welcomed you into the family with open arms and soon you were playing poker with them.

Six months after meeting him, you thought you couldn’t be happier and neither did Steve. He was hanging in his apartment, picking up the clothes he would use for his date with you that night. You had called him that morning to tell him that you had managed to get tickets to go to the movies that night so it was only a matter of time before you arrived from your work to head to the cinema.

“You look like a little girl before her first date”, Bucky, who was with Steve in his apartment, said as he watched his best friend trying to decide which shirt would be better for that night.

“Leave me alone”, Steve said with a smile. He finally decided he would use the navy one, knowing how much you loved that colour on him.

“You really like her, right?” He asked. Steve smiled and nodded.

“I do”, Steve said. “I’ve never felt this happy, Buck. She… she completes me”, he tried to explain.

“I’m happy for you”, Bucky nodded. “But be careful.”

“Why?” Steve asked confused.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all”, Bucky shrugged.

“(Y/N) would never hurt me.”

Bucky sighed and looked down at his shoes. That was Steve’s problem. Ever since the 40s he always thought that everyone was just good. It didn’t matter everything they had gone through, what he had gone through, he still through there was good in everyone.

“You’re the Captain America, Steve”, Bucky said.

“So?”

“What if she just likes the strips?”

“She’s not like that”, Steve shook his head, although he had to admit that it had never crossed his mind.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asked.

“I thought you liked her”, Steve frowned, crossing his arms.

“I do, but I want you to be careful”, Bucky repeated. “Anyway, I have to go. Sam needs some help winning a bet”

Steve walked Bucky to the door, his head still spinning from what Bucky had said. You didn’t care about him being Captain America… you liked him because of Steve Rogers, not the superhero. But what if you did? What if he wasn’t the Cap anymore? Would you still like him?

He wasn’t the insecure type, but he had never liked anyone the he liked you, and he suddenly worried about you not liking him the way he liked you. Maybe the last six months hadn’t meant the same for both of you and the idea of that being true broke his heart.

Just then, he heard his phone buzzing on top of the table. It was probably you telling him you had already gone out of the subway and were five minutes away. He took the phone and, indeed, he found your name on the screen. You were a few minutes away and he didn’t feel like going anywhere. With a heavy heart, he looked for your number and called you.

“Hey there!” You said happily on the other side. “I’m just a block away. I’m thinking about buying some snacks before going to the cinema?”

“I’m sorry but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight”, he said all of sudden. There was a small silence in the line.

“Oh…” you finally said. “What happened?”

“Tony called for an urgent meeting at the Tower”, he quickly said, coming up with that lie way faster than he expected.

“Okay”, you sighed. “Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow?”

“I have to go to D.C”, he said. “I think we are going to be there a couple of days.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot”, you said.

You spoke to him so many times throughout the day that it was easy to say when there was something off. And there was something really wrong at the moment. You only wished you could know what it was, but it looked like he wasn’t willing to share what was on his mind. At least for now.

“Then give me a call when you come back?” You asked, after a few minutes of silent, when you were already getting to your building.

“Sure”, he said. “I gotta go.”

Before you had the chance to say anything, he hung up. You frowned looking at the screen and then looked up at his building, where you knew his living room was, but there was no sign of anyone. Quickly, you made your way up to your apartment and headed towards your room to look at his apartment but, for the first time, you found the curtains completely closed, keeping you from seeing anything inside.

What was going on?

The next few days you barely heard from Steve. He sent you a quick text when he landed in D.C., but you didn’t know anything else until he arrived at his apartment. And it wasn’t like he had texted you or anything, you just saw the lights in his room. You checked your phone in case you didn’t have service, but it was working perfectly. However, you decided to wait, maybe he was just unpacking and taking a shower.

A couple of hours later he hadn’t said anything yet and you didn’t know if you should text him or just keep on waiting. It was impossible that he thought that you wouldn’t see the lights when you had spent the last six months checking for those lights in order to talk to each other. It had become a habit for both of you. Still, you decided that waiting was the best option. Maybe something was going on at the Tower and he was dealing with it.

But when you texted him next morning and he didn’t text back and you still saw him getting into one of Tony’s Audis from your window, you just knew that something was really wrong. The main problem was that there was no way to find out what it was. You hadn’t said anything to him to make him get mad at you, right?

There was only one way to find out. You had to go to his apartment and face him. But he didn’t come back. It only meant that you would have to go the Stark Tower. Even if that meant that you had to talk to him in front of the whole team you didn’t care, you had the right to know why your boyfriend was ignoring you.

After taking a shower and getting ready, you took your bag with your wallet, keys and phone and let your apartment when the Uber app told you that your ride was waiting. Luckily, the traffic wasn’t as horrible as usual and you made your way to the Tower in less than thirty minutes.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous about facing Steve, but you were more worried about what was going on and wanted to fix it. Whatever it took. You had gone to the Tower so many times that the security guards that were by the private elevator that went straight to the Avengers HQ let you in without any inconvenience. Definitely, being Steve’s girlfriend had its perks.

When you walked out of the elevator, you were surprised to see no one. Usually, there was always someone watching TV or reading a book or just hanging in the living room, but nothing. Still, you made your way into the place and waited until you heard some muffled voices coming from the kitchen. As you got closer, you recognised Steve’s and Bucky’s voices. You were going to just irrupt in there, but you stopped when you heard your name.

“You can’t hide from (Y/N) forever, Steve”, Bucky was saying.

“I’m not hiding”, Steve said.

“This is the first night you’ve spent here since you met her, are you going to say that’s a coincidence?” Bucky asked but there was no answer. “Look, sorry I said what I said. I was just worried about you.”

“But what if you were right?” Steve finally asked. You frowned as you listened closely. “What if Steve Rogers isn’t enough? What if who she really likes is Captain America?”

“That’s bullshit”, Nat’s voice suddenly spoke up. You didn’t even know she was in there. “She’s completely infatuated with you, Steve. I don’t think she even cares about the stripes and the shield.”

“How do you know that?” Steve sighed.

“Well, I don’t, but I have eyes and what I see is a girl in love with you. With Steve Rogers”, she said. “Has she ever talked about you as Captain America?”

“No…”, Steve said after a few moments. “Not really. All she has said was that she loves the navy suit.”

“Even I do”, Natasha said, making you almost laugh, but you didn’t. “If you’re so full of doubts, just talk to her, but stop hiding like a little boy.”

Before any of them walked out of the kitchen and saw you there, ears dropping, you made your way back to the elevator silently. So that was the problem. Steve thought he wasn’t enough. How could he even think that? And how could you prove that it was bullshit, just like Nat had said?

When you walked out of the Tower and headed to the subway to go back home, you texted Steve, telling him to go to your place that night. You two had to talk.

It wasn’t until he texted you back that you breathed again. You were a bit scared at the thought of him saying no, but he said he would be there at 9 p.m. You spent the rest of the afternoon on your computer, finishing some work-related stuff you hadn’t been able to finish at the office and you had to turn in as soon as possible. Before you realised it, it was eight o’clock and you hadn’t even showered nor made dinner.

Since you weren’t going to have time to make some proper dinner, you just decided to order some Chinese food from Steve’s favourite restaurant. If he was comfortable enough, he would be more willing to speak to you. Or so you hoped.

As always, Steve was punctual and at 9 p.m. sharp there was a knock on your door. The Chinese food had arrived a few minutes earlier so it was still hot, meaning he was just in time. When you opened the door, a smile appeared on your face. It had been only a few days since you had last seen him, but you just realised how much you had actually missed him.

Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his chest with a content sigh as he hugged you back. As nervous as you were, his presence was as comforting as always.

Steve had missed you like crazy. It didn’t matter how worried he was, how insecure he was feeling. The moment he felt you close, he felt complete again, like he was home. The scent of your hair, your warmth, your smile. You were everything to him and the thoughts that had been haunting him for the last days were a completely nightmare.

“I missed you”, you said.

“I missed you too”, he sighed.

“I ordered Chinese”, you said, finally letting him walk in.

“Ching Pao?” He asked, taking off his jacket.

“Always”, you nodded. “And extra rolls”, you added.

“You’re the best”, he said with a soft smile.

You spent a few minutes setting up at the table with dishes and glasses before you sat down at the table, in front of each other.

“How was D.C.?” You asked.

“Boring”, he said. “Meeting after meeting and a gala”, he added.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have your fancy reunion expert with you”, you said.

“I wish I had her”, he smiled at you, but you noticed that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. You sighed and looked down at your plate for a moment, you couldn’t wait anymore.

“What’s wrong, Steve?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He asked, avoiding your eyes.

“Are we really going to do this thing when you pretend not to know what I’m talking about?” You asked. Steve sighed and put down his chopsticks.

“Do you like me being Captain America?” He asked. You narrowed your eyes and shrugged.

“I like that you are, I’m very proud of you, but it’s not what I like the most”, you replied.

“Then what is? What could you possible like about me besides who I am?” He asked.

“Are you saying that you’re not good enough if you’re not Captain America?” You asked. He didn’t reply, but when he looked away, you sighed. “Steve, I don’t care about it. If tomorrow you said you wanted to hang the suit and drop the shield, my feelings for you wouldn’t change.”

“How do you know?” He asked.

“Because, Steve, I’m not looking for a superhero. All I want is someone who’s there for me, someone I can kiss, someone I can turn to when I need him”, you said. “I’m looking for something…something just like this”, you shrugged. “And Captain America doesn’t give me that. Steve Rogers does”, you added.

Steve was looking down at his food the whole time. You had no idea how good your words were been to him, how much they meant. Just with them, you were fixing that crack that had appeared in his chest a few days ago.

“I fell for Steve Rogers, my neighbour, my best friend”, you smiled a little, reaching out to take his hand. “And I am incredibly proud of you for being Captain America, I really am. But you’ve been Captain America for a long time before we met and I didn’t fell in love with you until I met you.”

He finally looked up at you and couldn’t help but smile when he met your eyes. You had said “in love”, you were in love with him and he couldn’t express how much that meant for him. Finally, he got up from his chair and walked around the table to kneel next to you.

“I love you too”, he smiled, taking your hands in his. “And I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about”, you said, turning your body so you were facing him. “But next time you’re feeling worried about my feelings for you… why don’t you just tell me so we can avoid all this?”

“Noted”, he nodded.

With a smile, he placed a hand on your cheek and pulled you closer to him, sealing the deal with a kiss that had you both grinning into it like idiots.

“By the way”, you said. “I love you.”

“I know”, he smiled widely before kissing you again, deeper this time, making you both forget about the now cold Chinese food for the rest of the night.

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randomrosewrites · 5 years ago

Text

H. A. W. K. S.

“There’s a certain kind of pain that follows denying your pleasures in life.”

A brief abstract piece on Hawks as a character.

Words: 2179

Rating: Mature

Read it on ao3

// Possible manga spoilers. No events in the manga are mentioned outright, but some things and aspects of Hawk’s past are alluded to.

Warnings: Blood + killing mention.

Enjoy.

H. A. W. K. S.

Act 1: Heights.

It’s raining tonight.

He’s always liked the rain. Maybe it made sense, with his quirk and all, but something about water streaming from the heavens soothed him.

He’s crouched on an arm of a crane, at the top right where the hook hangs 50 meters below him. His wings are hunched up, rain cascading down them like they’re made of glass, his coat and hair are lightly misted with a thin layer of water. Cupped between his gloved hands is a room-temperature can of instant coffee. He takes sips from it whenever he remembers to.

It’s a quiet night on patrol. The city has, graciously, decided it was going to be quiet for the night. He gazes out over the world, city lights flaring against the plastic of his visor. He pushes it up onto his hair. Rubs his eyes. Blinks. Drinks some coffee.

Nights like these were what he - in theory - enjoyed. Quiet. Serene. No one around to disturb or ask him anything. Perched at the top of the world, weightless and free.

But every time those graveyard shifts rolled around, without fail, an extreme sense of disappointment settled in.

He knows he should be happy. He should be savoring the precious moments of peace whenever he could, as they were such a rarity. But he couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness, a hole where he was expecting joy to fill it. Instead of feeling free, he just felt tethered to the ground, an invisible chain wrapped around his ankle.

He stares up in the air, being met with pitch blackness. He can’t tell the difference between cloud and sky.

Being alone meant there was...nothing. Nothing to do. No one to talk to. Nothing he had to be. He didn’t have to be anything - no one but himself.

Himself… who even is that person, if they even exist? The line between his hero persona and who he truly is blurs with every passing day that now he thinks - fears - there’s no difference. It’s just one blur, like the clouds in the night sky.

After the curtains shut (if they ever shut at all…) and he takes his final bow as Hawks, who is he?

He gazes out over the city, burying the multitude of thoughts he doesn’t have answers for far away from his mind.

Act 2: Apathy.

He never wanted to be in the top ten. But as most things in his life, fate had a different plan for him.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so popular. Ok, well, that’s a lie, he does partly. But he doesn’t understand what makes him good enough for the top of the pyramid. He’s not like All-might or Endeavor, who became famous for their pure strength. His wings are powerful, sure, but not that powerful.

If he had to take a guess, he’d bet the appearance of his feathered appendages were a big contributor to his fame. That and a mix between his speech and his looks (don’t even ASK him what his fans see in him, he has no idea. ) But in the end, the why isn’t important, but how he handles that fame.

He smiles politely at the people crowded around him. Sign this for him. Nod at that person. Take a photo with her. Thank this person. Laugh at this one’s joke. Let the kids tug on his wings. It’s all standard stuff he’s been trained to know how to do. Simple.

The hardest part is figuring out what people want. How much effort to invest in the conversations, how much he has to smile to make them satisfied, but not enough for them to get too confident. People and their emotions are easy things to figure out. It’s a formula. A pattern. Once you know what they like, it’s just a matter of providing that euphoria again and again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a person who wriggles through the crowd, coming close to him. They appear nervous, maybe hopeful, wringing their hands out in front of them.

“Excuse me?” They ask.

Hawks finishes up signing something for a kid and turns to them.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I…” As they pause, Hawk’s eyes trail lower. A red feathered charm hangs from a metal chain around their neck, resembling the feathers on his back.

He recognizes it. It’s one of his merch products from the latest jewelry line that came out. He showed it off in a recent photo shoot he did. The necklaces have been very popular, from what he’s heard.

The fan clears their throat and finds their voice. “I just wanted to say thank you for all that you do. I love you so much and I think you’re amazing.”

A confession? He feels like laughing. Wow. It’s not the first time he’s had one of those, and it certainly won’t be the last.

He smiles good-naturedly at them. “Thanks! I’m grateful for all the support my fans give me.”

They flush, just happy to be able to talk to him. He wishes he could feel bad. Or feel anything for all these people fawning over him.

But he doesn’t. He feels nothing.

You don’t love me, he thinks, you love the idea of me.

Act 3: Wings.

“What a great quirk you have! I bet you’ll be able to become a super-strong hero with it!”

“You’re so lucky to have a powerful quirk!”

“I’m so jealous of you!”

“Wow...look at them!”

...things like that were what people told him all the time as a kid. How lucky he was, how blessed he was, blah blah blah.

He’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment. He’s shooed most of the feathers out of his wings, leaving just little whisps on his back. It’s still a bit uncomfortable and feels a tad annoying when they press against the sheets of his bed, but he doesn’t mind. Sometimes that ache is good.

The rest of his feathers flit about the room. Some stick to the walls or ceilings, others hover around, suspended in midair. A few zoom around, disturbing the others, but most just kinda lay around.

Mighty wings. That’s the name they gave his quirk. A more accurate term would be mighty feathers, but it’s not like he cares about the technicalities.

He rubs a dead one between his fingers. The barbs are frayed and the edges are bunched together.

It was always his quirk that got him attention. It was always the wings that people noticed and remembered - not the man who controlled them. Without them, would anyone even recognize him? Or was he just a pretty face that went along with them?

He glares at the feather in hand, crushing it carelessly between his fingers. The crack of the stem as it breaks echoes through the room.

So yes, what a great quirk he was born with! It was so good, they decided his life for him.

Act 4: Kill.

His wings always felt heavier when wet. Sadly, he found out it didn’t need to always be because of water. Blood also weighed them down.

It was his first time in a mock battle. Back when he was...7...8? Something like that.

Well, anyway, he’d been up against an opponent that was a lot stronger than he was in terms of physical strength. It wasn’t an important fight, it was just a casual sparing match. But they’d both fought like their lives were at stake. At the time, his feathers weren’t as strong or large as they are now, so he didn’t have much to work with.

During some point in the fight, though, he remembers getting a nice cut on his opponent. Right along the arm on the meaty part of the tricep. The feather jerked through the skin, cutting a jagged, wobbly line into the muscle.

When he felt it, he shivered.

Afterwards, he cleaned himself up in the bathroom, washing away his own blood from the cuts and scrapes he gained. When it came time to do his feathers, he’d thrown away the bloodied one, taking an hour to carefully preen and scrub the rest of his dirtied feathers.

Back then, it felt easy to get the blood off of him.

Now, things are much different.

How long do you have to wash your hands before the blood goes away entirely? He ponders to himself one night. Does it really ever go away? Or does some of it stay behind permanently in microscopic percentages?

He stands over his sink, shoulders hunched, head hanging. The faucet is on, sending a gush of water down the sink. Wasteful, he chastises himself.

Blood trickles from his nose in slow, steady drops, twirling down the drain. He’d gotten careless, a bit too sloppy, and the consequence had been him landing face-first into the ground. It wasn’t broken, thankfully, it just hurt like hell.

He stares at his hands, gripping the edges of the sink. They’re spotless - not a drop of blood or a spec of dirt on them. He’d worn gloves after all. It made cleanup easier.

The wings on his back twitch. They’re red. Even though he can tell when there’s blood on them (it’s always just a bit darker) who knows for certain if they’re entirely clean? Maybe the blood just stains them, slowly changing the colour of them, layer by layer.

He stands there for a minute, before pumping a few squirts of soap into his hands, and viciously scrubbing them together.

No guilt. Just the need to be clean. Though he knows that it’s pointless to think he’ll ever be it.

Act 5: Sorrow.

There’s a certain kind of pain that follows denying your pleasures in life. It’s not a sharp pain but a slow scrape, like someone is tearing your heart apart tissue by tissue, leaving behind nothing but a cold pit. It creeps up on you, seeping into your body, sucking the life out of you.

Most people hated Mondays. They're the first day of the business week, always the hardest to come back from after celebrating the weekend. For Hawks, it’s always the opposite. Fridays are the hardest for him.

All around him, he sees people living their lives. Excited students going for karaoke, exhausted business owners going for a relaxing night in, clusters of friend groups going out to eat at a restaurant.

Everyone is having fun, they’re existing, relishing in the pleasures of life.

But for Hawks, those weren’t things he could take part in. He’s always busy, tied up with one thing or another that the higher ups needed to be done. An endless, to-do-list that only lengthens the faster he tries to go.

Sometimes he wants to scream. Or cry. Or slam his fists into the ground. Rip his throat raw until he can't speak. He felt the need to do something to ground himself, something to treasure himself that he was alive. Because half of the time, he feels like he’s not really living.

Every day is the same. Different day, sure, and different tasks, but the same routine. Like a loop. He gets up, works, goes to bed exhausted, wakes up exhausted, and repeat.

Over and over and over.

And what is the point of it all? He’s only...what, twenty-two? And yet, he feels like he’s lived enough for a lifetime and not long enough simultaneously.

He wants to go out and see the world. He wants to curl back up in bed and sleep for a solid three months. How can two oxymorons both be true?

He tears his gaze away from the window and the people walking in the streets of Tokyo, shutting the blinds and taking a seat at his desk.

Even on his darkest days, even when he feels like he can’t handle being himself for another second, he always calms down. Without fail, he always picks himself back up, piece by broken piece, and looks forward to the future.

It’s the only thing he can do.

H. A. W. K. S.

He’s barreling forward in life, flying faster than his wings can take him.

One of these days, he’s going to trip and fall. Maybe he’ll slip further than he can catch his mistakes, or maybe he’ll reach his nonexistent limit and throw in the towel, but inevitably, one of these days he’s going to come down.

“Hawks.” A woman in a plain black suit and dark sunglasses says to him. “The meeting is starting now. Are you fully prepared?”

When that does happen, there’s no doubt it’ll be painful and ugly and hurt like all hell. He’ll fall through the sky, crashing and burning, hurtling towards the ground where he’ll collapse in a trembling, pathetic mess.

But until that point, he’ll keep flying on. Because it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

He smiles, ready to compromise himself over and over again.

“Yup.”

Hawks. A man who’s too fast for his own good.

#hawks #bnha #keigo takami #its not exactly the most cannon hawks imo but ehh #hes hard to write for #writing #my writing #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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