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timotey · 8 months

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Ficlet: (Not Just) For His Benefit

The Sign. Phaya/Tharn. Future fic, h/c. Unbeta'd.

That day, you see, Tharn almost died on the job, right in front of Phaya’s eyes.

(Yet another excuse for smut. What can I say, I'm a simple gal. Please, excuse all possible mistakes, my allergies are draining me of energy.)

***

Phaya insists on taking Tharn home. To his house. To his bed.

And Tharn says, gently and soothingly, “Okay. Alright, Phaya, whatever you want.” He gives in, he goes because he’s afraid that Phaya might fall apart otherwise.

That day, you see, Tharn almost died on the job, right in front of Phaya’s eyes, and it rattled Phaya to his core.

They were chasing after a suspect, running down a busy walkway, and Tharn was close at the man’s heels, Phaya having split to cut the guy off, when the man suddenly and unexpectedly whipped around - and pushed Tharn right into the oncoming traffic.

Phaya, who in that very moment appeared at the mouth of a nearby alley, saw it all. And could do nothing but watch.

Tharn reacted quickly and managed to jump back but he wasn’t fast enough to clear the way fully. A car clipped him, throwing him up in the air and over the hood. Tharn hit the pavement hard but luckily his training took over and he bounced and rolled, absorbing the impact, his leather jacket saving him from bad scrapes. Still, it hurt!

There was a scream, loud and horrified - it was Phaya, Tharn realized later on - and the next two or three cars missed Tharn’s head by mere inches. And when he finally rolled to a halt, he just laid there, gasping through the pain. Because he ached all over and his ears were full of white noise.

When he was finally able to breathe in properly and open his eyes, Tharn saw Phaya kneeling by his side and leaning over him, looking pale and absolutely distraught. His hands were fluttering just above Tharn’s body, needing to touch but afraid to hurt Tharn even more.

“--arn? Tharn?” Phaya was yelling and slowly, his words seeped through the thumping hush in Tharn’s ears.

“‘M okay,” Tharn groaned, straining to sit up. He would've rather remained lying, at least for a little while, but that was not an option, not on the road and not with Phaya looking at him like that. “Help me up?” he asked, reaching out for Phaya.

Gently, as if Tharn was made of glass in danger of cracking, Phaya helped him stand, taking most of his weight when Tharn wobbled a little because his head did spin. And hurt. Something was in his left eye and when Tharn blinked and rubbed at it, his fingers came off bloody. Oh. He reached up to find where–

“Don’t,” Phaya grabbed his wandering hand. “Don’t touch it. You hit your head. Got a big scrape there.” His voice was hoarse and breaking a little at the end. And then he led Tharn away from the road and back onto the walkway where he helped him step over their culprit whom he, apparently, knocked out with a single punch. Well.

Most of what happened afterwards was rather blurry in Tharn’s mind. He got off lucky, with no broken bones, but his head thumped and he felt a little sick to his stomach - which he did not tell Phaya or he would’ve freaked out even more - and his left cheek and the left side of his forehead, actually the whole left half of his body, burned and ached.

And so he left others deal with… stuff, Phaya and Yai, who arrived shortly after. But mostly Yai because Phaya refused to leave Tharn's side after sitting him down on a nearby bench. Which was fine with Tharn because he really needed to lean against someone, against Phaya, when it finally sank in what just almost happened.

A trip to the hospital was a must and Tharn simply let himself be pushed and pulled and prodded and scanned and tested because any kind of a protest or objection would require way too much energy.

So. That happened.

Now he’s standing at Phaya’s car in the hospital parking lot - someone must’ve brought it here because he clearly remembers Phaya riding in the ambulance with him (and, really, was that necessary?) - and there’s a stark white patch on his forehead and another one high on his left cheek and Phaya has Tharn’s painkillers in his pocket and he’s insisting on taking Tharn home, to his house, to his bed and no arguments, Tharn!

And Tharn says, “Okay. Alright, Phaya, whatever you want.” He’s patting Phaya’s chest while he’s saying this, a soft tap-tap-tap right over his heart that he can feel galloping a mile a minute even several hours after the incident. He’s looking up at Phaya, into his eyes that are a little too wide and a little too wild and still slightly panicky.

Tharn realizes that he needs to do something or Phaya will crack. Phaya is the strongest and bravest person Tharn’s ever known but when it comes to Tharn, he's surprisingly, shockingly fragile.

So when they arrive home and Phaya helps Tharn out of his clothes - which is a slow and painful process in itself that has Tharn grinding his teeth and Phaya hissing in distress as more and more bruises all over Tharn’s body are revealed, dark red splotches that are already turning purple, hints of might-have-been had Tharn been a little less lucky that day - and Tharn is left standing there in nothing but his boxer shorts, he looks up at Phaya and asks softly, “Make love to me?”

Phaya's eyes widen and he draws in a sharp breath. “What? No! You’re injured.”

Tharn reaches up and strokes Phaya’s cheek, loving the way Phaya takes his hand in his and leans into the touch. “I’m alive,” he says gently.

He needs Phaya to know that, to truly grasp that. That Tharn is here, that he’s alive, that he didn’t die on him, that he isn’t going anywhere, that he isn’t leaving him. And words are not enough to convey all that. He needs Phaya to feel it, to feel him. It’s not about being horny or simply wanting to get off, it’s about reassuring Phaya that he’s still here.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Phaya croaks out, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against Tharn’s palm, fighting with himself but weakening. Because he needs this and Tharn knows it. He knows Phaya.

Tharn smiles. “You won’t.”

And Phaya gives in because he wants to. He wants to so bad.

He makes love to Tharn, as gently as he ever did, laying Tharn down on the bed, tenderly making him comfortable on his right side, the one least hurt, least bruised and aching, and he kisses him all over, every tiny scrape and every contusion, lavishly showering him with care, his lovemaking heartrendingly close to a worship.

Tharn’s loving it, being loved like this, with so much affection, and even though he initially planned this for Phaya's benefit, giving himself over to him like this, Phaya’s care and attention and pure love are now making Tharn feel… so much. He wants. Tharn just-he just… wants.

He wants so much - everything! - and so badly that he has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning out aloud - Phaya loves it, he knows, when Tharn loses himself in his need and lets Phaya hear his pleasure but Tharn’s still shy about it, about letting himself be heard, be known like that, even after all this time. And so he shuts his eyes tight and bites his lip and fists his hand into the bed sheet as heat courses through him, making him hard.

Phaya bends Tharn’s left leg a little and moves it forward, giving himself access, and then he takes his time preparing Tharn, sweetly torturing him, drawing out every stroke, every push, letting his fingers dance lightly over Tharn’s spot, again and again - until Tharn finally breaks and a soft moan escapes his lips.

It’s what Phaya has been waiting for.

When Phaya enters him, it always feels like their first time, like something new and wonderful, no matter how many times they do this. Tharn will never, ever get used to the feeling of being filled and possessed, of entrusting himself to his lover. Phaya moves in and in and in, slowly, carefully, giving Tharn time to adjust, and Tharn pulls at Phaya’s left arm, and draping it around himself, he entwines their fingers and presses their hands against his own heart, letting Phaya feel its frantic rhythm, sharing this moment with him as best as he can.

Phaya nips at his shoulder and his neck, peppering him with butterfly kisses, and he whispers into Tharn’s ear, “I love you so much.”

Their lovemaking is languid and slow, they barely move, just feeling and letting themselves be felt. The peak is not the goal here, the act itself is, the renewal of the connection between them. It’s hot and sweet and almost overwhelming, slow kisses and slow thrusts and slow strokes, the build-up of their climax gradual and unhurried.

When they reach their release, they arrive at it together, Phaya makes sure of it, stroking Tharn and tipping him over a moment before coming himself. It’s a quiet thing, almost reverent, and for a long, long while they just lie there, in each other’s arms, Tharn still feeling Phaya inside, their left hands entwined once more, Phaya caressing Tharn’s throat with his right, running his thumb across Tharn's jaw, and breathing raggedly into his hair.

“I thought I lost you there for a second today,” Phaya finally says when their hearts settle down again, Phaya's own beating slow and calm for the first time since the incident, since he was forced to watch Tharn get hurt, helpless to do anything about it.

And Tharn replies, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls Phaya’s right hand up and plants a soft kiss in his palm.

“Alright,” Phaya sighs, and drawing Tharn even close, he kisses his head and his ear and every part of him that he can reach. “Alright. I will hold you to that.”

Smiling sleepily, Tharn whispers, “Do.”

#the sign #the sign the series #my fics #my the sign fics #mé

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xnorthstar3x · 9 months

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𝟐 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔

𝟏

As much as I hated to admit it, I felt the tiniest bit better after the session. It was as if I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders but the tiniest speck of sand was lifted from my load. I still needed to run a few errands before it got too late. After finishing with the lady at the front desk I made my way to the glass doors. A chill attacked the warmth that settled on my skin waging a war for dominance, ultimately winning.

'Take a moment to enjoy the good in the world. It would do you good to observe any light you might find.'

That's what Mrs. Thompson had said to me. I decided to take her advice and stood at the front door observing my surroundings. Salt trucks had already been here the night before shoving all the piled-up snow into soiled brown banks. People walked down the street greeting each other like old friends. Snow fell from the sky, dusting the ugly ground in a blanket. It was almost like a mother comforting her child after a nightmare. Speaking of children, Kash was out of food and probably expected me to return home with a heap of it. For such a loving dog he was pretty demanding. Luckily on the way home there happened to be an old grocery store nearby, the owner had known my family for years.

"Hey, Jerry," I said, walking in and waving to the old man at the front counter. He was in his early 70s and was the definition of sunshine. He'd often start his stories with some flashbacks from Vietnam.

"Well hello, little (Y/N). I guess you aren't very little anymore though." He chuckled. He turned around and pulled a pack of Marlboros off the rack.

"I don't think you should be smoking these things. But I don't think I should be telling you that it just ain't my place."

"Thank you, I need to get some more stuff." He nodded and picked up the newspaper he was reading. I grabbed a basket and made my way around the store. When I arrived at the produce in the small store the bell above the door jingled.

"Welcome, are you guys just passing through?"

Out of curiosity, I glanced at the entrance to see two people, a girl who looked to be my age with fiery red hair and a yellow shirt. She stood next to a boy with black hair, who seemed just shy of 6 feet.

"Oh yeah, we're just visiting a family home. We needed a break from the city, we even brought some friends." She smiled gesturing to the parking lot.

"Shame you didn't bring them inside." He stuck a wrinkly hand out to the two of them. "I'm Jerry, Jerry Smith. Nice to meet y'all.."

"My name is April O'Neil and this is Casey Jones." April offered her hand and Casey followed suit. I turned and found refuge in the dog food aisle ignoring the rest of their conversation in favor of choosing between the beef or pork flavor. In all honesty they probably both tasted the same. I closed my eyes and threw whatever my hand landed on in the cart and made my way to the front to pay.

"till next time Jerry." He smiled in response.

When I opened the old glass door I was met with the cold winter air as it slapped me in the face. I was shocked to see a vibrant "hippie van" next to my truck. I threw the bags in the passenger side and stood on the drivers side lighting up a Marlboro. I remembered April mentioned friends when someone inside the van shuffled and began talking.

"What a babe." The statement was followed by a loud slap and a whimper as someone inside the van made a comment about 'respectin women'. I made a face and rolled my eyes, I looked like I just got done shoveling shit (which I practically did) but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. With one final drag of my cigarette I threw it to the pavement and stomped it out as April and Casey came outside with their arms full of groceries. April dumped what she had into Casey's arms and made her way over to me smiling brightly.

"I'm April." She gestured to the struggling male. "That's Casey."

"I heard," I offered simply. I stuck out a hand for her to shake. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, Jerry told me we are neighbors for the time being." She pulled her coat closer to her body as Casey finally got the groceries in the van. A few quiet jests could be her as he gave someone named Donnie the finger before slamming the door.

"Don't worry I won't show up at your door unannounced." I pulled out another cigarette and lit it. I offered it to April who politely declined, I took a long drag from it.

"Well, if it's alright with you," she fished around in her back pocket pulling out a cellphone. "I'd like to get your number."

"I don't have a cell phone." Her face twitched in shock but she masked it quickly with a smile. "I have a house phone though."

After giving her my number I waved bye and hopped into my truck, I pulled out of the driveway and made my way back home. I pulled into the driveway 45 minutes later after a few more stops, Kash was in the window wagging his tail excitedly. He began to bounce when I pulled the bag of food from the cabin of the truck. The snow had let up just a bit, enough though where the tracks of another vehicle were visible in the driveway. A bag was hanging on my doorknob with a note attached to it.

Hey, Dad says to give you this box to take to your new neighbors. The O'Neil girl. He insisted I give it to you, said she left it there in a rush to get outside and meet you.

That's what I figured was going to happen. I chuckled. Jerry always said I needed to socialize more. I took my groceries inside and gave Kash some food before grabbing the bag for that April girl and her weird friends.

Main masterlist

#northstarscorner #x reader #tmnt #tmnt x reader #donnie tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leo #tmnt 2007 #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt #rottmnt

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novamariestark · 11 months

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Echoes, Fragments & Puzzle Pieces [B.B] [1/?]

Summary: You are a young woman, trying to live your life after captivity. You live in the shadows after escaping from an organisation known as The Syndicate, desperate to copy Hydra's work. You were to be their Winter Soldier but with added "bonuses". But, when opportunity knocks, will you answer it?

Warnings: none (I don't think), maybe indication of abuse. (Instead of Y/N I've put Lia, simply just to make it flow a bit better, but of course you can replace it with your name.)

Word count: 3256 (This one is longer than I intended so it'll be a mini-series)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: eventual Bucky x reader

Part 2, Part 3,

The city's museum was usually a chill place to kill an afternoon—lots of old stuff, quiet corners, and enough space that nobody paid you much mind. You liked it that way. You were just another face in the crowd, easy to miss, easier to forget.

Wandering through an exhibit on ancient Greece, you stopped in front of a vase that showed a bunch of tiny warriors doing their battle thing. There was something about it that felt... loud. Like it was yelling at you through a megaphone, begging to be noticed.

Without thinking, you reached out and touched it. Bad idea.

Suddenly, the air fizzled like someone had cranked up the voltage, and the room got all twisty. The vase’s scene went high-def, the warriors popping out and doing their fighting dance right there in the middle of the museum. People around you gasped, their phones out, probably thinking this was some kind of flash mob deal.

But then, as quick as it started, the show stopped. The warriors went back to being boring old paint on pottery. Everyone was buzzing, looking around, trying to figure out what had just happened and who’d flipped the switch.

That's when your weird gift—or curse—kicked in and suddenly, you were about as noticeable as a piece of gum stuck under a park bench. You slipped through the crowd, who were too busy arguing about what they’d seen to remember the girl who’d started it all.

You were out in the cold air before the guards even made it to the empty spot where you had been standing a second ago. Your heart was doing the samba in your chest, and your head was full of questions with no answers. What the hell did I just do? I can’t believe it happened again.

After ducking out of the museum, your quick steps turned into a jog, then a full-blown sprint the moment your feet hit the pavement. The city was a living beast around you, and you melted into it, just another face in the late afternoon rush.

You didn’t stop until you reached your current hideout—a tiny, forgotten storage room above an old laundromat. The place smelt like fabric softener and rotten wood, but it was perfect.

You fumbled with the keys, your fingers still trembling. Inside, the room was just as you left it: small, cluttered with thrift store finds, and walls covered with a collage of drawings and photos—none of which were yours. You had hoped they’d trigger something, anything, about who you were. Who you used to be. So far, no luck.

You slumped onto the bed and let out a breath you didn't realize you’d been holding. The room was quiet, but your mind was loud.

Just as you were about to chalk up the day's craziness to yet another episode you’d rather forget, a knock came at the door. Three sharp taps, like the punchline to a joke you weren’t in on.

You froze. Nobody knocked in this place, mostly because nobody knew you were here. Slowly, you crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

On the other side stood a guy in a sharp suit with a face that screamed government agent or maybe vacuum cleaner salesman. Next to him, a woman with red hair and a look that said she could dropkick you without breaking a sweat. Definitely not salespeople.

You opened the door a crack, enough to be heard, not enough to be grabbed. "Can I help you?"

The man smiled, and it was a practiced thing, like he’d done it in front of a mirror. "Lia?" he asked, his voice smooth like a radio host's. "We need to talk."

The woman chimed in, her voice just as calm but carrying a weight that made you listen. "It's about what happened at the museum today. And it's about you."

Everything in you told you to slam the door, to run and never stop running. But something else, something tired of running and hiding, wanted to stay. Maybe they had answers. Maybe they could tell you who you really were.

So, you opened the door wider, stepped back, and let them walk in.

You moved towards the window; your body tensed for flight if it turned out these people were here to hurt you. As the quiet of your room settled back in around you, you studied your unexpected guests. Agent Coulson was giving you a kind of half-smile that seemed meant to reassure you, while Natasha looked like someone who didn't do much without a reason.

Natasha took a step forward, her eyes not just seeing you, but reading you, "We've been tracking incidents like the one at the museum for a while now," she said. "Unexplained phenomena. Memories made real. They've happened in cities across the globe—Paris, Cairo, Bangkok,”

Your heart skipped. You’d never thought much about how you ended up in those places. You just... went where you felt you needed to be, slipping onto planes and boats, always just out of sight, never questioned. No tickets, no passport, no problem. It was as if the world itself had forgotten you needed those things.

Coulson chimed in, "Your... talent, it's quite extraordinary. And it's brought you to our attention for a reason. We think you can be more than just a ghost moving through the crowds."

The words hit you harder than expected. A ghost—that's exactly what you’d felt like. A nobody. A nothing. Just someone on the run. Someone who didn’t have a home or a family at least not one you could remember. But these people—these Avengers? They were offering you a chance to be something more. What should you do?

Go or stay?

"We can help you," Natasha said, and it wasn't a question. "Help you control it, use it. You've been surviving, but you could be living. With us."

You looked between them, the offer hanging heavy in the air. You had spent so long hiding in plain sight, a part of you was screaming to keep it that way. Safe. Invisible. But another part—a part you’d buried deep long ago—wanted to step into the light, to be seen, to be somebody. To be loved.

Finally, you nodded. "I want... I want to understand," you said, the words a whisper but clear. "I want to remember."

Coulson’s smile turned genuine this time, and Natasha’s posture relaxed just a fraction. "Good," Natasha replied. "Because we start tomorrow. We'll teach you, train you. And maybe along the way, we'll find out where you've really come from."

Coulson reached out his hand, a card tucked between his fingers and you immediately recoiled. Natasha took the card from his hand and placed it on the table.

“It has the address on it,” she told you, keeping her distance from you, “Time too. Don’t be late,” she added walking out, Coulson following behind. He shot you a small, apologetic smile as he left.

***

After a night of tossing and turning, the dawn finally broke free and it was time to head out. Was this the start of your new life? Should you get your hopes up? Probably not. If you don’t, at least you won’t be disappointed.

After navigating the busy sidewalks and dodging psychotic cab drivers, you found yourself gazing up at the Avengers Tower, its glass facade reflecting the bustling city life below. It was massive, stretching up into the clouds like Jack’s beanstalk.

Taking a shaky breath, you stepped through the sliding doors. Your sneakers scuffed the gleaming floor of the Avengers Tower as you entered, your eyes darting up to the dizzying heights of the lobby's ceiling. The place was like a slice of the future, dropped right in the middle of New York City, all shiny metal and cool blue light.

You stood there for a second, feeling small and insignificant in the buzz of the place. People were everywhere, striding by, talking into earpieces, and tapping on tablets. Your heart thumped a nervous rhythm, but you squared your shoulders and took a step forward. No more hiding.

A man with a badge and a tie approached you with a business-like smile. "Lia?" His voice was smooth, practiced. He gestured toward the elevators with a sweep of his hand. "Right this way."

You rode up in silence, focusing on the numbers on the elevator panel climbing trying to distract yourself from the proximity of the stranger and the fact there was no escape. You felt the weight of the building above you, full of heroes and stories and now, maybe, a place for you too.

No. don’t get your hopes up. You told yourself.

The training floor was like stepping onto another planet. You hadn’t seen this much technology in an electronic store. It was all open space and moving parts, with areas marked out for fighting, climbing, and things you couldn't even hazard a guess at. High above, screens showed maps and data flickering past too fast for you to read.

Soon your gaze fell on Natasha, looking every inch the hero, you had seen on TV, but realer, somehow. "Glad you could make it," she said, and there was a thread of something like pride in her voice. You just nodded, forcing a small polite smile, “We’re gonna do some hand-to-hand combat, see what you can do. You okay with that?”

Not really, you thought, the last time you fought was for survival. Kill or be killed. You’d rather not have taken another life, but he left you no choice. But at least he deserved to die. There were others that didn’t. Others that died at your hand.

“Okay,” she murmured, the word barely making it out before being swallowed by the expanse of the room. It was a lie wrapped in a whisper.

Natasha nodded, sensing the tremor in your voice, the shadow of understanding passed over her eyes. "We'll take it slow," she assured, though you both knew that in combat, there's no such thing.

As you squared off, you could feel the ghosts of your past rising up, specters waiting to see if you’d fall back into your old patterns. But this was a new day, a new place, with rules you were still trying to understand. Here, you weren’t a weapon, but a lost soul seeking redemption—one carefully controlled move at a time.

Your practice session was in full swing when the heavy thud of boots drew your attention to the entrance, where you found the Avengers.

A tall blonde man led the pack, his presence commanding yet genial. He approached you with an easy stride, a congenial smile playing on his lips. "Hi, Lia. I'm Steve Rogers," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

The gesture, meant to be friendly, was a trigger. Your instincts, honed by too many betrayals and battles, kicked in. Your muscles tensed, your stance shifted, ready to move, to defend. You didn't see Captain America, the symbol of trust and bravery; you saw a potential threat, another combatant in the long line you had faced.

You recoiled sharply, stepping back and away from the offered hand. Steve's hand hung in the air. His smile faltered into a look of concern, and he slowly lowered his arm, taking a step back to respect your space. The reaction reminded him of what Bucky was like when he first arrived. The room filled with a tense silence, each Avenger processing the scene, recalibrating their approach.

"I... I'm sorry," You stammered, the words escaping you in a rush, "I didn't mean—"

Steve shook his head gently, cutting you off. "No need to apologize," he reassured you.

The other Avengers exchanged glances, their initial assessments of you now tinged with a new understanding. They saw not just a potential ally with valuable skills, but a person still grappling with the shadows of their past, still fighting a war within yourself that hadn't yet ended.

With the tension still hanging in the air like a thick fog. They didn't advance any further, but they continued their introductions, each mindful of your space.

Tony Stark, with his hands safely tucked away, gave a little wave from a distance. "Tony," he said simply, opting for a nod instead of his usual flamboyant welcome.

Bruce Banner offered a warm, empathetic smile, his hands clasped in front of him. "Bruce here. I know a thing or two about keeping a lid on it," he said with a gentle chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

Clint Barton remained where he was, leaning against the wall with a friendly grin. "Clint."

Thor’s voice, always filled with a regal boom, softened slightly out of respect for you, "Thor of Asgard," he introduced himself with a small bow of his head rather than his usual enthusiastic handshake.

Bucky Barnes watched you with an understanding that came from shared experiences. He simply nodded, his introduction a quiet murmur. "Bucky."

As the Avengers took their places along the edge of the training area, Natasha turned back to you, her expression both understanding and focused. "Ready to keep going?" she asked, her tone suggesting you could stop at any moment if you felt uncomfortable.

You nodded, your breath steadying as you found your footing again. The session resumed with Natasha guiding you through a series of defensive moves, demonstrating and then watching as you mimicked them. Your movements were precise, almost too perfect, each one carried out with a fluidity that spoke of muscle memory ingrained from countless battles.

After the session, they gathered to discuss privately, leaving you to reflect on your performance and your past. Each member had an opinion about you, Steve voiced his impression first, noting your skill and potential. Natasha spoke of your control and focus. Tony, ever the skeptic, remained quiet, observing and calculating. Bruce empathized with your struggle for control, and Clint expressed his belief in your abilities. Thor saw a warrior's spirit, and Bucky, he saw a reflection of his own path to redemption.Top of Form

"I know what it's like to be on the outside, to not know if you can control what you've become. She needs this. We might be the only ones who can help her." Bucky added, his voice steady and sure.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. She's special, mysterious, but we're not a charity. We can't keep picking up strays." He added, he looked over to Bucky, “No offence, Robo-Cop,”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I think we should give her a chance,” There were nods and a few "hmms" of agreement.

Tony was still on the fence and Nat rolled her eyes, “You can afford it,”

Tony shot her a mock glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I suppose the Tower can house one more," he conceded, a begrudging warmth seeping into his voice, “There’s a spare room beside Wanda,”

Natasha found you where they'd left you, still on the training mat, now sitting you’re your knees pulled up to your chest, lost in thought. You looked up as Natasha approached, your guard visibly rising again.

Natasha didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You're in," she said, her voice carrying a firmness that left no room for doubt. "Welcome to the Avengers."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with promise and uncertainty. Your face remained guarded, but a flicker of something—relief, perhaps, or cautious hope—passed over your features, "Thank you," you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Natasha gestured for you to follow. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

You walked in silence as she led you to a room not far from the main living area. "This will be your space," she said, opening the door to a room that was simple and clean, with a bed, a desk, and a window that looked out over the city, “I know it’s bare but you can decorate it how you want,”

You stepped inside tentatively, your eyes taking in every detail of the room. It was more than you’d expected, a place of your own within this fortress of heroes. "It's perfect," you said, allowing yourself a small smile as you ran your fingers over the smooth fabric of the bedspread.

Natasha leaned against the doorframe as your eyes floated around the room, she spoke up softly as not to startle you, “Dinner is in an hour, it’s pizza night, any preference?”

“Cheese is okay,” you replied, not wanting to be awkward and order something too extra.

“Okay, we usually eat all together but I can bring it up and you can eat in here if you prefer,” she offered, you nodded, but something in her face showed that she already knew what your decision would be. She gave you a nod and a smile before closing the door to give you privacy.

Your eyes left the closed door and started scanning the room again. The walls were a soft shade of cream, bare and waiting for a personal touch. You weren’t sure you had. It had a bed, neatly made with crisp white linens and a sturdy desk sat patiently against one wall.

But the big window was what really caught her eye. It was huge, like a giant TV screen showing the live bustle of the city below. She could see the tiny cars and people moving down there, all busy and rushing around, unaware of the girl who watched from above.

You went up to the window and pressed your hands against it. It felt cool and a little bit thrilling to see everything from up so high.

This room was a new start, a blank page. But even with the excitement, you couldn't shake off the jitters in your belly. You were scared of getting hurt again, scared of someone turning on you. Scared of turning into the thing you hated most. The killer that was planted within you. This place was safe, they said, but you’d heard that before.

Hugging yourself, you tried to imagine being part of all that life below. The room felt like a cozy nest, but you were like a bird that wasn't sure how to fly yet. One who had forgotten how to.

As the sun started to set, the sky turned all kinds of pretty colors, and lights began twinkling on in the buildings and streets. Maybe one day, you thought, one of those lights would feel like home to you.

For tonight, you were just a girl with a new room, looking out at the city and feeling a mix of hope and worry. Tomorrow you’d start figuring out how to fit into this new life. But right now, you were okay just watching and waiting, high above the quiet city that was slowly going to sleep.

An hour later, there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it to see Natasha, who remained on the other side of the threshold, a respectful distance away, holding a pizza box. The aroma of melted cheese hinted at the contents, “Here's your cheese pizza,”

You took the box, feeling the warmth from the bottom seep into your hands. “Thanks,” she replied, her stomach rumbling in response.

Natasha gave you a quick nod. “Enjoy,” she said, and then she was gone, leaving you alone with your pizza and the view of the city lights below.

[A/N] the song I listened to writing this 😂

#reader insert #female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader #Spotify

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scarletsaphire · 7 months

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Hey folks! This is my fic for the @valentines-core-exchange, going to @ghostypeppers! I did Johnny/Kitty, before they died. I hope you like it!

Johnny wasn’t one for reflection, or introspection, or really any of the -tions. At least none that he could think of, which was admittedly just those two. It just wasn’t in his nature to think back on things, or think things through, or think about what he really wanted, or think at all. It took too long, and he was never good at it anyway.

He always tried for Kitty, though.

He didn’t do it well, and he certainly didn’t do it as often as he should have, but he tried. It was why he stayed in their hometown so long, couch surfing with whatever pitiful mother would let him stay for a few nights before kicking him back on the street like his own pops had done. Johnny wasn’t about to leave her, and he wasn’t going to make her drop out just to stay with him. She deserved a chance at a good life, even if he’d given up on his.

It didn’t stop either of them from burning rubber the moment she had her diploma in hand, tearing across the country with nothing but the few bags they could fit on his bike and her arms wrapped around his torso. It had been their dream, ever since they started dating, to leave that shit hole of a city behind them, to never look back, even for a moment.

Johnny thought that would’ve been easy. There was nothing fond to look back on, not for her and certainly not for him. As far as he was concerned, the only good thing to ever come out of that place sat in his lap, with the scent of just-bleached hair clinging to her skin.

On nights like this one, it was harder said than done.

It was raining. It had been for the better part of their day, and both they and their stuff were soaked completely through. Maybe if they had a place to stay for the night, it wouldn’t have mattered as much. Sure, they didn’t need an excuse to sleep naked with each other, and they’d certainly done more than just “sleep” in the past, but having one didn’t hurt any.

But they didn’t have a place to stay. Every motel, hotel, and hostel had been either booked full or charged more money than either of them had seen in weeks, so instead they were stuck outside. Johnny’d tied the tarp he covered their bike with up against a lamp post and a stop sign off in the corner of the parking lot, giving them the illusion of cover if nothing else. There was hardly enough space for the two of them, even with Kitty in his lap, and the ground was wet and cold and hard beneath him. To say the experience was miserable would be an understatement.

Even he couldn't resist looking back on life when things went like this.

He didn't regret leaving. Johnny couldn't imagine ever regretting that. It was the closest thing to a life goal he'd ever had, and he'd take a thousand nights on the pavement over another week in the house he'd been raised in, because at least in the morning he knew he'd be able to get off the pavement. What he regretted was dragging Kitty down with him.

He wouldn't take credit for how things turned out for her. Mostly because she'd slap him if he tried. She always said that she worked hard to fail this spectacularly, but he wasn't an idiot, no matter what everyone already told him. He knew that if he hadn't shown up in her life, she might be at home safe, or at least making dumb decisions at three in the morning with a home to go back to.

He first met her under the bleachers during 3rd period. He intended on taking a smoke break, probably until lunch, when he could slip back into the building to grab whatever slop they were serving up. He'd figure out if he'd stick around for the rest of the day after that. He hadn't expected for someone to already be hiding out down there.

At the time, Kitty's hair was long and blonde, pulled back into a high ponytail. She had nice clothes, and neat makeup, and beautiful brown eyes that hardened into a glare the moment he walked into sight. He remembered just standing there, the cigarette he'd already gotten out nearly falling out of his hands. She was gorgeous. Breathtaking. The hottest chick he'd ever seen. Or at least, the hottest one he'd seen today.

Her attractiveness was only magnified by the venom that seemed to drip out of her voice. "Oh, you are turning your ass right around, do not even think about trying me."

It took Johnny a minute for his ears to catch up with his brain, and then another minute where his mouth did nothing but flop open and closed like a fish. When he finally figured out how to work his mouth again, it twisted into a smirk. "Well, I'd much prefer it if you turned your ass around, but if you insist I put on the show..."

She sputtered. "What did you just say to me?"

"I'm saying that if you want a look at my ass that bad, you only need to ask, kitty."

"Oh, so you're going to pull that card huh?" She took a step towards him. "Well, if you want to play like that, you should know that this kitty," she spat the pet name out, "has claws. And I'm not afraid to use them."

Johnny let out a low whistle, and held up his hands. "I can recognize a no when I see one. I'll find somewhere else to smoke."

He turned around, lifting his leg to climb out of the bleachers, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Wait," she said, and Johnny turned back around with one eyebrow raised. "Do you have another?"

"Maybe," Johnny said slowly, lowering his leg back to the ground. "If you pay the right price."

She removed her hand from his shoulder and held it out to him expectantly. "What I'm willing to do is let you stay here instead of having to wander across the football field in plain sight of the teacher's lounge."

Johnny weighed his options. He was normally after actual money when he sold cigarettes to students. "You know what?" he said finally. "You got yourself a deal, doll." He passed the cigarette he was still holding into her waiting fingers, before pulling out another for himself.

"I do have a name you know," she said, lowering herself to the ground. Johnny followed suit.

"Not one I know of," he said. "So until then, I get to call you whatever I want, sugar."

She opened her mouth to answer with what he assumed would be her name, before closing it slowly. "You know what? Call me Kitty all you like. It ain't like you're going to need to know my name anyway." She held her cigarette out for a light, and Johnny obliged before lighting his own.

"And here I was hoping I'd be able to see you again. Maybe tonight? The place on 8th street?"

Kitty snorted. "In your dreams. You're lucky you're getting to see me now."

She brought the cigarette to her lips, and Johnny watched how her lips pursed around it as she inhaled, parting a moment later to let the smoke billow so gently from her mouth. "Damn right I am," he said, lifting his own cigarette. Before it reached his face, his arm was knocked off track. "Hey!" Johnny exclaimed. “You punched me!”

"Yeah, and I'll do it again if you aren't careful."

Johnny swallowed hard. "Understood." This time, he was able to smoke unimpeded. Neither of them said another word, not until the faint echo of the bell marking the end of the period came from the school, and Kitty stood up.

"You heading out already?" Johnny asked without moving from the ground. "And after everything you did to make sure that this spot stayed yours."

"Yeah, well I'm done with it. If you want my sloppy seconds that bad, you can have them." Kitty didn't bother looking behind her, just waved him off as she climbed through the bleachers.

"See you around, Kitty," Johnny called just as she was about to disappear from view.

"In your dreams, dickhead," she called back, and then she was gone.

The cigarette Johnny held now was not the brand he liked, and it left a foul layer of something coating his tongue and teeth. But unlike the rest of their things, it was dry and warm and best of all, they'd gotten it for free, a pity gift from the clerk at the last hostel they tried.

"You two look like you need it more than I do," he'd said. He'd been right.

It took a few tries to get his lighter to work. He lit Kitty's first, just like he always did, and then lit his right after. The soft, orange glow that lit up their faces was a nice reprieve from the torrential rain.

"You're thinking," Kitty said.

"That doesn't sound like me," Johnny replied.

"Yeah, that's why I know you're doing it. I can hear the rust in your brain."

Johnny laughed. "Damn. Shows what I get for forgetting I had one."

"Yep," Kitty said. "So, are you gonna tell me what you're thinking 'bout, or will I need to pull it out of you?"

"Well, that entirely depends on how you're doing this pulling." Johnny couldn't see her face, not with how she was positioned in his lap. He didn't need to; he could envision the way she raised her eyebrow, the quirk of her lips in a smirk, the slight roll of her eyes. He could see her hair clinging to the side of her face, the green streaks of hair dye the rain had washed out covering her cheeks and forehead.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked in one smooth, practiced motion. "Like that."

"Fine, fine!" Johnny called out. She let go, and he moved his hand off of her hip to rub at his scalp. "You know, I'm normally a fan of hair pulling."

"I think you're a fan of the things that happen alongside hair pulling," Kitty corrected. "Now, spill."

He held his free hand up in the air in surrender, before letting it settle back into her lap. "Fine, fine." He took a deep drag of his cigarette, coating his mouth in the flavor and smoke. He held it in a beat longer than he normally would, before letting the smoke curl past his lips. "Do you... ever miss the life you were supposed to have?"

Kitty snorted. "What, churning out babies for some bastard like my sister’s doing? Not a chance."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Like always," Kitty added immediately. For a few moments, there was only the sound of their breathing and the pounding of rain against the tarp above them. "You're still worried about something."

"Who, me?" Johnny asked.

"Yes, you. Fess up."

He took a deep breath, this one not carrying any nicotine with it, before answering. "I wish things weren't like... well," He gestured with his cigarette at the parking lot they were in. "...this."

He felt rather than saw Kitty nod her head. "You know, my parents always warned me about guys like you," she said. "Always said that someone like you would come into my life, seduce me, and then leave me high and dry on the side of the road with nothing to my name, and when that happened, they wouldn't let me come crawling back to them. They were right. You're a mess. You have no money, no prospects, no job, and even if we were in any town long enough for you to get one, we both know you wouldn't be able to hold it down longer than a week."

Johnny waited as she puffed her own cigarette. She wasn't finished. At least, he hoped she wasn't finished. "It'd be easier to count the number of waitresses you haven't flirted with while we traveled than the ones you have," she continued. "We fight all the time about anything and everything. And then I leave. But you know what?"

She ground the cigarette butt into the ground next to her, casting it to the side without a thought. "You've never once been the one to leave me. Even when I yell that we're done and run off into whatever city we've found ourselves in, you always hang around until I've come back around, even though staying in one town too long makes your teeth itch. And every time we're anywhere new, you insist on bringing me to a pet shop to 'meet the natives,' and last week when we arrived in Scottsboro you had me pick up Chinese for us because that calico decided you were the perfect nap spot for like, three hours. I have to admit, she has good taste. "

Kitty spun around in his lap so that she was facing him now, wrapping her legs around his waist. "My parents were right. Running away with you means we're never going to be anything important. If I had stayed at home, maybe I'd be married to a doctor or a lawyer or an accountant or any kind of respectable job, and maybe I wouldn't be freezing my ass off out here. Maybe you did ruin the life I was supposed to live. I would've hated it anyway. At least this way, I get the chance to actually live , not just slog through the life someone else picked for me."

She leaned closer to him, lifting her face so he could smell the smoke on her breath. She looked exactly as he knew she would. "We're never going to amount to anything, but if we were to die tomorrow, the only thing I’d regret is not running away with you sooner."

Johnny smiled, extinguishing his own cigarette without breaking Kitty's gaze. "Careful, kitten. It almost sounds like you love me."

"Well, maybe I do," she said. "You just need to shut your brain back off and realize it."

"That is something I can do," he replied, just barely above a whisper, before leaning in and capturing her lips against his own.

She was right. They were never going to amount to much of anything. They were never going to be good people. They were never going to have a normal life.

That was fine by them. Normal never suited them anyway.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #Valentine's Core Exchange 2024 #johnny 13 #dp kitty #pre canon

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zacharialend · 2 years

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“We kept seeing Columbo's car around. First of all we saw it outside Burger King on Byres Road, badly parked- about five feet away from the kerb and at the craziest angle, as if he'd stopped there in a hurry. Then my brother saw it outside the place where the swimming pool and the badminton courts are. And later again I saw it parked outside the off-licence, closer to the pavement this time, and parallel too. We only ever saw the car parked, but it always seemed to be outside somewhere I liked to go. And then, when we went out for dinner on wee Karn's birthday and we were hanging our coats up on the coat-rack, we saw Columbo's old mac already hanging there, in amongst all the expensive fur and leather and things. I had a quick look around while we were being taken to our table, to see if he was there, but I couldn't see him anywhere.

But then one night while I was sitting outside on the steps playing my Gameboy, I heard a car stopping on the gravel in front of me. And while I tried to decide which way round to put the L-shaped Tetris piece that was falling, I felt someone sit down on the steps beside me. And I heard them scratching their head. And then, on the reflection on the screen, I saw that it was him

"Those really are the most fascinating little machines." he said. But I'd built up a whole high pile, which needed a single line for down the side, and I couldn't look up in case it came. "It certainly is nice around here." Columbo said, and I heard his mac moving as he looked around. The single line I'd been waiting for didn't come though, and soon my screen was filled all the way to the top. So I put it down and asked Columbo if someone from around here had been murdered

"Not murdered, sir. No." he said, "I don't think you could call it murder."

"Well what are you investigating?" I asked him

"Well, sir, it's a case of counterfeit notes. Perhaps you'd call it theft, but I'm not rightly sure. It's new for me, I'll tell you that." Then he picked up the Gameboy and stared at it, all fascinated. "Could I? Would you mind?" he said, and I showed him how to start up a game. But pretty soon the screen was full and he shook his head. "Well, well..." he said, "You know, Mrs Columbo- she's great at these sorts of things. But me, I just can't seem to get the hang of them." And he stood up and handed it back to me. "I'm sorry to have troubled you, sir." he said, "I'll let you get back to your game. You know, this really is a lovely area." And as he walked off down the steps I watched until he opened the door of his car, and I went to start up another game. But then he stopped. "Oh, I'm sorry." he said, holding one hand up in the air, with a cigar between his fingers, and looking down at the ground. "Just a little thing..." he said. And he scratched the back of his head with the hand that had been up in the air. "With something like that, sir- that little machine you have there- would someone be able to make samples with that, from records and stuff?" I laughed and shook my head. "That's fine, sir." he said, "I was just curious." Then he got into the car and drove away

I didn't think I'd see him again after that, but I was very wrong. I began to see his car around a lot more, quite often outside the houses of people I knew. And not only that, but just lately he's started turning up wherever I might be, asking me all kinds of crazy questions about technology and sampling and stuff. Pretending he's trying to learn all about it. It got me quite worried for a while, but I think I'll be alright. I think I've got him foxed. I think I've been way too clever for him...”

#lyrics #Looper #columbo #Scotland

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

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Hi hello🍄✨🌼 I would like to ask for a friends to lovers Eddie munson x fem reader, where Eddie's announcing to the reader that he's going on a date with a girl and it gets a bit angsty and they stop talking for a while but eventually she admits that that she likes him and they get together. If this is too much or not your thing feel free to ignore. Hope you have a great day ✨🌼

darling! i hope this works for you, let me know! <3 angst w fluff at the end! | 2.3k, fem!reader

The sun is warm on your face as you wait for Eddie to get out of class. You're meant to go to the library today to work on his history paper, but he's late. You don't really mind, since it's a rare early spring day in Hawkins. Having the day off, you walked to the school and chanced a skirt today, glad to stretch your legs out in front of you where you sit on the steps. The sounds of the campus are soothing as you close your eyes, chin tipped up. Someone playing frisbee, cars starting and stopping, skateboards over the pavement. Shouts and laughter. It's a perfect day.

"Don't be late tomorrow, Wheeler! You too, Henderson!" Eddie's voice from behind you makes you smile, warmth spreading through your chest at the sound.

Being friends with Eddie has made your life better in so many ways -- he is kind and caring, sure, but he is funny and brings you out of your shell. He has introduced you to a gaggle of other teens and they've welcomed you into the fold. Eddie makes your life full and makes you so happy you could burst.

Maybe it was only par for the course that you've fallen in love with him. But, friends you stay, because that is enough for you. And if sometimes you think Eddie's gaze lingers on your lips, or if he holds you a little tighter than necessary when you sleep over? Maybe someday you'll ask him about it. But first, getting him to the end of the school year and into a job at the record store with you.

You keep your eyes closed as you feel him plop down next to you, chain scraping the stone steps. He bumps his shoulder with yours.

"Now, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" The corners of your mouth turn up but you try to muster a frown. You open your eyes and allow yourself to drink him in for just a moment. Warm eyes, wide grin, messy hair. Your Eddie, pretty as a picture.

"Waiting for someone who is late," you cry, mocking affront. "I'm burning to a crisp out here."

"Looks like you're enjoying it," he smirks, running an index finder over the freckles on your cheeks."You look like a dandelion in the sun."

"Are you calling me a weed, Eddie?" You roll your eyes and stand up, brushing off your skirt. His eyes follow your movements, and you pretend not to notice. "Real nice."

"A pretty weed, babe. Honest." You snort and he laughs as you walk to his van. "And I know my weed." No doubt the sun has warmed your cheeks some, which is a good thing since you're definitely blushing.

He pulls out of the school parking lot and heads towards town after you've hopped in and buckled up.

"Y'know," he starts, glancing over at you. You're already looking at him, of course, and he smirks. "I was late because the weirdest thing happened."

"I heard you talking to Mike and Dustin. Hellfire stuff?" He shakes his head.

"No, just ran into them as I was leaving." He pauses, fingers tapping a random rhythm on the steering wheel. "Lester asked me to go out with her this Friday. To her brother's gig in the city."

"Kate Lester? From your English class?" You furrow your brow and look out the window. You feel a little mean for being surprised.

"You know her?"

"A little," you say. She'd been your lab partner your senior year. She's kind and pretty, a year younger than you, and going to University of Cincinnati in the fall, according to Nancy.

"What's she like?" Eddie huffs. "She's never talked to me before, really."

"Then why did you say yes?" The question comes before you can stop it. His eyebrows raise and he searches your face for something before looking away. Your shoulders drop.

"Well, she asked, I guess." He shrugs. "Seems to think I'll like some amateur punk music. Don't know where she got that idea." He looks at you to see if you'll laugh at him, but you're focused on the road.

"She's nice," you say, and you mean it. She is nice. "I'm sure you'll have a great time." You try to keep your voice bright because you really do want him to have a nice date, even if it's with someone who doesn't know him like you do, with someone who doesn't already love every inch of him. Eddie is a catch, anyone should be able to see that.

It's just that you thought everyone knew you and Eddie were youandEddie. Even if you're just friends, it's been you two against the world for a while. Late nights watching him practice his guitar, staying over in the trailer after helping him study, long walks when he has nightmares. You've got a drawer of his clothes in your room and he made you the guest of honor at Hellfire Club for your birthday and he visits you at work whenever he can. You know that he loves you, but maybe it's not ever going to be the way you love him.

"What's wrong, sweet thing?" The pet name makes you shiver. His hand reaches over and cups your knee, thumb pressing into the bare skin, his rings leaving little indents. His eyes flick between you and the road and you feel a little guilty, but can't muster the will to pretend.

"Headache," you mumble. He gives you a squeeze before letting go.

"Do you want me to take you home?" His voice is soft, gentle with you in that way of his.

You shake your head. "We agreed to do your essay today, Eds." He's smart on his own, but he works harder when you're there to encourage him.

"I can read and write, you know. I'll be fine on my own, honest. I'll drop you at home."

"You sure?" You're going to be no help anyway, now that you're sulking over a date that hasn't even happened yet. He nods.

That night you try not to think about it but you fail. Your brain is fuzzy all week at work, but when Friday rolls around you put on a brave face.

"We're leaving right after school," he tells you at lunch -- he's driven over to see you on your break during his free period. "Driving into the city and then back tonight."

"Be safe, okay?" you say. "No drinking." Eddie is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. Still, you can't help but make him promise.

"I'd never," he replies, seriously. "We'll just see some shitty music and be back before midnight, probably."

"Are you excited?" you ask, running your hands through your hair to stop yourself from brushing his out of his face.

He hums noncommittally. "Lotta driving for a first date," he huffs, as if it just occurred to him. "Didn't even know she knew my name till this week."

If you didn't know him so well you'd say he was self conscious. "Oh, stop that," you say. "You're a catch, Eddie Munson, you hear me? She's lucky to be going on a date with you."

Eddie fixes his gaze on you and looks and looks and looks. You meet his stare with your own, until he breaks and grabs your hand, dragging it up for a sweet kiss. Your heart breaks a little, but you smile.

____

You don't know why you do it, really, but you avoid Eddie for the whole weekend after his date. And the entire week after. You sit in the break room during lunch in case he comes in, and pick up extra shifts to beg off when he asks you to hang out. You even go to the skatepark with Max. Anything to keep you busy. A small, ugly part of you wonders if he even notices.

Robin calls you from work a week after you last really spoke to Eddie.

"Do you know why Munson is in Family Video right now looking like a kicked puppy?" she asks, the line crackling. "Steve is telling him he's scaring away customers."

"Why did you call me about it?" you ask, twirling the phone chord around your fingers. It's Saturday night and you would bet that it's just the three of them in the store.

"Don't be dense," Robin replies, not unkindly. "Does this have to do with his date last week?"

"Robin, shh! Can he hear you?" You pause. "Wait, how do you even know about that?"

"Kate told Carol in the locker room and Vickie overheard and told me. Do you even know how it went?" She sighs. "Of course you don't, since Eddie has told us no less than four times that you haven't spoken for a week."

The guilt rises up in your throat. Have you gone and done the thing you wanted to prevent in the first place -- ruin your friendship?

"Is he mad?" you whisper into the phone. Robin barks a laugh.

"Mad? Have you ever seen Eddie get mad? Other than that time when I made fun of his music. But at you? I don't think he can get mad at you." You rub at your eyes with your free hand.

"Okay," you say. "Okay. Can you tell him to come over to my house, please?"

"Roger that," she chirps. It sounds like she pulls the phone away from her mouth before yelling, "Munson! Y/N wants you at her house, pronto."

You hear a faint Thank Christ from Steve and a Really? from Eddie.

"Thanks, Robin," you say.

"No, thank you," she laughs before hanging up.

The sun is setting, so you decide to throw on a sweatshirt and wait for him outside so you can go for a walk. You've barely sat on your stoop when Eddie's van pulls into your drive. He seems to steel himself before getting out.

"Hey," he calls, his voice hoarse. You stand. It takes about four second of looking at him for you to start running and before you know it you're in his arms. He thunks back against the door of his van and you bury your face in his neck, his hair tickling you, but you don't mind. His hands stroke your back, up and down, and the tension seems to leak out of him.

"Hey," you whisper, before you pull away from him just enough to see his face. He looks wrecked and your stomach twists. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No," he says loudly into the night. His hands come up to cup your face on either side. "No, I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm so fucking sorr--"

You place your fingers over his mouth. "You didn't do anything." He looks confused, so you continue. "This was all me, Eds. I've been a horrible friend to you this week and that's the last thing I wanted to do but I went ahead and did it anyway."

"Why?" he breathes. You take his hands in your own and draw them down between you.

"I--," you start, then take a deep breath. "How was your date?" you ask. You need to know before you tell him.

Eddie looks confused, but answers. "Music was fine. She just wanted me there to make the drummer in her brother's band jealous," he admits, rolling his eyes. Your eyebrows furrow at that. "It's okay though," he continues. "Because I'm not really into Kate."

"Oh," you let out.

"But what does that have to do with you not talking to me?" His thumbs trace circles on your skin. His eyes have nothing but warmth for you and it gives you courage. He'll forgive you for this, you think. You can still be friends.

"I want more than anything for you to be happy, Eddie," you say, and then lose your nerve at the last second, closing your eyes before continuing. "But I'm in love with you." His thumbs still.

"And I know that's no excuse for how I've treated you this week, because we're friends first and you're my best friend and --"

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, sounding breathless. "Look at me, please." Your eyes fly open. He's looking at you the way he looks at his guitar, the way he looks when he's finished a campaign he's proud of, the way he looks at you when you wake up next to him.

He's looking at you like he always does, you realize. He's looking at you like he loves you.

"Can you say it again?" he whispers.

You don't hesitate. "I love you, Eddie." The words seem to pour out of you now. "I have for a while. And it made me jealous to hear you were going on a date, which I have no right to be, since you should be happy with whoever you wa--"

"Hey," he interrupts again, and this time you can see the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Let a guy talk, huh?" His hands return to your face and you nuzzle into one palm. "I am happy." He smiles. "Happy with you." He sighs, and it's a happy sound, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "My best friend." His lips find your right cheek next to his hand, and then your left. "Girl of my dreams," he continues, and you're grinning, now. He kisses your nose and you giggle.

Eddie pulls away and you almost whine. He looks serious, but you can't stop smiling.

"I'm in love with you," he says. "I love you. Can I kiss you?" You find the ability to nod somehow, since Eddie has just blown your world to pieces and you didn't know you could feel this happy. But as his lips find yours and your hands tangle in his hair, you think that you could get used to it.

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#anon ask #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things s4 #please excuse all typos i just wrote this #first fanfic on this account WOOO #reblog and share and all that bc i have no followers yet <3 #emma’s asks

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Ticket to Ride - Part 3

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including unprotected and oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕔𝕖, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy slammed the door of his hotel room closed behind him. He was fuming.

Damn!!! Damn, fuck, damn, fuck, fuck, fuck! He stormed across the room and threw himself onto the bed, hands linking behind his head on the pillows, glaring up at the ceiling. Apart from anything else, his male pride was injured - he was an ex-Marine for fuck’s sake! And he’d been outsmarted by a... a.. civilian!!

Lying there for a while, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Micro couldn’t track her phone this time, and fuck knows where she was headed. Or... had she gone somewhere else? Or just moved to another location in London?

His gut told him she’d gone somewhere else. Those apartments she’d been staying in were for longer-term lets, not just one or two-night stays. Maybe she was using that as a base of operations like he would’ve done in the military. Yeah, he liked the sound of that. He sat up suddenly, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening Google Maps. He searched for Wood Wharf and when it listed up, he moved the map around with a finger and within a couple of seconds spotted what he’d been looking for - City Airport.

Billy grinned. He was back on her trail, he just knew it.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank jolted awake, and after a few seconds realised that his phone was ringing. He grabbed it, screwing up his bleary eyes as he tried to read the time and who was calling. Shit, it was 1 a.m.! And it was Micro. What the hell?

He accepted the call, hearing Micro’s muffled voice saying, “Frank?” “Yeah, yeah... what’s up, Micro? And you sound like you’re underwater.” There was a slight pause and a swallowing sound, “M’eatin’ a donut. Sorry. Look, Russo’s just texted me again - this time he wants me to search for her on flights outta London City Airport. I said ok... but....” his voice trailed off.

Frank sighed. He hated this, he was stuck slap bang in the middle of all this shit between Billy, Karen and Billy’s girl.

Billy - he could kick his dumb ass for ‘messin’ around’ with Madani. Karen - he really didn’t want to upset his girl. And Billy’s girl - he felt sorry for her that she’d had to put up with Billy’s recent bad behaviour but.... he’d been so relaxed and happy since the two of them got together. So... he’d give his idiot friend a break... but only a small one.

“Yeah OK, Micro, go ahead with what he asked ya to do. Let Russo know once you got an answer for him, then you tell me. And if Karen ever asks, you didn’t call me ‘bout this till a helluva lot later this mornin’. Got it!?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Stepping out of the lift onto the landing of the 20th floor, you were met by a view across the harbour and a symphony in red - carpets, walls, doors.

(My Photos - Dec 2014)

The W was even better than you’d imagined, and as you reached your room and opened the door, you loved the view you got all along the beach from the big picture windows.

After you’d unpacked, you dropped a quick text to Karen just letting her know where you were, then left your room to go and have a walk around the local area, called Barceloneta according to your online guide book.

There was a cooling sea breeze, the sun was shining and you turned your face up towards it.

The W Hotel was right at the far end of the beach, and you had a pleasant stroll along it until you reached a busy street called Passeig Joan de Borbó, which ran parallel to the marina known as Port Vell. You passed several restaurants and decided that you’d have an early lunch in one of them, rather than eating at the hotel. You could have dinner or even room service there later on.

Sitting at an outside table, looking at the yachts moored at the marina, watching all the people strolling by on the wide pavement, sipping at a glass of wine.... you gave a happy sigh and relaxed back in your seat.

Billy would never find you here.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Touching down in Barcelona, Billy watched the airport buildings rushing past as the air brakes were applied and the plane began to slow down. He was impressed with how short a flight it was from London; it was only a few hours since Micro had messaged him with the search results and he was here already.

He made his way through Passport Control and headed for the taxi rank, joining the queue and eventually being waved towards one of the waiting cars by the attendant.

Half an hour later, he was checking into the W. He felt excited, pleased, a thrill of anticipation - he’d caught up with her this time. Now all he had to do was dump his stuff in his room and stake out the lobby until she inevitably showed up.

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You’d walked up the full length of Joan de Borbó until you’d reached a new area of town called El Born. There was a lovely park - it had been built over a citadel from long ago when Barcelona had been occupied by invaders - and it was full of narrow little streets and cute artisan boutiques. Stopping for a coffee next to an old market building - the Mercat del Born - which had been converted into a cultural centre, once again you just enjoyed the sunshine and watching the world go by.

You looked around at the beautiful buildings; how lovely it would be to live in an apartment in one of these like the locals did. Most of the buildings had ‘Juliet balconies’, not especially spacious but enough to be able to step out of your apartment, maybe sit and enjoy the fresh air if you had room for a little chair. Some of the balconies had lush green plants in big ceramic pots on them, and you thought that sitting out there in amongst them would be like having your own little cocoon from the outside world.

You had a leisurely stroll through the neighbourhood, taking an interest in the small stores, tapas bars and old buildings. At the far end of the Passeig del Born you admired the huge Santa Maria del Mar, a church which your guide book told you was a fine example of Catalan Gothic. This opinion you agreed with - it was a beautiful church and you ventured inside to quietly look at its impressive yet simple interior.

You came out and turned onto Carrer Montcada, where the famous Picasso Museum was located. Not that you were going to go and check it out - your guide book had given some ‘best times to queue’ and spending time in a line of tourists was not your idea of fun - but you wanted to see if El Xampanyet, a famous tapas bar, was still open so you could have a glass of cava. Unfortunately it wasn’t, it had closed a couple of hours earlier and wouldn’t reopen for another couple. Sighing, you decided to walk along Montcada which would take you to Carrer Princesa, you could walk down it and cut round past the Mercat del Born again, back to Barceloneta and the W.

You were feeling a little peckish and the thought of some chilled cava and something to eat was really appealing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy felt his eyes slowly closing. He shook himself awake behind his newspaper, he couldn’t risk falling asleep but what with his disturbed night’s sleep and then his dash to Barcelona was making even him - an ex-Marine who could function on little or no sleep - feel really fatigued.

Sitting in one of the comfy sofas in reception for the past hour or so was not helping, the quiet hum of voices and people entering and leaving by the revolving doors was soothing him into a drowsy state. The newspaper he’d been pretending to read was in Catalan, totally impenetrable to him so he’d had to resort to just looking at the pictures, not the best at keeping his mind active.

He heard the ‘swoosh’ of the revolving door again, looked up and then froze. It was her!! He peeked round the edge of his paper.

She was heading for the lifts, looking in her bag for her keycard as she walked, she needed to swipe it so she could go up to her floor.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The lift doors opened and you stepped inside, running your keycard over the reader and hitting the button for floor 20. The doors began to close but then suddenly sprang apart again as someone hit the Call button, and you looked up with the usual polite but disengaged smile that people give each other in lifts.

Billy Russo was looking back at you, a small smile on his face as he hit the ‘Close Doors’ button.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She’d shrank back from him as soon as she’d realised it was him. Billy was incredibly hurt by that. He wasn’t going to harm her!!! He reached a hand out towards her but she moved even further away from him, right into the corner of the lift.

He said her name, then, “Sweetheart.... please! Just hear me out. That’s all I want to do - talk to you.” She glared at him, “Talk!! You want to talk? Ha!! And why would I want to listen to you!?” Billy grabbed her, getting her in a bear hug, kissing her hard and hungrily. He could feel her struggling in his arms but then she began to relax the tiniest little bit, so he just kept on kissing her passionately.

There was a ‘ting’ as the express lift reached its requested floor, and the doors opened onto the landing. There were two elderly ladies standing there and as Billy’s lips broke away from hers, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at them as they stared. “Ladies,” he nodded, firmly taking his girl’s arm in his and pulling her along with him as he got out of the lift.

“That’s not talking!!” she hissed at Billy.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were towed along behind Billy until he stopped outside your door. So.... he even knew your room number. Why hadn’t Karen given you the heads-up this time? You were feeling very uneasy. Billy was on a mission, that was clear.

He’d grabbed your keycard while he was kissing you in the lift. Why hadn’t you struggled harder? Because you’d missed him, of course. You didn’t like it, but you couldn’t deny it.

Now he swiped the keycard against the reader on the door, opened it and bundled you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. He let go of your arm and strode into the room past the centre-located bed which faced the huge window and made his way over to it, looking out at the view it gave of the beaches and the city.

(My Photo - Dec 2015)

He sat on the window seat and turned towards you, “Please... let me explain. Have a seat.” Reluctantly you sat at the opposite end of the long seat, but then stood back up again. You needed a drink. Picking up the bottle of gin from the small table by the window, you walked over to the mini fridge and opened it, taking out a small bottle of tonic water before retrieving a glass from the cupboard above it. You walked over to the large unit under the wall-mounted TV and put it all down, then prepared a G&T for yourself and took a large gulp.

“Nothing for me?” asked Billy, with his best puppy-dog eyes and pout. Heaving a sigh, you went back over to the fridge and took out a bottle of Estrella Damm beer for him, popping the top off it for him. Picking up your G&T on the way back to the window seat, you handed him the beer and sat down.

He took a large swig of the beer, and began, “Sweetheart, I....” but you cut him off. “If you dare to say ‘it’s not what you think’, I’ll chop your balls off, Billy.” He winced, and you shot at him, “What’s her name?” Billy shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but again you beat him to it, “And don’t give me any bullshit. I’m not stupid.”

Billy sighed, taking another drink of his beer, “I know you’re not, sweetheart. But I swear I didn’t cheat on you, it was just about getting information.” “What. Is. Her. Name!?” you ground out. His head went down and he said, “Dinah Madani. She works for Homeland,” but not meeting your eyes. “Okay, Russo. Now we’re getting somewhere. What exactly did you get up to with Mizzz Madani?” “Nothing! I swear!” You stood up abruptly, and Billy - who’d been leaning in towards you - rocked back a bit. “Oh, fuck off Billy!” you yelled, “I can smell the guilt off you!”

You were getting angrier and angrier, “You say you wanna talk and then all you do is lie! Get out! Go on - just get out of my room!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy opened his mouth to say something placatory but seeing just how furious she looked, he decided that a tactical withdrawal was probably the sensible option.

So instead he drained his beer, stood up and began walking to the door. He stopped and turned halfway across the room, gazing at her, “But I do need to properly explain all this to you, angel. Let’s talk later, okay? Please - just give me a chance.”

She nodded, “OK. Tomorrow morning.” He walked to the door, feeling defeated, and left her room. At least she was gonna give him another shot.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The door closed behind him, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Truly, you hadn’t been sure how he was going to react when you told him to leave - Billy had a temper on him. You really didn’t think he’d physically hurt you but he always had that air of danger about him. And you’d been so angry yourself, you’d kind of lost yourself in it.

He might be dangerous, but he was a cowardly little shit when it came to telling the truth. You thought back to what he’d said - ‘Nothing, I swear’ - yeah, a likely story! He must think you were so dumb!

Picking up the room service menu, you had a brief look through it then ordered a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. While waiting for it, you got your laptop out of your bag and opened it up.

Sorry Barcelona, I haven’t seen even half of what I’d intended to and I’d been so looking forward to exploring.

But instead, I’ve got to love you and leave you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy stepped out of the walk-in shower wearing one of the hotel’s fluffy white dressing robes, and headed to his mini-bar. He needed another beer. And some food. He flicked through all the stuff lying out on the unit, finally finding the room service menu and ordering a steak and a coffee.

He sat on the window seat while he waited, propped up against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was feeling guilty, uneasy and really not pleased with himself. Telling her the truth was turning out to be more difficult than he’d thought. He wondered out loud, “Why is that?” but in fact he damn well knew why. The way he’d been carrying on with Madani was wrong. Even if he’d only been intent on getting information, it was just like Frank had said - cheating - and he knew it. Even if, in Billy’s book, there was Cheating Lite and Cheating For Real, and his overstepping had only been into Lite territory. Was it really that bad?

Who was he kidding? Unsurprisingly, his girl didn’t like to share.

So one thing he knew for sure was that when - if - he ever told her the complete truth, his angel was going to be very, very unhappy with him indeed.

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You’d ordered a very early room service breakfast and after you’d eaten it while enjoying the view, your belongings were quickly stowed away and you took the lift down to the lobby. After checking out - and assuring the receptionist there was nothing wrong, you just had to leave earlier than you’d anticipated - you were on your way to the revolving door when your phone vibrated.

Karen: Billy got Micro to track you down again, sorry hon! He knows you’re in Barcelona 😳 he’ll be heading out there.

You: Yeah, he’s already here! Caught up with me yesterday evening. Agreed we’d talk this morning. But I’m in a taxi on the way to the airport 😉

Karen: 😂😂😂

Once outside, one of the guest services guys waved up a taxi from the nearby rank for you, and wished you a pleasant journey. The taxi driver asked you which terminal you were headed to, and then you were on your way.

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Barcelona

(My Photos - Dec 2019)

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3

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#billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher 💀#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic

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stanning-reyna · 3 years

Text

The Sweetest Thing

A post-tlo percabeth one-shot

Percy smeared the bubblegum ice cream onto her nose.

She blinked at him, stunned.

“That wasn’t what I meant when I asked for a spoonful.”

“Well you should have specified,” he teased, continuing to lick the cone.

“I’m sorry, I thought my request was clear enough,” Annabeth replied, scrunching her nose as the cream began to drip down it.

The two were sitting on a bench in the middle of Central Park. It was their first date outside of Camp, but Annabeth didn’t count any of those as real dates. It wasn’t very romantic when you couldn’t escape the giggles and pointed fingers of your siblings.

“So what ideas does that big brain of yours have for Mount Olympus?” Percy asked, finally handing her a napkin to wipe the ice cream off her face with. She took it, cleaned her nose, and leaned forward to wipe the excess ice cream onto his face. Percy tried to dodge her hand, but was too slow and ended up with blue stickiness across his cheek.

She sat back, satisfied with her payback. Then she remembered the daunting question Percy had just asked: what ideas did she have for Mount Olympus? If Annabeth was being honest, her brain had hit a wall the past few weeks. How was she supposed to create something fit for the literal gods?

Percy seemed to pick up on her distress. Annabeth felt him staring and met his eyes, which contained a bright glint she had become familiar with.

“I know that look. What crazy idea do you have now?”

He shrugged. “Just that I know this cool park that I think you’d like. It’s across half of Manhattan, though, so it’ll take some walking.”

“We walked through the entire Labyrinth, I think we can handle a stroll.”

“In that case,” Percy said grandly, offering an arm. She sighed and stood up, stretching her arms above the head, the empty ice cream cup in her hand. She turned to the trashcan next to the bench on and tossed it in.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” she asked, turning to face him with her hands on her hips.

He pouted, still standing with his arm outstretched for her. She slipped her arm through his, making a show of rolling her eyes, but on the inside she felt giddy to be so close to him.

Percy led her through the city, pointing at different buildings they passed and telling her some of the history behind them. She was surprised that he knew so many names and dates, that wasn’t usually his forte. She decided to ask him where the sudden nerdiness had come from.

His face flushed and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, after you first told me you liked architecture, I started getting a lot more interested in it. New York’s full of a bunch of cool buildings and stuff, so I did some research. I thought it might be nice to have someone to talk to who knew something about architecture.”

Despite her best efforts, Annabeth felt a stupidly-big grin spread across her face. She couldn’t help it. She looked at him, hoping she wasn’t blushing as badly as he was.

“It’s dumb, I know. I’m sure you’d rather talk to someone smarter than me about it,” he mumbled, looking down at the dirty pavement they were walking on.

“No, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Seaweed Brain.”

#no but I love these two #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo fanfiction #pjo fanfic #tlo #the last olympian #percy jackson fanfic #percabeth fanfic #annabeth chase fanfic

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phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

King

cw: heavy angst, non-canon character death, violent imagery, emetophobia

It’s pretty long, so heed the Read More.

...

Bakugou is sitting in the police station.

Time isn’t moving forward with him. It has a hand over his mouth holding him back, holding him down, beneath the surface of the unreal waters which suspend him. All sounds reach his ears muffled. The phone ringing, and the station hand answering. Chatter, officers exchanging details, Bakugou winces at the utterance of the word “explosion”. None of it is real. None of it can be happening to him.

He jangles the handcuffs on his wrist, and this attracts the weary attention of the station hands. The cuffs aren’t necessary. He is not going anywhere. He sits, and he stares forward, and his ears ring.

Bakugou has fucked up. Bakugou understands for the first time in his life the sensation of fucking up beyond repair. He is watching dreams evaporate in front of his eyes, staring forward unseeingly at the pallid white floor tiles around him. His eyes trace their lines. He does not see them. They are not real. He is not real. He has fucked up. He has fucked up.

Behind his eyelids, a single image burns. It is branded into his eyes. The scorched wick of a torso lingers there, shifting to a negative impression of itself with each blink. A torched wick, balanced on disembodied legs, falling forward. Falling forward. Falling forward. Falling forward again with each blink. It’s a sight he has no way to unsee.

His heart rate picks up. His breathing comes faster and shallower. He says nothing. He has fucked up. He has fucked up, and he can never fix this.

Because he is still, and because he is silent, no one pays him any mind.

…

A man walks into the precinct. He is just a bit portly, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie. He shrugs off the tweed overcoat, leaving just vest and undershirt and tie, and hangs it with familiarity on the coat rack by the entrance. He lifts his bowler’s hat in greeting, and overlapping responses greet him from the precinct office. “Fujimori” is uttered, affably. He extends a hand, and several workers shake it with a smile. A joke is cracked. A chorus of deep belly laughs follow. The man with the bowler’s hat – Fujimori – calms his mirth and asks one of the officers about his kids, and when the idle chatter ends, he asks where his client is.

Fingers point toward Bakugou. Fujimori lumbers over, with a confidence that reminds Bakugou of lions, his face at ease. Fujimori lowers himself to a squat so he is eye level with Bakugou.

“I’m Hiroji Fujimori. I’m a lawyer with U.A. You’ve had a hell of a day, huh, Katsuki Bakugou? Why don’t I help get those handcuffs off and get you home for some rest?”

Bakugou looks up. He hears the words, but his ears are still ringing, so he clearly has not heard them correctly. It sounded like the man said he was going home.

“Home?” Bakugou asks.

“Well, the U.A. dorms. Under protective custody but, I promise, you won’t even notice.”

“I’m not going home,” Bakugou responds. He isn’t sure it’s his own voice speaking, or his own lips moving.

“Oh? Got somewhere else you’re headed?”

“Jail.”

Fujimori lets out a deep laugh, the kind that rumbles his whole body. He fans himself briefly with the casefile in hand. “Right. Right right right, no one’s given you the run-down. Ease back those shoulders, son, you’re not headed to jail. Chin up! Try for a smile. This isn’t my first rodeo.” He offers a nod back to the officers. “Ain’t that right?”

There’s a chorus of agreement. Bakugou is looking, but not processing. His mind hangs on “not headed to jail.”

“…When am I going to jail, then?”

“Hopefully never! Not very becoming of a U.A. Hero to be doing time, hmm? Come on. There’s a car waiting out front for you. Let’s gather up your stuff and get you home. Bet you’re dying for something more comfortable than this chair, and these cuffs. Hell, I bet you want nothing more than a night in your own bed right now. Poor boy,” and Fujimori angles his head over his shoulder, “just how many hours have you lot kept him all tied up here, hmm? A touch reprehensible.”

Fujimori is wrong. Bakugou is not thinking about his bed or rest or sleep. Nor is he concerned with how many hours he’s been sitting at the precinct – though it’s been several. He has not thought about those things because time has not restarted. Because there is no future of his to consider with a bed and rest and sleep, not with the unfixable thing he’s done.

Bakugou says none of what he’s thinking. He’s uncharacteristically uncapable of trying. So he silently stands when Fujimori motions him to, and follows as Fujimori takes him back to the precinct desk, where Fujimori strikes up another amicable conversation with the officer in possession of the keys.

…

Back at the dorms, Bakugou showers off the smell of flesh that isn’t his own. He crawls into his U.A. bed for what he is sure is the last time. Hours pass staring at the ceiling, until Bakugou slips into dreams which play back his own last calamitous explosion to him a few dozen more times.

…

Fujimori is waiting for him the next morning, parked alongside the grass outside with the dew brushing along the footboard of his Mercedes. He is wearing a different suit today, a darker one, and he is holding two steaming cups of coffee, one which he offers to Bakugou. Bakugou takes it, though he isn’t sure why. The feeling of heat soaking into his palm is abhorrent.

“How’d you sleep?” Fujimori asks. His attendant opens the back-left passenger door for Bakugou. Bakugou stares. He does not answer, and he does not get in. Fujimori continues. “We’ll just be headed into the office for a few hours this morning. Some of my colleagues would like to meet you and hash over some details from yesterday. Might ask you to sign a few papers, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Fujimori gets in the back-right passenger door. The attendant takes the wheel. Once settled, Fujimori cranks up the AC and fans himself with the documents in his hand. He motions for Bakugou to get in as well. This time, Bakugou complies. Fujimori leans over and shuts the car door for him.

“You said you’re a U.A. lawyer?” Bakugou finally asks. He grips the coffee too tightly in his lap. He’s wearing his U.A. uniform, with the pants hitched up correctly. It’s what he was ordered to wear.

“Sure am. Going on 20 years this September. Y’know, I’ve got a son a little bit younger than you. HUGE fan of the U.A. Sports Festival. I get tickets and bring him every year. You were his top-ringer, favorite by a mile. Your victory over that Todoroki kid—

“Stop.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop.”

“Ah, sports festival a sour subject with you, son? As I recall you did end up restrai—”

“No. Stop being so casual. And friendly. Like this. Sports festival. Sports festival?! Like that’s ever going to matter again!” Bakugou’s voice builds toa crescendo, pent up horror spilling from his mouth like a faucet. “It’s cruel, don’t you think, to make me talk about U.A. like I’m ever coming back.”

“Hey now, the way I see it you’ve still got another two full years at that school before they’re done with you.”

“If you think that then you don’t know what happened yesterday. What kind of lawyer are you who doesn’t even know—”

“I know your case file forward and back, son. I’m no amateur. In fact, I’m very very skilled at what I do.”

“Then you know that I k—”

“—Calculated an unwinnable risk, and acted under extreme duress, and fear for you own life, in the face of a paralyzingly dangerous situation. And I know that your actions were necessary to ensure the safety of yourself and all others in the area.” Fujimori raises his own coffee to his lips and drinks from it, leaving the both of them to ruminate in the whir of the A.C. “An admirable and heroic act, with a tragic but unavoidable outcome.”

Bakugou feels colder, in a part of himself untouched by the A.C.

“…It wasn’t like that,” he whispers.

“I assure you it was, boy.”

The car blinker clicks on. They hang a left. Bakugou fixes his eyes out the window, watching the world spin by him. There’s an anger like solid ice encasing his heart, the kind he cannot act on, the kind that paralyzes him in his seat, the kind he’d only felt once before – when All Might lost his power for him – that Bakugou had vowed to never feel again.

Self-hatred. Ice instead of fire. That is what makes it so paralyzing.

“…Why are you representing me?”

“Because U.A. requested that I do.”

“And why would U.A. care? This wasn’t a U.A. mission. This didn’t have anything to do with them.”

Fujimori turns and offers him a warm smile. His face is disarming, and gentle, and grandfatherly, and he extends a hand to pat Bakugou on the shoulder.

“Come now, I think you’re a sharp enough boy to figure out the answer to that question.”

…

Bakugou leaves the office numb again. His memories of the incident feel hazier now. They feel less his own. He’s been asked to hold on to someone else’s construction, to coddle it in his mind until he believes it is his own. He needs to sew it back into himself. And forget his own memories. And move on.

Six hours have passed since he walked into the conference room with Fujimori, met with a half-dozen other lawyers whose names and faces all escape him now. He’s been asked too many times to describe the villain’s face, to describe man’s dress and his expression and his body language. Bakugou no longer trusts any memory he has of face, and body, and dress, and name.

Bakugou does not remember what, precisely, the villain said to him. He does not remember how he said it or why. Or how the villain had used his quirk, or how many times, or how close to Bakugou. Bakugou knows with certainty the villain had smashed him into the pavement, because it is that white-hot rage he felt in response that is seared into the memory behind his eyelids, like an after-image in the wake of an atom bomb.

The missing details, the absent paint strokes in his memory, have been helpfully filled in for him. Bakugou has been informed by the half-dozen lawyers that the villain had attacked him first, and with such bloodlust and such aggression that Bakugou had acted purely, and only, in defense of himself. Bakugou has been informed that the contusions to the back of his skull, documented at the police station, and the abrasions along his arms and legs and back all constitute intense physical trauma, from the villain who struck first, against Bakugou who had every reason to fear for his life.

Bakugou has been informed that the villain was a scoundrel, a lowlife, a man with a record and no family and no ties to the community.

Bakugou ruminates on all these new elements he’s been told to graft into his memory, as the car vibrates beneath him and Fujimori makes idle one-sided chatter on their ride back to U.A. All these memories meld together, such that Bakugou cannot pick apart what is his own, and what is not. He stares into the blood-red setting sun over the horizon, and he realizes he never will be able to.

There were no witnesses. There were no cameras. The only other man, who might otherwise have had the chance to defend himself, is dead.

…

Bakugou showers again. He already showered this morning. Bakugou tells himself it is because he’s been out all day. He doesn’t let himself consider what about the outing has made him feel so unclean.

So he doesn’t think about it, and he scrubs off the phantom lingering smells of burnt flesh from his body, and towels off, and changes into sweats. Alone in his room, with the blood red of the setting sun eking through his window, Bakugou considers going right to bed. His eyes shift to the clock beside his bed. It’s 5pm, and he hasn’t eaten yet today.

Bakugou stands, indecisive, and moves to the door.

When he opens it, he sucks in a sharp breath. Todoroki is standing at his doorway, leaning ever so slightly against the wall, his appraising eyes roving once over Bakugou before he straightens up entirely.

“Move,” Bakugou says.

“Where did you go with Fujimori this morning?”

Bakugou balks, only for an instant. He shoves past Todoroki, and sets his focus on navigating to the dorm kitchen. “Who?”

“The lawyer. I saw from the window. You were talking to him. You got in his car. And you’ve been gone the whole day until now.”

“What do you care?” Bakugou picks up his pace. Todoroki matches it.

“Because it’s Fujimori.”

“I don’t know what that means. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

“What did he want with you? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck off.”

“Tell me.”

Bakugou stops cold and whirls on Todoroki. He feels his hand twitch, but he thinks better of it.

“It’s from my work study. It’s confidential. I can’t tell you, and I wouldn’t tell you anyway. We’re not friends. You don’t demand things from me. Fuck. Off.”

Bakugou takes off again.

“Fujimori…” Todoroki trails off. He hustles to keep himself in lock step with Bakugou, flanking him, refusing to be shaken off. “Just tell me why it’s Fujimori then.”

“Again, I do not fucking know what that question means. Why the fuck do you expect me to know anything? Do I look like a lawyer? Go bug Deku, you clingy piece of shit.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Bakugou rounds the corner, Todoroki in tow, and he finds himself face to face with Midoriya. Midoriya has one eyebrow quirked, hair wet from his own shower, grasping a glass of water in his hands. Midoriya’s eyes flicker between Bakugou and Todoroki.

“What… are you two up to? Uh, something fun?”

“Good.” Bakugou grabs Midoriya by the shoulders, lifts him, and spins halfway around in place. He plants Midoriya back down as a human divide between himself and Todoroki. “Deku’s here. Go bug each other.”

Midoriya looks back and forth between Bakugou and Todoroki. Worry creases his brow. “Um, okay? Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Todoroki?”

Bakugou glances for a fraction of a second at the kitchen, and curses under his breath, and turns in place, and shoves past Todoroki and Midoriya. He stalks back to his room, where he slams the door shut and locks it. He throws himself onto his bed and buries his face in his pillow, not bothering with the lights.

There’s muffled chatter in the hall. There are footsteps pattering overhead. There is a world outside his room that has spun on without him.

The question ‘why Fujimori?’ sits like a rock in Bakugou’s chest, and he rips the pillow out from beneath himself, pressing it over his head completely.

It’s fully dark now. Bakugou has no intention of moving from bed.

It is 5:07 pm.

…

Bakugou remembers very few details from the incident, anymore.

His memories are more like wispy embers, and they burn, and they flash-ignite without warning. He remembers heat, humidity, sapping sweat dripping down his hairline and curving along his nose. Heaving breath like a swelling knife wound in his bruised chest cavity. The viscous wetness of blood mingling and running in spider veins down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, where it painted his teeth and tasted coppery on his tongue.

He remembers rage, white hot, swamping his mind. He remembers uproarious indignation that anyone could fell him like that, crack his head open on the concrete like that, knock the air from his lungs like that, make him taste his own blood like that. He remembers his every breath being a wheezing effort. He remembers the sun searing him, blisteringly bright, when he could manage to pry his eyes open to the spinning sky above. He remembers a ringing that stole all sound from his ears.

Bakugou no longer knows anything past that. His memories aren’t his own. The ones that were are overwritten, or buried, deformed beneath the crushing weight of denial. But he hadn’t meant to. He knows he hadn’t meant to. It has to be that he hadn’t meant to.

A slamming at his door tears him from his hazy half sleep. Bakugou sits bolt-upright, and his heart is slamming in his throat.

“Yo, dude, you get dinner yet? I haven’t seen you like all day. What’s up?”

Bakugou blinks, bleary-eyed, and the clock at his bedside swims into view. It’s 8:47 pm.

Bakugou lays back down. His every nerve remains on fire.

“Go away, I’m sleeping.”

Bakugou can sense the hesitation at the door.

“Alright,” Kirishima answers, and his voice is careful. “Catch you tomorrow then.”

…

In the common area, Kirishima walks in with his fingers threaded through his loose hair, his motions agitated, and he falls onto the couch beside Midoriya.

“Yo, hey, Midoriya, you know Bakugou pretty well, yeah? Do you think something’s like, up with him?”

Midoriya looks up from his phone. Iida, sitting on the adjacent couch, slams his book shut with entirely too much force. “Bakugou had an excused absence from class today! I can confirm this, if you are worried he is shirking from his student duties.”

“Nah nah – I mean – maybe that’s part of it, I dunno. But it’s not just that he wasn’t in class but like, I haven’t seen him at all today. And I tried to go bug him just now but he shut me out.”

“Bakugou goes to bed early,” Iida continues.

“I know he does but like. I dunno. It’s different. It’s kinda reminding me of how he acted after Kamino.”

“I saw him earlier today, but just for a little bit,” Midoriya answers. “Todoroki was talking to him, then he told me to talk to Todoroki.”

“Why?”

“Um, I don’t actually know. Do you know, Todoroki?”

“I don’t know,” Todoroki answers from the floor, where he sits leaning against the couch Kirishima and Midoriya occupy. After a moment of silence, he adds in, “But it’s something bad.”

Kirishima straightens, couch springs straining beneath him. “What do you mean bad? What do you know?”

“He was with Fujimori.”

“Who’s Fujimori?” Kirishima asks. All eyes remain pinned on Todoroki, not a flash of recognition in anyone else’s face, not even Iida’s.

“He’s a U.A. lawyer.” Todoroki fidgets. “He’s… a specific kind of U.A. lawyer. I saw a lot of him, when I was very young. After Mom went away, I saw a lot of him, pretty much every day.” Subconsciously, Todoroki raises a hand to skim along the uneven skin of his left eye. “Dad was his client.”

“Oh, um, I met a couple U.A. lawyers after we rescued Eri.” Midoriya shoots a quick glance to Kirishima. “Me and Kirishima both. Bakugou’s doing a work study right now. Maybe it’s like… maybe something like Eri happened.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “You and Kirishima have not met Fujimori. Whatever U.A. lawyers you talked to, they weren’t Fujimori.”

“What makes you sure?”

Todoroki lingers in the silence. His lips part, but he says nothing immediately. He thinks long and hard on the words hanging behind his tongue. There’s a twitch along his mouth, some repressed fidget of hostility that comes slowly burning into his eyes.

“I’ve been told not to talk about Fujimori. My father has told me not to. But… I think I don’t care what my father told me.” Todoroki pushes off from the couch he is leaning on, settling toward the center of the carpet and turning in place, so that he completes a circle made of himself, Kirishima, Midoriya, and Iida. “I might still get in trouble with U.A.… But maybe I don’t care about that either.” Todoroki pauses. “Fujimori… Fujimori is a monster. Scum, the lowest and most disgusting sort of person humanity has to offer—no, not humanity. Calling human would be too generous. He’s a weapon, not a human.”

Midoriya scoots a fraction forward. His body leaks with uneasy tension. “And he’s… you said he’s someone who works for U.A.? U.A. hired him?”

“U.A. would be sunk without him,” Todoroki declares coldly. “And Fujimori… does not get involved lightly. And he would never be involved in the Eri mission, because U.A. wasn’t at fault for anything bad that happened there.”

“I…” Midoriya fidgets again, waxing uncomfortable. “I mean, um, not all the details of that mission were made public, you know. It um… that mission didn’t go as planned. I mean, I don’t… I’m not blameless, I think, for the things that went wrong.”

“Me neither,” Kirishima cuts in.

“Sir Night Eye—”

“I know Sir Night Eye died,” Todoroki responds, chillingly flat. His eyes appraise Midoriya once-over. “Did you kill Sir Night Eye?”

“No,” Midoriya answers. “Why would you even—”

“Then Fujimori was not your lawyer.”

Silence fills the room. A palpable dread sets in over them, like a blanket of fog, clammy and cold to the touch.

“What… do you think Bakugou did?” Iida asks.

“Something as bad as my father did to me and my mother,” Todoroki answers, and he does not hide the personal condemnation from his voice. “Or worse.”

…

Bakugou wakes at 6:15 am to another message from Fujimori. It requests Bakugou meet him outside once more. No dress code is specified.

Bakugou appears wearing the sweats he fell asleep in, leery eyes meeting Fujimori who stands along the same dew-swept section of street beside the U.A. dorms. Bakugou shifts furtive glances up and to the dorm windows, face racked with tension.

“People can see us from the windows,” Bakugou comments, curt.

“Does that worry you?”

“Yes. Todoroki knows you. Why the fuck does Todoroki know you?”

Fujimori lets out a good-humored chuckle. “Ah, Todoroki’s boy. Figures he may not be too fond of me.” Fujimori adjusts the suspenders digging into his shoulders. He is more casually dressed today. “Well then – here’s some excellent news for you: this will be very, very brief, so brief you don’t have to worry about being spotted with me.” Fujimori curls a smile, wide and self-satisfied on his flushed red face. “Would you like to hear another lick of good news?”

“What?”

Fujimori extends a hand, low and firm, an invite to be grasped and shaken. “All charges against you have been dropped. You’re a free man with a clean record, Katsuki Bakugou.”

Bakugou does not take Fujimori’s hand. He doesn’t so much as move. He feels as if the ringing in his ears is back. He feels again as if he’s misheard.

“…There hasn’t been a trial yet.”

“You’re right about that. We nipped it in the bud before it even reached that stage. That’s a fantastic development, because trials have their way of dragging their feet. For years, sometimes. You’re a fortunate young man.”

“How?”

“Hmm?”

“How did the charges get dropped?”

“Well I just compiled your case is all. Argued it before the district judge and the chief of police over a nice batch of chamomile tea I brewed early this morning, and they’re both exceptional, bright, reasonable men of conscience. Not one person in that room wanted to see a U.A. star’s future snuffed out before it could even begin.”

“I killed—”

“—And there’s a few weeks off, being offered to you too, courtesy of the U.A. President Nedzu himself. He wants you to take the time you need to heal from this trauma. There’s a therapist too, under U.A.’s direction, that we’d like you to meet with daily. Sorry, that part’s non-negotiable. But she’ll be good for you. You’ve been through a lot for a boy so young. Everyone just wants to see you succeed.” Fujimori steps closer, and he rests a heavy hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “And most importantly, the events from that day are under gag order. No word of this will ever reach anyone outside that precinct or outside U.A.”

“The villain…”

“Pardon?”

“What happens to him now? With his—with the—with what’s left of him. …What happens?”

“That’s not for people like you or me to worry about. You, especially, my boy. Just focus on the happy news.” Fujimori retracts his hand, and he lumbers back toward his car. There is no attendant this time. He opens the driver’s side door and glances back to Bakugou from overtop the car. “There will be a few more meetings in the coming weeks that you’ll have to attend with my colleagues, and a few more things for you to sign, and just a few attestations. But no one will ask anything difficult of you from here-on out. The hard part’s over. Quite luckily, this may be the last you see of me.”

Fujimori tips his hat once more, and disappears into his car with the tinted windows. It’s nice—the car. It’s exceptionally too nice, and too proper, and too clean for a man like Fujimori.

The engine revs. Fujimori vanishes along with the car at the next left turn.

Bakugou is left alone in the cold clammy morning air, with the sun wicking at the grass-top dew drops mingling with the cuffs of his pants.

Time restarts for Bakugou.

Now, and only now, Bakugou feels the passing wind against his cheek, and the wetness at his ankles, and the cadence of songbirds characterized by their punctuation through time. Time is moving fast again, with him in the stream, spinning dizzyingly forward.

Fujimori is right, this news is good news, Bakugou understands that. There’s a future in front of him again. A hero path ahead of him. He can carry on. He can graduate from U.A. He can become the #1 Hero. He can surpass All Might.

Bakugou’s memory stirs.

He is stricken with the image of two eyes looking back at him, gray and befuddled, panicked and unsure. They are eyes which belong to a head, a head with belongs to a body, all atop legs too scattered to know where to run. The image is a quivering bit of prey in front of him, cowed into a quaking revolting shell. It is a thing filled with regret at the sight of the rage it spurred from Bakugou by daring to slam Bakugou into the pavement first.

Bakugou remembers pulling the pin from his gauntlet. He remembers doing it with revelry. He remembers the sweet, nigh-intoxicating high, the euphoria that came with the sense of complete command, absolute control, unchecked power, the drive to win, to win, to win.

He remembers the lock and jolt to his shoulder, now. The eruption of searing heat. The explosion ringing in his ears. And the quaking, shivering thing of prey, in a moment of panic, darting directly into the blast, when all common sense dictated that it should have darted away.

Bakugou now remembers the blast erupting into black smoke, with a smell so wretched on its wind that Bakugou had buckled on spot. Bakugou now remembers the feeling -- suddenly greasy, suddenly unclean with the blowback of the blast, suddenly sticky dripping sapping wet with—

Bakugou remembers the torched wick of a torso – with full context now, he sees it. Suspended in time. Atop legs that should not stand.

Alone now in the cold morning air, alone outside the U.A. dorms, Bakugou buckles at the waist. He doubles over, falls forward like the image so seared into his mind. He moves forward in time with the dismembered legs, both his knees and its knees hitting the ground. Bakugou’s palms strike the dew-strewn lawn, his legs sink into the wetness. He holds himself up a moment, on arms too trembling to command, with a heartbeat too slammingly loud in his ears, and he loses his stomach contents into the grass below.

…

Bakugou is in class that same day. He does not take any of the offered leave, even when Nedzu appears at his dormitory door that morning at 7:30, even when Aizawa pulls him aside at the classroom entrance to ask, in as few specifics as possible, if Bakugou really intends to be here.

Bakugou confirms both times that he’s fine, and that he’s going to class, and that he doesn’t want them to mention anything to do with this ever again.

In class, he pretends to not see when Kirishima tries to catch his attention. He pretends not to feel the cold lick of malice from Todoroki’s eyes probing his back. Hardest of all, he pretends not to notice Midoriya’s pleading look, that detestable, abhorrent disarmed expression of weakness and worry so characteristic of him.

…

The partners are presumably random, but Bakugou stares on with disgusted certainty that Midoriya’s been intentionally assigned to him for sparring practice. Each pair of students has been spread about in sparring rings around Ground Beta, ample room given between each location, such that no quirks, and no voice, could carry between any two. Only the loudspeaker affixed to the Ground Beta building issues commands to each group.

The round starts.

Bakugou squares his feet, crouched slightly, hatred burning cold in his eyes. Midoriya meets his gaze, and squares his own feet, and raises his own hands. A silent few seconds of tense nothing passes between them. Bakugou’s gauntlet-less hands itch.

“Dodge!” Bakugou barks across the makeshift arena.

Midoriya loosens his footing a fraction, confusion crawling back into his face. “You haven’t attacked me yet.”

“Well get out of the way before I do!”

“If you attack me, then I’ll dodge.”

“Well you better! Because I’m telling you to dodge!”

Midoriya blinks. Bakugou remains rooted in place. In a split second, Midoriya has bounced from his spot. He winds back a kick, the shimmer of green iridescent veins spawning like stream rivulets down his thigh, down his leg. He closes the distance between them, and Bakugou only stares back wide-eyed as Midoriya’s shin connects with his jaw.

Bakugou stumbles, face smarting, a white-hot lick of rage exploding like a cannon from within his chest. The anger swamps his mind and drowns all thought and leaves him only with the livid, licking, untamable desire to fire back.

He thrusts a palm out, arm locked in tight at the elbow, immaculately drawing Midoriya into his line of attack. Midoriya’s eyes go wide, but he is still in the air, still falling, and won’t get the chance to course correct until he hits the ground. Bakugou has the shot.

Bakugou does not take it.

Time slips around him again. Leaving him behind, knocking him at the ankles, as if he is standing knee-deep in a stream to which he does not belong. The force threatens to make him stumble. He simply stands, hand extended, the promise of an explosion sputtering behind his palm.

Midoriya lands, and Bakugou has left himself wide open.

Midoriya doesn’t take his shot either.

“Do you want to… maybe call off the fight, Kacchan?”

“No! Attack me again!” Bakugou yells, hand thrown out harder, though nothing bursts on his palms.

“I…” Midoriya hesitates. He looks around, and he lets the rivulets of power bleed away from his arms and legs. He loosens his footing, stands taller, lets the tension ease out of his body. “You know, um… After we rescued Eri, I couldn’t really do much of anything for a few days. I couldn’t even use my quirk without having to focus way too hard on it.”

“I don’t care about your stupid mission. Attack me! Attack, you damn nerd!”

“Is it… something like that for you too, Kacchan? …Is it something worse?”

“Mind your own damn business! And get out of the way before I fire at you!”

“Todoroki isn’t being too kind with his guesses. …Kirishima refuses to believe what Todoroki has to say, if that makes you feel better. But I think I know you a bit better than Kirishima, actually, and I’m not sure what to believe.”

“What makes you think I give a single shit about what Icy-Hot thinks? Or what you think?”

“Are you allowed to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“…How bad is it? The thing that happened?”

“’How bad?’” Bakugou mocks. “Not at all! Zero! Nothing! Everything got resolved this morning. Nothing’s happening. There’s nothing more to it. You can tell that to Todoroki, and tell him he can keep his prying eyes the fuck off me cuz there’s nothing more for him to see. And you can fuck off for good measure too.”

“Everything got resolved… because of Fujimori?”

“We’re still fighting. Shut up and dodge! Attack! Do something!”

“Because – what Todoroki said – is that’s what Fujimori does. He makes problems go away. No matter what. By whatever means necessary. That he’s U.A.’s ace in the hole. That U.A.’s spotless track record – its perfect reputation – for decades…” Midoriya trails off. Bakugou falters at the sight of Midoriya wiping at his own cheek with the heel of his palm. “Stupid of me, huh, Kacchan?” Midoriya says with a bitter laugh. “I just assumed U.A. put out perfect heroes, all perfect heroes. That every pro from U.A. was like All Might. That every pro from U.A. just… could never do anything wrong. I idolized all of them. Every single one of them, for being perfect heroes. I thought Endeavor was a fluke… I wonder how many Endeavors U.A. has made?”

Bakugou lets out a strangled noise. He thrusts his right palm out with force, and he fires off a blast that lights and catches, erupting outward, hurdling toward Midoriya. Midoriya dodges it with hardly any effort, a simple step to the right and the blast does not so much as lick him. Midoriya doesn’t bother striking back just yet.

“What about you, Kacchan? …It wasn’t as bad as Endeavor, was it?”

“No—it—aggh! I told Icy-Hot it wasn’t even about me. My work-study—it’s just because my work study—”

“With Moonshot, yeah?” Deku curls a hand. He lets a wick of electric green static burst in his palm, which whips his hair with its ebb and flow. “Your work study is with Moonshot right now. Moonshot’s office is small. She only has herself and three sidekicks, and none of them are U.A. graduates. You’re the only person from U.A. working there.”

Deku strikes. His attack clips Bakugou’s left side. Bakugou bears it, not so much as a noise escaping his lips. He side-steps, ducks, and slams Midoriya beneath the ribcage with enough force to knock the wind from Midoriya’s lungs.

“You always think you’re helping, you damn fucking nerd. You’re not helping! You’re just prying into shit that doesn’t concern you. It’s over. It’s done with. And I can’t talk about it anyway! So shut up, before I make you shut up.”

Midoriya pulls in a few wheezing breathes. He coughs, and straightens, and speaks along a rasp.

“Actually… I don’t even think I’m trying to help, Kacchan. I want to help you. I always do. You know that. …But I’m afraid this might be something I can’t help with, or can’t bring myself to help you with, if Todoroki is right.”

“Icy-Hot knows nothing. He’s full of hot air and conspiracy theories, and it’s none of his business. Whatever he thinks happened is wrong, and he should shut the fuck up about it.”

“Are you sure he’s wrong… King Explosion Murder?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou’s palms crackle, and he squares his feet again. “Shut up and di--… Shut up and fight me.”

Bakugou doesn’t wait for a response. He throws himself right into the fray, with the one and only goal of firing his explosions off in quick enough succession to prevent Midoriya from getting another word in.

…

“Sensei! Sensei Sensei!”

Aizawa pauses at the sound of pounding mechanical feet hitting pavement, the rumble of vibrations shaking the ground, and fence, and rubble near Ground Beta. A wetness has stirred in the air, the threat of an impending thunderstorm.

“Iida, I was just coming to collect eve—”

“There’s a fight! Uh—well of course there are fights as this is a sparing match exercise but there is a fight which is not part of the designated sparing activity I mean! I’ve come to report an incident of student violence which I witnessed! I saw it happen and promptly came to find an authority figure and luckily you’re right here but I request you accompany me back to the meeting grounds where—”

“Who?”

“Bakugou, and—”

“Midoriya,” Aizawa concludes.

Iida shakes his head, frantic, spinning on spot and motioning Aizawa to follow as his suited legs take off once more. “Not Midoriya! Todoroki…”

Aizawa falters, and then he picks up his pace to match Iida. He steels himself, and it takes no longer than 20 seconds of threading through rubble for the two of them to round the corner, and enter the scene which had already announced itself with the rising cacophony of voices from 30 feet out.

With a split-second glance, Aizawa gleans three immediate pieces of information from the gaggle of 19 assembled students standing at the center of the training ground.

One, that Bakugou has been knocked down to the pavement, soles of his shoes, seat of his pants, and palms of his hands flat to the ground, left cheek split and leaking blood, with a creeping redness threatening to swell many times over in size across the breadth of the wound.

Two, that Midoriya has grasped Todoroki from behind, his arms looped up beneath Todoroki’s armpits and locked in place in a forceful attempt to restrain Todoroki, who’s lashing against the hold.

Three, that Todoroki’s right fist is split and bleeding, and he is staring down at Bakugou with the spark of murderous intent in his eyes.

“Tell me what you mean by ‘It’s been resolved’. It’s over? Meaning Fujimori already— What did you get away with? I think I know. I think I know what you did. So tell me I’m wrong. Tell me what that scumbag let you get away with.”

Bakugou says nothing. He raises his left hand to his cheek, pressing lightly. A heavy raindrop falls from above, landing with a patter on his cheek.

Todoroki pulls against Midoriya. “Answer me!”

“Todoroki!” Aizawa shouts. He marches forward, eyes alight with his quirk activation, though there is no need for it. Neither boy has used his quirk.

“This bastard’s been meeting with Fujimori.” Todoroki thrusts a hand out, index finger extended, sharp in its accusation as he turns bodily to Aizawa. “And whatever he did, he got off scot-free this morning! He’s bragging about it!”

“Todoroki. That’s enough.”

“He needs to tell us!” Todoroki challenges. A rumble of thunder affixes itself along the end of his words, as if chorusing agreement. “How can we be comfortable calling Bakugou a classmate until we know?”

“Midoriya, you can let him go. I’ve got this under control.” Aizawa’s eye flicker to Midoriya, who blinks, and hesitantly releases his arms from Todoroki.

Todoroki looks between Aizawa and Midoriya, his confidence wavering. “Sensei, you know who Fujimori is. You have to know who he is. You’ve been at U.A. long enough.”

“Yes, I know who Fujimori is. He’s a U.A. employee. Not a villain.”

“Then you don’t know who Fujimori is.” Todoroki counters. He thrusts both hands out. “He’s the reason my mom—he’s the reason my dad—he’s the reason I—” Todoroki catches himself all three times, unable to, or perhaps forbidden from saying more.

He backtracks, calms himself, a glint of desperation lighting in his eyes. Todoroki turns in place, bodily facing Bakugou once more. “Just defend yourself. Just tell me what happened. If you’re innocent then clear your name, and just tell us what Fujimori wanted with you! Why can’t you do that? Why?”

“Todoroki that is enough. This is not like you, and it is not acceptable,” Aizawa growls this time. He stalks forward, using himself as a means of separation between the boys, and he grips Todoroki by the shoulder. “I think you’re letting your personal feelings get in the way of common rationality. My office. With me. Now.”

Todoroki appraises Aizawa, and then his eyes go wide. A few more heavy drops leak from the blackened clouds above. They plick across Todoroki’s face, riding his expression, loosening with shock.

Todoroki opens his mouth, and the energy has been sapped from his words.

“…You know. You know what it is, don’t know? You’re part of this. You really are okay with this.”

“Not another word until we reach my office, Todoroki. If you defy me, I’ll consider it grounds for suspension.” Aizawa turns in place, and he surveys the rest of the class with deathly cold eyes. “Midoriya, Iida, take Bakugou to Recovery Girl’s office. Everyone else, get back to the dorm. I don’t want to hear a word about this by tomorrow morning, understood? The threat of suspension extends to all of you.”

There is a palpable unease in the air that rides along the rumble of the clouds. The rest of the students nod, Uraraka and Asui with a prick of tears at the corner of their eyes. Wordlessly, Iida extends a hand for Bakugou to grab, and lifts him from the ground.

Kirishima throws one last worried look in Bakugou’s direction as the skies fully open. The class is caught in the downpour, the scenery effaced by a thick sheet of heavy rain. The three boys vanish from view, and Kirishima raises an arm overtop his head for cover, and he joins the others headed back to the dorm.

…

Class begins wordlessly the next day. No one dares to mention it, but everyone has noticed Todoroki’s empty desk. The threat of suspension, of following in Todoroki’s footsteps, cows everyone into compliance. Bakugou sits stiff in his own seat, his insides too mangled, his dreams too riddled with his haunting memories playing on repeat to afford him more than a few moments of uninterrupted sleep the previous night. He feels full of cotton, his stomach in knots, his brain too much a hazy mess to make sense of what’s unfolded. His jaw has swollen, hot to the touch.

Aizawa enters, his face blank and tired. He shuffles a few papers and greets the class with a monotone Good morning. Most voices echo the greeting back, but quieter, mumbled. Only Iida seems to muster the energy for a proper greeting. The downpour from the previous day has lightened, but not vanished. It plicks against the muted gray windows, sealing in the atmosphere.

“The bin for your English essays is now on the front table. Present Mic says you may turn them in any time between now and Friday. Late submissions will not be accepted.” Aizawa shuffles the papers in his hands. “Also, we have another announcement.” Aizawa nods to the doorway. Faces turn.

Shinsou stands at the entrance, face drawn into a bit of a grimace. He rubs at his neck and looks away. “Um… Hi. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. Some of you already know me.”

No one answers him, because the class already knows Shinsou, and they’re all weary of what answering him may lead to. On a different day, friendliness might have won out over fear. Today, no one can muster the optimism.

“He’s transferring into 1-A starting today. Please extend a warm welcome.”

Silence beats around them. Iida manages a clipped greeting. A few more students nod. Bakugou watches it all unfold from his hazy fog.

Shinsou is no more lively in his acknowledgement of his introduction. He looks away, hoisting his bag on his shoulder, and shuffles down the aisle. He reaches Todoroki’s seat, and places his bag atop it, and sits down.

Midoriya’s chair screeches backward. He is standing, his face a mask of concern. “Uh, Sensei, Shinsou, um, that’s Todoroki’s desk. Todoroki sits there.”

“Todoroki has decided to transfer to Shiketsu High School, effective today,” Aizawa states simply. “Sit down, Midoriya, and raise your hand in the future if you wish to speak.”

Bakugou feels the ripple through the air. The potent unease. The prickle of disbelief that comes in just the form of a few slipped gasps, a few wide eyes swinging to Todoroki’s seat, and then swinging over to him, as if staring at him may reveal the answers they’re never allowed to know.

The haze in Bakugou’s brain won’t let him think. It’s made worse by his own shock, and his own disbelief, and his own gnawing discomfort in his gut when he looks over, and finds Todoroki absent from his seat.

It’s Kirishima’s pained eyes that he accidentally meets in the process.

“Bro… what’s happening?” Kirishima leans across the aisle. He speaks as quietly as he can for someone suppressing shock. “Please man, please just tell me it isn’t anything bad. Tell me Todoroki was wrong. Please dude. Please, I just gotta know you didn’t—”

“Kirishima!” Aizawa barks from the front of the room. Kirishima goes stock-still, spine stiff, head snapping forward to face the teacher. Aizawa turns to face the board, and he grabs a piece of chalk, snapped at the midpoint, and begins to write textbook page numbers on the board. “Not another word on the topic. I thought I made myself clear yesterday, or would you like to be an example?” Aizawa turns, and lifts an eyebrow in Kirishima’s direction. Kirishima, white in the face, shakes his head. “Good. I didn’t think so. Now be quiet. Class is starting.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #violence //#non-canon character death //#angst //#hello welcome to a bad idea that got worse.

738 notes · View notes

itsallyscorner · 4 years

Note

Ally!! could you write something from that video you reblogged of getting to know Tom before shooting a film with him! ♥️ You would write it so beautifully :) of course take care of yourself first but whenever you are ready!!

Thank you for requesting this love!!🥰 I was going to save it for last and do my requests in order, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about this request, so here I am! I hope you like it!!💜✨

💌.

Getting To Know You

This is long, I probably overdid it, but I hope you all enjoy!🥰

(GIF credits @thollandgifs )

You wander the halls of the studio, walking down long hallways, turning corners, and eyes scanning each sign on the doors of the rooms. You look back down to your phone, skimming through the email the costume department had sent you. Costume Design / Wardrobe — Room 220. Sighing, you glance at the door beside you, Production Design — Room 125. You mentally cursed at yourself for taking so long to get to the studio. You had just arrived in Cleveland, literally just that morning. After a lengthy flight to Cleveland, you were escorted to the house that you would be calling home for the next several months. There waiting for you was a rented car and the belongings that you had packed from home to be delivered to your rented house. Since the house was already decorated and furnished, there was no need in packing all your furniture from home, instead you shipped clothes you couldn’t fit in your luggage and other important belongings that would be difficult to bring onto a flight.

The moment you stepped foot into the house you didn’t bother looking around or going through the boxes that were stacked near the entrance. You made a quick trip to the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a majority of it. The house was spacious but not a hassle to get around, you peaked into a few rooms until you found the bedroom. Removing your shoes, you pulled back the neatly tucked comforter and climbed into the soft bed. Your eyes were already drooping the moment your head hit the pillow. Before sleep can consume you, you turned on an alarm on your phone about an hour and a half prior to the time you were expected to be at the studio.

You were used to traveling to new places due to your job as an actress. Renting out homes and cars for months on end was nothing new to you. Neither was figuring out your way around the new state or country you were currently living in. Though Cleveland was different; you had a GPS to tell you directions to the studio but you were still getting lost, making wrong turns and taking wrong lanes on the highway. Stopping by Starbucks for an iced coffee and croissant to fill you up didn’t help, instead it added on to your reason being late.

You were still roaming the halls with your head tilted down to stare at your phone. The stress from being behind schedule mixed with your sleep deprivation created a headache to pound in your head. Suddenly, your shoulder harshly knocks into something. You yelp, apologies already spilling from your lips as you continue your rush to the costume department—wherever it was.

“(Y/n)?” A familiar voice with an accent asks. Your shoes come to a halt on the carpeted floors of the studio. Your head whips back to see the warm brown eyes you were once staring into during that audition how many months ago.

“Tom!” You exclaim making your way back to him. You were taken aback by his appearance. The last you saw him he was buffer and had a head full of soft dark brown curls. His body was thinner, cheeks a bit more sunken in, and his curls were long gone replaced with a buzzcut. Though you should’ve expected his change in appearance, you guys were playing heroin addicts for crying out loud. You had also been put on a diet in preparation for your role as Emily, loosing a fair amount of weight yourself.

“Hey, you’re here! I didn’t know you were in Cleveland already. How long have you been here?” He asks, arms pulling you in for a friendly hug. You happily accept the gesture, hugging him back.

“Umm, I actually just got here this morning.” You answer once you both pull away. His eyes widen for a second, “And they already called you in? For fittings right?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d have a day to settle in but we’ve got a tight schedule. Filming starts soon—like in a month and a half?” Though filming didn’t start till the next month or so, the Russo brothers wanted both you and Tom to be in Cleveland a month earlier. This was to help with pre production preparations. It was also used to help you and Tom do research for your roles in Cherry and to get to know each other.

Tom looks at the wall with a raised brow, “Uhh, something like that, yeah.” His eyes flicker back to you, “Where are you off to?”

“To wardrobe, but I can’t find the place and I’m already running late.” You sigh.

“Well, lucky for you, I just came from there. I’ll take you.” He offers, raising his elbow out for you. You smile at him, looping your arm around his and quietly thank him. He leads you to the wardrobe department and drops you off; exchanging a quick joke with the ladies and another hug for you before leaving.

You remember the day you met Tom. You were called back from your audition to do a chemistry read with the lead role of Cherry, who at the time you didn’t know was Tom. Your nerves were at a high that day. You’ve made it so far into the audition process that you hoped your anxiousness wouldn’t get the best of you and mess it up. As an actor, you were used to meeting new faces all the time, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have anxiety when it comes to meeting new people. Questions wracked your brain. What if you didn’t have chemistry with the lead role? What if you did have chemistry but the lead role was a dick? Does your breath smell good? Are your clothes too casual? What if you have to kiss the lead role? What kind of scene were you guys doing?

All your questions and feelings of uneasiness were thrown out the window the moment you saw Tom’s friendly face. He greeted you as if you were long time friends. That sweet smile of his made the tension in your body at ease, it was kind and warm, like it was his silent way of comforting you after picking up on your nerves. Tom was a force in the room, his cheerful and optimistic energy radiating off of him and onto the other people in the room. Maybe that’s why you felt so comfortable to be around him during the chemistry read.

He was very welcoming, taking it upon himself to spark a conversation with you while the casting directors and producers prepared themselves for your chemistry read. You remembered the way he naturally leaned closer to you, bending down a few times to hear you, his eyes remaining on yours while you conversed, the both of you aware of each other’s presence. You weren’t going to lie to yourself; Tom was attractive. He had gorgeous brown eyes that you could never get tired of looking into, a charming smile, and a beautiful personality. He was easy to get along with. The chemistry read ended with smiles from everyone in the room. You remember thinking to yourself, if you were going to be casted, you wouldn’t mind being casted alongside him. Weeks of sitting around and patiently waiting, you get a call from the Russos saying you were casted as Emily.

Fittings only took an hour tops, most of the clothes were bought since there was no need in designing fancy or sparkly costumes. Before leaving the studio building, you had a quick meeting with the Russos. It was mostly about the basic stuff, the run down of the schedule, the filming process, preparations, etc. By the time you were done at the studio, the sun had set and the night sky took over Cleveland. You stopped by a fast food chain for dinner and took it to go. You drive home, eat your food, and your night ends there.

The next time you saw Tom wasn’t that long from when you saw him at the studio. He called you days later, asking if you would like to join him at the VA. As someone who had no experience with drugs or were surrounded by people who faced addictions; drugs was a new territory for you. Of course, you’ve heard about it and learned the basics of it at school, but you’ve never had to act like a heroin addict. Until now.

You drive to the VA on an early Thursday morning, this time not getting lost on your way to your destination. The air was chilly, the sky dark and cloudy after braving a storm. You park your car and send a text off to Tom saying you’ve arrived. You meet up at the entrance of the VA. He was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. His attire similar to yours, which made you chuckle to yourself. He greets you with a hug, his arms brining you warmth from the cool air.

“Hey, love.” His voice was deep, still fresh from sleep. You smile fondly at him. Though you first met him a few months back, reuniting a few days ago, the boy’s been growing on you.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me.” The two of you remain outside, hesitant to enter the VA. It daunted both you and Tom to face the veterans inside. The VA was a sacred place for them, you didn’t want to overstep boundaries or offend anyone with questions for research. They’ve suffered from PTSD or were recovering from substance abuse, some of them just starting out their recovery. You did not know what to expect or hear once you step foot into the building.

Tom’s feet shift against the pavement, his hands shoved into his pockets, “Yeah, it’s no problem. I just thought that—you know, since we’re the only two playing heroin addicts in the movie, I thought we could do this together.”

You smile reassuringly at him, “No, I get it. I honestly appreciate it, Tom, thank you.” You look around the area. It was a quiet place, not too many cars parked in the parking lot, a few trees scattered, and the building had a tan almost bland colored exterior. Your eyes drift back to Tom’s, which were already on you.

You gesture to the building with your head, “You ready to go in?” Tom nervously breaths in eyeing the building. You catch on to his hesitancy and place your hand on his arm.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous to talk to them, you know? I don’t want them to think I’m using their suffering as some kind of inspiration for this role.” He explains. You nod understanding, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same way, I don’t want to trespass on their privacy either. Wanna take a minute out here?”

“I think I’m good. How about you?” Tom composes himself. You flash him a tight smile nodding. Together, the two of you enter the VA, greeted by a receptionist who leads you both to a room.

You and Tom spend most of the day at the VA listening to the different stories of veterans who’ve suffered from PTSD and or substance/drug abuse. Some of them were very open and willing to share, telling you the hardships of their experience. Then there were those who were at the start of their recovery journey, a bit closed off, but were still willing to share nonetheless.

Tom watched as you listened to each veteran intently. Your eyes remained on them, your head nodding along, as you asked them questions or added some input to their stories. Unlike Tom, you seemed more composed and calmer than him. This was something he wasn’t used to, he wasn’t used to talking about drugs or military veterans and addiction. All of this talk was uncharted territory for him, it was dark and terrifying, something he never associated himself with. He was glad you agreed to come along because without you he wasn’t sure if he could do this all alone.

Tom would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some kind of attraction towards you. There was just some sense of comfort or tranquility that drew him to you. You had the brightest smile that lit up the room, sometimes he even found himself smiling because of it. He admired the way you greeted each veteran or former drug addict with a comforting smile and talked to them as if they were just a person, and not as someone who’s been suffering. You made the room feel like a safe space for them to share their experiences without feeling like they were being judged.

Tom was quiet for the most part, asking questions when he felt they were necessary or when something peaked his interest. He added a few comments here and there but for most of the time he listened. He listened to the horrifying and heartbreaking experiences of each veteran. There was a point in the interviews where it dawned on Tom that he was going to have to portray what these veterans went through. From the traumas of war, through the struggles of PTSD, to the excessive use of drugs and alcohol—Tom became reluctant in becoming Cherry. Was he really ready to become a heroin addict? Was he mentally prepared to shred himself and be in the mindset of something so ruinous?

From time to time you glanced over at Tom, checking if he was alright. At the start he was a bit fidgety, his leg bouncing and fingers fumbling with each other. His questions came out stuttered but by the middle of the interviews he grew comfortable in the room. Once in a while you would ask him how he was and he would answer with a small nod and an assuring smile. He then would reciprocate the question with a whisper leaning closer for only you to hear.

By the time the last veteran walked out, Tom felt a responsibility to give these people justice. To not only tell their stories and of other veterans around the world, but to bring awareness to the things that they’ve faced. Not only Tom felt that but so did you. These people have opened up to you guys about the darkest and lowest points in their lives, the best way you can both thank them would have to be by portraying your roles as accurate and realistic as possible.

There was a stillness in the room; it was quiet. The only sounds being heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall beside you and the distant sound of cars driving by. Tom was the first to speak, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Your brows knitted together, put off by his random comment. “Why’s that?”

Tom shrugs, taking a breath in and turning in his seat to face you, “I couldn’t have done these interviews alone. From trying to make them feel comfortable and asking all these questions, I would’ve felt so overwhelmed. So, thank you.”

Your mouth curves into a small smile, “Give yourself some credit. I couldn’t have done this without you either. I can’t imagine doing these interviews alone, I wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of all those stories by myself.”

Moments later the two of you finish your time at the VA. You walk towards your car, which was nearest to the building. “This is me.” You gesture to your car.

Tom nods in response. After all the stories he’s heard, he didn’t want to be alone. Sure, he has Harry back at his place, but it just wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t understand what was going through Tom’s head. Tom hesitates to ask you if you want to hang out, but after a quick mental argument against himself, he pushes himself to ask, “Um, what are you doing after this?”

You unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll probably stop by Whole Foods or something. I need to fill up my fridge and pick up some stuff at Target that I might need.” You lean against the frame of your car. “Why?”

“Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something—it’s totally fine, since you’re busy and all.” Tom stutters out as he waved his hand at you. He was a bit disappointed that you were busy, besides not wanting to be by himself, he really wanted to spend time with you. You guys were friendly, but he wanted to get to know you more.

“Hey! If you want, you could come along? I could use the company.” You suggest, lips curving to a half smile. You gesture to his arms and jokingly say, “I could also use a pair of strong arms to help me.”

Tom bashfully chuckles, “I’d like that.” He turns to where his car was parked and motions to it over his shoulder. “I brought my car, so I guess I’ll just follow you there?”

“Yeah, I’ll just, I’ll text you the location.” You hold your phone up.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” Tom confirms and pulls you into a hug. You giggle at how affectionate he can be. You were gonna see him again in just a few minutes; the drive to Whole Foods wasn’t that long.

Tom parks his car besides yours in the Whole Foods parking lot. You both lock up your vehicles and make your way into the market. On the way, Tom grabs a shopping cart for you. You try to steal it away from him, but he insists on pushing the cart the entire time. You take out your list on your phone and navigate your way through the aisles of Whole Foods. While you throw things into the cart, you and Tom converse. The both of you share some basic information, like things about your hometowns, your families and friends, just the general stuff. You guys were talking about pets when you reached cereal aisle.

“I had a Yorkie when I was growing up, he was the sweetest little thing. He sadly passed because of a heart attack.” You reminisced as you scanned the shelves for your preferred cereal brand. Your hand held onto the cart that Tom pushed with his elbows, as he leaned his entire weight onto the cart.

Tom frowned at the mention of your dog, “I’m sorry.” You give him a look, wordlessly telling him that you were ok and have moved on. “So, did you get to bring Tessa to Cleveland?”

“Nope, she’s not too fond of flights, so I don’t put her through the struggle of getting on a plane.” You find your cereal and try to reach for it, “Aww, I would’ve wanted to meet her. From what you told me, she sounds like a sweetheart.”

Tom chuckles at you before coming from behind the cart and helping you get the cereal down. You look at him with a sheepish grin, “I had that, but thank you.”

Tom squints his eyes playfully at you, “Did you really? Because you looked like you were struggling a bit?”

“No, I was stretching.” You quip back eyes twinkling with amusement. You place the box in the cart and drag the cart. Tom chuckles returning to the front of the cart and pushes it. You look back at him, “You wanna have dinner at my place? I could make a pretty good pizza.”

“Is that so? I guess I might have to try it for myself, I’m in.” He agrees. The two of you finish up at Whole Foods. The cart was overflowing with brown bags when you and Tom walked back to your cars. Always the gentleman, Tom helps you put all your bags into your car’s trunk and even takes back the cart to the designated area that stored them. You split off into your separate cars and stop by Target before you go home. Going to Target with Tom was probably one of the most chaotic and hilarious things you’ve ever done. It took you about two hours in Target just to get what you were looking for. Most of the time in the store was you and Tom looking at children’s toys, making fun of weird costumes you found, and finding meaningless shit to buy because why not? You never thought Tom could be a dumbass until you saw him try to bounce a ball onto the floor and make it land onto his head.

“Tom, we’re gonna get in trouble.” You warn him, looking around to see if anyone were looking at you guys. You spot a camera a few feet away but it was nowhere close to you both.

“Don’t worry darling, we won’t. I got you, trust me.” He assures you as he gets himself into position. You shake your head at him while you sip on the coffee you got from Starbucks.

“Wait, so what are you doing again?” You ask.

“I’m going to try and get the ball on my head.” He answers clearly distracted. He digs his sneakers into the floor and prepares himself to bounce the ball. “You ready, darling?”

“No, but go ahead.”

It all happened so quick. Tom being the dumbass he was, underestimated the amount of force he put onto the ball. Instead of the ball bouncing a few feet into the air, it bounces into the next aisle and the next thing you both know you hear a *boing* and a baby crying. You and Tom look at each other with wide eyes. He rushes over to you and helps you maneuver the cart away from the sports section. You’re caged in by his arms, in between the cart and his chest as you both quietly giggle to yourselves.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.” You tell him through more fits of giggles.

The two of you are now in your rented house. You work together in the kitchen, working as a team to figure out the recipe for the pizza dough. Tom is beside you, looking over your shoulder while you both read through the Food Network recipe on your phone.

“Ok, we did all of that. So now we knead the dough, toss it into a bowl and let it rise. Then we could roll it in a little bit.” You read turning your phone off and looking at Tom. He nods and takes the dough out. You sprinkle flour onto your counter and onto the dough as Tom volunteers to knead the pizza dough.

Tom’s Spotify playlist plays lowly in the background. You were both quiet, basking in the comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Weirdly enough, there was never an awkward moment with Tom. He could say the same thing for you.

You try to avoid the way his arms flex and how his veins pop out as he massages the dough. You glance at his buzzcut hair and ask, “Do you think your hair will grow back by the time you shoot Spider-Man three? Or are we going to have a bald Peter Parker?”

He stops his motions and looks at you shocked, “You’ve watched my Spider-Man movies?”

“Of course I have! I’m a big Marvel fan, my whole family actually is, especially my nephew. We love your version of Spidey—well except my dad and his brother, but besides them we love your version.” You explain. You see a smile twitch onto his lips as he continues his task.

“Wow, thanks. I never thought you’d watch my movies.” Through the warm lights of your kitchen, you see a blush spread onto his cheeks.

“What do you mean?”

Tom stops massaging the pizza dough and looks at you, “Well I’ve—wow this is embarrassing—but I’ve always kinda been a fan of your work. My brothers and I always watch your movies, and they never disappoint us. You’re just amazing! And now I get to work with you, and I’m not going to lie I’m still a bit starstruck, but it’s literally an honor to work with you.”

You look at him taken aback by his confession. You shake yourself out of your shock, “Well I guess that makes the two of us because you still make me a bit starstruck whenever I see you too.”

From that night on, you and Tom always hung out. Whether it be at your house or his, you both managed to spend the entire day together. Sometimes you’d both stay way too late at each other’s house, that you ended up having sleepovers. You guys would still have weekly visits to the VA, doing more research and meeting more veterans. To lighten the mood after, you and Tom would go to Target, get a bunch of junk food and knickknacks, then go to one of your places to watch a movie. The two of you have even explored Cleveland on your own with Harry tagging along once in a while. When Tom found out you were going to be living alone during the duration of filming, he offered that you could stay with him and Harry. Though you didn’t want to intrude on their privacy, both Holland brothers insisted that you live with them. You were still debating on their offer, but you were still spending most of your nights with them anyway.

It was one of those nights again but it was different. Today was the last free day you both had before filming began. It was different because you haven’t portrayed the deeply flawed characters you were both casted as. You and Tom spent the morning at the studio along with the Russos and the rest of the cast doing a table read of the entire movie. Reading and listening to the entire movie out loud made you anxious for the day to come. You were scared that not only you, but Tom, might go down a spiral of darkness throughout the process of this film. Cherry was something new for both of you. Neither of you have worked on a project as cataclysmic or dreadful as Cherry.

You were quitely sat on Tom’s couch staring at the sun setting through his windows. Tom was in the kitchen making the both of you cups of tea to warm you up from the harsh cool air of Cleveland. Harry was in his room, telling you and Tom that he was going to take a nap and to not worry about him. Tom watched you from the kitchen. The sun’s golden rays reflected on your skin, giving it a glow. Your brows were furrowed as you seemed to be deep in thought.

“Wanna sit on the patio and see the sunset from outside?” Tom comes up behind you with a half smile on his lips. You happily nod and take his hand to get off the couch. He slings his arm around you and hands you your jacket. He tells you to go out first and that he’ll meet you outside with the tea.

You sit on the steps of his patio, watching the sky change from shades of blue to a mix of orange, pink, and purple. You hear the door open and footsteps against the wood of the floors. You look up to see Tom holding two cups of tea with a fluffy blanket over his shoulder. A beanie was now on his head and a jumper was pulled over his shirt.

You thank him as he hands you your cup. Tom settles beside you, placing his cup on the steps and began to open up the blanket.

“Why do you have a blanket?” You ask him. He untangles the blanket and puts it over his shoulders, his arm wraps around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“To keep us warm.” He answers while he reaches for his cup. “I tried to find another blanket, but I think Harry took it.”

You brush his comment off, “It’s fine, I like this better.”

A peaceful silence lays upon the two of you as your eyes stare at the sky and your lips sip onto the cup. Tom’s arm remains around you as his fingers draw random patterns onto your arm. Tom was the first to break the silence.

“How do you feel about filming starting tomorrow?” He asks you quietly. Your eyes shift to the tea in your cup.

“Honestly? I’m a bit nervous, especially since we’re starting off with the heroin addiction parts. I don’t know how to feel about it.” You answer.

Tom hums, “I know what you mean. I’m pretty scared too.” Your eyes remove themselves from your cup to look up at Tom.

“Why are you scared?”

“I just—it scares me that all the acting and trying to be in the mindset of Nico might actually affect me. Like maybe by the end of this film, he’ll be a part of me.” He admits, his teeth gritting against each other. You look at him sympathetically. He was truly going through a war in his mind; just by the way he was glaring at the sky and how his fingers stopped drawing on your arm and instead gripped it. It was like he was looking for leverage to stop himself from falling down a loophole of possible outcomes of the end of this movie.

Your hand grasps his hand on your shoulder, catching his attention. His deep brown eyes connect with yours, “You’re not going to turn into Nico, Tom.”

“How do you know that? What if the more I act like him the more I turn into him? (Y/n), what if I get so lost into the character that I eventually loose myself in the process? What do I do when that happens?” He began to ramble, questions spilling from his tongue as he looked at you pleadingly.

You shake your head and squeeze his hand, “It’s not going to happen Tom. You wanna know how I know why?” Tom shakes his head.

“Because we’ll have each other’s backs. I’ll be there right beside you. If you ever feel like you’re spiraling down too deep as Nico, I’ll be there to get you out. You don’t have to go through all of that alone, Tom. I’ll be here for you, you could trust me.” You promise him. Tom’s mind seems to stop racing as his eyes gaze into yours. He finds nothing but honesty in them. You feel his hand fumble with yours before he interlocks them together.

“What if it gets really ugly?”

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable honey, especially around me, I won’t judge. I’ll still be there for you. ” You reassure him. You try to lighten up the mood by bumping your shoulder against his. “Plus, we’re actors, vulnerable is our middle name. How do you think Leo finally got an Oscar?” You joke. The frown on Tom’s face breaks as he stifles a laugh. You smile at the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, he was happy.

Your laughter dies down and you’re staring at him again, “But seriously, Tom. I’ll be here for you whether you like it or not, nobody should have to go through the mental capacity of a heroin addict by themselves.”

Tom nods, “Thank you. I can’t imagine anyone else in my corner but you while we film this. You’ve honestly been such a godsend and we haven’t even started filming yet. Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me.” He smiles fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pulling you into a hug. You hum in response and place your head in the crook of his neck, “You don’t have to thank me.”

Silence once again consumes the both of you. The birds chirp in the distance and the sky has now turned a dark purple. “You can count on me too. I’ll be there for you.” Tom whispers against your hair. You silently thank him, snuggling closer to his warm embrace. The fears of tomorrow slowly fade from your bodies as you watch the darkness consume the light in the sky.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shot #tom holland drabble #tom holland headcanon #tom holland fanfiction #Cherry #ally’s request #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #peter parker imagine #Tom Holland fluff

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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A Little Braver - 23

Here we are... the fluff is finally here and Rowan is back.

Enjoy the chapter.

6 months later

The months and seasons had slowly turned and autumn in Terrasen was in full swing with the trees now having lost of all of their leaves and the days turning chilly and October had brought with it all the smells of the season.

Rowan got out of the airbase and looked up at the sky and he could smell snow in the air. His favourite type of weather. He breathed in deeply and enjoyed for a second the feeling of being on land once again after months on a ship. This last deployment had taken a toll on the whole squadron and all of his team members had plans of enjoying their well deserved time off.

“Rowan!” A voice called him and he turned seeing Gavriel coming his way “need a lift somewhere?”

“I was going to call a taxi.”

“Come, I’ll drive you to the fire station.” The man said, knowing full well where Rowan was headed.

Rowan nodded and thanked him. Aelin had told him she was coming off shift around noon. It was eleven and he had some time.

“Are you looking forward seeing Aelin again?” Asked Gavriel once in the car.

“Yes, I have missed her like crazy.”

The man at his side chuckled “you never missed Lyria this much. Never spent so much time on your phone either calling her or texting her.”

Rowan sighed “Aelin is different.”

Gavriel nodded “you found a great one. Truly.”

Gavriel had never been a fan of Lyria either. And the more he thought about it the more he realised that a lot of people have never been keen on his ex wife. No one ever believed she was actually in love with him, but his friends now were fully supporting him with Aelin. Maybe this was how it was actually meant to go.

While he was wool-gathering they had arrived at the fire station and Gav had parked beside the pavement to let him out.

“Have fun you two.”

“Have a nice time off too, my friend.”

Rowan grabbed his duffel bag and turned to the yard. The doors to the apparatus floor were closed. He peeked through the glass and spotted engine and truck. Good, they were in. Now he had to try and make it a surprise.

A moment later he spotted Luca coming out of the main communal area and grabbed his arm “shhh Luca, it’s me.”

The young man turned and smiled deeply when he recognised him.

“Can you please ask Aelin if she can come out here? Invent an excuse, please.” The boy grinned and nodded in understanding “welcome back, captain. She missed you.”

“I missed her too.” He admitted while adjusting his uniform.

At that Luca walked out and Rowan bravely climbed on top of the engine. Dropped his bag and lay low until he heard her voice.

“Luca, what is it? Is there something wrong with the rigs?”

Rowan kept silent and hid a bit better but with his height it was difficult. He also felt the crazy urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

His legs hit the rail and he noticed her turn around looking for the origin of the sound.

“Come out. Show your face. I can kick your arse.”

He grinned and sat on the rig with his legs swinging from the edge while she had her back at him “Is that so, captain?”

He saw her turn and her expression morphed in the smile he adored. Being apart from her had been hell. He had no true idea how mad he was about her until he was forced to spend six months away from Aelin. The thought that he still had four years of that, made him want to scream.

Aelin gasped as she noticed Rowan sitting on top of the fire engine “you are back.” She said softly and Rowan nodded and heard her sniffle “you are truly back.” Aelin could not believe her eyes and for a moment she thought she had fallen asleep and it was all a dream.

“Come up here and see it for yourself.”

Aelin moved as if in a daze, slowly climbed the ladder and once at the top his strong arms pulled her to him and they fell into a heap on top of the hoses.

“Hey you…” he said as Aelin lay on top of him. Her blue eyes fixed on him.

“Hey you…” she replied burying her face in the crook of his neck to inhale the scent of him. He was home, he was back. He was real. Rowan’s arms wound around her in a tight hug “you have no idea how much I missed you. Since they told us when we were coming back I have been counting the days that I still had to spend away from you.”

Aelin did not reply she just melted in his embrace “you have been away from me 192 days and 20 hrs.” She said softly against his neck. She had counted each single day and the more they accumulated, the more she longed for the moment she could hug him and kiss him again.

“It felt like an eternity.”

Rowan turned his face and finally met her gaze and his eyes dropped to her lips and she must have noticed his stare because she looked up at him and kissed him.

The taste of her lips was enough to cancel all the longing of those months apart. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing her lips until she opened for him and a moan escaped Rowan’s mouth as tongues clashed and she moved fully on top of him.

“Aelin…” he said against her lips.

“I know, we are on top of the engine and I know how paranoid you are. Let’s just make out for a while, then once I am off shift we can go home and indulge in more private activities.”

They made out heavily for a good half an hour, then they finally came up for breath. With his hand Rowan pulled back a strand of hair from her face then flipped her nose feeling desperate for contact with her even if they were almost glued together.

“You seem tired.”

Her head thumped on his chest “long and busy shift.”

“Looks like someone needs some heavy cuddling tonight.”

She stared at him and grinned “always. And a back rub.”

“Something else?”

Her grin became wicked “of course, but later.”

She had so much to tell him but she would do it once they were back at home. On top of a fire engine was not ideal.

“I thought you were going to bring Lorcan too.”

“He will meet with Elide later I think. He always has a lot to do after we come back from a mission. But he will see her. The man has been pining like crazy.”

Aelin laughed “honestly? I can’t believe it.”

“Hey I was there and I couldn’t believe it.”

Aelin sat up “come on, let’s go and say hi to the others.”

“No,” he pulled her down back to him and squeezed her.

She brushed his hair and he closed his eyes and he almost purred in delight. Aelin smiled. Iceman, the man who seemed incapable of showing emotions was addicted to cuddling.

They stayed on top of the rig until Aelin heard Peter’s voice and second team arriving.

“Come on, buzzard, second team is here which means it’s time for us to go home.”

Swiftly she made her way down and Rowan followed.

“Hi Pete!” She greeted him happily.

The man looked behind her back “welcome back, sir.”

Rowan turned red at being caught sneaking down the engine but the other captain did not seem bothered.

“Thank you. It’s nice to be back.”

In that instant her whole team poured out in the main area and spotted Rowan behind her.

“Oh, that’s why she never got back.” Said Brullo.

“Yes, yes, the captain and I were cuddling on top of the rig. Now go home and relax.”

Lysandra moved closer to her ear “go and get some, girl. Just don’t make me an aunt yet.”

Aelin laughed “promise.”

The team walked out and Aelin grabbed Rowan’s hand “let me get out of this uniform.”

They reached the changing rooms and it was full of the guys from the second team. She went to her locker and opened the door and disappeared behind it.

“How was the night, cap?”

“Long,” she said, popping her head from behind the door “it seemed like the whole of east Orynth needed us last night.” She saw Rowan on the doorstep and smiled at him while wearing a polo shirt and then a hoodie “oh yeah we had to evacuate a couple who got stuck in an elevator.” And she grinned at Rowan “and by the time we got to open the trap they had decided to pass the time in an interesting way.”

“No bloody way,” commented Peter from his corner.

“The idiots,” she slammed the locker closed “I’ll see you all in a day.” She grabbed her bag and joined Rowan who was waiting for her. He pulled his arm around her shoulder “do you always change with the guys around?”

“Are you jealous?” he did not reply.

“Ro,” she stopped “they are not interested in me. And if I have to strip naked for my shower I’ll do it in private. But if they see me in my knickers and bra, what’s the difference with strangers seeing me in a bathing suit?” She replied “and as you saw I wear sports bra and comfy knickers for work. The sexy stuff is just for you.”

“I guess that firefighting with a thong is not recommended.”

Aelin laughed and they got to the car “jump in, buzzard.”

Before going home they stopped at the supermarket and Aelin explained she had nothing in the house and Rowan rolled his eyes muttering something about her diet.

At the supermarket she went to get a hand held basket but Rowan pulled her towards the bigger trolleys telling her that they needed to do a big shopping since he was back and was going to cook.

Once inside, Rowan offered to push the trolley and Aelin just grabbed his arm and walked at his side, happy at the domestic scene. They were shopping together and he had not mentioned his flat. Maybe she was worrying about nothing about asking to make it official and move in with her.

“Why are you buying all these veggies?” She asked him as he stopped at the vegetables and fruit aisle.

“To cook.” He stooped for a kiss “and stop complaining.”

They kept walking around the supermarket and Aelin saw the trolley getting fuller and fuller. It looked as if Rowan had every intention of keeping her well fed. Not that she complained.

An hour later they finally made it to the checkout. Rowan told her to put the groceries on the belt while he packed and she giggled at the military precision with which he packed.

She paid for the shopping and he carried the bags back to the car.

“We should have a budget for groceries. This one was big because you have nothing in the house.”

“Make sure the budget allows for chocolate expenses.”

“We’ll see.”

They got back in the car and not long after they were finally back at home.

Once inside, Rowan dropped the bags on the kitchen island and started unpacking straight away.

Aelin dropped his bag in the bedroom and joined him in the kitchen with bird Rowan in her arms “someone else wants to say hi.”

Rowan smiled “it’s actually quite nice. It looked lovely online.”

Aelin hugged the toy “he is so soft.”

“Come on, help me unpack.” She put bird Rowan back in the bedroom and went back to the kitchen and together they methodically unpacked the groceries ready to feed a family of five.

Slowly she watched her fridge become full again, something she hadn’t seen in six months.

“Now, let me take a shower, get changed and I’ll make lunch.” He kissed her softly and Aelin purred.

“A quick shower. If you come in as well we’ll never have lunch.”

“Spoilsport.” She turned but Rowan grabbed her arms and pulled her to his chest, his arm around her waist and his mouth on her neck trailing hot kisses along its length. Aelin threw her head back, but Rowan pulled back “fun times later. Food first.”

Aelin groaned in silence at the loss of contact with his body.

When he came back from his quick shower he found her on their bed with her huge hockey jersey and a pair of shorts, barely visible under the huge item of clothing. His eyes landed on her long legs and until that moment he had not fully realised how desperately he needed her. But lunch was a priority and he could not get distracted.

“Come on young lady, let’s go and get you fed.” He offered her a hand and Aelin climbed down the bed and they got to the kitchen.

Aelin sat on the counter and studied him while he set out all of the ingredients and started prepping them.

Then she decided to be brave and pose the question “Ro, do you want to move in with me? As in officially?”

Rowan looked at her perplexed “I thought that’s what we were doing? Living together?”

“Are we though? We never talked about it. You just stayed here after the accident.”

“So?” He asked while slicing the carrots.

“You still have your flat and some stuff there. And I understand if you want to keep your place for yourself to have a moment away from me if it gets too much. I know I am an handful.”

Rowan threw the veggies in the pan and then moved to her.

“Rowan the hob.” She ordered him. Her firefighter paranoia kicking in.

He switched off the gas and moved to her, between her legs and gently took her face in his hands “I only kept my flat in case you got fed up with me and threw me out. I don’t need it. I can sell it.” His hand brushed her hair “I thought I threw you enough hints that I was not moving out. Yes, you are a handful but I love living with you.”

Her arms went around his neck “so we are doing it.” Rowan nodded and kissed her “I can bring all my stuff here in the next few days.”

“I have a spare bedroom, dump your stuff in there.” She grinned and her legs went around his back and kissed him in a dangerous way, but he pulled back.

“Lunch?”

“I am famished.”

“Then let me cook.”

She smiled and swinged her legs happily. She could not believe it. She and Rowan had been together officially for around nine months but only spent three of those together and they were now officially shacking up. She was excited and for some strange reason it felt normal. With Sam it had taken much longer. They had been dating for over a year before she asked him. But with Rowan had felt natural, probably because of how their living situation had started.

“Now, this is how a stir fry looks like.”

“Still too many veggies.”

“Menace.”

Aelin grinned and stole a piece of chicken from the pan. His food tasted so much better than her mess.

Eventually they finished dinner and ended up on the sofa, Aelin all cosied up against him mentally getting ready to tell him everything that had happened while he was away.

“Ro,” she said softly, holding him “I have to tell you something.”

He looked down to her and her tone scared him.

“What, Fireheart?”

Aelin loosened a breath “while you were away a lot of stuff happened. Bad stuff.”

She felt him stiffen “how bad?”

And Aelin told him. About Hamel, her working with the police. Being assaulted in the house, Aedion being shot and the wedding postponed. Her going undercover and almost getting killed again before the detectives shot Hamel. About Hamel being the cause of Sam and Thomas’ deaths.”

Rowan stood abruptly and started pacing in the living room. His expression difficult to read. Rowan paced a bit more and a few times it seemed like he wanted to say something but then stopped. There was rage in him.”A guy, a stranger was in our house and tried to kill you. Hamel’s men tried to kill Aedion and you, not happy of all this, just went and played cop and almost got killed again?” He was not raising his voice but Aelin knew, he was furious. He paced around the coffee table “Rutting hell, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Aelin was taken aback by the harshness of his words “why you didn’t tell me?” His tone angry. His hand nervously ran through his hair. For a brief second he even stopped his pacing but never looked at Aelin in the eyes.

“You were away. How could I?” She stood in front of him “if I had told you, you would have worried and not concentrated on your job and risked getting killed. And I could not have that. I…” she felt tears stinging her eyes “I can’t lose you.”

“What if I lost you?” He shouted back at her, giving his back to Aelin “I can’t lose you either. And I almost did. Twice.” He walked out on the balcony and Aelin let him go and went back to the bedroom and curled on the bed hugging bird Rowan. And cried.

Rowan leaned against the rail of the balcony and stared at the lights of the city slowly coming alive as darkness fell. He was furious, but not at her. He was mad at fate who gave him a woman to love once again and did its best to take her from him. In an instant all his fears, all his doubts and his reasons for not getting involved again had come back. He took his head in his hands and the weak part in him told him to bail. To ignore that just earlier they had taken an extra step in their relationship and just get out of there. Go back being alone and cold. It was far easier.

Except it was not.

He turned to the house and looked at the bedroom. Aelin was curled in bed. He could not leave her. No matter the fears, he could not give up on her, not when she brought him happiness and gave him again the will to feel. He could not go back to a life of ice, pain and guilt. So he did the only thing he could do. He walked back to their bedroom.

She was all curled up and hugging the bird he gave her.

He climbed in bed with her and pulled her closer but Aelin turned and faced him, her eyes all puffy.

“I am sorry, I am a jerk.” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face and drying her tears with the back of his hand “I haven’t seen you in six months and all I can do is shout at you.” He kissed her once “I am not mad at you. Yes, you are reckless but I am more mad at what happened.” He hugged Aelin and drew her closer “I can’t stand the idea that you had to go through all this. And Sam…”

Aelin buried her face in his neck “I am better. Lys and the guys kept me from breaking down. Without them I don’t know…”

Rowan sighed “I should have been here. It looks like I haven’t learned from my past.” At the deep anguish in his voice, Aelin grabbed his face and kissed him deeply.

“You make me stupidly happy.” He told her, a hand brushing her head “and no matter how scared I am of your job or of what the future holds for us, I am not letting you go.” But she sensed unease in his voice.

She sniffled “you are still a bit mad at me.”

Rowan shook his head “no, not at you. At a lot of things, yes. But not mad at you.” His forehead brushed hers “I was overwhelmed and I overreacted. I am glad you did not tell me.” His nose bumped hers “you are right I would have been worried sick and not being able to concentrate and in our line of jobs is a deadly thing.”

Aelin nodded and kissed him gently “thank you for coming back to me.” She whispered against his lips.

“I made you a promise.” His hand sneaked under her shirt, caressing the length of her back. Aelin rolled on her back and pulled her jersey off, remaining only in her shorts. Rowan’s gaze became lustful and she pulled him down to her for a heated kiss. Rowan reached for the back of his t-shirt and pulled it off and discarded it on the floor and then moved on top of her, caging her head between his arms. Aelin took in the expanse of his chest with her hands, then followed the lines of his tattoo with her fingers.

“I missed this so much,” he whispered as his head ducked in the crook of her neck.

“Definitely better than on the phone,”Aelin joked pulling him down to her completely, skin touching. His mouth trailed south leaving scorching kisses on her collarbone and then down to her breasts. Aelin’s back arched on instinct and in response Rowan took one of her hard peaks in his mouth and Aelin moaned, fingers burying in his back and leaving gentle moon-shaped marks.

Aelin rocked her hips for friction and she felt Rowan grin “so impatient.”

“I need you…” she breathed “we can have all the foreplay in the second run, but not now…”

His mouth bit lightly on her neck then his hand slid down until it hit the band of her shorts and knickers “so I guess you don’t need these…” and in a swift motion she was bare in front of him.

“Well, if I am naked, so do you, captain.” Rowan smiled and peeled off his briefs. He leaned back down and her legs wrapped around him and she pulled him much closer until she felt him nudge her near where she desperately needed him.

“I love you,” he whispered and after months apart they met again.

Aelin was sitting against the head of the bed and Rowan’s head was in her lap while her fingers played gently with his hair “do you know how to ice skate?” She asked him.

“A bit, why?”

“They opened an ice rink down in the main square and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. It’s been a long time since I did it.” He turned on his back and looked up “I’d love to. Want to go tonight?”

Aelin nodded “can we have dinner out as well? Have a proper date?”

“Are you asking me out, captain?” Rowan smiled and stretched his arm to caress her cheek.

“Well, it’s my right as well to woo my boyfriend.”

Rowan smiled and sat back up and went to kiss her “I am yours.”

“What time does your shift starts tomorrow?”

“At ten and it’s my usual 24hrs shift.” She told him.

“We should not stay out too long. You came off another night shift this morning and never slept. I need to tuck you in in bed early.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rowan got off the bed and stood, holding out his hand to her “come on, miss firefighter, let’s get you ice skating.”

Aelin beamed in joy and got off the bed and went to put some clothes on. A polo shirt and her favourite TFD hoodie. Then she moved to the bird toy and got her dog tags from it.

“Make sure you have a nice layer on, it’s getting colder outside.” He pulled a scarf around her neck “forecast says it might snow.”

Aelin groaned “I love winter, but snow always causes so many accidents.” Then she realised what she said “I am sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He stooped to kiss her “it’s okay. I am fine.”

She smiled back at him, “let’s go skating, captain.”

Hand in hand they walked to the main square enjoying the chill air and the winter feeling.

“Look,” said Aelin once they reached the square “They have street vendors.”

“I thought you wanted to go out for dinner.”

She turned around and walked backward facing him “but this is winter fair food. It’s so good.”

“Come,” Rowan grabbed her hand “I’ll buy you dinner.” They walked to one of the stall “what do you want?”

“A nice juicy burger.” She smelled the food around her “and a couple of skewers as well.”

Rowan bought the food for her and himself and they sat down on a bench munching away happily.

In front of her the ice rink was surrounded by people being happy and having fun. Then a little blonde girl with pig tails ran to her “hello, gorgeous.” Aelin picked up the girl “where are your parents?” The little girl pointed in a random place. Rowan ruffled her hair and the girl giggled happily.

Then all of a sudden “Lynne.” And a woman hurried towards them “momma.” The little girl screamed at recognising the woman. Aelin passed the child to her mother “thank you,” said the woman hugging her daughter.

“She was adorable,” said Aelin leaning her head against Rowan’s shoulder. He kissed her head “she really was.”

Rowan eventually stood and took Aelin’s hand “Ice skating?”

Aelin joined him and together they went to the rental place and got their skates and changed into them.

Aelin took tentative steps to the entrance of the rink while Rowan had his hand on her lower back.

While Rowan went for the cautionary approach and moved some baby steps on the ice, Aelin was being her usual carefree self and jumped straight in the fray “Come on, buzzard, it’s easy.”

By the time she completed a few laps around the rink, Rowan was still holding to the edge for dear life. She slid to him and took his hands “come with me.” She took his hands and placed them on her sides “easy… follow me.” Slowly he got more confident and they managed to skate hand in hand.

The hour on the the ice was up and they were sitting on a bench again when when Lys texted her that she and Aedion were meeting Elide and Lorcan and have dinner together and invited them as well.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to see Lorcan out of work.” But his smile turned wicked “Oh no, I need to see smitten Lorcan.”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him “but no jokes in front of Elide.”

“Don’t worry I’ll just gather enough material to take the mickey out of him when we are alone.”

Gently she patted his arms “you really are evil.”

He nodded proudly “no news there. You should know by now.”

The other two couples arrived not long after and Rowan laughed at seeing Lorcan with his arm around Elide’s shoulders. The scene was almost ridiculous given how tall was the man compared to the woman.

“Aren’t they cute?” Whispered Aelin, grabbing his hand and walking toward the couple.

“Hi guys,” said a very happy Elide, waving her hand at Rowan and Aelin.

“Hi, darling.” Aelin hugged her friend and then looked up at the man at her side “evening, commodore.”

“I am just Lorcan tonight.”

Rowan snorted loudly “sure, Lor,”

“Lys and Aedion are on their way.” Added Aelin.

“Did you go ice skating?” Asked Rowan to his boss.

Elide laughed “I tried to convince him but he laughed at me.”

“Oh it would have been amazing to see the drunken giraffe.” commented Rowan with a wicked grin and Lorcan growled back at him “Whitethorn…”

“What’s the drunken giraffe?” Aelin smiled, ready for some snooping.

“Don’t you dare…”

And now the whole group was even more interested.

“So,” started Rowan with an evil grin “Lor was my captain and I was just a lieutenant. We had a team evening here in Orynth and it was winter. The ice skating rink was out. We had a few girls we wanted to impress, so we took them out.” He narrated, while Lorcan glared at him “Lorcan tried to skate but he is stupidly tall and well…” Rowan moved his arms with a jerky motion “it was hilarious.” He continued “his girl called him a drunken giraffe.”

Everyone burst out laughing and for a moment that story threw a funnier light on the man who seemed to be made of ice.

“Fine, fine Rowan you had your fun.”

Elide gave him a pat on his shoulder and in that instant Lysandra and Aedion joined them.

“We are here. Sorry we are late, parking was a pain.”

Aelin jumped all excited “we can finally have dinner.”

“You haven’t stopped eating since we arrived.” And Rowan pulled Aelin to his chest and kissed her temple “I love my bottomless pit.”

“Ow, you two are so cute it’s disgusting.” Joked Lysandra wrapping her arm around Aedion’s midriff.

“Come on let’s go to dinner before Aelin turns hangry.” Elide took Lorcan’s hand and dragged him away and the rest followed.

Once at the restaurants they got a table for six and sat down. Aelin grabbed the menu and started perusing “this place seems amazing.”

“I think we need a nice bottle of wine to celebrate that you two boys are finally back.” Suggested Elide who, all of a sudden, was confident and seemed to have lost all of her shyness.

The waiter came and took their order and as usual Aelin shocked the poor youngster with her gigantic order.

“Captain, are you sure you can afford feeding her?” Joked Aedion.

Rowan shrugged and smiled at Aelin “the bank doesn’t offer mortgages for feeding your girlfriend, apparently.”

The rest of the group laughed.

Then the wine arrived and they toasted and Aelin looked around at the table and smiled at the scene. Of being with her friends and Rowan. She placed her hand on his and gave him a big smile. She kept repeating to herself that he was back and he was real.

Lorcan took a sip of his wine “this feels nice,” and a weak smile painted his lips “after six months of bad food and no treats, this feels like bliss.”

“I didn’t pin you for a wine lover, commodore.” Said Aelin sipping her wine and agreeing with the man. It was a nice one he had got.

The man shrugged “we are posh boys, of course we like wine.” He gave her a half smile.

Aedion snorted “that’s all you can handle.”

“Ok,” almost shouted Lysandra “this is a dinner to have some fun together, not a pissing contest to see who is better between the army and the airforce. Now you three behave.” She pointed her finger at them and Aelin hid her smile behind her hand.

“So,” started Rowan trying to change the topic “any new plans for the wedding?”

Aedion nodded “we have a temporary date in January. We just need to find a venue and few other bits and bobs. And hope for no interruptions this time.”

“At least this time my girls will have their real partner at their side.” She looked at the two men “I am waiting for you two to melt when you see in their dress.

“Oh, believe me they did the first time around too.”

Rowan nodded remembering Aelin in her dress. Yeah the shower had been quite longer than his usual “Both Lorcan and I remember the dresses.” Admitted Rowan trying to sound as casual as possible.

Lorcan looked away almost embarrassed by the admission but Elide gently pinched his side “admit it, you loved it.”

“I did.” He said quietly.

“So captain,” began Lysandra while sipping more wine “are you going to teach our Aelin to cook?”

Rowan chuckled “I can try but I have a feeling it’s a suicide mission. As a soldier I can see when it’s time to push back and retreat.” He brushed his hand on her head softly “but it’s fine I love cooking.”

Aelin was about to reply but their food arrived and her focus disappeared on the plates placed in front of her.

“Sometimes I think she would find me more interesting if I dressed up as a giant hamburger.” She stuck out het tongue out at him and he flicked her nose. After six months away from her he was desperate for some contact. He would have loved to go home and partake in more interesting activities, but the idea of having dinner with the other two couples had been quite pleasant. And Aelin did not seem displeased by his extreme need for PDA.

“So, Lorcan, are you coming to the station one day to see Elide in action?” Suggested Aelin with a grin and Elide almost glared at her nervously.

The man lowered his fork and looked at her “I think I might.” Replied the man eagerly “I must admit, I am quite fascinated.”

“We can also give you a proper tour of the firehouse. The official one.”

“I think we can take them on the trucks, one each” suggested Aedion “I am happy to take the commodore. But you guys need to stay inside the truck.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Hey, I have seen you fly, it’s only fair.”

“You seen him fly?” Elide’s face turned to Lorcan “Can I see you fly?”

“I am sure the commodore and I can give you a lovely display of how I kick his arse.” And Rowan grinned wickedly at his boss.

“Please, please.” Singsonged Elide, taking his hand.

Lorcan nodded “let me know of a day off and we can get it organised.”

“Yes!” Shouted Elide all excited.

“Actually…” continued Lorcan “we sometimes give tour of some ares of the base. I might be able to get permission to invite the whole station for a tour and with the excuse of a drill we can give you a show.” He explained “I think we owe it to the TFD for the help they gave us.”

Rowan stared at Lorcan in disbelief. He knew everyone joked but Elide really was doing the miracle on him. He had never seen his CO so relaxed and willing to offer a tour of the base. Usually he would shove that kind of stuff to him. Rowan gave a big smile to Elide and a silent thank you. Lorcan actually seemed happy.

“I am sure the guys would love it.” Then Aelin turned to Aedion “are you willing to come for one day at posh house?”

“I guess I can do that.” And he smiled.

Lorcan nodded “Rowan, liaise with the captain and choose a suitable day.”

Rowan squeezed her hand under the table.

“Ok good, Rowan is coming to the station tomorrow morning. You can join us around nine.”

“Am I?” But Aelin looked at him puzzled.

“Yes, unless you have other plans.”

“Uhhm I was planning on going kitchen household shopping but I assume I can do grampa stuff another day.”

Aelin patted his head “good, grampa. Come and have some fun.”

Lorcan nodded “9 am sounds perfect. I must admit I am looking forward to this.”

“And coming from Lorcan this is the best compliment ever.” Joked Rowan.

“This is going to be much more fun than you guys running drills with us.” Explained Aedion who for once did not seem to have any problems with the airforce.

The group finished their meal and Aelin was the only one who actually went for dessert and everyone took the mickey out of her.

“Of course she gets the cake.” Elide rolled her eyes “how is it that you are not the size of a zeppelin I do not know.”

“Uh, I love you too.” Added Aelin while munching her cake away.

After the meal the group said their goodbyes Aelin and Rowan walked home, taking a detour through the park, hand in hand.

“I had a lovely evening.” Said Rowan pulling their twinned hand to his mouth and depositing a gentle kiss.

“I can’t believe Lorcan. He is so different.”

“I will be forever grateful to Elide. He is like another man.” He explained “I have known Lorcan for a very long time and I have never seen him so happy.”

Aelin almost skipped happily “are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Very much. I really want to see you in action.” He gently pinched her butt and Aelin squealed “you and your sexy jacket.”

“It’s called turnout or bunker gear.” She said to him leaning forward for a kiss “not as hot as your jumpsuit…” She swayed her hips in front of him.

He took a couple of steps and folded his arms around her waist and turned her around “you look hot even covered in grime.”

Aelin chuckled “you never saw me coming out of a house collapse after slithering through the debris and come out with my clothes white, my hair grey ad my face verging on black.”

His hand caressed her sides “Imagine the long shower…” his lips brushing hers gently.

“We are in a park, captain.” Her arms sneaked around his neck.

“I am just reminiscing our first kiss.” And slowly pinned her to a tree.

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him first “I’d throw my shoes at you but they are trainers and would hurt. It’s a shame I don’t have my flats on.”

“My menace…” he whispered, their mouths sharing a breath. “I should take you home. You have work tomorrow.” And pulled back from her, grabbing then her hand and resuming walking.

“You fuss too much.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and smiled “let’s just say it’s in the job description for boyfriend.”

“What else does it entail?”

He took a long pause staring toward the pond “make you happy, mostly.”

Aelin stopped him and turned him to her “you do. Make me happy, I mean.” Rowan stooped and kissed her hard “home, now. It’s getting near your bed time.”

“Sexy bed time?”

“No, young lady, we are going home and tuck you in bed and no shenanigans allowed.”

“You are no fun,” she complained walking away from him pretending to be mad.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back “You came off shift this morning and I got home this morning. We both need rest.”

Her smile turned wicked “I might go and find myself a younger model. I wonder if Fenrys is interested in a sexy firefighter.”

A second later Aelin found herself pinned again against a tree and his lips on hers, the kiss demanding and almost possessive.

When Rowan pulled back they were both breathless, his forehead leaned on hers “don’t even joke about it.”

“Jealous much?”

“You are my girl.” He whispered against her lips and the tone he used made her heart melt.

“Said that again.”

“You,” his lips travelled along her neck “are,” a gentle nip of his teeth “my girl.” And a searing kiss.

How was it possible that the man in front of her could stir such deep passion and desire in her? Something so strong she had never felt before with anyone. It felt like an all consuming fire. She just hoped it would stay like that forever. She felt his hand sneak under her hoodie and touch skin and groaned into the kiss “let’s go home, captain. We are in a park and both about to lose it.”

He nodded silently and started walking home as quick as they could.

As soon as they were through the door to the house, Rowan lifted her in his arms, kicked the door shut with his foot and walked to the bedroom.

“I thought you said no shenanigans.”

“Fuck it.” He let her slid down and a second later his hand had started peeling off her clothes and she did the same.

“Show me what you got.” A second later she was airborne in his arm and then in bed. His strong body hovering over her. His pine green eyes trained on her and she could see the desire in them.

When he kissed her again her toes curled and heat began pooling at her core.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. It was all he needed and a moment later his name was on her lips begging him for more over and over again.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading @tillyrubes10 @surielandiareendgame

@aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove

@mis-lil-red @thegreyj

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #elide x lorcan #aedion x lysandra

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serendipityjxmn · 3 years

Text

Mr. President

Chapter 19

TW: Violence, strong language, cursing

Words Count: 2.3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 20

After your heated argument with Jimin, you find yourself in the small library room, the room that you often find solace in. You sit on the couch, hugging your legs tight before letting the sobs take over.

You set yourself into this. You fall for him even when you know it’s going to cause you pain.

For a long hour, you just cry yourself out until your body is exhausted and you just stare numbly ahead.

And that’s when you decided you’re going to leave.

You force yourself to sleep then because you know your body needs rest. But half an hour later you find yourself constantly twisting your body, unable to sleep as you wait for tomorrow’s morning to come with pounding heart.

When the morning finally comes, you pace back and forth in your room. You couldn’t sleep a wink last night. You lean against the door, listening intently.

Once you figured that it’s safe, you duck out silently and heads upstairs into the bedroom. You don’t see your husband anywhere so it’s a safe bet that he’s already out to work.

Wasting no time, you take out a medium size duffel bag and stuff several pairs of shirts and pants. You dig in the small drawer and takes out some cash that you had kept. For a moment, you contemplate whether you should bring your phone with you but then decide against it because you don’t want to risk being tracked by your husband.

You head downstairs and exit the house silently and from then on, it is fairly easy to escape. Your own bodyguard, Taeseok is nowhere to be seen and thus makes it easier for you to slip through the security as they probably wouldn’t think that you’re escaping.

You weren’t stopped until the front guards and you quickly lie about going to the gym with a friend and he doesn’t seem to be suspicious at all.

For a long time, you just walk and walk and just take random buses and sit on a bench at random parks, just watching people passing by, watching people who doesn’t seem to have any worry in their life although you know everyone is far from having zero complications in their life.

Everyone is working hard.

Everyone is working hard living their life.

And there’s you. A foolish twenty three year old girl, who’d married the leader of a dangerous mafia gang and ended up falling in love with him.

You find tears slipping from your eyes.

Jimin..

You wonder if your husband’s looking for you.

Or perhaps he’s decided to let go whatever it is between the two of you.

Had you just imagine it? Every little act that he does?

Perhaps you should’ve just said yes to your husband’s new proposal. Maybe that could’ve made things easier and you don’t have to deal with immense pain like this from heartache.

But you know that you couldn’t share him. You don’t want to share him with another woman.

You let out a long sigh. This wallowing-in-sadness is really getting nowhere.

You get up then and sees that it’s almost dark, dusk almost setting in with the yellow and orange sky. Somehow, you find yourself on the outskirt of Seoul after all those random routes you’ve taken. You checked into a small budget hotel after searching around the neighbourhood. You plop yourself on the bed once you’ve settled into the small bedroom, briefly wondering what you’re gonna do after this.

You don’t have any plan.

Let alone a huge sum of money.

You close your eyes for few seconds.

Nevermind all that. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.

You can start slow from the bottom. Find some low paying job and make your way from there. You resolve to go for a job hunt first thing tomorrow morning.

After you finish a long shower that night, you curl yourself on the bed. The mattress is rough, not at all soft and comfy like the one you’re used to sharing with Jimin but it’s okay, you don’t mind it one bit since you’re used to hardship before you even met him.

You marvel at the fact that you’re once again out in streets. Not far from before you met Jimin, really.

And your husband..

You feel a laughter of disbelief bubbles up inside you.

You left your husband. You made the decision to leave him when he couldn’t reciprocate the feelings he’d never promised in the first place so it’s a bit ridiculous that you’re missing him now right?

Unknowingly, your fingers trace your lips. It seems so vivid how your husband had kissed you last night. You’ve never been kissed that way before but then again, you’ve never been kissed by anyone.

You want to blame your husband for putting you through such pain but you know it’s not his fault. The marriage and the relationship you have with him is only temporary so he doesn’t do stupid things like falling in love or become emotionally invested because that would be a waste of his time.

He’d given you the choice yet you’re the one who chooses the wrong way and walks away from the opportunity he’s given.

But is it though? Are you making a mistake right now?

If you had just say yes, you could have everything you want.

Except his heart, of course.

Which is ironically the only thing that you want.

But you know deep down you don’t want to lie to yourself and to him.

It proves easier than said to find work in this small neighbourhood. It’s been four days and you still hadn’t find a job and you’re getting more anxious.

But no matter what, you still have to eat. You’ve survived not eating for days before and you can survive on minimal food consumption so this is definitely not a new feeling. Pursing your lips, you make your way to the grocery store and begins stocking up on several ingredients and paid for it.

You head back out, holding a bag full of groceries. After a few minutes of walking, you suddenly had that eerie feeling of being watched, a feeling that felt so similar to the one that you’ve experienced while at the charity function at Jaehyun’s house a week ago.

Shiver runs down through your body and you’re not sure if it is caused by the cold wind at night which is suddenly stronger or your growing paranoia.

Pulling your jacket tighter, you start to walk faster. It’s daytime, though bleak clouds are looming over you but it’s still bright. Nothing would probably happen in this broad daylight right?

You wish you were right.

Something happens really quickly just then. One moment you’re just turning the corner towards your block and the next moment, you see someone jumps out of a van and clasps your mouth and nose with cloth tightly.

And everything becomes black after that.

You didn’t faint, you think once your brain starts functioning. Perhaps only for a fleeting moment, you think. You blink several times but your vision is still blinded and realize your face is covered with a mask. The hum of the car’s engine and the slight shake of your body tells you you’re in the van you saw and you’re being transported somewhere. It’s quite a long distance and you try to think of possible places from the routes they’re taking but to no avail. You haven’t lived in the neighbourhood for long, it’s impossible to know where they’re bringing you.

The van eventually comes to a halt and suddenly you feel your body being dragged out. Your feet struggles to catch up as the person drags you over the rough gravel of the pavement, the cold wind making you shudder immediately.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” You ask and it’s obviously a mistake as a harsh slap lands on your cheek instantly. You wince, feeling blood forming on your lips.

“Shut up, bitch.” The rough voice says.

They make you sit on a chair, your hands tied behind your back. Your throat is very dry and you’ve no idea how long they’ve kept you there. You can’t see anything as your face remains covered.

At some point, you doze off and only wake when someone hit your cheeks, not too rough but still leaves a stinging pain. They uncover your face enough to give you some water and that’s it. You’re left alone again.

You’re not entirely sure if you’ve been hit again because the stinging pain on your lips and cheeks are now numb, you can barely feel them. You’re not sure if you fainted at some point either.

You hear some voices then. And despite the mask you’re wearing, you open your eyes to the darkness.

“Well, well, well.” A familiar voice. Too familiar.

And that’s when the mask covering your face is yanked away and your eyes struggle to adjust to the light.

“Hello little sister.”

Jay.

Your own brother.

Your eyes stare fixedly at him as he smirks at you. He looks pretty decent, his cheeks doesn’t sunk so much, his face cleaner and he dresses normally.

“J-Jay-“ you struggle to say, your throats is still very dry. You swallow several times and try to gather your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Aww little sis, don’t take that tone with me. Don’t you miss me?” He leans forward and cups both your cheeks forcefully making you whimper in pain. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

You spit on him, forcing him to release you and with a look of rage, he slaps you hard on your right cheek. Your eyes widen when you see few drops of blood splatter on the floor. You think your lips had split in a dozen different parts.

Jay spits and then wipes his face clear. You look around and realize you’re in some abandoned warehouse and there are several other guys looking at the both of you with interest.

Perhaps they’ve never seen a brother so willingly hit his own sister.

“Why are you doing this?”

Jay tongues his cheek before smirking. “I know you’re living with Park Jimin now. You think you’re safe now that you’re living with him? Do you even know what kind of guy he is?”

“He’s my husband.” You answer firmly.

He laughs at that. “Husband? Funny how he can let his wife be kidnapped, huh? But that doesn’t matter. I need your beloved husband here.”

You grit your teeth. “Why?”

“You’re asking why? What- you think he can simply takes you as he wish? He needs to pay me before taking you. And if he doesn’t, I will sell you off anywhere. Anywhere that gives me the most money.”

You scoff. “That’s all you always think about. Money, money and money.”

“Don’t we all? You have all his money yet you won’t even share some for me? Some ungrateful bitch.” He spats.

He then lunges forward and nothing prepares you for another stinging pain as he hit you right on the cheek. “This is for leaving me bitch.” And then another. “And this is for being such a slut.”

You feel your vision momentarily blinds as your eyes roll out and you struggle to remain conscious. “Just kill me.” You croak.

“Kill? No no that’d be too easy little sister.. I want you to suffer what I suffered.. you’re gonna die.. eventually- oh you will. But being the good little sister that you are.. you’re gonna let me have my fun first, gonna cut your pretty little face first and then maybe your fingers.. and your cunt.. did you have sex with him already? Of course you did like the slut you are.. and then I’m gonna let all these men here fuck you and if you’re still alive by then.. we’ll see..”

“You’re psycho.”

“Psycho?” He laughs. “Maybe I am. Maybe after all is done, I’ll give you back to your precious husband and see if he’ll take you back..”

“No..” you say slowly. “He’s gonna come and he’ll tear your limbs before you could say my name.”

“Shut up bitch,” is the last thing he says before he knocks you out again.

The next time you wake, you hear a female voice in between male voices.

“Don’t you think you had too much fun with her? What if she’s dead already? Damn it, missed my chance to have fun..” the female says, her voice also strangely familiar.

The other guy you realise is you brother laughs. “No.. don’t worry.. this bitch is tougher than you think.. how do you think she’s survived years of my beating and still breathing?”

“Maybe you hit like a pussy.”

“God damn it, I wanna stick my cock into your mouth so you’d shut up bitch.”

You hear her laughter.

Your stomach churns and you have this sudden whooping feeling as your eyes finally refocus and widens in recognition of the said female.

Clara Kim.

There’s no mistaking her tall and slender figure, although her hair is now changed to blue color.

How is she related to your brother?

“Someone’s awake.” Clara says as her eyes meet yours. She takes several steps forward and leans down to stare at you from top to bottom. “So this is Jimin’s wife huh... no wonder he’s changed.” She says when she straightens again.

“Not gonna lie.. I like Jimin and so does a thousand other girls out there but I don’t demand his heart. I don’t do shits like relationship and so does Jimin but you- you little witch-“ she pauses then leans forward again, her slender fingers clasps your cheeks, turning it left and right, “Not so pretty now with all these blood and bruises huh?”

You stare at her in disdain. “He’s not gonna come. He doesn’t love me.”

“We’ll see about that.” She smirks.

He’s not gonna come, briefly you think.

“Just kill me, kill me!” You yell and someone knocks you out again.

Link to Chapter 20

Posted on 210514 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

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red-exo · 4 years

Text

moonlight convenience - part 9

summary: Jaebeom had been alive a long time. He never really got the hang of humans. They confused him, always so warm and frantic and fragrant. He could barely remember being one. He mostly stuck with his handful of immortal friends, clinging to their relationships for some semblance of normalcy. Then there was you. And you… were different.

warnings: vampire au, soulmate au - eventual smut, fluff, blood is involved, some violence bc vampires, a lil exhibitionism/voyeur stuff - jaebeom can see into her apartment window.

pairing: female reader/jaebeom

note: okay this took so long i’m sorrrryyyyy - there will be nsfw bits in the next part! i just ran out of steam on this part.

_________________________

You realize early one morning a few weeks later that you have not kissed Jaebeom nearly as much as you want to. It could be because of the whole vampire thing, you think as you brush your teeth.

Somehow, thinking of him barely being able to restrain himself around you is... hot. Really hot.

You clear your throat, moving on to delicately applying makeup and messing with your hair until it stops falling into your eyes. You have plans to meet up with Jaebeom and the rest of the guys in a few hours. Apparently they do more than just sit in the bar and make fun of each other, since you’ve been invited to BamBam’s house for lunch. It’s apparently just as extravagant and extra as he is, a penthouse with an amazing view and an indoor pool. Thinking of BamBam, it doesn’t surprise you.

You know you definitely should not be horny in an apartment full of vampires, with insanely superior senses, so you calm yourself down by doing math in your head as you get dressed.

It’s practically an olympic sport. There had been times when you caught Jaebeom looking at you with this half-lidded look in his eyes, and if you looked close enough you could see the subtle press of his canines against his lower lip. It made you throb.

It probably made you irreparably stupid, or desperate, to be that turned on by someone that could kill you without breaking a sweat. Oh well. You blamed it on the whole soulmate thing.

It’s stupidly cold outside, now deep into winter, so you have no time for looking cute. It’s jeans and a t-shirt, hidden under one of Jaebeom’s large hoodies.

You see a text from Jaebeom that he’s outside, ready to pick you up, so you put on your coat, stuff your shoes on, and hurry downstairs.

His luxurious black car is idling at the curb and you rush forwards towards it, worried about him getting a parking ticket. Then, your boot hits a patch of black ice, not properly removed on the sidewalk, and you go careening backwards.

You land square on your ass, flopping backwards as your neck ricochets back. Your purse goes scattering across the pavement and you’re ready for your skull to crack against the pavement. Luckily, it hits something warm and solid instead.

You open your eyes to see Jaebeom leaning over you, his hand cradling the back of your head. Apparently not even vampires are fast enough to get out of a car and all the way across the sidewalk in time to catch you when you fell.

You laugh, breathless and cold, “Thanks.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying enough attention,” He says, looking incredibly frantic as he helps you to your feet. His hands leave you for barely a second as he steps away to grab your purse, holding it in one hand as the other arm wraps around your waist.

“It’s okay,” You shake your head at him, “It’s not your fault.”

He looks skeptical at that, but doesn’t say anything, just leads you carefully to the car. He waits until you buckle your seatbelt to place your bag in your lap, then he gets in on the driver’s side and pulls away.

He’s glancing at you every few seconds, eyebrows knitted together. You reach over, gently touching his right hand where it rests on the gear shift. His shoulders drop from where they’re bunched up around his ears.

“I’m fine,” You laugh, “I’ve fallen on ice more times than I can count.”

“But I was right there,” He says, “I’m supposed to catch you.”

You roll your eyes, absently drawing a pattern on the back of his hand with your fingers, “You’re dramatic.”

That makes him laugh. He turns his hand over, capturing your fingers with his own for a moment, pulling your hand up to kiss it. It’s gentle, sweet, but it makes your heart skip a beat.

Everything is slow motion for a minute as you watch his lips touch your skin, your brain thinking of other ways his mouth could touch you. You know he hears your heart, maybe senses the way your body heats up.

He releases your hand to make a smooth right turn, and when the car’s moving straight again he drops his right hand onto your left thigh. His hand isn’t particularly warm, none of him is, but the sheer pressure of his palm on your thigh is entrancing.

You spread your legs slightly without thinking, the tips of his fingers touching the seam that runs up the inside of your thigh. He tightens his grip.

“I will never live it down if we’re late,” He says, and the low tone of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps.

You glance over at him. He’s staring steadfastly at the road, but his jaw looks impossibly tight.

“What do you mean?”

He smirks, glancing over at you with his eyes dark, “You know what I mean.”

You’re very wet. You shift in the seat and he looks away. You watch his throat bob as he swallows.

“They will know why we’re late,” He says, glancing at you again, “Later.”

Later? Your heart picks up. Maybe finally you’d end up in his bed not clothed.

“It’s a good thing that sweater smells too much like me to let them smell anything else.”

“What?” You ask, a little embarassed. You feel a hot flush climb up the back of your neck.

“I’m more in tune with you than they are,” He says, “All they’ll smell on you is me. I’m the only one who gets to know the rest.”

You sigh heavily, trying to calm yourself down.

Jaebeom suddenly pulls the car through a set of tall, black gates. They block off a fancy parking lot that’s spread out in front of a glitzy, shining condo building. He stops at a guard that’s waiting there, letting him know who he’s visiting and what unit.

“Penthouse,” Jaebeom says, and the guard checks the information on a small tablet.

He nods, walking to the front of Jaebeom’s car and typing in his license plate. He steps to the side and waves them through after that. Jaebeom pulls up to a line of spots parked at visitor parking and pulls in next to a big black SUV.

He cuts the engine, shifting in his seat to look at you, “Stay at my place tonight?”

You nod frantically, smiling, “Yes please.”

He reaches out, cupping your chin in his hand, “What good manners.”

There’s something about the way he says it, with his eyes dark and hooded, staring at you with his mouth partially open. You swallow thickly, heart pumping.

He leans forwards, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. You sigh, leaning into him. After a moment, he pulls back, “Come on.”

The parking lot at the complex is impeccable, not a shred of ice in sight, but Jaebeom offers you his arm anyways. You loop yours through his, resting your hand in the crook of his elbow. You press closer despite the lack of heat his body had, shivering.

A doorman opens the door for you and there’s even an attendant in the elevator. He presses the PH button for them and the elevator soars upwards, far faster than the creaky one in your building.

The doors slide open, revealing a small foyer before a pair of tall, frosted glass doors. BamBam must have heard the elevator start in the lobby, since he pulls one door open as soon as they step into the foyer.

“Hey!” He greets, beaming at them, “Come on in.”

You can hear music coming from further in the apartment, and loud laughter booming out over each note. It sounds like Youngjae, but you can’t be sure.

You leave your coats and shoes at the door, and as BamBam leads you to the den you busy yourself with rolling up the sleeves of Jaebeom’s sweater so you can use your hands.

His place is huge, with tall ceilings and windows letting in huge streams of afternoon light. Everything is white and grey, with accents of warm colours all over the place. The den is a step down from the hallway, sunken, with a huge U shaped couch and a theatre sized TV mounted on the wall. The rest of the boys are scattered across the room.

Youngjae hangs with his head falling off the couch, playing with a small white dog that bounces around near his hands.

Mark and Jinyoung sit side by side on the other side, both of them looking at something on Mark’s phone. Jackson is watching the movie that plays on the TV, with Yugyeom leaning on his shoulder.

They all perk up when you enter the room, though, Youngjae flipping upright alarmingly fast.

“Hi,” You say, lifting a hand in greeting.

You go to walk around the back of the couch, following the urging of Jaebeom’s gentle hand on your back, but as you walk past Jinyoung and Mark a hand reaches up and grabs you.

You’re pulled over the top of the couch with a yelp, landing with a bounce on the cushions beside Jinyoung. You quickly right yourself as Jinyoung laughs at you, mercilessly ruffling your hair with his hand. He somehow looks perfect, not a single thing out of place on him.

You swat his hand away, trying to smooth your hair back into place, “Fuck you.”

Jaebeom laughs, rounding the edge of the couch and dropping down on your other side. He reachs around you to press two fingers on Jinyoung’s temple and pushes lightly.

“You know what’s ridiculous?” BamBam asks, folding himself neatly onto the floor by the TV, “If I had done that he’d have thrown me out the window.”

“You’re not Jinyoung,” Mark says without looking up from his phone.

Jackson laughs, and the conversation is turned to different things.

_________________________

The two of you end up staying far later than expected. Jaebeom watches you easily laugh and talk with the others, and something settles in him. You were missing and now you’re here. Despite you being very human something very vampiric is satisfied in him, like a necessary part of the coven had finally arrived.

Just as it’s getting dark out BamBam appears from the kitchen with a bottle of wine. He keeps booze around in case he fools around with a human, Jaebeom knows.

“Do you want a drink?” BamBam asks you and you perk up, peering over the edge of the couch.

“If you’re going to be giving me alcohol I need to eat first,” You laugh, “I haven’t eaten since this morning, I’ll be wasted immediately.”

Jaebeom leans forwards from his spot beside you, “Are you hungry?”

You turn back towards him, “I mean a bit, yeah.” You shrug, “It’s okay. I can order something.”

Watching the way you move is comical to Jaebeom sometimes, fiddling around to get into your back pocket, fingers only reaching halfway before he’s got his phone hovering in front of your face with a delivery app open already.

“I can pay for it,” You say, rolling your eyes, “It’s for me, it’s not like you’re having any.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, not moving. After a moment, you sigh and take it from him. BamBam had retreated to the kitchen to find a glass and suddenly returns with a whole tray of drinks. One is clearly yours, shimmery white wine, translucent, while the others are viscous and dark. Blood.

Jaebeom glances at you as you place his phone on his leg, eyes darting to the smooth expanse of your throat. He’s finally decided he can’t hold back anymore. If you’re willing, he wants to lay you down bare and soft underneath him in the safety of his apartment.

You happily take the glass of wine off the tray, seeming unphased by the literal glasses of blood surrounding it. You’re happy enough with your incoming food delivery. Jaebeom checks the app, sees you’ve ordered a bowl of ramen and some dumplings. It gets picked up by a guy in a red car, and he watches the little animated GPS tracker slide along the streets.

You’re talking softly to Jinyoung when he tunes back in. Something about your job, and Jinyoung laughs.

“Don’t tell Jaebeom about that.”

Jaebeom straightens up, leaning right into your space. He wraps an arm quickly around your waist and moves you backwards, shifting so you’re leaning securely against his chest. He hooks his chin over your shoulder to look at Jinyoung.

“Tell me what?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “You’re overprotective. Breathe.”

You laugh, reaching up to pat Jaebeom’s cheek, “Just that one weird dude at work.” He’s reminded of you mentioning him at one point, the one outlier amongst your otherwise great coworkers, “He keeps standing outside my cubicle for no reason, watching me work. It’s weird.”

Jaebeom clenches his jaw, about to speak, but then his phone starts to buzz. Your food is here.

“I’ll go get it,” You say, springing up and grabbing his phone.

“It’s fine,” He goes to get up, but you give him a strong look and he sits back down.

“I’ll be right back.” You disappear towards the front door.

“Now,” Mark says, suddenly piping up from Jinyoung’s other side, “What you’re not going to do is go to her work and try to intimidate this dude.”

Jaebeom sighs, falling heavily against the back of the couch, “He makes her uncomfortable!”

“Yes, and she can tell him to fuck off,” Mark looks at him, one eyebrow raised, “You do not need to go and make her whole office think you’re a crazy weirdo with anger issues. That would embarass her. If she wants your help, she’ll ask.”

“He’s right,” Jinyoung says, gently shoving him with his foot, “She can handle herself against a random weird coworker.”

_________________________

You learn that BamBam has more than one bottle of wine once you finish the first. You’re well and truly tipsy, leaning heavily against Jaebeom’s side as a movie plays on the giant screen. He has you tucked under one arm, holding you securely against his side.

You stop drinking after your next glass, wanting to be sober enough for whatever Jaebeom meant by “later.”

It’s early evening now, and everything outside of the windows is the pitch-darkness that comes with winter. You can see the speckles of light that spread across the city like a blanket, lighting up every block.

You leave not long after that, saying goodbye to everyone as you bundle up in preparation for heading outside. It’s even colder outside now than it had been earlier and you press close to Jaebeom as you cross the parking lot.

He cranks the heat once you get in the car and you try to sink into the collar of your coat, tugging up the hood of Jaebeom’s sweater as you pull out of the parking lot.

“Did you still want to stay at my place tonight?” He asks and you nod, giving him a small smile.

If it weren’t for the snow on the road you felt like he may have hit the gas a little harder, but instead he tightens his grip on the steering wheel and carefully navigates the light traffic across town.

You pull into the underground parking for his building, the lights dim and the sudden silence nearly deafening. You know he can hear the frantic pounding of your heart.

He pulls into his spot and cuts the engine. The car goes dark and you glance up, waiting for the overhead light to turn on. It doesn’t.

Jaebeom moves quickly, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He moves your head until you’re facing him, staring down at you in the darkness as your eyes adjust.

“I don’t want to hurt you accidentally,” He says softly and you can feel his breath fan out over your face, “So you have to be good and listen to everything I say, okay?”

You try to nod but his grip is like iron, “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

#jaebeom #jaebeom x reader #jaebum #jaebum x reader #got7 #got7 x reader #jaebeom smut #jaebum smut #vampire!jaebeom #vampire!jaebum #got7 smut #got7 imagines #mine

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, justifying, promoting nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, stalking, murder, kidnapping, torture, mental manipulation, use of LSD, physical violence, mind breaking, sexual scenes and other yandere behavior. Read at your own discretion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟸 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚃.

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□90%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙴𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚢/𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 .

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎.

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 '𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝' 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was a lost and wandering soul when it happened.

It wasn't that he was depressed or unsatisfied with his life.

But for the longest time he felt....empty.

As if he was carrying a void that couldn't be filled.

Not even his favorite hobbies gave him joy any longer.

It was as if he was either tapping out tunes on the piano or splattering colors on articles of clothing.

They had no meaning whatsoever anymore.

Live no longer felt to have any more meaning to him.

He felt like he was merely an empty shell, just going through life but never actually living.

Coming out of an arts and crafts store, his hands were full of all sorts of acrylics and watercolors he had just bought.

A passing cyclist didn't see him and didn't really care as he slightly collided with Hongjoong.

Letting out a big "oof!" he stumbled onto the pavement underneath him, all his materials flying out.

Although he wasn't hurt much, he still let out a groan and tried to get up.

He was startled when a gentle hand reached out towards him, lending him some help.

Looking up, his heart somersaulted as he stared at the kind and beautiful stranger that was offering him assistance.

"Are you all right?" Her eyes were full of concern and tenderness for him.

Hongjoong forgot how to speak in that moment, too amazed and stunned by the beauty standing right in front of him.

Nevertheless he did take her hand, his body trembling nervously as soon as he had the first physical contact with her.

The woman shook her head as her eyebrows furrowed.

"Seriously, what a jerk. Can't believe some people honestly."

Hongjoong still didn't respond, instead he shyly began picking up some of the stuff that had fallen.

"Let me help you." She offered her help once more.

Of course she was faster and picked up most of the stuff because he had a huge scrape on his knee and he was limping slightly.

"Thank....thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper as he took the stuff away from her.

"You're welcome. Would you like me to help you carry them to your car?"

Waving his hand he adamantly denied her offer, assuring her over and over again that he was all right.

Before he could leave, the girl extended her hand once again.

"I'm Y/N by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Y/N...."

Her name repeated itself over and over again in his head even hours after she had left him.

Even as he layed in his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling, he couldn't keep the softest smile off his face.

He didn't know if he had drifted off to sleep or was zoning in and out of a lucid dream, but all he could think about was her.

He was up as soon as the sun rose up, flinging his blanket across the room as he ran to his desk and took out his sketchpad.

Right away, he began to outline her face, wanting the vivid image of her to stay with him should his mind ever dare to erase her from his memory.

Although he was satisfied with the ending result, it was still not enough for him.

He felt his goddess, his newfound muse needed more justice than just pencil to capture her beauty.

Watercolors, acrylics, oil pastels and even ink, there wasn't any art material that Hongjoong didn't use to create a portrait of Y/N.

Soon his studio was filled and covered with paintings of her and he couldn't be happier...

Until he realized how much he'd rather have the real thing right there in person with him, in his arms, holding her and never letting go.

He almost fell into a depressive state again, dreading the fact that he'd never see his beloved muse ever again......

Until he saw her once again, walking across the street from the cafe he was in.

He quickly sprung out of his seat and ran out the door, eager to see her once again and hopefully talk to her more.

Just as he was about to call out to her, he stopped when a male came up to her, hugging her ever so intimately and ruffling her hair.

Hongjoong's hand tightened into a fist, nails digging into his skin as his eyes burning with anger and jealousy.

"She's my treasure, I found her and I won't let anyone else take her from me."

Making sure they were unaware of his looming presence, he stalked them out, trying to find the perfect opportunity to strike.

They seemed to be going on some sort of date, which only fueled his anger.

Finally, after they both went their separate ways, Hongjoong followed the mysterious man home, not letting his chance escape.

As soon as the man parked in his driveway and got out of the car, Hongjoong cornered him.

Using his belt as a makeshift weapon, he wrapped it around the man's throat, tightening it until he cut off his air flow.

Although he put up quite a struggle, Hongjoong was so full of anger and rage that he kept him strangled until his body stopped writhing and layed cold on his feet.

Taking his keys, Hongjoong decided to go inside the house to see if he could find anymore information about his precious treasure, figure out where she lived and what not.

Finding a cabinet full of documents, not only did Hongjoong found her address but also ended up discovering the man he just killed was actually her brother, and not a lover as he believed him to be.

"Oh well. Mistakes happen." He justified himself.

"Besides, he still would have been an obstacle and might have come between us."

A week later and now he was waiting for her inside her house, not having any difficulty in breaking in.

His eyes would anxiously look at the time, waiting for her to come home from work like she would usually do at that time.

When he heard her car come up in the driveway, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

Y/N walked into her house as usual, throwing her bag onto the couch.

As she was about to turn on the light, she felt a hard blow to her head, knocking her to the ground, her vision suddenly turning black.

When she awoke, she was beyond startled by all the countless portraits and clay figurines modeled after her.

Her eyes scanned the entire room, somewhat frightened by all the countless images of her staring back at her.

She was so bewildered by the scene that she didn't hear the door open and didn't see the person who came in until she was jolting out of her seat when a hand placed itself on her shoulder.

When she turned around and saw who it was that was smiling at her, she couldn't believe her eyes.

"You......you're...you're..."

Hongjoong nodded. "Yes my darling. I'm the man you helped out a month ago. Which, by the way I'm still grateful for."

Cupping her chin with his fingers, he leaned in to give her a kiss but she backed away, which made him frown.

"Hey, it's not very nice to reject someone's offer of gratitude darling. Did they not teach you manners at home?"

When he reached out to touch her once again, she smacked his hand away, moving as far away from him as possible.

Although it didn't really hurt him, Hongjoong was disappointed that his beloved muse could actually strike at him.

"This isn't what I imagined or expected from you love. You're supposed to be gentle, serene, obedient and just outright perfect.... like the pictures surrounding you.."

Y/N put her hands above her face when he crept closer to her once more, but Hongjoong, who was deceivingly strong for his body built, quickly took hold of them and uncovered her face.

"But that's ok.......if a small lump of clay can be easily molded into a beautiful vase, I'm sure I can mold you to perfection."

Y/N shuddered at his words, and tried to writhe her way out of his grasp as he pulled her out into the hallway and dragged her down into what she assumed was his basement.

Using his strength to overpower her, he easily strapped her down into one of the chairs he kept there, binding her legs and hands down.

"I suggest you start familiarizing yourself with this place Y/N. This...."

With an eerily calm and somewhat sadistic smile, Hongjoong extended his arms to gesture around the room.

"Is where your training begins."

7 months.......for 7 excruciating months, Y/N had been kept in Hongjoong's house, 3 of which were spent inside his room of horrors.

She still didn't understand how she came out of there alive and in one piece.

There wasn't a single night where she didn't relive the torture she went through.

Slapping, canning, limbs stretched out til they were almost out of their sockets, head submerged in water til she nearly passed out.

One time she had resisted so much and pissed Hongjoong off extremely by slapping him that he strapped her hand down and smashed her fingers one by one, breaking them entirely.

Of course, although he helped her heal them as he did her other wounds because he didn't want permanent physical damage on his treasure.

It'd only serve to ruin and taint her perfect image.

But the worst for Y/N wasn't going through all the physical torture.....

Her worst nightmare was all the times Hongjoong dosed her on LSD, prompting her to start hallucinating horrible scenarios.

Her mind seemed to weaken with every dosage he gave her, it would slowly eat away every last bit of her sanity.

Which might explain why now she tried to be more obedient and pliant towards Hongjoong, doing everything as he said and exactly how he wanted her to.

Although occasionally she would still step out of line, he'd shoot her a glare and warn her about it.

"Do you want to go back down there? Did I not give you sufficient training?"

At the sole mention of being taken back downstairs, she'd immediately remember herself and portray the illusion he wanted.

Hongjoong seemed thrilled to finally have created the perfect model, his beautiful creation came to life.

He was absolutely head over heels for his lovely goddess, she was beyond perfect and ethereal.

Sure she still had a little bit of stubbornness in her, but that was easily fixed and she'd be his perfect little doll once more.

And he loved praising her and reminding her about it, especially when they were intimate.

"See love? I knew you would come to love me." He whispered softly in her ear, a low moan escaping his lips as he moved inside of her.

Kissing the sides of her neck, he panted softly as he came inside her.

"My beautiful and perfect goddess."

Months turned to over a year and although Y/N still played the part of a loving and perfect soulmate, she didn't know how long she could take it anymore.

Perhaps it was being locked up for so long, perhaps it was the fear Hongjoong instilled in her. Maybe she was tired from playing a role she couldn't keep up with anymore.

All that combined with the fact she was now pregnant with Hongjoong's child, her hormones going crazy and her mind worrying about what her future would be like had her ready to snap.

One particular day, she just about had it.

Hongjoong had been smothering her all day, constantly nagging about taking care of herself and not harm the baby.

Her blood was boiling with rage as he kept pestering her about it over dinner.

Having had enough, she got out of her seat and reached for the nearest kitchen knife and pointed it at her stomach.

"Why don't I just rip out the baby out then? Maybe then you'll be satisfied."

Hongjoong immediately got up and tried to take the knife away from her.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?!" He exclaimed.

"If I lost my mind it's all thanks to you!"

Even after Hongjoong managed to toss the knife out of her hands, Y/N still continued to struggle and smack her hands at him, beating at his chest as hard as she could.

"I hate you!" She declared before her fist tried to collide with his face, but Hongjoong being faster than her, stopped it from hitting him.

Outraged that his model was breaking down, he picked her up, not caring about her being pregnant and stomped his way back to the training room.

Y/N was already bursting into tears when he began strapping her down into the chair, protesting about it.

"You'll hurt our child you mon-."

Gripping her throat tightly, he cut her off from finishing that sentence.

"This coming from the one threatening to rip the innocent baby out herself. But don't worry, I'll make sure no harm comes to our child."

Letting go of her neck, he quickly took out a familiar vial and needle out of a cabinet.

Although Y/N tried to get away, it was no use as she was once again tied up and the sting of the fluids shooting up her veins, making her dizzy immediately.

Hongjoong only watched with a blank face as the drugs started to take effect.

Going back to the cabinet, he took out a folder and walked back to Y/N with it.

"Now.... I never planned to show you this, but I guess you left me no choice."

Even in her hazy state, Y/N could make out what seemed to be a picture of her brother, but she wasn't sure if it was an illusion or not

"Yes, that is your brother indeed. Took care of you when your parents died and you were very attached to him. Your only living relative right?.....or is he?"

Pulling out another picture, Hongjoong made sure to hold it up right in her face so she could clearly see the gruesome image.

"This is how I left him after I attacked him one night. You'll be proud, he put up quite a good fight, but as you can see......in the end he still lost." He actually had the audacity to chuckle as if it was an amusing thing.

Y/N wanted to scream, but her body wouldn't allow it.

She couldn't believe that her remaining family, the only hope she could grasp onto and help get her out of the mess....

Was gone, forever vanished from the face of the earth by the same monster who took her away.

She no longer had the physical, mental nor emotional strength to resist and fight anymore.

She allowed her body to succumb to the effects of the drugs, eyes closing as she fell into a deep sleep full of haunting memories and images.

When she awoke hours later, she felt absolutely nothing, only numbness.

Gently stroking her hair, Hongjoong leaned in and scanned her expressionless face, satisfied when she just allowed him to pet her as he pleased, no longer resisting his touch.

"Do you know who you are?" He simply asked her.

Without even so much as blinking, she answered in a monotone, almost robotic voice:

"I'm your soulmate, your muse and your goddess, and I love no one but you."

Hongjoong nearly bursted into tears. Finally after so long, after so many experiments and efforts, he finally created his ultimate masterpiece.

"Perfect......at last...you're absolutely perfect.

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