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my-head-is-an-animal · 1 year

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The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 5 - Dinner

Mycroft allowed her a few days to settle back into her life before phoning one evening to see if she still wanted to have dinner with him.

‘Of course, I’d love to. I’m working the next two nights, but I should be free Thursday.’ She said, enthusiastically.

He could hear the sounds of the busy restaurant she worked in, she’d mentioned something before about working two jobs during the summer, one was a table waiting job at a very classy hotel in Mayfair, and the other was the café in Baker Street where Mrs Hudson had asked if she fancied working mornings over the summer and earn a little extra money. As far as Mycroft could remember, she enjoyed both jobs, never complaining or dwelling on the difficult customers, just getting on with the job she had.

‘Thursday is fine,’ Mycroft sat down at his desk, finishing up for the day. ‘Is seven alright with you?’

‘Yeah, seven is great, just let me know where to meet you.’

‘Or I could send a car.’ Mycroft waited a moment to hear her objection.

‘You know what, screw it, I’ve been working hard, I deserve a little indulgence, right?’

‘Of course, we all need time to relax once in a while.’ Mycroft was glad that he could at least convince her to let him see her safely to the restaurant, anything else would be a bonus. ‘The car will be waiting at six forty-five on the button.’

‘Great. Where are we going so I know what to wear?’ She quickly told someone beyond the phone that she was just about to head back and she wouldn’t be much longer.

‘Well, as per your request, there’s a place on the Marylebone Road that I thought would suit us both rather nicely. Nothing too fancy, not too busy, but has almost anything you could ask for in a restaurant.’ Mycroft hoped he’d chosen well, it was a little higher class than the café she worked in, but it wouldn’t be overwhelmingly fancy.

‘Well, I will trust your judgment, Mr Holmes, I can’t imagine you’d choose anywhere less than adequate.’ That made him chuckle. He heard the sounds of someone shouting for her to help out. ‘I’d best go, they need me on the floor, something about some Russian politician.’

‘Yes, of course. Word to the wise, the politician you are referring to prefers the Dom Perignon Vintage 2003 champagne, if he’s being difficult, a bottle will ease the situation.’ Mycroft remembered an awkward moment a few years back.

‘Oh really? He is being a bit difficult actually. Thanks for the advice.’

‘Anytime. I look forward to Thursday.’

‘Me too.’ It was the widest smile he’d heard since the phone call started.

Mycroft left her to the rest of her shift and prayed she made it home safely as he did every night. Thursday at seven could not come soon enough. He got Anthea to make the arrangements and the look she gave him was not one he appreciated.

‘How would you like me to record it in the diary, sir?’ She said with a hint of glee.

‘Business meeting, what else?’ Mycroft gestured for her to get on with things and leave him be for the remainder of the evening. He wasn’t interested in any of her conclusions that she was probably drawing at that moment.

Mycroft left an hour earlier than he usually would on Thursdays, Anthea didn’t question it, she simply got on with her job of being the gate keeper and kept all visitors out of his office until the following day.

He went home, showered and put on the navy suit he knew Bethany liked. Mycroft kept reminding himself that this wasn’t a date, he didn’t need to impress her, he just needed to be himself and spend time with a friend. He sent a message to Anthea asking only urgent messages make it through to his phone that evening, she obliged and wished him well. He knew she was just being nice, but he’d rather she didn’t know anything at all.

Mycroft checked the time upon arriving at the restaurant, he was five minutes early and thankfully had a couple of emails to check.

‘Mr Holmes.’ The concierge said upon seeing him. ‘Good to see you again, may I take your coat, sir.’ Mycroft was polite enough and handed over his black coat, it was a little warm to be wearing a coat at all, but the night would get cooler soon. ‘We have your table ready, out of the way and quiet as requested. Is there anything else we can do to make your visit any more comfortable, sir?’

He led Mycroft through the restaurant to his usual table. ‘Yes, actually. Miss Wheeler will be joining me tonight, please see to it that she isn’t overwhelmed on her arrival.’

Luckily, the Concierge understood exactly what Mycroft meant and nodded curtly. ‘May I be bold sir, but is Miss Wheeler of particular importance?’

‘Just a friend.’ Mycroft appreciated the delicacy with which he asked the question, though didn’t enjoy being asked.

‘Very good, sir.’ The Concierge gave a slight bow and headed back to the podium while Mycroft got on with any last minute work he had to do.

His usual table was one at the edge of the restaurant in a small booth fit for two people, he didn’t often do business here, it was designed more for more social occasions. Mycroft had chosen this place because he was sure he wouldn’t run into any unsavoury characters, but he could also show Bethany a little of what his lifestyle looked like. He was in a world of his own and barely noticed his favourite wine being brought to the table, when the Concierge caught his attention.

‘Mr Holmes?’

‘Hm? Yes?’ Mycroft looked up to see Bethany smiling down at him.

He was stilled for a moment, just long enough to take her in properly. She wore a mauve, knee length cocktail dress, a conservative v-neck and one that had a little ruffle from the waist down, he imagined she found it a little more freeing that the tighter dress he’d seen her in at the wedding. Her legs slotted elegantly into her simple black heels and she had gone easy with any make up, preferring the natural beauty she had, her freckles were just about visible in the dimmer light of the restaurant and Mycroft suddenly felt nervous. He hadn’t been nervous about anything for a very long time, let alone a single person.

‘Miss Wheeler.’ Mycroft stood to greet her properly, placing a soft kiss to her cheek, inhaling her ginger shampoo and inviting her to sit down opposite him.

‘Oh, come off it, am I ever going to convince you to call me Beth? Even Bethany is better.’ She said, playfully, but taking the seat opposite anyway.

‘Apologies Bethany,’ Mycroft couldn’t stop his smile. She was everything she thought she wasn’t, elegant, pretty and a player to be reckoned with. ‘I will do my best.’

‘You’ve lost weight since I last saw you.’ It meant the world to Mycroft that she noticed.

‘Well, staying in shape has it’s advantages.’ He smiled.

‘Well, you look good.’ She bit her lip teasing him a little and he couldn’t help a small chuckle. ‘Blue suit.’ She pointed out. ‘Nice choice.’

Mycroft was glad that she was able to slide into her comfort zone and start teasing with him right from the start, it gave him hope that she wouldn’t be too overwhelmed by her surroundings. They made idle small talk – something Mycroft usually hated – and he asked her about her time in Austria which meant him watching her smile uncontrollably and tell him epic tales from hiking over mountains, falling down slopes, watching sunrises and sunsets, drinking by a fire and singing songs with her friends whilst constantly getting the words wrong. It also meant he had a chance to observe the way she told stories and perhaps something of an insight into her inner workings.

For the most part, Mycroft couldn’t do anything but listen, where he would normally tune in and out and take in the rest of the person he was with, deducing most of the information by observation only, he was suddenly scared that he would miss something important. She didn’t drink a lot, but two glasses of wine he felt was enough to allow her to relax enough to tell him a little more about her degree and the things she wanted to do with it.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Bethany said, after the waiter, who had been kindly quiet whilst serving them, took their main course plates away. ‘I always wanted to be some kind of forensic scientist, but now I’m not so sure. I might end up working in research at Barts.’

‘Forensic science is a perfectly respectable route,’ Mycroft said, twisting his wine glass between his fingers. ‘What changed your mind?’

‘I’m not sure really,’ Bethany said, leaning on her hand. ‘I suppose I just don’t feel the pull towards it that I once felt. You have to do what makes you happy, right?’

‘Most certainly.’ Mycroft sat up and leaned forward a little as well. ‘So, what makes you happy?’

He saw her dark eyes, blacken momentarily and her cheeks show a light dusting of pink. ‘Well, there’s a question.’ She said, taking a mouthful of wine to cool down somewhat. ‘I suppose travelling makes me happy, I really enjoyed Austria… science makes me happy, it’s straight forward and complex, but there’s so much room for discovery, if that makes any sense.’ She chuckled.

‘It makes perfect sense.’ Mycroft nodded, not being able to take his eyes off of her. ‘Though I suspect you have left something out.’ Her eyes locked with his. ‘A faint redness on your cheeks when I asked and you needed to take a mouthful of wine, presumably to cool down, before answering. So, may I be so bold as to ask what you left out of your answer?’

Bethany tried not to smile too much, instead holding his gaze and her own nerve. ‘I will answer your question, if and only if, you can answer mine.’ Mycroft gave a brief frown, but gestured for her to ask. ‘I see a very, very thin ring of blue in your eyes, pupils fully dilated and you haven’t stopped smiling since I arrived. Mycroft Holmes, do you like me more than you’re letting on?’

Mycroft was a little taken back, he’d never been looked at so closely before, not by a woman anyway and not by someone he wasn’t sure he wanted looking at him that closely. He swallowed nervously which was enough to confirm her suspicions.

‘My position does not afford me the opportunity to indulge in many occasions such as these,’ Mycroft said, not breaking the eye contact. ‘But I have made the effort to spend this evening with you. Tell me, what can we deduce about that?’

Bethany chuckled. ‘Most people would just confess.’

‘Yes, but as has been long since established, I’m not most people.’

‘No, you are not.’

It was a moment where they simply watched each other, waiting for the next move to be made, when something very unexpected happened.

‘Mycroft?’

He knew that voice and felt his whole being groan with disappointment. He prayed that Bethany would either not be noticed or be smart enough to remain quiet.

‘Lady Smallwood.’ Mycroft said, standing up and holding his hand up to indicate for Bethany to remain seated, which thankfully she did.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’ She said, her husband standing just behind her out of the way. ‘My office tried to call you tonight, we have things to discuss and you’re aware of the timescale we have with which to work with.’

‘Yes, but it’s nothing that cannot wait until the morning,’ he tried so hard to be polite. ‘No one is going to make a move for at least thirty-six hours and therefore we have time to assess the situation and we should do so methodically. We can’t rush this.’

‘No, I suppose you’re right.’ She admitted and Mycroft hoped she’d move along, but she definitely landed her gaze on Bethany and her expression said it all. ‘Well, well, aren’t you going to introduce us to your dinner guest, Mycroft?’

He really didn’t want to, but in the interest of civility, he didn’t have much choice.

‘Of course, this is Miss Bethany Wheeler.’ Mycroft held his hand out for Bethany to use to help herself up, her hand was warm and soft and for a moment Mycroft didn’t want to let go. ‘Miss Wheeler, this is Lady Smallwood, though I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that.’

‘Pleasure to meet you, Lady Smallwood.’ Bethany said, politely. Somehow Mycroft’s hand had found it’s way to the small of her back, the curve of her spine was making him feel warm and he had no explanation as to why.

‘And you, Miss Wheeler.’ Mycroft knew that look and this was either about to go very wrong very quickly, or Bethany would surprise him. ‘And what’s your relation to our Mr Holmes?’

‘My relation?’ Bethany frowned. ‘I’m just a friend catching up on a few things. I apologise that I took Mr Holmes away from what seem to be important matters this evening, but I do hope you enjoyed yourself nonetheless.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Well, I just notice that you’re on your way out the door, not in.’ Bethany had a very good poker face and if it had not have been for Mycroft spending the last hour and half watching her intently, he would have been fooled by her innocence as well. ‘Which means you can’t have tried very hard to get in contact with Mr Holmes, so I just assumed that after finding out that he was unavailable, you decided to spend what was eventually a free evening in the company of your husband, which is lovely, it’s good to make time for the people we deem important.’

Lady Smallwood just watched her, slightly baffled. ‘What was it you did again?’

‘Oh, I’m just a friend of Mr Holmes.’ Bethany was very good and Mycroft couldn’t help but be impressed by her.

‘I’m sure you are.’ Lady Smallwood decided against asking her to be more specific. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow Mycroft.’

‘Of course, I’ll set up a meeting for the afternoon once I’ve had time to look over the details.’ Mycroft smiled and watched the Smallwoods leave the restaurant. ‘Nicely played.’ He said, quietly and close to Bethany. He could once again smell her wonderfully, warming ginger shampoo.

‘That’s years of waiting table for difficult politicians finally paying off.’ She chuckled and Mycroft gestured for them to sit down again. Hating having to take his hand away from her back, he missed the contact.

‘I see your skills in negotiation rival the government’s,’ Mycroft smiled, enjoying where they were heading back to. ‘I should offer you a position in my office.’

‘Oh please, you think the government would hire a big anarchist like me?’

‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Mycroft conceded. ‘Maybe I will need to reconsider putting surveillance on you after all.’

Bethany laughed and once again it ignited Mycroft.

‘So, what’s the deal with Lady Smallwood?’ She suddenly asked, making Mycroft frown. ‘Well, it’s obvious she fancies you.’

‘Obvious?’ Mycroft said, slightly alarmed. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well, she was furious that you’re having dinner with me,’ Bethany chuckled. ‘She basically ignored her husband and she was well within two feet of you when she first approached. Does she do that normally?’ Mycroft thought for a moment and the silence confirmed Bethany’s suspicions. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. She definitely has a thing for you.’

‘She’s married.’

‘Well, you should know that especially when working in government, it’s not likely to stop people seeking an affair.’ Bethany was revealing a whole new stream of ideas that Mycroft had never considered before. ‘Personally, I think it’s all about the thrill.’

‘The thrill?’ Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

‘The thrill of getting caught.’ Bethany nodded, finishing her wine. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never even thought about it? The possibility that someone could find you attractive enough to want to have an illicit love affair with you.’

If Mycroft was entirely honest with himself, someone finding him attractive full stop was a far off dream he’d never really entertained.

‘No,’ he shook his head, looking down a little ashamed. ‘The thought never occurred to me.’

Bethany didn’t look at him with any pity, instead she was still smiling. ‘You know, I think you are one of the most surprising and enigmatic men I have ever met, and I hang around with your brother.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, I thought at first you were just a fancy, posh boy,’ she made him chuckle a little. ‘Someone who lacked any sense of compassion as per the rules of working in government, but it’s become very clear that there is more to you than a good suit.’

‘Are you telling me you see through my ties? Because that would ruin my reputation.’

Bethany laughed once again. ‘Oh, I’m starting to see you a little clearer that’s all. What does that do for your reputation?’

Mycroft thought for a moment. ‘I’m sure it would utterly destroy it.’ They sat in silence for a moment longer, before Mycroft needed her to talk some more, anything to clear his mind from where it was heading. ‘Tell me what else makes you happy?’

She smiled, biting her lip once again and Mycroft let the idle thought of his own teeth grazing her lips pass through his mind.

‘I suppose just the usual things,’ she shrugged, leaning on her arms on the table and pushing her chest up unconsciously, he was certain she wasn’t doing it intentionally, but it was having a slight effect on him. ‘Music, reading, films. What about you? What do you do in whatever spare time you get?’

Mycroft took a breath and looked up as if thinking on the question. ‘I’m afraid I don’t get a lot of spare time, but when I do, classic film noir is my usual activity of choice.’

‘Film noir?’ She seemed surprised. ‘Black and white films about sexy detective and damsels in distress. Well, that is not what I thought you’d say at all. I bet you have a fancy cinema room.’

Mycroft grinned. ‘I prefer a projector.’

‘Really? With real film roll?’

‘Of course.’ Mycroft nodded, finding it interesting how much she was genuinely interested in his projector. ‘How else would I get the full effect?’

‘Well, indeed.’ She flirted a little, making him feel the need to loosen his tie. ‘What’s your favourite film?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t narrow it down to one.’

‘You have that many rolls of film and a big enough collection that you cannot pick a single one as your favourite?’

‘Afraid so.’ He said and then did something tremendously out of character. ‘I could show you, if it was of interest to you?’

‘Mycroft, are you inviting me back to yours?’

‘The night is still young, Miss Wheeler. There’s still time to drive you home, I assure you.’

Mycroft didn’t want her to think that this was anything more than him simply sharing something he enjoyed and Bethany seemed to understand that. She wasn’t expecting anything. He paid the bill and they left the restaurant, taking his usual black town car back to his home.

Mycroft hadn’t seen her enter the restaurant, but her grey coat only made her look taller and more slender, something he didn’t realise he appreciated so much, but it made her look like something out of one of his films.

When she sat next to him in the car, he noticed a cut just above her knee, without even thinking, he asked about it, his finger landing just at the edge of the cut and on her incredibly soft and smooth skin.

‘Oh, it’s from where I fell down one of the slopes,’ she said, not bothering to move his hand away. ‘It goes up quite far actually, but it doesn’t hurt that much, more irritating than anything.’

Mycroft took his hand away and smiled. He proceeded to ask her about where she had fallen and if she at least enjoyed the view, which she was much more enthusiastic about.

They made it back to his home and she teased him about living in a small castle, he didn’t think his home was that large, but she quickly reminded him that she was essentially living in a house the size of his reception with four other people, size was relative.

Mycroft gave her a quick tour, taking note of the fact that she thought his house was huge so probably looking in the spare rooms wasn’t that important.

‘You have a suit of armour in your gym?’ She exclaimed, laughing.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ He sighed, but still had a smile on his face.

‘Nothing, it’s just very you.’ Bethany gestured for him to continue and eventually they ended up in his home cinema.

Mycroft took her coat and hung both his and hers up in the corner. He showed her his collection behind some sliding doors that sat to the left of the room and asked her to pick one.

‘What? Any one at all?’ Bethany had a hint of amazement.

‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ Mycroft headed into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and some more wine along with two glasses. By the time he’d returned, she’d only made it a third of the way across his collection. ‘Anything catch your eye?’ He asked, approaching behind her and once again inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

‘A couple of them,’ her head turned just slightly when he realised how close he was standing, her voice was a little lower. ‘I’ve always wanted to see The Lady From Shanghai.’

‘A worthy selection.’ Mycroft smiled, he could see her eyes were entirely black, but he was unsure of how to react. He cleared his throat and avoided doing what he wanted to do.

‘Let’s watch that then.’ Bethany saved them both the embarrassment.

Mycroft took his suit jacket off and gestured for her to sit down on his two-seater and make herself comfortable. Bethany watched him loosen his tie and start setting up for the film.

‘What made you get a projector then?’ She asked. He noticed she was watching him carefully, each movement he made under her gaze and he honestly didn’t mind.

‘Well, a few things, but I suppose a concise answer would be because I wanted one.’ He raised his eyebrows playfully.

‘Oh, I see, so whatever the British Government wants, he gets.’

‘Precisely.’ Mycroft had never winked at a single person in his life, but it felt natural when he did it to Bethany, like she was the only person worthy of such a thing.

He listened to her laughing and finished setting up. Bethany reached up to turn off the lights, handed him another glass of wine and finally he settled next to her. Mycroft was suddenly aware that he’d just sat down close to her body and put his arm behind her, crossing his legs. He wasn’t touching her or behaving in any inappropriate manner, but it certainly felt intimate and it was slightly confusing for a moment.

Mycroft settled and eventually they were able to enjoy the film. It wasn’t especially long, but he noticed Bethany was enthralled nonetheless, she loved the film and that on its own had made the whole night worth it.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, just observing her curiously, watching every little reaction she had to the film, he’d never sat and watched a film with anyone before, save for when he was a child. He liked it when he could see her getting entirely absorbed in the film and her face would relax and work of it’s own accord, the small smiles tugging at her soft lips, her eyebrows knitting together displaying sympathy or confusion and her breathing adjusting to each line indicating how she connected to it. A stunning display of human emotion that Mycroft was more than willing to observe.

Bethany finished her glass of wine, setting it down on the table next to her and when she leaned back, he could feel her warm body pressing gently into his. The weight was welcomed and even craved on his part.

‘Sorry.’ She smiled gently, about to move a little away from him.

‘It’s fine.’ Mycroft blurted out, realising that he showed himself a little more than comfortable with the contact. Bethany picked up on it straight away and smiled again, settling closer against him, her knees pulled up to her chest and he could smell the intoxicating scent of her shampoo once again.

By the time the film was finished, Mycroft was in a state of blurred bliss. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted to remain pressed against Bethany, to actually be able to hold her would be a sublime privilege that he felt entirely unworthy of.

‘What did you think?’ Mycroft asked, almost pressed his mouth into her soft, frizzy hair. He wondered if it was the wild nature of her looks that he liked, a complete contrast to the neat and rigid surroundings he usually associated himself with.

‘Of the film? Or everything else?’ She asked, her voice taking on as equally as low tone. It was only then that Mycroft realised his hand, that had been previously resting on the back of his two-seater, was now stroking her soft skin on her arm.

‘I apologise.’ He said, removing his hand and feeling rather embarrassed at his actions. He was about to get up and put everything away when she stopped him.

‘Why are you sorry, Mycroft?’ It was the way her lips wrapped around his name that had his whole body weakening.

‘I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’ Mycroft swallowed thickly.

There was just something about the way she was looking at him that told him that he had no reason to apologise. She had a faint smile playing on her lips and Mycroft couldn’t help but watch her, take in every detail of her face. Without even noticing, he’d somehow shifted closer, foreheads almost touching, he could smell ginger, her hand found his, her fingers tracing his palm and soon she was guiding his hand up to her jaw.

Mycroft had so little experience in this area, but he knew how to read people and how to figure out what they wanted quickly and precisely. On this occasion, Mycroft felt patience was a virtue, he couldn’t rush anything or move with any hint of uncertainty on her part. He traced the tips of his fingers across her jaw line, taking careful note of the change in her breathing, it was now shallow and quicker. His thumb grazed over her bottom lip, just feeling the softness and hearing the soft sigh of pleasure that came from her throat, it was everything Mycroft had wanted to hear.

He swallowed nervously, but could no longer bring himself to resist. Mycroft slid his thumb away to her warm cheek, the tips of his fingers pressing gently into her hairline, something he hadn’t realised would affect her so much. Her eyes were closed and he took one last moment to take a mental screenshot, he would burn it into his mind forever and always remember it as the happiest he’d ever felt.

Mycroft finally moved his mouth close to hers, feeling her breath against him, his lips grazed hers and another soft sigh could be heard. He added the pressure they both sorely needed and suddenly he could feel his whole body reacting, her hands had found their way to his chest, half pulling him closer towards her, half uncertain.

Mycroft slid his mouth over hers, feeling a small wave of confidence hit him as his tongue came out to swipe along her lip, she let out another sigh and he couldn’t resist gently dragging his teeth along the same lip she had teased him with for so long. He heard his own sigh of relief that, yes, it was as good as he hoped it would be. Bethany was beautiful in every sense and this was all the confirmation he needed to know that he’d fallen for her.

Time seemed to escape Mycroft, but the ache of his body did not. All that could be heard was those wonderful soft sighs that he was responsible for forcing from her, and that of the film roll running out on the projector. He hadn’t dared go too far, but just kissing her lightly, passionately, greedily and tenderly was a pleasure he hadn’t known he needed.

Mycroft slowed his movements and felt the instant disappointment in her.

‘I…’ he started, panting slightly and hearing the cracking of his own voice. ‘I haven’t done this for a while.’ He said, still kissing her between sentences, he just couldn’t get enough. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.’

Mycroft kissed her again, but this time felt her smiling. ‘We don’t have to do anything else, Mycroft.’ Her voice was silky and soft and he desperately wanted her. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

He couldn’t help his chuckle. ‘I think you underestimate how much I want to.’ He was glad he could make her chuckle as well. ‘Tell me what to do.’ He breathed, kissing her lightly, just savouring the taste of her for a few moments longer.

‘What do you want to do?’

‘I want you.’ Mycroft responded almost instinctively. He heard her suck in a harsh breath, the indication that she wanted him as well, but still he hesitated.

Bethany’s hand pressed against his chest, telling him to take a moment to stop. ‘Mycroft, there’s no shame in not being ready. I can wait.’ She said, placing her own kiss on his lips. Until that moment, he’d been kissing her, but the simple act of her returning the gesture was enough to satisfy him completely.

Her fingers found the small patch of chest hair that always stuck out from his shirt collar, he was often embarrassed by it, but somehow when she touched him like that, the delicacy, it was everything to him. She moved up his neck and gently caressed the back of his neck, pulling him into one last kiss.

Mycroft hummed against her and felt the reaction of her body lifting up a little. He wished he could have found the courage to simply have what he wanted, but somehow the first night they went to dinner and he truly got to know her, ending up kissing her for the first time on his two-seater in the middle of his projector room, this wasn’t the way he wanted to be with her.

Bethany smiled against him again, knowingly.

‘I’m sorry.’ Mycroft whispered, but she wasn’t in the slightest bit disappointed with him, Bethany just kissed him softly again and they remained close until he realised how late it was. ‘I should take you home.’ He said.

Bethany opened her eyes, having nearly fallen asleep so close to him. Part of him wished she did so that he could watch her resting peacefully, but then again, he would only have been tempted to take her to bed with him.

Mycroft got them both up and continued to be the gentleman he was, holding her coat for her, opening the car door and never overstepping the boundary that had now been placed between them. The car ride was a little more awkward than he had intended, but Bethany just smiled at him and made him feel more relaxed. She reached across and held his hand when it was clear he was slightly tense, something he hadn’t known he needed until she did it.

‘I apologise that tonight did not end on a high note.’ He said as they pulled into the darkened street that she lived on.

‘I don’t know, it ended pretty well if you ask me.’ That gorgeous smile was back and Mycroft felt settled once again. ‘You don’t need to keep apologising, Mycroft. You just need to be yourself.’ She leaned over and placed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Let me know if you want to do this again sometime, until then, try not to cause too much trouble.’ Bethany winked at him and never had he felt so calm around another person.

‘I could say the same to you.’ Mycroft shot back. ‘Goodnight, Bethany.’

‘Goodnight, Mycroft.’ She smiled and got out of the car, heading inside her home.

Mycroft was driven back to his house and his driver left in a slightly annoyed mood, but it really wasn’t Mycroft’s main concern at that moment. He was replayed the night in his head over and over again, more specifically, he was remembering the feel of Bethany’s lips against his and the regret he felt at doing nothing more than that.

He went to bed a little frustrated, but happy nonetheless.

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nebulaleaf · 1 year

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goodbye persona 5 royal. after 121 hours (140 on my switch profile) i got 69% of thieves den achievements, 99% in the compendium, and took 910 switch screenshots (third sem having a recording block really cucked me fr.) I think I did as much as i possibly could. despite my gripes this was my most fulfilling playthrough i've ever done of P5. i have a lot of bad things to say about royal but i really did have so much fun with it. getting excited over the new moves with the grappling hook (guessing where the cutscene would be and having fun being technical with chains de hook), making more strategic personas with fusion alarms, using all that extra time p5r gives as efficiently as possible. I loved maruki's confidant even if it ended in a kind of mediocre palace. he's just a fun guy who's so naturally inserted into the story it feels like he Should've always been there (except for the end). though its a shame because of how his confidant is structured in terms of topics, you cant easily insert it into p5 (its basically just a huge foreshadowing/ general set-up for the themes of 3rd sem). akechi's though... akechi's confidant and the addition of kichioji was WONDERFUL and i'd have killed for it in vanilla. im so glad for it. its such a fun place to explore and i love all the new npcs; penguin sniper was fun to play (though i hate playing with akechi, esp because its useless to) and jazzjin's gameplay elements were REAL FUN TO MAKE BUSTED ASS TEAMMATES WITH. no more what-ifs is also... a good song. i think i might even add it to my personal faves playlist. i'll have to sit down and listen to the ost when i don't have a headache. anyway there's probably a lot more good things i can say, but my head is kind of muddled rn lol. that post-game feeling fr.

ahh, but even when it comes down to the bad, like kasumi-- groaning every time she came on screen was fun in its own way too; whether it was laughing at the hilarity of it or coming to tumblr and grumbling about it with whoever was following along with my posts that day. honestly i just wish they tried a little harder with her and we got to know *sumire* instead of kasumi a little more. reading the interview where the devs admitted to her just being a marketing ploy and how they treated her as such really is crushing. its kind of a reflection of royal as a whole in a way to me. care *was* put in; i can see the heart behind a lot of this, but it's more focused on being flashy and appealing to those who missed the first wave of p5dom; or trying to draw back in those who have already played. which... is the point of a video game definitive edition, but kind of ironic when presented against the morals p5 seems to stand for. (or tries to, anyway. corporate meddling and cultural norms... this is still a video game that needs to sell.) i know i shouldn't treat silly anime game #685 that lets you date a maid-teacher as an 'art form' but i always felt p5 had a pretty solid and profound message. so to see royal trample p5 vanilla and then dance around wearing its skin is... certainly something. i know they're technically the same game, so royal has those messages too, but they get all tied up in the new stuff that royal brings forth (and doesn't deliver on. lmao. lol) on top of the already shaky at times writing p5 came with. i guess what im just trying to say is that royal's content is good... but it's being too much. and that just makes me really, really sad. despite all that, royal still kind of rekindled my love for p5 that was already present. every new playthrough for me lets me look deeper into what i like or neat details i missed; seriously i always find something new when i come back to this game. but this was especially true in royal. i found myself noticing when the tiniest detail was changed and it was always fun to compare them, even if it devolved into a tangent. i really only am disappointed like this just because I love persona 5 as a whole *so much*. its everything to me, so i want it to be the best it can be, yknow? anyway, thanks persona 5 royal. you've been a journey in multiple ways. try as i might, i won't forget you.

#nebroyale

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mindgazer · 2 years

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Two short years has passed and as the year of 2022 is drawing to a close I just have to say things have changed quite a bit.

I finally got a job. A job that pays more than minimum wage. Not sure how I would’ve survived on 7.25 even if I was full time (being a college student made working full time impossible for me). I work at a call center now rather than the college bookstore in my hometown. It comes with its own set of pros and cons.

Pro being I work from home which in this pandemic is perfect. I refuse to work customer service and deal with a million and one nasty germy people all day. I can stay in the comfort of my own home to ensure my health and my mom as well.

Con being that working full time means I’m working 5 days a week for 8 hours to equal a 40 hour work week. Perhaps that wouldn’t be bad but I’m stuck in a permanent morning shift and I hate mornings. I feel so exhausted at the end of the day.

Sure I’m not standing on my feet listening to customers and ringing up overpriced books all or forced to work the store on game days but sitting and being on the phone hearing a million different voices all day is still tiresome. Each day I get off I don’t want to be bothered until I’ve decompressed in my room with the lights off. It’s hard to have energy to do things I like as well as essential tasks such as eating dinner and showering after work. The idea of using my days off for anything other than staying in bed sickens me and so far when I’ve had to do something I’ve hated it. And being an adult and having a full time job as opposed to the balancing act I was doing in college means working holidays. I miss a holiday feeling like holiday. I was so bitter I had to work on thanksgiving the hell ppl are calling in on thanksgiving? I have to work Christmas Eve but luckily Christmas Day. I can still enjoy some holiday. I requested an extra day off just to give me some breathing room. But I miss college bc I was literally off for nearly a month and with no other responsibilities during they time I would just relax at home.

It’s a bit intimidating getting more into adult life. I feel so behind knowing my peers and those younger than me have it together. A job in their field after college, already married and/or starting families, living on their own and not at their parents house. I’ll be 30 next year and it feels like I’m only dipping my toes in and I have floaties on. I know comparing myself to others is not helpful but my mind does stray there often. I wish to have my own place and finally own a cat or two and have the space and funds to collect anime merch and display everything proudly. But a part of me likes the convenience and comfort staying home with mom brings me. But she won’t be around forever I need to be on my own feet. Trying to dig deep trying to push back the discomfort of waking up early every morning and the phone jitters I get every morning before starting. Trying to find the motivation to get to that point. For now I’m saving my paychecks and getting my savings built up. I can’t make any move without money. One day I’ll look back at this and smile knowing this is worth it.

#mindgazer unlock

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starryflix · 2 years

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Teachers

The 26th of November, 2022

So, how to explain to people that a good one and a half year after graduating high school you are still in contact with your old mentor? That is most definitely the case for me. We (kinda, I am only home on the weekends) live in the same town, not all that far from another, but it's not like I come from a small village at all. It's not all that common to keep that good of contact with an old teacher.

I ran into her yesterday and she seemed really happy to see me, as I had spend an entire year abroad and have now moved 3 hours away for my studies. She then asked me if I'd like to join her and her wife and kids for a walk with lights for a Dutch children's holiday.

I talked with her a while during the walk, and am, just like last summer with all of my friends actually, been invited to stop by for tea another time to catch up in a more convenient setting. I will get back to her later.

I have a handful of teachers during my 16 years in the school system that have been of great importance for who I am as today and it has furthered my ideas that schools and teachers can actually leave a good and big impact on the next generation if they really wish to do so. Good teachers truly care about their students.

The first two teachers to achieve this were my year 5 (I think if translated to the English/American system? It's 'groep 7' in the Dutch system.) and year 6 (Groep 8) teachers. My 5th grade teacher is the one that pushed my drawing and once told me I would be a writer one day. 10 year old me called him crazy but he did turn out to be right.

I am writing and planning an entire Fantasy Novel.

Whenever I went back to visit my primary school for several reasons, one of which being picking up my younger sibling, he always asked me to see my drawings and showed them to his students. They were apparently always so impressed that I even got asked to give a few guest lessons where I tought them to draw. This actually continued on even after his retirement with my year 6 teacher, another one of great importance as she always felt generally so safe and calm, someone who gave me the same support as the year 5 one. Most of the trouble started when I was 9, but even before that I dealt a lot with being excluded and left out, and thus these two teachers gave me the first bout of confidence in my own abilities and naturally saw my interests in art, writing and teaching and instead of berating me for practicing them they supported me. 10-11 year old me needed that confidence a lot. They gave me extra tips and tricks and opportunities to utilise my talents. Every time I hesitated if I should just quit or give up I could hear their voices in the back of my mind pushing me forwards.

Then came my first year of high school which was hell. The teachers were not understanding at all, I had just started topsport and I was 11-almost-12 and struggling. I was young, I admit. The Dutch schooling system also does not know a middle school so it was a large leap and I felt unsupported through the entirety of it. Never mind being actually bullied there for not being 'normal' and for apparently underachieving even when I got a passing grade.

It took a lot of my energy and when I finally decided to switch schools a lot of me had been lost to insecurity and fear.

Insert my theater and history teacher of my second and third years. (year 8 and 9 for the american system)

My theatre teacher helped me find a passion through the arts again, as did a large part of the art department. I was pushed to do what I enjoyed and to stop caring about others. It helped me along greatly. Then came my third year of high school, the most traumatic year of my life and details be damned my mother got diagnosed with cancer for the third time and was sure not to survive. Bless my history teacher and mentor of that year for the way he handled it. 2016-17, a godawful year that he helped me through swimmingly. He made it easy for me to communicate with him, he supported and talked with me whenever needed and made sure to also care for the communication with the other teachers and the higher ups. He has supported me more than I can ever put to words, also in the change from lower-high school to higher-high school. The transition from year 3 to 4, with completely new teachers and a new mentor went also so swift due to his tenacity and care and I will forever be thankful for my theater and history teacher for caring so much. They even went to my mother's funeral as to support me a little, since they seemed aware I took a great deal of strength from their support. They went beyond what they were expected to do. Beyond what anyone expects of a school, of teachers. Yet they were there to help me. I was 13 and 14 at the time and this was the external support I was missing, they filled in where friends were supposed to be. Friends I didn't have.

I just want to make a really clear note that everything of course went within professional boundaries and never once was there any question of anything else or other intent. With recent stories and such surfacing I want to clarify that none of that was the case. I have multiple witnesses and friends, among family and my father to contest to this. They were all parental figures in a sense.

Another teacher important in my third year was my English teacher, English teacher M. (as the other one, my mentor S, is the other one that's important haha... Gay kids and English teachers.. I guess.)

M was super sweet and by doing a very simple thing helped me immensely. It's hard for a lot of people that knew me around that time to fathom me flunking my English class, but I went from a 4 to a 9 within a year all because M realised that learning simple grammar wasn't working for me. In turn she told me I could neglect some of my homework and I should just start writing. There it is again; writing apparently a magic word. I would write something and she would read it and correct any mistakes. This way I learned a lot more than by simply following the lessons.

Then onto two of the most important teachers I ever had in my life. L, my social sciences teacher and mentor and S, the mentor and English teacher mentioned earlier and at the beginning. L and S, as it turned out, are also best friends. I didn't know this until like three years into meeting both of them.

They kind of became mother figures after my mother passed away. Just two adults I looked up. L had studied psychology and it's thanks to her I opened up and started talking and didn't hesitate to search for professional help. She asked me the right questions when I didn't even know myself. I was known to omit the actual answer and answer with facts whenever someone asked if I was okay and L was the best in figuring out how to actually get me to talk. S came later and took over from L. But both never stopped making sure I was doing alright, mentally and in the educational sense. I wish I could honestly put into words what they did for me, how important they still are even if I left the school two years ago. These two... truly. What I said before of the teachers from my second high school going beyond, these two went so far and were so important and intertwined with my last four years (I had to resit my 5th year, again 11th in the american system) and stood up for me and guided me whenever I struggled. When S was diagnosed with cancer she cared more about me than some (in my opinion) more important people, she notified my dad of the news beforehand, before telling it to me, to make sure he could support me and knew what was going on, she asked him if it would be better to tell me earlier or to tell me with the rest of the class. She told our mentor class before informing some of her colleagues. At that point in time only her direct family and the directors of the school knew about it. And I was next on that list of important people. It still baffles me, and I still want to sometimes hit her upside the head for taking care of me before anything else.

L, at this point in time, had already silently taken over mentorship for me. And S kept repeating that she understood if I liked to have L more as a mentor than her multiple times, while in all reality both were kind of accidentally doing the same things anyway. These two cared about me when it seemed no one else (besides my family) did and helped me ground myself, find myself on my feet again.

L once asked me if I thought I wouldn't have run into mental problems sans my mother anyway. It was a 'what if?' question but she poised a point that was important. I was dealing with more than just grief at the same time. And L and S helped me through all of it, whether direct or indirect. When I started to (more openly) struggle with my sexuality and gender, but also confidence and finding my footing and finding friends, these two were there to help me figure out any doubts. Specifically because while I knew my dad would be accepting it wouldn't have been the same, and coming out to him was really scary. There is honestly so so much to say and tell about these two incredible human beings. It just makes me look up to them that much more.

Teachers, and just in general role models in life, can leave such a big and positive impact behind. It seems a little silly in hindsight, penning this down, knowing damn well my experience is a special case and an odd one, but it shows in a hyperbole the impact someone can have on someone else's life even by being simply sweet and accepting. To just simply support someone and someone's interests.

Coming back on S, I sometimes truly miss seeing her face at school everyday. But I also know that I will always be welcome to stop by for a cup of tea and a chat. Even if it's been years.

S is someone who might give a little too much of her self for the sake of others, one day I just hope I can return her a favour. She means a lot to me.

I think a lot of my inspiration comes from the people I have met and their stories. I think a lot of our inspiration comes from our experiences of meeting other people. And it's rather fascinating.

#Felix' Blog (a collection tag)#personal thoughts #teachers #school

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krolich · 4 years

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I'm gonna retell the Kyoshi books to my artist girlfriend till I get some fanart

#she draws a shitton of silmallirion even tho she's never read it #i have hope #i wish I had like extra 5 hours every day to draw #but rn it's not on my priority list

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mintmatcha · 4 years

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ukai keishin - grumpy

amy!!!! ty so much for the request- i really admire your writing and i hope you like this!!!]

Summary: just a snapshot of your relationship with keishin

Contains: NFSW, 18+, no reader pronouns, reader has a vagina, new relationship/established relationship, soft smut, slight mention of relationship issues.

ukai x reader

word count: 4k

cross posted: ao3

The woody vine digs into the pad of your thumb as you pluck another pepper. The repetition has dug a noticeable indentation into the skin, one that makes you wince every time you harvest a vegetable. In the low light of pre-dawn, sun still tucked behind the mountains, you can't see the bruising on your fingers, but you can feel how it pulses. Popping the digit into your mouth, the warmth of your tongue is automatically soothing, so much so that you can ignore the soft taste of soil on your skin.

“I told you to bring gloves.” Keishin chides, barely looking up at you. He’s squatted a couple feet away, elbows resting on his thighs as he works. The rubber boots, with his oversized overalls crammed into the top, squeak every time he shifts. Pick, squeak, pick, squeak. You open your mouth to tease him, but the way his eyes meet yours, steeled and firm, tell you he’s not in the mood. Cinching his teeth around the worn leather, he pulls his hand from the glove and leaves it dangling from his mouth, lips curled to avoid touching the dust directly. Even in his goofy attire, there’s something about his focus- the downward cast of his eyes, the hint of his canine over the leather, the steadiness of his hands- that makes your heart flutter. Wordlessly, he takes the glove out of his mouth and tosses it your way. You catch it with a fumble.

“Are you sure?” you ask as you pull it on. The tips of the glove gap above your fingertips, bending outward as you clench your fist. “What about you?”

He shrugs and returns to work. Even in the darkness you can see his scowl. “I guess I’m not as delicate as you.”

You didn’t blame him. He doesn’t mean to be this… grumpy. This was the worst time of year for Keishin; harvest season overlapped with volleyball preliminaries. The late nights he had been pulling with the team after work on top of these early mornings at his family’s farm had to be draining. It was no wonder that date nights had become nearly nonexistent. It didn’t help that your work schedule often led to you working on the weekends, meaning that between the two of you there were no free days. Sleepovers are far and few between; both of you still live at home and, despite the fact you are both well into your twenties, your parents weren’t too keen on your sleeping next to someone while unwed. No free days, no free nights.

Again, you didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he was trying to avoid you, three jobs was a lot for anyone. It was hard to ignore your concern for his well-being, but he was always quick to dismiss your worries. ‘I’m an adult.’ he always insisted. ‘I can balance myself.’

Was it selfish to miss him? Was it selfish to wish there was an extra hour in his day for you?

“You didn’t have to come.” Ukai says, matter-of-fact. “You should be sleeping right now.”

“I want to be here.” you insist. It’s almost a lie. Do you really want to be here, squatting in the dirt, picking vegetables at 5:30am? Of course not, but you wanted to be here for him. With him.

The metal thermos at your feet wobbles as you adjust, the deep squat you’ve been sitting in starting to ache deep in your thighs. Dropping forward onto your knees, the gravel of the path digging into your kneecaps, you wrap your hands around the metal, pressing it against your chest to feel the ambient warmth. The blonde doesn’t turn from his work, but he does tilt his head towards you, a small sign of his attention.

“You gonna hold it or drink it?’

You huff before taking a delicate sip, trying to avoid burning your lips. “I’m savoring it, ‘Shin.”

“ ‘Savoring it.’ ” he repeats. The grit of sleep still clings to his voice. He sounds weathered, tired. “Are you gonna let me ‘savor’ some of that?”

“Maybe.” you take another sip before placing the cup back down, this time closer to him, a silent invitation. It’s like trying to feed a stray cat, luring him in with the promise of something tasty. “If you’re good.”

A long moment passes and he doesn’t move, he just studies you. There may have been a flicker of a smile, a hint of a good mood hiding underneath the surface, but it's gone before you can process it.

“You know.” he says, “I don’t know how you do it.” he continues working with bare hands and, even without protection, he works so much faster than you. You can tell he’s been doing this for years; every twist of his wrist seems practiced. It’s something you try and emulate each time you’re here with him, but it only slows you down more.

“Do what?”

Keishin finally stops. He chews his cheek for a moment, eyes flickering across your features. He opens his mouth, then shuts it with a sigh as he weakly gestures to the thermos at your feet. “The coffee. How do you make the coffee?”

You can’t help but sigh as you fall back onto your seat. You cross your legs as you grab the thermos, taking a deep pull. Again, you savor it with a hum and Keishin snorts at your antics. He picks from the row of plants once more before standing. Hands on the back of his pelvis, he stretches slowly, popping his back with the same care an old man would. It reminds you of his grandfather, but you keep that remark to yourself.

“ ‘Shin, you make yourself coffee every day- probably the same way I do.” you say as he plops himself next to you. The cup is already waiting for him when he reaches for it.

“But yours is always better.” he doesn’t say it with the sweetness of a compliment- he says it like a fact. It shouldn’t make you smile this wide, but it does. He blows over the lid of the mug, watching the steam twist into the air for a moment before taking a drink. It was your coffee, but you had made it for him- just a splash of cream, a crazy amount of sugar: just the way he likes it. The crinkle at the corner of his eye as drinks tells you that he notices.

“Are you savoring it?” you ask. He just closes his eyes and sighs.

"I guess I am."

Even without looking, his pinky finds yours, looping together gently. It's the gloveless hand, finding yours. Bare skin against bare skin, warmth against warm. Your body prickles with warmth as he squeezes; something about him pulling you closer, even if it’s just a finger’s width closer, makes your heart jump. It’s funny how the smallest gesture makes you melt. Keishin didn’t always have a lot to give you; your relationship was a collection of these small moments together, settled between his jobs and yours, but it was enough.

Every moment together is restorative.

“Cinnamon.” you press a kiss into his shoulder as you snag your cup back. He peeks at you through one open eye, “I put cinnamon in the coffee.”

Keishin leans into you, resting his head against your shoulder. He nuzzles into your sleeve, drawing in a deep breath, before pulling away to sit up straight again. Reaching back into the row of plants before you, he plucks one carefully before dropping it into the bucket. “Nah, that’s not it.”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

“Nah. It’s because it’s made with love.” he smirks.

You pretend to think for a moment. "Actually, I didn't make this cup with love- so you're wrong."

He rolls his head back to watch you. "Oh yeah?"

"I made it with hate."

"Really." he tilts his body, chest pressed against your shoulder.

"You didn’t taste my loathing?" you tease.

The tip of his nose grazes your ear, nudging you softly. His breath warms the side of your face, lips just a moment from your skin. He’s patient, waiting for you to come to him. You try and resist for just a moment, but he nudges you with a huff.

You can’t help but crumble.

There’s a hint of a chuckle as you finally turn to meet his lips. The kiss is off center, connecting at the corner of your mouth. You try to pull back to correct it when a leathered hand grips on to your jaw and he holds your face steady, squishing your lips with sheer force. Ukai doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping your lower lip before dipping into your mouth. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon, sweet and bitter. With every movement, he savors you, pulling you deeper and deeper until the both of you are twisted into each other's embrace.

When he pulls away, it’s too soon. It’s not until he’s panting against you that you realize your own lungs are burning for air, almost as if your hunger for him had outweighed your need to breathe.

He hums thoughtfully. “I dunno, tastes like love to me.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back your smirk as you lean in for another kiss. “God, you’re the worst, Shin.”

This time, he doesn’t connect. Instead, he pulls away, mouth downturned once again as he stares back into the sea of green. It’s an unfocused stare, focused more on his thoughts than his surroundings.

“Yeah, I kinda am, aren’t I?”

“Hey, what-” you struggle with what to say. “Don’t be like that.”

“I mean, it’s true.” he shrugs. “This is our first date in, what? 3 weeks? And we’re working on my fucking grandpa’s-”

Your elbow cracks against the soft of his ribs, a bit harder than necessary. He wheezes slightly as you knock the air out of him. “Negativity be gone.”

He whines a bit too dramatically. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you? Did you learn that from Sugawara? I’m never letting you watch a game ever again.”

It’s hard to hold back your smirk. “I mean- it worked! I’m not going to let you ruin the moment with your nega-!”

“Shut up for a second!” he says and this time he’s the one throwing an elbow. “I’m trying to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend!”

“You shut up!” you mirror him, but he’s ready this time. His response is quick, catching your arms against his. You two continue, poking back and forth roughly, laughter bubbling up. “You don’t need to apologize for being busy!”

“Well, I’m going to.” he grabs the edge of your shirt, leaning into you once again. “Come here and accept it.”

The gravel shifts under your feet as you scramble to stand, pulling out of his grasp. He watches you in confusion as you back away, but his look quickly transforms into something playfully predatory. The shift is wordless, but both of you understand the game that’s about to unfold.

“Come. Here.”

“No way.”

You turn on your heel and run. Keishin’s quick, grunting with effort as he throws himself forward. The sound of his shoes, squeaking against the rock, is faster than you anticipate and you have to force your legs to pump quicker. The cool morning air burns your throat as you barrel down the row, the dew covered leaves brushing against your arms and leaving wet stripes. Something about the simple act of moving dissolves all your tension, all your worries.

You turn your head to check in on your pursuer. Keishin is behind you, running with just as much force as you, but he’s grinning ear to ear with breathless laugh. It’s not his usual mischievous grin, but a soft one. A relaxed one. His baseball cap is halfway off of his head, caught by the wind, but he doesn’t reach to save it. He’s too busy reaching for you.

Everything is quiet except the two of you, laughing breathlessly as you chase each other like children. The sun has just started to crest the mountains, illuminating the sky with a blur of pastels. The pink of the sky reflects in his hair, catching in the glint of his eye as his gaze meets yours, and something in your brain tells you that you’ll remember this exact moment for the rest of your life. You want the moment to freeze, to stay in this childish bliss forever-

-but, of course, it doesn’t.

The rubber toe of Keishin’s boot catches a rock, sending him tumbling forward into a slow fall. He stumbles, catching himself for a moment before falling onto his knees, then his face. With a wince, he rolls on to his back, arms and legs spread eagle in defeat. Oversized pants, chunky boots, a stupid baseball cap: he looked more like an exhausted toddler than an adult. You slow to a jog, trying to pretend his fall wasn’t absolutely hilarious, but your stomach is clenching with the repressed laughter. Backtracking, you join his crumbled form.

“You okay?” you’re panting much harder than you should be. God, shouldn’t the smoker be less athletic?

“No, I think I’m really hurt.”

“Where? Your knees?” you drop to your knees immediately and reach for him, taking his hands in yours. The palm of his non gloved hand is scraped, but there’s no sign of blood.

“My ego.” he groans, “I think I bruised it.”

You let out something that isn’t quite a sigh or a groan. “You jerk.” you lean down and place a kiss on the bridge of his nose, right over where it crinkles when he smiles. “You had me worried for a second.”

He cranes forward to press his lips against yours, but only going as far as to brush his lips against yours. Every movement of your lips is a ghost against his, each breath more present than the feeling of skin. Each kiss is just a tease, barely a taste, and it makes you feel hungry. His hand circles your waist before drawing a line up your spine and your hunger deepens, burning deep into your core.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.” he says against your skin, hand guiding you closer to him. You lay down next to him, resting your head on his bicep. It should feel silly, to be laying in the dirt, in the middle of the field, but there’s something so natural about being with him that makes you forget about your surroundings. There’s something natural and unadulterated about being quiet with each other.

“It won’t be like this forever, I promise.” he’s the first to break the silence. “One day, we’ll see each other every day. Just- be patient with me.”

You kiss his shoulder. “You’re worth the wait.” you place another one a few inches upwards. “I miss you, but you’ll always be worth the wait.”

Ukai rolls, throwing a knee over your hips to loom over you. His bangs tickle your forehead as he kisses you. It’s short. “I miss you.”

He places another peck on your lips. “Every day.”

Another kiss catches you off guard. “Every night.”

Another one. This one is long enough for you to kiss back. “Constantly. I miss you constantly.”

You hook a leg over his ass, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons holding his overalls up. “Prove it.”

He hesitates. Tilting his head up, he holds his breath as he scans the row, searching for any signs of movement in the distance. Until now, you had forgotten that other people even exist. The air is still, only the distant sound of crows cutting through the silence. His muscles relax against you after a moment, gaze returning to study your features.

“I missed you.” he leans in and breathes into the shell of your ear before sinking his canines into the lobe. The sharpness sends you keening in surprise, pressing yourself farther into him. He takes the opportunity to tuck his arm under the arch of your back, using the angle to hold your hips against his, his forming bulge pressed right against your core. Your hands are still twiddling with the clasp on his overalls, your proximity to him making the simple task much harder than it should be. Every one of his movements is pulling you into him, like he can’t get you close enough to be satisfied. He sucks on the soft on your neck finishing the hickey off with a bite.

“Why’d you wear these stupid, ugly pants?” you huff as you finally free a button. Ukai breaks away from your neck to laugh before tracing his tongue across the bruise. The warmth surprises you and you can’t stop the whine that escapes you.

“Fuck off.” his free hand easily unclinches your pants before shoving them down. The denim digs into the plush of your thighs as he struggles to place himself between your legs. The ground is cold and coarse against your bare skin, but you can’t focus on anything other than the heat of his breath trailing down your neck.

“Fuck- I missed you.” he repeats as you finally unclasp his overalls and slide them down. They hang off his hips, just low enough for his erection to hang over the fabric, his dooling cockhead resting against your stomach. Firmly, he taps his cock against you with a soft thwack, watching the translucent strings of precum connecting you stretch and break. It dribbles on the hem of your shirt and you want to admonish him for it, but when your eyes meet, his blown out pupils take your words away. The way he watches you, eyes hazed over with lust, is borderline feral. All you can do is kick down a pant leg, freeing your leg and allowing it to fall farther open for him.

Keishin slides further down you, greedily dragging the spongy head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. Each pass across your clit makes you twitch, thighs squeezing around his hips. With a wolfish grin, he splits your cunt with his free hand and whistles at the sight.

“I missed this pretty little pussy.” he pressed forward unceremoniously and the head of his cock squeezes into you with a pop. The stretch aches, but something deeper in you is burning for more. “Fuck, look how wet you are… “

He’s quick to bottom out, slamming his hips into yours as if he can’t hold back any longer. His eyes are struggling to stay open as he rolls his hips against you faster, struggling to continue watching your poor pussy struggle to take him. The weeks without him have left you desperate, hips uncontrollably bucking against his. The rhythm is off, your bodies struggling to keep up with each other and just ending up slamming against each other unevenly. It’s wild, it leaves you breathless but your approaching high is so painfully close, neither of you can slow down to gather yourselves.

“You’re so good, fuck, so tight…” his head lolls forward, eyes fluttering closed, “You… so good… so hot… fuck, I missed you.”

Your hands wander up the front of his shirt, nails scraping against his chest. “Ple-ase, Keishin.” you beg, too breathless to say anything else. The sound of your voice makes him crumple over with a whine, fingers digging painfully hard into the fat of your hips as he struggles to pull you impossibly close. His cock twitches, spilling pulse after pulse of hot cum deep inside you.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” he murmurs, hips dragging out of you slowly. The movement makes you feel sloppy, the mixture of his cum and yours spilling down the crack of your ass. The sheer lewdness of it makes your core clench with desire, but the fading heat in your core makes you feel borderline nauseous.

As you begin to untangle yourself, trying to hide your disappointment, he pulls you back in.

“Don’t.” he whispers into your chest. “I’m not- I’m not done with you.”

Ukai’s headband has slipped backwards, barely hanging on to the back of his head. The mess of blonde, half of it plastered to his forehead, tickles your cheek as he kisses your cheek. The edge of desperation is gone, replaced with something gentler, as he rolls back into you. Every bit of friction has been replaced with the slick, warmness of his cum.

“I wanna wake up next to you every day.” Something about cumming has made him sappy. His hand dips low to circle your clit, tracing those practiced patterns you love so much. This time, instead of a fast, dangerous rise, the heat inside you pours slowly, like magma flowing through your core.

“I’m going to buy you a big ol’ house.” he mumbles into your chest, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “And a pretty little ring. And -oh fuck you feel so good- and, and you’re never gonna miss me again.”

God, the term making love is corny, so impossibly cringey, but as he whispers those promises into your skin, you understand it. It’s more about the need to feel closer, the need to hold and be held. It’s three weeks of emotions that neither of you can vocalize.

Fuck, you feel so full. Physically, emotionally. Every caress is tender, delicate and appreciative. Your thumbs trace over his crow’s feet and for the umpteeth time this morning, you savor the moment.

“I wanna be with you forever.”

Everything feels in focus- the friction of his jeans against your knees, the fabric clinging to your stomach, prickled with sweat, the ministrations of your lover’s lips against your skin as he whispers sweet nothings into you- but everything fades as you cum. Your orgasm hits slowly; you don’t even know you’re there until your legs are kicking out uncontrollably. Fingers tangled in the cotton of his shirt, you keen one last time. In the blur, you’re faintly aware of him joining you, his words dissolving into whines.

It takes a heartbeat for everything to still again. Keishin tilts his head up, studying you for a moment before speaking.

“‘M so tired.” he essentially collapses on you, knocking the air out of your lungs. The lay he goes immediately slack in your arms would have been cute if whte weight of his body wasn’t pressing our bare skin into the gravel under you. “I’m gonna nap.”

After quickly ruffling his hair, you press him up, gentling encouraging him to get off. “Come on, sleepyhead, your grandpa’s gonna start looking for us if we’re gone for too long.”

Keishin grimaces, propping himself up onto his elbows as he withdraws from you. The air against the mess on your thighs makes you shiver. “Please don’t mention the old man while I’m still inside you.”

He falls back into his heels and leaves you laying there. Before adjusting himself, he takes your bare leg by the ankle and tries to slip your pant leg back on. The hem gets caught on your heel and he fumbles.

“I can dress myself, Shin, you don’t have to.” you sigh, even as you adjust to make it easier. Denim sticks to your wet skin and he continues to work, completely ignoring your protest. As you lift your hips, letting him slide it past your waist. “Did you mean it?”

He hums a question, buttoning your pants.

“You really wanna spend the rest of your days with me?”

Ukai looks up at you. “Well. Yeah, of course.” he smiles, “Who else is gonna put cinnamon in my coffee?”

#haikyu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #fluff #smut #ukai #ukai keishin #ukai x reader #keishin x reader #ukai keishin x reader #mint's musings

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clairecrive · 3 years

Note

Ooh okay this is TOTALLY self-serving but i’m doing it anyway—could you do a (fem)reader x remus where the reader is juggling all sorts of things—working at the ministry and taking classes at night or something along those lines and feels like she’s wasting what are supposed to be her golden years and so she gets upset one night and remus is incredibly good about calming her down and comforting her about it?

"Cake by the sofa"

A/n: not to make this self-serving anon but writing this felt like therapy lmao. Today I offer you some much needed Remus fluff.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Word count: 1.3K

Tags: @ashlovesthemarauders, @jupiterandbutterflies , @hannaxmaria, @seldomabsent (if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)

HARRY POTTER MASTELIST

The subway was always jam-packed at this hour and you hated it. You hated it and you couldn't avoid it in any way. This was your assigned entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Any other day it would be fine, you'd put on an audiobook or some music but today... today was just too much. Not to mention that the incessant noise was making it impossible to talk to Remus.

You had left before he'd wake this morning and realizing that you haven't spent some quality time with him in ages broke your heart.

"Bunny, you there?" Did you already mention that the connection was shit underground?

"Sorry, love I'm here what were you saying?"

"I asked you when you'd be home tonight."

"Oh," you hummed trying to recall the schedule for today. Thankfully, ministry jobs were 9-5. Sure, they'd usually call you to make extra hours but you couldn't remember if you had to do so today.

Then it hit you, you had taken on a night shift at a local muggle newspaper. It was actually demanded from your superior at the Ministry as a way to make sure that muggles stayed in the dark about the Wizarding world.

"I'm going to be late again tonight, actually." You grimaced at the words. Remus had never pressured you and he himself was a very busy man. Between his job, your jobs and the Order, you rarely see each other, to the point where you were mostly roommates rather than boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Again," he mused and you could hear the weariness in his tone. Sighing, you landed on a wall. You were in the Ministry now, work could wait for another five minutes. This was more important.

"I'm sorry love. I know we haven't properly seen each other in a while."

"That's not what I'm worried about, bunny. You're working too much."

"I could say the same for you, Rem." You pointed out softly. You didn't want to come off as a hypocrite since you also were always busy.

"I'm fine, bunny. It's you that is wearing herself out."

"You don't have to worry about me, I'm fine. Huffing, you rolled your eyes at his apprehensive nature even though he couldn't see you.

"You know I do."

"I love you and I miss you." You confessed changing the subject. You were afraid the distance between you cause by your crazy schedules would eventually drive you apart. So, every time you could even if it was out of the blue, you did this. It was both for reassuring him but for yourself as well.

"The feeling is mutual, my love." Hearing him saying it back had an instant soothing effect.

"I'll see you soon, hun."

You ended the phone call after wishing him a good day and him doing the same. Sighing you put your phone away, your mood souring further as you made your way to your office where you were going to spend the entirety of your day while you only wanted to be with him.

Work was important to you and you knew that Remus shared this same attitude but at the same time, you knew that if it got down to it, you'd choose the sweet-hearted werewolf over anything else.

Making a mental note to speak to your superior about your weekly schedule, you'd settled behind your desk (not so) ready to face today's workload.

*+* *+* *+*

When you finally made it home, later that day, you were ready to bid today adieu. Sighing heavily, you closed the door behind you, the keys rattling as you locked it.

The hallway was dark but you could see that the light in the kitchen was on. You were light on your feet as you headed there since you didn't know if Remus was awake or he had just forgotten to close it.

When you entered the room though, the sight that met you made you halt. Your eyes flickering all over the room as you took it in. The light had been left on purposefully. The table was laid, carefully set with your favourite pieces, a couple of candles and a few rose petals adorning it.

Realizing that this was most definitely Remus' doing, you smiled as your eyes moved over the room to look for him. But he wasn't in the kitchen.

"Rem?" you called for him softly as you stepped into your small living room. And here he was, snoring softly on the sofa.

Kneeling, you smiled as you took in his peaceful expression. This alone, his angelic face and comforting presence alone would have been enough to soothe your frustrations.

Carefully, you pushed a piece of hair away from his eyes before your finger gently trailed over the scars on his face. He looked exhausted and your heart ached at the idea of waking him up but you knew he had tried to do something nice for you so you wanted to at least thank him for that. Also, the sofa is fucking uncomfortable.

"Baby," shaking his shoulder gently while peppering his face with small kisses you set to draw him for his slumber.

He groaned at the disturbance but you saw the moment he registered that it was you who was annoying him as he turned his head so that your lips could meet his instead of his cheek.

"Hi, bunny," he peeked at you through his lashes, eyes still unfocused with sleep as he pecked you again.

"Hi," you parroted him like a fool. He had always had this effect on you, even more so now that he looked out-of-this-world cute with his tousled curls and red lips.

He mirrored your smile, leaning in your hand that was cradling his face enjoying your touch. As sleep slowly unclouded his mind, the realisation settled on him. Eyes wide, he shot up almost knocking his forehead with yours.

"The dinner," he exclaimed, cheeks red in embarrassment as he looked at you sheepily.

"I saw. It was very sweet of you Rem but you didn't have to." Rising, you settled beside him on the sofa to reassure him.

"I wanted to do something nice for you but of course I had to ruin everything," he groaned letting his head fall on the headrest of the sofa with his face hidden behind his hands.

"Hey," leaning over him, you gently pulled his hands away, " you didn't ruin anything. I love it and I love you for doing this." You kissed his palm to drive your point home.

"You're just as tired as I am, honey."

He knew you were right. He was just as exhausted but still, he was upset that he hadn't been able to do this for you. Letting out a big breath, he used the hand you were holding to pull you to him. Kissing you gently he settled his forehead on yours, intertwining your fingers.

"I had even baked a cake," he mumbled on your lips.

"Well, why don't we eat that and then go to sleep? What do you say?" you proposed pecking his lips again.

"I say that I love you."

Giggling you lightly bumped his nose with yours before rising from the sofa to retrieve the dessert.

When you came back with the plates in your hands, his slice twice bigger than yours, you handed him his before taking your place beside him again.

"So, how was your day?" He asked before digging in,

"Not as good as this cake, for sure." You let out an obscene moan to prove your point but you knew it did well for his ego judging by the look in his eyes.

He thanked you for the compliment with the most adorable shade of pink adorning his cheeks. You cooed at him before asking him the same question.

It wasn't much, just the two of you sharing this insanely good cake Remus made but it was exactly what he needed after a pretty shitty week.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic #post hogwarts #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders x you #marauders imagines

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issaxcharlie · 4 years

Text

We say we're friends, we play pretend (2/2 )You're more to me, we're everything

PART 1 HERE

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on JATP and have to work together. Will they be able to recover more than their friendship?

If Charlie knew anything in life, it was that he had to take things carefully. Especially with such strong feelings involved. In general, when you like someone, the least you want is for that person to see you as a friend, but particularly for them, recovering their friendship bond was the most important step.

“You were so cute!” Tori and Owen are looking at photos of the guitarist's childhood on his phone. A photo of little Charlie in a suit grinning from ear to ear while holding a girl as if he is spinning her around shows up.

That memory is one of his favorites. He was always a very loved boy with many friends, but in the case of girls he was not the most popular. His best friend on the other hand was, at least for him, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and boys were always around her. He knew he needed to find a partner for the dance so that she wouldn't feel guilty or he wouldn't feel humiliated by not having someone to go with.

However, he was rejected, quite a few times. He didn’t want to say anything about the dance to his best friend that week because he knew that she would stay home with him without hesitation. But that day half an hour before, he arrived in a suit and flowers for her, so at least he could have a picture of such an important moment with the person he loves the most, and he was the one surprised.

“It was about time Char, we have to take about 30 pictures before we go. Mom bought you a tie so we can match." She is up and down looking for one of her shoes, not even turning to see her friend who doesn’t know if he understood correctly.

At that moment she finally turns to see him and runs for a hug, Charlie barely had time to raise his arm with the flowers.

“You look so handsome, and the flowers are perfect. Best partner ever, I love you so much C! I’ll be ready in a second.”

She had planned to go with him from the beginning, and thought it was an implicit pact. That realization made Charlie's heart beat a lot faster that day. No matter how many people invited her, she wanted to go with him. He spent the night with his favorite person dancing and singing, feeling grateful for her, this light who always chooses him of all people.

“I looked pretty good in those clothes.” Y/N says as she and Madison sit at the table.

“You always look amazing, but yeah that night was special.” It's also the night that he realized that he was feeling more than friendship for his best friend, but this is not the time to talk about it.

He decides to continue preparing his waffles, than even though it already has like 5 ingredients, it seems something is missing.

Y/N blushes a little and smiles. “Here, handsome.” She hands him a can of pringles that she grabbed from the cafeteria when she saw him making eggo’s.

“Perfect, Y/N Y/L teaching everyone why she's my soulmate.” Everyone at the table begins to complain about what they qualify as the most disgusting thing they have ever seen, while the former couple smiles happily as they secretly link their legs under the table and continue their breakfast.

Little details like that one, or as removing all the products that she would take with milk from her hands because she seems to forget every morning that she is allergic can make a difference.

“You are 22 years old and you are still as careless as when we were children, I do not understand how you have survived these 4 years."

“You were always the one who cared about it and kept me safe, I guess unconsciously having you close my brain says, ‘no worries, Char will take care of it.’ So I’m sorry, I'll be more careful.”

A seriously ill 10-year Y/N on the way to the hospital invaded Charlie's mind, whom quickly shook off the bad memory.

“It’s all good, bright star.”

“What did you say?” Madison asks.

“Bright star. I know Kenny calls her ‘golden star’, but he’s the copycat. I've been calling her like that all my life.”

Y/N just smiles, enjoying the moment. She had not heard those words from his lips for years, and honestly Kenny also calling her a star even If it was sweet, made her remember Charles practically every day, and that didn’t help at all to get over the guitarist.

“You are my brightest burning star.” Madison replies, looking at Charlie with amusement in her eyes.

At that moment the actor understands what is going through his co-star's head and panics.

“So this queen is the one who has you so inspired, I should have realized it before.”

“She’s always my inspiration, period.” Y/N starts to laugh while blushing, and Madison’s attention falls completely on her.

“And I guess ‘Bright’ is a coincidence? And rise through the night, you and I, We will fight to shine together...Bright forever.” The songwriter wants to disappear at that precise moment while everyone turns to see her as if she had a third eye on her forehead.

“But you wrote bright long before you even knew Charlie was part of the proyect.” Owen adds, smirking.

“If you are asking me if I draw inspiration from the people I love, to write... the answer is yes. And yes, of course I love him.” How is it possible for the guitarist to slow things down when she says things like that in front of everyone? All he wants right now is to kiss her. This discovery means that despite the time she still had him in mind, the song cannot have been written for long. Hope is flooding his body.

“Ok but they inspiring each other is the sweetest thing in the world, goals right there.” Tori adds excited, her friends blushing.

All those teasing moments helped them to be more transparent with their feelings, hugging, touching, and basically staying close each time they finished their work obligations, almost as if they were afraid that the other would disappear or as if they were trying to make up for lost time.

“We need a lot more energy, especially from Charlie. Luke lives for music, nothing can give him more joy than being on stage."

"They have been working for 17 hours straight and at least 15 attempts with this musical." Paul tries to reason with Kenny mid-recording of Now or Never, which still does not come out as the director was expecting.

“What was in the recording studio that is not here now? I thought they would show an even greater energy than there after they stepped on stage."

They both turn to each other, as if the light had been turned on at the same time, and Paul takes his phone.

A few minutes later Y/N walks on set, Sunset Curve smiles upon seeing her.

“I wanted to make sure that we are fulfilling the vision of our beloved songwriter. Let's not disappoint her, okay? Let's try it one more time." Kenny shouts before starting to record again.

Instantly the energy is seen a thousand times higher, Charlie more radiant than ever, while Y/N replicates his energy behind the cameras, flooding him with sass and attitude. The young singer also motivates her now friends and unknowingly gave Sunset Curve that extra thing they needed to finally achieve the perfect performance. Kenny and Paul doing a fist bump behind the screens.

Soon their chemistry and energy turned into open conversation. The way they made everyone on set cry the first time they practiced Unsaid Emily or how connected and dreamy they were while dancing to Perfect Harmony when Madison wasn't on set.

But they still weren’t together, at least officialy.

If Charlie was honest, the fear of throwing himself all over and losing her again terrified him. The industry they love so much and decided to work in doesn't let having a relationship be easy, and if things go wrong again, they don't know if it might be possible to fix it again. It was basically a leap of faith.

Nonetheless, he knows he's willing, but what about her?

That morning he enters the set overwhelmed with his situation when he sees an even more overwhelmed Y/N walk by without even turning around, almost running to the recording studio.

“I advise you to give her some space for a few hours. Let's say she’s going to have a pretty difficult day."

"Why? What happened?" Jeremy asks as he and Owen stand next to the director.

“She got a call from the people at Netflix, they have already approved almost all the music except ‘Stand Tall’, the closing song, and her favorite. They will come in an hour to hear her presentation and convince them that it is good enough."

At that moment Charlie has an idea. There is no way that he will leave her alone, if he has the opportunity to help her he will do it and he’ll drag along all the people he needs to achieve it.

"Kenny, do you happen to have the music sheets for the song?"

“Don’t tell me-” Owen tries to ask but Charlie interrumpts him.

“Yes, let’s get to work boys.”

An hour later Y/N is freaking out, and she can't help but wish Charlie was around. Of all the days he could choose to disappear, he chose today.

She walks towards the auditorium, where to her surprise way more people than she expected are present, including most of the cast. But there is no sign of her lover boy anywhere.

Now or never. She takes a deep breath and start playing the keyboard. Her voice is the only thing that accompanies the keys. Everything is going as planned, but she can't help but feel distracted, nervous, and overwhelmed.

She is about to give up this fight internally when a drum before the second verse gives her the strength to continue singing, Owen smiles and winks at her to give her some peace of mind, and just a few seconds later Jeremy begins to accompany them with the bass. She knows whose idea it is and she just waits for him to come out from wherever he is hidden.

"I’m going out of my mind, Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall." His voice finishes waking her up and she accompanies him in the chorus, their chemistry electrifying everyone until every single person is standing, the cast supporting, dancing and clapping while the couple continues to focus on each other, separating out of obligation every so often but taking the opportunity to sing along with Jeremy and Owen who were doing an amazing job too, impacting with their solos.

The song ends and the boys disappear while Y/N talks to the people who came to evaluate her work, who finally approve the last song on the soundtrack that she has been working on for so long and to which she put all her soul.

The very second people outside the cast leave, Y/N looks for who has always been the boy of her life, the one who has proven that even though the years go by, they only need a few seconds to be themselves again, to be everything again. And as soon as she finds him hanging around only with the other 3 members of JATP she runs and jumps on him, entwining her legs at his hips and hugging him from the neck with all her strength, he immediately secures her by putting his arms around her waist.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The band starts screaming “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” hoping that one of the two will already dare to take the next step, and Y/N stamps her lips against Charlie's, who reacts almost automatically and kisses her back hard, deciding quickly this is the happiest moment of his life. He finally got the girl, or with what just happened, her fierce girl got him.

Hours later both are in Y/N's apartment curled up on a sofa, enjoying being together again.

“Yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.”

Charlie chuckles at her random declaration. “What was that?”

“I’m practicing, and I wanted to say it aloud. I’m just so happy right now.”

His heart melts, she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. His brightest burning star.

His girlfriend doesn't give him time to reply, devouring his lips again. After all, she has four years to recover, and as always, he is more than willing to help her.

Thank you so much for reading!

NEXT PART HERE

Tag list:

@siennanoelle01

@reblogserpent

@kiss-themoongoodbye

@writerinlearning

@rachelle3musicals

#jatp luke #luke patterson fanfiction #luke x reader #luke patterson fic #luke patterson oneshot #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie imagines #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #jatp imagine #charlie gillespie

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acciocriativity · 3 years

Text

You and Me || Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin/Reader

Summary: It's always been you and Draco since you can remember, the invincible duo, the two of you against the world but some things have changed along the way and it's not news to any soul at Hogwarts but it's time your parents knew too.

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: I took a bit to finish but here it is your story @x-dratie-x. I hope you all like it! Tom Riddle is not Voldemort in this oneshot, Voldemort didn’t exist at all but the events of the first war and its consequences still is valid, but with another wizard.

Warnings: A very very slightly sexual conversation and that's all

1987

I didn't want to be at that dinner, I didn't want to have to listen all day long to how well I should behave because the Malfoy's were such an important family or something.

I had plans for the week, I would go with our elf to buy more art supplies and I was allowed to spend the day outside the house, just drawing the landscape.

My parents never let me participate in events like this, because I might mess up, say something inappropriate for the moment, or whatever excuse they decided to make up. But out of the blue, I was told that I would have to be there. Why? I couldn't understand and I didn't even ask them, what good would it do? None.

The day was only getting worse and worse by the hour for me, I just wanted to take off that dress and go play but I couldn't, obviously. So I did what was left to me, smile and eat politely without making any noise or comments, not that there were any comments I would like to make. I had no idea what they were talking about, it was absolutely boring. The only thing that made me feel slightly better were my own thoughts and the fact that their son was as bored as I was.

We knew each other because of some casual encounters between our parents but never had the opportunity to talk to each other, because of course, only grown-ups talk.

But it seems that I drew the long straw after a horrible day, after dinner Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were invited to stay a little longer and I was excused along with Draco to play.

I could hardly believe it, I wouldn't have to sit there and smile for another 45 minutes, my happiness couldn't be measured at that moment. Not even waiting for my mother to say it again, I stood up and said goodbye politely with a smile before walking up the stairs and I could hear footsteps following me somewhat hesitantly but I didn't care at the moment.

"Come on, let's go play in my room", I exclaimed with a huge smile and threw the bow tie, which was pinning my hair, on the floor and quickly walked over to it uncaringly.

I missed his shocked expression but as soon as we reached my door, he made sure to make it clear to me.

"Do your parents let you do that?", the question made no sense in my head but stopping to think about it now, it makes sense, he should always be flawless.

"They don't care as long as it's not in front of guests, you won't tell them, right?", his greyish blue eyes reflected mine and for a few seconds I thought that was a beautiful effect.

He looked away from me and nodded slightly in agreement, his face covered in shyness and I just squealed with delight. I opened the door and pulled him inside, his hand was so cold that I thought about taking one of my jackets and handing it to him.

"So what do you want to do? I have some toys in my closet, I'll get them", I walked happily to the door and proceeded to try to decide what I would want. Some was not the best word, there were a lot of them, far more than I would ever use.

I came back with a big mulberry box that I've only been able to carry within the last year and placed it on my bed but he didn't even notice, he was looking at my drawings.

"Oh, you liked them. I wish I had done one more today, do you want to try?", I asked him and walked over to the table where my sheets were.

"Yeah, they're not too bad", he stated nonchalantly and I didn't believe him for a moment but I chose to keep my mouth shut for once.

I picked up two white sheets, two quills and sat down quietly on the floor, since I didn't have two chairs for the two of us but it seems he wasn't used to that.

"Come on, hurry up, your parents won't be here forever", I patted the seat next to me and soon he sat down as well, I noticed his posture still uncomfortable and my goal for the day turned to change that, if only for 5 minutes.

From that day on, we became closer and our parents obviously understood and liked that, because we were strengthening their relationship and at no point that crossed my mind. I was just happy to be supported by my parents to visit Draco.

1991

My Hogwarts letter had arrived some weeks ago and I hadn't let go at any point, going to Diagon Alley had become a completely different experience and I couldn't wait, but I had to because I pleaded with my and his parents so that we would go together.

But the day had finally arrived and I had to contain all my energy to not look like an out of control little girl, nothing out of the ordinary but today was more difficult because I was genuinely happy. I was always genuinely happy with my only real friend.

"Y/N, you must hurry or we are going to be late", I could hear my mother's voice from downstairs just as I finished putting on my flats.

As it was a very important occasion I had chosen my favorite outfit, even my parents were a little excited too. They had told me that they had met at Hogwarts and that I would find someone from a good family at Slytherin as well. This part was completely ignored by me but they never found out about it.

"I'm here mom, we won't be late", I said as soon as I came down the stairs and approached them without running. We were near the fireplace and I mentally thanked them for not having to apparate, because it was always a horrible experience for me.

"Okay, I'll go first and you two right after", my father made sure to announce although he always goes first when we go out like that.

After a few minutes, we arrived in front of Flourish & Blotts and there was the imposing Malfoy family. After a small talk in which I had no interest in paying attention to, we all went inside and we were finally able to talk while our parents were engaged in a conversation with the attendant.

"I've already said it once and I'll say it again, I honestly don't understand how you're not that excited, it's Hogwarts", I whispered to him as we walked through the messy shelves full of books.

"It doesn't seem like a great thing after hearing it so many times", I could clearly see that there was something more there, I had known him long enough to know that and also that he wouldn't tell me easily.

"Okay, so you're telling me that you're not the least bit excited to leave Malfoy Manor to start your life?", his lips twitched trying to hold back a smile, his eyes shifted from mine, looking for something to distract himself.

But I could stop him, my cunning little hands went to his waist tickling that area before he could prevent me from doing so. That was enough to make him laugh, although he denied that he was ticklish every time I asked.

This attack did not end well for me, because revenge existed in his vocabulary and was even overused. I had to run, as fast as I could, and it still didn't work.

And why? Because I went to a dead end corridor upstairs, I had never even visited the second floor of that store, the day I went there I had to get unlucky.

In short, I was attacked twice more without mercy, my glasses almost got broken and we were so noisy that the owner gave us a scolding and our parents did the same as soon as we left with our packages, but this was not enough to ruin the day and our good mood.

1993

It was already expected that we would both end up in Slytherin, which was great because we didn't have to be separated, on the opposite, we became closer than ever. It also didn't take long to form our group of friends, actually not more than a month but the thing that made us truly close started in the third year when I had a genius idea.

We all had a reason to dislike Harry, mine was nowhere near Draco's, no one's was but we shared it anyway. It was always fun to pick fights with him, make pranks and get him into trouble on purpose, so why not make it a little game? It was so easy that the idiots, Crabbe and Goyle understood the first few times, you can't expect more than that from them, and this was certainly a record for both.

The game had three main objectives:

- Take the most materials from Harry or his friends: ink, quill, books, whatever they were carrying would be a prize and would get a point.

- See him or his friends more often, with the intention of spying on them just for fun, of course. It could be in class or in the corridors, each time would be an extra point.

- Pick fights with him or his friends, each minute was worth one point and to be proven, had to have someone to confirm it.

Of course, there was no room for lies, and I made sure to put a spell on our board to prevent this. Yes, I had made a small board that stayed with me but each team wrote down their own score.

To make it more fun, we split up into pairs. Draco and I, Pansy and Blaise, Grabbe and Goyle, Astoria and Millicent and Tom and Theo.

And finally, the best part, whoever had the most points at the end of the year would win 5 galleons from each person, as well as having a celebration party financed by the losers.

Needless to say, Draco and I always won since the day I created the game. Our friends always complained about us playing dirty but it was never necessary and deep down they knew it, it must be hard to lose every year so I don't judge them.

1995

"Are they still complaining?", I remained with my eyes closed, it was comfortable to lie curled up against Draco on the couch in the common room. We had two free classes, which was being put to good use to get some rest after a year of N.O.M.S. and a devastating victory in our little game.

"They'll get over it when we come back in September, I guess.... You're missing the best part", his voice came out whispered directly into my ear and I couldn't help but smile.

I didn't need to see the scene to know what was going on, Tom and Theo blaming each other for the defeat, everyone standing back from them because no one wants to get involved in their ego battle and our other friends trying not to laugh because it was a funny scene, even if they didn't know it.

"They're taking longer than last time...", I commented slightly annoyed by the noise. I had no idea what had happened to me, because usually I spent the afternoon celebrating my victory but not today.

"Let's get out of here, you seems so good", he hadn't even completed his sentence when I agreed and painfully got up to go to his room.

But before I could take two steps, I felt his arms go around my waist and legs, leading me up the stairs in a bridal style.

I smiled wider and snuggled into his arms, enjoying more of the warmth and good feeling it gave me until we reached the bed.

"Thanks honey, I don't know what happened today", I commented under my breath as soon as he had me lying on the bed, but I knew it was a lie.

"Are you sure? This isn't related to the fact that our parents will know about our relationship in a few days?", I hoped he would pretend he didn't know but that wasn't the case, I wasn't going to be able to run away from the subject.

"It's just that I don't like them meddling in our lives, of course I have nothing against your parents, I'll love to be introduced as your girlfriend but my parents will be twice as unbearable", I sighed and hugged the blond once more, if there was one thing that made me better it was this.

"Like my mom isn't going to start a 3 year planning for our wedding after she finds out, but at least they'll be used to it by the end of the summer and we won't have to go through this again", he began to fiddle with my hair and curl the strands between his fingers, slowly my shoulders relaxed and a considerable chunk of my worry faded away.

"Yes, I think so but it's going to be a lot harder for us to be alone now. You definitely won't be stepping foot in my room like you did when we used to play together", the memories flooded back and I felt him smile too, it had been a while since this had escaped my thoughts.

"I don't need to worry about that, we slept together for almost the entire year at Hogwarts and they can't do anything about it and we'll keep doing it", I couldn't see him since my face was buried in his neck, but the perfect image of his mischievous grin formed in my head.

"The question is, will you survive for two months without me? Because I don't see that happening", I teased with a huge smirk as I turned to look him in the eye.

"It won't happen because your father won't be enough to stop me love and I'll make sure you don't have to resort to your hands, because we know it wouldn't be enough", smugness was all over his face and as much as I searched for an answer to that, I didn't have one. Not in the first few seconds.

"Good love, that's good because I'm sure your hands wouldn't do a better job either. In fact, I'd be a little worried if they actually still work, in case we get separated", I had managed to wipe the smirk off his face but I also knew it wouldn't stay that way, revenge was still an overused word in his vocabulary.

A week later, there I was on one of the Hogwarts Express cars with Draco, since we couldn't fit all our friends there anyway, we decided to enjoy the last hours of freedom we had together.

And how quickly it went by, one moment I was chatting with my boyfriend while my puppy slept peacefully in her travel bed and the next, we had arrived and a wave of students were trying to get through the doors at the same time.

We stepped off the train holding hands, while I carried only my baby in the other, and this detail did not escape the trained eyes of our parents who were talking side by side but as soon as they noticed us they stopped.

"For Merlin's sake, you two finally decided to listen to me and are in a relationship now?", my mother's eyes sparkled with excitement and I could already hear her voice asking me all sorts of embarrassing questions. "Narcisa, our family is finally becoming one, this is the best news I could ever receive", she could jump for joy now but because of the good posture of a London high society woman, she did not do that.

"How about dinner at our house today? We have a good reason to celebrate," I had seen his mother smile at me several times but even Lucius Malfoy seemed satisfied enough to show a little bit of his teeth, which is indeed shocking.

My parents agreed to the idea immediately and only one look was exchanged between Draco and me, it only took a single look to know that we both acknowledged it would be an insufferable night.

Harry Potter Masterlist

#harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter #george weasley #draco malfoy x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy masterlist #Masterlist #draco malfoy smut #cedric diggory #sirius black #hp fanfic

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shurisneakers · 4 years

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shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully, “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground.

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close.

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Daring - Chapter 3

This is the last chapter for Daring! If you haven't, read part one and two first 💛 This is just a very fluffy chapter with vanilla smut at the end (with love for all of you who got whiplash from my last fic).

CW for alcohol consumption, language, talk of loss/trauma, sex and SPOILER WARNING for Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water. I will spoil the ending for the movie here so if you want to watch it first and haven't yet, now's the time! Honestly, it's an amazing movie and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, so lmk if you have ~thoughts~

Chapter 3 - Home

The days until Thursday went just as excruciatingly slow as the days before your first date had. The only difference was that now you knew what to expect. Or did you? You knew she liked you, too. Wanted you, too. She had told you every night on the phone. Every day after you finished at work you waited patiently for Abby to get off her shift, too. She was on day shifts at the moment, usually from 6 am to 4 pm, but more often than not it took a few hours longer.

Abby was very kind with her patients, often taking people back home from the hospital or helping them get accommodated in their hospital rooms. It cost her a lot of time, but when she told you how grateful they all were you could hear how much she cared.

“I’m telling you Y/N, she actually cried in my arms. This poor old lady, I think she must have been over 80. She could barely raise her arms to put on the gown, the fall had stunned her pretty bad.”

You and Abby were cooking on FaceTime, or rather you were pouring yourself some cereal and Abby was making pasta with fresh tomatoes and herbs. You wished you were there.

“I hope she recovers fast,” you said, pouring in the milk. “It must be awful, being away from home in that state.”

“Yeah,” Abby sighed, “but she luckily didn’t break anything. It’s horrible though, the way elderly people bruise. She is going to have every single step of those stairs visible on her torso for at least a week.”

You took your phone and bowl, using your elbow to open the door to your room. Leah winked at you from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and water dripping from her hair. She was going out with Nora and Jordan, seeing some action movie.

“You’re incredible for taking the time to help her. Did she really have no one else?”

Abby sprinkled some basil into her pasta sauce.

“I don’t think so. She was pretty confused, but she said her daughter lives in New York and she didn’t want me to call her. I’m gonna check on her tomorrow when I have a minute between calls.”

“Oh speaking of…” You leaned back against your headboard and propped up your phone against your thigh, staring into your bowl. “Are we still on tomorrow?”

Abby laughed quietly.

“Baby, I’ve been counting the hours. I can’t wait.” You felt a pull in your stomach at the name. She had never called you baby before. Looking at her, you could see she was trying to hide her nervousness. You smiled at her.

“When can I come over?”

“I hope I get off at 5 and they don’t rope me into an emergency in the last minute of my shift. I’ll just call you as soon as I head out and you can come over straight away. I’ll buy all the groceries we need tonight.”

“Hey, I can -” you protested, but Abby cut you off.

“No, you just grace me with your presence, that’s enough. You don’t know the exact ingredients anyway.”

You smiled and finished your cereal. You couldn’t wait.

Abby called you at 6 pm, still sitting in the passenger seat of the ambulance.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call sooner.” Little strands of hair had fallen out of her braid and framed her face, some of them looking damp with sweat. There was a flush on her face and dark circles loomed under her eyes. You felt just a little bit guilty, having stayed up with her on facetime until after midnight the night before.

“Don’t worry, I’m not the one working extra hours. How was your shift?”

“Honestly? Terrible.” You knew Abby was not one to complain, so that really had to mean something. You saw her sway in the seat as the ambulance pulled into the garage and finally came to a halt. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I’ll be home in half an hour, so just come over whenever you want. I’ll leave the front door unlocked in case I’m still in the shower.”

A prickle went over your skin at the thought, but you quickly pushed it away. Abby was obviously exhausted, this was not the time to imagine her and you in a shower.

“Are you sure you really want to cook? We could just order takeout and call it a night.”

Abby considered it for a moment. It had to have been the worst day. She quickly spoke to the person next to her in the driver’s seat, then you heard the car door being shut. Abby looked back at you.

“Abby. Let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft. You wished you could brush the loose strands of hair behind her ear. The blonde sighed and unfastened her seatbelt.

“Just come over, okay? We can decide then. I just want you with me.”

You jumped up and grabbed the bag you had already prepared for sleeping over, a bottle of Merlot on top of your clothes.

“I’m on my way. I can’t wait to see you,” you said as you struggled to put on your shoes with one hand.

“See you soon,” Abby smiled and ended the call.

You called out a goodbye to Leah and she yelled back “Go get her!” Smiling to yourself, you closed the door behind you and rushed to the train station.

Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic seat of the train, you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous, just like the last time. But this time was different, you reminded yourself. This time you could make your way straight into Abby’s arms, straight to her lips. You secretly checked your breath in your hand. The train arrived both too quickly and not fast enough.

After knocking at the front door twice without any answer, you made your way inside the house. Abby had told you to just come in, but you felt like an intruder nonetheless. Where could you wait without taking up space that wasn’t hers? You didn’t want to be sitting there like a movie villain when she came down. You called out but there was no answer, only the bass of a rock song playing upstairs and the sound of water rushing through pipes in the wall.

Deciding to make your presence as visible as possible, you dropped your bag on the stairs and took the bottle of the wine to the kitchen. Abby’s heavy paramedic jacket was thrown over a chair and her keys were on the table. An empty glass was standing next to them, water droplets running down on the outside and leaving a wet ring on the wooden surface. You picked it up and placed it in the sink, drying the spot with a tea towel. Then you took out two wine glasses from the cupboard you had put them into after cleaning up the last time and put them on the counter. You leaned against it, wondering what you should do now.

Thankfully, you heard the water shut off upstairs and a few seconds later there was the soft thump of naked heels on tile floor. You decided just to wait until Abby came down. It only took two minutes, then you heard her on the stairs. She slowed when she reached the bottom, probably noticing your bag.

“Y/N?” Her voice was light, but there was excitement in it, carefully restrained.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands and reached for the bottle, then realized you didn’t have an opener and you probably wouldn’t be able to use one either. You let your arms drop to your side and Abby entered the kitchen, stopping a few steps from you.

She looked beautiful. She was wearing a light grey cutoff shirt and dark navy sweatpants. Her hair was still wet and hung loosely over her shoulders, darkening the cotton where it touched the fabric. Her face was still tired and her shoulders slumped slightly, but her eyes had lit up at the sight of you.

“You’re here!” She held out her hands, still not moving from her spot.

You closed the distance and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her neck.

“I’m here,” you mumbled and Abby’s arms closed around you, encasing you completely. She smelled wonderful, moisture still evaporating from her skin and warmth spreading from her body to yours where you touched. Your excitement didn’t falter, but your nervousness did. A wave of calm came over you. You were here.

“I’m sorry your day was so terrible,” you murmured, lips brushing the skin of Abby’s throat just above the neckline of her shirt. “Wanna spend the rest of it on the couch?”

Her upper body fell forward into you and her forehead came to rest on your shoulder. She nodded and you gave her waist a gentle squeeze before drawing back, resting your foreheads together and cradling her cheek with your hand.

“Come on, then. Let’s order you some food. I brought wine as well if you want some.”

Abby sighed.

“I’d love some.”

You wanted to step aside and take the glasses to the living room but Abby’s arms around you tightened and the corner of her mouth lifted.

“You’re an angel,” she whispered. And then she kissed you.

It was sweet, gentle, and tired, her lips soft and warm. You melted into her, both of you clinging to each other for a moment until Abby pulled away smiling. She took the bottle of wine and rummaged through a drawer for the opener. You held the glasses and watched her open the bottle, brows knit together and her tongue peeking out between her lips. It was both adorable and incredibly hot. You sat down on the large sofa together and Abby poured both of you a generous amount, then you clinked glasses and the blonde stole another kiss.

“Alright,” you unlocked your phone, “what are you craving?”

Abby gave you an amused look before she let her head fall back on the sofa cushion and thought for a second.

“Do you like Mexican food? Burritos?”

“Love it,” you said, searching for the closest restaurant and checking their website for delivery service. Abby just hummed in approval when she saw which one you had picked out. You placed the order together, Abby’s right hand never releasing yours as she clumsily used her left to pick her food. When the order was sent, you threw your phone to the foot of the sofa.

“So,” you said, turning to your side in order to get a better look at the blonde. “Wanna tell me about work?”

Abby sighed and opened her arm for you to crawl into. You gladly scooted closer, resting your head on her shoulder and throwing an arm over her stomach. When she spoke, you could feel the thrum of her voice in her chest.

“I went in early to check on the old lady who fell yesterday and found out she’d fallen again last night. She hadn’t told anyone because she was embarrassed, but I could tell something was wrong. Turns out her arm was broken in three places. I had them call her daughter even though she begged me not to bother her. I don’t know what her daughter is like, but I hope she takes care of her.”

You hummed and pushed yourself even closer to Abby’s side.

“After that, we had a call because of a domestic violence case. The police were there already, it was horrible.”

She rubbed a hand over her face and you pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“After that, we had to go straight to another family dispute that ended in someone being stabbed with a steak knife. We got them to the hospital fast enough and it all went well in the end but I just hate cases that revolve around psychological trauma as well. All those family issues… I hate it.”

You could only imagine how horrible this must be for her after what had happened to her dad. Though you still didn’t know the whole story and you could probably find out easily by googling her name, you didn’t want to feel like an intruder in her past. She would tell you when she was ready.

“I’m glad you’re telling me about it,” you said, trying to sound firm and gentle at the same time.

Abby let out a little huff that sounded slightly surprised.

“Yeah, I don’t usually do that. Normally I would have just shoved all that into the back of my mind and tried to make this evening go perfect. Not that I don’t want to put in the effort with you-”

“I know,” you interrupted her, raising your head to smile at her, noses brushing against each other. “I think this is perfect. You are.”

You moved in for a kiss and Abby placed a hand on the back of your head, holding you gently as your lips touched. She deepened the kiss soon, breath going a little faster as her arms pulled you even closer. You threw your leg over her thigh, half on top of her now. Her tongue was smooth and hot against yours and when her teeth scraped over your bottom lip, you let out a whimper that she caught in another kiss. Feeling bold, you finally moved on top of Abby, straddling her thigh and placing your hands left and right of her flushed face. You rolled your hips forward and she made a guttural sound, low and hungry.

Her hands were all over you, pressing between your shoulder blades, wrapping around your waist, grabbing your hips to make you grind forward again, then finally cupping your ass and digging her fingers into the muscle. You stopped trying to keep yourself from panting and leaned forward to kiss Abby’s jaw, then the soft spot beneath her earlobe. She drew up her leg behind you, pressing her thigh between your legs, and you whimpered into her ear.

“Abby,” you whispered, “what are you doing to me?”

“Anything you want,” she murmured against your cheek, “anything, baby.”

You could hear your pulse drumming in your ears as you kissed the blonde fiercely, then moved your lips over that chiseled jaw again before biting the delicate skin of her throat. You dragged your tongue over her pulse point, actually feeling the beat of her heart fluttering against your sensitive nerve endings. She smelled intoxicating, warm, and earthy, and it made you want to take her in completely, to drown in her and never come to the surface again.

Her hands were on your hips again, guiding them against hers as she let out another low moan, lips parted and pupils blown as she looked at you with a mixture of amazement and pure, burning desire. You let your hands wander down her torso, trailing your fingers along the hem of her shirt and slipping them underneath. Abby’s skin was radiating heat, her stomach flexing beneath your touch.

“May I?” You asked, your voice breathless. Abby just nodded, lifting her arms over her head and arching her back so you could push the fabric up, revealing her broad frame, toned abs, and a black sports bra. You threw the shirt to the side and fell back onto her, your chests pressing together as you enveloped her in another heated kiss. You ground down against her thigh, the seam of your jeans pressing against all the right places. Abby’s hands were on your back again, broad and warm and reassuring.

You stayed like that for a while, melting into each other, catching the other’s breath, and trying to move in ways that would get the other to moan even though you were both still shy and careful about making noise. Abby twisted her pelvis ever so slightly so you could keep riding her thigh and hit her hipbone at the front of every movement. You responded by pulling her damp hair and making her hiss before she pulled you in and kissed you fiercely.

“God, Abby…” Heat was pooling at the bottom of your stomach and there was a sudden, almost painful sensitivity to your core. Pleasure had sneaked up on you without you noticing, completely surprising you with its intensity as Abby rolled her hips upward and you had no choice but to cry out. There was a hunger in her eyes, a triumphant glint and she held your face gently with one hand while the other was tight around your hip, guiding your movements against her and pressing into your flesh.

“Fuck, Abby, fuck, I’m so -” She swallowed your whimpers with another searing kiss, her tongue pressing into your mouth and her thumb stroking your cheek.

“Come on, baby, you’re so good, so beautiful, baby,” Abby mumbled against your lips, followed by more sweet compliments and hot kisses, her eyes always on yours. You found the perfect angle at last and dug your fingers into her shoulder, your moans going high and fast as you pressed your forehead to hers. She placed a last gentle kiss on your lips and you came undone on top of her. Her hands caught you easily, stroking you through your high, her lips caressing every inch of your face. Her skin was warm beneath you and slightly sweaty. You licked a small stripe up the side of her throat and kissed her jaw.

Abby pulled back just an inch to get a better look at your face, running her hands through your hair and over your cheeks, then down your shoulders and coming to rest around your waist.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” she said quietly and with a blissful smile. “An angel.”

Her gaze was so piercing, so raw and knowing that you suddenly had the urge to bury your face in your hands, to hide from this infinite feeling inside of you that you could see in Abby’s eyes as well. You forced yourself to hold her gaze and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I’ve never… this has never happened to me before,” you confessed softly. “You are doing things to me I never even dreamed of.”

Abby chuckled at that and caught your hand, kissing every knuckle and then the inside of your palm.

“We fit well, don’t we?” It was cautious, a step forward with no weight on it yet, a hand on a door handle.

“We do.” You grinned at her, and maybe it was the rush of the high that still hadn’t faded or a rare wave of courage, but you decided to rip open that door from the other side. You sat up and placed a hand on her sternum, feeling her heart thrum beneath your palm.

“Abby, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted to for a long time. You don’t have to have an answer right now, but just know that I’m already yours, no matter what.”

For a moment, Abby didn’t seem to fully comprehend. Then she frowned, the smile not fully leaving her lips but turning bittersweet. You felt your stomach drop. Had you spoken too soon?

“Y/N.” Abby’s hand covered yours on her chest. “I’d love nothing more.” A weight fell off your shoulders. Abby wasn’t done talking yet.

“I’m a difficult person to… be with. I’ve really put in all I had with you so far, but there are times when I will be cold and closed off and I won’t be able to let you in, to let anyone in. I don’t know if I could hurt you like that.” She squeezed your hand now, her eyes glossy. “I’m not saying this because I’m scared or unsure, I’m saying this to give you an out. Or at least some more time to really get to know what it’s like with me in your life. I can be exhausting. At least that’s what I’m told.”

You felt something hot flare up in your throat. That was not fair.

“Who told you that?”

“Owen. I mean, he’s the only person who knows what it’s like being with me and he certainly didn’t like it very much.” Even with her broad shoulders, her set jaw, all her muscles, she looked strangely small now. You felt like you were going to burst with rage.

“Abby, do you honestly think an ex’s opinion of you counts? To me? I don’t give a shit what Owen thinks because I’m not him and this is not the same thing. I get to decide what it’s like and so far it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” You placed both your hands on her cheeks and leaned forward. “Babe, stop trying to deny yourself happiness. You deserve to be happy. And if I make you happy, if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Abby sat up straight, her face now directly in front of yours, and wrapped her arms around you tightly. She blinked the tears away, a smile beginning to tug on her lips.

“You’re mine?”

“Only yours.”

She kissed you and you could feel her grin against your mouth, smooth teeth softly clicking against yours.

“Mine,” she mumbled and began trailing kisses down your throat, hands now wandering down your back and under your t-shirt where they immediately provoked goosebumps to spread over your entire body. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Both of you pulled back with surprised faces.

“The food!” you realized and you had to laugh as you scrambled to get up from the couch. You had almost forgotten how hungry you were. Abby quickly pulled on her shirt, grabbed her wallet, and opened the door, hair wild and her lips still red and swollen. You hovered in the background, probably looking just as disheveled, and tried not to giggle like an idiot.

The delivery guy took one look at you and just gave Abby an amused smirk as he handed her the food. She tipped him generously and thanked him before closing the door and turning to you, both of you frozen in your spots for a second. Then you both burst out in laughter. Abby was next to you in three strides and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before you let yourself flop down on the sofa together. Abby had ordered two large burritos, you had chosen a vegetarian taco bowl and a big bag of tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole. While you unpacked all the food and laid it out on the coffee table, Abby turned on the TV and scrolled through the movie options.

After some looking around, you decided to watch The Shape of Water, which you hadn’t seen yet despite being a big Guillermo del Toro fan. You ate in silence, letting the film pull you into a cold war era story of a mute woman, her gay best friend, and a strange fish-human being in the facility she was a cleaner at. You generally avoided watching more artistic, less Hollywood-typical movies with other people in fear of them constantly ridiculing the story to hide their own discomfort with monsters, but Abby was just as immersed in the story as you were. Sally Hawkins was a fantastic actress and the amphibian man was beautifully designed and a fascinating character. Del Toro’s handwriting was all over the film - beautiful colors and cinematography, fairytale monsters next to very human, real-life ones, the fear of the Other and the idea that maybe if one just dares to look beyond, the Other may have a story to tell and love to give.

When you had finished your food, you snuggled up to Abby, occasionally feeding her chips with guacamole and kissing the salt from her lips. During the final scenes when the shooting happened, Abby tensed up next to you. You hadn’t even thought about movies possibly triggering her or making her uncomfortable. Fuck, you should have looked it up beforehand. Now all you could do was press your temple to her collarbone and wrap your arms around her as tightly as possible.

“Do you want to turn it off?” You mumbled, your thumb drawing circles on her ribcage. You could feel Abby shake her head.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now. The movie is almost over anyway.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you close. The ending was beautiful and heart-wrenching and you shed a few tears, staining Abby’s shirt. She just smiled and kissed the tears from your cheeks.

“Did you like it?” You asked tentatively, not sure if the shooting may have ruined it for Abby.

“I loved it.” Her expression was warm. “That scene in which she talks about the way he sees her without any of her flaws, just her, and how her fight for his life is what makes her human was beautiful.”

“And then in the end she wasn’t human after all,” you added, “I’ve never really seen it that way around. Usually, the beast turns into a prince at the end. I always hate that. Why can’t the monster stay a monster after having proven their love and their honor and whatever else is needed to redeem them, you know?”

Abby thought about that for a moment, her eyes going unfocused.

“That’s true. In so many stories, all the things that make the monster monstrous are stripped away as soon as they have proven their worth and found true love. It doesn’t work like that in real life. We all have things inside that could deem us monsters and it’s only when we hope to have found love that we can dare to reveal them and hope the other person loves us anyway.”

Something warm spread inside you, reaching out to every corner of your body, every toe and every fingertip. You leaned in and kissed her gently.

“The silver plate.”

Abby looked confused for a second, then she remembered the things she had said during your last date.

“Yeah, my own monstrous silver plate.” She smiled. “Scared?”

“Not at all,” you grinned and climbed on top of her. “I’ll devour you.”

You pressed your lips to hers her and it quickly turned into another heated makeout session. Your limbs were tangled together and her hands roamed your body as you kissed her neck and when she finally asked: “can I?” you almost knocked your head against her jaw trying to sit up so she could take off your shirt.

Sitting up on her hips, you dragged your nail from her ear to the hem of her shirt, scratching the skin and making her hiss, eyes burning.

“Want to show me your bedroom?” you asked, trying not to lose your focus at the feeling of her hands wandering up your thighs. You yelped as Abby sat and stood up in one swift motion, arms secure around your waist and thighs so you’d stay pressed to her chest. You wrapped your legs around her and laughed into her mouth before she kissed you again.

The tall blonde carried you up the stairs like it was nothing, making soft noises when you bit into the soft skin just below her jaw.

“Y/N…” She kicked open a door and didn’t give you any time to look around, crawling on the bed and trapping you under her large body, attacking you with kisses, all teeth and tongue. It was glorious.

You pulled on Abby’s shirt until she grunted and took it off herself, then her hands were trailing the skin above the waistband of your jeans. More, more, more.

“Can I take those off?” Abby asked, sitting back on her knees between your legs.

“Please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips for better access, but Abby had other plans. She let her hands wander over your upper body, her fingers teasing your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette, then softly tickling your stomach on their way down. Finally, she opened the button of your jeans and slowly opened the zipper, her eyes flickering up to your face and back down to her hands.

“Come ooon,” you begged, “please, Abby.”

There was the hint of a smirk on her lips, but she complied and pulled off your jeans, both of you laughing as they caught around your ankles and Abby had to wrestle them off. Then Abby’s hand was on your foot and she held it in place on her shoulder, slowly kissing her way up your leg. Your breath got faster with every inch she came closer to your heated center, that place that had gotten a taste of what was to come and wanted more. She dragged her lips over your clothed core and your legs trembled, a gasp escaping you.

Abby took her time with you, kissing your stomach and chest before taking off your bralette and teasing your nipples with a gentle tongue and fluttering fingers. You were squirming beneath her, a mess of pleasure and want for more, begging her to touch you. Finally, she sat back up and hooked her fingers under the waistband of your panties, keeping eye contact and pulling them down slowly. Her gaze was burning, pupils wide, lips hanging open and breath going in shallow pants.

Her tongue was heaven, it was heat and silk and everything at once, enveloping you in waves of ecstasy and making you moan and bury your hands in her hair. She was gentle, cleaning up the mess you had made earlier and the one just now, broad tongue and small circles sending your hips up to meet her, her fingers around your thighs too far away.

“Abby, please…” you gasped and she looked up to meet your gaze. You melted inside.

“What do you want, baby?” Her voice was deep and husked, lips shining with your juices.

“Your fingers.” You gave her hand a light push downward and with a smile, she complied.

If you had thought you had already reached the pinnacle of pleasure, the best there was, you had been oh so wrong. Abby’s fingers were magical, teasing you and filling you up, stroking against that tender spot inside you, then slowing down as her tongue made you see stars, complying when you begged her for more, faster, harder. Your legs hadn’t stopped shaking in what felt like forever, your fingers were cramped into Abby’s beautiful blonde mane and you were crying out her name over and over again as she brought you to your peak, guiding you through it and moaning along with you as your juices covered her fingers and her tongue.

When she finally crawled back up to meet you, her arms were shaking slightly and her face was flushed. You still felt like you were somewhere far away, but her smile pulled you back to the present. She kissed you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Slowly, you let your hand wander down and play with the seam of her sweatpants and the hem of her boxers peeking out underneath.

“Wanna take these off?” you mumbled in her ear and you could see she was trying to keep her composure as she tried to get out of her pants as fast as possible before coming back to you. She stopped and looked unsure suddenly.

“Is it okay if I keep these on for now?” She gestured to her sports bra and underwear.

“Of course, baby. Can I touch you?” You whispered, one hand on the back of her neck as the other wandered lower. Abby nodded and kissed you again.

“Yes, please,” she whispered back. You slid your hand into her boxers and were greeted by wet heat, desire practically pooling in your palm. Both of you gasped at the same time, eyes flying open to meet each other’s, bodies grinding together.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” you cooed and watched Abby dissolve in front of you, blood shooting into her cheeks before she buried her face in your neck and began leaving lovebites on your throat. You dragged your fingers between her folds, relishing in the tiny noises she made whenever you touched her clit or came near her entrance.

You put all your strength into throwing Abby to the side and rolling on top of her, hand never leaving her center. She laughed in surprise and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you in, and at that moment you slid a finger inside her. Her eyes went wide and the noise she made would visit your dreams for the rest of your days. You kept your lips wandering over her throat and back to her lips, pulling moan after moan from her with your fingers, gently pushing inside her and curling upward, your thumb drawing circles on her clit. After a while, you could see her abs flexing as her core convulsed rhythmically, her moans getting higher and breathless, her fingers digging into your waist.

“Will you come for me, Abby?” you whispered and kissed her again. Her hips bucked up into your hand and she made a strangled noise, then her legs clamped together around your fingers and she sighed, tongue darting out to brush against yours as you slowly pulled your hand from her sensitive core.

You threw your thigh over her hips and pressed your face into the crook of her neck, giving her time to breathe as you drew patterns on her bare stomach with your fingers.

“Baby…” she mumbled above you, voice vibrating through her chest. “That was… I don’t even have words.”

You grinned up at her and she brushed your hair behind your ear. Her gaze was full of love and adoration, like sunlight warming your skin, soft fingertips caressing your cheeks.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder so you could look at her. “You’re so careful.”

Abby smiled and followed the path of your fingers with her eyes.

“I’ve had other experiences in the past that made me realize how important it is to always check on your partner.” She looked down at her clothed hips. “Thank you for… not making this weird. I’m just… one step at a time.”

“Of course, baby.” You moved your lips closer to her ear. “I think it’s really fucking hot, you between my legs in those boxers, all muscles and freckles. But then when I touch you, you’re so needy, just a wet mess, coming on my fingers in your underwear.”

Abby let out a shaky breath, chest trembling at your words. She laced her fingers between yours and pressed them to her sternum.

“You leave me speechless every time,” she said, voice quiet and content.

“I love it.” You pulled the blanket up with your foot and covered both of your bodies up to your hips, yawning into her shoulder. Abby chuckled quietly.

“Do you need to set an alarm for tomorrow?” She reached over to the bedside table, then let her arm drop. “Our phones are still downstairs.”

You groaned and rolled onto your back before blinking up at Abby innocently, hoping she would go and get them. She just laughed and got up, stretching her arms and making the muscles on her back dance beautifully.

“You need to go pee,” she said with raised eyebrows. You sighed and lazily rolled out of bed, pulling the blanket up around you.

Abby showed you the bathroom across the hall and made her way down the stairs, a bounce in her step. You could hear her clean up the takeout containers and throw away the trash in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a noise outside, a deep voice and the jingle of keys at the door. You froze with the towel in your hands. The front door opened and Manny tried to stay quiet in that completely ineffective way most men do, dropping his shoes with loud thumps and whispering into his phone so loudly you could hear every word.

“Hi, Manny,” Abby said in the hallway. Keys dropped to the floor with a clunk.

“Dios mio! What the hell are you doing sneaking around here, Abby? You just get back from the gym?” You could hear her laugh quietly as he tried to catch his breath.

“I could ask you the same. Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow?”

You snuck back into her bedroom on tiptoes, wrapping the blanket around you tightly and staying near the door to hear the conversation downstairs.

“Had to go early, my dad had a hot date tonight.” You could actually hear his grin.

“Yeah, well, me too.” Abby’s voice was dry, but you could tell she wasn’t actually annoyed.

“Really? Y/N? How'd it go?” A pause, then another loud whisper - “holy shit, she still here?

“Y/N, Manny’s home!” Abby’s raised voice rang through the house. You grinned. She knew you were listening.

“Hi, Manny!” You looked around for any clothes you could throw on quickly but came up empty. Sighing, you checked your blanket placement and went to the top of the stairs, looking down at Manny and Abby in the entrance hall.

Abby was still just in her sports bra and boxer shorts but didn’t seem to mind at all. Manny wore sweatpants and a green sweater, along with a hat that said women want me, fish fear me. Behind him were two large bags, one of them clearly full of fishing equipment. His smile lit the room.

“Hi Y/N, nice seeing you here. You two have a good night?”

You nodded and he made a knowing ah-ha sound. Abby elbowed him and red spots formed on her neck.

“Well, I’m gonna eat something and pass out. Breakfast tomorrow?” He threw a hopeful look in Abby’s direction. “When does your shift start?”

“Noon, I get late shift for the next two weeks. Y/N, what about you?” Both of them looked up at you and you shifted your weight, very aware of the way you looked right now.

“I just need to study, I can sleep in for once.”

Abby nodded and patted Manny’s shoulder.

“Breakfast at 10.”

She came up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and grinning from ear to ear. Manny vanished into the kitchen, continuing to scream-whisper into his phone. You made out the words “finally… girl is here” before Abby simply picked you up and carried you back to bed, kicking the door closed behind her.

You snuggled up together and Abby stroked your hair while she told you about her friendship with Manny and how glad she was to have him. He had been there for her through everything and he had wanted her to make a move and ask you out for weeks. You felt yourself drift away slowly.

“I’m so glad I’m here,” you mumbled, hand stroking Abby’s chest.

“Me too, baby. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine.” The bliss in her voice was the same you felt in your heart.

“Finally.” You craned your neck for a last kiss and melted beneath Abby’s soft lips and warm hands.

She held you wrapped tightly in her arms, almost as if she was scared you could vanish in the night. As if you'd ever leave her now. The last thing you thought before falling asleep was that you were finally home.

Author's note: Have you seen The Shape of Water? Did you like it? Let me know here 💌 If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here 🤎

#abby anderson #abby tlou2 #abby tlou #abby the last of us #the last us 2 #tlou abby #leah #leah tlou #abby anderson fanfiction #smut #fluff

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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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Hiya! I've only just started watching Chinese dramas and the drama behind the drama is already blowing my Western mind. Thanks for your meta btw! I was thinking about what you said about Chinese government not explicitly banning anything, rather people had BETTER catch on to what they mean 😨 Is it possible that delaying OOL is their way of warning future productions to think twice before involving Xiao Zhan, because they want to undermine his popularity? As he is 'too entertaining' 💀

Hiya Anon!! The decision to air a c-drama lies in both the government and the platforms. Once the drama gets the distribution permit from the National Radio and Television Administration (NRTA), it's up to the platforms to schedule the airing date.

The distribution permit for OOL was issued in May 2020, and so the government cleared it for airing a while ago. And so, it is the platforms that are holding the airing date back.

Multiple considerations go into the decision of when to air any drama. Here are some financial considerations I can think of: are there fierce competitors in the same period? It's usual for multiple c-dramas to begin airing on similar dates. The week between 2019/06/23 and 2019/06/30, for example, 9 series began airing—including The Untamed on 2019/06/27. And on that very same date, another prominent, very well-made drama also began its airing—The Longest Day in Chang'An 長安十二時辰).

And then, has a popular drama of a similar genre been aired right before? If so, it may be wise to push back the airing date a little. Is it exam period or is it summer, with students being on vacation and having more free time to watch TV, chase after their favourite idols and buy merchandises? That’s the golden season for idol dramas! Are the production studios, platforms under pressure to produce a solid profit report to their investors? Better move a series with very bankable stars then ...

Afterwards, there are, of course, political considerations. For those who may be worried about c-ent’s current upheaval, I’d like to emphasise this: the government swooping in and say, or hint, that this and that popular thing displeases its Socialist sensibilities isn’t new. Dangai isn’t the first genre to be soft-banned, for example; before that, there was the ... Imperial Harem infighting genre 宮鬥劇 (sorry for the silly translation, I don’t know what’s the proper name for it!), which was extremely popular at the time of the ban with recent hits such as The Legend of Zhen Huan 後宮甄嬛傳 and Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略. There was the time travel genre 穿越劇 (For example, Scarlet Heart 步步驚心). The state criticism against “sissy” 娘炮 idols also made its former round in 2018.

And so, while there may not have been precedences where the government targets c-ent’s obsession with “traffic” 流量—a relatively new term that describes the heavy flow of social media posts, of buzz and cash surrounding a beloved something or someone, c-ent has a long history of, and ample experiences with, dealing with their government’s displeasure at something that its audience loves, that is financially lucrative for the industry and most importantly, along that line, something the industry wishes to keep.

The last point may be worth emphasising: the production studios, the platforms (streaming, social media etc), the marketing companies, the yxh, the companies who employ celebrities as their spokespeople etc etc, all of them desperately want to keep stars like Gg and Dd around. This is especially true with c-ent being in its “bitter cold winter” financially since 2018, with the tightening censorship that means hit dramas, and "top traffic” 頂流 stars, are increasingly more difficult to make or come by. “Top traffic” stars, in particular, are very attractive to the industry because their fans are (far) more willing to spend money, generate the needed buzz on social media to bring in more “passer-by” audience and in turn, more revenue, and more investment, and more endorsements and sponsorships (see: the number of Dd commercials in SDOC4).

Therefore, as fans and audience, I think it’s safe to assume this: at least on the front of wishing to protect Gg and Dd’s star status, to protect potentially popular dramas and genres such as OOL, these financial interests stand with us. Does this “saving” go against what is safe for these companies? One can say so. It would be safer for the platforms, for example, to air ... um, say, The Best Speeches by President Xi in place of dramas like OOL. The act would likely please the government very much; signal, perhaps, that the platforms have caught on its ultimate dream, with Xi being the One Idol of China. But this decision would also go against the very nature of these companies as for-profit entities, these Capitalist Existence that are traded in stock markets and are driven to make as much money and as quickly as they can.

What, then, is the easiest way to protect traffic stars like Gg and Dd, like Yang Zi 楊紫, the lead actress of OOL who is also very popular and who, reportedly, also has her own rather ... rambunctious corner of fandom? What’s the easiest way to “save” a potentially popular drama like OOL? Saying what is *the* easiest way may be difficult, but I believe I can name one easy way: to simply keep these popular people, these (potentially) popular things out of attention for a while, especially with October 1st (Communist China’s birthday) drawing near and in 2021, the year of the Chinese Communist Party’s Centennial.

After all, regulations from the Chinese government tend to come in bursts—axes falling left, right and centre for a while and in quick succession, followed by an extended period of silence (and neglect). The wait, therefore, doesn’t have to be long at all. As short as after a few month’s time, certain parts of c-ent may return to what it was like before and these c-ent companies, having had so much experience in working around situations like this, would know when that time comes, when the coast is clear.

Meanwhile, as fans, we wait. Being in i-fandom means our words and actions have relatively little effect, but if we were in China, our best action would, too, likely be similar to the platforms that delay the airing of OOL, except we cross out the the word “popular” and replace it with “beloved”: we keep our beloved people, our beloved things out of attention. We refrain from going around and complaining, no matter how much we wish to watch the show. We refrain from starting fights. We stay out of hot searches. The Chinese government is bureaucratic and corruption is rampant, which means often times, the higher-ups in charge of dropping the axes have little knowledge about who or what their axes are supposed to fall on, and little care if they get it wrong. In such circumstances, the key to survival is to not stick one’s head out; to make sure we don’t offer our neck, and more importantly, our favourite stars’ neck, for the axes to fall on.

It may be difficult sometimes. We’ll hear hisses, from antis, from doubters, from those who simply aren’t familiar with the situation, that will tempt us to put ourselves and our favourite stars out in the open where the axes are raining. Patience and independent thinking are important in times like this, qualities that allows us to stop, excuse ourselves from the virtual crowd and think ~ wait, is what is being said true?

The government’s attack on “traffic”, for example, together with the soft-ban on Dangai, have led to soft hisses that Gg and Dd are the targets.

I invite everyone to step back and think a little—are they?

Here’s one small, but important point that may be lost in translation (and lost, too, even in some Chinese discussions where netizens have scrolled through their feeds too quickly): in the state opinion pieces, the term used against “traffic” stars has consistently been “唯流量”, with 流量 = traffic, and 唯 = only. The presence of the character 唯 is crucial: 唯流量 are not simply “traffic”, or popular stars; they are stars with only traffic, with nothing but traffic. No acting skills, no singing or dancing skills, no other demonstrated capabilities beyond getting their fans to vote and comment and buy things for them.

Are Gg and Dd 唯流量?

Here’s Gg:

youtube

(For those who may not know: A Dream Like A Dream 如夢之夢 is not just a Chinese language play. A Chinese adjective that has been used to describe it is 殿堂級 ~ “palace hall grade”, ie, it’s a royalty. Trivia: the version in China ends with a cappella with Patient #5 singing about himself, which means Patient #5 can ruin the finale of the 8 hour show if he fails to sing well, and beautifully.)

And here’s Dd:

youtube

I think I can rest my case. My fellow turtles, what do you think?

Such rumours—that so and so, this and that are the alleged targets—are currently running rampant on Chinese social media, with almost every noteworthy celebrity and media projects etc being named by a few who dislike them. However—or rather, ironically, one may say?—because everyone and everything under the sun has been named, the net effect is not that different from if nothing has been named at all.

If a similar rumour, if more of such rumours creep onto the shores of i-fandom, therefore, please do not be afraid and remember—these speculations, these noises will most likely fade into obscurity unless the populous Gg+Dd fandom amplify it with their voices, even if theses voices are words of defence.

Silence can be a defence. Silence can be the best defence.

For the time being, with the greater sociopolitical environment being what it is, with “Capital” being reportedly targeted by the state (previously discussed here), platforms and TV stations that are part of Capital may be extra careful and temporarily keep all traffic stars out of their productions, out of sight.

But I remind myself this ~ this isn’t about Gg and Dd. This probably isn’t about 99.9% of the stars who may be temporarily kept out of these productions in the coming weeks, some of whom may have starred in Dangai. As a corollary, I find it important to remind myself that too, to think twice before wondering aloud who may be the targets, to make sure I do not, even accidentally, put any non Gg Dd star and their fans under the axes—not because my words can influence the Chinese government, but rather, because of a simple, almost cliché reason: Do not do unto others what you do not want others do unto you.

After all, one step outside fandom, people cannot tell one idol from another, cannot tell one drama from another, cannot tell cpfs from solos ...

As fans of c-ent, we’re in this together. ❤️💛💚

#pie metas

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peterprkrsbtch · 3 years

Text

sapphire - part 1

Peter Parker x reader

A/N: This is some type of wish fulfillment writing for me because I like to imagine becoming a hot and badass superhero when I fall asleep and I thought other people may be entertained as well :) If you enjoy it, like or reblog to share!

REMINDER: in this story, the reader gains superpowers and I do describe the appearance of her body. i hope you know every body is a superhero body and weight does not impact your beauty at all-i just needed to show how drastic the changes were!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, attempted kidnapping, guns/violence

The sun that came beaming through your window brightly as you opened the blinds in your room immediately brought a small smile to your face. Summer had always been your favorite season. As smart as you were, a three month break from Midtown has never sounded better. Junior year had not been easy for you.

Small goosebumps appear on your arms as you shiver when the memory of that night crosses your mind.

***

You’d been walking home after your first day of school, distracted as images of the day flicker through your mind. The first day was always exciting, new classes and people. Probably why you were too distracted to notice the man creeping up behind you until he wrapped his hands around your backpack and yanked it off of your back, making you let out a yelp of surprise.

Or, he’d tried to. Unfortunately, this dumb ass criminal didn’t know how backpack straps work and when he tugged, the straps caught around your arms and yanked you off your feet, slamming your body into your attacker with a groan.

Panic immediately clouded your mind. You’d never been mugged before. You try desperately to remember anything from the self defense class you’d taken in seventh grade. The attacker seemed surprised that your bag hadn’t slid off your body and this gave you the opportunity to scream. “Help!” You shrieked. “Somebody!” It was the middle of the day in New York and yet, the street you were walking was dead empty.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man growled in your ear and you suddenly became aware of his death grip on your arm. Before you could contemplate punching him in the face or kneeing his dick, a sharp poke on your arm made you whip your head, just in time to see a needle full of glowing blue liquid being injected into your arm by the man. He hadn’t wanted your backpack at all.

The shock you felt as you watched the unfamiliar substance enter your body was amplified at the burning sensation quickly spreading from the injection site to your whole upper arm. The man lets out a harsh laugh, and you finally turn to see his face. He did not look like a homeless man. Or a thief. The sight of his groomed beard and expensive jacket made you feel like you’d been plunged in ice. What the hell was happening?

“What did you do to me?” The sound of your voice is much stronger than you expect it to be, and it helps to ease a couple of the butterflies going mental inside your stomach. At least you didn’t sound terrified. He just lets out a low laugh and begins to drag you by your backpack towards a car parked on the opposite side of the road you hadn’t noticed until now.

“You’re coming with me.”

The burning had spread to your entire left arm and was now taking over your left shoulder. If you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins due to your current situation, you would’ve been doubled over with pain. You struggle against the man’s hold on your backpack as he drags you closer to the large black SUV.

Hell no. I am not getting kidnapped today. You force yourself to calm enough to quickly think of a plan. Any plan. When the man reaches the car despite your struggling, a disgusting sneer on his face, he lets go of his grip on your arm to reach for the handle, and you take your chance to head-butt him as hard as you possibly can-letting your arms slide out of the backpack as you do.

“Ow! Get back here you little bitch!” But it’s too late. In the two seconds when the man doubles over to clutch at his head, you’d snatched your backpack from the ground where he’d let it fall and sprinted down the street. You try to tell yourself that the unbearable burning sensation now settling into your chest is from running, not from whatever the fuck he’d injected you with.

***

A loud beep, beep from the clock on your bedside table snaps you out of reminiscing on your near death experience and a large smile grows on your face. Finally it was 5 p.m, the time when your mom usually went over to her boyfriend’s apartment across town. Every night, like clockwork, since you were 13.

It used to bother you, but now the silence gives you the opportunity to do what you needed to do alone. You get up and move towards your closet as you let your mind slip into your memories again as you reminisce on the events after the attack.

***

You’d run home like hell and had never been so grateful to find that your mom had left early. Within ten minutes, the burning had spread and you were left to writhe around in pain on your bed for hours. There was no let up, no break. You knew you were going to die.

Whatever the man had injected in you was breaking apart every muscle, every atom in your body so slowly that you could feel it. Eventually, your pained screams became quieter as exhaustion began to take over. This is it. I’m really going to die. My mom is going to come home and find me like this-

Before you could finish your thought, a harsh gasp involuntarily left your mouth and you launch forward to sit up. Okay, maybe I’m not going to die. You thought as the pain suddenly ceases. You slowly bring your hands up to stare at them, scared that the pain will return. Just as you’re about to let out a breath of relief, it hits you again.

And it’s so much worse. The burning sensation shoots through your body, and every broken muscle and molecule felt as though it was being bound together again. The minutes bleed together as exhaustion and pain take over your body.

***

Looking back, you still have no idea what was in the injection. All you know is what happened because of it.

***

Beep, beep.

BEEP, BEEP.

The incessant beeping of your stupid alarm wakes you from quite possibly the weirdest dream you’ve ever had. You’ve never had pain in a dream feel so vivid before, and the memory alone draws your body inwards, hugging your arms in for comfort.

Your arms. Hold on.

They didn’t feel like this last night. You glance down at your skin, the shadow of your blanket making it hard to see. You rip the covers off and storm over to your full length mirror-and all you can do is let out a gasp. I’m going crazy.

With shaking hands, you grab your phone and unlock it, scrolling until you find a mirror selfie you had taken at the pool over summer, just two weeks ago. You glance at the photo, then back up at the mirror. Then at the photo, then the mirror. Photo, mirror, photo.

A shocked laugh rips through your lips as you stare at the photo of yourself. Smooth skin and curves. A couple extra pounds of baby fat you had yet to lose, a spot or three of acne on your forehead. You weren’t an extraordinarily insecure person, but you were a teenage girl and a couple of those things had bugged you but-

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror. You run your hands along your arms. You used to describe them as flabby, but you can feel and see the toned, tight skin. You move your eyes to your boobs. Were they bigger? They definitely looked bigger.

Any “baby fat” you carried had seemingly disappeared overnight. You slowly lift your shirt and let your jaw drop, running your hands over your small waist, not missing the muscle you can feel under your skin. Your skin was perfectly clear and your hair and lashes both seemed longer and healthier.

When you were younger and more naive, you’d hoped puberty would involve waking up one morning looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. But that was stupid. Things like that don’t happen, right?

Slowly, the events of yesterday began to register in your mind. The attack, the injection, the pain. A million questions flooded your mind. The most prominent being what the actual fuck??

“Y/n? You almost ready to leave for school?” Your mom’s voice rings out into your silent room as she knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah, Mom! Just a couple minutes.” You call out nervously, waiting until you hear her footsteps walk away from your door. You let out a curse as you race into the bathroom, the harsh lighting illuminating even more changes to your face.

Your lips were bigger, your eyes more open, and your cheekbones and jaw more defined. Fuck. If you weren’t so worried about anyone noticing your overnight transformation, you would’ve taken more time to think about the positives of this situation.

You were always shy and quiet at school, choosing a small group of people to hang around and mostly focusing on your classes. But every teenage girl dreams of being beautiful, and now you finally were. You pull your hair up to brush your teeth and wash your face faster than you ever have before, electing to ignore the fact that you should have a nasty bruise from your head-butt yesterday.

You choose to skip makeup completely, knowing it would draw more attention to your new face. You took one last look at your body in the mirror before pulling on the baggiest sweats you owned and a loose hoodie, hoping they would mask your new curves.

You had no idea how you were supposed to hide this all year.

***

You smiled as you remember how silly you’d acted the next day. You were overly paranoid, covering your face with your hoodie as much as you could and choosing to sit alone in the library rather than at your usual table. No one questioned you, not once.

You had felt a pang of loneliness at first, knowing that no one at your school even cared enough to notice the obvious change had hurt just a bit, but it made dealing with the powers easier.

***

You’d first noticed it on the walk to school. It was barely September and the summer sun was still coming down on the city. This paired with your heavy layers of clothing and the long walk to school would normally leave you slightly breathless. As you arrived at the school feeling more energized and alive than ever, you noticed you’d gotten there in a fourth of your normal time without even trying.

You next noticed it in gym, when the daily pushups the teachers forced you all to do every year were suddenly easy. Effortless. As soon as the final bell rang, you ran home within minutes without feeling winded at all and winced as you threw your door open, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges.

Something else was definitely going on. Your appearance was not the only thing that seemed to go through an upgrade. You said a quick hello to your mom before running up to your room.

For the first time since you woke up that morning, you relaxed once your door was closed and locked. Your shoulders release as you sink to your bed, dropping your head into your hands. You try to recall anything you’ve read about people being totally changed after some sort of injection.

Your heart sinks. Captain America jumps to mind. The Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff and her dead brother. They’d all been injected.

You bite your lip and glance at a book sitting on your bedside table. You straighten up and thrust your hands towards the book, trying to make it move. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. You close your eyes and breath out a small breath of relief. Ok so I’m beautiful now and have great endurance, at least I’m not a superhero. You let yourself relax slightly, your eyes still closed. Now you feel dumb for throwing your hands around like some kind of knock off Scarlet Witch.

When you open your eyes, your blood runs cold. The book is floating in front of you, a blue glow surrounding it. Slowly, you raise your, now shaking, hands again towards the book until they flash with the same blue and it launches towards you, the force of it making you rock back as you catch it in your hands.

Well. Fuck.

***

After that, you were thankful that no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. You bite down a smile as you remember the first few months after, thinking about how much you’d changed since then.

***

You spent nearly every night for weeks studying every superhero fight video you could find on youtube and practicing the moves alone in your empty house, over and over.

It didn’t take much for you to perfect them as your new body seemed to be built for this kind of shit. Black Widow was your favorite to watch, and you made sure to spend extra time working through her signature moves, letting the flips, kicks, and punches become muscle memory.

You spent time practicing your real powers as well, though those seemed to come to you naturally. After that first delay with the book, it had almost felt like second nature to lift up the heaviest objects in your house with just a wave of the hand, but still, you practiced. Over and over and over. You quickly learned you could move people as well, namely yourself. Flying over New York in the middle of the night was something that would always leave you breathless.

Once winter settled over New York, you decided you were finally ready to try and use your abilities for good. You had near perfect control over your “magic” and you were pretty sure you’d spent more hours in the past month punching the air than sleeping.

You spent all day Sunday bent over the dusty sewing machine you dug out of a shelf in your kitchen closet. The trip to Joann’s reminded you of your mother teaching a younger you how to sew, though you two never bought yards of spandex to make a skin tight suit.

It had taken a couple minutes for you to remember how to use the machine, but you were extremely proud of the final product. You’d made a simple skin tight black suit with a zipper up the front and a mask to cover most of your face, but you figured no one could recognize you by just your mouth.

Once you finished the last hem on your face mask, you took the suit and the mask and hid them in your closet next to a pair of black combat boots. You put the dusty machine away and finally made your way into your bathroom, glancing nervously at the box on the counter.

Although you had exactly zero friends at Midtown, you had grown up with some of these kids and you couldn’t risk one of them recognizing your hair color if they saw you in your superhero suit and the box advertising temporary spray on hair color seemed to be the perfect solution.

You take the small can out of the box and spray blonde-ish highlights into your hair and brush it through until your long hair is shades lighter than your natural color and you’re happy with the results.

Your hands shook as you pulled on your suit, then your mask, and finally, the black boots. You move to your mirror and nervously give yourself a glance, only to be pleasantly surprised. You really do look like a superhero, even more so when you will your hands to glow blue with your powers.

***

That night, you learned that you had severely underestimated yourself. You thought memories of your own attack would flash before your eyes every time you knocked down a criminal, but it didn’t.

Every time you would wrap your thighs around someone’s neck to drag them to the ground you felt strong and every time the person you just saved would begin to thank you aggressively, you knew you made the right decision to help people.

You kept your guard, and your hood, up during the school days but your months of training and now your late night rescues, had caused a spike in your confidence. After a particularly hard 18 vs. 1 fight in which your zipper had gotten yanked down a bit, you just left it. It looked better like that anyway.

You wished you had someone to show the new you. You used to be so unsure of yourself, and now because of a seemingly random attack, you had the ability to help people. It definitely felt good to be doing something good.

Unfortunately, your endeavors started to become sensationalized. New York was obsessed with superheroes, you knew this. But you never thought people would start paying attention to you.

You should’ve known better. A girl with enhanced curves in a skin tight suit, flying around the city with glowing blue hands and fighting crime with her front zipper pulled down, and you thought you could remain invisible in the media too?

Luckily for you, the spotlight was cast upon another new superhero around the same time-a Spiderman. Once he entered the superhero scene just weeks after yourself, you noticed the articles you’d previously seen sexualizing you and your costume turned into articles about the two of you instead. If only those reporters knew you were 17.

You were thankful for him even though you’d never met him, and your two names “Spiderman and Sapphire” were often used in the same headlines to discuss you two newcomers.

At first you hated the nickname the media gave you simply because of the increased attention, but you learned to love it. It was nice to see people appreciating what you were doing, even though every camera that was ever pointed your way made you anxious to protect your identity.

Ever since your first winter night spent fighting crime, you’d quickly fallen into a pattern. School with your eyes glued to your desk the whole time, sweats and hoodies concealing your body, then homework until your mom leaves, then go out and help your city.

Your fighting has improved to the point that you almost prefer hand to hand combat rather than using your powers. On especially slow nights, you’ve let yourself drag out a fight with some bank robbers or kidnappers just to entertain yourself.

It was your escape. In your suit, with your face covered and your hair thick with the lightening spray, was the only time you felt like yourself. Really yourself.

But you had a plan to change that. As easy as it had been to lay low throughout the last year at school, you’d had enough. You wanted more. So you had a plan. A new body and face overnight is impossible, but over three months? Totally plausible.

You were excited for three months with nothing to do but go out as Sapphire, and you knew these few months were going to be the calm before the storm if you really decided to go back to Midtown as the new you.

God, enough with the reminiscing. You told yourself, but you do allow yourself to feel pride at how much you’d matured from your first day of school this year to your last as you tug on your familiar suit and mask.

***

You glance down at the buildings beneath you, eyes silently scanning every dark alley and corner for trouble. Your hands glow blue as you fly yourself gracefully through the sky. Suddenly, loud sirens and screams sound from beneath you and you look down to see 8 large men climbing into a bank as they smashed the windows.

You quickly fly yourself down and through the hole behind the men as they point guns towards the only two people in the bank, a janitor and a man you assume is the manager. “Give us the fucking money.” One of the men growls and the others laugh menacingly at their friend’s threat.

The manager notices you standing behind the men and his eyes widen, causing the men to start to turn towards you. You grab the gun out of one of their hands using your powers and smirk at the oh, shit look on their faces. Before you can make a move to knock the man nearest you off his feet, a web snaps through the broken window and snatches the gun from his hands before you can blink.

Spiderman comes swinging through the opening, landing gracefully. “What’s going on here, fellas?” He asks, and you can’t help but smirk at the sound of his voice. The two of you seemed to live similar lives, and yet this was your first time meeting him.

The white eyes of his mask flicker from the men, frozen with fear, towards you, and his eyes grow with recognition and maybe shock? Hard to tell with the mask. He opens his mouth to say something else, but one of the men still holding guns raises it and fires towards Spiderman without a second of hesitation.

You raise your hand quickly, stopping the bullet in mid-air and everyone around you stares at the bullet suspended in mid-air, your glowing blue hand outstretched, almost as if you were catching it. Spiderman’s eyes widen even more. “Holy shit.”

You smile to yourself and clench your hand into a fist, letting the bullet crumble to the ground in dust. “Nice try.” You say to the man. “But you’re getting on my nerves.” You turn towards the 8 men in front of you, 5 still holding guns. You move your hand to face the men, and with a sweeping motion, the 5 guns are yanked from their hands to suspend far above their heads, where they couldn’t reach.

You can’t help a small laugh as one of the men tries to jump up and grab it. You turn towards Spiderman who’s standing there with his mouth wide open. “Sorry if I stole your moment.” You say genuinely. You had no doubt that he could’ve taken care of this himself, but you had gotten here first.

“Are you kidding?” He nearly squeaked. “That was amazing, oh my god! I can’t believe we haven’t met until now.” Your cheeks blaze slightly under your mask from his praise, you’ve never had a superhero compliment you before. You adjust your focus back to the men quickly, who seem to be thinking of a way to run.

Your eyes meet Spidey’s again. “You wanna web ‘em up?” He nods excitedly, his eyes finally breaking from yours as he jumps into action. As impressed as he was by you, you couldn’t help but watch in awe as he swings around the room and with a thwick, he webs all of the men together in a cocoon, hanging upside down from the chandelier of the bank ceiling.

He swings himself one last time to land next to you again. “Cool.” You say before you can even realize your mouth is open. “I mean, you’re not too bad yourself.” He bows his head a bit, seeming shy even though it was a half-compliment to cover up your embarrassment.

“Sorry to bust in on your fight,” He says, glancing around the room towards the two terrified employees staring at the two of you in shock. “Not a lot happening tonight, and I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ugh, I know.” You agree. “Not to complain about less crime, but our jobs have been a little bit too easy this past week.” His mask crinkles as he smiles.

“We could...work together sometime if you wanted too, of course.” He says nervously, nearly stuttering on his words. “It’s just, you’re really good and you seem really cool and I-”

You interrupt his word vomit. “Of course I want to! I’ve been wondering when we would meet.” His eyes move from staring at the eye holes in your mask down to your lips when you smile. “How’s tomorrow?”

“How’s right now?” You don’t think your smile can get wider. “One sec.” He holds up a finger before quickly running over to the two bank workers, who thank you both over and over and then they both hugged him. You were wrong, your smile grows and remains goofy and big as he runs back over to you. “Let’s go.”

That night you found out that your view of the city is 100 times better when you can also see a red and blue suit swinging from building to building out of the corner of your eye.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction

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combat-wombatus · 4 years

Text

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death.

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again.

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy!

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge

here’s the link to the music :)

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The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O Y O U W A N T T O F L Y W I T H M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

Masterlist

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