#last time i was really building was before concrete was added and god. it is so good

[arminsesposa]

Vampire pt.2 (Female Reader x Miles Morales)

Part 2 of Vampire! I don’t know how much parts this will be, but it’s short for a reason :) I will also try to incorporate lyrics, But might be adding different songs :p IM TRYING TO FIT IN WITH THE ATSV EVENTS SO BARE WITH ME/Lyrics in Red

DO NOT COPY MY WORK! Reblogs appreciated ♥️

You seemed to be hallucinating.. is what you wish was happening.

As you fell through the portal, part of you thought maybe you were hallucinating, as everything around was just bright glitchy colors. As you finally landed on the harsh concrete sidewalk. As you pushed your arms to pick yourself up the sudden stinging pain you felt on your knees as they were scraped badly. As you attempted to get off, brushing off the dust that landed on you, you took a look at your surroundings. Nothing seemed different yet something in your gut was giving you a bad feeling. As you stumbled up standing you took a look at your surroundings hoping you would recognize a nearby building or a street sign. As you continued to walk forward, you suddenly felt the pain from falling so harshly on the ground as you winced. “Oh fuck” you thought to yourself as you felt the pain with each step you walked. As you reached the end of the sidewalk you looked to the side to see a nearby Corner store. Your eyes instantly lit up as it was the corner store you would occasionally go with Miles when his Dad or Uncle would take you two to buy some snacks. You paused for a moment, thinking about Miles, as you realized how although everything happened, you missed him. You really needed him by your side. You also recalled the last moment you shared with Miles and his Uncle before he past away. As you took a deep Breath, before making your way inside the liquor store.

And every girl I ever talked to told me you were bad, bad news

As you entered the corner store, you felt a bad feeling in your stomach. A feeling like you wanted to puke. As if something bad was going to happen. Or Has happened. As the bell on top of the door rang, you made your way to the back of the store near the drinks. Your whole body was in pain as you looked through your bag for money, and luckily you found $5 behind your phone case when you removed it as a last sign of hope. As you held the $5, a Polaroid of You and Miles cuddled together at the park fell on the floor. Your eyes followed the Polaroid as it fell on the floor landing right below you. All you could do was stare blankly at the Polaroid. You and Miles were so happy, you remember that day vividly. You were the one who planned the date at a nearby park as He actually made it on time. You brought snacks as he brought his sketchbook and sketched almost a million drawings of you. The way he would stare at you to capture all your tiny details. Your heart fluttered as you two began to hold hands and acknowledged each others presence. Thankfully, to capture the moment, a stranger offered to take a Polaroid of you two for free for the “puppy love couple” as you two got close and posed. As you stared at the Polaroid, part of you wanted to scream and cry your heart out. How did this happen? You were both madly in love with each other as all of a sudden it all changed. He changed. Your heart changed. As you bent over to pick up the Polaroid off the floor to put back behind your phone.you heard a familiar laugh and voice as your heart dropped.“What’s good man?”

You called them crazy, God I hate the way I called them crazy too

As you slowly turned your head to the familiar voice, your eyes widened in fear. You froze in place as it felt like time seemed to stop. The bad feeling you felt earlier was correct as you made direct eye contact with Miles Uncle. He’s supposed to be dead. You felt your chest tighten at the somehow impossible situation your eyes were currently seeing. You remember, when Miles told you about the death of his uncle. How much he cried and was quiet most of the time. You were there for him, during the funeral, after when he needed to rant to someone about how unfair life was, or when he would give you the silent treatment when he didn’t have the strength to talk. You were there for Miles. You felt the hurt in his heart as he mourned the death of his Uncle. As your eyes widened in fear in the sight of Miles Uncle talking and laughing with the store owner. Something is wrong. Maybe this is all a dream? This is impossible , I mean we were at his funeral. This can’t be happening…Can it? As your mind quickly came up and brushed with thoughts, you didn’t realize yourself backing up into a nearby shelf as you dropped something. “What the hell was that?” The store owner exclaimed as Aaron glared at the back of the drink isles. You quickly ducked down hoping they didn’t see you as you ducked to the other isle as fast as you can as he approached the spot you once were. You hoped to yourself that this was all a bad dream and you would wake up to Miles sneaking into your room to cuddle. As you heard the footsteps approaching you had an impulse decision to run. And that’s what you did.

You’re so convincing, How do you Lie without flinching.

As you ran out of the store, the store owner yelled at you, thinking you stole something as you made eye contact with Miles Uncle. You could see his reaction to seeing you as his face dropped as he then immediately ran out of the store. As you raced out, the stinging pain came to you catching you off balance as all you could do was run. Your brain was surprised how much you could run as your legs didn’t stop. “Wait up!” Aaron Called out catching up to you as part of you didn’t want to look back. You wanted to believe this was all a dream. That you were hallucinating. As you ran to the end of the street, you turned back to see that Uncle Aaron was gone. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you felt the wounds from scraping your knees open up as you felt your warm blood on your knees. As the pain got worse with each step you took, you slowly made it almost to what you expected to be home. As you limped closer to your house, you heard a loud thud behind you. You felt a cold feeling run through your back as you didn’t want to turn back. Your body swayed as the adrenaline from the pain was completely gone. As you tried to take a few steps you felt your body on the concrete sidewalk once more. Your heart beat increased as you felt the footsteps that were once behind you, step in front of you. As your vision got blurry, you felt time freeze as you saw the prowler stand above you. Before you could even get up or try to do anything, everything went black.

Ooh, what a mesmerizing, paralyzing fucked- up little thrill

Meanwhile, Miles was beyond worried for you. Ever since that day he hasn’t seen you. He tried getting answers from your friends and siblings but to no appeal. Miles knew how badly he messed up and was willing to do whatever it takes. As he followed Gwen through the portal, he asked her for some advice. Gwen knew how much Miles loved you and tried to reassure Miles that there was nothing he could’ve done and something he couldn’t control. Miles tried to act like everything was okay, but deep down it was killing him. He was worried that something must’ve happened to you or even worse. The feeling of shame and guilt ate him alive. He wish he could’ve just been honest with you. As he found himself to be exiled and separated from the Spider Society, he realized how alone he was. He had no one. The one person who he truly loved him the most, was missing from his life, the society where he dreamed to be apart of were now all against him. As he found himself in the machine that was supposed to send him home, Miguel clawing his way to stop him all Miles could was look down. He didn’t know how all this could’ve happened. Miles stomach dropped. The feeling of Guilt and shame mixed in his stomach as he suddenly felt cold. His Spidey sense suddenly hit him like a truck as it caught him off guard. Miles took a step back as he immediately thought of you. Something was off. You were in danger. Miles eyes widened as he knew what he must do. He has to save you.

Can’t figure out just how you do it, and God knows I never will

Hope you enjoyed pt. 2 :)

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: Incorrect Eyes

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟷𝟽𝚝𝚑 || 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎

WELCOME BACK TO INCORRECT EYES SHENANIGANS!!

Over this past weekend some magic happened. I told y'all that I would be returning to Incorrect Eyes in an attempt to get it ready for my editor by the end of the month. Well, it's done! Within the span of two (2) says, I finished drafting and re-wrote all 10k words of Incorrect Eyes!

"Wait, I thought this was a novella, Andi? Isn't a novella at least 17.5k?"

Yeah, it is. That means that Incorrect Eyes is not a novella, but a novelette. This was something that I was hung up on for a long time, because I felt that the story was perfect in it's short form but I wanted to expand it. Well, I expanded it as far as I was comfortable doing and I landed at 10k.

Even still, I will be publishing this as a standalone! It will be roughly the same length as In The Hands of an Angry G-d by Claude Hamesh and I will be publishing just like they did!

More information will come as I have it! For now, I am waiting to receive the cover art from my lovely artist. I have also sent the revised draft to my amazing editor for whenever he has time to start working on it. I will be reaching out to an interior illustrator sometime this week about doing chapter illustrations and maybe also custom chapter headers. We'll see!

For now, let me leave you with the last sneak peek snippies for Incorrect Eyes before publication:

CW: Catholicism and the guilt and shame associated with it

But as I pass the church again, I stop. The church is beautiful; stark in contrast to the buildings around it. It puts them to shame, just as I remember my pastor back home doing. Shame. The one thing the church accurately teaches. Well, that and guilt. Two sides of the same coin, both telling me that I fucked up. What did I do? Doesn’t matter, I’m going to Hell either way. There’s a glint of something in the stained glass windows—almost like eyes tilted down on me in condescension—that asks me to come inside. Asks me to enter the confessional, to pray for my soul despite the years of sin I’ve accumulated since I’ve left the church. Despite the fact that I’ve turned my back on God. Despite everything.

And one more for good measure: (CW: injury, pain, blood, mentions of hallucinations)

The doors slam open as I hurtle my body weight through them. The impact slows me for only a moment before I’m stumbling through the threshold and falling down the steps in front of the building. I land hard on my knees and wrists, sliding across the concrete until I finally come to a stop. Streaks of red decorate the rough concrete, they’re all I’m able to focus on as I try to reign in my ragged breathing. My heart is pounding, my blood rushes in my ears. The swarm of eyes that had been following disperses into the corners of my vision once again, leaving me alone as I writhe in pain on the cold hard sidewalk. I hate this. I fucking hate all of this. I’m being used for entertainment, thrown around like a toy for something greater to watch. It makes me feel small, useless. Makes me want to crumple in on myself until there is nothing left. Water droplet stain the concrete below me as I start to cry. My head bows until my forehead kisses the ground and I let it all out. I try not to scream, I really do. Instead, I hear the pathetic whimpers that fall from my mouth as I let the pain run through my body.

TAGLIST

@winterandwords @crypticcodexcreations @inkspellangel @smol-feralgremlin @joswriting @love-whatit-loves @annetillney

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[dariacore2enterherehelltotheleft]

trying to get back into minecraft building! here’s a little house i did to start

[ackermanbitch]

Teenage Dirtbag (peter parker x fem!reader) Part One

a/n: i guess i felt like writing a series lol. just for context, this starts taking place during captain america civil war.

pairing: peter parker x fem!stark!reader

warnings: cussing

Part Two

"miss stark, it is six am." the automated voice came over the hidden speakers, jerking the young girl from her slumber. "already?" she groaned, lying back down and throwing her arm over her face. "WAIT 6?!" she shot up, looking at her door. "i thought i said 9 last night." she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"mister stark changed it before you went to bed ma'am."

she sighed, throwing her blanket off herself and reluctantly getting off of the large bed. "i'm so tired.."

stark tower was pretty quiet per usual as (y/n) made her way to the kitchen, which was a floor above her so it was a bit of a trip. "anything happening today friday?" she asked as she walked down the hall to the elevator, yawning.

"miss maximoff, mister rogers, miss romanoff and mister wilson have a mission i believe."

"cool, do i have to go?" she pressed the button, waiting for the elevator to open. "i think they would've told you beforehand if that was the case miss stark."

she nodded, "yup, you're right, as always. almost like you're an ai." she mumbled, stepping off the elevator and walking in to the kitchen. the lights turned on before she could do it herself making her look at the ceiling in feigned confusion, "god?"

"you're absolutely hilarious (y/n)." her dad's voice said monotonously. "i know." she chuckled, turning to look at him as he entered the kitchen as well. "good morning to you too dad."

"morning kiddo, glad to see you're up." he patted her head as he walked past her to the mug cabinet.

"um yeah, why am i up?" the teen asked, eyeing her dad with an angry glint in her eye. "stuff." he answered, watching the coffee brew. "there's a mission today, y'know." he added. her eyebrows scrunched up, "i don't think i have anything to do with it though?" she said with confusion.

"yeah but it's pretty important, you might wanna be ready just incase." he told her. "really? c'mon, i have like- plans and stuff." she whined, digging around in the pantry. "we're out of honey buns?!"

"plans with who?" tony asked, looking back at her.

"ummm.. yeah okay i don't have plans but i really don't wanna go out today, i'm sooo tired. also we're out of honey buns. oh, maybe we could hang out! you're not going, are you?" (y/n) asked, wandering around the kitchen to find a good snack. "maybe i'll order..."

"no i'm not but that doesn't mean i'm free. tony stark and iron man have different jobs. giving the BARF presentation today." he sighed, asking friday to wake the rest of the team up.

the young girl groaned dramatically, "god it's so boring here all alone though. and no one at school likes me cause they assume that just because im rich and my dad is tony stark i'm automatically an asshole."

"i mean, you are pretty insufferable sometimes." a new voice interrupted, followed by a laugh.

"shut up sam."

-

now (y/n) sat on top of a building, looking down at the crowded streets with a laptop and phone with her. she was backup again, keeping a keen eye over the avengers like every 15 year old should be doing on the weekend.

her powers weren't mary sue or anything but if she used them the right way they were pretty powerful. she called it glitching and her dad called it spatial jumping. being able to teleport anywhere physically. like any power it has a downside, if she teleported too much in a small amount of time, one of her limbs might jump without her leaving her without an arm or a leg. it happened once but she was able to blink back to it fast enough to bring the arm back to its rightful place but it still took weeks of physical and mental recovery.

she tapped her fingers on her leg, waiting for the signal to jump in and help. every now and then, natasha would check in over comms. she sighed, lying against the concrete of the roof.

a deafening explosion made her sit up, immediately popping up next to steve, a bit of blue particles floating around her. "oh my fucking god.." she whispered, staring at the mostly standing building.

"sam, we need fire and rescue on the south of the building." steve said, slightly exasperated.

(y/n) turned, looking at wanda, "what...happened?"

the red head stayed silent, her hand still covering her mouth.

-

"it's not your fault wanda.." (y/n) mumbled, sitting on the other girl's bed.

"it is, i blew up that building! i did more damage than the people we were fighting against (n/n)." wanda yelled, holding her head in her hands.

"well yeah but- yes, you did do that but what matters is that you didn't intend to hurt anybody. those weird terrorist guys wanted to hurt people, you didn't. you're just a kid, like me. you shouldn't be given this responsibility in the first place."

"i chose this, i wanted to help people with my powers..." she said quietly.

(y/n) sighed, pulling wanda into a tight hug. "you're just not ready yet. my dad, super awesome, philanthropist hero, used to create and sell bombs. i'm sure you of all people know that. his creations ended so many innocent lives but here he is now. using his talents for good. people change, wanda."

"are you saying i should change..?"

"no! no, no, no, of course not. i'm saying-... you know what, i'm really bad at pep talks.." she mumbled, looking up at the sound of steve walking in.

"yay. cap can help you, sorry, i have to run anyway." (y/n) kissed wanda's cheek before running off.

(y/n) sighed in relief as she walked down the hall, pushing the door to her room open and falling onto her bed. "i want honey buns.." she whispered, lifting her legs into the air and staring at her shoes.

she rolled over on to her stomach, picking up her now ringing phone and holding it to her ear. "god i cant catch a break..... this is the cooler stark! what's up?"

"um, (y/n), it's peter."

"who?"

"peter parker. you wanted me to help with your extra credit? because you uh had some trouble on your math test." the brunette said a tad awkwardly.

(y/n) cleared her throat, "oh my god, peter parker, hi! i like- totally forgot, avengers stuff you know?"

"ha, yeah, must be pretty stressful.."

"extremely. did you wanna like meet up or something? i can't really remember what we even planned." she laughed nervously, looking at her nails.

"oh well you said you wanted to come to my place, uh rather than yours because your dad would 'lose his balls' if you brought a boy over.." peter mumbled, voice breaking every couple words.

(y/n) laughed out loud, "yup, pretty much. i'll just come over whenever, could you text your address?"

"alright, sounds good then, see y-"

she hung up, shoving her phone in her pocket before aptly leacing her room. "friday, tell my dad i'm going out please." she called out, speed walking down the halls before someone could stop and bother her with more bullshit. she just wanted to meet up with this nerd so she could make it to the next grade without summer school. it really sucked being a stark without without the whole super intelligent gene. (y/n) was obviously intelligent, just not the way her dad was. since the day she was diagnosed with discalculia, she held a deep hatred for anything math related.

"i really wish i slept in.." she grumbled, sitting on the floor of the elevator as it went down.

a/n: can u tell i made this up as i went? idek but it will get better, promise and i will use punctuation in the next one, just didn't feel like it this time :) see ya.

[unstoppableforcce]

dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste—no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue. 

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief. 

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger. 

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused. 

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out. 

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed. 

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile. 

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out. 

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve. 

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up. 

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily. 

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top. 

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench. 

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice. 

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp. 

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger. 

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

the way I love you // tom holland x reader

a/n: hello my lovelies! it’s been a little while since I posted something, this piece has fully been kicking my butt but she’s finally here and I hope you like her even if she is a little rough around the edges. as always, love to know what you think. also, I will do an official post regarding rules but from here until I close them my * REQUESTS ARE OPEN * my 10th piece of writing (WHAT) is a requested piece that I'm so excited to share with you guys and the lovely human who requested it, so stay tuned for that but in the meantime, sending all the love, and I hope you're all staying safe out there, please enjoy! x 

word count: 2.1K warning: swearing, lil bit of angst if you squint summary: your best friend tom is helping you move in, but you have a secret and it’s been making things difficult. it’s time to fess up. 

The rain thumped against the windows, droplets eagerly chasing each other to the bottom. The wind whistled, branches reaching out as the trees shook. Soft wispy curtains were pulled tight to keep the cold, stormy weather locked outside. Yet the sounds of cars speeding through the flooded roads could still be heard from the storeys above. The room was almost bare, the orange glow of the streetlights casting warm shadows upon the wooden floorboards. A couple of unopened cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall. One section of the room was lowly lit with battery-operated soft, twinkling fairy lights and flickering candles. The floor was decorated with a few cosy blankets and pillows. Half eaten cartons of sushi sat abandoned alongside a takeaway pizza box full of cheesy crusts. A laptop balanced precariously on one of the boxes, movie already playing. “Happy move-in day,” a voice whispers, just grazing past your ear. You lay on your front on the floor, wrapped up in an exceptionally fluffy blanket. Your best friend is sat semi cross-legged with his knees up, arms hooked around them, the pair of you only a breath apart. You turn your head lazily in his direction, unable to hide the grin from your face as he cocks his head, mimicking you with his own cheesy smile - noses almost touching. “Thanks for helping me out. Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?” “Oh, not nearly enough.” He nudges your side, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. You laugh, causing his face to soften at your expression before you focus your attention back to the small screen. Tom frowns slightly as you turn away, keeping his eyes on you as he drinks you in slowly. Your hair was almost completely dry from the rainstorm, and had begun curling at the ends and around your hairline, one piece had fallen across your face which he ached to tuck back into place behind your ear. You had a light flush across your cheeks, eyes shining bright as your face slackened, concentrating on the film. He let out a soft sigh before swallowing, dragging his eyes away from you and back to the movie. **** It hadn’t taken long for you and tom to gravitate closer to each other, a chill making its way through the apartment as you were yet to install a new heating system. You were tucked into his side, head resting gently against his shoulder, breaths synchronising. You shifted slightly, yet Tom kept a protective arm around you. A black screen took over the laptop as the credits started rolling. Tom let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he slowly sat up, bringing you with him. “I better go, it’s late and I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow. Plus you still have unpacking to do…” he teases, collecting some of the empty cartons. You nod, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and gathering it around your waist as you hit pause on the laptop. Stretching your body out, you could already feel the twinges in your back from sitting on the hard floor. The sky had darkened considerably, storm worsening behind the curtains, rain lashing down hard. You glance across at tom, watching as he steps foot into the kitchen, tiding up the rubbish into a neat pile. You bite your lip slightly as you give him a once over. His hair was unruly, eager for a styling from Rachel as it attempted to curl against his forehead, and you could see where he’d been running his hands through it all day. You loved how relaxed he looked in your presence, allowing himself to be slightly unkempt and messy. You watched his mouth and eyebrows twitch animatedly as he cleaned up the kitchen, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie rolled up his forearms. Suddenly he looked up, eyes directly locking with yours and your felt your face flush. “Stop staring at me you div,” he teased, as his face breaking out into a grin, eyes creasing at the sides, still locked with yours. “Calm down movie star, you ain’t all that,” you laugh nervously, internally berating yourself for getting caught in a trance as you pick up the rest of the rubbish and join Tom in the kitchen, blanket slouched around your shoulders and trailing behind you. Truth was, something had changed during the last film Tom had been away filming for. Tiny butterflies would dance in your stomach whenever your phone pinged with a new message or silly photo he’d sent you. You brushed it off at first, thinking you were just missing his company. But by the time he got back, you felt nervous and giddy around him and everything was weird. It wasn’t until one day you found yourself waking up with a start as he began to infiltrate your dreams when you realised you were feeling very differently for your best friend than you’d ever felt before. “This place is nice, but I still don’t know why you turned us boys down though? Harrison said he asked before I came back and you said no?” he wondered aloud, miming an arrow through his heart as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You laugh at his antics but wrap the blanket that little bit tighter around yourself, finding the floor of your building suddenly extremely interesting. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us lot already? We’ve been together too long for you to ditch us all now.” He gives you a little nudge in the arm with his elbow. You took a deep breath, shaking your hair out of your face. “I’ll still be round all the time. I literally live on the other side of the park,” you laugh as he pouts, “Tom, it’s not even 20 minutes away.” “Still doesn’t explain why you won’t move in with us?” You sigh, your frustration building. “Just leave it,” you snap, adding a quieter “please” after a beat. There’s a stifling silence as you both walk down the concrete staircase, you twist the mechanical lock on the front door and wait for the buzz as it clicks and opens up to the world outside.

Tom whistles at the torrential storm as he steps outside, trees were bending over, leaves billowing in the wind. The steps up to the building were gathering puddles of water and you could already see the road ahead was beginning to flood.

“Oh my god.”

The pair of you quickly throw the trash into the bin that was sitting at the bottom of some basement level steps.

“Listen, but I only ask because...it’s just, you’ve been a bit off since I came back from Atlanta. if it wasn’t for Harrison telling me he couldn’t make it today, you wouldn’t have even asked me to help you move in? What’s up with that?” he asks, standing behind you, shielding you from as much of the rain as he could.

“I just thought you’d be busy, y’know. What with being away for so long.”

“And? It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before. Seriously though, did I do something wrong? Did the boys? Because you can tell me.”

“Tom it’s nothing. Seriously, quit it.” Avoiding his stare, you shake your head and turn on your heel in an attempt to push the door back open but it stays firmly shut. You twist the handle multiple times as it jangles in response, remaining firmly locked. You freeze in immediate panic, feeling your pockets for your keys which were still sitting on your kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, no. No fucking way.”

“What? What is it?” He reaches a hand over your shoulder and gives the door a shove, “Is it stuck?”

“No tom, it’s locked! The wind must’ve closed it! I’ve left my apartment open and the keys are on the kitch – fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey it’s fine. Calm down. Hey, maybe if you lived with us we wouldn’t be having this problem…” he joked, pulling off his hoodie as thunder rumbled in the distance, the rain bouncing down onto the two of you.

“Now is really not the time Tom!” You exclaim, feeling your heart-rate spike, anxious about being locked out on your very first day living alone.

“Would you calm down, we’ll sort it. Your doors just unlocked, it’s not like you left it wide open.” 

“If you hadn’t been asking so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have forgotten my keys in the first place!”

“Really?! You’re blaming me for caring about you? Alright listen, I just wanted to know what’s going on with you. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong! Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Oh my god, fine! You want to know so badly? It’s you, okay!” You shout, whirling around now standing chest to chest, you could feel your eyes burning with the tears you were fighting back, “You’re the reason I can’t move in with you guys! Because I hoped that this feeling would go away. If I avoided you it would go away and things would be normal and nothing would change. But that’s not the case!” You gulped in a breath, refusing to look into the deep brown eyes that were staring at you, so wide and confused, “That’s not the case, because every time I’m with you I feel like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest. I get these stupid knots in my stomach whenever you so much as send me a fucking text. Sitting together in there side by side, alone together, casually watching a film and all I can think about is god, I wish he’d just kiss me! I don’t want to fall in love with you because this,” you gesture between the two of you, “what we are, it’ll all be gone and I’ll have ruined everything. And I can’t Tom. I can’t deal with that. So, there you go. I’m in love with you, and I hate myself for it. So, what? Are you happy now?! Does that clear everything up for you!”

Tom froze.

Your chest heaves, the tears that you let fall mixing in with the rain, leaving you sniffling. You push your soaking wet hair out of your face, roughly wiping your cheeks as you turn and hit the buzzer for the apartment block, banging your fist on the main door. 

“C’mon!”

Tom stood silently, still frozen outside your apartment entrance, the rain so heavy it was bouncing off of his clothes. His curls were flattened, droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his eyelashes. his t-shirt was already drenched by the rain, fabric clinging to his frame. He blinks, once, twice then once more, his jaw unclenching.

He reaches forwards, fingertips lightly caressing your hand, his featherlight touch pulsating through your entire body.

You tear your hand away from him, a gasp letting loose, “Don’t.”

He perseveres, pulling you round, more forcefully this time until you are nose to nose again.

Your body shivers in the cold, wet air as you stare at the ground. Tom’s firm grip around your wrists.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as you exhale breathily.

He lets go of you, your hands curled into small fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

One hand lifts your chin to his level, his thumb softly collecting the mixture of tears and rain from beneath your eyes and brushing them away.

“I wish you’d just told me. It would’ve saved you all this hurt.”

His left hand comes up and tucks the soaking wet pieces of hair that has been whipping around your face in the wind gently behind your ear. Stroking the stray strands. 

Your teary, glistening eyes connect with his. They were alive with such care and concern. Before you knew it, that feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, pulling and twisting in knots as you stared into the eyes of the boy you loved. 

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering when all of a sudden, the hand that had brushed your tears away cradles the side of your head, bringing your faces together, the other hand lightly fluttering to your waist, pulling you in closer. 

The rain continued to fall, the two of you completely oblivious as your lips brush, foreheads pressed together. It’s soft and slow, almost uncertain at first before immediately intensifying, the two of you pushing your bodies against each other. You take a breath as he strokes your cheek and your lips with his thumb, pulling you back in for another gentle kiss with a hand to the back of your head, tangling in your soaking hair as he presses your faces closer together. 

The pair of you pull away, both your chests heaving as you exhale. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask, voice raspy. 

“Because. that’s the way I love you. Not just as a friend. And for years, I sat on it, too scared to ruin what we have.”  You shake your head, as a couple of bubbles of laughter spill from your lips. Tom’s face brightens up quickly, those little creases that you loved so much appearing at the outward corners of his eyes as he whispered, “C’mere. I got you.” 

He pulled you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist, his body cold under your hands. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, still in perfect time with your own. He tucked his chin so it was resting atop your head. His arm hadn’t moved, still cradling the back of your head, pressing you ever so carefully into his chest, the two of you just resting in each others embrace as the rain eased up slightly around you.

There was a beat, as you both relaxed into each other. 

“So, I'm glad we solved one problem, but you do know we’re still locked out, right?” Tom says as the pair of you burst out laughing. 

[yoichichi]

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 1 - study buddies

warning(s): swearing, early early mornings 😵‍💫, second hand embarrassment LOL

a/n: ahhhhh!! Here’s chapter one of my first series!! I have the masterlist and details linked above but for some quick info: this is a college!au multi chapter fic about tsuki and the reader :) if you’d like to be added to the taglist let me know!! And as always I really appreciate your thoughts and comments n all that :) my inbox is always open!!! Enjoy <3 psps - don’t forget to check out the playlist linked above hhehehe

You’re not sure what woke you first; your alarm, the pain shooting up your back from the stiff cot your university has the audacity to refer to as a “bed”, or your own sour attitude from having to be up so early.

Five am. Five am. It takes a certain kind of sick and twisted individual to suggest meeting up to study at five in the morning. Although, you have to admit, it does take a different kind of person to actually agree to those terms.

Why, why, why, why, why.

Is the mantra you chant to yourself while you mindlessly dress and pack your bag, not even bothering to snatch a power bar from your nightstand for breakfast. Water will have to do.

You make an effort to click the door shut behind you quietly, not wanting to wake up your more than sweet dorm mate who’d surely be focusing on being just as careful as you were right now.

“Oh my gosh, don’t you have that study date in the morning sweetie? You should be sleeping right now.” Bonnie, said dorm mate, leans over the back of your desk chair to peer down at the page of your calculus ll textbook you’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. Concern is evident in her voice and her body language as she brings up a hand to gingerly rub your shoulder, hoping her small sideways smile will give you a sense of comfort. Or maybe even convince you to give it, and yourself, a rest.

“I know, I know. I just want to be prepared is all. I’m already dropping past a C at the speed of light and I’m sure my professor thinks I’m an idiot, hence him actually setting me up with a tutor, and I don’t need this guy to think I’m one too.” Your head falls in your hands at the end of your sentence, a dramatic groan feeling needed to really emphasize your point, too.

“Okay, just head to bed soon.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head before crawling into her own bed, using a storage container to prop herself onto it properly. She almost made you homesick with the way she doted on you like she was your mother.

You looked over and tapped the screen of your phone to see it read 9:14, not too late. You could reasonably cram in one more lesson.

You scoffed at yourself with the door fully shut and locked. You should’ve listened to Bonnie when you had the chance, it was just past midnight when you finally tore yourself away from last weeks review and decided to get ready for bed. Barely even four hours later and you’re up and getting ready to look at it all again.

You could at least appreciate how quiet the dorm hall was this ea-

“Mornin’, you!”

You internally banged your head against the wall at the bright voice that came towards you with such heavy and loud footsteps, how can someone’s footsteps manage to be so loud on carpet?

You substituted a hello with a gentle smile and wave as your R.A., who definitely didn’t remember your name - which is fine cause you didn’t remember theirs either, rushed past you.

Sighing deeply, you left the warm confines of the dorm building and stepped into the cold and brisk morning, starting your trek to the library.

He couldn’t have even chose a coffee place or something?

You had some, thoughts, about this guy. You didn’t know much about him, only two things.

One, his name: Tsukishima Kei.

Two, he was a good enough student to be assigned to you as a tutor.

You swallowed your slight embarrassment at the thought of your professor reaching out to someone on your behalf and instead chose to focus more on how weird this guy has to be.

Waking up before the sun rises on a Sunday was not something you looked forward to, you don’t think anybody would truly; especially to meet someone for the first time; yet this guy thinks it’s a great idea. So much so he didn’t even think to ask first, just tell you when and where to meet.

Thursday 4:14 pm

- ‘It’s Tsukishima. See you at 5 in the library this sunday.’

- ‘Oh hi!! Oh ok, am or pm?? lol’

Thursday 7:43 pm

- ‘am.’

- ‘Ok cool, see ya then!’

And that was it. Neither of you have texted since, which was three days ago on a Thursday afternoon. It kind of bothered you really, I mean, what kind of self righteous ass-

You took a deep breath and chose to think happy thoughts instead. You’d much rather be in a somewhat pleasant mood when you meet this guy than have some grudge against a stranger. And he probably talks different than he texts, right? You’re sure he didn’t mean to sound like a complete jerk.

You shook your head as if you were shaking away your thoughts as you started to walk along the path to the library. It was a fairly nice walk, about five minutes, and being alone was kind of peaceful on the way there this early.

Your feet shuffled only slightly on the cold concrete surprisingly enough considering the way your fatigue was starting to creep into your joints - but surely the cold wasn’t helping.

It was that kind of morning cold that stung your nostrils when you breathed in and tickled your cheeks and ears. It made your hands clench and unclench in your coat pockets, debating whether or not it’d be worth it to pull the cold metal of your jacket zipper just a centimeter higher in hopes of keeping your neck warmer. The morning fog leaving droplets on the synthetic material of your coat, making it squeak awfully when you moved your arms. And there was the dew on the grass that’d cling onto the tops of your shoe when you had to walk through it.

But the way the old fashioned light posts lit your walk and illuminated the fog kind of made your slight discomfort worth it. And by the time you reached the tall brick library, you could almost say you were in a pleasant mood, almost. And then you remembered why you were here.

You took one final deep breath as you reached the heavy doors of the university library. It was a grand sight really.

The building had its own separate spot on campus, towering at about four stories high, which although didn’t sound ginormous, it definitely felt that way when you had to climb those stairs to the top floor for a book you really didn’t even want. The brick with the foliage creeping up the sides to cover some of the lower windows even gave it an almost magic feeling when you took it in from the outside, it’s too bad that sense of wonder couldn’t be mirrored on the inside.

It was too quiet, especially this early, it smelt almost stale, and everything seemed to have a layer of dust no matter how new a book was. And the bathrooms? Old. Most stalls didn’t even have usable locks at this point. It’s arguably all apart of the charm of such an old building, but it’s not as charming when you have to reach out to keep the stall door closed with your fingertips just to use the restroom. And the water from the sink that never seems to get warm enough when you wash your hands doesn’t help either. Yet the water fountains are always too warm curiously enough.

You made little to no noise besides the occasional rustling of your jacket and squeaking of your shoes as they padded across the dingy off-colored carpet towards the back of the first floor.

There were various sizes of tables spread out throughout the space, few actually matching in color or style. The chairs varied less - but you could still find the oddball desk chair, or the chair with the wooden frame just a tad to wide to feel like a normal seat but just as evenly too small to be a bench.

Your heavy eyes surveyed the dimly lit space in hopes of finding any sign of human life when you finally noticed a backpack haphazardly tossed onto a table, still zipped open. Pens were splayed across the table with a single notebook, scribbles scrawled across the pages too far from you to be read. Not seeing anyone occupying the seat pulled away from the tables edge, you took out your phone to take a peek at the time.

4:58 am

Wow, I’m early?

Shoving your phone back into your pocket you began to make your way towards the (un)occupied table, debating whether a seat closer or farther would be more polite.

If I sit too close that’ll definitely be-

“Hey.”

You felt your shoulders hunch up to your ears and a small gasp leave your mouth at the way the voice behind you so suddenly interrupted your train of thought.

You turned around to come face to face with the voice.

“Are you (y/n)?”

Damn. He’s kinda tall.

Kind of was certainly an understatement. God he was definitely above 6 feet, 6’2” maybe? No, maybe even a little taller.

A single earbud was still in his ear as the other hung down and rested against his chest. He took the time to take the other out and wrap the cord gently around his middle and index finger before shoving it into his coat pocket, presumably the same one with his phone, in an effort to prevent them from getting tangled most likely. He took a deep breath and eyed you up and down before chuckling softly to himself.

“Okay.”

The tall man, who you’re now beginning to realize is Tsukishima, gives you a quizzical stare with a quirked eyebrow as he looks you up and down one last time, definitely judging you and your silence at this point, before turning around and making his way to a table.

Well it’s a good thing he stopped you before you sat at some other strangers table. You don’t think your heart could’ve taken that today.

You watched his back as he made his way towards a table farther into the back, closer to a window peering out onto the foggy and barely illuminated field.

Oh shit

“Oh, sorry!” You clear your throat and begin again, your own sudden volume startling yourself for a moment, as you double your pace to catch up and walk beside him towards a table,

“Um, yeah. Sorry, it’s a little early, brain hasn’t woke all the way up.”

Silence.

At the lack of a response, you decide to awkwardly laugh rather than wallow at the fact he didn’t even give a pity chuckle at your bad attempt at a polite joke to ease the seemingly tense vibe between the two of you.

Okay, well he definitely seems to talk the way he texts.

Clearing your throat again, you tried once more.

“I’m (y/n) by the way, it’s nice to m-“

“I know your name.” He stopped at the table and turned to glance down at you over his shoulder, the tiniest of smirks resting on his face with raised eyebrows, before pulling out a seat to sit in.

Yeah, maybe being quiet for a bit would do you some good. You’ll try again later.

Still trying to shake the embarrassment, no humiliation at this point, you busied yourself with taking out all the proper materials and waiting while he did the same. Sitting patiently opposite of Tsukishima, you decided to finally get a good look at him. Take in what you see and make some judgements.

He shook off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, showing you his wide shoulders underneath the simple grey t-shirt he wore. You didn’t fail to notice how the sleeves were cuffed, either.

Hm. Nice look.

Points for Tsukishima.

His hands and ears were slightly pink from the weather outside, contrastingly sweet against the paleness of his skin.

Kinda cute, in like a Keebler elf kind of way.

More points, you guess, for Tsukishima.

He sighed as he opened up the calculus ll textbook, adjusting his glasses with long and slender fingers before flipping through the pages. You decided it’d be best to do the same.

It was quiet for a moment too long when you thought it might be a good idea to try and speak again, but apparently he must’ve had the same idea.

“So, why d-“

“Thanks for-“

Cutting each other off, you pursed your lips as he gave you some emotionless stare, one of you waiting for the other to start back up again.

Andddd, another awkward beat of silence.

Jesus, this was gonna be the longest hour of your life.

—————————

AHHHHH HERES CHAPTER ONE - I promise the next one will be full of tsuki and tsuki content ok, I just had to get the ball rolling and really wanted to post smth!! I hope you guys like and please please leave your thoughts or anything in my ask box or anywhere!! I’d love to talk :D MWAH I also have little footnotes in my tags too :) (more like commentary but yeah)

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know! And if ur crossed off tagging didn’t work!)

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt.4

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, reader being followed at night, not much, Chan’s sexy ass arms?

A/N: the big day!! also there’s a little scene for binnie’s birthday (even though it was yesterday)

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

Your mind was running circles around you, everything a blur.

Talking on the phone with Chan lifted your mood exponentially, but there was still something that ticked in the back of your head. With the way your conversation with Chan ended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve been jumping for joy or hiding away under your covers in hopes that no one would ever find you again.

“So, I was wondering,” His voice drawled over the phone.

You held back the urge to shiver in order to hear exactly what he had to say. Granted the wind had stopped, but the night air was slipping through the thin fabric of your clothes and making up for its absence.

“Yeah?”

You heard Chan chuckle—surprisingly enough it sounded nervous.

“Would you ever date a guy like me?”

And just with one question, you almost fell forward off of the swing.

“What are you saying?” You uttered, eyes staring out at the bright red slide in front of you that had been dulled by the darkness.

Chan cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date with me, Y/n?”

You had said yes too quickly, not just in the sense that it was embarrassing, but also because after you hung up, it really occurred to you that you would be going on a date with Bang Chan.

A date.

Had you even been on a date before?

You wrapped your arms around your body as you contemplated the whole situation. It was dark outside despite the street lights, and even then, they were too dim to really be doing their job. But you hardly noticed, too immersed in your own head to worry about the dark or the possibility of meat-heads roaming around looking for their next meal.

Your skin prickled, your subconscious attempting to warn you about the shadow that lurked only a few feet away.

The date. It should be easy; smile, talk to him without vomiting, and be sure not to make a complete fool of yourself in front of the single most attractive man you had ever seen. Piece of cake.

You mentally cursed Minho for possibly scaring you for the rest of your young life. Could you hold it over him if his years of desensitizing you turned you into a lonely cat-lady?

No—he’d already taken that title, and you weren’t sure if the universe was ready to support two financial tragedies within the same family.

The sound of footsteps fell to deaf ears, the lights of the dorms were able to be seen from your place on the street, and there wasn’t a shred of dread in your naive body. Not even when the sound of sneakers padding against tar got closer—too close for comfort had you been paying any attention. Maybe you were too tired, or your head was too preoccupied to focus on the approaching body behind you.

Not until there was a hand wrapping around your mouth and another pinning your arms to your sides. In your shock, you could feel the flex of your aggressor’s biceps—he was strong, and it had your heart stopping in your chest.

You wiggled the best you could in his grip, but the man’s hold was too constricting, and you suddenly wanted to cry. How stupid could you have been to let something like this happen?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you plead against the calloused hand, your legs shaking like jelly. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear—mint, the one thing you could focus on was that his breath didn’t reek of alcohol like you would’ve assumed.

“Wow…” He released a breath with a small chuckle, and your brows furrowed.

The voice was familiar—

“You really are stupid. Do you realize that you would’ve been so dead if I wanted to like—take advantage of you and dump your body in a river, or something?”

You squirmed out of the stupid stupid strong arms of your stupid stupid ex-friend, you eyes set in a harsh glare as you brought your fists down on his firm chest.

“You fucking pig!” You screeched with rage, fists clenched even when he grabbed your wrists in between fits of laughter. You actually wanted to stab a knife into his eye. “I can’t believe you did that! I thought I was going to die, asshole!”

Changbin snickered with a mocking coo, “I know. Poor baby...”

“You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Just think—” he released your hands, only to block the oncoming smack that you sent. “You won’t make this mistake again, stupid-head.”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around your body again and continuing forward, your pulse more intense than it had been before. “What if I had gone into cardiac arrest or something? You would’ve been fucked in more ways than one. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”

“Y/n,” Changbin chuckled under his breath, meeting your stride easily. “I didn’t rape you, in case you didn’t notice.”

“But if I died, that’s what it would’ve looked like! And suddenly you’re in concrete hell.”

Changbin shook his head. “God—just be more careful next time you decide to walk alone in the middle of the night. Call one of us or something.”

Guilt nawed at your skin, and you sent him a sulky pout. He was right. If something really had happened, you would’ve been fucked. Unless the guy was thinner than a twig and had a shit center of gravity, your chances of getting out of that kind of danger was unlikely. Damn Changbin and his infuriatingly true points.

You let out a groan as the boy beside you casually slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Fine. You’re right. Happy?”

Changbin’s head turned to you and he released another coo, his forehead pressing against yours and successfully annoying the shit out of you. How everyone else dealt with him was a true mystery.

He was supposed to be older than you?

The pitch of his voice raised, “Of course I am.”

You wrenched out of his grip, swatting away his reaching hand and stepping out of his range.

Perhaps there would be a murder tonight.

“Stop being a creep and act like a normal person for once, Bin.”

Without even looking back, you could feel the pout on his lips. But he only let out a quick whine before following after you, his hands stuffed into his jeans.

You had hardly noticed before, but he was dressed strangely—he was in a torn to shit grey t-shirt, multiple splotches of something black plastered across his torso just above the ragged seam of where the shirt ended, holes scattered everywhere exposing glimpses of his firm chest. The jeans weren’t any better, almost completely colored black by the same substance on his shirt, baring rips at the knees and not the ones you get solely for fashion.

“By the way…” You drawled, twisting around to rake your eyes over him one last time. “What were you even doing before this?”

Changbin glanced at his attire and shrugged, the smallest glow of red covering his ears. “I’ve been working on cars for some extra money.”

Your eyebrow raised. “At night?”

“It’s the only time I have free between producing new songs and school.”

Nodding you faced back towards the dark street in front of you.

Changbin had never sparked you as a manual labor kind of guy, let alone someone who could fix cars and get paid for doing it. But after taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. He fit the scene, so to say, and it somehow added to the edgy look he already had going on for him.

You didn’t know as much about your friends as you probably should’ve.

“So you guys actually got the recording room done? Are you and Chan using it now?” You asked nonchalantly, a terrible attempt to slide Chan into the conversation. Changbin must’ve known a few things about Chan that could help you quench your nerves for the upcoming date.

Changbin sent you a sideways look, letting you know that you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.

“Ah, Chan…” He hummed, the two of you finally getting close enough to the university to discern the different buildings. “What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly, a hint of a frown on his brow.

“Well—I mean, I like him a lot.” You fumbled for the right words, though you knew that Changbin wasn’t one to rush you. As annoying as he could be, he was a good listener. “And he just asked me out—”

“He did?”

Well, you thought he was a good listeners

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Earlier he asked if I wanted to go out on a date or something—”

“Or something?”

You shoved him to the side, though his heavy body barely moved an inch.

“Would you stop interrupting me? I’m serious.” You huffed, frustrated.

“I am too.”

You froze—huh?

Your eyes searched his for a moment, his words not as comforting as you wanted them to be, instead his questioning only made your stomach twist in more knots than they had been in before. You really didn’t know anything about Chan, and talking to someone who did only made you hesitant about continuing with this first date of yours.

Sure, you weren’t one to believe rumors about people you barely knew—but it was the fact that you barely knew Chan that made you so nervous.

“Well I’m a little surprised that Chan asked you out.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Uh…” Changbin paused, searching for his next words carefully with a contemplative hum. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, Chan’s one of the best people I know.”

“But…?”

He stopped to wait for you to run your student ID along the sensor, listening to the automatic click of the door and using it as a stall for time. He was trying to find the right way to word what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to blindside you, nor did he want to sabotage his friend by telling you something that might steer you away.

He waited for you to take a step inside the dorms before continuing with a hushed voice.

“Chan is… very selfless let’s say. He doesn’t really take the time to date per se. He’s work oriented. Not to say he hasn’t had girlfriends before, but they never really—”

“Became anything?”

That was what you had been contemplating. If the date went wrong, could you talk to Chan afterwards? Would he still be that person you could call if you wanted to step away from the world? You couldn’t find yourself feeling upset if that happened to be the outcome.

But with the small look of suspicion that Changbin sent, his brow curling upwards, you quickly backpedaled.

“He mentioned something about it while we were on the phone.” You rushed to save yourself.

Taking your answer without question, he stopped. You were both standing outside of your room, the quiet hallway encasing the both of you and chilling you to the bone more than the night air had. Changbin bit his tongue.

“Chan is an amazing friend. But I’ve never really seen him as a boyfriend before.” He sighed, scratching his cheek. “And as much of a little shit you are… I care about you enough to want you to be happy.”

“Is this you warning me?”

“No.” His mouth formed a thin line, he really had no idea how to word anything. It was beginning to frustrate him. “Just be aware that he isn’t the most observant guy when it comes to himself, so be patient with the guy.”

Okay, that helped you none whatsoever.

You sighed, pushing your dorm door open and nodding finally for Changbin.

“Well, thank you, Bin. For walking me and all that…”

Your gratitude was pitiful, but Changbin smiled wide nonetheless, glad that he could help you out despite his advice being absolutely terrible.

“Anytime, Y/n.” He ruffled your hair before you could stop him. “But next time, call me before you decide to be stupid and walk alone agian, okay?”

You smiled.

“Yeah. I promise, Bin. Thanks—seriously.”

As you closed the door, you missed the way Changbin’s lip quirked, his ears once again shining a red in the dim lighting of the hallway. He chuckled, shaking his head.

He wished both Chan and Jisung luck—you really were a handful.

“So this is a date?”

You had absolutely no idea what to say, your nervous gaze on the road in front of you as Chan glanced over at you from his place behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru Crosstrek—he had gone on a cute spiel about how he managed to scrounge up enough money from producing his tracks to afford the down payment on the car. It was cute only because he giggled every time he mentioned some miniscule detail that wasn’t necessary for the development of the story.

He always apologized when he got off track, but those were your favorite parts.

And you still had no idea what to say.

“Yeah, Y/n. A date. Have you ever been on one of those before?” He joked, taking another turn into yet another neighborhood.

He had to have gone down at least four streets already—

“Does a slow dance at a mediocre prom count?”

“A what?”

You snorted, feeling the telltale heat of your cheeks reddening. You were such a loser, the best you could do was tell him about your failed relationships?

“I mean, Jung Wooyoung was pretty hot, so I guess it could count. Granted, Minho stepped in before he could kiss me at the end of the song.”

“You’re kidding.” He looked close to ripping his cheeks with how wide his smile was stretching.

His eyes flickered to you and a shiver ran down your spine at the way he took one hand off the wheel and leaned against the center console. You were either terrified of him crashing or really turned on by the way his biceps bulged at the movement.

You cleared your throat, “Minho was always really adamant about keeping me away from all the funny business.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not. My brother sucks.”

Chan burst out laughing. “That’s why he pulled that, ‘what are your intentions with my baby sister’ act?”

“He didn’t.”

“He did. But he backed off so quickly, I was convinced that it was a joke.”

You nearly choked, your eyes widening as you suddenly threw yourself around to look at him, unable to feel surprised at the way he was already looking at you with a charming smile.

“He did what?”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugged, shifting back to look at the road. “I asked him why it mattered and he just kind of backed off.”

That was right—Minho was scared of Chan.

You would never forget that fun fact for as long as you lived, and it was all thanks to Bang Chan. It really had you rethinking the whole reason why you were nervous in the first place. Chan was the only person in your life that had managed to get rid of stress rather than add to it, and you were obviously worried over nothing. Chan was amazing.

And you were crazy.

You laughed, catching Chan’s attention, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips without you noticing. How you had managed to have him whipped within a matter of days was a complete mystery to him. But there he was, staring at your lips and risking his damn life while doing so. Chan was hopeful, he wanted things to go well this time, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure of that.

“Where are you taking me, you maniac?” You giggled in exasperation as he took yet another turn into a neighborhood, house stacked upon house.

Sure, it was nice to drive around with him, but you were beginning to get antsy. Even more so as Chan continued to look over at you and smirk, his smile as infuriating as it was attractive.

“We’re almost there, hold on.”

“That doesn’t tell me where—”

Turning down a dead-end, Chan lifted his hand to your mouth with an emphasized “shhh”.

Maybe he was a maniac and he was planning on killing you as soon as you reached the end of the street. You definitely wouldn’t be able to find your way back to the main road if he tried, so it was definitely a possibility.

“Don’t worry about it.” He hushed.

With a small scoff, you puckered your lips in a pout and they briefly brushed against the palm of his hand. With the action, your eyes widened as his head snapped your direction. Immediately, your lips pulled into a tight line, your stomach tying up in knots as he dropped his hand and let it fall to your thigh, causing your whole body to go ridged. What was wrong with you?

Chan chuckled, patting your thigh in an attempt to dissolve your tenseness, but it only proved to make your clothes feel much tighter than they had been before. You were physically going to melt into the seat with how hot you were getting, and you sure as hell hoped you weren’t sweating as much as you thought you were.

But the feeling of his hand wasn’t unpleasant—it was warm, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, which was surprising considering how your skin was close to melting off the bone. It simply rested there, occasionally he drummed a nonexistent beat against it with his first two fingers, though you suspected that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that.

Without you realizing, he pulled the car into park, his eyes amused as he watched you stare at his hand for a little longer.

Something else—you definitely were.

“We’re here.” Chan said, lifting his hand away from your thigh to pull the key from the ignition.

You weren’t upset that he had moved his hand, but you couldn’t deny that disappointment had started to bubble up.

Looking out your window, you noticed that you were, in fact, at the end of the dead-end road. But instead of a dense thicket of trees or a mountain of concrete blocking it off, there sat a decrepit and grey building. The maroon of the bricks had been worn and chipped, and the large barn looking doors were rusted and close to falling off their hinges. You can tell that it had once been beautiful with the large stone bird watching over on a centered pedestal.

Chan opened his door to get out and you followed, despite how strange it might’ve been that he took you to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this?” You asked, almost shell shocked at the sheer size of the building as you both stepped closer.

“It’s an old fire station.”

Old didn’t do the place justice—every new fire station you had seen was pristine and white, large open door garages lining the first floor. The one in front of you was nothing like the ones in town.

“I used to live in this neighborhood before I moved to Sydney. I was very young and don’t really remember much about it, but I do remember this place.” He smiled, looking up at the two storied building. “When I came back I never expected it to be still standing after fifteen years. I thought the two would’ve torn it down and built a convenience store there or something, but nope, it’s still here.”

It was nice to see his face light up while talking about something he cared about. It was endearing.

He then grabbed your hand with a small wink and dragged you forward, though you didn’t put up much of a fight at all. Every part of you screamed about how nice his hand felt around yours, how his palms weren’t too calloused to be rough but enough to want them all over the rest of your body. His pale skin pretty with the contrast of his raised veins. Veiny hands were nice… You really were just reverting back to your horny high school self, weren’t you?

You cleared your throat.

“But why did you bring me here?” You questioned, looking warily at the back of his head.

You weren’t scared, but you were almost certain that a building that was decades old wasn’t a normal date site.

“Why not?” Chan shrugged, hoping to god that you couldn’t see just how terrified he was.

“Maybe because I was expecting to go watch a movie or go to a restaurant?”

He glanced back with a raised brow. “Do you want to do those things?”

“I’d rather chew off my foot,” you admitted, catching him off guard for a moment. “But I’m trying to make you feel like the weird one here.”

Weird one indeed. He had spent the entire night before without sleep, not coming up with a new track, but thinking of where exactly to bring you. He contemplated how to explain to you the reason why he was so exhausted and jittery was because he didn’t want you to leave the date thinking that he was some average guy. Chan didn’t want you to think he was boring. So he could be weird if it meant you wanted to see him again.

You shared a smile, both of your nerves fading away with each passing second. Of course, Chan had nothing to worry about.

He proceeded to pull you through the old rickety door of the station, completely ignoring the way the visible slivers of his chest flexed when he tugged the door open with one good yank. Now that you were actually thinking about it, his outfit was one of the best you’d seen him in; a simple black muscle tee topped with a heavy denim jacket, and his jeans whitewashed and ripped.

It was simple but effective considering you couldn’t keep your eyes off the strips of flesh that peaked behind his jacket. If only the autumn breeze had taken a day off.

The further the two of you got into the building, the more excited Chan looked. His eyes lit up and there was suddenly a bounce in his step. Not to mention the way his grip on your hand tightened to the point where he was nearly cutting off the circulation. But it was nice nonetheless. You didn’t have the heart to be upset with him.

Your eyes flew around to all the different old contraptions that must’ve been shiny in their prime. With torn hoses all over the place, and precariously placed pipes, you had no idea whether to be amazed that they hadn’t succumbed to the elements or terrified that if you took one wrong step you would fall and get impaled.

Looking over at Chan, you giggled as he began to unravel a wound up hose, momentarily releasing your hand to act like a complete child.

“So what was your plan when we got here? Get me in a secluded place so you could tie me up and kill me?” You teased, offering him a smile.

Chan wanted to do two of those three things—that was for sure.

“What? You don’t want to explore this magnificent building with me?” He asked despite himself.

“So you didn’t plan some elaborate picnic with candles and fancy homemade French food?”

Chan paused for a moment, lips fighting a smile. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. The hours of preparation was for naught, and Chan could care less.

He hummed, “Well if you mean a blanket on the floor and take-out, then yeah. No candles though. I have a bad feeling that if we were to light any fire within ten miles of this place it would turn to dust. Which would be pretty ironic considering it is a fire station—”

“Are you rambling?”

Chan froze, mouth open to deny your question, but found that it wasn’t completely false and shut it.

“...it’s probably cold too.” He added lastly.

You smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”

You then proceeded to struggle your way up a flight of unstable spiral stairs with Chan close behind—so close that his arms were almost completely around you. He assured you that it was only so he wouldn’t be at fault if you fell. But it felt nice whenever his chest brushed lightly against your back, so you let his lame excuse slide.

The food was, in fact, cold. But it was still good since you really couldn’t go wrong with traditional Korean food.

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with many cracked jokes about your brother and his friends, only strategically avoiding Jisung all together.

Chan went on about his story, how he had two younger siblings back in Australia and a set of loving parents that believed in each and every one of his dreams as he grew up, and supported his pursuit of becoming a producer. You bit your tongue, keeping your questions of “do you miss them?” and “do you still see them?” to yourself. Still, Chan seemed happy enough, you thought. Considering you would be miserable if you had to spend your time with someone who complained and sulked the whole time. You were glad he could talk about his family without falling into a pit of missing them.

That date was pretty perfect, despite its oddities.

Who knew someone could be a by-the-book romantic and an original dork at the same time?

Your own thoughts had you chuckling into your water, almost making you cough, but thankfully Chan hadn’t noticed, his attention too zeroed in on all the food in front of him.

“Oh shit—I forgot all about that thing!” He suddenly exclaimed, his eyes locked on a rusty fireman’s pole that ran up into a hole in the floor. Chan hadn’t even finished his (second) bowl of food when he jumped up and ran up to the death trap. The thing didn’t even have any padding at the bottom to protect someone from breaking their legs, and he was excited about that?

Suddenly, you let out a laugh—it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a swarm of giggles leaving your covered lips and forcing a pink tinge over your cheeks. Chan could only stare at you in awe, trying to think of everything else that could beat your laugh in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but he came up blank.

“Come down the pole with me.”

His words had you freezing mid-laugh, eyes wide.

“What? No way am I doing that. What if I get pole burn?”

“Here,” Chan threw his jacket over your shoulders, surprising you with the flood of warmth cascading around you. “Now you can’t get pole burn.”

You pushed your arms through the arms of the jacket, silently relishing in the warm weight.

“Ah, look at you Romeo. I see that you’re trying to make up for all the years I missed going on dates. How romantic.”

“I try.”

With a wink, he was grabbing onto the pole all of a sudden and wrapping his legs around it. You barely had time to stare at the image of his thick biceps curling around the pole before he was descending down it with a laugh of his own. You leaned forward to watch him hit the floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He smiled up at you, the sight blinding.

“Your turn!”

“Did I ever mention that I’m kind of allergic to bad ideas?”

Chan snickered, leaning his hands on the pole and shaking it to show you just how “sturdy” the thing was. The wiggle and creak didn’t set you at ease, that was for sure.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You just watched me do it!” Was his genius response.

The night was beginning to just become you counting how many times Chan said or did something that made you think he was a child.

“Okay, I just don’t understand why you want me to go down this damn pole! Is it some right of passage or something? Do you only go out with the girls who have the balls to do something this stupid?”

“Slide down here and find out.”

He got you there. You really did want to find out.

So you bit the inside of your cheek and wrapped your shaky hands around the rust crusted pole. How Chan managed to do so so easily without sleeves was baffling and a little sexy for whatever stupid reason. You had a thick layer of denim protecting you, and you still felt like you were going to be filleted open.

“Don’t think about it,” he encouraged with a soft voice. “Just jump. I’ve got you.”

And at the words of a poet, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, taking a step off the wooden floor and letting gravity pull you down. You could hear the rust tug and catch on the fabric of Chan’s jacket, but only for a second, because it only lasted a second before you felt hands grab your sides and pillow your impact. A surge of adrenaline had you breathing heavy as Chan cheered lightly in your ear.

“There. You did it.” He poked your forehead with a chuckle, getting you to open your blown eyes. “You have successfully completed the initiation.”

Your heart felt heavy and beat hard against your ribs as he straightened you out, hands finding purchase in his jacket. Subtly he was admiring how you looked in his clothes, but he would never admit that sappy fact to anyone.

You smiled; admittedly shakily. “Ah, yes. Validation. My favorite.”

Chan admired how you could keep releasing quips despite your fear. You weren’t one to be deterred, that was for sure.

“You have an unlimited supply of sarcasm in you, huh?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t run out yet.”

He smiled and you smiled, it was a good moment—the best of the day. A moment where you were glad you listened to him and literally took the leap. Ready to take another one, your eyes dropped to his lips and his dropped to yours.

And he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You weren’t completely caught off guard, but you definitely were. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied with fiddling with your fingers found your face, palm cupping your jaw and urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better. It was gentle, as you had expected from Chan, and you were thankful for that.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The way he intertwined your fingers was more intimate than the kiss itself and you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting light-headed. You lost yourself to the way your shared breaths echoed around the large room every time your lips separated only to reconnect again immediately.

Your first kiss—well, your first real kiss. Surely that one you had shared with Kang Chanhee back in your first year of high school didn’t count. You had only gotten away with it since Minho was home sick that day, anyway.

It was much warmer than your last kiss, that was for sure. His jacket kept you shielded from the cold air and his body secreted a natural heat that had you pressing closer, which in turn sent him a signal to push forward as well.

Suddenly, his teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh of your lip, pulling a taut gasp from your throat.

The noise had Chan withholding a groan, pushing him to break the passionate exchange, his hazy eyes meeting your wide ones.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice small and unsure.

He could see the way your lips shined with not only your spit but his own. In some sick and twisted way, he was pleased to see the redness that the kiss brought to your puckered lips. It was satisfying. It was a sort of claim, and he was proud to hold it.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned.

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand wrapped around yours was used to yank you forward, Chan’s mouth finding yours once again in a quick peck, leaving you just about a hundred degrees warmer than you originally felt.

[clouditae]

Always Find You

Taehyung x reader | pg15 | oneshot | soulmate au | strangers to lovers | friends to lovers | angst | fluff | mentions of death | cigarette smoking | swearing

Amazing banner maker @ressjeon​ thank you so much love ♡

Word: 3.9k

Again and again Taehyung has seen you appear before him, and again and again you’re never within his grasp. No matter where you go, what life you live, he’ll always find you. 

To @crazy4myself I’m your secret admirer :) I truly hope you like this fic. I know I told you that I had something planned based off everything you told me, but I couldn’t help but write this, and the time crunching is totally my fault because I do not know what planning is lol. But I hope you like it and I really enjoyed our conversations even though school was just kicking my ass lol. Happy Valentine’s Day! ♡

When Taehyung first saw you, he forgot how to breathe.

You stand on the balcony looking out onto the hundreds of knights pledging their lives to your family. He is one of those knights. 

Your hair is up in a perfect bun, the crown shining brightly at the top of your head, but your smile—God when you smile it’s like his whole world is brighter than it’s ever been. Your father—the king, is speaking to the crowd below him. He’s loud, encouraging, speaking with so much motivation that he knows His Royal Highness is so well versed in this that there’s no emotion in them anymore. 

They’re all sent off to a worthless war and nearly less than half comeback to tell the tale. It’s just an endless cycle until all kingdoms stop fighting for land. It’s a cycle Taehyung happened to be born into. A simple commoner who was chosen to fight for his king. 

His eyes avert back to you, watching you as you remain stoic and beautiful. He wonders if he were born into a higher class, would you notice him? Would those mysterious eyes meet his one day? Would you smile his way? Would he be your first pick over the huge line of suitors wanting to take your hand even though he has nothing?

“The kingdom and its people are forever grateful for your heroic actions to protect us!” the king bellows, his hand outstretched towards his knights as if he’s blessing them all before their deaths. 

The men yell in response as they march forward, through the gate and towards the enemy line. As he follows, Taehyung manages to get one last glance towards you, your radiant smile sending a chill down his spine. It’s all the encouragement he needs to march forward and fight this damn fight. 

Taehyung never made it back home that day. 

When Taehyung was a kid, his dad told him the stories of soulmates. A story that when two soulmates meet, their fate is sealed with a kiss. A kiss that binds them together forever. Taehyung always thought that story was ridiculous. A kiss sealing the two? 

He thought it was even more ridiculous when his dad added, “When two soulmates do not seal their destiny with a kiss, their life is repeated. When they die, they are reincarnated and are set to find their soulmates once again. This cycle is repeated over and over again until they’re together.” 

He would laugh at the story his father always told him until one day he saw you. 

You’re wearing a black and white polka dot dress, your small heels clicking against the concrete floor as you run, a book clutched to your chest. You look excited, your eyes shining more brightly than they did when you looked out across the sea of knights ready for war. Taehyung never believed in soulmates until that day. Until that day where he saw you for the second time in his life, a memory he always thought was a dream became his past life.

He wonders where you’re heading. To school maybe? The building is in that general direction. What are you like in class? With that excited look on your face, he’s guessing you’re the first one to raise your hand when the teacher asks a question. The kind of student who writes almost everything down so that you can go over it after class when you’re home. You might be the kind of person who prefers to study and learn new things rather than play with the other kids. 

He wishes he can go to school. To see what you’re like personally. Yet he can’t. Taehyung learns what he can from his mom when he’s not working. It seems like in this lifetime, Taehyung has to make ends meet. 

Taehyung wants to meet you. He wants to meet the person who may be his soulmate—who he wants to be his soulmate. He’s seen you before, and here you are again… this is fate right?

“Taehyung! Get back to work,” his boss yells, lifting a rock almost twice Taehyung’s size up and onto the wooden barrel.

“Yes Sir,” he calls back, grabbing a rock heavier than his own weight to place into the barrel that is one rock away from breaking. 

Would he want to kiss you in this lifetime? In this lifetime where your life is so much better than his? Where you can find a better suitor than him that will take care of you because he’s better than Taehyung? What if you already found someone? Is it too late for him to meet you? 

What if you’re not his soulmate, but someone who is sent to make him believe you are? What if in every life he lives, you’re there to torment him? 

Soulmates are stupid. They don’t exist—

“Taehyung watch out!” 

Soulmates are stupid… right?

When he sees you again, Taehyung learns your name. Y/N. 

He’s never heard such a beautiful name in his entire life. Your name makes his heart race, and your voice…

He finally gets to meet you—see you closer than he has before. See the details in your eyes, the way they gleam when you talk about something you love. The way a blush tint crosses your face when you realize you’ve been talking for too long. 

You’re perfect. 

Everything about you is perfect to him. He wants to be with you already. He’s seen you in so many of his past lives, learning a thing here and there, but now you’re here. Sitting across from him in your yellow dress, your hands clutching onto it as you watch the bottle spin round and round. 

Will it land on him? Will today be the day your fates are sealed? 

The bottle slows, his heart practically in his throat as the bottle finally comes to a stop. Butterflies erupt in his stomach as he glances up at you from the bottle that is pointing at him. He can see that cute blush tint on your cheeks as you meet his eyes. 

He’ll make you happy. He’ll give you everything you want if it means he can see that smile everyday for the rest of his life. He’ll work ten times harder to give you the life you deserve—nothing will stand in his way. 

The crowd cheers as the two of you lean towards one another, but their cheers are soon tuned out by the rapid beating of his heart. He can feel your warm breath hitting his lips, your nose brushing against his own. 

“The cops are coming!” 

He no longer feels your breath against his skin. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, head hanging low in defeat. 

Why is fate toying with him?

Jumping to his feet, Taehyung runs with the crowd of frightened and excited teens up the stairs towards the kitchen and out the kitchen door that leads to the backyard. No cops have entered the backyard yet, so he can just hop a few fences and be in the clear. 

“Damn shame you didn’t get that kiss,” Zane says, placing a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder in sympathy. “That would have been one helluva kiss.” 

Taehyung sighs, “No kidding.” 

“We better leave before the cops show up,” Zane says, running ahead and over the fence with ease. 

Of course he makes it look easy. He’s the school’s star athlete, but Taehyung on the other hand…

Getting a running start, Taehyung grabs onto the fence, jumping as high as he can, throwing one leg over the fence. His other leg, on the other hand, hits the fence, causing him to lose his grip and sends him to the ground, landing on his back. Taehyung lets out a low groan, lying still as he regains his ability to breathe. 

Zane leans over him, a smug grin plastered on his damn face. “For someone who fights a lot, you sure don’t know how to land on your feet.” 

“Shut the hell up,” Taehyung mutters, taking Zane’s extended hand as he gets up. The sound of sirens are loud and clear, yelling is faint but there. 

“Put that stamina to good use, Tae,” Zane says before taking off. 

Taehyung got away like usual. With how often he’s had run ins with the police, he might as well be an expert in getaways. That’s no life he should be living if this is the life he completes with you. He needs to do better—be better for you.

Tossing the extinguished cigarette along with the pile, Taehyung walks past the library building with a direction in mind. If you’re not in the library like he originally thought, that means you’re somewhere on campus chatting with your friends or alone, letting the warm rays of sun keep you warm on this breezy day. 

Rounding the corner, Taehyung stops dead in his tracks, his heart dropping to his stomach. Zane breaks the kiss, a familiar blush tint gracing its presence across your face as you look down in embarrassment. Zane grins as he caresses your cheek—the cheek that only Taehyung is meant to touch. 

Once again, you’re taken away from him. 

“So it’s a date then?” Zane asks, his tone full of pride it makes Taehyung sick. What pride does he get out of this for taking someone else’s soulmate away from them?

“It’s a date,” you mutter, the smallest smile showing on your lips. 

Taehyung doesn’t stick around to see your lips meet Zane’s again. He doesn’t stick around for the next class to start. 

He’s tired. 

He’s tired of being born over and over again. He’s tired of seeing you within his grasp only to be taken away from him. He’s tired of going through family after family—each family slowly being forgotten—so many memories blurring together that he doesn’t know which parent belongs to which life.

But he knows one thing. His dad is a liar. Whichever one told him of soulmates is a liar. They’re not real. Having a soulmate is bull shit. There’s no binding, no happily ever after. Everything is a lie. The only thing Taehyung is living a life where he sees the one person he believes to be his soulmate taunt him with the idea of being together. 

“Damnit,” he cries, furiously wiping away the tears that never seem to stop falling. 

He wants to be happy, why is that so hard to ask for?

Taehyung feels the warm rays of the sun warm his face, the sounds of people chatting, and a few birds chirping as he slowly begins to wake up. He wonders how long he’s been sleeping. A few minutes? Hours? Either way, after a whole day of cram studying, that rest was definitely needed. 

He opens his eyes to a slit, shutting them close from the bright sun. He sits up, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his eyes of sleep. “Morning, sunshine,” a voice next to him says as he turns to look at the figure. 

You don’t bother looking at him as your eyes travel from your textbook to your notes. “How long was I out?” he asks you in a gravelly tone. 

“Not sure. I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes, so more than that,” you answer, flipping to the next page to continue your notes. Taehyung rests his chin on his hand, watching you work diligently. 

He wonders how much longer fate will toy with him. Life after life he’s watching you slip through his fingers. He’s tried different approaches to getting you, and each attempt was a joke. Heartache after heartache. 

This time… he could just laugh at how fucked up fate is. 

In this life, Taehyung grew up to be your best friend since the two of you were infants. Your mom has been friends with his mom since they were in college. The two of you are inseparable. Wherever you go, he’s right behind you. Taehyung has been with you through it all. From when you lost your favorite toy, to your first ever heartache. Everything you’ve been through, and you’re still a fighter. 

He admires you and in love with you. There’s the smallest chance that this life will be his last. Maybe he’ll finally be your soulmate like he’s meant to be. He wants to—oh how he wants to be. 

“What are you staring at?” you ask, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

He blinks a few times, watching you stare at him with curious eyes. “Do you believe in soulmates?” he finally questions. 

You frown in confusion. “Soulmates? Where’d that come from?”

He shrugs, dropping his hand from his chin and leans back in his seat. “Just curious.” 

You don’t remember him. In all your lives you two have had, never once did you recognize him. He wonders, if you remembered, would you kiss him? Would things change if you remembered? 

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking about his question, eyes drifting off somewhere he believes is your own world. You tap your pencil against your notebook, the small beat matching his heart. “I do,” you begin, setting your pencil down, “I believe you can have multiple soulmates in your life. Sometimes you can look at a stranger and just know they’re going to be very important to you in the near future, and I love moments like that.” You look to him again. “I think you’re my twin flame,” you add, that adorable blush gracing your cheeks. 

“Twin flame?” he questions. What’s a twin flame? Why are you blushing? Is it embarrassing? What the hell is a twin flame? 

“Well would you look at the time,” you start, suddenly changing the subject, “I’m gonna be late for class if I don’t leave now.” He watches you rise from your seat, collecting your belongings as you rush to leave. 

“You can’t just leave without telling me what a twin flame is, Y/N,” he tells you, trying to grab something of yours so that you don’t leave, but you’re quicker than he is. “Why were you blushing? Is it something embarrassing? What does it mean,” he complains, watching you leave him alone at the table. “Y/N!” he calls, groaning when you don’t turn around. 

He never got you to explain what a twin flame is, and it slips his mind to just look it up. It’s not that hard for him to get easily distracted by you. Especially when he’s head over heels in love with you. 

You leap onto his back with little time for him to catch you. You wrap your arms around his neck as you nestle your head on his shoulder. “Thanks for walking me home, Tae,” you tell him. 

“I think you mean ride,” he corrects, hoisting you higher so that he has a better hold of you. 

You giggle in response before going silent. Nothing is said between the two of you as Taehyung walks the two of you towards your house. He feels you grip him a little tighter before breaking the silence, “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Taehyung almost stops in his tracks, but he manages to keep going, never showing a small change in his pace. If you knew the lives he’s lived, the different ways he’s met you…

“I want to,” he answers. 

“What’s keeping you from believing?”

He’s quiet for a moment. How does he tell you it’s because every time he sees you, you don’t see him? How does he tell you that he’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and that every life you two have lived, you were never his?

“What if in our past lives, we were never soulmates? What if we crossed paths, but never met the way we are supposed to?” Taehyung looks left then right before crossing the street. “There’s no real sign in knowing who your soulmate is.” 

You hum in response, but that hum tells him that you think differently and that you’re about to tell him he’s wrong. And he’s right because you say, “I think if you’ve met your soulmate in your past lives, then they are your soulmate. It just wasn’t the time to be with them. Fate is just waiting for that perfect moment before you two find each other again.” 

Taehyung scoffs, “You and I are completely different, Y/N.” 

You giggle as he helps you down from his back, the two of you stand in front of your house. “Everyone has a soulmate, Tae.” You dig in your bag for your keys, looking through each key for your house key. “And as my twin, you’ll always find me, right?” You look up to meet his gaze. 

He frowns in slight confusion, but answers, “I’ll always find you.” 

You smile at him, and the world around him seems to stop. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

A few days have passed since Taehyung last saw you. You told him you’ll be busy with an assignment that’s due this Sunday, so Taehyung agrees to let you have your space. 

It’s Sunday and Taehyung is sitting at the usual meeting spot on campus. He’s surprised there are quite a lot of people on campus when it’s a Sunday and Valentine’s Day to be exact. It’s the day of love, a day Taehyung has experienced way too many times. 

He stares off in the direction you should be coming from, complete boredom etched onto his face as he waits for you. You better get an A if you’re making him wait for you on campus...on a weekend. As he begins to close his eyes, a shadowed figure appears in his peripheral. Taehyung turns in the direction of the figure to see a familiar face. A familiar face with no name coming to mind. 

“Hey, I thought I’d find you here,” she says, twirling her blonde hair with her fingers. 

“Ah, yeah. Just waiting for Y/N,” he replies. What is her name?

She nods. “Then we have time to talk real quick before Y/N gets here.” 

Taehyung gestures to the seat across from him. “What’s up?”

The blonde takes the offer and sits across from Taehyung, looking nervous suddenly. “We’ve known each other for a while, and during that time we’ve known each other, you’ve been a great guy. You’re kind, funny, very good looking”—there’s no way this is going where he thinks it’s going—”and during that time, I’ve grown to have feelings for you.” She fidgets in her seat like some lovesick teenager. “I really like you and I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime,” she rushes, looking down then back up to Taehyung. 

This is a first. In all his lives, no one has ever confessed their feelings towards him.

“Um.” He clears his throat. “I’m flattered, but there’s someone else I’ve been chasing my entire life.” 

“Oh,” she mutters, looking dejected as she looks down. “She’s a lucky girl.” 

Taehyung wants to laugh. If only she knew. 

Another fifteen minutes go by and he grows tired of waiting for you. Grabbing his phone, Taehyung begins his search for you at the building you said you would be at. He searches high and low, but you’re not there. 

Where the hell are you?

Thinking of all the places you can be, Taehyung begins his search all over campus. It takes him almost half an hour of searching when he finally finds you. His anger is on a whole new level when he reaches you. 

Your back is to him, but he finds you sitting on a bench practically at the edge of campus. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve been looking for you for half an hour, Y/N,” Taehyung says, frustration clearly evident in his tone. 

You jump from the sudden break in silence. You don’t turn around to look at him, so he goes to take a seat across from you, but when he sees you, his anger is gone and is replaced with concern and confusion. “Have you been crying?”

“No,” you lie.

“Y/N,” he begins, waiting for your gaze to meet his, “I’ve known you for our entire lives. I know when you’ve been crying. Did you get a bad grade on your assignment?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m surprised you found me,” you confess, trying to change the subject. 

Taehyung isn’t having it. “I told you I’ll always find you. So you failed and that’s why you’re crying?”

You sniffle and scoff, “I wish that was it.” 

Taehyung sighs in slight frustration. “Then what is it?” You’re silent for a while, avoiding his gaze. “Y/N,” he says more firmly. He’s not playing these games today.

You groan in your own frustration. “It’s this stupid guy,” you finally answer. 

Taehyung wants to leave. Of course it is. Of course fate isn’t done playing with him. 

“What? Did he reject you on Valentine’s Day? Should I go kick his ass?” Fuck fate. Fuck soulmates. Fuck all of this!

“If you can kick your own ass then go right ahead,” you reply in an aggrieved tone. 

Taehyung is frozen, your words not registering in his head. “What?”

“Oh my God”—you jump to your feet in pure frustration—”it’s you! You’re the stupid guy!” 

Taehyung rises to his feet as well. “Me? What’d I do?” What the hell are you talking about?

“I sometimes wonder how you can be so oblivious, or maybe I’m not good at showing how I feel.” You run a hand through your hair, that familiar tint of blush growing on your face. “I’m in love with you, Tae—hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. But then I saw Stasia with you, and I heard her asking you out and-and I just couldn’t stand by and watch another person try and win you over when I’ve been standing beside you for years!”

It’s like everything fell of deaf ears after he heard the word “love”. You’re in love with him. You love him. Is this a joke? It can’t be right? Because after what felt like hundreds of lives—life after life of just chasing you, has he finally caught up with you? Is this it?

“—I mean she’s beautiful and funny and talented. I would go out with her, too, if i were you. Anyone would be lucky—” 

In a few quick strides, Taehyung is in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks and bringing your face up to look at him. There’s a look of shock on your face, but he can’t hold back any longer. He brings his lips to yours, and after a few seconds, you kiss him back. 

Taehyung had always wondered if soulmates are real. He always wondered if kissing your soulmate would bind two people together. He always thought it was a tale, but as he kisses you, he feels like the clock within him finally begins to tick. Like his life is finally beginning. His life with you is beginning. No more being reborn. No more chasing. 

He finally caught up to you. 

Tears stream down Taehyung's face as you break the kiss. "What's wrong?" you ask with worry in your tone. 

Taehyung shakes his head, opening his eyes to meet yours. "I've waited so long for you." 

You give him a small smile, wiping away the tears. "I'm sorry it took me so long." He shakes his head again and kisses you. It doesn't matter how long he'd have to wait. 

If it's you, he'll wait a lifetime.

[thegeminisage]

birthday meta for the birthday boy <3

[this version of the meta is behind a cut. if you’d prefer the no-cut version, it’s here.]

a fun little fanon from Ye Olde Days of spn (when seasons 1-5 were airing) was that sam always had the absolute worst birthdays. a big part of this is because sam’s birthday is in may. supernatural tends to align itself with “real time,” meaning that they like to use either the date the episode was filmed or the date it aired as the in-universe date, even when two canon dates conflict each other. (they’re so intent on doing this that they pretended the gap years between s5 & s6 and s7 & s8 right out of existence - season openers also usually tend to pick up right after season finales in-universe but still somehow be set several months later.) that means sam’s birthday tends to line up with the airdates on either season finales or episodes right before the finales, which means that every time sam gets a year old, shit hits the fan. 

here’s a list of things that did happen or could have happened on some of sam's birthdays:

0-22: we don’t have much in the way as far as concrete dates go for preseries stuff, but it’s perfectly possible sam walked out all that bullshit the day he turned 18, even if i prefer to think he left at age 19 as that aligns rather tragically with some adam-related canon.

23: we don’t have any dates for the end of s1/opening of s2 either, but it’s likely that sam’s birthday took place between 1.20 (dead man’s blood) and 2.01 (in my time of dying). he could have been doing anything from hunting vampires to saving one of YED’s special children to almost shooting his possessed father to getting hit by a semi to using a ouija board to talk to his not-quite-dead brother.

24: here’s where the real fun starts >:) sam died in cold oak in 2.21 (all breaks loose pt 1) and in the episode he says he’s 23. but according to the lore (extra-canonical material), dean made the deal to bring him back on his 24th birthday...

25: ...which means that on his 25th birthday, he was forced to watch dean get dragged to hell...

25b: ...except that sam had TWO 25th birthdays, because mystery spot took place in february, and sam lived in an alternate timeline where dean stayed dead for 6 months, putting him well past may 2nd. which meant that the first time he turned 25, he was actually getting tortured by gabriel. while his brother was getting tortured (or torturing someone else) in hell.

26: 4.20 (the rapture) took place in very late april/very early may (the wiki says may 3, but that’s just a guess), and 4.21 (when the levee breaks) picks up immediately where it left off. so it’s not only plausible but EXTREMELY LIKELY that sam was locked up in the panic room suffering withdrawals when he turned 26, dude

26b: ...except that in 11.17 (safe house), bobby and rufus’s half of the episode presumably takes place at the same time during season 4, and he mentions sam and dean are in reno?? so you know they could have been doing that instead.

27: we have no hard and fast dates for the end of season 5, but it’s my personal headcanon that sam’s birthday took place during 5.22 (swan song), and he beat the devil and leapt into hell on the day he turned 27 - because at this point, why not. however, his birthday could also have taken place during either 5.20 (the devil you know) or 5.21 (two minutes to midnight), meaning he was reconfronting his old college pal who turned out to be a demon brady, or helping bobby and a human cas destroy the factory with the croatoan virus.

28: there’s a gap year between s5 and s6, so sam’s 28th birthday took place while he was soulless, hunting with the campbell family...

28b: ...except spn likes to say “a year passed” without adding one to the calendar, so sam ALSO had a 28th birthday during the airing of s6. there’s some conflicting information about s6′s timeline, so this could have happened anywhere from 6.18 (frontierland) to 6.21 (let it bleed). sam could have been doing anything from time traveling to fighting eve to grappling with cas going dark side to rescuing lisa and ben.

29: sam’s 29th birthday almost definitely took place during 7.20 (the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo), during which he met charlie. in case you’ve forgotten, that was actually a great day for him - in a moment of true little brother antics and justifiable homophobia, he got to laugh at dean gay flirting with the security guard.

30: there was another gap year between s7 and s8, which means that sam spent the big three-oh with amelia richardson while dean and cas were in purgatory. he got to have a picnic!

30b: ...but since spn ignores gap years, sam ALSO had a 30th birthday during s8 (a big season for him). there isn’t an exact date for the episodes leading up to the finale, which takes place in late may, after sam’s birthday, so his birthday could have taken place in either 8.21 (the great escapist), where he nearly died of his trial-induced fever and confessed to dean that he always felt unclean, or during 8.22 (clip show), where he met sarah blake again after nearly a decade, only to have her die right in front of him.

31: the s9 timeline is pretty vague, but the best guess for this one is 9.18 (meta fiction), in which sam finally gets to confront gadreel, the angel who possessed him and killed kevin with his hands

32: the s10 timeline is also short on dates, so sam’s birthday could have taken place anywhere between 10.16 (paint it black) and 10.21 (dark dynasty). a few possible things sam could have been doing: dealing with a hunt involving soulless people, helping cas and bobby break metatron out of heaven’s prison, catching up with charlie and giving rowena the book of the damned, battling the cursed werther house (don’t click that unless you’ve seen the episode, the twist is TOO good), reuniting claire with her mom, or building charlie’s pyre.

33: the last quarter or so of s11 happens really quickly sequentially, every episode picking up soon after the last one left off, which means that sam’s birthday either took place at the very end of the season or the beginning of s12. it’s most likely he turned 33 either the day dean saved the sun and sam himself got shot and kidnapped by toni bevell, or a few days later when he was being held captive and tortured in her basement.

34: unfortunately, sam’s 34th birthday almost definitely took place during 12.21 (there’s something about mary). i was really hoping it’d be 12.22 so he could be kicking the bmol’s asses, learning lucifer was back, and hugging mary, but no...instead he was mostly likely learning that ketch had had eileen killed. 

35: because of some weird canon, the timeline for season 13 is actually batshit insane and makes no sense whatsoever, which means sam’s birthday is really early this season - either during 13.17 (the thing) where he rescues his brother from a frisky tentacle monster or 13.18 (bring ‘em back alive) where he hangs out with gabriel and cas in the bunker. since that’s garbage, you’d be forgiven for ignoring canon and pretending sam’s birthday fell on one of the following episodes - 13.19 (funeralia) is very touching, as he and rowena clash and then make up with each other; 13.21 (beat the devil) has sam capturing lucifer, then dying and getting revived and captured by him; 13.22 has sam getting a little revenge by leaving lucifer for dead; 13.23, of course, has lucifer finally dying for good.

36: there’s no dates whatsoever on the back half of s14, so theoretically sam’s birthday could take place in any episode after 14.13 (lebanon). the likeliest and COOLEST candidate is for sam to turn 36 during 14.20, in which he shoots god himself point blank. other admittedly inferior  scenarios include his stint as justin the 50s househusband, mary’s death, or putting jack in the ma’lak box.

37: we saw this birthday happen onscreen during 15.14 (last holiday) at a party thrown by mrs. butters. unfortunately, not too long after that, she wound up torturing him by pulling out his fingernails.

38: that’s this year! because the timeline of s15 is also so weird and vague, partially fucked up by covid changing the shooting/airing times, and because sam’s birthday is SO early in s15, it’s possible that he has another one this season, right at the end, or maybe post-canon, which means............................................

...................................................that he’s spending it with dean and jack and the newly revived eileen and cas, in the bunker or somewhere else he feels safe and loved :)

happy birthday, sam winchester <3 after all the unhappy ones...u deserve it

[spn masterpost]

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Everyday Heroes

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, an explosion, implied injury, depressed reader, minor character death, grief, and a bit of pining

Word Count: 3,364

Author’s Note: This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?

Summary: The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea. 

You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors. 

You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know. 

With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work. 

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion. 

The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen. 

But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came. 

It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.

But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near speechless. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation. 

“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. Gods, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well. 

“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.

After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile. 

Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours. 

“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.” 

“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?

“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly not on your side this morning after all.

“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter loves those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past. 

“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.” 

“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.” 

You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is. 

“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause for. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.

“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…” 

He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?

“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.” 

And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones. 

You didn’t even get his name. 

***

You didn’t see him again for a month. 

Not that you often thought about him or his dreamy eyes and ridiculously charming smile or his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat. 

Okay, maybe you did. 

Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again. 

And maybe you sometimes imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself. 

You felt silly for being that girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore. 

But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone. 

“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a week. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.” 

You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.” 

“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead. 

You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls. 

Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.

Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm. 

When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building immediately. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you go. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible. 

But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest. 

You don’t remember much about the explosion. 

You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors. 

But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing. 

You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with katanas strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a  stupid little crush on was a superhero. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-

“What the fuck?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled. 

His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight. 

“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning. 

You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious. 

“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.” 

The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all. 

***

It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte. 

You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. Were you just as bad as the rest of them? Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…

Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly not what you thought it was, had shaken you. 

You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight. 

“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”

You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off. 

“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.” 

Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall. 

You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while. 

You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.

Marcus Moreno, your own personal Superman. 

You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.

You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?

To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was magnificent. An everyday hero, indeed. 

He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months. 

Hope, you realized. 

“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.” 

As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you. 

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest

Marcus Moreno Taglist: @xjaywritesx​

[theemperorsfeather]

I started this morning by starting to cat-proof the back yard (as in, added chicken wire over a gate, found some board to attach to the bottom of another gate) and ended up pinging around between a number of other to-do item such that when I came in for lunch it took me several seconds to remember wtf I had gone outside for in the first place.

It rained pretty good last night so I got to see the gutter in (in)action. No water runs out the end where it should, and it drips in places it shouldn't. Eventually I got up on my ladder and made disgusted noises at the decaying leaves in there; they are now laid around the apple tree since that seemed like the thing to do but the gutter is still dripping where it shouldn't because it is not only not angled right, some of which is probably due to the roof sagging because whoever put the supports in place DID IT WRONG SO SOME HAVE ROTTED AT THE BASE BY AN INCH OR TWO, the places where lengths of gutter are (theoretically) butted against each other don't seem to be working to keep water inside the gutter as I assume it should.

Adding "caulk" to my hardware shopping list; not the right long-term solution but should be a reasonable one until getting the roof supports replaced.

There is another very short length of gutter that doesn't have a proper downspout, or run into the other gutter, so the water goes right down onto some of the porch concrete - I took some gutter from the barn's roof (WHY DOES THE BARN HAVE BETTER GUTTER THAN THE PORCH ROOF) to rig up to direct that farther away from the house. Not the right long-term solution, but.

Also took some mystery plastic-coated wire out of a tree, where it was looped around a branch about 10 feet up - the other end was stretched out to the roof of the greenhouse for reasons neither my dad nor I could imagine a good reason for. He was quite alarmed that anyone would hook a cable from a tree to a structure, thinking that if the wind blew hard enough and the tree swayed, it could do some damage to the building; we took the greenhouse end down at that point. I found some more of the same kind of wire stuffed into a box of mostly trash - this stuff at least doesn't have the plastic coating essentially rotting off due to long-term exposure to the elements so perhaps I'll find a use for it.

There were some truly horrifying discoveries in the same box of trash which I will not commit to print. Let's just say "mason jars" and "biohazard, oh my god, oh no," *things gingerly set inside a contractor bag for disposal* and move on.

There are several piles of wood around the place, and there's a part of me that really wants to put it all in one spot, perhaps inside the barn, which has some open "windows" high up but does NOT have a leaky roof, so the wood would stay dry, and there's another part of me that knows there are many small creatures that like to make homes in and under piles of wood, and that's always kind of fun. I found one of the most enormous fucking woodlice I have ever seen this morning, and an epic unit of a spider about 2 inches away. Sadly they'd both moved on before I could get pictures.

If it sounds like I am complaining a lot about the state of various things, well, I am, but I am also having a really good time.

In addition to helping with "what wiring do these breakers connect to, anyway?" and the water valve situation, my dad gave me some good ideas about how to a) fix the sagging fucking porch roof and b) turn the incomplete portion of the greenhouse into a proper greenhouse, so. Perhaps next summer! It needs a roof, a door, and several large gaps sealed off, plus more siding, but there are already big windows in place all the way around it; I would have to shade the south-facing ones in the summer because otherwise I think it would get Too Hot real fast, even with the screened windows fully open. Anyway, easy, relatively cheap year-round greenhouse is very exciting, and while it is not a large space (maybe 60-80 square feet?), when compared to the number of orchids and cactus/sun-loving succulents, etc., I have, it's fucking enormous.

"Well, I'll have to buy more plants!" I said, joking/not-joking.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 2

I’m so glad that you guys are enjoying this new series! Work was pretty hectic for me today, but here is the next part, albeit a little late.

For the last vote, A won out, meaning that Hero is going to attempt to a more direct approach to aiding Villain. Though, the things they see in this part may just change their mind.

CW//Shapeshifting, cartoon violence, insults, being called ‘worthless,’ interventions, residential medical facilities, flashbacks

The blow came out of nowhere.

It was a rhetorical statement as much as it was a completely literal one. That didn’t matter in the moment, however-- the fist had very much struck Hero in the back of their head, causing them to stumble forwards.

Before them, their assailant rematerialized from thin air, gasping with a smirk upon their face. They blew on their knuckles, as if blowing smoke from a firearm’s muzzle. Stupid, arrogant kid.

“Come on!” The villain taunted. “I thought you were supposed to be good.”

Hero didn’t bother to transform before they leapt; they did that mid-air, curled fingers turning into canine claws before them. Said claws were aimed truly at the villain a few feet ahead, directed at their panicked expression.

Suddenly, Hero felt to be on the edge of a roof. Facing a completely different foe.

Throwing themself to the ground was not a conscious choice, but it was the action that they took.

The hero in lupine shape skidded to the ground, head spinning as it struck concrete. By the time they were back to all four paws, their opponent was long gone. In their wake, the door slammed closed.

Why did they...

No. This villain looked nothing like them. They shook their head, turning back to human form in order to begin tearing out the door.

The laboratory was a nightmare to navigate. White walls stretched far further than they had any right to, all looking terribly identical. Had it been any other situation, Hero would have found themself hopelessly lost.

But they could make a pretty good guess where their target had run off to. It was probably the hall where the shouting and banging was emanating from.

Hero skidded about a corner, forgetting momentarily that in human form they lacked dewclaws, causing them nearly to fall. They did not, however, turning the corner and stopping before they collided with the active battle.

Leader swore loudly as they failed to land a blow on the villain. However, their attacker missed in turn, putting themself in such a position that allowed Teammate to grab them from behind.

The villain yelled and struggled. Almost as if they’d just fallen from the roof of a building, and were now screaming, fighting back against those trying to hold them down.

Hero was on a collision course with Teammate before they so much as realized it. Halfway through the movement, their body turned from human to that of a far more formidable wildcat, easily sending their friend sprawling on the white tile. In turn, the villain their friend had been restraining freed themself.

Leader was too stunned, in the moment, to react. By the time everyone in the corridor had returned to their senses, their opponent had long since dematerialized and left.

Leaving only the three Heroes in the hallway. Two heads turned to stare at the third.

Hero’s feline ears turned back a moment, an expression that was translated to flushing as they returned to human form. Teammate pried themself off the floor, brushing dust from their uniform.

“Sorry.” Hero dipped their head.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Leader snapped. In comparison to the quiet building, it sounded like a gong being struck. “We almost had them!”

“I was, uh, trying to get them on the ground.”

“I had it handled.” Teammate commented in a far calmer tone of voice. “I don’t think we have any chance of catching up to them now, though.”

“No. Probably not. No thanks to someone.” Leader shook their head. “We were so damn close.”

“And they got the medicines too.” Teammate added.

“They what?”

“The medicines?”

“I thought those were secured.”

“Well... They were. And then they took them.”

“Oh my god, you two are stupid.” Leader hissed through gritted teeth. “Hero, what happened in the other room? I thought you had them pinned.”

“They got away.”

“You two are so stupid. I asked for a team, and this is what I get... Worthless. Well, it’s a lost cause, now. Let’s get back to the car.”

Hero and Teammate hung their heads, but weren’t about to argue. They began their walk out of the building in silence, a silence that continued until they had traversed a few flights of stairs. That was when Leader spoke up, once again, some of the most acute venom seeming to have left their voice.

“Hero... You seem nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“I know you can fight better than what I just saw. I want to know why.”

“I guess... I guess I’m not sure.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

No. Of course they weren’t sure, because it was a lie. The night prior, after their diner meeting with Hacker, they had not succeeded in getting a single second of sleep. Now, they felt like their legs-- however many they happened to have at the moment-- were made of jello.

“I’m sure. I just need some sleep.”

“And then you’ll be back to normal?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I need my best fighter back in shape. Villains don’t catch themselves, y’know.”

Except, sometimes, they did. Sometimes they tripped, right off the edge of a roof. And, sometimes, their fall haunted the dreams of the hero who had caused it.

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The dorms at HQ were a lot of things. They were cramped, and cluttered, and the thermostats never seemed to work quite right. All of that, though, was normal. A life spent living in apartments and dorms had gotten Hero plenty used to making themself comfortable in small quarters.

The bad thing about them was that, living in an enclosed space with the same people for years on end, it became just about impossible to pretend they weren’t home when someone knocked on the door.

That didn’t mean they didn’t try every single time, however.

Hero nestled themself further under the blankets that covered them, burying their head beneath their pillow in an attempt to block out the incessant knocking. Eventually, they gave up, shouting back:

“Hero isn’t home. You can’t come in.”

“If Hero isn’t home how are they talking to me?” Came Teammate’s joking cadence.

“This is a recording. Please come back later or not at all.”

“Well, can I at least come in and talk to a recording of Hero?”

“Fine.”

Hero rolled over, staring at the ceiling a moment before getting off the bed to let their friend inside. They were smiling, which was automatically a red flag.

Teammate found themself a seat on the couch shoved into the corner of the dorm, while Hero returned to their bed, collapsing dramatically onto their back.

“I have a feeling that you know why I’m here.” Teammate started, in that weird voice they used when trying to calm down a civilian.

“What are you, my therapist?”

“No. But I am worried about you.”

“I told Leader already. I’m just tired.”

“Is that why you tackled me out of nowhere?”

“I was trying to tackle the villain.”

“While I was already holding them?”

“Can you just drop it? I’m fine. I just need to go to bed early tonight.”

“it’s not just today, though. You’ve been acting weird all week. Maybe longer.”

“Have not.”

“When you froze up on that roof?”

“Nope.”

“When you pretended to be sick so you didn’t have to go to that ceremony at the university?”

“Had a cold.”

“When you just let a villain punch you in the face?”

“I- Why do you have to be right all the time?”

“Not all the time. But I think everyone has been getting a bit worried about you. You haven’t been acting yourself... We just want to help. Are you sick? You can be honest with me.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine. Physically, I’m fine. So I should be fine and dandy.”

Teammate nodded.

“The anniversary.”

“You remembered?”

“They had it on the news. Though I have a feeling you didn’t need any help remembering.”

“No.”

“How many days has it been, now?”

“374.”

“Nine days since the anniversary of Villain’s capture. Nine days you’ve been acting weird. That’s an awfully interesting coincidence.”

“I’m worried about them.” Hero dipped their head. “I can’t- I can hardly sleep.”

“You’re worried about Villain?”

“Well- I’m not worried about them. Of course I’m not worried about them, they’re a villain. But...”

“But?”

“It’s been over a year, and there’s been no news. You’d think they’d be like, fighting back, or trying to escape, or something.”

“Is that what you’re worried about, them escaping?”

How were they supposed to escape when they couldn’t even open their eyes?

“I guess so, yeah. It doesn’t seem right for them to be so docile like that.”

“The rehabbers are very good.”

“I know they are. But Villain is... they’re the worst! When they were captured the city threw a parade! They’ve hurt so many people. And now they’re just gone.”

“You think they’re planning something?”

“I guess.”

“Well... why don’t you go see them?”

“What?”

“It’s not like they’re being held on some secret Alcatraz. The rehab place is just across the city. They’ll probably let you in if you just go up and ask.”

“You really think that would work?”

“Why not? Villain is probably just going to like, spit on you or something, but if it’s worrying you this much, just go see them. You’ll see that they’re under control, and then maybe you won’t tackle me anymore?”

“I’ll try not to.” Hero chuckled. “You think that’s gonna work?”

“It’s worth a try. Besides, maybe Villain will be better, this time. Those rehabbers are crazy good at their jobs. I don’t think a single villain has come out of their still being, like, evil. They have a one hundred percent success rate, as far as I know.”

Almost one hundred percent.

Almost.

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This was stupid.

It was the only thing Hero could think about, sitting there in the parking lot, staring at the building with its cute little picket fence and brightly-colored exterior.

It was a stupid plan. They had spent so long the night prior, overthinking the few brief words they had exchanged with Hacker.

Villain needed to leave that place.

At the very least, they needed to... Hero didn’t know what they needed. They needed to be contained, certainly. They were dangerous. Too dangerous to be free. But they at least deserved to be awake.

Did they?

Yes. Of course they did. If asked, Hero was unsure if they could truly defend their position on the matter, but they knew that Villain did not deserve to be in the state that they currently suffered. It wasn’t right.

That wit. That tongue. Those sharp, intelligent eyes.

Villain did not deserve to be drowned in sedatives until they could no longer remember their own name.

It did not matter where they went. Where they were contained. So long as they were allowed to be awake. Allowed to live.

They at least deserved that much.

But... Hero had no power over such things. Every possible plan they had concocted fell apart as soon as they tried to think it through. Certainly, despite its cutesy exterior, this building was heavily guarded. Even if they did manage to get Villain out of the facility, where would they take them? Hell, as soon as they were out, Villain would probably tear their throat out!

They should have just gone right back to the HQ and forgotten the whole affair. But that image of their foe, dead to the world, would not leave their mind. It was burned into their eyelids. They saw it when they blinked.

Hero had no plan. But, they had a car, and a near complete lack of self restraint.

They had no intention of going in guns blazing. They’d be taken out in seconds, and would probably land in the very same facility, being “rehabilitated.” But, if they could at least get in, then that was a significant hurdle leapt.

And they had the perfect plan to achieve that step.

Hero’s hadn’t even realized just how white their knuckles had grown from having gripped the steering wheel with such force for so long. Their fingers ached as they removed them from the wheel, exiting the vehicle.

For a moment, they stood there.

The only sort of barrier between the facility and the outside world was a white picket fence, only a few feet in height. A moderately athletic cat could jump it. A villain would have no difficulty.

Beyond the fence, the building looked almost like any medical clinic. Decorative windchimes hung from the awning overtop the entrance, which was little more than a pair of glass doors. There wasn’t even a visible lock. From either side of the main part of the structure, wings of patient rooms stretched, their windows decorated with childish crafts made of construction paper and glue.

It looked more like a civilian hospital than something holding the city’s most dangerous criminals.

Hero hated just how nervous they felt, opening the gate to the picket fence and approaching the front door. Their suspicions were correct-- the doors were unlocked, and a bell above them even chimed as they were opened.

The lobby beyond was small, consisting of only a single desk, at which a lab-coated person typed on a computer. As Hero entered, they looked up. Their eyes widened.

“Hero?” Their mouth was almost agape. “I didn’t think we were expecting a visit from you.”

“Sorry about that. It’s kind of a more... spur of the moment thing.”

“Oh? How can we help you?”

Hero approached the desk, trying to hide the way their finger refused to stop twitching.

“I...” Their shoulders slumped. They weren’t an actor by any means, but they had gotten plenty of practice in lying to Leader about how long they had spent in the gym. “A bit over a week ago, it was the one year anniversary of Villain’s capture.”

“Was it? Time flies, I suppose.”

“I was wondering if I could see them.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“I’m just a little... suspicious. I want to make sure they’re doing alright. That they aren’t planning anything.”

“Hm... Well, I can understand your concern, but I assure you that Villain has been a model patient.”

“Even so... Can I see them?”

Hero could see the tips of the Labcoat’s ears growing red.

“Let me talk to the head doctor.” They stood from their desk, notably turning off their computer as they did so. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

“No need.”

At the back of the small lobby area, a door opened, revealing a man wearing a pair of blue scrubs and a warm smile.

“I’m right here, Labcoat. Is there something you need- Oh my goodness, Hero in the flesh! For what do we get the honor?”

“Um-”

“They want to see Villain.”

That dropped Head Doctor’s smile pretty quick.

“I see.” They nodded, nearing the desk. “Wanting to visit the old nemesis, hm?”

“I just want to make sure they’re doing alright. That they aren’t... planning anything.”

Head Doctor frowned a moment, before sighing.

“I’m sorry, Hero. And to think you came all this way. But I’m going to have to say no. You see, Villain has had a hard day, today. Usually they’re very well-behaved, but they had some trouble today. I don’t think it would be the best idea to rile them up like that, right now. I’m terribly sorry.”

Hero put their hand in their pocket, ensuring that the doctors could not see as they balled it into a fist.

“I understand.” They nodded, trying their best not to grit their teeth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s terribly unfortunate. If you had just come another day... But I don’t want to waste your time entirely. And it’s such a terribly long drive across town.” Again, Head Doctor’s countenance was brightened by a grin. “You won’t be able to see your nemesis today, but how about a tour? You can speak to our other patients, if you would like. They’re eating lunch right about now.”

A tour.

Hero could work with that.

“That would be great. Are you sure it’s... Are you sure it’s safe? Not that I’m worried or anything, but.”

“Of course it’s safe. It’s always safe, here. Come on. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see you.”

Yeah. Delighted.

Head Doctor’s blue scrubs rippled under the bright florescents as they turned, heading back towards that door at the rear of the room. It felt almost too good to be true, but Hero wasted no time in following suit.

This door, unlike the others, was metal, and required a key to be passed through. It opened with a rather heavy creak, and clicked solidly as it closed behind Hero. They almost jumped.

If they were being quite honest, they had never really thought about where villains went after they were locked up. Like a hunting dog, they had little care where their prey ended up, only that they retrieved it. If they had to guess where their fallen foes ended up, they would have likely described a well-secured concrete building, complete with snipers and barbed wire.

Not a cute little hospital ward.

The door from the lobby opened into a wide-open, carpeted space, decorated by several sofas and a television, alongside a few well-stocked bookshelves. Beyond it, three hallways sprouted-- one to the front, and one to the left or the right.

Every door was wood.

“We call this the commons.” Head Doctor explained with a smile. “A sort of... hang out space. And those two halls lead to the patients rooms. Not much to see there.”

In an awfully hurried manner, they lead Hero forwards, into the hallway that led straight out from the commons. It was wide, with several doors on either side. Yet, not a single window.

“This is where me and my colleagues work, most of the the time. It’s mostly offices for our therapists. And that one, there, is my office.”

During the whole explanation, they did not stop walking forwards. They only did so at the end of the hallway, where a door was embedded.

“Um... This is the dining hall, just past this door. Everyone is eating lunch right now. I assure you that it’s perfectly safe, but I understand if you don’t want to see some of your, um, old foes.”

“It’s fine.” Hero did their best to smile. “Is Villain in there?”

“No. They decided to eat lunch in their room today.” Head Doctor chimed, opening the door. From behind it, there was no sound.

Nothing that Head Doctor said had been untrue. The dining hall was clean, immaculately so, scattered with plastic tables and chairs, both painted to look as though they were made of wood. Each table only sat two people, and most of them were full.

Full of the city’s worst. Villains who had hurt people, who had killed dozens.

They seemed happy enough, at least based upon the expressions on their faces. It was just about as typical as a cafeteria during mealtime could get.

Except for the quiet.

Even with the two dozen or so people sitting and eating, not a single one spoke. Each and every one of them seemed intent on sitting and eating the food before them. 

Hero scanned the room a moment, gaze eventually setting upon one of the few tables with an empty chair. They didn't recognize the villain very well. They may have had ice-related powers, or something of the like. But they had fought, at least once. And Hero didn’t remember them being that horrible.

It was something. It was the best they were going to get.

“Head Doctor?” They spoke up.

“Yes, Hero?”

“There’s someone else here, I want to speak to.” They gestured towards the villain, sitting alone. Staring at their food. Engrossed. “We used to, um, we fought a lot. I want to talk to them.”

“Oh? Well, that’s just fine by me. It’s always good to reconcile. They’re a model patient. Do you want anything to eat?”

“No thank you.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back at the end of lunch, if that sounds alright?”

“That’s just fine.”

“Splendid! I will see you then, Hero.”

Hero ducked their head in agreement, waiting until the doctor had left before approaching the table. They moved slowly, taking a seat across from the villain that they couldn’t so much as remember the name of. Even as they sat down, the person across from the table did not so much as bat an eye.

They only did so when Hero spoke up:

“Um, hello.”

It was oddly slow, the way in which the villain raised their head. They placed down their fork gingerly, smiling.

“Hello, Hero. I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

“Uh, you neither. How are you doing?”

“I am doing just fine, Hero.” It was terribly stilted, the way in which they spoke, as though they had to carefully consider each word. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Did you come here to visit me?”

“Um, not you specifically. I came here to visit Villain.”

The edges of the villain’s smile flickered a moment, as if continuing to keep them upturned was quickly becoming a major effort.

“You should leave this place, Hero.” Even as they said it, their smile never fell. “It’s not worth it.”

Their hand gripped around the handle of their fork.

“Do you know where they are? Where Villain is?”

“Yes I do, Hero. I did not think you would care. It is you who put them here.”

“I didn’t do anything. Are they-” They looked around, expecting to see at least one guard, one nurse, one orderly. But the dining hall was barren of every person except villains. “Are they okay?”

“If I tell you that, I will end up like them. You do not want to be in this place, Hero. You should leave this place.”

“Um-” A single drop of sweat dripped down the side of their face, tracing their jawline. “I really suddenly need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s right there.” The villain raised a hand, pointing to a door labelled ‘16 - Restrooms′. “The bathroom is in room 43.”

Hero didn’t have to be given the hint twice.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes! 

A.) Risk it all and attempt a prison break - Should Hero attempt to free the others, as well?

B.) Don’t take the risk. Leave and reconsider - Should Hero tell anyone what they saw?

[sodamnbored]

Tyrant’s Tomb/New Rome Headcannon (Spoilers)

Okay so, in Tyrant’s Tomb Apollo and Meg rock up to New Rome and have nowhere to stay and there’s a lot happening and stuff. So they wind up getting sent to this two headed guy, Bombilo, who puts them up in the room above his coffee shop.

I don’t think that Bombilo or his housing of these two was supposed to be particularly important but I cannot stop making it into a thing, so strap in because I have quotes.

‘I remembered the two-headed, green aproned barista who had scowled at us on the Via Praetoria. I wondered why he would’ve been kind enough to give us lodging, and why, of all places, the legion had decided to put us here.’

This line is very important to my theory. Meg then explains that Bombilo just happened to have the closest supply of a spice that was needed to treat Apollo’s wound so that’s why they went there. Which, sure. But I’m going to use that in addition to my theory, not as the entire reason. More quotes first though:

Apollo describes Bombilo as ‘their grumpy host’, and pretty much the whole book keeps this view, even as Bombilo loads them up with coffee and muffins and such any time they go anywhere really. You get the feeling again that Apollo is a bit surprised by the free breakfasts and treats - but he’s usually also distracted by everything else that’s happening (which fair enough, he’s literally dying and there’s a war happening on two fronts) or worrying about Meg being insufferable hyped up on sugar, so he doesn’t pay it much attention. Certainly not as much attention as I’m paying it.

Then at the end when they’re leaving New Rome to continue the next part of their quest, you get this:

‘When Meg and I left the cafe for the last time, Bombilo actually cried. Behind his gruff exterior, the two-headed barista turned out to be a real sentimentalist. He gave us a dozen scones and a bag of coffee beans, and told us to get out of his sight before he started bawling again. I took charge of the scones. Meg, gods help me, took the coffee.’

Okay theory time:

So Apollo is clearly surprised and somewhat confused by Bombilo’s reaction to them leaving. Bombilo is not a big character in this book, he’s only mentioned very casually a few times. And it’s written from Apollo’s perspective, so we know Apollo isn’t sure what he and Meg could’ve done to have made such an impression on the big guy.

I’m thinking perhaps it’s not really about Apollo and Meg specifically. I think they just represent demigods and kids of New Rome in general to Bombilo.

Linking back to the first quote there, Apollo is confused why this seemingly gruff monster would be willing to put them up, and also why Frank and Reyna would’ve thought to put them in his care in the first place. It seems like an odd choice, or at least pretty random. Even considering the spice supply, it probably wouldn’t have made much difference timing wise to carry Apollo into the nearest building while somebody ran to the nearby shop to get some spice.

So I’m thinking perhaps Bombilo regularly houses demigods. I’ve mentioned before that although we don’t have a lot of concrete info on the legion, you never seem to see mention of anyone younger than about twelve or thirteen enlisted. So it’s plausible to assume that the legion might have a minimum age requirement. So in cases where younger children roll up to camp but are too young to join up and need some raising, that they’d go live in New Rome until they could join the legion and get training.

Little kids would need someone to take care of them, so I could definitely see there being volunteers in the city acting as temporary guardians or pseudo foster families. If Bombilo was one of those people, he wouldn’t have a problem taking two kids in at short notice, and Frank and Reyna probably knew he was on the list of nearby people ready to take in strays - it’s just an added perk that he has the necessary stuff for Apollo’s first aid, making him the clear choice to house them.

Apollo assumes that he and Meg have taken Bombilo’s room, but he never mentions or wonders where Bombilo himself then stays. So if Bombilo hasn’t been forced to kip on a table in the cafe, it’s reasonable to propose that there’s another room or somewhere for Bombilo to live. Leaving Meg and Apollo’s room as lodgings for the flow of kids in need of accommodation.

Apollo thinks of him as grumpy and gruff, even as he’s giving them free food and drinks when they have to rush out in the mornings for training or dangerous quests or the like. That’s a fairly paternal thing to do. If he’d just been lumbered with them and was actually annoyed about it, he needn’t have bothered, or could’ve tried to charge. Instead, much like a parental figure seeing their kids running late to school or activities, they shove some last minute breakfast into their hands and send them on their way. I’m not saying Bombilo isn’t a tsundere about it, but I think he cares, and I think he cares out of habit. It’s his job to look after the kids in his spare room.

Apollo also mentions subtly in narration small things about feeling at home there. The sounds from the shop downstairs, Bombilo singing to himself, little things that contrast his main impression of Bombilo as the intimidating barista having to put up with them, with how he’s still been put at ease, made comfortable and feels warm and welcome there. Kinda makes me feel like even if it were subtle things that Apollo didn’t take note of consciously, Bombilo is doing a good job at taking care of them, of being a good pseudo-guardian. Home is an important concept and revelation for Apollo in this book, and he says he feels at home in the room above the shop, in New Rome in general with his new friends. In my experience, the people who can most easily and successfully make you feel at home somewhere new or that isn’t home, tend to be parents or guardians, people with paternal tendencies and experience.

And finally, that whole bit where they leave. Apollo is surprised to see Bombilo burst into tears, to see him care so much, be so affected by them leaving. Not that Apollo didn’t care for Bombilo at all, I think he did, he certainly appreciated him on some level, but I don’t think he’d bothered to get as attached to him as an individual as he had with other members of the legion, like Lavinia or Frank or Hazel. So he can’t really understand why Bombilo would miss them so much, because surely he shouldn’t be so attached to them either when their interactions have been mostly limited to running out the door and being tossed a muffin.

But there’s been a war in New Rome and the losses were devastating- realistically the most severe losses we’ve seen in any previous book. The legion was decimated and that’s not an exaggeration at all. Assuming Bombilo has acted as a sort of halfway house for pre-legion kids, he’s probably had a lot of them passing through his spare room, sent off to the legion and statistically, probably a lot of them have now either gone missing or were part of one of the mass funerals. He’s basically watched his kids die, so many of his kids, over the last couple of weeks. That would be horrifying and no wonder he’s as sensitive as the rest of the city and legion over the losses. He’s probably grieving pretty heavily.

Just to make it sad, put it in perspective, because he was such a focal point at the time, and because I love him, let’s throw Jason in there too.

Presuming he rolled into camp under the age limit for the legion and needed to be sent to the city to grow up a bit, maybe he wound up in Bombilo’s care. Maybe Jason grew up in that little room above the coffee shop, lulled to sleep each night with the hiss of the espresso machine and Bombilo’s soft two part harmonies. Maybe Bombilo watched this little boy grow up, pressing muffins into his hands before he could run out the door to catch the games in the coliseum, or play in the streets with the other kids. Maybe Bombilo gave Jason a bag of scones the morning he waved goodbye and left the shop, left home, to move into the legion barracks. Maybe Jason stopped by for visits and coffee to fuel his praetorship, came by for celebratory cookies after surviving hard missions. Maybe after leaving New Rome to go to school in the mortal world, he’d still always remember to drop by when he did visit the city. Maybe he was supposed to visit the next time he came home to New Rome. He wasn’t supposed to come back in a casket.

The whole legion was shaken by Jason’s loss. If Bombilo had known him, had potentially cared for him, he’d be just as devastated as anyone. And to think he, along with other volunteers, could’ve practically raised half the legion - with the amount of dead and missing legionaires - the number of his foster kids he’d be grieving for is heartbreaking.

And now he’s looked after two new kids, because they are just kids, and they’re leaving too. They’re heading out on an impossibly dangerous quest that could very easily get them killed and they all know that. And when he looks at them, he sees them as children, he sees them as every child that’s passed through his spare room, that he’s given free snacks to just to get them through the day. Every kid he’s cared for that’s smiled and waved goodbye at the door saying “wish me luck on my quest!” only to never come home again.

And it doesn’t matter how little time Lester and Meg have spent with him, or how much he really knows them. He looks at them walking away from his shop, right into danger, and he sees a small blond boy in his new armour walking down the street in their place. He sees a polished mahogany box being carried sombrely down the street in their place.

[spideymarvelws]

Always But Not Forever

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My TagList

Summary : During the interrogation of a mole, Tom learns something

A/n : I want to write something for the holidays but i dont do fluff (unless its requested) so here’s a angsty mob!au instead

Warnings : Torchere, blood, violence, cursing, illusion do death, fluff if you squint (dont worry it doesnt last long), mention of injuries, mention of manipulation, implied death?

Word Count : 1.7k

...

“You know, I almost admire the audacity you must’ve had to pull off something like this,” Tom chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up, “To betray us, to betray me,”

The pads of his fingers passed over the array of equipment laid out on the table in front of him, teasing the handles of guns, knives and other various torchere devices. Usually, he would just grab his trusty blade from the holder on his belt, slicing the person's throat to watch them bleed out on the chair, coughing and pleading for their life.

But this was a special occasion, one he wanted to drag on for as long as possible. He wanted to hear her screams fill the room, echoing its way around the warehouse. He wanted the floor to be soaked in her blood, dripping from her skin. He wanted to watch her life drain from her eyes slowly and painfully.

But first, he needed to get answers.

“So,” he said slowly, “Are you going to tell me why? Or do I have to force out out of you,”

The woman only chuckled, her eyes hooded as she stared him straight in the eye, “I think we both know the answer to that Tommy,”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growled, striding up and grabbing her throat with enough force to lean the chair back, not caring if it were to fall and break on the hard, concrete floor.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” she fake pouted, “I thought you loved the name? Or is it only reserved for your whore of a wife,”

“You really want to die don’t you,” Tom chuckled darkly, bending down to look her directly in the eyes, face inches apart, “You’re on thin fucking ice,”

“And I want to shatter it,” she sneered, leaning her own face forward as much as she could with the restraints tied around her, “Just like I did your best pals heart,”

Tom felt his chest tighten at the mention of Harrison. He would never blame the blond for what happened, because despite the guilt he held, he knew that it wasn't his fault. He blamed himself for getting his friend in the hospital on his deathbed. Well maybe not that drastic, Harrison was a hard fucker to get rid of, he knew that no matter what he would hang on  but it felt like he had already lost him.

He couldn't get the images out of his head, the flashes of red, screams pounding in his ear. But the sight of her standing above his best friend, gun in hand, ready to fire. The thought alone made his go feral.

And he hated that, he hated that she knew how to get under his skin so easily. After getting so close, to not just him but his close family, his friends, to you. He could already picture the hurt that would spread across your face when he would tell you. You both valued close bonds with people, building that relationship to something reliable, something worth trusting.

So when that trust was broken, all hell broke loose.

“I’m sure you’ll do just a fine job at that,” he muttered, standing back straight up, “And the moment you do I’ll put a bullet between your eyes,”

“Oh we both know you couldn't do that Tommy,” she smirked, “Not when I have so much valuable information that you so desperately need,”

Tom chuckled, picking up a syringe filled with a light blue liquid. His fingers flicked the cover before taking it fully off, revealing the needle to the open air, “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he turned back around to face her, his face void of emotion, “Gag her,”

Him and his men had spent the next, god knows how long trying countless methods and tactics they always used to get people like her to talk. But nothing worked, even after repeatedly taking out the gag, waiting for the answers they had been searching for, she didn't budge.

She stayed completely stoic.

Tom tried his best to keep calm, unbuttoning the top of his shirt when his breath became restraint with the added pressure to around his neck

“It wouldn't matter anyways,” she sniffed, finally calming down while spitting out a wad of blood from her mouth, “I’ve already gotten what I wanted,”

“What the fuck is that suppose too mean,” Tom said exasperatedly.

“It means-,” she interrupted herself while trying to stop the sick laughter threatening to erupt from her throat, “I never thought you cared so much about me Tommy, to spend so long with me when-,” she tilted her head to the side, “You have a wife at home don’t you?”

Tom felt his heart stop, “What did you do?”

“Might want to check that little wifey of yours Tommy,” she cackled, blood splattering from her mouth, staining the collar of her shirt and the floor in front of her, “Who knows how much time she might have left!”

“WHAT! The fuck! Did you do!” He screamed, clutching her bloody shirt in his fists, not caring if some of the liquid transferred to his already red hands.

“You left me alone, with Y/n, for months,” she giggled, “What do you think I did?”

“If you hurt her-,”

“You’ve already done your worst to me Holland,” the grin settling on her face became unsettling, “Now it’s my turn to watch you suffer,”

Tom didn't want to question her further. He didn't want his temper to take over the little control he tried to maintain over his mind. With a short gruff he pulled away from the woman, walking over to one of his men stationed by the door of the warehouse.

“Break her legs and take her to the hut, prepare the call and get Dr brown on the phone and tell Sam to get to Y/n as soon as possible,” he whispered under his breath, “Take me back home to my wife,”

...

“Good Girl,” you yawned, lazily scratching the top of Tessa’s head. It had been a chill day for you in the mansion, lounging around in your husband's clothes while you decorated your section of the building, preparing for the holidays. Tom insisted on getting decorators, knowing how clumsy you were, he didn't want you to hurt yourself. At least that’s the excuse he told you, you knew it was because he didn't want you doing any work on your holidays. 

Nevertheless, you were proud of the work you’ve done, the lights strung along your bedroom walls illuminating the room, making your placement by the window feel more cozy than usual. And with the addition of the cutest dog and a mug of ginger tea, staring out into the snowy garden never felt more calming. The only thing that would make this better is to be cuddled with your personal teddy bear, but your prayers were answered when he called unexpectedly.

“Hi Tommy,” you answered sweetly, gulping down a good bit of the tea,“What’s wrong? I thought you were busy with work?”

“Y/n?” Tom said seriously, a hard edge to his voice you never heard when he talked directly to you, “Y/n, you need to listen to me right now, okay?”

“Okay,” you sat up, throwing your blanket off your lap, “Okay, yeah,” you learnt not to question things like these with Tom’s line of work.

“Where are you right now?” you could hear the click of his shoes hitting the floor in the background, the sound of the vehicle's engines vroomed to life.

“I’m in our bedroom, with Tessa,” you answered quickly, squinting your eyes when you watched her body bounce away when your hand retracted from her fur, “Well just me now,” 

“You’re going to need to go to the medic bay, Doctor Brown will be there and he’ll explain everything,” a car door slammed shut, “Sam is coming to escort you, just,” he let out a deep breath, “Are you alright?”

You melted at the crack in his voice, clearing your throat before answering him, “I’m fine Tommy, never felt better,”

“Are you sure love?” he whispered, his voice losing its harsh tone, falling back to the soft, breathy one you grow to love.

“I’m-,” you moved away from the phone, coughing into your sleeve, “Sorry, uh, yeah I’m fine Tom,”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re okay to me,”

“I-,” you coughed again, this time more violently that the last, “It’s just a cough, probably from that food truck we went out to last night,” you forced a chuckle, trying to keep the air as light hearted as possible.

“A cough? When did this start,” Tom said urgently.

“Uh, this morning i think?” you sniffled, shuffling around to find a tissue box for your sudden runny nose, “I’m sure it’s just a bug Tommy,”

“Y/n, Is Sam there yet?”

“I didn’t hear him no,” your coughing continued, “Do you want me to go outside to check?”

“No, no, stay until he comes, I don’t want you going by yourself,”

Tom’s words began to blur when you took note of the red sploshing your white hoodie. You ran to the bathroom, cursing at the blood trailing from your nose, staining the bottom half of your face.

Your raging coughs continued, splattering droplets across the marble counter

“Love? Are you still there?” Tom said panicked, “Sam said he’s moving as quick as he can,”

“Tommy,” you whimpered, your hand clutching your chest in pain, “I-,” you braced yourself against the counter, feeling weaker and weaker, “Tommy, I don’t-,”you grabbed at your closing throat, “I don’t feel so good,” 

“Love? Y/n?” Tom said frantically, “Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, Sam is almost there, I’m so close to our house, hang in there okay?” he debated his next words, “You’ve been poisoned okay? You’ve been poisoned and if you get the help in time you will get better, just,” his voice hitched, “Please don’t go,”

Your throat burned as your breath started to become short, hiccupy wheezes. Blood began to drip from your nose and mouth onto the tiled floor. You could feel your chest tighten, your heart physically hurting until you couldn't take in any longer.

“Tom-my?” you managed to let out before collapsing on the floor, the shouts of your name echoing in the back of your ear before blackness covered your eyesight, followed by a bright, white light.

...

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