#everyone else keeps debating and holding meetings and giving empty statements when all of this could stop with one phonecall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 3

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.4K

**read this first!**a/n: be sure to read the newspaper article at the end of Jimin’s POV, it’s important to the story! if you’re unable to see the words b/c they’re too small, please comment/let me know and I’ll fix it! If you’re on mobile, you should be able to click on it and flip it to horizontal. That should make it easier to read.

Chapter 3. Fake Smile

series masterlist

Jimin fiddles with a loose thread hanging off the end of his sleeve, minding his business as hushed staff members bustle around the room. He’s wearing a pristine white jacket over his button down shirt. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last dressed up for anything.

“Ok, we’re ready to go,” someone in the distance says. Jimin sits up a little straighter, trying his best to look overjoyed to be here. A familiar makeup artist rushes forward, dabbing at his face and giving him a warm look.

“Oh, let me get this for you,” she mumbles, noticing the loose thread that Jimin keeps twisting and pulling. Taking a pair of small scissors from the bag around her waist, she goes to cut the string.

Jimin tenses up, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “No, leave it,” he mumbles. The makeup artist doesn’t hear him, thinking he’s just being polite.

Suddenly Jimin jumps up, backing away as fast as he can. “Leave it be!” He sobs, bringing his hand close to his chest.

Everyone freezes, looking to the idol with a mixture of worry and confusion. The makeup artist from before is the first one to put two and two together, bowing low and profusely apologizing.

It takes a few minutes for Jimin to come back to his senses, finally going through some breathing exercises and assuring the worried staff that he’s fine. When he finally settles back on the stool, the same makeup artist hurries over, keeping her eyes averted as she hurriedly touches up his makeup.

The guilt hits Jimin like a brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes perfectly reflecting how horrible he feels for his outburst. “You just took me by surprise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the young woman mumbles. “I should have known better.”

Before Jimin can respond, the woman scurries away and it’s time for Jimin to film his short message to be shown at the concert.

Jimin has worn a few fake smiles in his lifetime, however as he lies straight to the camera, claiming that his muscle spasms have returned and that he’s working toward a speedy recovery, he can’t recall the lies ever hurting this much.

“Please wait for me,” Jimin says, his close-lipped smile hopefully countering the look in his eyes. “Enjoy the concert! Fighting!” He goes to raise his hand in a fist, but stops as he catches sight of his red thread in his peripheral.

Once the video is cut and Jimin is given the OK to head out, he slips out of the room immediately. A part of him would love to just go ahead and disappear into one of the empty rooms within the Bighit building, but he knows that he has to attend the meeting that Bang Sihyuk called for him and all the members.

By the time he makes it into the conference room everyone else is already there. He feels a bit more relieved when he enters the room and they don’t immediately halt in their conversation. Instead, Taehyung pulls Jimin to sit down beside him, giving him a boxy smile.

“Alright,” Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table with a soft look in his eye. “Are we ready?”

A round of agreement goes around the table, Jimin folding his hands on the table and doing his best to keep his eyes on the wall behind Hobi’s head. He definitely was aware of the line of red threads that trailed into the conference room, fighting the pang of hurt that was bound to arise.

The meeting starts off normally enough, going over a quick review of their upcoming schedule and making sure everything is prepared for their next concerts in Japan. The boys occasionally make comments or express concerns with the schedule, and everyone works together to resolve any issues that may arise.

For the first time all week, Jimin feels...normal.

That feeling comes crashing down when Bang Sihyuk’s voice rings out, calling Jimin’s name.

“We have a few options for how we can move forward,” he begins. “But I just want you to keep in mind that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles.

Sitting back, Bang Sihyuk claps his hands. “That being said, we have a few options. I’m not sure what you would feel best about, so please weigh in with your opinion.”

With that being said the entire room begins to delve into the separate ideas. Of course the company sending out a statement is one of the first ideas to be discussed, however Jimin can’t shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies it.

“I know that we can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Jimin states, sitting forward in his seat. “But isn’t there a way that we could just...I don’t know…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say in the first place.

Namjoon, who Jimin notices hasn’t even looked at him in the eye during this entire meeting, clears his throat. “We can always just take the ‘no comment’ route. I mean, there’s sure to be a lot of rumors that accompany that, but there’s going to be rumors no matter what.”

“No comment?”

Bang Sihyuk nods. “That’s basically just us refusing to ever shed light on the situation. Honestly...we might have to take that route anyway, because we really don’t know what happened. Instead of scrambling for some sort of explanation, we could just allow people to wonder. I’m not sure if Jimin would feel comfortable with-”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to Jimin, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, fiddling with the severed thread.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Like Namjoon said; there’s going to be rumors no matter what. Let them wonder. Frankly the idea of offering up some sort of patched together explanation every time people ask me about this,” he holds up his hand for emphasis, “sounds exhausting and never ending. Which, all of this will be, but I’d like to just keep this for myself.”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone takes in this information, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the verdict. In the end, it’s Jungkook who ventures to speak first.

“I think you have a point,” he says, shooting his friend an understanding look. “People are going to be asking about it nonstop and spreading rumors, so I’d feel better if what we answer is on our terms. People can so easily twist our responses.”

After a couple more minutes of discussion and debate, they settle it. Deciding to take the ‘no comment’ route for now, Jimin feels a wave of relief come over him. Namjoon, too, appears to be relieved with this decision.

Once the meeting is over, Jimin doesn’t miss the way Namjoon practically hurtles out of the room.

“Where’s he headed to?” He asks the others. Jin shrugs.

“I think he said he had to meet with Chung-hei.”

There’s a pang of pain at the mention of Namjoon’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it might have the day before. “Oh.” Before the others can dive in to make him feel better, Jimin changes the subject. “Have you guys already eaten?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the possibility of his best friend joining in on a meal with them. “Nope. Let’s go!”

The boys surround Jimin as they head down into the small cafeteria area, a few staff wandering around. The makeup artist from this morning keeps her head down, shooting Jimin a sheepish smile before scampering off. Jimin winces, recalling the events of the morning. How he’d lost complete control-

“Who even reads the paper anymore?” Jungkook asks aloud, grabbing an abandoned article from off a table. “I didn’t realize that they still delivered hard copies.”

Jimin wanders over, forcing a half-smile to his face. “Is it a real newspaper?” Before he can grab it, Jungkook drops the paper almost as though it burned his skin.

“Er, no,” he stutters out, earning a confused look from everyone around the table. “I think it’s a fake, I’ll just throw it away-”

Jimin reaches out and grabs the newspaper before Jungkook can do anything, eyes widening as they glance over the front page. Everyone else gathers around, falling eerily quiet. In the end, it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence.

“I’m sure it’s just some dumb misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “You know how reporters get.”

Jimin can hardly find it in himself to nod, rereading the article again and again.

For the first time in his life, Jimin wishes that the gossip column were true.

✂

Typically, the second I’m done with work, I do my best to not think of bread for the rest of the day. Today, however, is different.

My tiny apartment has been transformed, the kitchen dusted over with a thin layer of flour. On the counter sits an old wooden slab, a chunk of dough sitting atop it. And then there’s me.

Hands cracked to oblivion, hair pulled back in what can only be identified as a bird’s nest, panting as I flatten the dough again and again. It’s the same process that I’ve been doing for years, my shoulders hardly aching anymore with the constant practice.

Punch.

Press.

Repeat.

The sound of me beating the dough to a pulp is ringing in my ears, and when I finally step back with a huff, it takes me a moment to hear something scratching at the door. Shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing noise, I listen closer.

“Who’s there?”

A quick glance out the window shows my empty porch, however the scratching continues. Now that it’s steadily growing darker, I can’t tell if there’s anything out there.

Am I being haunted? Is this my punishment for cutting the thread?

Slowly, I open the door, wincing at the white mark I leave behind from my flour-heavy hands. “Hello?”

I get a meow in response.

Looking down, I meet eyes with a pristine white cat that sits on its back legs and looks up at me with unwavering annoyance.

“What?” I ask the cat, that simply blinks up at me. “What are you so annoyed about? You’re the one that knocked, not me.”

Nearly rolling its light colored eyes at me, the cat stretches before looking back up expectantly. From the white fur that doesn’t have a single spec of dirt, to the look it’s giving me, I feel like I just stumbled upon the queen’s cat.

“By all means, come in,” I croon, stepping aside and watching with no small amount of amusement as the cat leaps inside. It immediately heads toward the couch, jumping atop it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I mumble.

Ignoring my visitor for now, I go back to the counter and stare down at the dough. I’ve been kneading this for a while now, it’s flat enough that it might never rise. That’s not what I got it for, though. There’s already some bread baking in the oven.

Half-heartedly throwing one fist at it, I find that I’ve completely lost any energy. Instead I just stare down at the wooden slab, and wonder.

It’s the same thing that I’ve been wondering about all day. My thoughts go in endless circles, always coming back around to the same thing.

Park Jimin.

After Chung-hei appeared at the shop a couple of days ago, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what I’ve done. When I told her my reasoning, recalling the awful experience she had and admitting that I was a coward and didn’t want to go through the same thing, Chung-hei looked at me with something akin to realization.

“Jolie,” she had muttered, stopping me from hitting the dough again. “You know that he would love you, right? You’re enough. More than enough.”

Which led me to this moment, pulling out the wooden slab and spending my entire evening beating some dough and trying to beat out my emotions as well. It still hasn’t worked.

“What’s your name?”

The cat’s ears twitch a little at my sudden question, however it just continues to stare at me like I might be insane. Judging from my recent actions, I’d say it isn’t wrong.

“Are you planning on staying the night, or…?”

A swish of its tail and the cat is sinking lower into the couch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Finally abandoning the dough and washing my hands off, I meander over to my new roommate. “What should I call you? I have a feeling you won’t take kindly to just being called ‘cat’, right?”

The cat gives me a death glare, confirming my suspicions.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. Settling down beside the white cat, I admire its fur. “But I wonder why you’re here? You look like you’re well taken care of. And no collar?” Hesitantly reaching out, I double check that there is no collar hidden in its long fur. “Don’t think so. I’ll let you stay the night,” I concede. “But tomorrow you’ve got to find your way back home, ok?”

The cat swivels its head to look at me, looking offended that I would even say such a thing. It lets out a woeful mewl.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Another mewl. “Huh.”

Running my hands through its long fur, I lean my head against the wall, watching the evening turn darker and darker. The cat also joins me in my silent watch, never moving an inch as it emits a soft pur.

“I’m lost, too.” The words tumble from my mouth, a little broken. I keep my eyes ahead, watching the outside as though it will disappear at any given moment.

From the corner of my eye I see a bundle of white fur scooting toward me until the cat lumbers up into my lap. Chuckling through the unshed tears, I sniffle and adjust so we’re both comfortable.

“Should I call you ‘L’ for lost?” I ask abestmindely. I nearly jolt out of my skin when the cat hisses up at me. “Ok, ok. You’re a lady, I get it. What about ‘Elle’? You know, e-l-l-e. That’s like a princess name. Very pretty. We’ll be the only ones that know what it really means. ‘Elle’ for lost.”

I receive no further objections.

Snuggling down into the sofa, I keep my eyes open for as long as I can until they drift shut against my will.

✂

When I awake, the world is still dark. Not unusual, considering that I tend to wake up around this time everyday, but something is off-

“Elle!”

The cat in question jumps off my lap, bolting toward the door. Groaning, I rub at the back of my neck.

“Good morning. What time is it?” A quick peek at my phone that’s nearly dead has me groaning a second time. It’s already time to get up. Waddling toward the bathroom, a loud meow makes me pause.

“What?” Elle scratches a little at the door, giving me a withering gaze. “Oh. Right.” I hurry over to open the door. “Well, thanks for visiting, feel free- aaand she’s gone.”

Laughing quietly to myself, I head into the bathroom to get ready. Making sure to not even look at the mirror until I’ve scrubbed my face, I get straight to it.

I’m nearly running late when I finally leave my apartment, but thankfully the shop isn’t far from here. It allows me to walk there most mornings.

The world is still asleep as I walk down the street, admiring the dull grays and blues of the early morning. There’s a hint of a chill in the air, but it’s nothing that a brisk walk won’t take care of.

It’s in these moments of quiet that I feel like the world is pressing down on me so heavily. Unafraid of people gawking and seeing my cut thread, I let my hands hang out of my pockets.

There’s nothing to be afraid of this early in the morning. It’s only when the sun begins to rise is when trouble begins to stir up. So I take advantage of the peace that settles over me as I make my way to work. No doubt my shoulders will resent me a bit today as I spent all of my free time yesterday beating dough.

As the sleepy world continues in its quiet vigil, my thoughts return to the exchange I had with Chung-hei a couple of days ago.

“You told me you wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

Chung-hei sighs, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I was foolish. It sucked, of course it did. Suddenly I had a target on my back. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what-”

“The only way I was able to get through that and am still able to, is because of the people I have surrounding me. I have you! I have Namjoon! As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I really need. It was difficult, but I learned to quit worrying so much about what other people expected or wanted from me. I know who I love, and that’s all that matters.”

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

Nearly jumping into the street, I can’t help but yell a little as Chung-hei appears before me. She’s standing in front of the shop, a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, clutching my chest. “Why are you trying to scare me so much?”

My friend laughs. “It’s too fun, honestly. What? I can’t come to visit you at work anymore?”

“Weren’t you just here a couple of days ago?”

Chung-hei clears her throat. “Ah. Right.” She rubs at her arms. “Should we go inside, then? Fire up the oven? It’s chilly.”

Giving her a long look, I glance down at my thread. Despite being fully aware of my decision, it still shocks me a bit whenever I see the frayed end. Still a dull red, the thread looks so out of place now.

“Sure, I guess.” I grab my key out of my pocket, heading toward the front door. “Actually, I could use some help. I think I nearly beat the life out of some dough yesterday, I can hardly move my arms now.”

“Yeah. Namjoon can help.”

I stop with the door halfways open. “What do you-” Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly lose all ability to speak as I watch my friend rounding the corner of the building with none other than Kim Namjoon in tow.

He’s taller than I imagined.

And somehow able to make me what to run for the hills.

I stare at the man, forgetting all sort of courtesy or manners as he looks down at the ground sheepishly. Slowly, I turn to my friend.

“What.”

Chung-hei has the good sense to look a little apologetic. “I...you never got to meet him.”

I stare at her a moment longer, struggling to read whatever emotions are in her eyes. My heart catches in my throat. “He knows, doesn’t he.”

At this, Namjoon looks up with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t even try to lie,” I hiss out. “I’ve known your soulmate for much longer than you have, and I can tell when she’s trying to fix all my problems. Looks like she brought some help from the outside this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. I turn back to Chung-hei, who looks like she’s fighting against chewing me out for insulting her soulmate. Despite feeling a little bad for being so rude, I can’t help the anger that boils inside me.

My best friend, I realize, is no longer my confidant. It’s something I thought of before. Once we found our soulmates, it was only a matter of time before those roles shifted. However it doesn’t stop the pain that comes with seeing it firsthand.

The urge to turn and lock them out of the shop is overwhelming, but I stand still for a moment longer. The blue of the early morning is turning gray, almost matching the dark circles under Namjoon’s eyes. I see now just how much he must have gone through to get here.

Regardless of the circumstances, I still cherish my friendship with Chung-hei. Years of experiences and heartbreak can’t get washed away so easily.

“Can you work the dough?” I ask a little roughly, fighting against the lump in my throat. Namjoon blinks, looking shocked.

“Ah, see. I told you she’d come around.” Chung-hei drawls, grinning at me. I can’t quite find it in me to return her smile just yet. “I’ll help him,” she promises.

Sighing, I nod. “Come in, then. I hope you can talk and work at the same time. I have a feeling you prepared a speech.”

Previous - Next

masterlist

taglist is open! comment/send an ask/click on the link in my series Masterlist to join it!

taglist: @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @onewoneman @preciouschimine @missseoulite @moon-write @marianeamine @somewhereinthestarss @chubsjmin @daydreamerwestwood @010op10 @4evahevah @mawwnsterr @hikka-light @biasnation

103 notes · View notes

yixxes · 4 years

Text

infidelity | p.p.

Warnings: some curse words, cheating

Word Count: 2462

Emotional pain was long lasting. Heartbreaking.

“How could you do this to him!?”

“You’ll never understand! I can’t be with someone that I’m not in love with!”

Love grows where trust is laid, and love dies where trust is betrayed, or so Tigress Luv says.

“So you sneak around on him!?”

“That’s enough!”

“I don’t even wanna see your face right now, you’re disgusting!”

Adam and Danielle. The beloved couple that all of your family adored. Not a single person disapproved of him ever since the day that your sister had introduced him. There was nothing even remotely unlikable about him. He got along great with everybody, he was always including everyone in the conversation and the activities. Adam was a family man and he fit in perfectly with yours.

Just last month, they celebrated their first year of marriage. Congratulations to the happy couple. Give me a break, you thought to yourself.

Your parents and your oldest siblings fought hard to keep the situation under wraps, but your oldest brother ended up telling you about it on the down-low. Danielle had been sneaking around on Adam. Said she might have real feelings for the guy. Naturally, you were stunned by the news. You really looked up to both of them and their relationship as a whole. They seemed so perfect together. So deep in their own sweet love. There wasn’t a single person that thought that they wouldn’t be together forever - yourself included.

You were extremely disappointed in your sister to say the least, and the longer that you thought about it, the more the disappointment started turning into anger. She was always the pride and joy of the siblings. Carefully honest, Dean’s List smart. She was the kindest one, which was a quality that you’d long began to second guess.

You shamed her good when she stopped by a couple of nights after you heard the news. She came to talk to your mother, probably about what was going on, but you intercepted her as soon as she walked in. You met her in the living room before she could make it to the kitchen where your mom was. She didn’t stand a chance. You laid into her without letting up even a little bit before your mother intervened and sent you up to your room.

You were seething up there. You locked your door, drew the curtains and set your phone to airplane mode before picking the first playlist you tapped. Your headphones were in and you faceplanted on your bed with your music on full blast. You didn’t care to hear anything that they had to say. Adam didn’t deserve this.

“Hey!”

You stopped completely instead of letting him fall into step with you. Even in your own wrecked state, you didn’t fail to notice his. For a second or two, your heart stopped. After the night you just had, you really couldn’t bear having him upset, too.

“Hey, what’s...” Your mind raced ahead and you made quick work of momentarily pushing everything else aside to figure out what was wrong. You could physically feel your face paling as the realization hit you. “Oh no, our date, P, I’m... I’m really sorry about that, I-”

“I called you like twice this morning,” more like five. “I had to run around school all morning looking for you!”

It was a fairly sized school. That couldn’t have been fun. “I left my phone at home, I was kind of in a rush.” The full story? You fell asleep crying and forgot to put your phone on the charger before you passed out. You got a late start to the day and ended up showing up to school with barely presentable hair, a hoodie and sweats, and sans your favorite piece of technology. It crossed your mind that you may have looked exactly how you felt, but you were far too miserable to be embarrassed.

“Why didn’t you open your window for me?” His mind was all over the place right now and he had so many questions. “I knocked, a-and then I called a couple of times, didn’t you get those?”

Your expression was rather blank as you watched him make his way towards some kind of self implosion before having a look around you. The students walked around you, smiling and laughing alongside one another. Their worlds were still spinning just the same as it had been. Why did yours have to feel so still? Everything seemed to proceed in slow motion. If you tried to explain to Peter all that had happened in the past 24 hours, there would be a lot more to look at than your poorly assembled outfit. A sigh blew passed your lips and your shoulders fell.

“I’m sorry, I just... really can’t do this right now.” It was a loaded statement, and you could’ve kicked yourself for saying something so suggestive, but you really didn’t want to dish out all of your problems and start to blubber like a child in front of so many sets of eyes. You didn’t wanna hurt his feelings, but you needed to concentrate on hiding your own. To focus on not crying at least until you could get back to your room at the end of the day. You dragged your feet passed him and started towards class.

Peter caught your wrist gently and quickly jogged back around so he was facing you again. “Wait!” He swallowed hard beneath your distant stare, releasing you of his hold because he was painfully unsure if it was welcome or not. “Can we just do a.. rain check? Tonight, we can get something to eat at that Italian place you’ve been wanting to try, it’ll be-”

“Okay.” you said quietly, unknowingly restoring a piece of his heart. He was apprehensively unaware of what was going on with you, but he was hoping with everything in him that he could use this date to turn things back to normal.

“Okay?” He breathed carefully. His excitement was hard to hide and you almost smiled at the way that smile bloomed so easily on his face. Happiness always looked so good on him. You nodded and his smile grew. “Okay, I’ll see you at six.”

You looked better than you did earlier, but it didn’t do a great deal for your mood. Really, you would’ve liked to be alone to let your feelings out a little more, but being inside of that house was proving to be most hazardous to your health. Your mom kept trying to talk to you about everything. Kept trying to get you to understand, but you wouldn’t hear it. You’d choose going out with Peter over listening to your mom speak nonsense any day.

The car ride was quiet for the most part. It always felt weird sitting in the passenger seat of your own car, but you were glad that Peter offered to drive. You were aware of how far away your mind was when you handed him the keys. Driving wasn’t a good idea for you at the moment.

It just didn’t make sense to you. How could someone put on a show that convincing? How could you smile at someone and return an ‘I love you’ knowing it wasn’t real? What compelled people to fake their feelings like that and what inside of their brain told them that that kind of prolonged dishonesty was acceptable? She slept in the same bed with him, she discussed having children with him, she kissed him and held his hand... wait a second...

You looked down at your empty hands that rested in your lap and an uncomfortable feeling started eating at you. Peter had driven your car with you in it several times. Every time he did, he always kept hold on your left hand for most of the car ride. You weren’t far away from the restaurant and he hadn’t touched you once. He called you beautiful upon arrival and kissed your cheek, but that was it. Why wasn’t he holding your hand?

By the time you two pulled up, your mind had kicked things into overdrive and your self induced panic was threatening to swallow you whole. He pulled the key out of the ignition and went to open the door before he realized that you hadn’t even taken your seat belt off yet. His hopeful smile started to fade and his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you stared straight ahead at the side of the building. You were quiet as a mouse on the outside, but your insides were raging. You couldn’t slow your thoughts down despite how hard you were trying. Your throat felt painfully narrow and your eyes stung as they filled with tears. What set you apart from Adam? What made your relationship any different from theirs? Adam wasn’t lucky enough to get any kind of signs or tells from your sister, but what if Peter was trying to give them to you? Why didn’t he hold your hand the entire ride here, why did he bring you here tonight? To provide a nice meal before he ended things? To break things off in the classiest way that he knew how because he was a gentleman like that?

“Hey,” he turned in the driver’s seat and debated on whether or not he should reach out and touch you. Your hand, your knee, your shoulder.. he didn’t know how to approach you with the way that you’d been acting. He didn’t know how to make it better and that was killing him. “please, hey, tell me what’s-”

“Are you falling out of love with me?” You asked pitifully.

His heart dropped and his face fell. He immediately got to thinking about all that he had said and done in the past couple of weeks. He thought hard but there wasn’t anything that could’ve prompted such a horrific question. The thought was laughable to him, laughable yet terrifying still. Were you asking because you were the one falling out of love?

“What?”

You sucked in a breath of air and turned your head, letting out a shaky breath. Tears were falling faster than you could help and you doubled over, bringing your hands up to your face. This was so untimely. So unfortunate. You were grieving for Adam and now you were gonna have to grieve for the both of you.

“No, baby, no, I just, I-I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, I don’t know what to-”

“Why are we here, Peter!?”

He looked ahead at the side of the building and then back at you. “What do you mean? I asked you to come with me so we’re here. We’re on a date, I thought you wanted this.”

“So we’re here because it’s what I want?” You picked your head up and eyed him with an annoyed scowl, refusing to meet his eyes directly, but scowling at him nonetheless. “What do you want Peter, what do you want from me?”

“What are you talking about?” His confusion was fueling his worry. The two of them together was enough to make his head spin. The conversation was clearly getting out of control and he needed to get a hold of it before you did something rash. “Y/n, where is all of this coming from?”

You were exasperated. “Adam and Danielle broke up,”

It was horrible to hear, sure, he’d met them plenty of times and he knew how much you cared about their relationship, but what did that have to do with you two? Why were you mad at him for it? “Okay-”

“Dani cheated on him,” you continued with a sniffle. “she thinks she has feelings for some other guy, she... she said she doesn’t love him anymore.” Saying it out loud to Peter physically pained you. No matter what else crossed your mind throughout the past couple of days, one single thought remained front and center day in and day out: Adam didn’t deserve the anguish that he was going through.

Peter was sure he knew where this was going, but he let you piece it together a little more without any interruption on his part. “They love each other so much and they just got married, there’s no way that they don’t belong together. I saw firsthand how happy they made each other. P,” for the first time that night, you looked him dead in the eyes. You let your guard down and allowed him to see everything. Every single bit of emotion that your face and your eyes allowed. “and if it’s that easy for them to fall apart, what does that mean for everyone else?” And even more terrifying, what you actually meant, “What does that mean for us?”

Peter was shaking his head before you even finished, rejecting the idea before it was fully presented. For the first time since you started acting differently, he wasn’t afraid to reach out and touch you. He secured a gentle yet firm hold on either sides of your face and made sure he had all of your attention. “It doesn’t mean anything for us. That’s their relationship, that’s not you and me. I understand how much their breakup is hurting you, and you can hurt as much as you need to, but don’t lose faith in me,”

You nearly sobbed when you saw a tear roll down his cheek. His voice was starting to lose its steadiness and you were to blame. Your idiotic assumptions had brought him down to his knees. How could you ever even begin to think that you two had the same fate?

“Don’t give up on me, okay?” Your vision blurred and refocused as your tears filled and fell. “I told you I wasn’t gonna hurt you, and I meant that. I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you, and I’m as far away from falling out of love with you as I could possibly get.” He chased your tears away with his thumbs here and there and said, “ You’re everything to me. I love you. So much, okay?”

He let you cry for quite some time in the car, holding you, no questions asked and zero judgment. The situation wouldn’t get any better just because you sat and cried about it, but you felt better than you thought you thought you could after letting it all out. Your makeup was ruined, but you kept makeup wipes in your glove compartment, and you had an amazing boyfriend who was about to buy you pasta. Things weren’t the greatest with everything else, but they were still as kickass with Peter as they were before. And that was pretty great.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #avengers imagine #mcu #peter parker x you

88 notes · View notes

trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

suspect - iv

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 3k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

When the police questioned you after your Mother’s death you just couldn’t remember. You were their only witness. And you couldn’t remember.

You’d been in your pajamas, eating cereal and watching cartoons. It was the middle of the day when your Mom answered the door. A man followed her in the house. You could hear them in the hallway. And then loud noises. You remember hearing your Mom scream. And then nothing. It was quiet.

And you were found days later with your Mom’s rotting corpse in the next room.

You shake it from your head.

“It’s not uncommon for you to blackout parts of your memory that are harmful,” Bucky sighs, “Especially as a child.” You traced the words in your notebook. It made you feel useless. Like you could have put the guy away maybe. The right guy. Because you know it’s not Fury. You know it entirely.

“I’ve been in therapy for years.” You explain, “Trying to uncover the memory, trying to work through it… it’s just gone.” He nods across from you, the plates empty, and check placed down between you. The exhaustion finally hits. And you’re tired.

“I should be getting the autopsy reports back in tomorrow.” He scrubs his face, “And then I’m sure I’ll have to report to Steve and get the go ahead to come to the group meeting.” With Rumlow, which gave you pause.

“You need to make sure he knows that these are all friends and family of murder victims.” Blunt and clear, Bucky looks at you from over his fingertips. “Rumlow… he can’t come into this group meeting and be an asshole to everyone.” A nod from him.

“I’ll have to talk to Steve about his behavior tonight too.” Crossing his arms and sitting back, “It was just unacceptable.” A nod as you both drift into silence. “Did you drive here?” You shake your head,

“I don’t live far.” As you both slip from the booth to walk outside.

“Let me drive you home.” He offers, tapping his fob, the headlights of his car flashing in front of you.

“It’s honestly like, two blocks.” You point with your hand in your pocket. He shrugs, tapping the fob again locking the car.

“We can walk then.” He was insistent and you honestly couldn’t blame him. You just didn’t want to make him feel inconvenienced about it. You knew this neighborhood, it was on the cusp of being in those bad parts of town, your apartment straddling the line. You could tell he was tired. Just in the way he walked beside you.

“You really didn’t have to.” You say, reaching the steps of your apartment building. You key in the code at the door and buzz in. He follows you inside.

“I do have to.” His voice raspy with fatigue, “It’s not safe out here, why do you even live here?” The cracked linoleum, the yellow fluorescent lights. You shrug, honestly you felt like maybe a nicer place wouldn’t feel right. You’d lived in places like this your entire life. Kicking your foot against the linoleum you look at him in the harsh light. The bags under his eyes.

“Convenient I guess.” He shrugs.

“Text me when you’re in your apartment,” Gesturing toward the elevator. “Let me know when you’re safe.” It warmed your heart a little bit, the concern. He smiles at you as the elevator doors shut, and keys tossed onto the kitchen counter, shoes kicked aside you collapse into your bed.

Thank you. You draft, I’ll see you tomorrow. Send.

See you then.

Bucky sighs, stepping from the apartment building and looking up the side, the various lit windows before trekking back to his car. Today was rough, but he had the feeling that tomorrow would be even worse.

The next day the precinct was buzzing with activity. A group at the front talking to a beat cop, arms crossed and somber. He met the eyes of one. A young man, eyes red and weepy, looking just as tired as Bucky felt. Walking back into the bullpen the normal workload seeming even heavier, everyone seemed to have three things to do and three more on the backburner. Rumlow in the back room was setting up a pin board with victim one and two. And a woman with short brown hair, arms crossed, sitting back on the conference table, watching him do it.

As he approached further, he could see the FBI badge on her hip. This must be her. The agent they’ve sent because they had to.

“Barnes.” Rumlow nods at him as he enters the room. “This is Agent Hill.” The woman stood from the desk, holding her hand out for him to shake.

“From the FBI.” She looks serious, like she has to be to survive in a world mostly ruled by men. Her handshake is firm. Bucky feels sorry that she had to put up with Rumlow without him as a buffer.

“Nice to meet you.” She gestures to the board Rumlow was still working on.

“Would you say this is accurate?” The two bodies photographed right below the pictures of both girls. Always that high school graduation picture, Cheryl’s one with her kids probably done at the mall. Bucky’s hand clenched around his coffee cup a little harder. Sighing, thinking briefly about how your Mom was once up on one of these boards.

It gave him a strange feeling he couldn’t quite cope with, so he tears his eyes away.

“Yeah,” A sip from his coffee cup, “That’s about right.” A long sigh. She nods,

“Have you talked to any of the girls on the street?” It pained Bucky to tell her yes,

“But they didn’t really want to talk to us.” Rumlow said as he pinned another picture up.

“They didn’t want to talk to you.” Bucky accused. Rumlow shot him a glare. Kind of like, how are you going to embarrass me like this? Something he’d for sure bring up later.

“Do we have any leads?” Agent Hill asked, exasperated, like she just walked into a giant mess. Bucky reasoned, she did. But then he remembered you, the diner last night.

“Yes.” He ignores the look from Rumlow. “An old police cruiser, one of the girls said she saw Cheryl get into a stripped old model police cruiser.” Agent Hill nods,

“Okay, so we will see which ones have gone to auction.” A shrug, “Go from there.”

Steve’s door was closed when Bucky approached it, a knock to enter. The ‘come in’ from behind the thick oak. Steve smiles at him sheepishly as Bucky opens the door, brushing the bagel crumbs off his shirt. Bucky notices how tired Steve looks, but not a hair out of place, the bags under his eyes show the fatigue.

“You doin’ alright?” Bucky asks, shutting the door and sinking down in the chair across from his friend. Steve sighs, running his hand through his hair. A bad habit he tried to keep himself from. Bucky watched him as he silently scolded himself for it and shook more sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gruff and unlike him usually, “Had a bit of an argument with Peg last night. She made me sleep on the couch.” Bucky barked a laugh, met with Steve’s glare.

“What did you do?” Steve rolled his eyes, “C’mon pal, I know you did something, Peg is a saint.” Steve gives him a tight smile,

“What do you want Buck?” A sigh, sinking further into the chair, Bucky looks around Steve’s office.

“Remember back in 2015 when you bought your Dad’s old cruiser?” Steve’s brow pulled together in confusion,

“Yeah, why?”

“Apparently our guy was driving one of them when he picked up Cheryl Hansen a few nights ago.” Steve sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat, thinking for a moment.

“An old police cruiser…” Shaking his head, “You’ll have to look through the old auction files,” A pause, “There were quite a few cars sent to auction.” On his fingers he counted, “I was gifted my Dad’s… I know Pierce took his old beat car, but so did a bunch of other higher ups.” A shrug, “A couple of the guys out there bought one for novelty, but I think about twenty went out for public auction.”

Bucky nods, “Okay, okay.” A tug on his lip, “We’re gonna pull the old files and see if we can start going around…” He looked across at his friend, “Is there any way you could get Rumlow assigned somewhere else?”

Steve laughed at that, “Already?” Sitting back in his chair, “I thought you would have at least stuck it out for the rest of the week.” Bucky rolled his eyes,

“The guy is a menace; I would get a girl to talk and here he would come and make some bullshit comment or stand too close.” A huff, “He’s holding me back.”

“He’s got more experience than you, Buck.” A half smirk, “And Pierce would have my head if I took him off, so I’m gonna have to say no. Anything else you want to ask?”

Bucky thought about you, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, “That reporter that was in here a couple days ago… no listen.” He holds his hand out as Steve sets his jaw. “I think she could really help.”

“Buck—”

“She runs this relief fund for families of the victims, and they meet up once a month,” Resting his hand on the desk, “One is happening today, just give me the okay to go out there and question some of the families.” Steve seemed to debate it for a moment before lacing his hands over his belly.

“Pierce said no reporters.” Firm.

“But it’s not to give her information, it’s to interview people familiar to the old case.” Steve debated it a moment more before shaking his head with a sigh.

“Fine, but no statements better show up in the paper tomorrow.” Bucky grinned at his friend, Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m serious Buck.”

“I know you are.” That grin of satisfaction not leaving his face. Steve laughed,

“Now get out of my office.”

…

Wanda seemed in brighter spirits today as she lay out the food. Pietro carrying in boxes with the foil dishes while you set up the chairs and tables. Softly music played in the background. Just something to fill the silence as Wanda unwrapped dishes of cookies and lit sterno under dishes served hot. She jokes with you and Pietro about some show she was watching last night. Something you couldn’t ever be bothered to watch yourself, but you humored her as she talked about the drama that had unfolded between two couples.

People start arriving staggered. The early ones help you finish setting up, the ones coming in later met with raucous greeting from old friends. A lot of them with kids of their own. A table set up with crafts to keep them busy while their parents mingle and chat. Spouses here to support. Friends and people struck by the cause.

While it was your favorite day of the month, it was also the most tiring. A non-stop stream of greetings and hugs, marveling at how some kids have grown, wondering aloud about activities for them for next month and seeing what they would like.

But the questions you received the most, the reason for your high anxiety about this whole day, was…

“Is he back?”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“What should we do?”

And you just didn’t have an answer. Not yet. Not today. Not so soon. Sophie didn’t show, but then again you didn’t expect her to. It was far too soon. And Christine’s family didn’t have much to do with her anyway.

You looked for him, Bucky. You found your head turning towards the door every time you heard someone come in or out. The disappointment clear in it being someone coming back in from a smoke break was alarming and you weren’t quite sure why you were feeling this way. A paper cup with your name written on in sharpie with lemonade in it held in hand you continued to make your rounds, unaware that he’d even arrived until he sought you out.

“Hey.” Breathy and it sent a pleasant chill down your spine. Rumlow standing in the doorway with a woman you didn’t recognize. Your eyes meet Bucky’s and you couldn’t help the smile.

“Hey.”

He was in plainclothes. Not the normal button down and tie he was usually wearing. But something soft. Something you could imagine sticking your nose into. Something you had to shake from your head almost immediately. Hands in his pockets he looks around.

“Good turn out.” You agree, trying to get over him in jeans and a t-shirt.

“We stay pretty consistent.” You smile, “Today has been a good day considering… So, what did the autopsy reports say?” You see Rumlow and the other woman break off into the crowd, no doubt to try to get any information. He sighs,

“Sexual assault…” Shaking his head, “But no DNA left… and the fingers are being taken while they’re still alive, both of them anyway.” A heavy sigh. “They found no ketamine in Christine’s system, but I’m thinking that maybe because it was his first kill he wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Yeah,” You take a sip of lemonade, “That’s probably it… what about the cars?”

“I’ve got the go ahead, we are having auction records pulled… we just need someone to talk now.” He looks around the room, “Someone has to know something.”

“You think maybe there’s another witness?” He shrugs,

“I mean it’s possible,” He licks his lips, “Do you think that girl you talked to would talk again?”

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, “She wasn’t really comfortable even talking to me.” You watch him nod, “Do you want something to drink?” You lift your cup, he gives you a soft smile,

“Whaddya got?”

Wanda was over by the snack table, organizing and reorganizing. Getting rid of trays as they empty. You wished she would interact more, socialize and talk to people without the buffer of the table in between but this is what made her comfortable.

“Wanda.” She smiles softly and looks at the man beside you. “This is Detective Barnes.” The cracks there, as her smile slowly shifts into a frown and then back.

“Nice to meet you,” Holding out his hand for her to shake, which she doesn’t take. He nervously wipes it on his jeans.

“You’re going to stop him.” She says, voice shaking, “Right?” You set your cup down and step onto the other side of the table, gently placing your arms on hers.

“Wanda,” Her eyes focused on him, “Come on honey,” You look at Bucky whose face has pulled into sorrow. “I think you need a break.” Your eyes scan the crowd for Pietro, finding him flirting unabashedly with the woman who had entered with Bucky and Rumlow, sighing heavily, you gently begin to lead Wanda from the room.

“I’ll do everything I can.” Bucky’s voice firm with resolve from behind you. You cast him a glance over your shoulder as you bring Wanda into the back room, his eyes meeting yours and giving you a firm nod.

Maybe things would be different this time after all.

…

Bucky felt a guilt gnaw in his chest and he really looked around this room for the first time.

When he’d first entered, he’d been so focused on finding you. A happiness blooming in his chest as he watched you laugh with someone. A smile on your face as a little girl seemed to be telling you some animated story, amusing enough to make you full belly laugh twice before he began to make his way over to you. The luck of it being the girl parting with her father in tow as he reached you.

The flush in your cheeks just about did him in.

These people were happy, sure. As he looked around the room, he could see the smiles and cheeriness of those who have found solace in one another over such a deep rooted trauma. But there was a sadness there too.

For a moment he was proud of what you’d accomplished with this. Bringing all of these people together over what must have been your own guilt about your Mother’s death. What good had come out of it.

He couldn’t imagine, thinking about it, if his own Ma had been murdered. Let alone the brutality in those women’s last moments. The horror of it. It dried his mouth. It made his stomach churn and gave him the sudden urge to step outside and dial.

She picked up on the second ring, like she always did.

“Hi Ma.” Soft into the phone, like he was a little boy and just needed her at this moment.

“Jaime, what’s wrong?” Because she would immediately know. She would always immediately have known. He sighs,

“This new case I’m workin’ on…” He starts, “Just a little rough, I just needed to hear your voice.” She hums from the end of the line.

“Are you okay?” He rests his back against the brick of the building, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, ripping at the dead skin there.

“I think I will be,” Scrubbing his face with his hand, “It’s just… someone’s lost their mother.” A swallow, “Just wanted to call and tell you that I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.” It warmed his chest but made him ache at the same time. You were how old when you lost your Mom?

You never got to do this. You could never call her when you were feeling upset. You could never just pop in to go see her and she would never make your favorite food just to cheer you up.

Something sat raw and acidic in Bucky’s gut, something he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake until this guy was behind bars.

“Come see me when you can, okay?” His Ma’s voice, sweet and comforting. He closes his eyes, resting his head against the brick and fights back the tears of grief he feels for you.

“Okay.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #detective!bucky #detective!bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

87 notes · View notes

refriedweeb · 4 years

Text

YOU CAN PUSH TO START (BAKUGO + URARAKA)

A/N: refriedweeb here again. not much to say but to those of you who just followed me you’re all awesome and if you get followed back by @pomegranatedaydreams that’s my main blog! it took me a while to find the voices of these two since I’m used to writing with characters x readers HAPPY KACCHAKO WEEK

Prompt: After the UA Sport’s Festival and the student interns, Bakugo and Ochako are sparring once more. Only this time, Ochako has some experience under her belt and only confirms Bakugo’s thoughts that she’s far from fragile

tags: tension, angst, sparring, fighting

word count: 3,374

It’s been a couple of months since the UA Sport’s Festival and since class 1-A had gotten to go on their Hero Agency internships. It’s safe to say that there’s been a rejuvenated sense of purpose in the young heroes of 1-A, and it’s showing in their efforts to get back to training and learning the most they can out of their time at UA. One person this has certainly affected visibly is Ochako Uraraka, who has returned from her internships a seemingly different person. She carries herself differently, more confidently. Her internship with Gunhead has seemingly lit a new fire in her, and she’s ready to go. After the Sport’s Festival where she’d taken on Katsuki Bakugo and been defeated after what she thought was a false representation of what she could really do, she wants to prove herself as worthy of being in the hero course more than ever.

Someone who has definitely been paying attention to that is none other than the resident hothead himself, Katsuki Bakugo. He knew back then after she kept coming at him with everything she had at the UA Sport’s Festival, that Ochako was far from weak. Inexperienced and perhaps not as aggressive of a quirk as his was, but by no means weak. He’s stood by his comment from the festival when his classmates had given him slack for going at her with all he had. What part of her was frail?

That particular fight hadn’t been a victory that Bakugo had been proud of winning. The look on Ochako’s face when she’d fallen to the ground, beaten so badly that she hadn't been able to get back hadn’t felt right to him. Normally one to celebrate his opponent’s defeat, he’d been left speechless when Midnight had declared him the winner. There was no celebrating in that victory, and though it had been months ago, it still didn’t make him feel good. It’d been hard to look at pink cheeks for the following weeks, not quite sure if he should say sorry. Bakugo felt that he was one of the few people that understood what it was that Ochako’s quirk was, and how dangerous it could be. Taking away something’s gravity? If she’d gotten a hand on him at the sport’s festival he might have very well had no choice but to surrender in the fight. And there was no way in hell he was getting beaten in the first round. He had to be the best, he had to go all out, and there was nothing that suggested that Ochako wouldn’t have been able to hold out on him. Frankly, she’d done better than he thought she would. Tch. And somehow he was the bad guy for fighting back instead of just letting her get a hit on him.

And while cheeks had a great Hero Internship, Bakugo was hard pressed to call his internship with Best Jeanist that. His hair was still falling in a weird way compared to what it usually did with all that combing and gel that it’d been put through. He hadn’t even got to see any damn action! It’d been about manners, about how to make him a more approachable hero. Meanwhile everyone else had an exciting internship, even froggy! It was bullshit and Bakugo was still pretty bitter over it, which was why he was headed to the gym on school grounds. There was some aggression that he wanted to work out, and he had a feeling that the gym would be empty. And if it wasn’t, then it wouldn’t take a whole lot of attitude on his end to get them to fuck off to somewhere far away from him.

With his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, that was where Bakugo headed. He still couldn’t believe the shit hand he’d gotten with his internship, and kicked a spare can just as he pushed into the gym. Only to find that he wasn’t alone. Katsuki blinked in surprise to see none other than Ochako in there, working at a punching bag with effort and determination. He stood there, mouth hanging open.

“Pink cheeks?”

Ochako jumped, clapping her hands over her mouth as she whirled around, sweat dripping down her forehead. A physical marker of just how hard she’d been working before Bakugo had come and interrupted her one on one session. But to see him standing there, watching her like she was doing something weird only sparked a little fear in her heart. Ochako slapped her hands down against her thighs, and then stilled the swinging punching bag behind her, eyes dancing frantically as she tried to come up with some idea as to why she was in the gym rather than the very obvious reason that she was in the gym.

“Oh, hey, uh, Bakugo!” she chirped, doing her best to give a smile that didn’t look half as nervous as she felt. He saw right through it. Bakugo exhaled through his nose as she continued on. “I didn’t know you’d be here, or anything, I was just...training on my own! Practicing some of the moves that Gunhead taught me during the-”

He cut you off. “Yeah, tch, we all know how special your internship was.” Ochako’s blush deepened and she leaned back on her hip.

“Sorry...” she looked down at her feet, swallowing the knot of nerves in her throat. She’d picked Gunhead as her internship option because he could teach her things that she didn’t know, he could help her get stronger so that she’d be able to keep pace with the rest of the top students in her class. The last thing Uraraka wanted to be looked at as was one of the students who didn’t belong in 1-A because they weren’t that great of a hero. She needed to be able to support her family, to help them out in the way of finances. Ochako couldn’t fail at this, and she refused to give up. It’d been why she pushed herself so hard against her and Bakugo’s fight back at the Sport’s Festival. She was tired of people looking at her like she needed saving...or that she was weak. “I can go...if you want, I didn’t mean to...” Ochako paused, giving a weak chuckle as she ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll just go.”

Bakugo watched as she bent down to pick up the water bottle she’d brought with her, the sweat towel. And the look of what he was well aware was the emotion of fear. Was she scared of him? Because of what had happened at the sport’s festival? He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Don’t. Gunhead taught you some cool tricks, sure. But that doesn’t mean you’re any better of a hero than you were before.”

Ochako snapped up at him, her brows defined and making the angry expression on her round face look...cute. He blinked at the thought, shaking it out of his head because it had no reason being there, at least not one that he was willing to acknowledge. Hell, he had respect for her because she kept getting back up when he kept beating her down but...it didn’t go outside of that, did it?

“You know Bakugo, you don’t have to be so mean all the time to people who have never done anything to you in your life. You should try making some friends outside of Kirishima.” The blush on her cheeks had deepened as she stood up for herself, but Ochako was tired of being looked down, seen as weak by her classmates. Especially Bakugo.

“Then spar with me.”

The statement was so simple, so quiet that Uraraka wasn’t even sure she’d heard him right. “What?”

“Spar with me, round cheeks.”

She blinked, looking at him for a period of time without saying anything. It was likely that Bakugo was just going to beat her all over again and she’d feel worse about his statement turning out true, that she hadn’t grown during her internship. But Uraraka knew that wasn’t true. She just knew. She opened and closed her mouth several times, internally debating on what to do while Bakugo just stood there, scowling at her as he grew more and more impatient.

“Fine,” Katsuki’s eyebrows lifted, a little surprised that she’d even said yes. But when the burgundy eyes met that of Uraraka’s honey (why was he thinking of her eyes like honey?) he found there was nothing but determination there. She really wanted to do this. “We’ll do it in the open gym so we don’t ruin any of the equipment here.”

Which was perfectly fine with him. The two of them made their way across the training grounds, finding that open gym empty. Good. Despite Ochako’s nerves, she was excited. This was a chance for her to prove to not only Bakugo, but most importantly herself, how far she’d come. When she compared herself against her teammates, Momo, Todoroki, Deku, and Bakugo, she felt that she was falling behind. That she wouldn’t be able to keep up with their growth. This was her chance to build her confidence.

The two came to stand across from one another, Ochako letting out a deep breath. Bakugo was watching her, waiting. “So we are allowed to use our quirks, or what? You need a handicap?” She shook her head, that same fixed look of determination coming back into her expression and causing Bakugo to swallow against the tightness in his throat. It was a look different from the festival, and he had to admit...he kind of liked it.

A moment of pause came as they both settled into fighting stances, Bakugo knowing he had to steer clear of her hands unless he wanted to meet the ceiling. Ochako needed to be smarter than the last time they’d fought, using Bakugo’s weakness to her advantage. She moved first, running at him full speed. A grin stretched over Bakugo’s features, opening up his palms as they started to glisten with the same sweat that allowed him to make explosions. “You’re starting with the same opening moves from the festival? You really haven’t changed!”

He fired off an explosion, his free hand supporting his firing hand. The smoke was heavy, and he was sure he’d gotten the first hit in their spar. Tch. Just like the festival. If this was still the best that she had... “Huh?” Bakugo’s eyes jumped forward and there she was, Ochako holding her breath and turning pinker in the face as she floated above him. Same approach...different tactic. His eyes widened as she dropped closer to him, holding a palm out towards his head. One touch and he’d be gravity free. “Like hell!” he yelled, reaching up to aim at her again, Uraraka bringing her hands together to release her from her float. Bakugo’s eyes widened as she came down towards him, and he fired off another round. It hit her, sending Uraraka bouncing to the side. Bakugo turned his attention to her again, frowning as she came to rest on her elbows, letting out a small moan of pain.

And then...

Something came down on his head, hard. He swore, rubbing his head as he turned around to look at what it was. A shoe... Ochako’s shoe... Already too late, Katsuki whipped around to see her within inches of him, hand outstretched again. He grimaced, noting that she was indeed only wearing one shoe. Not wanting to fire on her at such close range, Bakugo swung a fist, grazing Ochako’s cheeks as she dropped down, swiping his legs out from underneath him. When had she gotten so fast? This was from just her internship? Just another affirmation that Bakugo had picked the wrong hero to intern with...

His back hit the ground hard, and Ochako was lunging at him. If she could get him in the air, she’d definitely have an advantage. At least she felt like she would. Her moves were confident, more sure of herself as she moved after Bakugo, aiming to hit him in the chest to get him to float. Her jaw was set in a determined line, only for Bakugo to defend himself again. A blast caught her in the stomach, sending her flying backwards against the concrete ground. She was pretty sure that it singed her hair too. She winced, noting at how hard that one hurt. Good. She didn’t want Bakugo to hold back. She didn’t want to be seen as weak. “Stop holding back!” She called, holding her side as she got back to her feet. Though this time, she didn’t wobble when she took a step forward. She didn’t crumble to the ground, defeated. “I’m not weak!”

Katsuki’s eyes widened as the imagery of the sport’s festival and what he was seeing in front of him merged together. He smirked, chuckled, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he got back up too. “I never thought you were, cheeks.”

Bakugo came at her, palms open and ready to send her head flying off. Ochako leaned into her defensive stance, fists raised in front of her. Bakugo was someone who could fight close range and from far away, whereas Ochako’s strength had been support and long distance. But now..after her internship...she smiled, it hidden behind her fists as Bakugo charged at her. She wouldn’t give in that easily! She had people to make proud! A blast of smoke set off, Bakugo lifted into the air by his own quirk seconds later. If that was how he wanted to do it...

She waited until he was closer to her, Ochako jumping into the air as well. She saw the surprise on his face as he set another explosive fist off behind him, bringing him to her faster. Ochako held her breath, floating into the air at a much slower pace. Bakugo yelled, Ochako unable to do the same unless she wanted to throw her whole plan off. She balled herself up as she floated closer to the hurtling projectile that was Katsuki Bakugo, closing her eyes as she felt the heat of the explosion drawing closer on her skin. She was moving suddenly, shot to the sky as they came within inches of each other. All she needed...

Her hand stretched out, not aiming for Bakugo’s chest as she had been earlier. He was shooting to the side to come at her from the left, which was all Ochako needed to get...his shoe. She wrapped her fingers around it, eyes widening. She did it. Yes!

“Hey!” Bakugo shouted, his momentum changed as he started to wobble around in the air, not able to do much about controlling his direction. He couldn’t believe it. She’d tagged him. The feeling of being weightless wasn't one that he could say that he liked, unable to do much but just bob around. Uraraka on the other hand, “Tch!” he exclaimed as she who had much more control over her body in zero-gravity, came towards him. Her cheeks were bright pink now, and her hand was in a fist.

At that point it became a game of explosive keep away. There was only so much Bakugo could do, each explosion he set off to keep Ochako away from him only sent him closer to the ceiling. Damn it. His hands were coated in sweat, his breathing labored. No matter how much he pushed at the space between them, in zero gravity Ochako was faster. He could see that look of triumph in her eyes, and it almost made him smile to see how proud of herself she was. Almost, because he was still pissed that he was at the disadvantage now. She was coming towards him again, cheeks starting to turn purple, and he held out his hand to fire off at her again. It hit her, sending Uraraka rolling away from her. A little bit of blood dribbling from her nose when she turned upright again. But that look was still there in her eyes, the look of wanting to win. Well then...

Ochako watched as Bakugo tried to right himself, tried to fight the lack of gravity around him to keep fighting. She had him, she was so sure. She just needed to do one thing. Uraraka floated higher up against Bakugo, leaving space between them. And then...she pressed her fingers together, releasing Bakugo from the anti-gravity spell she’d had him in. Red eyes widened as the force of gravity came racing back to him, sending him plummeting. Only to follow it with... “Yes!” she cried, dropping her own anti-gravity force as she went falling after him.

Bakugo tried to buffer his plummet with his explosions, which only did so much. He still hit the ground hard, letting out a grunt of pain as he bounced back up before settling on the ground. There wasn’t much time for him to react to see where he was hurting the most, however, because Ochako was coming right at him with feet pointed. Was she going to step on him? Bakugo sat up, aiming an open palmed blast at her again. It fired off, smoke pluming around his hand and the space between them. But her feet came first, showing no sign of giving up.

Plan B.

Katsuki reached out, grabbing at Ochako’s feet and yanking them to the side. In the blink of an eye he had her pinned underneath him, the closeness of their bodies causing him to clench his jaw. He was, after all, an angsty teenager who had never had a girlfriend before and had a set bed time of 8:30. To say he was really popular with the ladies was an understatement. But being that close to Ochako to see the different shades of yellow and brown in her eyes...it tugged at something in his chest. With the same open palm above his head and aimed towards her face, Bakugo smirked. “Nice try, cheeks.”

And then the world was moving and it was he that was pinned under her. Her legs were pressed down against either of his arms, closing off his ability to blast his way out of her grip. Ochako’s palm was pressed down on his chest, her breathing labored, the red coming from her nose a little darker with fresh blood. Hair a mess from the explosions that had buffeted her and injured her. She looked almost feral, beyond the definition of determined to win. “I think...” she breathed, smiling in victory. “You mean nice try, Bakugo.”

A blush - a blush - broke out over his face. There were ways that he could get out of this, and they’d run rampant through his head. This wasn’t a loss for Bakugo by far, because he hadn’t been out of options to victory. But seeing that look on Ochako’s face, how happy she looked. “Tch,” he sneered, rolling his eyes. “So you leaned a few fancy tricks with Gunhead, so what?” But on the inside he was in awe at how far she’d come from the sport’s festival. That same determination she’d had to give it her all only amplified since then. It was something that...Bakugo had come to respect anymore. The look of happiness on her face, in her sparkling eyes, it made him feel something. “Now get off of me, Pink Cheeks.”

Ochako was more than happy to, even extending a hand to help him up from the ground. A hand that he took. “We should spar more often, Bakugo! That was fun!” Ochako wiped away the blood from her nose with the back of her hand, smiling at him widely.

He hung back a couple paces as they walked back, eyes on the back of her head. Amazed. Confused, at his own feelings. Mesmerized by the newfound confidence that Cheeks had. Bakugo took a deep breath in, feeling a rush of something that wasn't adrenaline and wasn’t from the fight that had just happened. The blush crept back his neck and onto his cheeks, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. Nothing. He wasn’t feeling anything.

It wasn’t a lie he believed for one second.

37 notes · View notes

tricksters-captain · 4 years

Text

FP Jones/Andrew’s Family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 32

A/N: The drama is only beginning....

MASTERLIST LINK (HERE)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s older sister and you have a thing for a certain Serpent.

This chapter: Based on season 2 episode 20: Tensions are high when the Northside suspect Fang murdered Midge after hiding their relationship. You are torn as the Northside wants blood, Fangs blood, but the Black Hood’s note pinned to the door of your house threatens your father’s life. And with the rest, Hiram Lodge has a plan up his sleeve to turn Riverdale into a riot zone.

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 7,436

Warnings: Violence, Strong Language.

You heard your phone ring from the kitchen.

“Archie?” You asked, relieved at his caller ID.

“(Y/n), where are you? What’s wrong?” Archie must’ve heard the upset in your voice.

“Where have you been?” You asked, he was the one who had disappeared all day.

“It’s a long story.” Archie admitted. “I’m coming to Sunnyside now.”

“Hurry.” You ended the call with a whisper and prayed Archie would be quick.

It wasn’t long before Archie arrived at your new front door.

“(Y/n).” Archie pulled you in for a brief hug when you opened the door.

You noticed the already bruising and bloody marks on his face immediately.

“What the hell happened?” You reached up and touched your baby brothers cheek. He moved away from your touch, taking hold of your wrist and gently bringing it away from him.

“It’s a long story like I said.” Archie sighed, “Why aren’t you at Jugheads?”

“I don’t know.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as Archie entered the trailer, closing the door behind him. “Maybe I felt it safer for both me and FP to be away from each other right now.” You lied. Archie could tell something was wrong but he didn’t press the matter.

“Now will you tell me where the hell you’ve been all day and why the hell your face looks like you’ve been attack by mob bosses?” You dragged Archie over to the lumpy looking couch that occupied the majority of the empty trailer.

“You’re not far off.” Archie half heartedly chuckled as he sat down beside you.

He continued to fill you in on why he disappeared and what the scumbag called Nick St.Claire tried to pull yet failed.

“I swear Archie, all your problems end up routing back to the Lodge family.” Your blood was boiling as Hiiram’s smug face came to mind. Archie tried arguing with you but you knew the Lodge’s had their hooks in Archie... there hooks in you.

“Thanks for coming, Archie.” You guided Archie to the door now that you had a sudden urge to just be alone.

“Dad’s worried about you.” Archie felt the need to drop in just before you could push him from your trailer.

“I know.” You sighed. “I’m okay though. I’m a big girl, Archie.” You tried to sound convincing but how was anyone okay with the Black Hood on the loose again.

Archie looked down at you and pursed his lips. You didn’t look like a ‘big girl’, you looked nervous, exhausted and worried. You looked how you did when you were 14 and sneaking out the house, scared your mom was going to catch you.

“Dad’s debate is soon. Will we see you there?” Archie asked, his eyes pleading more than asking.

“Sure, Arch. I’ll see you there.” You forced a smile onto your face as you bid your younger sibling goodnight before locking yourself in your trailer.

You made your way into the bedroom and curled up on the small old mattress, the bedding Jughead had brought you smelt of FP and their trailer. It made you ache.

You didn’t know what you were doing anymore.

For Hiram Lodge, everything seemed to be falling into place. With you away from your father and living on the Southside as a Serpent, those family values that Fred held his campaign on were slowly withering away.

“You and Fred are neck-and-neck, and with the town divided over our prison, this debate is ––”

–Is the single most important event of the election. I know. I know, basta.” Hermione finished Hiram’s sentence as he went on about the debate again.

“We already control the Sheriff's office, and The Register, but we need the Mayor's office as well, so the prison can't be blocked.” Hiram rose to stand beside his wife.

I'm hoping Archie's Dark Circle will cause unrest, (Y/n)’s hibernating on the Southside as a Serpent. If Fred can't control his own children, he certainly can't control a town on the verge of sliding into chaos.” Hiram held a hidden smirk beneath his lips as he thought about how easy this win seemed. And even if you decided to return to your father, to the Northside, Hiram still had those pictures to ruin not only you but Fred and FP Jones. The news that Fred’s childhood best friend was screwing his daughter behind his back would bring Fred back from running for mayor any longer, severely ruining his campaign and relationship with both his daughter and best friend.

If only Hermione knew what else he had up his sleeve. But he knew this one must remain under his sleeve until it needed to be leaked.

A week went by and all you seemed to do was go to school, go to the trailer and avoid FP.

You hadn’t even visited the Wrym recently. The only contact you had with the Serpents apart from the odd text was your meetings at school.

“Hey, you okay? Haven’t seen you around lately.” Toni grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze as you entered the classroom.

“Yeah, just feeling a little run down. Been trying to lay low.” You tried your best to sound genuine as you sat down but before Toni could respond Jughead called the meeting to session.

“War Baby called my father and I from Shankshaw. Our old adversaries, the Ghoulies, had been released. Word on the street is that they want Serpent blood. They're gunning for a re-match. They want war.” Jughead’s announcement was shortly interrupted by the door swinging open and a rather pissed off looking Reggie walking in. His gaggle of bulldogs behind him, including your brother.

“Which one of you reptiles was screwing Midge Klump?!” Reggie stared down the boys.

You and Toni shared a look, this wasn’t going to be good.

“What the hell is going on?”Jughead pushed himself off the desk and faced Reggie. “This is a private meeting.”

“I'm guessing it was you, Sweet Pea.” Reggie ignored Jughead head as he thrusted his index finger towards Sweet Pea causing him to step forward.

That’s when you realised you couldn’t be playing the pity case right now. You hopped on your feet as Sweet Pea retaliated.

“You ass. I didn’t even know Midge but, yeah, I get why she wouldn’t want fleas from your mangy bulldogs.” Sweet Pea glowered down at the boy, sparking a fight.

You lurched forward and dove under Sweet Pea’s arm, shoving him hard in the chest backwards with your hands as Archie tried to grab Reggie.

“Calm down!” You snapped as Sweet Pea tried to fight against you to get to Reggie.

“Serpents back off now!” Jughead bellowed, cutting all violence to an end.

You kept your hands on Sweet Peas chest as you peered over your shoulder to meet Archie’s eyes.

“Look, all we know is that Midge was cheating on Moose with a Serpent. It could help with her murder.” Archie tried to clear the air but in the way he said it just made him sound like he was accusing one of the Serpents of murder.

“Well, we don’t know anything about it.” Jughead told Archie. Archie must've believed him because he managed to get his bulldogs to leave the classroom. For now.

Once the boys had left, Sweet Pea pushed your hands away and slumped down on the desk behind him.

“Is it true?” Jughead faced everyone, searching mostly the guys faces.

Everyone remained silent.

Jug ran hand over his face, much like FP has done before, and then told the Serpents that if anyone knew anything that it’s best they come to him sooner than later.

But no one came forward that day.

The next morning, Jughead had called you to tell you that Fangs came over and confessed to sleeping with Midge.

“So, what do we do now?” You asked Jughead over the phone.

“We see if I can get the footage from my camera back and if not... if not we need to make sure Fang has one hell of a good reason for lying when the new sheriff comes by to talk to him about his statement.” You could hear Jughead rustling around his trailer as he spoke.

“Let me know either way.” You said before hanging up the phone. You didn’t want to stay on any longer in case you ended up hearing FP’s voice in the background.

You got to school later that morning to see the halls covered in black circle posters.

“Archie...” You whispered as you pulled down the poster from the wall.

“Hey (Y/n)!” Fang’s voice reached you from across the hallway. He was jogging up to you.

“What happened to laying low?” You commented on the attention he’d drawn to himself by calling your name.

“Huh, oh, sorry.” He apologised as he tugged his backpack up his shoulder. “It’s just Jughead said you’d be helping me out today. You know, keeping an eye in case any of those bulldogs catch wind.” Fangs seemed nervous as he eyes searched the hallway for jocks.

“Keep acting so nervous and they’ll know it’s you.” You tried to be light hearted but even you were scared for the boy. Reggie has a temper and with it, a mean right swing. “Come on, I’ll walk towards your next class with you.”

You knew you couldn’t be glued to him all day as it would cause suspicions but you did your best to make sure no one had found out it was him.

You checked your phone at the end of the day to see a text from Jug, telling you to meet him at Pops and so that’s where you went.

You tried to act unfazed with the fact that FP was there but in reality you had bigger problems to deal with right now than fighting with your feelings.

“Sheriff Minetta wouldn't give me back my footage. Says he wants to go through it frame by frame.” Jughead told you as you sat learnt against the counter top beside him. “It's only a matter of time before he puts two and two together and brings Fangs in.”

“Damn it. Of all the girls in Riverdale High.” FP scoffed,

“What do I do?” Jughead’s eyes looked between you and FP.

“If Fangs runs, he looks guilty. If he's caught withholding the truth, he'll look like the killer.” FP stated.

“It's a perfect storm. The Lodges endorsed this new Sheriff. They want Midge's killer caught.” You sighed. Your heart stopped when you caught FP’s eyes, you just hoped Jughead hadn’t noticed how quickly you looked away from his father. ““and if it's a Southsider...”

“So much the better.” Jughead finished your sentence, knowing what you were all were thinking.

“Then we hunker down.” FP learnt forward on the counter top as he lowered his voice. “Get ready to fight.”

You watched FP walk away to return to work and you shared a glance with Jughead.

“We better inform the troops.” You scooped up your car keys as you stood up straight.

“We need proof that Fang isn’t the killer. Or at least a reason he didn’t tell anyone about the affair.” Jughead pushed himself off his stool and followed you to the door.

“We need to think worse case scenario.” You corrected Jug. “What happens if he is taken to the station and we don’t have proof he didn’t do it. We need to get some money together for a lawyer, Jug.”

“Don’t worry about that. Mrs McCoy is a damn good attorney if we can get her.” Jughead opened the door to Pops and you both headed into the parking lot.

“We better make sure we can get her then.” You said as your phone burst into your ringtone. You lifted it to see it was Archie calling.

You answered to news that sent a chill through every bone in your body.

Fred had found a note pinned to the door of the house when he got home that evening. The note read ‘You’re next sinner!’

You hung up the phone and bolted to your car. Jughead called after you but your car tires were already screeching against the tarmac as you pulled out of Pop’s.

“Hey.” You hugged Archie tightly as he opened the front door. From all the cars outside you could see you weren’t the only one he called.

As soon as you saw your dad, you forgot about any anger or frustration that was there and it was replaced with relief only to be followed by severe anxiety.

“You okay?” You hugged Fred tightly to which he returned.

“I’m fine. It’s just a letter.” Fred tried to down play it but you could see the concern in his frown.

“It’s a threat.” You argued. It wasn’t just a letter and everyone in that room knew it. Your dad had a scar in his torso to remind him.

There was another knock at the door to which Hiram and Hermione Lodge were invited into the house.

You met Hiram’s eyes and felt your blood run cold yet your stomach bubbled with rage. You thought that’s what it must feel like to come face to face with the devil.

You stepped to the side with Archie as the couple were filled in on what’s happened.

The worst case scenario was it was a threat from the Black Hood, the best case scenario was that the note was some kids pulling a prank for scares.

“It's clear what has to be done. We cancel the debate. Prank or not, it's not a risk we can take.” Hiram spoke out on the matter as everyone gathered in the kitchen.

“I agree. Until the Black Hood's caught, we have to be careful.” Archie added.

“Can you beef up security at the Town Hall?” Fred turned to the new sheriff.

“Fred, honestly––”

“––Dad, you can't be serious.” You and Hiram spoke over each other. You stared at your father with wide eyes.

“We'll lock Town Hall down tighter than a steel drum.” Sheriff Minetta assured your father.

“The town is scared. They need to be shown we can't be cowed.” Fred argued his reasonings but you still had an awful feeling about it. If the Black Hood could pull a stunt like Midge’s death with that many people in the high school then he could definitely still cause havoc in the town hall.

“Well, if Fred's in, so are we.” Hermione sided with Fred after a short moment of hesitation.

You noticed Archie’s head shaking as he stood beside you. You moved back and leant your back against the sink as you folded your arms across your chest.

“You sure you’re not gonna stay?” Archie asked as you met at the bottom of the staircase.

“Dad will be safe. After that note deputies will be watching this house like a crack den.” You nodded in the direction of the kitchen where your dad was still conversing with Hiram and Hermione and their new sheriff.

“What about you?” Archie asked, the look on his face was heavy with concern.

“I’ll be fine. I got the Serpents and anyways I have things to do tonight. Me and Jughead...” You stopped yourself with a sigh. “Things just aren’t great on the other side of the tracks.”

“Just...” Archie looked down at his feet and back up to you. “Be careful. I don’t think Dad could forgive himself if something happened.”

“I don’t think you’re talking about just dad, Arch.” You lightly nudged his shoulder. “I promise I’ll be careful.” You turned and placed your hand on the door handle. “Night Archie.”

“Night.” Archie pursed his lips into a thin line as he dug his hands into his pockets. He knew nothing he could say would make you stay. It had to be your decision and if your decision was to head back to the Southside then he had to accept it.

You headed back to Sunnyside to find FP waiting outside your trailer still in his work uniform and Serpents jacket.

“Jughead came back inside and said you took off pretty quickly after a phone call.” FP walked towards you as you walked towards your front door.

“It was just Archie.” You told him as you unlocked your front door.

“What’s happened?” FP followed you inside, you knew there was no point even trying to stop him, you were not only physically tired but mentally exhausted.

“My dad got a note at the house. They think it might be from the Black Hood. It could be just some kids but with everything that’s happened...” You went over to the kitchen sink to get yourself a glass of water. “...I can’t help but feel something awful is about to happen.”

“Come on, you’re not staying here tonight. You’re coming back to the trailer with me.” The news of the Black Hood seem to send a protective spike through FP as he picked up the Serpent jacket you had tossed onto the couch when you entered.

You rose your eyebrows at his sudden change of demeanour.

The tension between you was still unbearable. He didn't know what he could do to make it alright again. To get you back.

“What’s the point?” You shrugged your shoulders slightly, “I don’t think I’ll even be able to sleep tonight no matter where I am.” You admitted, bringing your glass of water to your lips.

“What’s the point?” FP scoffed. “The point is that I’ll know you’re safe. You being here alone; I don’t like it.”

“I thought you were too busy with Alice Cooper to be worrying about me.” You accidentally let the green monster take control of your tongue as you turned your back on the older man to head to your bedroom. “I’m not your problem anymore, FP.”

“Don’t act like such a child, (Y/n).” FP chased after you. “You say you’re not my problem, well, last time I checked you are a Serpent and Serpents stick together. So, whether you’re angry with me or not, I’m not going to sit back and let you get hurt or worse.”

You faced the man with a hard look.

“If you’re so worried, post a watchman outside my door. I’m not leaving this trailer tonight.” You were stubborn, that was one thing that FP knew all too well.

“Fine.” FP didn’t want to push you any further, he didn’t want to have to deal with the temper tantrum that would come if he did. “Damn it, woman!” FP cussed as he left the trailer.

You fell back onto your bed after hearing your front door slam shut and you let out an audible growl of frustration.

You spent most the night awake; anyone could tell from the dark circle under your eyes the next morning. Your alarm woke you up for school so you must’ve eventually fell asleep at some point. FP had been running round your head all night as much as you didn’t want him to. But then again, it was better than thinking about how the Black Hood wants your dad dead.

The drama didn't seem to stop once you rocked up to school either.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Have you seen Jughead?!” Toni came rushing round the corner, almost crashing into you.

“No, I just walked through the doors.” You were taken back by her energy.

“He needs to see this.” Toni lifted her phone up to show you the video of Fang in Midge’s dressing room. “It’s Fang. Fang was the Serpent with Midge.”

“Shit.” You took your own phone out and tried to dial Fang’s number. “Find Jughead, I’ll get Fang the hell out of here.” You rushed forward into the crowd of students who all seemingly were receiving/watching the same video you were just shown. “Reggie will eat him alive.” You muttered to yourself.

You snatched Fang’s sleeve just as he ducked around a corner.

“Hey! Come on.” You yanked him towards you, he seemed to relax a little when he saw it was you who grabbed him and not one of the bulldogs. “We gotta get you out of here now––” You cut yourself short when you caught eye of Jughead. He rushed towards you with Toni.

“That video is everywhere, how’d it get out?” Fangs asked Jughead as you met him.

“You’re dead, Vixen Killer!” The raging ball of testosterone that was Reggie soon came storming down the stairs and right towards you and Fangs.

“Go!” You shoved Fangs in front of you, away from Reggie’s wrath.

“Fogarty! We need you to come with us.” Sheriff Minetta closed off the only way to escape the Bulldogs.

“I didn't do anything.” Fangs tried to back away but he was surrounded.

His eyes flickered towards you and from his look you knew he was about to do something stupid.

He sprinted towards the sheriff and his deputies trying to push through them but the struggle only made it worse.

Fangs was thrown against the wall as he fought being restrained but the clang of metal made everyone freeze.

“Shit.” You whispered only loud enough for Jughead to hear as he was beside you.

A switch blade had fallen out of Fang’s pocket.

He was fucked. A weapon on school property would definitely keep him a night in the station and make the suspicion of him only grow.

“We gotta get your dad.” You pulled Jughead back away from the drama as the sheriff guided Fangs outside.

Jughead called FP as you both made your way out to the parking lot.

“I’ll meet you at the station. See what I can find out.” You parted from him as he spoke to his father. You climbed into your car, slinging your bag onto the back seat.

You made your way to the station but none of the deputies would talk to you.

You weren’t a relative by blood or guardian. Minetta had his grip around the deputies tight and even the greasiest of them refused to even say one thing other than he was being questioned.

“Anything?” Jughead asked. He and FP walked into the station together and straight up to you.

“Nothing. That new Sheriff is holding a tight ship, I can’t any information out of anyone.” You admitted.

“You two head back to school. Make sure the rest of the Serpents are safe and aren’t stirring up any trouble with those Bulldogs. I’ll stay here and wait. See if I can find out anything.” FP tried to dismiss you as if he could do much more.

Jughead was quick to follow orders and head back outside, leaving you there.

“FP, It's fine. I just had study periods today anyway. I can stick around.” You tried to argue but FP wasn’t having any of it.

“Go back with Jughead. There’s nothing you can do for Fangs right now but there are still Serpents you can help out there.” FP gestured to the doors of the station.

“Fine.” You shook your head, “Call me if you get any news.”

“Hey (Y/n).” FP called after you. You reluctantly stopped and turned around to face the man. “Thank you.”

You nodded your head in response, it wasn’t everyday FP actually said thank you. Usually he showed it after you would help him but he rarely spoke the words.

You returned to school to see that Toni had been the one to hold back the Serpents. You informed everyone that it would probably be late this evening or tomorrow that’d you hear any news but that FP was staying there just in case.

“Jug, I think it’s time to call that lawyer now.” You told Jughead to contact McCoy before telling the Serpents to meet you at the Wyrm later in case there was any news from anyone. You also told them to go straight back to the Southside once school was finished.

You didn’t want anyone hanging around the Northside any longer than they should with the dark circle looming. Reggie would be looking for a fight and the only way to stay out of his way was to completely avoid any places he might be. Outside of the schools walls, Reggie couldn't be stopped by any teacher or staff. At this point, you were pretty sure the new sheriff would even turn a blind eye.

Later, when it drew nearer to the time that you were supposed to be meeting the Serpents at the Wyrm, you called FP to see if anything had changed but Fangs was still being held and the deputies still refused to let out any information at that time.

You decided to walk to the Wyrm since you needed the cold night air to help you come up with a way to keep the Serpents calm and keep their heads down until you can find out more.

As the cold air tickled your cheeks and burned your finger tips, you suddenly became very away that you weren’t alone.

It wasn’t unusual for a girl your age to be worried about walking alone in the evening but you were certain that someone was following you.

You decided to speed up but not so much that it would cause a reaction from the man behind you. Running would only make him chase you and like every predator and prey, you’d end up caught or trapped if you weren’t smart about it.

Your heart started pounding at the thought that the man behind you could be the Black Hood. He went after sinners. He went after your father. He could very well be targeting you next.

As you got closer to the Wyrm you could hear voices and cheers.

That’s when you noticed the large man behind you crossed to the other side of the road. Perhaps it was just someone trying to scare you or just decided to walk behind you. But if it were the Blackhood, you didn’t want to think about what would have happened if you decided to turn down an alley or walk past a dark corner where a street lamp had blown.

As grateful as you were that there were voices up ahead, you almost wished there hadn’t been.

You picked up your pace across the parking lot of the Wyrm once you saw the group of boys in ski masks and letterman jackets, slicing the tires of some of the bikes.

“Hey assholes!” You picked up a rock and threw it at them, it hit one of them on the shoulder which caught all their attention. “Get the hell out of here!” You couldn’t believe the Bulldogs were so stupid.

“Who you talking to, Serpent Slut?” One of the boys scoffed at you.

“I’d rather be a Serpent slut than a bunch of little puppies trying to act like big dogs.” You swiped a large piece of wood from broken crate or delivery palette and swung it in your hand as you approached the boys.

The boys laughed at your attempted to threaten. Their laughter only provoked you as you sent the large slab of wood flying towards the group.

“Tell me, do you lick each others balls or just your own?” You smirked as the wood made contact with the group.

One of the largest boys, you can only assume to be Reggie, growled as he blocked the wood with his forearm. He held the knife out and one of the boys had the sense to snatch hold of his forearm to stop him moving forward, This only enraged Reggie more as he dropped the knife so he could bend down and grab hold of the rock you originally threw and shot it towards you.

You tried to knock it away but the rock hit your face, splitting the skin on your cheek. You hissed and stumbled back, reaching up to where the rock had hit you hard.

The boys followed by throwing a few more rocks towards you, bruising you in several places before the Wyrm door swung open and out came several of the. older generation including Hog Eye.

“Hey!” The men boomed as the boys took off. The men chased after them followed swiftly by Sweet Pea and some of the other young Serpents but Reggie must've brought his car as they managed to get away.

“Hey, you okay?” Toni helped you up as the boys throws had knocked you to your knees.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said as you felt the warm liquid roll down your face, leaving puddle on the stones beneath you.

“What animals.” Toni took her sleeve and held it against your cheek.

“Maybe insulting and then throwing a giant plank of wood at them wasn’t my best idea.” You. grimaced as your cheek stung.

“Yeah, maybe you should have come and got us first.” Toni agreed.

“They were cutting up tires.” You gestured towards the flat tires on the bikes. “They would’ve ran before we made it back outside.”

“Always tryna play the hero, just like Jughead.” Toni teased you. She took you inside to which you informed the serpents that there was no news other than the fact Jughead got McCoy to agree to be Fang’s attorney.

Hog Eye put a small butterfly stitch on your cheek and you held some ice on it to help the swelling go down. You silently cursed the jocks outside as you knew that the fresh mark on your face would cause trouble not just with FP but also your dad. It was the debate tomorrow and you said to Archie you’d go. Showing up with a shiner wouldn’t help your dad or his worries.

You were one of the last people to leave the bar that night.

Your stalker from earlier had left what felt like a cold hand print on your back. It felt like he was holding onto you and the moment you’d step outside his grip would retract and bring you straight to him.

One of the older men had offered you a lift back to Sunnyside on the back of their bike so you weren’t alone but once at Sunnyside, you couldn’t help but feel the fear seep through you.

You sat on your bed with a crowbar from your car trunk tight in your grip.

“Not today. Not today.” You kept whispering as you tried to keep yourself awake. If the Black Hood was coming for you, you weren't going down without a fight.

The next morning you were awoken by a phone call. The sun was blaring through the windows and you noticed you had dropped the crowbar down onto the floor.

“Hello?” You answered your phone, groggy from the sudden wake up call.

“I’ve got Attorney McCoy here with Fangs now. She says they only have 24 hours to make something stick or they have to let Fangs go.” Jughead’s voice came racing through the phone.

“That’s good news, right? He could potentially be getting out.” You sat up on the bed and rubbed your eyes.

“I don’t know. With the dark circle vandalising the Wyrm last night I almost feel Fangs is safer in here then he is out there.” Jughead admitted, you could hear the concern in his voice.

“He has the Serpents. We can protect him.” You tried to assure Jughead but in all honesty, you were worried for his safety yourself.

“Yeah but from a whole town? When news gets out that Fang is suspected of being Midge’s murderer, the whole of the Northside will demand blood.” Jughead was right. This wasn’t going to die down quietly.

“Look, we’ll deal with whatever is thrown our way. We’re Serpents after all. I’d come to the station today Jug but it’s the debate this afternoon and I promised Archie and my Dad I’d go to support him.” You told Jughead over the phone.

“It’s alright. I doubt there’s much I can do today let alone both of us sitting at the station. I’ll call you later. Hopefully we’ll have an idea of the time Fangs can break out of here.” Jughead ended the call there and you decided to get up and washed.

You drowned yourself in a coffee and tried your best to clean up your face. It was hard trying to cover the bruising since it hurt to even put a make up brush to it but you did your best.

Your phone rang as you went to leave to get some lunch at Pop’s before the debate.

“Hey Archie.” You picked it up knowing full well he just wanted to ask if you were still coming.

“Hey, you on your way to town hall yet?” He asked.

“Now? The debate doesn’t start for another hour, Arch.” You pulled your phone away from your ear to check the time. “I’ll be there, Archie. I promise.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you there.” Archie sounded nervous. You weren't surprised.

After a small lunch at Pop’s it was time for the debate.

You contemplated standing up on the side of the stage with Archie but you had your serpents jacket draped over your arm and thought it looked bad enough you had it as a reminder to the entire town about Fred’s daughter being a Serpent let alone flaunt it on stage.

You sat down beside Betty so you could still be near the front so that your dad could see you in the audience.

“Welcome, one and all, to tonight's Mayoral Debate.” Alice Cooper started the debate off. “Jumping right in. Fear and unrest rule the streets. Hermione Lodge, how would you restore safety to the town?”

“Well, we're already making strides, Alice. My husband and I personally recruited Sheriff Minetta from Centerville after Tom Keller resigned. Not one week on the job, and he's apprehended Midge Klump's murderer.” Hermione spoke boldly. You stuck your tongue in your cheek as the audience cheered. How dare they just accuse an innocent boy. A boy. Fang was still in high school for gods sake.

“Fred? Rebuttal?” Alice turned the microphone over to your father.

“We don't know if he's the killer.” Fred tried to back Fang up. You felt a warmth in your chest at that. The audience on the other hand didn’t. Especially the bulldogs.

You locked eyes with Reggie and scowled as he smirked.

“All I'm saying is let's not call for blood until we've had a trial. What does that say about us, about Riverdale?” Fred continued.

“You talk about not calling for blood, Fred? Are you aware of a group called the Dark Circle?” Hermione’s mention of the dark circle made your heart stop and from the look of Archie’s face in the wings you could tell his did too.

“No, I'm not.” Fred admitted honestly.

“Then let me enlighten you.” Hermione started. “The Dark Circle is a dangerous, radical group that traffics in terror, violence and street-warfare. It's a group started by your son, Archie.” Hermione didn’t stop there. “Let’s not forget to mention that your own daughter belongs to the same Southside hoodlum gang that Midge’s murderer belonged to. Now I ask you, Citizens of Riverdale, how can we trust a man to run a town when he can't even keep his own house in order?”

Hermione’s words set a fire off inside you but with the sudden gasp of fear from Veronica as she stepped forward and said “Oh My God. It’s the Black Hood!” all hatred drained from your body like the colour in your face.

You watched Archie dive towards your father as shots started firing. You called out Archie’s name as you tried to scramble towards the stage but Betty pulled you down.

“Dad!” You cried out, Hal pulled Betty towards the fire exit and Betty kept her hand on your wrist.

“(Y/n), I’m fine!” You heard Fred’s voice as you caught a glimpse of him behind the podium.

The Black Hood soon fled from the scene and fortunately no one was hurt.

You kept yourself tucked under your dad’s arm as soon as you reunited with him and Archie.

“I guess Sheriff Keller's not looking so bad right about now, huh?” Your dad moved away from you when Minetta finally appeared.

“There's a trapdoor leading from the balcony to the roof that's not on any building plans. But I've got cars all over downtown. He's not gonna get far, we'll catch him tonight.” Minetta sighed, you tried to think that it wasn’t his fault but how could they fail to spot something as important as a door on the roof.

Hiram stepped forward and you watched him like a hawk. His eyes met yours but only for a moment and you swore you saw a twitch of a smirk on his lips when they did.

“Sheriff, if I may? Archie's come face-to-face with the Black Hood before, looked him in the eyes. Maybe he could help identify him.” Hiram suggested. You wanted to step forward and say no for Archie but fortunately, tonight, Archie had a brain.

“You up for a ride-along?” Minetta asked.

“Actually, I'm gonna head home, stay with my dad. Make sure he's safe there.” Archie refuses the offer, you could tell by Hiram’s face that he didn’t like that.

“All right, then.” Hiram had to accept it in front of your father.

“Hey Arch. If you and Dad are heading home I need to go to the station. Jughead is still there with Fangs and it isn’t fair he’s been there all day. I promise I’ll come home tonight after I check in on Jug.” You told Archie but you knew your dad was listening too.

“But the Black Hood––”

“––Isn’t going to make another appearance tonight. The town is crawling with cops.” You interrupted Archie, trying to assure him. “I won’t be long. I promise.” You kissed both Archie and your father’s cheek before darting to the exit.

Jughead had texted you asking if you were okay, Betty had texted him about the shooting.

Y/N: Everything’s fine. Dad and Arch are safe. On my way to station.

You texted Jug as you drove over to the station. You pulled up behind it to avoid the protestors outside the entrance and quickly ran inside.

“We’ve got an hour and then they officially have to let him go.” Jughead told you as you met him in the hallway.

“There are a hell of a lot of people outside, Jug. Angry people.” You pulled your jacket around you tightly as your knuckles went white from nerves.

“I know.” Jughead placed his hands on his hips and looked past you to the entrance doors. “I got to go meet my dad. Can you stay here? Fangs shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Sure.” You had no problem staying with Fangs.

Jughead let you inside the holding area and left swiftly after.

“Hey.” You knelt down and touched the bars of the cell. Fangs was sat on the floor with his head in his hands.

“(Y/n).” He sat up when he realised it was you.

“Hey kid.” You teased, smiling at him to try and cheer him up. “You’ll be a free man soon.”

“I’ll be a dead man. Reggie and his asshole club are gonna be waiting out there for me. Even if I didn’t kill Midge I still slept with her whilst she was dating Moose.” Fangs couldn’t hide his fear.

“The Serpents will have your back if they are and you know that.” You reached forward and touched the boys hand. He took it and held onto it tightly.

“You’re going to be alright.” You whispered, you wanted to make a promise but in the town of Riverdale, being alright couldn’t always be a promised that could be made.

Time went by and the protest outside only worsened. You could hear the shouting and chanting as the sheriff finally unlocked Fang’s cell.

You hugged the boy as he took you in his arms.

“Hey, hey, hey...” You rubbed his back. “We’re gonna get out of here.”

You pulled away and immediately called Jughead.

“Where are you? It’s gotten worse. How are we supposed to get him out of here now?” You moved away from Fangs as he collected his things from the desk.

“I’m in the middle of it now! It’s the dark circle! They want blood!” Jughead yelled over the crowd he was stuck in.

“Get inside. We need to make a plan.” You hung up and texted the other serpents to come inside too.

“I called your brother. He might be able to help calm Reggie and the Bulldogs down.” Jughead told you as he entered the building.

“Okay. Go talk to Minetta about taking a different way out. I told Toni and the others to come inside to help too.” You sent Jughead Minetta’s way before taking Toni, Sweetpea and some others to where Fangs was waiting.

You could see FP arguing with one of the deputies at the desk as Jughead moved away from Minetta, a look on defeat on the boys face.

“Hey! Picking a fight with someone who is refusing to help us won’t solve the problem.” You moved forward towards the older man.

“(Y/n)––” FP went to argue but stopped himself when he saw your face. “What happened to your face?” He lifted his thumb to your cheek but you pulled away slightly.

“The dark circle last night at the Wyrm. It doesn’t matter. What matters is getting everyone out of here safe.” You couldn’t ignore the concerned look he had for you but it wasn’t the thing you should be focusing on right now.

You returned to Jughead as you heard him speak.

“We stand together so none of us falls. In unity there is strength.” Jughead pulled you towards the group.

“In unity there is strength!” You chanted along with the Serpents.

You were trying so hard to be the strong one being the oldest but you were terrified. There no denying that the mob outside scared you and you knew you wouldn’t be leaving unscathed. None of you would.

“Alright. Gather up. Let’s take this bull by the horns.” Jughead put himself infant of Fangs along with Sweetpea. They were the muscle to push the crowds out of the way.

You and Toni took the side of Fangs. You looked past Fangs, sharing a flash of fear between you and Toni’s eyes. The rest of the Serpents took the back. They would break off to push the crowd out the way if anyone tried to attack Fangs once you were outside.

“Ready?” Jughead asked everyone.

“Ready.” You all replied.

“Ready.” You whispered to yourself again, trying to tell yourself that it was the truth.

The doors were swung open by Jughead and Sweetpea as you all moved together.

The shouting was deafening once you hit the cold air of outside.

FP rushed forward to Jughead’s side to help keep the crowd off him and a few of the physically bigger serpents did the same on your side to protect you and Sweetpea.

That didn’t stop people from clawing and grabbing at you though.

You hissed as you tried to shrug hands off you.

How could people want Fangs that badly?!

JUSTICE FOR MIDGE

The words pierced your head as bodies collided against yours.

“BACK OFF!” You bellowed as loud as you could over the crowds chanting.

Suddenly, a loud thud crashed against the ground behind you.

“Archie!” You yelled as he tackled Reggie to the ground.

You tried pushing Fangs away from the boys as you spotted Reggie’s firearm.

“FANGS!” The words seem to leave your mouth the exact same time as the shot fired.

You didn’t know if the shot had hit anyone right away. FP had automatically gone to push you behind him to protect you. It seemed like a matter of seconds before you finally noticed where the shot went.

“Fangs! No!” You were the first one to notice that it was indeed Fangs who took the bullet. You tried fighting against FP as he had started pulling you towards him to get you away from it all.

He finally let go when everyone dived to stop Fangs from falling.

“Call an ambulance now!” FP pointed back at you.

You scrambled for your phone, ringing 911 with tears rolling down your cheeks as the blood soaked Fangs shirt.

“I need an ambulance at the sheriff station now! Someone’s been shot.”

(PART 33)

TAG LIST (TAGS ARE CLOSED)

@jugheads-lawyer @shannon-posts @montgomerydeladempsey@amycarstairs @geekoftv @forsytheserpents @treblebeth@sweetvengeancee @immortalmurphy @rln108 @twilight-loveer @ri-verdale @audreyxhorne @lefoutoir @riverdalehipsters @itsgirl17321@shewalksinstarlightx @cutesnakemum @juliet12345678@oldschool-aye @bluexangels@esmiestyles @lifeisforlosers @janellemonaenae @negansxlucille @hellboundblogger @im-everyones-type @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag@aliceswonderlandblog@youvebeenwinchesterd @uncharte-dlove@illinterrogatethecat00 @angelicaleonamichelle@thealipower @hyuk-chan@photoastucess @onceitoowasinnocent @anthonystoner @isak-lovelies@willow-days02 @john-and-mary-husband-and-wife @imaginationss @hey-assbutt6-6-6 @itsfangirlmendes @littlemisscaptainfandom @tudorsloth@whyugottabsorude@brooke-supernatural16 @itscalledfandombitches@writings-of-a-girl @mona-stay @rhyxn@deangirl1992 @shadok2015@herchroniclesofbeinghuman @itsthemidnightblog@itsthemidnightblog @13-reasons-whyyy @iwannadiehere@phanchopsticks @sour-kangaroo1998 @thats-so-rhyan@goghadventuring @http-ken-tani @asouthsideserpentatemyheart @nijiru@someone959-blog @princess-of-the-fandoms @rickky-grimes @cutelittlepurplesouls @gublerandbands @ee17s @fxcking-negan@thesecretlifeoflila @thecraziestcrayon@montgomerydeladempsey@lucifers-embodiment-imagines @southsideprincessx@jupiter-leo @antisocial-psychotic-life @jxhn-mxrphy @holding-onto-youth@floralchlxe @anton-shudders @motherofdrgons @nicole-stokes21 @thatwinchesterchick @littleladdty @sleepylunarwolf @baasooreexiiaa@bombcheryl@destielschild @awesome-georgia @cry5t4l-w4rri0r@damagedbrokenbuthappy @dbtvluv @meganlpie @ivanna6026 @lucifers-khaleesi @flashgunashton @imagineimuptonogood @saved-by-fiction@morkookie @superheavymetalunicorn @avengersbabe13@strngervibes@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iicouldnotcarelesss@spikensummers @falloutboywifey @daisy-is-a-fandom-whore @thegreat-annamaria @yourphotographyteen16 @jade-cheshire3303 @lysax96@kathe @michellejonesisawesome @unaveragewriterfreak @southern-girl45 @destineeee5h @raegan-hale @serpentwarriorprincess@baileythepenguin@evyiione @aya-fay @thed4rkr00m @fuckunrequitedlove @thequeerishere555 @multifandomtrash67@hailqueenconquer @queenslandlover-93@welcometomyworldwithoutrules @derangedcupcake @jdm-is-dad@sellymarie97 @southsidemistress @southside-serpent-princess @shine-dont-shadow @okay-people @lightrain-loudmind @sincewmyb @lovableah @lizmalfoywayland @multifandom-fangirl4 @artistwithinspiration @marie-lestowell @cantfallasleephelp @valeria-winchester @slowly-but-shurley @dont-stop-keep-walking @tblyler @stansmyth @namelesslosers @squadkyoya @irishgirl1613

251 notes · View notes

kristinee · 4 years

Text

New Girl (Pt.2)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, weed

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: It was about time for you to go and hang out with the Pogues, it was so nice to be invited and even if you were excited to be around them all, you couldn’t keep your eye off of one.

A/N: I couldn’t be more happy that the first part was so well received. I hope you guys enjoy this as well :)

You woke up this morning more excited than ever. It was your time to make an amazing first impression with some pretty cool people. Although you had just met yesterday there was some kind of comfort you felt with them that you didn’t quite have before with your other friends...To be fair, those other friends treated you poorly, you were left out of most things they did until they needed you. Whether it be to give them a ride on a beer run or use your house for parties while your dad worked nights trying to make ends meet. It wasn’t entirely your best judgement but it got them to hang out with you, maybe there wasn’t a need for you to miss home.

Anyway that wasn’t what today was about. The phrase went through your head about a billion times but you had to keep reminding yourself that this was a fresh start. And to have a good start you needed a cute outfit to do it in. Even if it wasn’t a big deal it was the little things that mattered right now so you put something on and went to the kitchen to search for leftovers or something to eat for breakfast but instead found your dad cooking.”You seem to be pretty perky.” you said in a goofy tone, mocking what he said to you yesterday. “Well I thought I’d cook up one of my famous breakfasts for our first real morning out here.” He motioned his hand to the window while holding his spatula. “And I see I’m not the only one excited, you're already dressed to go out.” You laughed as you reached across the counter to grab a piece of bacon. “Just remember to clean up the deck before you leave and I’ll consider letting you come home after dark.”

It was a tempting offer so you decided to go for it, it'd buy you some time at John B’s to possibly talk to JJ. You know you just met but what would a little harmless flirting do.

A few hours go by of cleaning and watching TV with your dad when you hear a knock at the door. “I’ll get it.” You stand up from the couch to open the door, you’re greeted by the group of five. Kiara standing in front with a styrofoam container. “This is for your dad from my dad. He insisted on sending over some fine Outer Banks cuisine to the new residents.” She handed it to you and you set it on the counter before giving your dad a hug goodbye.

You walked out your front door to see an old van parked in the driveway. “So is the Mystery Machine (A/N: you get it because the van and scooby doo and mystery solving, okay that was the whole joke, back to the story) of The Cut?” they laughed at the reference you made as JJ held open the door for everyone to hop in. “Ladies first” which you assumed was the same plot he had as yesterday as the boat but you didn’t mind as much this time. You took a seat on the floor next to Pope and chatted with him while you took a short ride to John B’s. “So do you guys usually do this everyday?” you decided to ask him since he seemed to be quiet but observant. “Well John B lives on his own, JJ’s dad could care less, Kie is supposed to be a kook but she doesn’t really listen to her parents, Sarah has kind of persuaded hers into thinking she’s perfect, and they basically steal me from my house everyday so I guess it's just kind of become routine.” It was a straightforward answer for sure.

Walking into the house was an experience for sure. It seemed to be the perfect place for any teens to hang out. Even if it was a tad messy there wasn’t anyone there telling you what to do so you’d take what you can get. Hopefully this is where you’d be spending your summer from now on. You texted your dad to let him know you were safe.

“And welcome to your home for today, the fridge is mostly empty except maybe a couple beers, and the bathroom is to the left.” You looked around as John B spoke to get more of a feel for the place. “Soooo what do you guys usually do for fun around here?” You walked through the small house to look at the backyard to see JJ already pulling out a pre-roll, putting it to his lips. There was something about this that had you memorized. “Oh so that’s what you do around here. I’ve actually never smoked before.” You had laughed at the end of your statement because you had forever been surrounded by people who did it but never bothered to try it although it piqued your interest. “Would you mind if I tried taking a hit?” JJ’s blue eyes shifted to look at you and back at the blunt. “You gotta slow down Y/N. You have to let me school you in the art of a perfect inhale.” You sat next to him on the porch swing, your body turned towards him as he began his lesson of the day. “So of course you pick it up, like so. Wrap your lips around the tip.” As he looked at you, he winked at his own innuendo. “And then you gotta take a nice breath in, not too long or else you’ll cough up a lung.” He paused for a few seconds and took it from his lips. “It’s a little hard to talk with smoke in your mouth but I recommend taking in a bit of extra air just to really soak in this lovely substance.” His eyes were watering a little from the burn until he exhaled a large cloud. You decided to take in less since it was the first time. You weren’t sure where this impulse came from but you were enjoying it as you exhaled, with only a couple coughs.

Kiara came back out on the porch with a couple drinks “Wow, she’s a natural.” her hand reaching out to yours so she could get her fair share of the high. “I mean my friends always did it when I was around and I think I know why.” You felt more relaxed than you had been in a while.

Little time had passed before John proposed the idea of you guys go on the boat so you could swim and drink out on the water. “Hey Kiara, do you think I could borrow a bikini? I didn’t bring one with me.” You felt a little weird asking her since you had just met but you were lucky she practically lived here and kept a bag of extra clothes. You decided on a really nice maroon bikini she admitted she didn’t really want anymore. You put it on under your clothes and gathered with the others on the boat.

They had already cracked open drinks and turned on music, I guess they just lived an eternal spring break here.

Everyone else was already ready to swim and you were the only one who had clothes on so you decided to follow suit with everyone else. You took off the outfit you had, feeling a little self conscious until you saw JJ looking “Hey Kiara, this looks better on Y/N than it did you.” He awaited his punishment and plugged his nose before she shoved him in the water. “Shouldn’t have said it. No offense Y/N” Pope spoke up, you could tell he liked Kie...The night went on with the little party and swimming like planned and of course a little more progress with JJ and you eventually got a text from your dad telling you that he had a long day so he’d be going to sleep early so he’d count on you to be home at a reasonable time. It was never something he’d said before. It had always been a “be home before dark scenario” hmm.

It was about time for everyone to go so you dropped off Kie and Pope and went to the figure eight to drop Sarah off until John B said something “You know I think I’m just gonna go with Sarah, you wouldn’t mind just dropping the boat off and staying at my house after you drop on Y/N right?” JJ looked at John B, then you, at Sarah, back at you and then John B. “Uhh yeah that's fine man. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make sure to get our new little friend here gets home” He smiled at you. If anything could possibly make the night any better. This would be it.

Ahhh Part 2. I’m debating on whether the next part should be 2.5 or just 3. As always, give me feedback. I hope you're all safe and healthy. I didn’t edit take much time to edit but I hope it is still up to your expectations <3

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist and request. I write for all characters. Fluff or smut so just let me know

Tags: @k-k0129 @treestarrrrrrrr

#obx #outerbanks #outer banks netflix #outerbanksedit #outerbanks imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #johnb #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #jj maybank smut #john b routledge #topper thornton #jj obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #my writing

60 notes · View notes

silverdaddyrdj · 5 years

Photo

Imagine: Veteran lawyer Hank Palmer wants to spoil you rotten but you’re unsure about the idea. But, he’s persistent and can put up a very good argument.

Rating: Explicit/18+ (you shouldn’t be on this blog if you’re below 18, anyway)

Request your imagine headcanons and we will write a little something for you. And you get a bonus silver daddy picture to go with it. :)

"Anything you want, sweetheart. And I mean anything."

His voice is silky, playful, and he knows you're caught, like prey, in the carefully spun webs of his charm.

It started three weeks ago at the local café, where you stood waiting for your morning coffee. You checked and rechecked your watch, and willed for the line to move faster, but it didn't budge. If looks could kill, the cashier and the four people in front of you would've died on the spot.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you picked up your coffee and prepared to dash to your office across the street. If you timed it right, you could slide into the conference room just before the San Francisco office dialled in. You prepared to sprint, but, clearly, fate had other plans. Just as you were about to run out of the café, you bumped into a solid mass of designer suit and expensive cologne that reminded you of spotless sandy beaches and calm, clear ocean hundreds of miles away from the busy morning rush of Chicago. That's when you felt the warm dampness spreading down your front — the content of your cup was mostly on the ground, but it was also staining the beige top you wore, primed and ironed for the meeting.

"Fucking asshole," you said before you could stop yourself, and the hand holding out a silk napkin before you froze.

"I'm so sorry."

You looked up, ready to give the offender a piece of your mind for ruining your morning. But, you caught yourself in time and the words froze at the tip of your tongue. Later that night, you swore to your sister that you had seen the most beautiful pair of eyes ever known to man — and its owner, the apologetic culprit who spoilt the start of your day, wasn't all that bad. After all, he had graciously accepted your apology for the caffeine-deprived outburst and offered to pay for the dry cleaning bill.

That's how you agreed to meet him for a drink. You had gone to the pub intending to make up for your lack of manners and end the encounter on a friendly note because Chicago has an uncanny ability to appear very small sometimes. In your line of work — you’re a corporate lawyer at an investment bank — you deal with jocular finance bros all day, and almost everyone knows everyone else. And judging by the man's outward appearance — hand-cut suit, leather shoes, silver-dotted wavy hair that begged for your fingers — you had assumed he was someone important. But all of your strategic calculations went out the door that night, when, after three drinks, you tumbled into your queen-sized bed with him, your fingers in his hair, his lips on your thighs.

***

You shift in bed, a solid mass pressing into your back. He traces a finger along the side of your ear, down the column of your neck, coming to rest on your bare chest. You're pleasantly sore and aching all over, and there are at least a handful of bruises on your skin — he's an attentive lover; last night, he broke down your defenses with methodical precision, tearing away at your sense of propriety as he left you squirming under the firm weight of his body, awash with such overwhelming pleasure that you didn't give a single fuck if your next-door neighbours heard you as you screamed, begged and urged him, your voice straining, to go harder, to push deeper, to take his pleasure from the dripping warmth between your legs. And, he obliged.

"Well?" he nudges, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands drawing circles around your navel. "You've gone quiet."

You try to pull away from him, but only half-heartedly, and he doesn't appear to be in a hurry to let you go. The two of you stay entangled in a heap of limbs and skin, in need of a shower and some concealer to cover up the secret you've chosen to keep from your friends.

It's complicated, you've argued, as you debated telling them the truth after he had left at the crack of dawn on your first night together. He's an influential man, you've got your own career ambitions; he's almost twice your age, never married, and avoids the topic of past dalliances. He isn't even interested in your history of failed or mismatched relationships, and yours lean more towards physical gratification.

You've been meeting him whenever work lets you both escape for a brief time. It’s one of the upsides of having your office be less than a block from his. He takes you to lunch, you flirt with him over texts when you’re back at your desk, you both grab quick dinners from nearby restaurants. The nights end like clockwork: With him in your bed, climbing on top of you, or sometimes you’re straddling him, or he’s bending you over the chaise, pressing you into the wall, taking you against the floor-length window or by the door; he’s all over you, inside you, rocking your world, like clockwork. You enjoy the routine and he's adaptive enough that it doesn't feel monotonous.

But you've still been wary about where this ends up — as much as the two of you connect physically, you've noticed his aloofness when he isn’t in bed trying to make love to you. Both of you roam in different social circles; he likes rock concerts, you prefer off-Broadway theatre; he plays golf on weekends, you're at Wrigley Field screaming your lungs out; he knows every Michelin star chef in town, you love Chinese takeaway from the shop three blocks from your apartment.

***

You sigh. He's waiting for an answer. "I think it's a little weird," you say, finally, and it earns a soft-bellied chuckle from him. He looks cute when he laughs, it brings out the dimples on his cheeks. "Look," you say, gesturing around, "all this is great. The sex is definitely amazing but I can't accept gifts like this. It's too much."

"Can't a man spoil his lover?" he asks, and there's such an infuriating innocence in his tone, you can't bring yourself to call him out on the hint of cockiness in his statement.

Instead, you shake your head and this time, when he leans in for a kiss, you pull away and turn sideways so that you're both facing each other directly. You press a palm against his cheek and say, "As much as anyone in my place would be thrilled to have someone pamper them, I can't just spend your money so recklessly because you're telling me to." You hold up a hand when he looks like he's about to protest. "Let's do a trade-off. I'll let you buy me something nice like you want just this once if you let me take you out to a fancy dinner tomorrow like I’ve been wanting to. It’s only fair I get to spoil you rotten too once in a while."

He considers the proposal and smirks. "Deal."

It takes you another hour to get dressed, after both of you get carried away in the shower, where he has you pressed against the glass, your legs quivering as the pleasure drags on, setting your nerves on fire. He doesn’t stop moving when your body tenses up for the second time and it knocks the breath out of your body; you hold him like both of your lives depend on it. You clench down hard around him and he moans, his thrusts finally faltering and pushing him over the edge.

***

You end up spending the afternoon along the Magnificent Mile and you're impressed — for years, you've walked past the glass facades and fancy storefronts, admiring the catalogue of colourful designer bags, shoes and clothes on display, straight off the runway, sometimes, but you have always known any one of those items can do some serious damage to your bank balance. He seems to know every store attendant by name and they appear almost reverential in his presence. As the afternoon progresses, your resolve starts to crumble and every time you give in, he triumphantly, and with genuine delight, hands over his credit cards.

After your seventh purchase of the day, having spent at least a year's worth of rent in the city, you call it quits. He looks disappointed, like a kid who's just been told no, but at least he offers to put the bags in the car. That evening, you insist on taking him to the best pizzeria in the city. It's dirty, greasy, smelly and exactly why it's a fan-favourite. Watching him, the same man who wines and dines in the country's most elite fine-dining establishments, devour a large slice of pepperoni without a care in the world is perhaps, you think, the greatest present he could’ve ever given you. It makes you grin from ear to ear after as you walk back to the car, your hands entwined.

He looks pleased with himself. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun," he says as you get in the car and you can see there's a tinge of regret in his eyes. Perhaps with time, you can uncover the mystery behind those brown orbs that look like they have seen the world a hundred times over — if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve fallen for them. Just a bit. You look forward to learning more about him and think, maybe, just maybe you might tell your friends the truth tomorrow. For now, you smirk and unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing over onto his lap, and the shocked look on his face is worth it. The indoor parking lot is pretty empty at this time of the evening. You think back on how he spent the entire week rocking your world, seven ways to Sunday, and, as you reach down for his zipper, you reckon it's time someone shakes up his world a little.

"If you thought that was fun, you're gonna love what I have in mind."

Fortunately for you, and maybe it's the added experience that comes with his age, he catches on quickly and the sudden smoulder in his eyes almost dares you to do your best. Never one to shrink from an honest challenge, you grin and crash your lips together.

#hank palmer #rdjedit #robert downey jr #rdj #the judge #rdjgifsdaily #dailyrdjposts #actoredit #fic #silverdaddyrdj #silverfoxrdj

191 notes · View notes

visionofnoxus · 4 years

Note

☮ - for Swain to kill someone trying to verbally hurt Lillithe ❀ - to grab Lillithe by the jaw and force her to meet Swain’s gaze and be possessive~ (suggested setting: High command War Room meeting or High Class Social Event ) || ~♱💒🥀💒♱~ asked as @crucifix-and-the-rosary

// And here we go. I tried my hand at it. Hopefully you find it a nice read. I need to interract more with your muse to get a proper feel for her and Swain. Please do comment. Crucifix-and-the-rosary

It had been years since the last time Noxian High Command had truly assembled. It was rare nowadays, as the empire had withdrawn within itself with the ascension of the new Grand General some ten years ago. After Darkwill’s death, the ever expanding offensives in all directions had seized or at the very least been scaled down severely. Noxus had turned from raiding and conquest to instead solidifying it’s existing areas and building infrastructure that had fallen to ruin or had not even existed in the first place. The Trifarix had taken the highest executive power in the empire and it now mandated the progress in form, pace as well as who exactly was overseeing that particular project.

As such, this group of generals, admirals, warlords and most prominent people of political, commercial and social background rarely gathered en masse anymore. There were no projects so large and complicated, so multifaceted that the High Command would had been needed to be called into session. Which made it all the more intriguing that Grand General had now called for the assembly. Rumors were floating around the gathering’s purpose. Some spoke of a new attempt at the invasion of Ionia, that the Grand General desired to correct the mistakes of the past and bring the island nation finally to heel. Others said that Noxus desired to expand their holdings in Shurima, to destroy the fledgling empire of sand before it could reassert itself. But what of Demacia? And wasn’t this meeting obviously about the situation in Freljold? The most daring guesses were that the Grand General intended to slaughter the High Command and declare himself the Tyrant of Noxus. Rumors were aplenty and any theory one could come up with, someone else had already guessed while downing a tankard of ale.

On the day of the meeting, all those influential people who had the necessary pull arrived to the Immortal Bastion. Some arrived alone, others with hordes of retainers. They all climbed the countless staircases high into the gargantuan fortress’ depths, each group eventually reaching the enormous double doors leading into the High Command’s chamber. The doors were made of black iron, the craftsmanship alien to even the eyes of most talented smiths. The ominous slabs of metal seemed like they’d just been willed into the form of doors, with no help of hammer or fire. Flanking that door on both sides stood Trifarian Legionnaires, draped in cloaks of crimson and onyx colored cloth. Their helms concealed their faces, their weapons glimmered with arcane. Through these doors, passage was only for High Command, the retainers having to remain outside. As was always the case, some did not accept it at first. Personal safety, the need of an adviser, absolutely necessary have a scribe with them… Excuses were plenty. The guards were threatened, attempted to bribe, their identity was questioned. But none who were not of High Command entered. The few who truly did not understand the message were cut down without a second thought, their blood spilling on the dark marble floor.

The inside of the chamber was a large circular room with a grey marble floor. Four tall pillars, eerily similar to the doors in that they seemed to just be singular piece of black iron, reached far into the ceiling that could not be seen, the darkness lurking above the attendees. An enormous table made of smoothed granite circled the room’s edges in the shape of a horseshoe and a map depicting the whole world had been carved into the stone at the center of the chamber. High back chairs carved of onyx were placed around the table for the members to sit down on. There were not enough seats for all, not even third of the entirety of the members, but precious few dared to take a seat. It was a statement to sit down in that table. An assertion that you held the strength to keep it and deserved all the attention that the place around this table brought with it from some of the most dangerous individuals in all of Noxus.

Grand General sat at the center of the arch, his position naturally allowing him to survey the entirety of the room and everyone in it. Unsurprisingly Darius sat just few paces to his right, yet the left remained empty. No one moved to take the free seat though, for while there was no official seating order, everyone knew this chair was favored by the Matron of the Black Rose. And she was an individual nobody wanted on their bad side. Standing up, Swain drew the attention of every single soul in the room, the silvery haired man speaking with low voice, yet each word carried effortlessly around the room. He commanded respect with confidence, directing the crowd’s attention with the ease of a practiced orator as he explained Noxus’ current state and their future plans.

Lillithe stood silently at the back, listening to grand general’s voice and dutifully following with her eyes each time he pointed at the map somewhere. The dark clad woman fought to resist nervousness, her fingers switching between toying with her rosary or brushing against the embroidery of the front of her dress. Every now and then, when the Grand General halted his speech to let someone else bring forth their case, she felt the tiniest spark of fear, her eyes scanning crowd and hoping nobody would ask of her opinion. The fact of the matter was that her position as the High Priestess mandated her participation, but she wanted nothing to do with what was being discussed. Wars, troop numbers, natural or magical catastrophes. All she could hear was the death and misery for men, women and children of Noxus, as well as the rest of the world. The idea of actively contributing to that ruin’s creation was appalling to the woman. But should they give the order, she’d follow suit and beg for forgiveness before, during and after.

“And what of the Kindred’s hags? Couldn’t their matriarch just suck the enemy dry?” She blinked twice, her mind catching up on what had just been said. Turning to face the rude man, Lillithe saw a rough looking admiral, seated on the fringe of the table. There were marks of acidic burns marring his face and he might have been partially blinded judging from the milky white left eye. “Yes you, can’t you just drain ground itself if there is enough life in it?” The man motioned at the map, pointing the location. “And that place is just full of those freaks, the very soil and air feeding them. Why bother with mortars and such if we can just have her strut in there and turn the place into her own little garden of death? Reckon it’d go well with that garb”. While crudely worded and offensive, this proposal earned positive murmurs, Lilith feeling her legs start to tremble. It felt like she was standing on thin ice, her heels causing tiny fractures each passing second by simply being present. These people desired for her to fall into that icy death. No. They wanted her to become that icy death for others.

“I do not recall that location being on potential target list?” Swain’s silken voice cut through the crowd’s debate. Debate that had very quickly been moving towards unpleasant conclusion in the nun’s opinion. The admiral growled back at him boldly: “Yeah it isn’t. Nor was it when we went there the first time. The freaks kept supplying their troops through it anyhow and I had to go and try to deal with it while you were building your fancy trap and Duqual hunted some fishermen on the coast” the admiral said with bitterness and accusation in his voice. “And so you took some of lord Emystan’s zaunite weaponry and decided to try and bomb the village” Swain concluded, his voice dangerously soft, yet lacking any true venom for now. “Marines should fight on water” came the gruff voice of Darius. He’d not been present but knew enough of the situation. And the outcome of the operation could easily be read from admiral’s burn face. “You want revenge. And you wouldn’t even do it yourself” He concluded, the challenge evident in his voice.

But the admiral wasn’t about to let his chance go to waste and the earlier reactions of the crowd must had emboldened him. “This ain’t about revenge Darius! Tis’ bout the fact that this wench” The sailor stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Lillithe who frowned, listening with dread on what might come next. “Has can suck that place drier than a sand dune. We could massacre our enemies with barely any losses. But because she’s part of some damn cult worshiping a bow wielding pillowcase, we don’ do shit”. Everyone could see the Hand of Noxus draw breath, ready to reply in just as crude language, but a motion of hand from Swain cut his action. “I see… Lady Lillithe, would you please come closer?” He asked, the woman blinking few times before nodding. “Of course, general Swain”. For once she felt horrible about her choice of shoes, each click of the heels echoing in the otherwise silent chamber as the tall woman approached her liege, the man standing up from his seat to meet her.

Stopping in front of the man, Lillithe nervously clasped her hands together in front of her, staring straight at the general’s eyes, noting how bronze shade of his irises gave way for unnatural crimson. “I hope you pardon me for laying a hand on you, my lady” He apologized, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face, the warm, rough fingers meeting with her smooth and cool skin. In almost intimate manner, the grand general moved his fingers to hold her chin, staring intently into her eyes. And then she felt him reach into her mind, soft but determined grip just like his hand’s, tapping into her mind. “Could admiral’s proposal theoretically be carried out?” Swain asked. “Could you drain the life out of the air and soil, as it is constantly being all connected through magic?” His voice was devoid of emotion, not giving away his opinion on the matter. With this prod, she considered the proposal and her mind suddenly took over, conjuring images of death. Nature, animals, the very earth itself dying as she took from it the life, the all connecting magic of the place dooming it to decay as the magic allowed her reach far beyond her normal capacity. Lillithe’s shoulders shook, her lip trembled as she witnessed the dreamlike image flashing in her eyes, her own personal nightmare. And then it was gone, the warm hand of the Grand General moving to cup her cheek again, his free hand wiping away her tears that she’d not even felt forming up. “I see. Thank you. And once more, apologies”.

Swallowing down the clump in her throat, the nun shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive, Grand General. All is for Noxus”. Removing his hand, the man offered tiniest of smiles to her. “An admirable answer, my lady”. With that, he turned around, returning to his seat. Turning his attention to the awaiting admiral, Swain shook his head. “The plan is not feasible. There are too many risks and variables” He stated, a wave of relief washing over the Matriarch. “Nonsense Swain! There’s always risks in war. No pain, no gain! And what risk exactly is there? This witch” The man made an angry motion towards Lillithe. “Is fooling you and..”. “I have made my mind, admiral. And you’ve thrown enough filth around for now” Swain interrupted, his voice velvet smooth but eyes as cold as Freljold’s winds. “What a load of bull! What are you afraid of? That me and my men can’t keep our hands of the pious sister here? Hah!” The Admiral shouted, anger evident in his face at the prospect of not getting his way. “Don’t worry. I promise me and my men don’t touch the witch, we’ll walk this corset clad hag into the valley and let her drain those freaks drier than her whole congregation after mass!”.

Those were the last words the admiral ever said, as a an arcing crimson bolt of lightning struck him the following second, frying the man alive in an instant. The smoking corpse fell against the table, collapsing sideways onto the floor. The high backed chair made of onyx-like material showed no signs of damage though, the seat as if it had been vacant all along. “Enough” Swain ordered to the now deceased, lowering his left hand back on the table, pulling on a long leather glove to cover the crimson appendage. “The target is not a priority. We can not be sure the ability would work as suggested and sending the Matriarch of the Holy Order of Kindred to an active warzone that we do not control is asking for riots across the empire”. The Grand General let his eyes scan the High Command’s members, daring someone else to challenge him. As no such fool presented themselves, he turned back to look at the map. “Now then…”.

#crucifix-and-the-rosary #hopefully you like it #papa burd storytimes #i think it became quite obvious what exactly was being planned tho :P

4 notes · View notes

tomhiddlesun · 5 years

Text

Porch Light | Jim Hopper x reader

First attempt at fanfic and it’s 12am, so it’s rough but maybe someone will like it. More to come. Debating on if I wanna slowburn or rage right into smut.

Jim Hopper x reader

Warning: mentions of death, violence. Angst and some building crushes.

————-

It wasn’t easy trying to be independent again. Especially after five years of marriage and one terrible spousal death. It had been a little over a year since your husband died and you’ve been trying to make sense of the world since. It seemed pretty unfair that you were left to pick up the pieces and figure out life Post-love-of-your-life, life. Yet here you were, sitting in a holding cell wearing nothing but a cheap prison sweat suit trying to figure out what you did to deserve all this.

You weren’t one to pity party, but the past year had been god awful. Your husband died in a school shooting and the dominos came crashing down from there. Crippling depression, therapist after therapist, trying to make you feel better about watching your partner bleed out in your arms. You weren’t even supposed to be there- you never went to visit him on campus. But just once, you wanted to surprise him at work. Then there were the screams silenced by the metal tap of a semi automatic weapon. You knew it was a mistake to live in New Hampshire... live free or die alright.

At first it seemed like you two were going to make it out. That was before you saw the gunman going for a classroom of students. You stepped forward before Shawn could stop you. And before you could make a move, he stepped in front of you as the gunman inevitably turned his muzzle your way. He took the bullet that was meant for you, falling to the ground as you crumbled to your knees. He took his last breathe in your arms and you lost your best friend and partner in a matter of minutes.

That’s where it all fell apart. You couldn’t get out of bed and when you did make your way into work you were a mess. Eventually they put you on forced leave, until you finally decided to leave it all behind and move back to your hometown of Hawkins. You yearned for something familiar, safe and comfortable again. Anything to dim your guilt riddled existence.

Yet...here you were in scratchy prison clothes after being found wandering down the street at 3 am, buck-ass naked. You, obviously, didn’t have any idea what you were doing due to the heavy dose of anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication you took before bed. You didn’t even know you’d left the house until you woke with a jolt in the back of Good Ole Chief Jim Hoppers blazer, covered in a dusty wool moving blanket. He’d found you wandering into a suburban neighborhood while he was out training a new patrolman. Despite your insistence this was a mistake, the Chief still said he had to take you in for processing.

Now, as you sat in the empty cell plucking at a lose strand on your cuff, all you could hope was that you’d be home soon in time to get some sleep so you could enjoy your weekend off. It’d been busy at the law firm you started at since moving to Hawkins and for the first time in months, you had a chance to relax. And for the first time in over a year, you actually wanted to.

“You better be careful- would hate to see you unravel that especially after we finally got you dressed”

The blood rises to your face as you turn your head toward the Chief, who was leaning against the cell door.

“Not that you would mind, huh, Chief.” You bit your cheek at the quip, squeezing your eyes shut with embarrassment. You always said stupid shit when you were tired.

A loud laugh erupted from Hopper as he pulled his keys from his belt and unlocked the door.

“Smooth Y/N. No need to sweet talk me, we spoke with your doctor and he confirmed the side effects, but more importantly, said youre safe to go home. Normally I would’ve just brought you home, but the new kid is the superintendents son so I had to put on a show. Sorry about that.”

“Never took you as one to play politics” you said with with a huff and a smirk as you pulled yourself off the metal bench.

“Me either, but processing gave me some alone time with you hence why I sent the kid home early” he said with a wink.

“Ha. Ha. Nice try mister.” You patted him With mock pity as you passed. “But I’m glad it was you picking me up either way. Stupid medication. Its killing my sleep schedule.”

“That’s some heavy stuff if it’s making you strip your clothes off and taking you on nightly strolls” he noted with one raised eyebrow.

You waved a hand “no no I sleep naked, but the walks are all the pill. Gonna have to sleep handcuffed to the bed if I’m not careful” punctuating the statement with a wide yawn.

“That can be arranged” the Chief hummed as he shut the door, following you to the front door of the deserted station.

You cast him a side glance and a wry smirk, before changing the subject “so, are you taking me home? Or do I have to strip down and walk back alone” Stupid or not if felt good to flirt again. Maybe the lack of sleep or medication made you brave, but you were enjoying the moment as you stared up at Hopper. If you had to flirt with anyone you were glad it was him. You hadn’t been in Hawkins long before you ran into him at work. He came stomping into the office in a huff that something was taking too long to process. Everyone was giving him the run around until you intervened. His face went from 50 shades of red to a nice shade of pink when you came over to help. He sat quietly and watched you get his paperwork together, without making a single rude comment or impatient sigh. Since then, he made it a point to beeline to your desk any time he was in the office, claiming “you were just the most competent person there” and that he didn’t want to waste time with anyone else. But you both knew better. You may have been emotionally numb, but you knew he was up to something and it felt nice to be appreciated a little.

Hopper graciously offered to take you back to your apartment, not that he would miss a chance to spend a few more minutes with you. He didn’t wanna push you or give you the “wrong idea”, but a little ride home couldn’t hurt. However, despite his well laid plans, you dozed off in the car. Though disappointed, jim made sure to avoid any potholes. You rested in silence until he woke you with a gentle shake in front of your house.

“Hey, we made it. Lemme walk you up”

You agreed with a sleepy nod and stepped out of the car, heading towards your front door. You tested the handle as Hopper stepped behind you, shining light onto the door knob.

“You really ought to fix your porch light” he mused as you fumbled with the screen door and main door knobs. Thankfully sleep-walking Y/N hadn’t thought to lock it.

“I know but I can’t reach.... but I do have a lightbulb inside if you’re willing to help Chief” you said, blatantly fluttering your lashes at him.

This elicited another big laugh from him as he shook his head at you. “So what am I your errand boy now?” He questioned as you shrugged and opened the door. Despite his mocking tone, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief.

“So, is that a no? If not, I can pay you in beer if you’re off shift.”

“Well, if you insist” he said as he hurried in after you. The apartment was pretty sparse, but it smelled like you. And though he didn’t admit it then, Hopper loved that. As you wandered in search of the light bulb he took in your space. The small overstuffed couch cloaked in a thick knit blanket sat in the living room. Some mail laid piled on the breakfast bar that doubled as your dining room table. Pictures of family and pets dotted the fridge in your practically empty kitchen.

Hopper resisted the urge to step further into the house. You intrigued him and it made him want to drink you in. Unfortunately he also knew a bit of your story, encouraging him to keep his distance. He knew what it was like to be in swathed in a constant cloak of pain and didn’t want to be the guy encroaching on your space like a dick pic on legs. So, he waited patiently at the door until you came back with the long lost bulb.

As Hopper stepped outside to change the bulb you stepped back into the bedroom to change out of the sweat suit. You slipped into a pair of black leggings and your favorite red checkered t-shirt before meeting Jim back at the door way.

“You can come in you know” you chuckled, taking the dead bulb from his hand and disposing of it in the kitchen “I did offer to pay you in beer after all.”

Hopper smirked as he stepped into the kitchen to take the cold bottle of beer you held out to him.

“Cheers to the Chief, for rescuing me from a night of naked escapades.” The two of you laughed, each taking several deep gulps from your drinks.

“It wasn’t easy. You tried to run off. We had to use the blanket to trap you. Like a net” Hopper laughed, leaning against the counter top next to you.

“Oh great. It gets better.” You shake your head at your shenanigans. “Still, thankfully you were there.” You cast a tender smile up at Hopper, who stared in quiet awe back at you. Despite seeing you naked earlier that night, that smile drew him to you far stronger. He could feel his heart start to race and blush creep across his cheeks as he looked down at you. He could swear he felt static electricity building at the point where your arms almost touched and he desperately wanted to close the gap and get some relief. More than anything, he wanted to lean over, caress your soft cheeks and bring your mouth to his. Instead, he stared until you broke the tension.

“So...You want another beer?”

Part two

#jim hopper x reader #stranger things #chief hopper #jim hopper #fan fiction #slow burn #probably #flirting

68 notes · View notes

king-of-brooklyn · 5 years

Text

Homecoming - A Sprace Fic, Part 2

( Here it is, pt. 2. This is a bit longer than the first part, but i hope you all like it!)

No one from Manhattan sees Race for two weeks. Rumors spread, and soon every newsie in New York knows that Race isn’t Manhattan anymore. They all know that now, he’s in Brooklyn.

The Brooklyn newsies, all familiar with and friends with Race, gladly take him in. Few could know Race and not like him, with his easy smiles and personable demeanor. He’s also a damned good newsie, and if he cleans them all out in poker, well, that can be forgiven.

Race bunks with Spot, sharing the small private room and single bed. The newsies chock this up to the close bond between best friends and the need for warmth in the winter, most no strangers to sharing a bed themselves. And if a few with especially good intuition notice anything between the two boys, they keep quiet. It is Spot Conlon after all.

———————————————————

The first day of the third week, a Tuesday, Race wakes up before dawn to try and get a head start on the day. He dresses quickly, debating whether or not to wake the still sleeping boy behind him or let him be for a few more minutes. Halfway through buttoning his coat, he is startled by arms twining around his waist, and a warm figure pressing into his back.

He turns and smiles at Spot, still getting used to waking up with him everyday. It is something he never thought would happen, that he can hardly believe is true.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The dark haired boy, still bleary eyed and yawning, lazily kisses Race before separating and pulling his own clothes on as well.

Once dressed, the two boys sneak out of the house, grabbing a few mouthfuls of breakfast on the way out. As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, they buy their papes and make their way down to Sheepshead. In this respect, nothing has changed. Spot and Race have always sold together in Sheepshead, always arriving early on a certain day when the races are supposed to be especially good.

Race wears red, Brooklyn’s color, though he has kept his Manhattan clothes in a box in Spot’s room. He still thinks of it by this name, though it is rapidly becoming known as their room. The thought makes his insides feel warm.

Spot’s voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, Racer?”

Race turns, practically beaming. He knows he shouldn’t feel this giddy, knows he should be more upset about leaving Manhattan, but he can’t bring himself to care. Jack’s words hurt, and so did leaving his friends. He misses the familiarity of the Manhattan lodging house, the easy camaraderie that could only come from years of living with the other boys. But here, in Brooklyn, he has friends too, boys he’s known for years despite not living with them. Here he has nightly poker games, Sheepshead and the races only a few blocks away, a lodging house that had been his second home, and is now his only home. Here he has Spot.

So when he answers his partner, his voice is bright and clear, untainted by sadness. “Thinkin’ ‘bout you, Spotty.” Not one to be unnecessarily sentimental, the blonde-headed boy smirks. “‘Bout how I’m gonna whip you an’ the rest a the boys at poker ta’night.”

Spot rolls his eyes, smiling. “Better hope you can back that mouth a yours up.”

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout me. My mouth works jus’ fine, thank ya very much.”

The other boy raises an eyebrow. “That so?” He allows his eyes to flit quickly over Race’s figure, the slight innuendo clear in his gaze.

“You tell me,” Race responds cockily, before turning on his heel to shout out the headline. “Extra, extra, read all about it! Dodgers slaughtered by Yanks, four to none!”

An audience is generated, payment is exchanged, and by the time the boys make it to Sheepshead, his bag is five papes lighter.

They split up, hawking their papes from either side of the racetrack. Race has always made it into a competition, both boys striving to sell their last newspaper before the other one can. For once, Spot succeeds, dropping onto a bench with his bag empty just minutes before Race. It’s not that Spot’s bad at selling papes, Race thinks. He’s the self anointed King of Brooklyn after all. Race just has more of a way with his customers, acting charming and funny and giving good tips on the races.

The day trots on, time told only by the number of laps the horses run endlessly around the dusty tracks. Each boy watches the races with wide eyes and chattering tongues, taking bets on the outcomes, telling old jokes, and regaling each other with stories. Finally, they gather their things and make the trek back to the Brooklyn lodging house.

Race quickly becomes caught up in an animated discussion with Spot about whether or not one of their regulars, Mr. Maltser, actually bets to win or just to impress a certain lady, not even noticing when the dark haired boy comes to a halt beside him.

He continues to walk, twirling his cigar between his fingers and loudly refuting the idea that anyone could gamble willingly if they know they will lose.

By the time he realizes Spot is no longer with him, he has noticed another, far more pressing issue. Jack Kelly stands not twenty feet from him in front of the lodging house, flanked by five other Manhattan newsies.

Fisher, Spot’s second in command, stands in the doorway, scowling. His eyes shift over the group, sizing them up and displaying his distaste for the out of place bunch.

As soon as he sees the two newcomers, Fish’s face lights up with barely concealed relief, but also worry. Jack shouldn’t be here, no one from Manhattan should, but six against one isn’t a fair fight.

In the time it takes Race to gather all this information, Spot has closed the distance between them, throwing an arm carelessly across his shoulders in a show of solidarity. Race sees the way this makes Jack’s face tighten, noticing how his eyes dart to the place their skin connects, but chooses to ignore the pinched look on his previous leader’s face.

He can feel the tension Spot is holding within him and feels exactly the same way, as if he’s about to witness a car crash, or maybe about to get hit.

Despite this, Spot makes the first move. Of course he does. His turf, his rules, his Race.

Plastering a smirk onto his face, he speaks to the leader of the six boys. “Heya, Jacky. Youse here for a chat? ‘Cause I gots some things ta take care a, an’ youse weren’t exactly invited in.”

The challenge is his voice is clear. He doesn’t want Jack here, and if he doesn’t leave soon, the borough leader will make him leave.

Jack acts unfazed by Spot’s statement, though Race can see the boys around him stir restlessly. He feels a slight pang for his friends, before quickly brushing it aside. He knows they’re here to take him home, and Race doesn’t want to go home. He wants Jack to apologize, but even that won’t change his mind.

Jack glances at the boys around him before stepping forward. “I’m here to talk to Race.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “Alone.”

Race’s breath hitches slightly as he feels Spot stiffen, his friend’s chest contracting before he pushes a heavy breath out. “I think that’s up ta Racer, don’t you, Jacky?”

The vocalization of his nickname, which only Spot is allowed to use, surprises Race. His lover is purposefully staking his claim in front of Jack, although he and Spot are the only ones who know the true intimate nature of their relationship. Most of the time Race doesn’t mind the secrecy, and since he and Spot have always been best friends, he doesn’t mind everyone else viewing them that way.

Race blinks, refocusing his attention on the situation at hand. He swallows thickly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He can feel Spot’s hand squeezing his shoulder, doing what? Warning him? Supporting him? He ducks out from under it, taking one step toward Jack before he feels a hand on his arm, stopping him.

When he turns he is only inches away from Spot. Looking into the shorter boy’s eyes, Race can see apprehension and fear reflected back at him, but all his partner says is, “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, Racer,” before releasing him.

Race gives Spot a slight smirk before flipping around to face Jack. He motions toward the nearest alley, waiting for Jack to pass him and then following. He almost looks back over his shoulder at Spot, but resists the urge. The Brooklyn borough leader will have to trust Race to do what he thinks is right, and Race has to worry about Jack, not Spot right now.

Alone in the alley together, Jack stands ramrod straight even as Race slumps against the brick, shoving his cigar between his teeth. After a moment of careful silence, Jack clears his throat.

“Racetrack, I-“ He breaks off and sighs. “Look. I was wrong to throw you out. An’ I’m sorry. I just... Spot? You chose Spot ova’ me? I needed youse to back me up in front of everyone, and you chose Brooklyn’s leader. I couldn’t....”

Jack breaks off again, rubbing his temples and looking pained.

“Dammit Race, what was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? I’m not mad at ya anymore, but I can’t... everyone knows about this! Everyone knows you took Brooklyn over ‘hattan. How am I supposed ta handle this?”

Race bites down on his cigar, contemplating Jack’s words. This is not how he expected the confrontation to go. In all honesty, he had no idea how it would play out, but this is not it.

Race flicks his eyes up, meeting Jack’s gaze. Measuring his words, he takes one more moment to consider: is this what he wants? He decides it is.

“I’m sorry too.” His quiet apology causes Jack to nod. The time for apologies is over, now Race has to make up his mind.

“There is no solution. Not really.” At Jack’s look of surprise, Race continues. “I mean, there’s no solution where I go back to Manhattan, back to the way things were before.” He holds up a hand to silence Jack’s noise of protest. “No, listen. You’re right. I challenged you in front a everyone. I chose Spot ova you, my borough leader. And I’m sorry. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but I thought it was the right one. Now I’s here in Brooklyn. You and I both know I’s can’t go back to Manhattan.”

Jack reluctantly nods in agreement, but Race keeps talking before he can say anything else.

“I can’t go back to ‘hattan, and honest Jack, I’s not sure I wants to.” Seeing a slightly hurt look slide across the Manhattan leader’s face, he scrambles to finish his thought. “Not that I’s don’t want ta see you guys! You’re my family, alla’ youse. But I got a family here, too, in Brooklyn. An’ I’ve been slowly movin’ toward Brooklyn for so long, Jack. Coming here now, it jus’ feels right. Manhattan was my home, an’ a damn good one too. But now I think I belongs in Brooklyn.”

Jack is quiet, letting Race’s words sink in to the silence between them. They both knew there was no easy solution to the problem, but Race doesn’t want to see how the Manhattan newsies react to this. They really are his family, and he doesn’t want to see them hurt.

Finally, Jack sighs. “You’re right. And it’s your decision.”

He spits into his palm, holding the hand out for Race to shake. Race does the same, and the two boys hold it for just a moment before Jack pulls him into a rough hug. No more words are exchanged, but both boys understand what the other is trying to say.

Jack finally breaks the silence. “Well, we should be getting back. I’ll tell tha’ boys what youse said- or did you wants to tell ‘em yourself?”

Race thinks about it for only a moment before declining, knowing that his friends would want more information, would protest and cajole him and finally just accept it and say their goodbyes, but that

he doesn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

He shakes his head. “No, you tell ‘em. Once youse all get back to tha’ lodging house, tell all tha’ boys. I’ll drop by tomorrow ta see ‘em. Make sure you tell ‘em I’m still gonna visit though. I’s not gone for good.”

Jack nods. “Yeah, don’ worry. I’ll tell ‘em.”

Together, they leave the alleyway, Jack in front of Race. He watches as Jack goes over to the Manhattan boys, talking to them in a low voice. So distracted is he by this scene, he fails to notice footsteps approaching until Spot is right behind him, touch light on his shoulder.

He starts, then relaxes. Without turning his head, he sighs. “Hey.” The word is quiet, simple, conveying his exhaustion.

Spot fidgets, feet shuffling back and forth before finally pulling Race around to face him. Race can see the fear and worry bright in his eyes now, clouding over his normally stoic facade.

“Well? What’d ya decide Racer?” He knows Spot is trying to be brave, trying to act like he doesn’t care what Race chose, even though they both know he does.

Race smiles, and with that, everything he saw in Spot before dissipates. His tone is light and teasing, but his words hold so much meaning within them.

“You really thought I would choose anything other than home?”

For a split second, Spot’s face falls, thinking of how Manhattan is Race’s home, but he’s wrong.

Race continues, leaning in close to whisper in his partner’s ear. “You’re my home, Spotty.”

The boy’s cheeks flush, though he holds his composure out in the open. Still, Race sees his face flood with relief, and he lightly squeezes his hand before releasing it.

A shout from Jack causes them both to turn around. “Alright Conlon, we’ll be goin’ now.” He focuses on Race, nodding his head. “Take care, Race, an’ we’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Race nods back, avoiding the stares of his other friends, who look confused and a little hurt. They’ll understand once Jack explains to them, and Race will visit often enough that they won’t forget him.

He stands with Spot watching them leave, waiting until they disappear into the crowd before he turns to the shorter boy. A look passes between them, and Spot slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright Racer. Let’s go home.”

Race smiles, leaning into Spot, content in the knowledge of what is his. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

#newsies #broadway #spot conlon #spot newsies #racetrack higgins #race newsies #racetrack newsies #jack kelly #jack newsies #sprace #spot x race #fic

36 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 6 years

Text

My Soul to Burn

Part of the EXO Demon Series

Genre: Demon AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Minseok

Summary: Unknown to the mortals, the world was plunging into chaos. But Minseok couldn’t care less. He was still able to take assignments, able to continue in collecting souls of the gullible. As long as he could do his job, he didn’t care what the angels or his boss were up to. Out stalking his next target, he met you, someone who could see him even when he chose to be invisible. At first, he shrugged you off, not interest in the mystery. But after another chance encounter, Minseok was intrigued. As your abnormality could have a part to play in the war against the angels, he was reluctantly keeping you close. With you as warm as he was cold, he tried to stay the terrifying demon while being haunted by Kris’ last words…

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

Luhan stared at Minseok with a jaw that practically touching the floor.

“Are you completely crazy?” he hissed, looking around frantically as if the head honcho would magically appear out of nowhere. “You’re really thinking mutiny is the way to settle this?”

“Why not?” Minseok leaned forward eagerly. “All he ever does is sit on his butt and watch the rest of us do the work. Besides, this is his mess. He’s the one who wanted more power. He’s the one who manipulated the situation to throw off the balance. Maybe if we give him over to them, they’ll leave the rest of us out of it.”

Luhan shook his head. “I’m not so sure that that’ll work.”

Shrugging, Minseok shifted back in his chair, giving off the fake air of nonchalant. “Whatever. That’s my idea. I don’t care if you do it or not.”

“I am so sick of hearing those words from you,” Luhan sneered. “Obviously, you do care or you wouldn’t even have thought of a way to help.” Exhaling, he looked away, his eyes searching for something that wasn’t there. “You know, I never got it. Everyone else hates you and you do it on purpose. The ones who can tolerate you are me and Jongdae. And that’s just because you’re not as much as an asshole to us.”

“It’s not my fault everyone else is annoying,” Minseok grumbled. He wasn’t able to meet his friend’s eye. Could he even count Luhan as a friend? Did he really know what a friend was?

“No,” Luhan countered. “I think you’re scared of getting hurt.”

Minseok scoffed. “Demons don’t get hurt.”

“Stop!” Luhan looked around as if anyone would actually be able to hear his outburst beyond the shield they had up. Lowering his voice, he continued, “Stop hiding behind what we are. It’s obvious that we aren’t emotionless robots. Look at Kris. Look at Yixing. Look at Sehun and Tao. We can feel. And more than just anger. You need to get that through your thick head.”

The table rattled as Minseok jumped to his feet. “Are we done?”

Luhan simply waved his hand.

Not bothering to take the stairs, Minseok took the faster way to the apartment, shimmering away out of Luhan’s sight. The place was dark and deserted, no sign of you or anyone else occupying any of the rooms. So Minseok let loose.

Letting out his built up rage, he ripped the paintings from the wall, overturned the chairs and dining room table, and anything else he could get his hands on. When the only thing left would be to burn the place down, Minseok collapsed against one of the now bare walls, sliding down to the floor. Wouldn’t this be quite the mess to explain to you when you came back?

Because you would be coming back. You knew how much danger you were in. Yes, he’d hurt your feelings, but that was a temporary setback.

So he sat there, staring at the walls, staring at nothing. Time ticked by and you still didn’t waltz through the door.

Unable to stand the mess anymore, Minseok stood to his feet and started cleaning up the place. He made sure that any glass that had been broken was swept up and all the furniture was put back in its previous place. By the end, he made the apartment spotless. Just how he liked it.

But you still weren’t back.

The sun was starting to set outside. Minseok debated over and over again whether he should go look for you. Finally, he decided to go look for you and then give you hell once he found you. The first place he went was you apartment. It was the logical place for you to go, wasn’t? Everything was exactly how you’d left it, crap everywhere and all.

“(y/n)?” he called out. “Stop throwing a fit and come out.”

Nothing.

Grumbling to himself, Minseok shuffled through the apartment, careful not to step on anything as he searched for you. The Protectors’ smell was still heavily apparent, but you were most definitely absent.

So, Minseok started hopping from place to place. He searched coffee shops that he knew you preferred, he check your old coworkers’ places, your previous employer, Mr. Kwon’s house. Hell, he even checked that damned Thomas’ place. But he still couldn’t find you.

Knowing it was useless, he was going to have to give in and ask for help.

Junmyeon was going to kill him.

The front parlor was completely empty was he arrived. Good. Now, all he needed to do was find Jongdae and sneak out of here before anyone else noticed he was back. There were three people he especially needed to avoid: Luhan, Yixing, and Junmyeon. Simple enough.

Except Jongdae wasn’t in his room. Shit.

Listening carefully, Minseok heard the loud mouth mixed with other voices. Great. Just great.

Seeing no other choice, Minseok made his way down to the library where he’d heard everyone conjugated. All he needed to do was keep why he needed Jongdae to himself and he’d be fine.

Always one give a grand entrance, Minseok opened up the doors with very little effort in staying quiet. This was just a simple gathering after all. No need to try and be subtle.

Or so he thought.

All ten of his housemates were gathered in the library talking over each other as they were huddled in a very awkward and imperfect circle. But it was the figure they were gathered around that really threw Minseok off.

The overly tall demon standing in the middle of the circle turned around to investigate the rather obnoxious noise the slamming doors had made. Damn Minseok’s pride. He had a half a mind to just teleport out of there like he’d never arrived in the first place. Okay, a quarter of a mind. But he’d never hear the end of it.

Kris smirked as he met Minseok’s glare. “Look what the cat dragged in. I’ve been hearing some interesting stories about you lately.”

Minseok narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the others. Luhan looked away, unable to meet his eye. Traitor.

“Kris, stop it,” Junmyeon ordered. “Minseok, what are you doing here?”

Acting very casual, Minseok slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I got bored in that apartment. Figured I’d come see what you were all up to.”

“So, (y/n) came back?” Luhan asked.

Minseok cleared his throat, but before he could reply, Junmyeon stepped in.

“What do you mean ‘came back’?”

After throwing Luhan a particularly nasty look, Minseok answered with his eyes glancing anywhere but his superior, “She got mad and ran off.”

Junmyeon exhaled a deeply frustrated sigh. “Why am I not surprised? At least, she’s back in the apartment where she’s safe. Right?”

Minseok took a long breath. “No, she’s not,” he admitted, finally looking at Junmyeon. “She never came back. I searched a few places. I came here to grabbed Jongdae and look again.”

Junmyeon’s jaw was fidgeting back and forth. That meant trouble. The more he tried to stay calm, the more pissed off he was. Minseok was definitely in for it.

“One request, Minseok,” he growled. “One simple charge and then you would be free to go about your business. And you managed to actually screw that up.”

Sensing danger, Jongdae stepped up and held Minseok back with a strong grip on his elbow.

“I’ll find her!” Minseok roared. He had to. He was going insane not knowing where you were. If anything happened to you–

“You’re not going to find her searching like this.”

Minseok glared daggers at Kris and his bold statement. “Is that a challenge?”

Kris wasn’t even remotely phased. “No. It’s just a fact. If you can’t find her in any of her usual spots, that only means that they have her. Humans like familiarity. Her first instinct would have been to go some place that would make her feel better. You said you already tried those places, leaving one conclusion: the Protectors got her.”

Minseok felt his entire body deflate. He couldn’t even hold onto to his pride as Jongdae struggled to hold him on his feet. No.

No.

“How do you know?” Jongdae asked for him.

“They’ve come after us a few times,” Kris explained. “They kept going on about restoring the balance. I’ve been in contact with Yixing for the past few months and we’ve been trying to track the Protectors, find out what their exact goal is. They’re trying to restore that balance between the realms by any means necessary. That could include getting rid of demon energy.”

Minseok shook his head defiantly. Looking as Yixing, he said, “I thought they were just tracking her to get to us?”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yixing answered, deep in thought. “But Protectors tracked Kris down. And tried to kill him.”

Raising an eyebrow, Minseok turned back to Kris. “Really?”

“Sorry, they didn’t succeed,” Kris said sarcastically. “But apparently when I came back from… over there, a little bit of that place attached itself to me. From what I’ve gathered, they’re trying to extract mixed souls to try and restore the balance.”

“And how’d that work out for them?”

Kris laughed just a little. “They didn’t quite get that far.”

“Too bad,” Minseok murmured. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms. “So, now what do we do? You think they have (y/n)? Okay, then. Where is she?”

“We can find her simply by following the Protectors,” Yixing answered instead. “Their scent should be easy enough to follow.”

“Great plan,” Minseok scoffed. “And then what?”

“And then you can rescue (y/n) and the two of you can live happily ever after,” Kris snickered.

“Don’t even think about it,” Junmyeon warned after taking one look at Minseok. “You throw one punch and I’m tossing you in the basement.”

Minseok reluctantly uncurled his fist. As much as he wanted to release a good swing onto Kris’ face, he’d be useless to you in that basement. And he’d be damned if he allowed someone else to go after you.

Satisfied that Minseok had restrained himself, Junmyeon sighed. “Okay. I think it best for now that we don’t all go after her. Minseok, you’ll go with Kris, Yixing, Jongdae, Tao, and Luhan. Find the girl, make sure the Protectors haven’t done anything to her, and then bring her back here. And try to do it without killing each other.”

Minseok shot him a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

Kriss rolled his eyes as he stalked out of the room. Yixing and Tao followed closely behind. Only Luhan and Jongdae waited for Minseok to head towards the doors as well.

Just as the doors shut behind them, luhan murmured. “This is going to be very interesting.”

You woke up just as suddenly as you passed out. But this time, you were lying on the floor in a cage, in a giant empty room. Maybe a basement?

The Protectors were milling about the room, aimlessly.

“Hey!” you called out as you stood to your feet. Moving slowly as your muscles work up, you leaned against the bars, trying to get their attention. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

They continued walking around, doing nothing in particular. As if they were waiting for something.

“Is anyone going to answer me?” you shouted. You rattled the bars, hoping they just might budge and let you free. No such luck.

Giving up, you sat back down on the floor. You were hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. And you hated the fact that you were just left there to let your mind wander off.

And, naturally, it went down the Minseok path.

No. Nope. Turn around.

If you kept walking that way, you were just going to cry. Like the pathetic idiot you were.

Just your luck, a door opened and footsteps echoed off the stairs, coming as a welcomed distraction. A fourth Protector entered the basement.

He looked straight at you when he said, “It’s time.”

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo demon au #exo demon!au #exo x fem reader #exo x fem!reader #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #lu han #luhan #zhang yixing #lay #kris wu #wu yifan #kim junmyeon #suho #My Soul to Burn

270 notes · View notes

flamehairedwritings · 6 years

Text

Queen of the Night

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus-Size!Female Reader

Words: 3,111

Rating: M, 16+ ONLY

A/N: Hi, there. This has been written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Full Figured Fantasy Challenge with the prompt: ‘There is no wrong way to have a body’.

It’s a very personal story so I hope you enjoy.

This story contains swearing and bad intrusive thoughts about your body.

Summary: At a Stark party, it’s up for debate who’s more uncomfortable; you or Steve Rogers.

EDIT: Read Part II here.

MASTERLIST

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

You should’ve known you’d regret it.

Yet you’d felt confident at the time.

Sexy, even, and that wasn’t something you often felt.

Oh my God, I look fucking amazing.

That had been two weeks ago when you were alone in your bedroom and the lighting had been warm and the mirror had been angled perfectly, as it always was.

Now, at Stark’s party, surrounded by bright lights, photographers and all the beautiful and elite of the city, you’re feeling very differently.

Why did I have to go with a fucking body-con.

The dress is gold, clings to you and stops just above your knees. You have no way of hiding and you so desperately want to. You can’t even leave; you’ve retreated to the furthest corner of the large room where’s it moderately quieter and where no members of the paparazzi are lurking. Even the thought of walking across the room, passing people, passing the photographers outside again, is making you sweat and your chest tighten; you have to keep switching the empty glass from one hand to the other so it won’t slip from your warm palms.

“Another one, ma’am?”

Oh, fuck off.

The waitress has returned, a full glass on her tray. She’s giving you the same look as before which she probably thinks is coming off as kindly sympathetic but it’s just pitying. Sheer, fuck-off pitying.

“Yes, thank you.” You smile politely, swapping your glass for the one she offers.

She gives the same chummy smile as before, then turns and leaves.

You release a breath and take a long sip, your gaze flicking about the room.

Everyone’s here tonight, all members of the Avengers, field agents and agents you work with in the offices, which should be comforting but is, in fact, the complete opposite.

You work with these people. You’ve all seen each other at your emotional best and worst. You’ve all seen each other without make-up, in sweats, greasy-haired, huge red spots on your faces, and no one bats an eyelid.

So why is this different?

You know why. No one’s ever seen you in anything tighter than a pant suit.

Stop feeling like shit, it’s so ridiculous.

It’s not like they don’t know you’re fat, fuller figured, plus-sized, large, curvy, whatever word people want to use to define your body, it’s not like they don’t know. It’s not some great secret. It’s just different when you’re sat at your desk helping to save lives because that’s the sole focus.

Now, here, the focus is on each other. It’s a party; people go to parties to fuck, drink and dance. It’s the only chance you all get to relax a little and let go some what. The Avengers can’t, not at these things, they have to be ‘the face’ and act accordingly, but the agents can go relatively wild. You know they’ll all be gossiping about who fucked who tomorrow.

You wonder if they’ll gossip about you, too.

It won’t be cruel. You get on with everyone you work with; you’re never without a witty comment, you’re damn good at your job and you always bring baked goods in for Friday breakfast.

It’ll be the same as the waitress, though. It’ll be pitying, grateful-it’s-not-them whispering about how brave you were to wear the dress, how proud they were that you did it. You’ve already had a few comments of ‘Yes, girl!’ and ‘Holy shit, look at you!’ from colleagues as you passed them to get to this safe corner, but it just sounded so false, too forced. Like they knew you needed the confidence boost.

Go home.

How, though? You’ve led high-risk missions on the other side of the world through an ear-piece and helped negotiate with one of the most temperamental crime lords in the world but you can’t walk across a damn room, order a damn cab and go home.

“Hey.”

Oh, thank fuck.

Turning at the quiet voice, you are welcomed by the sight of the only person in the room probably more uncomfortable than you; Steve Rogers.

And you’ve never felt more relieved.

“Hi,” you answer, matching his smile as he stands at your side, hands in his pockets and his eyes on the steadily escalating dance-off in the centre of the room; Agent Barton’s still winning.

“Not gonna show everyone how it’s done?”

“I will when you do.”

He exhales a laugh, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “I’ll let you know when hell freezes over.”

Silence falls as you sip your drink and he continues to watch his team members dance, Sam Wilson literally throwing his hat into the ring and becoming a strong contender for the winner, and it’s wonderfully comfortable.

You’ve collaborated with Steve on nearly every single one of his missions outside of the Avengers Initiative, and over that time an easy, what you dare to call friendship has formed, one born from the trust you’ve both earned from one another and the respect in your logical, like-minded way of thinking. You were also one of the few who didn’t lobby hard to collaborate with him when he joined SHIELD; sure, you’d made the application, same as everyone else because who wouldn’t want to work with Captain America, but you hadn’t gone out of your way to ‘bump’ into him during training or sent him a hand-written, 13 page letter detailing how he had inspired you to become an agent.

You were nervous before your final interview, having made it to the last three applicants, but you knew you wouldn’t think it the end of the world if you didn’t get the job. Then you’d entered the room and found you’d be having a one-to-one interview with Captain Steve Rogers.

You’d never spoken to him before, only seen him in halls and meetings, and as he rose from his chair and shook your hand, you’d tried very hard to ignore the fact you were shaking hands with a living legend and icon. Albeit a tired but very polite living legend and icon.

He didn’t want to be there but you weren’t offended; this wasn’t how he was used to doing things. He was used to being given information, being dropped into the mission zone and figuring out for himself how best to work through it. He probably wasn’t thrilled at the notion of having someone with less experience in his ear giving him updates every few minutes, making sure he ticked boxes and advising what would be best to do.

In fact, you’d told him that. That had been your opening introduction. You had no idea where it had come from. You weren’t usually that bold with superiors unless it mattered, but something in you had told you this was a time when it mattered. You’d told him that and more, saying you would guide when guidance was needed and advise when advising was needed.

He had blinked in surprise then sat back in his chair and smiled.

Since then it had been the easiest of partnerships. You trusted each other’s judgements, rarely, strongly, disagreed and you both actually, genuinely got on very well. He didn’t mind in the middle of a mission if you started talking about a TV series you were watching, and you didn’t mind that he often called you ‘Hepburn’, a nickname born from when, a couple of months into your new role, he’d told you you’d reminded him of Katharine Hepburn with your assertive opening statement.

At times he’d had to defend you to your superiors for not bringing him in when they’d advised or not reporting him when he’d done something they’d prohibited, and you had got him out of more situations than you cared to count.

You could read each other irritatingly well, so there is no doubt in your mind he knows how uncomfortable you are and the reason for it.

Great.

Drawing his eyes away after a few minutes as Sam is seemingly declared the winner, though Barton seems to just be calling a time-out, Steve looks to you.

“You seem to have done the impossible in this place and found a quiet corner.”

Oh, fuck, is he going to broach the subject now? Why did I wear this fucking dress?

You raise your eyebrows as you nod at the small table before you with an obnoxiously large floral arrangement on it which you’d been using as cover, though he’d still found you.

“I can’t take all the credit, that’s doing most of the work.”

Then, beyond the flowers, you spot a middle-aged couple whispering to each other as they near, one of them trying, and failing, to subtly either film or take a picture of Steve.

“Oh, don’t look now, we’ve been spotted, Captain,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

He exhales a quiet sigh as his teeth briefly graze over his lower lip. “I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your peace.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I was thinking of leaving now, anyway.”

Once I’d stopped being a child and made my legs work.

“Yeah, me, too.” Gazing over your head, you can see the plan he’s forming. “Come on.”

Gently tapping a finger tip against your hand, he then passes behind you and opens the door to your left.

Oh my God, that was unlocked the whole time?

Holding it open for you, he gestures with his head for you to pass through.

You don’t need telling twice.

“You memorised the layout of the place, didn’t you?”

He glances over at you, looking nowhere near as sheepish as the situation probably demands. “Well, it makes for an easier exit.”

The wind carries your laugh.

He’d taken the lead after you’d passed through the door and had known every turn to take, almost as if he’d spent the night before planning various escape routes.

Thank God.

You’d eventually come out behind the building and you’d just arched an eyebrow at him as you spotted his car parked across the street.

Again, thank God.

Then, as you’d gotten in to the car, he’d said something that was even more amazing than getting you out of there.

“You fancy getting pizza?”

“Am I ever going to say no to that?”

He’d laughed at your faux-incredulous response, but you had hesitated for a moment. Eating, in this dress, feeling as you were..?

But then you’d thought, Fuck it, I want pizza.

And that’s how you found yourself sitting on a bench with Steve, a box of pizza between you, gazing out across a lake.

“Do you want the last slice?”

You really do, but... Having had five slices, sat there in a gold dress that makes you stand out like a shining star in the night sky, you wonder for the first time what Steve thinks when he sees you.

You hate the thought as soon as it enters your head.

You’ve gotten this far without thinking it about him; you think it with nearly everyone else you see, but you’d been raised with the idea of Steve just being this golden boy who was kind to everyone, never had a bad or judgemental thought about anyone. It was rare you and Steve were really in front of each other, so much of your work was over the phone or earpiece or through video calls. Even in briefings you’d be sat at a table and you’d be carrying a pile of folders in front of you. It hadn’t crossed your mind to think about what he thought of your body, until now.

“You all right, Hepburn?”

You’re pulled from your intrusive thoughts by his question and shift your gaze over to him.

“Hm? Yeah, sure, just in a bit of a food coma, that’s all.” Even you can hear how forced your laugh is. “You have it.”

He eyes you for a moment before lifting the slice and taking a large bite.

“Thanks for escaping with me, by the way. You really have been with me every single step of the way.”

Oh, God.

This is the beginning of his roundabout, old man way of getting you to open up, you know it is.

“Nearly every step,” you counter, unable to stop a smile from forming despite yourself.

“Oh yeah,” he muses through a mouthful. “Panama. Say, where were you again?”

“In Ibiza, holidaying for the first time in ten years. You ever heard of a holiday? You should try it sometime.”

“I think I have. Wasn’t that invented in the 60s?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin as you laugh and, damn it, let your guard down.

“What’s going on, Hepburn?” he asks gently, dropping the half-eaten slice back into the box and wiping the grease from his hands. “What’s going on in that brain?”

Your smile falters as you look at him. A quiet breath you realise you’ve been holding leaves you. Looking down at your hands, you fiddle with a ring on your finger.

He waits patiently, keeping his gaze on you.

Just say it.

“Steve... What do you think when you look at me?”

It nearly kills you to say it. You don’t want to know the answer. You don’t want to listen to him. You want to be far away, back in your bedroom with three covers over you and your laptop balanced on your thighs, watching your new favourite show. You want to escape again.

Steve blinks. He hadn’t known what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I think you’re a very intelligent, debatably hilarious person who I like and I want to be around.”

Your hands pause. Your eyes flick over to him. “... That’s it?”

He blinks again, now feeling rather sheepish. “Do you want more? You are hilarious, you know, it’s not debatable and ─ “

“No,” you quickly cut him off before he gets too carried away. “Well, yes, no, I just thought...”

“You thought what?” he presses after you trail off.

Lifting your gaze to the night sky, you blow out a breath and a second after it, it all just comes out.

“My body, Steve, I thought you’d say something about my body because, you know, how could you not? I know you’re probably just being polite but, come on, it’s the first thing people see when they look at me, you know. It’s not exactly avoidable. I know how people think, Steve, even if they’re my friend they must think some bullshit sympathy thing every time they look at me, you know, people in this world can’t just look at someone for their personality and, I know, I know, I’m more than my body, it doesn’t matter what other people think, I know all that, I tell myself all of that and most days I believe it, I really do, most days I don’t care but sometimes it’s just, some days are hard, especially when I decide to wear a bright fucking gold dress that shows every part of my body and I don’t like it, I don’t like the way I look sometimes and I hate that, I hate that I just can’t... Get over it.”

Another breath rushes out of you, slightly shuddered, and you beg yourself not to cry.

Oh, God, please don’t cry, please don’t fucking cry now.

He doesn’t say anything and you can’t look at him.

Then you feel his hand gently settle over yours, seizing your hands from their playing with the ring again.

“Take it from someone who’s had two very different ones; there is no wrong way to have a body.”

You finally look at him, and it’s not pity you find in his eyes, but understanding. Real, genuine understanding.

“People are going to think bullshit things,” he continues as you stare at him, his hand remaining over yours, a gentle smile on his lips, “They’re gonna take one look at you and think they’ve got you all figured out. But none of that matters. I know it’s hard to not think about it, but they don’t know a damn thing about you, what you’re really like. Those kinds of people aren’t worth knowing, anyway. It’s never how you look but what you do and how you behave that stays with people. I know it takes some time to unlearn society’s ‘rules’ and start really learning to love yourself but it can be done.” He squeezes your hand lightly. “And I wasn’t kidding, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re kind, you’re funny, and that’s what I see when I look at you. I see the person that you are.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. His smile widens a little more as you squeeze his hand in return, your lips lifting into a smile that almost matches his.

“Thank you, Steve,” you murmur, afraid if you speak any louder that your voice might crack with emotion.

“Don’t mention it,” he answers, the pad of his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve been there.”

Clearing your throat, you feel real relief as you quietly confide, “I just wish I hadn’t worn something so tight and bright, you know.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m glad you did, Hepburn. Otherwise I would never have found you behind those damn flowers and I wouldn’t be here now with my favourite person.”

You feel your cheeks flush as you arch an eyebrow. “I’m your favourite person, huh?”

“Yeah, you are.” You think you see the faintest hint of colour rise on his own cheeks as he releases your hand and sits back. “I look forward to talking to you every day. Even when you ramble on about the Netflix.”

You laugh as he smiles, knowing that gets you every damn time.

“Y’know, now that you mention it, last night I started a show─”

“Okay, all right.” Steve closes the pizza box and wipes his hands on his thighs, feigning a sigh of resignation. “Before you start and I can’t get a word in, I think this calls for sundaes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Always gotta have dessert.” Getting to his feet, he turns to you, then pauses, and a corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other.

“Oh, God, what? Is there sauce on my face?”

“No, you’re fine, Hepburn,” he laughs as your hands fly up to your face. “Just look like the damn queen of the night is all.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as your cheeks flush again. “Oh...” Clearing your throat, you smile as you tilt your head. “That how you talk to all the girls back in the day, huh?”

He laughs as you get to your feet, holding out his hand to you. “No, that one’s just for you.”

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future work!

Tagged: @fearandloathing-in-missouri, @persephone-divine, @jobean12-blog, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

#star's full figured fantasy #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers #my writing #flamehairedwritings #captain america #captain america x female reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction

253 notes · View notes

yuniesan · 5 years

Text

Girl Meets Season 6 - Episode Seventeen – Girl Meets Us Against the World

Synopsis: The Journey from High School and into College will test everything Riley knew about her life, her friendships and her love. What life lessons will she learn in her first year of college?

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

A/N: Gods this was hard to write, but it needed to be written. I know that a lot of people don't say anything, they don't trust that their voices would be heard. Remember your voice can be as loud as you want it to be, because no one has the right to take anything from you without consent.

I didn't give names to the other girls, because I wanted them to reflect all of the victims that remain unnamed because of fear, because they think that the system wouldn't do anything, because they couldn't remember anything other than pieces and feared being called a liar.

Now excuse me while I go and write something fluffy for tomorrow.

Episode Seventeen – Girl Meets Us Against the World

Riley was in the hospital for the night as they checked her out, it had taken her a while to calm down after her parents had arrived. Lucas always standing nearby, which was a comfort all on its own for her because it meant that he wasn’t trying to find the guy who had attacked her. Her hand bandaged because the punch had caused her to break two fingers on the guy’s jaw, her wrists hurt, and her head was throbbing. There was too much going on, too much pain, too much thinking, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in her room, Lucas next to her when she noticed the bruises on her wrists, they were faint, but she knew that they would only get worse as the day went on. The police had taken her statement, they had taken Lucas’s statement since he had been the one to call 911. They talked to her parents, all before leaving saying that they would continue to look into the matter.

Her parents were nearby, she could hear her mother talking on the phone, the small breeze every time her father paced the room. But all Riley could see were the bruises on her wrists, the feel of his hands on her as he pushed her into the stairwell. Even though she had fought back, it still felt like a violation, the marks were on her body as a reminder. She survived this, like everything else that had come her way, but it frightened her that it had happened because she had talked to people about keeping safe. The fact that she naturally wanted to help people stay safe, had caused her to become a victim and it hadn’t felt right to her. This wasn’t supposed to happen just because she was trying to keep others from becoming victims.

Lucas didn’t touch her which only made her feel like she had been tainted in some way, even though she was sure that he was just giving her time to get through it. But for some reason her mind was telling her other things, she was overthinking everything, she didn’t feel like herself, it felt like she wasn’t even in her own body. She was crying again just because she felt cold and there was nothing, she could do about it, even though she had a blanket around her, she shivered. It was shock, she knew that, but it felt wrong, she just wanted to be the happy person she always had been, she wondered how long it would take to get back to that place.

It wasn’t until the heaving came where she jumped up and ran out the door towards the bathroom, throwing up everything that she had eaten in the last day into the toilet, where she felt like all she could do was fall apart. She jumped when she heard the bathroom door open, even though she was dry heaving into the toilet.

“Riley,” Lucas said to her, and she knew he would get in trouble for being in the girl’s bathroom, but just having him close was find with her, if that was all she could get. “If it’s okay with you I’m going to touch you.”

When she nodded, she felt his hand move her hair from her face, as he rubbed slow circles on her back. She leaned into his warmth for a minute, as the feeling of throwing up slowly stopped, when she sat back, she grabbed onto his shirt and held on to him. The one comfort she had at the moment, and she knew that when her friends found out they would be running towards her too. But all she wanted was for Lucas to be there next to her, holding onto her, to feel safe instead of feeling like someone had just taken everything from her and left her hollow.

A wash cloth was slowly rubbed on her face as she closed her eyes, she could smell her mother’s perfume, which meant that she was nearby. She hadn’t realized just how tired she was until she fell asleep there in Lucas’s arms as her mother cleaned her face.

Lucas was furious, he was holding back his anger because every time he looked at Riley and saw that empty look in her eyes, he couldn’t help but want to hold onto her, but he wasn’t sure if she would let him. When she had run off, he went after her because he couldn’t hold back anymore, he wanted to protect her more than anything. Even though he knew that she could protect herself, but he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to handle the situation without finding the guy and beating him within an inch of his life.

He carried her to her bed and laid her down, but when he went to pull away, she had grabbed onto his hand. She was seeking comfort, and he knew it, but he was afraid that him being so close would trigger something.

“Don’t leave,” she said in her sleep addled state.

“I’ll only leave if you tell me to,” he told her getting as close as he could with her parents there, sitting on the bed while she put her head on his lap, never letting go of his hand. Watching as her father paced the room again once she had settled down.

Her mother had left the room to make another phone call, she had been on the phone from the moment they had gotten back from the hospital. Lucas slowly traced the slowly forming bruises on Riley’s wrist, trying to make her feel his hands and not the memory of what had happened to her before she had run into him. He wasn’t sure about everything that had happened, only hearing pieces of conversations between Riley and the police, or the conversation she had had with her mother in the hospital after she had broken down.

He was angry, but he also knew that Riley wanted him to stay calm, she needed him to be there for her in the same way she was always there for him. No Texas Lucas, just Lucas. So, he sat there and held onto her hand, running his other hand through her hair as he listened to her breathing as it slowed until he was sure that she was finally asleep. Mrs. Matthews walked in through the door, looking at them with a grim look on her face, he knew that the lawyer in her would do anything to protect her daughter, from how she looked he also knew that a storm was brewing.

“He’s saying that Riley had been the one to attack him,” she said to Lucas and Riley’s father. Lucas saw red, he wanted to find the guy and make him pay, but Riley’s hand in his kept him grounded as he breathed through the anger coursing through him. “He showed up at the police station and filed a report, the school is getting involved in this too, because of who his parents are because they have influence here, which means we’re in for a fight.”

“But Topanga, she has bruises on her wrists, she has one on her head and her fingers are broken from fighting back, what else would they need to know that he’s done something wrong?” her father questioned, looking at his wife with a sad look on his face. “I know this could have happened anywhere else she could have gone, but it still hurts to think that it happened here.”

“Yes, I know that Cory, but right now I have to make sure that this is something that we can handle without it blowing back on her,” Lucas heard her say. “We need other people to come forward, we need people who are willing to stand at her side, because I need as many people who have been in the same situation with him as the perpetrator before I can take this in front of a judge, and even then, he could use the time to smear her name. This isn’t something that’s going to be quiet.”

“Is this school so worried about their donors, that they would overlook something like this happening to their students?”

“No, because the current law protects Riley, but anything beyond that might be a fight that we have to be ready for or else it’s going to have a huge blowback.”

The room was quiet after that, everyone not saying anything, Lucas just listening to Riley breathe, while she held onto him. He needed to be strong because he needed to keep her safe, sometimes he wishes that he could go back to that debate class from freshman year of high school and hold onto that innocent part of Riley. Just for a little while, but he knew she still existed under the strong woman she had become. In the end he was sure that she would take this moment and fight with everything inside of her, and he would be right there standing next to her, because he was going to be stronger for her. He wasn’t going to fight others, all he was going to do was help her fight for herself and be there when she needed him.

Riley hadn’t been sleeping when her parents were talking, she had just wanted to feel Lucas next to her, the comfort was enough, almost like he was recharging her and that she would get up and use that energy to fight everyone who tried to make her seem like this was all just some random act and nothing more.

She didn’t move at all until the door to her room swung open and hit the wall, making her jump up, remembering the banging sound on the door as Lucas called 911. Her heart was racing and she didn’t know if she could do anything other than cling to Lucas’s arm, as her friends all walked in, smiling at one another. It was then that she realized that no one had called them to tell them what had happened, and she was pretty sure that her parents and Lucas thought the same thing.

“My brother,” Josh said with a smile that died the moment his eyes landed on Riley who was curled up against Lucas trying to find a way to make herself smaller.

The rest of them turned to see what he was looking at, and the room descended into chaos, as everyone asked what had happened. Somehow the room full of people made her a little shy all of a sudden, even though they were all friends and family. Lucas took her hand and slowly rubbed small circles on her palm, slowly calming her down. Riley’s parents closed the door and made everyone sit, but none of them sat next to Riley or Lucas, the bed was theirs and theirs alone at that moment, almost as if anyone getting closer would trigger something for Riley.

“Can someone tell us what happened?” Maya asked, a worried look on her face, Josh put his arm around her as she looked to everyone in the room. “I mean everything was fine yesterday when I left you at the library.”

“Maya,” her mother said sighing as if she knew that this would be one of the hardest conversations she would have with someone that wasn’t a client, or like the conversation she had had with Riley before they had sent her off to college. “We have to explain this to you all, but none of you are allowed to react too loudly, Riley’s still a little frayed because of it.”

Sam looked over at her, as realization dawned on her face, “Oh my god, the rumors about the attacks,” she whispered out loud.

Smackle and Maya were the first to react, both looking between Sam and Riley, slowly remembering that conversation so long ago. The weeks Riley spent talking to other girls about safety and protection against something happening.

“But nothing had happened in weeks,” Smackle said her voice calm, but there was something there, a pain that Riley could hear.

“Riles,” Maya said her voice soft, “Honey, please tell me you’re okay.”

Riley knew that Maya was scared, they had all been safe, they had all made sure that nothing would happen, because college was supposed to be an experience for them all. It hurt for Riley to see the sadness in all of their faces, the guys unsure of what to say, the girls all knowing that it had been a possibility with all of the rumors that had been going around campus about the possibility of someone going after girls.

“Nothing happened,” Riley said, her voice low as if she were afraid that if she talked any louder than her attacker would come back. Lucas squeezed her hand, reassuring her, even though she still felt scared about what had happened.

Her mother spent the next ten minutes telling everyone in the room about what had happened, sending Riley and Lucas out of the room. Riley had grabbed her toothbrush and her hairbrush and went to the bathroom while Lucas stood by the door and talked about stupid things just to keep her company. She knew that she would have to keep reliving what had happened but for just a small moment she just wanted peace and quiet.

It would take two weeks before Riley felt safe enough to go to her classes without having Lucas right next to her, helping her. She was alright with being with someone at all times, but she knew that they all had their lives and needed to keep going. In those two weeks, her attacker had started a smear campaign against her, one that her mother had drafted out a defamation law suit against.

“No one messes with my kid,” her mother had said to her when they had had lunch on Friday. Which had now become something she looked forward to each week, because it meant getting to know her mother through a different lens.

It reminded her of that time in high school were that girl didn’t like her, and how angry her mother had gotten over it. It was strange, because they had had their ups and downs as mother and daughter over the years, but this had brought them closer together.

Riley had been sitting in the library waiting for Lucas to come pick her up when someone approached her. For a minute every instinct in her wanted to stand up and hide somewhere, but she stood her ground and found herself face to face with two girls who she had only ever spoken to once during the Fall semester.

“Hi,” she said trying to sound cheerful, but failing, it was hard getting back to her old self, but she was trying to find a middle ground.

“Hi, you’re Riley right?” the red headed girl said, and when Riley nodded the girl pushed her friend forward and made her sit. “We need to talk.”

They talked for half an hour, Riley finding out that the shy one, had once been a vibrant junior at the school, until one day she had gone to a party, and had woken up behind a dumpster, with bruises on her body and the feeling of something wet between her legs. And even though she had reported it to the school, and to the police nothing came out of it because she couldn’t remember what had happened. Her only memory was the same guy that had attacked Riley being really sweet to her one minute and then nothing the next.

“We’re not the only ones,” she said tears in her eyes. “No one will listen to us because his family is powerful, and they donate millions to the school.”

Riley felt something stir inside of her, hearing what she was saying, she remembered being that girl in high school and middle school, fighting for the girls to be noticed as something other than eye candy for the boys, for girls to show they had an interest in STEM subjects. For girls to be allowed to be at the same level as boys. No one had the right to reduce them to this, and she felt that urge to fight grow within. She asked them to gather everyone they knew had been attacked by this person, never calling him by his name because why should he have agency over them and bringing them to her room. Calling her mother as she told them this, they set up a time, right before those big Friday night parties, so that they could meet and discuss this with her mother in the room.

Riley wanted to fight, and if it was just them against the whole world she would fight because that’s what her mother had taught her to do, that’s what she always tried to inspire in her friends, in her classmates, in the world. She wanted them to fight for their right to be heard, for the world to know what was happening, so that they were no longer stuck in the back hiding because someone was more powerful than they were.

Lucas picked her up just as they finished their talk, the girls shying away from him as he stood next to her. Lucas never touching Riley, until she reached out for him first, he had been giving her the option a lot, and while she missed the way they had been, she was grateful that he was a kind person who would consider her feelings before his own. Riley introduced him, telling them that he was a good person, he walked them all back to the dorms, dropping them off one by one, making sure that everyone was safe. He didn’t complain about it, because Riley knew that he was the kind of person who would do anything to help others. She had learned this from what had happened between him and Zay, from what had happened when she had been bullied, or when Farkle had been bullied. This was who he was, and she was proud of him for being able to get past his own issues to help people.

Once they were in her room she told him what she had talked to the girls about, and he had offered to help her in anyway, even if it meant staying out of the room while the whole conversation happened.

“Thank you, Lucas,” she said smiling at him, for once it had felt like the real her was slowly coming back out. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done, and not just these last few weeks but for everything that we’ve been through over the years, because you are one of the most special people in my life, and you’ve helped me become a stronger person.”

“Anything for you Riley, anything,” he said with a smile pulling her in for a hug. “Because you’ve made me a better person.”

They stood there for a moment, just being with one another, in this moment, because she knew that there was a real fight brewing. Not between them, but between Riley and the world hell bent on making her college experience a living hell.

Riley’s mother had organized a team of lawyers, all female, to work on what they had planned out, every girl that had come had signed paperwork to protect their identities, they signed orders against the person who had gone after them, they wrote down everything that had happened and the ones who had reported it to the police or had gone to the hospital brought all the records with them.

Lucas stood watch in the hallway, because he knew that the person who had attacked Riley and had later accused her of assault, lived in her dorm, even though they had filed a motion to have him removed because she hadn’t felt safe with him around. The school had ignored the request, going against the law, which was there to protect Riley. To them the whole thing was a he said she said situation, and they had only advised mediation and nothing else. So, Lucas was always around, keeping an eye on things, making sure that Riley was protected.

The mounting evidence, and the fact that her mother was a top attorney, and a scary one at that, had finally caused not only the school but the police to look into the claims. The news stations had started to pick up on the story as more victims had come forward. They were all protected against being exposed, but Riley was still scared because she didn’t want this to force her into the public light. All the articles named the victims by letter, but Riley being the only one who hadn’t been drugged had been forced to reveal more than any of the others. She was ready to fight, she knew it was going to be hard, she had seen how the world treated victims, but she didn’t want anyone else to fall prey to this one person any longer.

Everything ended fast, mainly because her mother was really Godzilla like her father had called her, she was fierce and protective, but she was also the first to slam all the evidence and affidavits down on the police sergeants desk, and later the dean of the college’s desk. Telling them that if they didn’t do anything about it they would have their little corner of the world turned upside down the minute everything hit the national news circuit.

Her attacker was expelled a week later after the story hit the internet, with people criticizing how the school had handled the whole thing, going all the way back to when the first attack had been reported. Pictures of Riley’s injuries out there for the world to see, the only thing not visible was her face. She had written the article herself, under the same name she had written all the other articles she had done during her days on the writing magazine. She wrote about how hard it had been to fight against the person who had attacked her, and how it took a while before she could get the feeling of their hands out of her mind, she wrote paragraph after paragraph on the other victims, and how everyone had failed them. She wanted to know that if it was going to be them against the world, then the world was going to know their story.

This was when she finally started feeling normal again, because she knew that she had the power to change something, even if it took a long time to achieve it. Something she had learned from her mother, the fierce New York attorney.

#girl meets season 6 #rucas #rucas fanfic #rucas fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

maxattack-powell · 6 years

Text

Winter Break - Game Day (Part II)

Winter Break - Game Day (1-17g PART II)

***This is an original fic that fits in between the Luxury Date special and Book 2/Chapter 1 (1-17g) in my masterlist)***

Masterlist - go here for other chapters and related original fics

Disclaimer: The following are fics (adaptations from actual game chapters AND original works) to Choices: The Freshman and The Sophomore stories. It is a fictional adaptation. I do not work for Pixelberry Studios, the game developer or own the rights to the characters Chris Powell, Nicole or any other IN GAME character. All of the ORIGINAL characters, storylines and events were developed for my adaptation of The Freshman story.

Comments: I enjoyed playing Choices The Freshman… and then I found this awesome group of people and their works - I’ve loved it all, very much so. Deciding that I wanted more interaction than the options allowed, I’ve gone through the first book, chapter by chapter (omg painfully slow) to follow the story (95-99% I’d say) and add to it as I felt would benefit. Now I am doing the same to Book 2 as well.

Basically, I wanted to include certain things that weren’t really full fic worthy, adding more substance to the story. However, I did add some full size fic moments also… some are included in cannon chapters and some are their own full chapters in between. I wanted to see MC and Chris through their freshman year… with more angst, fluff, sweetness, real life and overall detail. So, if you like that pairing then you’ll be satisfied, otherwise sorry James & Kaitlyn fans lol. I even added some parts from Chris’s POV, so that we have a chance to see what he’s thinking, knowing what she experienced.

NSFW moments possible - Mature Readers Only Please

Paring: MC x Chris

POV: ~MC~ or ~Chris~

CONTINUED FROM HERE...

~Chris~

They pause as they step away from the gate, trying to locate the area they know their friends will be in. Once they find the correct section, they start cutting through the crowd. Not wanting to get separated, Chris reaches for her hand and she quickly wraps hers around his before he gives her a warm smile and a light squeeze.

When they find their group, Ethan notices their arrival within seconds. His eyes lock onto Chris’s first, glancing at their hands, and then up to MC’s eyes, who are currently trained on Chris. Chris sees Ethan give him a knowing smirk and he sends back a look to imply keeping his mouth shut. Ethan holds his hands up innocently, while Chris smirks at him, knowing he's really not the one to worry about. He hears him then, his rowdy raven haired friend who was standing just a few feet away, once again in some type of competition with Logan. This time it looks like hot-dogs.

Ethan walks over to Chris and MC, putting his arm around MC’s shoulders, asking if she’s cold or needs anything while Chris finds Coach Cohen to make sure he knows they have arrived. Luckily for them, splitting up at that moment makes it easier to blend in, not drawing enough attention to some of the others, including Ryan. Once Chris checks in, he pats Ryan and Logan on the shoulders, making his presence known before he finishes his rounds and heads back to Ethan and MC.

The group spends the next 5-6 hours running around the tailgate party. They all had Rookie Pre-Game Tickets for the tailgate party, which meant they had unlimited access to all food and nonalcoholic drinks. There was also live music such as multiple DJs, sports broadcasts running live they could watch and even participate in, and many games to choose from.

The Hartfeld group would split into smaller groups occasionally, some running off to play games or hit up the buffet again. But no matter who was doing what, Chris and MC were together. Chris wouldn't let her get too far from him, and if someone inadvertently split them up, they would quickly find each other, their hands finding one another, making sure it wouldn't happen again.

They along with Ryan, Ethan, Logan and Madison often went together, searching for games to play during the tailgate party. Ryan and Logan would usually become very competitive, no matter what the game was, making the others laugh at their crazy antics. Chris smiles, realizing that he’s missed his two best friends since leaving Cherryfield. He really, really misses them, and he hopes they can find a way to get them to Hartfeld next year.

As the hours pass, he watches as his two old friends become more acquainted with the other members of the team. Ethan finds one of their quieter tackles to talk to, and from what Chris can tell, their conversation ranges from music to their goals in school, and even after. Hearing some on the last subject makes Chris think a little about his future as well. If he will play football forever, meaning going Pro. Or, if he will focus on his school career, needing to decide which direction he wants to go. He knows one thing for sure, as he turns to look at the woman standing next to him, still wrapped in the blanket he put on her earlier and tucked under his arm, gushing about something with Madison.

Chris knows that he wants her to be there, wants to be with her, no matter what happens, no matter where they end up. He wants it to be the two of them. He knows that he's still young, and he's talking about forever with someone who’s the same age, but everything keeps telling him that it's supposed to be this way. He never felt that way with Nicole. The thought makes him relax, knowing he doesn't need to worry. He's going to live a good life and enjoy it.

She must sense something as he looks at her endearingly, turning her head to lock her hazel eyes on his blues. MC flashes him a sweet smile, a faint tint of pink creeping on her cheeks as they both seem to think back to a few hours prior. As she pulls her lip in to fuss with it, he reaches down and grasps her chin, pulling her lips to his briefly, not wanting to draw too much attention but also needing to taste her again. It had been too long since he did last.

~Coach~

The stadium finally opens after a few hours, allowing everyone to enter and get settled in. Coach Tim Cohen collects collects his group and they make their way inside. As they head towards their section midway down the field, he sees something familiar. Or a someone, actually. He pauses and watches her for a moment, the woman he met the night before. He recalls her name as he remembers their conversations late into the morning. She said her name was Alisa, but he wasn't sure if that was real as she had been somewhat aloof when the conversation became more personal.

Now he knows why. He stands there for a moment as his team congregates around him, waiting for direction. That's when she looks up, noticing the cluster of red and black that seems to grow close by. Their eyes meet and she gives him an awkward smile. He doesn't respond, instead turns to his group and tells them where their block of seats should be close by. Everyone scatters and he turns back around, finding her eyes immediately.

He takes a few steps to stand right against the railing, raising his eyebrow as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Tim’s body language implies his unspoken question.

She lets out a sigh and walks over stand in front of him, looking up at him with her big green eyes from her lower position on the field. “Hello again, Coach Cohen.”

“So, you knew who I was last night when you approached me.” It wasn't a question, but a statement, and it wasn't up for debate. His face was expressionless as his gaze moved around her face.

She gives him a small smile and looks around the immediate area before she speaks. “Yes, I did.”

He nods. “Looking for a story I suppose?”

She smirks and looks away for a second before turning her eyes back up to his. “No, although... getting one from you would greatly help my career.”

She watches his face as he contemplates her words. He’s not sure what her angle is, but he’s curious. “I typically don't talk to anyone when I’m near the field. Even when they seem like an a average fan or something, because they usually turn out to be a reporter digging for dirt.”

Alice shifts her weight on her tall heels as she stands her ground, “That’s not why I approached you last night. But I’m getting the impression that you won't believe anything I say anyway.”

Tim stands there quietly for a moment, trying to determine if she was being genuine. Last night they had talked for quite a while, and even though he didn't know she was a reporter at the time, she seemed like she was being honest and open with him. Now he wasn't sure, but he was curious to find out.

“Is your name actually Alisa?” He cocks his eyebrow as he places his hands on the railing, leaning forward a little.

“Yes. Technically. My name Alisa,is the Russian form of Alice. As in Alice Bell, my on-air name and I cover college sports for NESN.” She holds her hands up, empty palms. “Anything else?”

He holds her gaze, noting how bold she is as she’s clearly not going to tuck tail and run from this situation. “My team and I are here to get them pumped for next season and have a good time. We’re not here for anything else.”

She nods. “Understood. I wasn't planning on it, just FYI.”

He stands back straight and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thank you.” He pauses as their eyes stay locked. “Good luck tonight, Alisa.”

A small smirk appears on her face, making him fight to stop his own from appearing. He’s not entirely successful though, as the corner of his left side curls slightly as he turns to head back to his team.

~Chris~

The Hartfeld group finds their seats with enough time to get settled, grab whatever they need and be ready by the time the game begins. It’s an exciting game as both teams in the championship had impressive seasons this year. Even the analysts were unsure who was going to win, as there was no clear leader.

Chris grins as he looks around the immediate seats, seeing his friends and teammates ecstatic and having a great time. There was so much energy coursing through everyone that he could feel it himself. MC was even jumping around as insane plays pulled through and absurd interceptions occurred. The teams were good, but there were still moments that were unbelievable during the game, making the fans in the stands anxious and excitable.

He turns to look at MC and lets out a happy chuckle. Her face is almost split in two as she pumps her fist in the air as their favored team makes another touchdown. She turns to him and flashes him her big smile, making his stomach flip. He shakes his head and reaches over, pulling her to his side. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head against his chest as he rubs her back.

Ryan and Ethan are on his other side, both almost as energetic as MC was moments before. They are really into the game, yelling at players and referees with the coaches when ridiculous calls are made. When something works out well the guys all share high fives and cheer for the specific players involved. Halftime comes and everyone splits off to take care of whatever they need for a few minutes.

Coach Cohen turns from his spot near his seat and calls to Chris. “Powell! Come over here for a minute.”

Chris gives MC’s hand a squeeze before he leaves her to see what Coach needs. “What’s up Coach?” He looks at him curiously.

“I need you to come with me for a few minutes. There’s someone I want you to talk to.” He starts to walk down the aisle but stops when he sees Chris hesitate and look back at MC, not wanting to leave her alone as their friends were not currently at their seats.

Coach smirks and taps Chris on the shoulder. “What are you doing? Go get her. She can come with.”

Chris immediately relaxes as he turns his head to MC, instantly finding her eyes. He gestures for her to come down to him so she stands and carefully steeps around people as she makes her way towards him. When she gets there Coach nods at her and turns, heading to an undisclosed location.

MC looks at Chris and he wraps his arm around her shoulder before he kisses her on the head. “He said there was someone he wanted me to talk to or something… but I didn't want to leave you alone.”

She scrunches up her nose and wraps her arm around his waist as she kisses him on the cheek, avoiding the bill of his hat. He smirks at her as they follow Coach Cohen. After a few minutes they arrive at a closed door on which Coach knocks. It swings open and the person quickly recognizes Coach Cohen and lets him in.

The person points over towards the side of the room, Chris realizing they are now in one of the stadiums luxury boxes. There are quite a few people moving around, so Chris doesn't immediately see the tall man in the corner, but the tall man sees them and excuses himself from his immediate circle as he heads over. Chris sees Coach Cohen holding out his hand first, then sees Russell Thibbs as he grasps the offered hand and they shake.

“Good to see you again Russell.” His Coach greets the tall running back with ease.

Russell nods. “You too, Coach. How did your season go?”

“Pretty good for inheriting a partial team. They worked hard, good group of guys. Next year will be a whole different story, I’m telling you.” He nods as they end the handshake.

Coach Cohen turns sideways, reaching towards Chris, beckoning him to join them. Chris appears slightly apprehensive but moves with confidence as he walks over, unsure of the reason for his being here. His left hand is still grasping MC’s and as he moves closer. She must feel him tense as he gets closer because she gives his larger hand a soft squeeze that he quickly returns. When he joins their small circle she tucks in a little behind his large arm to not intrude too much as he reaches out with his right hand, firmly grasping Russell's.

“It’s good to see you again, Chris. You had a hell of a year for a freshman.” He gives Chris a warm smile as he shakes the quarterbacks hand with some weight.

“Thank you, sir. It was a little unexpected, but I loved it. I’m thankful that I could step in and help the team out in a time of need.” Chris replies with calm maturity.

“That’s why I brought you here Chris. Russell and I agree, you have a lot of potential.” Coach gives him an even stare.

Chris feels MC squeeze his hand, silently agreeing with them both. He quickly glances to her and tries not to grin.

Russell nods. “We really do. Coach Cohen here knows a good quarterback when he sees one, being one of the best the college circuit has ever seen, and I know a future professional when I see one.”

Chris’s eyes go wide as his mouth opens slightly, clearly surprised at the praise he was receiving. “I… I don't know what to say. Thank you. I was just trying to do the right thing. My Cherryfield High Coach helped me understand what it means to be a good friend, a reliable ball player and a supportive Captain.”

“Exactly. Which brings up another point I wanted to mention to you. With Darren graduating this year, we are not only losing our starting quarterback, but our Team Captain as well.”

Chris remains silent as he watches his coach and waits.

“From what I’ve heard from the guys this season, chances are good that you are going to be voted in. Are you ready for that? I know you were Captain at Cherryfield, but this will be a little different.” Coach Cohen gives him a serious but supportive look.

Thibbs nods his head. “Coach is right. It's going to be a lot of work, take a lot of time, but I personally think you're built to handle it. Like I said, you have the potential to go Pro if you want to. You just need to do the work.”

Chris smiles and nods at them both. “I understand. If I am voted in for Captain, I will not let Hartfeld down.”

Coach nods and smiles at Chris as he pats him on the shoulder.

Russell reaches out to shake Chris’s hand again, “Glad to hear it. I know you’ll do well with it.”

He shifts his gaze to Chris’s left and greets MC. “It’s great to see you again, as well. I apologize for not greeting you sooner. I was on a mission.”

Russell lets out a warm laugh and she smiles while shaking her head softly. “Thank you, but no worries. It was important.”

“I’m glad to see Chris has some serious support. He’s going to need it if he decides to pursue this career. Having a solid personal life and stable family structure is really important in our world. My wife and girls are my foundation. I can already tell that you two make a stable unit together.” He tips his head to them both.

Chris turns to look at MC, who he realizes is already looking at him with a warm smile on her lips. He can't help but grin as he squeezes her hand again with a grin. “I couldn't agree more Mr. Thibbs.”

Russell laughs softly. “Just call me Russell, son. We’re all friends here.”

The three stay with Russell in the box for a while, enjoying the luxuries until the trailing team makes a touchdown, creating an uproar through the crowd. Coach thanks Russell again for his hospitality and motions for Chris and MC to follow him back to their assigned seats. When they arrive, Ryan and Ethan give him a curious look.

He just smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry, had to hang with my new friend Russell Thibbs for a few.”

They both immediately perk up, knowing exactly who he's talking about, Ryan gasps and looks offended. “And you didn't take us with you?!”

“Next time, next time…” Chris smirks at his jealous friend.

They watch the rest of the game on pins and needles. Not because anyone was rooting for a particular team, but because the game was all over the place. It turned out to be one of the most exciting games any of them had ever seen.

Chris pulls MC to stand in front of him with barely enough room for them to fit. He encases her with his muscular arms while she's wrapped the blanket, easily warming her up with his body heat. With her height being close to his, he doesn't have to lean down far to rest his chin on her shoulder, tucking his nose into the crook of her neck. She squirms a little, making Chris take note of the location for future use. He grins into her warming skin as he kisses her neck. He spends the rest of the game with her in his arms.

~Coach~

The game ends with a magical touchdown and the crowd rushes the field, the excitement taking over as strangers hug and cheer. Coach yells to the group, telling them to meet at the bus in 30 minutes before telling them to scram and have a good time. They quickly disburse, some thanking him as the run down the steps as others such as Ryan and Ethan climb over rows of seats to quickly reach the field. He chuckles and shakes his head before taking his time to get on the field.

Once there, he looks around, searching for a particular face. It doesn't take him long to find her, as she's interviewing one of the winning players, her face bright and friendly as he excitedly answers all of her questions.

He waits nearby, interacting with fans when they recognize him, taking selfies and signing random objects as the time passes. When he receives a lull in attention, he turns to glance in her location again, but she's gone. He frowns slightly and crosses his arms, unsure how he missed her leaving.

Coach Cohen shakes his head once, deciding he should head towards the bus so he wouldn't break his own rule. However, before he can take a step he hears someone clear their throat. He freezes, instantly knowing who it was. He turns his head to his left, finding her standing next to him, a small smirk on her face.

“Did you want to do an interview, Coach?” She slowly turns her confident emerald eyes to his.

He shakes his head and laughs through a small smile. “You sure you're a reporter? You look like you should attending the games, not interviewing for them.”

She tries to hide her blushing smile, as professionalism is key. But it's hard to ignore the obvious complement. “Yep, I really am. And thank you for that. It can be a tough world out here… they expect so much from us sometimes. Feels good to know someone noticed.”

She shoots him a joyful smile and he clears his throat. “Ah, well. It’s hard not to notice, to be honest.” A small lopsided smile appears on his face as they both stare out across the field.

Coach Cohen invites her to join him and the group, as they had plans for a late night dinner to end their trip. She eyes him for a moment, making him narrow his eyes as he looks back at her, playfully questioning her hesitation. Alisa laughs and eventually accepts the offer with a smile as they head towards the bus.

~Chris~

Chris is with his friends and MC somewhere in the middle of the joyous crowd. Everyone around them is laughing and cheering, euphoria is everywhere. He can feel the excitement coursing through his own body, as if he had played in the game himself. He glances at the woman in his arms and feels his heart skip a little, her own excitement from the night clearly evident on her face. She catches him staring at her and flashes him a huge grin.

He can’t take it anymore, instantly grabbing both sides of her face before he crushes his lips to hers. She instantly reaches up and hooks her arms around his neck before she tugs him even closer and deepens the kiss. No one notices their affection in the large swirling crowd. When they break apart for air he quickly checks the time.

He pulls back slightly but leaves his arms circled tightly around her waist. “We gotta go if we want to get to the bus on time.”

She nods and they find their friends in the crowd before heading towards the bus. Everyone miraculously makes it back in time, much to Chris’s surprise. As they load up he notices the woman from the previous night sitting near the front, talking to Coach as he stands near the driver.

When they make it to their seats, MC leans over him to look at the pair near the front. “Oh, what's this, I wonder…”

She wiggles her eyebrows at Chris. He laughs and playfully pushes her back to her own seat, receiving a bite on his shoulder in response.

The bus drops everyone off at the predetermined restaurant and they all head inside, their reserved table ready and waiting for them in one of the side rooms. They spend almost two hours there eating, rehashing the game, dreaming about what it would be like to play at nationals and generally having a good time. As everyone waits for their checks, Logan throws out the idea of going back to Envy.

Ryan is quick to support his idea, turning to Ethan and narrowing his eyes. “You're going tonight, Clark.”

Ethan just laughs and shrugs, giving into his friend as he was just as keyed up as everyone else. Chris turns to look at MC, both still seated with his arm around the back of her chair. He gives her a questioning look, checking to see if she was interested. She scrunches up her nose a little, her lips in a playful half frown-half smile. He chuckles and nods, instantly agreeing with her. They haven't been alone since this morning, so now is the perfect time to get some time while everyone else stays out a little while longer.

Once everyone heads outside, Chris lets his friends know he and MC are going back to the hotel, telling them that they are exhausted from their morning run and will catch up with everyone in the morning. Ryan and Ethan don't say a word as they look at each other before simultaneously turning back to Chris, giving him the same ‘Sure, Jan’ look. Chris rolls his eyes and punches Ethan in the shoulder, making him fold slightly at the contact with a painful grimace. Ryan takes a few steps back when Chris turns his gaze to him, making the quarterback smirk.

He pulls her close as they say goodbye to everyone, nodding at Coach after he hears they are going to go back. Chris notices MC yawn a few times as they cross the last block towards their hotel. He studies her face and sees how tired she really is. He stops then, tugging her back when she doesn't immediately notice, more proof of her current state of exhaustion. She looks at him curiously and he gives her a small smile before kissing her softly. It’s a quick kiss and over before she realizes.

Chris turns and takes a knee, glancing over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

She tilts her head. “What? Why…”

“You're about to fall asleep MC. Hurry up and get on before someone thinks you turned my proposal down and I end up on YouTube. I’m serious!” He smirks at her and she laughs before swatting his shoulder and climbing on.

He feels her sigh into his broad shoulders as she snuggles as close as she can, burrowing her face into the side of his neck, her blanket flowing like a cape behind them as he stands. He adjusts his arms under her thighs, giving them a little squeeze, receiving a reciprocal affectionate kiss on the neck. Chris wills his body to calm down as her close proximity makes his heart rate increase, his blood heat and his stomach flip. He manages to contain the strong feelings the last block of the walk and even into the elevator.

MC shifts when she realizes where they are, pointing her boot out, aiming for floor buttons. Chris laughs and guides her pointed toe to the right floor, giving her leg another squeeze. He carries her all the way to her room and she slowly slides down his back when he stops.

He groans at the feeling and turns to face her. “Will you sleep with me tonight? Like seriously, just sleep…” He gives her a bashful smile, hoping she will say yes.

MC playfully taps on her chin, making him sigh and shake his head while he lets out a quiet chuckle. She doesn't say a word as she turns to the door and pulls her room key from her pocket, quickly slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Chris stands there for a moment, somewhat confused. He blinks a few times and runs his hand through his hair before resting it on the back of his neck. Just as he's about to knock, the door swings open. MC stands there with a sleepy smirk, her bag slung over her shoulder.

She passes him and turns to face him once she reaches his door, “Well? You coming, handsome?”

He runs his hand through his hair again, excited and anxious about sleeping with her all night. “My bed?”

She gives him that smirk. “Yep, it's better. Smells like you.”

A huge grin splits his face and he rushes over, scooping her up against his chest as she wraps her legs around him. He spins her around once and she laughs and squeals at the centrifugal force. He holds her up with his arm under one leg, forcing her to tighten her grip with both legs, as he reaches into his pocket for his own room key. He groans at the tight contact and looks into her eyes as he opens the door and walks inside, never looking anywhere else.

They strip down to the basics. Chris in his blue boxer briefs and MC in a tank and underwear. He flips the covers back and slides in, holding up her side so she can jump in. She slides closer and he runs one arm under her, slipping between the pillow and her shoulders. His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her snugly against him. She sighs and throws her leg over his hip, making him playfully growl at her before he leans in for her lips. They kiss slowly, both starting to feel the exhaustion creep in. It doesn't take long for each to fully fall asleep, both with a content look on their faces as their limbs remain intertwined.

Chris stirs a few hours later as a sharp light cuts into the room from hallway thanks to the now open door. He leans up slightly, his eyes heavy with sleep, only slits as he recognizes Logan. The senior stops dead in his tracks, his eyes searching Chris’s bed. He nods and smiles at Chris before giving him a quick wave and turning back into the hall.

He hears his faint “Hey Mads, MC and I are switching tonight. Cool?” He settles back down and adjusts his grip around her she unconsciously snuggles into his chest. He does the same to the top of her head, burrowing his nose into her sweet smelling hair as the room slips back into darkness.

The bus leaves Penn State University bright and early the next morning. Coach makes sure everyone was up and outside no later than 6 a.m., knowing that many would have to drive some distance after they arrive in Hartfeld later in the day. When he received multiple groans he told them all to get over it, reminding them they could sleep on the bus. That's what many did actually, sleeping all the way through to the midway stop, everyone only waking when it was time to refuel.

Chris and MC were the least tired as they had gone to bed earlier than just about everyone else, so they were awake at least an hour or two before the scheduled stop. They spend the quiet time playing Rummy, and much to Chris’s competitive dismay, MC is good. He tries everything he can think of to beat her. All of his previously victorious tactics fail him left and right. It’s unbelievable.

Instead of getting upset like he usually does when he loses, Chris just smiles. He tries to sneak a peek at her cards occasionally, receiving a swat in return each time as she clutches her cards to her chest. Eventually she takes a short nap before the bus slows and pulls in to a large station. The building was huge, as it was surrounded on all sides with multiple fuel options. There was even a full size restaurant on one side.

Coach Cohen stands first, clapping his hands twice to rouse everyone. “Now's a good time to stretch your legs, take care of business or just breathe some fresh air. Get back on in…” He checks his watch. “15 minutes, tops. It’s going to be a long day, we don't want to make it any longer.”

Everyone slowly stands and stretches, filing out of the bus and heading inside for the next 15 minutes. Chris reaches over to rub his fingers across MC’s cheek as she doesn't wake from the claps like almost everyone else.

“Hey, beautiful… pit stop. Come on.” He stands as she begins to stir and helps her up.

She yawns and gives him a warm smile. “Hello, handsome.”

He grins and spins her around, walking closely behind her with his hands on her hips. Once inside they split and head to the bathrooms. Chris makes it out before her, and starts milling around the aisles in the store. He sees Ethan as he heads over to join him on the snack aisle. They compare the quality of different snacks for a moment before Ryan rushes over with a magazine in his hand.

“Guys. Check this shit out.” He moves closer as they move to each side as he flips through the pages of Men’s Fitness magazine.

When he finally finds the page he was searching for he flattens the magazine and doesn't say a word, yet his eyebrows reach for the sky.

Ethan’s brow furrows as he leans closer. “Is that… Hannah?”

~MC~

As she makes her way towards the front door of the store, MC hears the guys near the end of an aisle and walks over to join them. As she gets closer she begins to hear some of their conversation.

“Is that… Hannah?” Ethan asks with disbelief.

She pauses, instantly curious who Hannah is and how they know her. Specifically how Chris knows her. She stands on her tiptoes to see Chris as he hears the name. A crease forms on his brow before he leans forward to get a better look at the pictures on the page. He studies the images quietly for a moment before straightening back up, a look of indifference on his face. Ryan eagerly flips through the pages, more images appearing over and over.

MC can see the magazine better now as well. Whoever this Hanna is, she's beautiful. Her mind begins to run through past conversations, searching for that name in particular. She remembers many names from hundreds of stories, but Hannah was not at all familiar. That wouldn't bother her too much, except Ryan and Ethan seemed to recognize her well, and Chris was being so quiet.

Not originally intending to eavesdrop, she walks around the end of the aisle and joins them. “Hey, guys.” She smiles and looks at the magazine when she gets closer. “Oh, she's beautiful… who’s that?”

When she raises her eyes she sees them all exchange odd looks. She immediately frowns, confused by their odd behavior.

“Uh…” Ryan begins, turning to Chris for assistance.

Chris just shakes his head at Ryan before he sighs and turns to MC. “She's just someone we went to high-school with.”

Ethan frowns and shuts his eyes, avoiding pushing the conversation further.

Ryan however, is not so in-tune with the current situation, his left eyebrow arching up before he speaks. “Yeah, and she's a model…”

His eyes widen as he finds a particularly interesting photo. Ethan elbows him slightly, bringing his focus back to the present.

When he looks up he sees Ethan’s face, Ryan quickly turns to see Chris and MC as they hold each other's gaze. Neither are looking at the magazine anymore. Picking up on the awkward moment, Ryan puts the magazine down on a random shelf before he and Ethan walk outside without a word.

~Chris~

Chris doesn't see them leave as he holds MC’s curious gaze. She chews on her bottom lip, making him feel a little anxious, knowing she’s thinking something about Hannah.

“You know her from Cherryfield?” MC gives him a small smile, the innocent looking expression implying much, much more.

He takes a deep breath and nods slowly. “Yes, that’s Hannah Foster. She was one of our friends from Cherryfield.”

MC picks up on his word choice immediately. “Was?”

He frowns deeply. “Yeah… she's not exactly friends with any of us now.” Chris feels a painful pressure on his chest for a moment as his mind jumps into the past briefly.

MC steps closer, making his anxiety spike as she softly grabs his hands and holds them in hers. She searches his eyes for a moment until he relaxes a little.

“What happened?” She asks in a quiet voice.

Chris’s mind swirls around like a tornado as old memories collide, even the ones he's tried so hard to lock deep down inside. “Um, remember when I told you how… how bad, everything got after Nicole…”

He pauses and takes a deep breath. Chris can’t believe how horrible this timing is. Here he is, less than 24 hrs out from the best moment of his life with the woman of his dreams standing in front of him, and his past comes barreling through the serenity, threatening to disrupt everything. MC squeezes his hands and he looks up to meet her eyes. He surprisingly finds them warm and understanding, instantly making him feel better, so he continues after looking back down to their hands.

“I did a lot of stupid stuff, you know that.” He glances at her briefly, seeing her nod softly. “She um, ended up in the middle of some of it.”

Chris internally curses. Pissed that he now feels as if he’s lying to MC about Hannah. He never intended to hide this part of his past from her, but there has never been a good time to bring it up. He also feels embarrassed, about his past behavior and actions as they rise to the surface of his mind. He’s tried so hard to move past it, to make it up to her and everyone else he affected when he hit bottom. And now, here it is, a blaring reminder staring at him from a fitness magazine.

He sighs as MC drops his hands, his guts twisting as if being stabbed by a knife. Instead of walking away from him like he fears, she runs her hands around his sides, then up his back, hooking them under his arms and onto his shoulders before she leans her head on his chest, tucking under his chin.

Chris lets the breath he was holding out slowly, almost afraid to move too much as she would turn into dust and blow away. He gently raises his arms and snakes them across her back, one running across her shoulders, the other tightly around her narrow waist as he tilts his head towards her, resting his lips on her hair.

“I will tell you more about it, just… just not right now, okay?” He mumbles into her hair.

She doesn't say a word but she squeezes him close and nods. He can feel the tension in her back, making him frown as he pinches his eyes shut with frustration. The loud bus horn breaks their uncomfortable silence. Chris’s head whips up and looks outside.

He drops his arms from her and grabs her hand. “Shit, Coach is going to chew my ass. Hurry.”

They run through the door and to the bus hand in hand. Chris lets her climb in first before he skips two steps at once. When he stands on the floor of the bus his eyes meet with Coach Cohen’s. Coach arches an eyebrow, almost as if he was going to say something, until he sees Chris’s expression.

His eyes narrow and he instead pats him on the shoulder, “Hurry and take your seat.”

Chris follows MC as they rush to their row. His eyes meet Ethan’s briefly, a small knowing frown across his friends lips. He glances at Ryan to see him staring out the window, his thoughts far away from his current position. Chris shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair, his hand pausing on his neck momentarily as he steps back to the seat with MC. He doesn't look to her face as he sits down, but he can feel her eyes on him.

Chris reaches over and slides his hand into MC’s, threading her fingers through his and giving her a gentle squeeze. She smiles without making eye contact and leans on his shoulder. The four of them remain quiet for most of the trip back to Hartfeld after that. The other passengers on the bus get a little rowdy as time passes, everyone apparently refreshed from their morning nap.

Once they pull into the big parking lot near the Hartfeld quad, Coach stands, thanking them all for an entertaining trip, and for representing Hartfeld with their best behaviors. He says more personal goodbyes as everyone passes on the way out. Chris and MC are the last to rise from their seats. He reaches for and grasps her hand in his as they stand and make their way to the front. Coach Cohen doesn't speak, but nods at Chris before they shake hands briefly.

When they step off the bus Chris hears a familiar short sharp whistle. He turns to see Ethan and Ryan by the Jeep with Ethan pointing at all of their bags, apparently already grabbing them while they were waiting.

~MC~

They walk over and Ethan smiles warmly at MC. He lifts one arm and pulls her into a side hug, making her laugh lightly as he tucks her close, rubbing her arm with his hand. “It was great to meet you in person, MC. Maybe we can hang out again soon. And I need to meet Max, he reminds me of my old dog.”

She nods, shooting him a small smile as they separate. “That would be great.”

MC turns to Ryan who currently leaning against the winch and bull bar on the front of the Jeep. “Hey, Hawk.”

Ryan’s slightly somber expression disappears immediately as he turns to face MC. “Hey, girl. I had a blast. You’re fucking awesome. Promise we will get to dance again soon.” He winks at her playfully.

She laughs and nods. “You've got it. Soon.” He reaches over to her with some speed, catching her off guard slightly as he pulls her close in a fierce hug.

MC pats him on the arm when he finally lets her go, grabbing her bag from the pile before she turns and walks towards Chris who’s standing a few feet away still. She sees Madison under one of the trees and waves, receiving a thumbs up to let her know she’s going to wait. Her eyes swing back to Chris, finding him looking down, his eyes appear to be darker than usual.

“Hey, handsome.” She says in a low voice, making him look up so they lock eyes.

She watches as a small smile appears, slowly growing into a much larger one. “Hey, beautiful.”

~Chris~

He reaches out and pulls her close as he kisses her on the temple before whispering in her ear. “I’m going to miss you. This trip was a double edged sword in a way.” He laughs and she joins him.

“I can agree with that.” She turns her head and looks into his piercing blue eyes, now looking more like their normal lighter color.

They stare at each other for a full minute. Chris finally reaches up and moves a piece of hair away from her face before he leans in, brushing his lips across hers. She sighs and melts a little in his hands as she deepens the kiss. Knowing he has a long trip home, Chris finally breaks the kiss. They are both back to their normal happy selves as they suck in deep breaths and grin sheepishly at each other.

“Man, I’m really going to miss that…” Chris almost whines, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

She scoffs at him playfully and pinches his side. “It’s less than a week. Then we will be back here at Hartfeld. I think you’ll be okay.”

Chris dramatically shakes his head, “I really won’t…”

She laughs at him before pulling him in for another deep kiss. “See you soon, Chris. Drive safe.”

He winks at her. “I’ll call you tonight, like usual.”

After a last desperately tight hug, they separate. Chris watches her head back over to Madison before he turns back to the Jeep.

Ryan gives him a snarky look as he approaches. “Sooo….”

Chris doesn't let him finish before he shoves Ryan’s head lightly as he passes his friend. “Shut it.”

Ryan smirks until Ethan passes him as well. “Shotgun.”

“Dammit.” Ryan grumbles as he turns, heading to the back seat for the ride home.

#chris x mc #chris powell x mc #TheFreshmanChronicles #Chris Powell #Christopher Powell #The Freshman #the sophomore #choices fanfiction #choicestoriesyouplay #choices stories you play #choices #thefreshman #thesophomore #choices the freshman #choices the sophomore #choices the junior #tf/ts/tj

84 notes · View notes