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junhuiste · 3 years

Text

twice twice baby (preview)

pairing: jake x gn reader x sunghoon

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, college!au, hockey player!jake, ice skater!sunghoon, sports med assistant!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, cursing, slightly suggestive scenes

a/n: this is just a preview of the bigger piece i plan to publish much later, so it pretty much only has jake, sorry hoonists! also gonna address it here while we’re at it, but i wanna apologize to everyone who sent requests in! i have them all plotted, most drafted and written, but i didn’t realize when i moved back home how busy i would be with work, summer classes, and looking for an apartment! i will have them published before the end of summer though! this piece is coming out before only because i wrote it well before finals week lol

taglist: please let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist!

Being in a parallelogram (or was it a dodecagon? A triangle? whatever) with the two notorious ‘Ice Hotties’ at your college, Jake Sim, the captain of the hockey team, and Park Sunghoon, the world class figure skater, is easy. Geometry isn’t that complicated...right?

As you entered into the arena, a cold blast of air struck, prompting you to jump slightly in your tracks, cursing that it was men’s hockey season and not basketball anymore. Albeit arms shivering, knees wobbling, and barely being able to make any strides at all, you weren’t distraught and to some extent trembling because of the ice rink or the ice packs inside the pouch seemingly glued to your waist, or hell, even the unnecessary air conditioner giving its all. Really, did they need to keep that fucking thing on when it was already polar-arctic-adjacent inside the arena? Probably to keep the rink from oozing into water and having Atlantis actually come to fruition...whatever, fuck the cold!

“Y/N, let’s get on it. We’re a bit late.” The head athletic trainer indicated, speed-walking a little too quickly for your liking, but what were you to do when your chest was heaving upon arrival at the ice center? Suck it up? Collapse and crawl into a ball?

Nodding, even though she was practically scurrying and leaving your curtailing ass in the dust, you heightened your pace despite the fact that your legs were about to give out at any second. Weren’t cold spaces supposed to make a solid more rigid, not turn your legs to jelly?

The both of you finally reached the area where the players were situated to greet the head and assistant hockey coaches.

“This is Y/N,” your trainer (whom insisted you just skip the formalities and call her Mina) motioned to you, slightly yet noticeably panting, “a first year, but they’ve done men’s basketball, women’s soccer and some gymnastics last semester. They know their stuff!”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The head coach reaches out to grip your hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet y—“ once more today you jump, this time not shaken by the frozen tundra or by the vehemently boisterous buzzer, though it was much more thundering than the buzzer at the basketball court for some reason, but by the announcers cheering, “first year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim!”

And the crowd? They didn’t just go wild, no, they were literally cacophonous, the ground beneath and the arena stands rumbling, practically rivaling the San Andreas fault. Craning your neck to look around the oval shaped space and just how many students from your school, clad in university regalia, were present to see guys battle it out with plastic sticks on frozen water, even that, the entire scene wasn’t what had your heart nearly palpitating out of your chest.

First year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim. Now that was enough to warrant a blood pressure monitor...and possibly a defibrillator.

Almost giving yourself whiplash from turning around too quickly, it was hard not to gape at the boy coasting across the ice, waving at the all too excited crowd. And even through his helmet and from across the rink, you could make out his dark, glimmering irises, like how the sun’s edges would peak through from behind during an eclipse. It was kind of charmingly sickening actually, that someone could be as radiant as he was, under all the bulky gear, even despite the temperature. It wasn’t convenient actually that it had to be men’s hockey this time, that you, as the athletic trainer’s sports medicine intern had to attend the games for. Yeah, it was for credits. Sure, it was for intern experience...but what was the point if you only expected to make a fool out of yourself trying to tend to Jake and his teammates’ possible injuries?  It wasn’t fair, actually, that you were hopelessly in like with Jake Sim and that he didn’t even know your name when you were in the same physics class. To be fair though, it was a class of about 400, an infamous weeder course that crushed the poor souls of innocent underclassmen, so to have him direct any sort of attention your way, even a mere glimpse, would be laughable. That was what happened when you sat in the back, though.

Of course it just had to be Jake Sim that completely bewitched you, and he didn’t have to twirl any fingers or fixate any potions to have you just so damn spellbound. All he had to do was show up to freshman orientation with that stupid inviting grin of his, and that dumb glint in his eye that no one else seemed to possess. No, of course he just had to show up and be almost too cordial to everyone in your orientation group, even though all the other students, including you, could not give a single damn about the campus tour. And yes, of course, he just had to have the masses absolutely enamored with him, both upper and underclassmen alike.

Consider all of that, with Jake’s insane schedule, not that you knew anything specific, just that he had games on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coupled with daily practices, but you were only privy to that information because Mina always gave you the athletic teams’ agendas for the month. So yes, trying to garner any attention from Jake was like floating right smack in the middle of the Pacific, sending some sort of signal through a marine radio, and getting no response back. Not a hint that anyone was coming. No helicopters whirring above, no boats sent out ashore. What would he want to do with the first-aid kid, the person that sat in the back, the person that was paying attention to something else at the moment, and not the fact that they had to observe players carefully for potential injuries?

Well, sorry to Jake’s teammates and Mina, but you just couldn’t pry your eyes off of number three. How he skated in such an agile manner while simultaneously defending assertively was certainly an image now seared into your mind. The way he commanded the court was just so—“You paying attention? Are you okay today?” Mina snapped you out of your nonsensical trance.

“Yeah, yeah of course! Always on my toes like you said...” your eyes told a different story, and deceived you at that.

“And there’s number three, Sim, with the first goal!”

Jake skated backwards to high five his teammates and to prepare to defend, and it was definitely a sight to see him so animated, feeling right where he should be in his domain.

“Ah, I see. Number three is it? I heard he’s a beast on the ice,” Mina nudged and winked slyly at you, “anyway, pay attention ‘cause if your little ice boy gets hurt you know we gotta move quickly.”

It was already enough to have your friends taunt you about your silly adolescent infatuation with Jake, now to have your mentor in on it too? Mina was right though, you were here to wrap ankles and tend to bruised hips, not ogle at the team captain.

“Gotcha. On my toes!” you winked back at her, semi-ready to do your job. If you could predict injuries before they even happened during the basketball and soccer games you should be more than capable of caring for the hockey players. Whipping your head around to finally and legitimately focus on the members, you really wished you hadn’t.

There he was, number three, adept and dodging the defensive players, with the puck sliding in tandem with his stick. Then, it happened all too quickly, in a tenth of a second, too much for everyone spectating to comprehend.

BAM.

Suddenly, Jake was on his back after he and the opposing player too combatively collided into each other. You blinked once and now he was supine on ice, clutching a leg to his chest. His teammates and the referees hastily surrounded him, but you could not watch anymore, you had to do what you were here for.

Running past both the coaches, lamenting what the hells and go go go! at Mina, you dashed to the edge of the rink, about to enter and slip on the ice, but stopped yourself, because you didn’t have skates on. Fuck. Mina and you always ran to the scene of the injury, and you’d only dealt with hardwood floors and grass fields, but never ice. There was no reason for you to just stand around though, as Jake was being lifted by the referees. As much as you wanted to glue your eyes to the catastrophe, you sprinted to the locker room to fetch the cooler.

“Everyone, move!” You shouted at the towering players standing in your way. Setting the cooler on the floor, you directed some of them to assemble a few of the chairs they were sitting on for a makeshift cot for Jake to rest his leg on. Nervously yet rapidly, you dug into your backpack for a splint, pre-wrap, and medical tape.

When you stood back up, Jake and the referees were at the rink’s entrance, with Mina extending her arms to steady him once he transitioned from ice to linoleum. And through all this he maintained the same tender-hearted curve on his face, beaming at Mina and thanking the referees.

One of Jake’s coaches and Mina propped Jake around their shoulders as he hopped on one foot to your nearby station. Assisting them in getting Jake to sit down, you were shaking slightly out of feverishness and hormones, even though it was the perfect temperature for snowfall, but forming a resistance to doing that was almost impossible.

Christ, you weren’t like this when Taehyun tore his ligament last semester at the basketball semi-finals, or when Yuna sprained her toe out on the field, yet it was due to that certain someone that you just could not find it within you to operate as you usually did. It was imperative that you got out of your own head; Jake was merely another athlete you had to tend to and someone you, quite frankly, had to get over, like now.

Once Jake was seated with his right leg propped up on the opposite chair, he took his helmet off and handed it to his coach standing guard next to him.

“Mina, you guys got this?” The coach hesitantly asked your trainer.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about, Coach Kim! We’ve seen worse than this; we’re good, right Y/N?”

You gave Coach Kim a measly thumbs up and he rushed to get back to the rest of the team to continue with the game, deliberating who would substitute in now that their best player was on the sidelines.

While Mina undid Jake’s skates and kneepads, you assessed him before you could get started, asking him what kind of pain he had in his leg, how much it hurt on a scale of 1-10, and if he could wiggle his toes.

Sharp and kind of aching, I think. 8.5-ish, actually maybe just 8. Toes wiggling.

“Um, okay. Good that your toes are still intact, which means you’re gonna be okay, but is there any other part of your body that hurts?” You tried not to sound like a complete buffoon, trying to enunciate your words properly like you did with several other injured athletes; Jake shouldn’t have been any different. He was, though.

“Yeah, I feel like there’s a bruise on the right side of my body somewhere,” he said, motioning to his abdomen.

“Okay...I’m gonna take your shoulder pads off and you have to take your jersey off so we can ice it, is that cool with you?” Your brain was bouncing off the walls at the mention of “take” and “off”. Come on, this wasn’t fucking NASA, although it might as well have been, as he was a universe and a half to you (in a melodramatic way of sorts).

“Yeah, yeah—for sure. Thanks.” Jake flashed an acknowledging smile, to which your cheeks heated up at. There was an injured boy in front of you—no time for shits and giggles and teenage elation.

As you aided Jake in removing his shoulder pads and jersey, he winced a bit, while trying to hide it at the same time.   “Are you good? I’ll get some ice on that soon, I promise.” You gradually eased into your ‘medic’ mode, trying to expel as much of your nerves as humanly possible.

“Yeah I’m okay, just hurts a bit. Thanks again,” he could not stop giving you that demure yet brazen demeanor, and to be around a smiling Jake meant a tense you, regardless if your subconscious plan to initiate Nerves Exodus was kind of working.

When Mina stood up, all finished with undoing his skates and knee pads, she asked Jake to repeat what he stated about his pain earlier to you back to her. Before walking to where the coaches and other players were, she chaffed at you, with a mischievous lilt to her words, “you can handle it from here right? The star player’s in your hands.”

Audibly, you ‘mhmmed’ her, and when you were out of Jake’s sight, rolled your eyes, making sure she noticed that. You were glad though, that Mina was your trainer and not some old, stern fart like she had when she interned in your same position; it made for much more “effective” mentoring and communication, especially because she left you alone with the athletes, so you were able to think of what to do next for yourself, and if there were ever any mistakes—which there were none of to date—she would help you work through them.

Holy shit, Mina left. It was just you and Jake.

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen imagine #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #jake scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon #jake

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spasmsofthought · 3 years

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flashes. (dick grayson x reader)

I’m not really well-versed in DC, at all, but I wanted to give this a shot. let me know what you think! It’s a bit of a mess, so please take this with a grain of salt and some grace. sorry if he feels ooc; I tried my best but I am by no means an expert or even an amateur. please be kind. idk if i’ll write anymore for him, but i wanted to try. it might be trash but it’s out there now xo

It’s not like Gotham is known for being a walk in the park. The city is all alleys in the middle of the night, dark vapors rising from sewers, and secrets in the shadows. At least, in your experience.

There were no gated communities or fences to keep the darkness out in the apartment complex you lived in with your family. Only survival and common sense keeps you returning to your bed and food on the table.

So, when your younger (genius) brother is offered a scholarship to Gotham Academy on what feels like a whim, the world shifts.

When your mother still works, though, it means you are the de-facto adult during the day. Your job keeps your busy in the mornings, hers during the afternoon and night. You’re just getting into learning what it’s like to handle a job and bills of your own, even though you’re still living with your family (part of it is to save money, part of it is because you just don’t want to leave). Your family is the only real home you have ever known. Why leave to only find inadequate housing where you have to worry about your safety and theirs separately?

So, like every month, you swap out of your work clothes, put on your newest (at least 2 years old) pair of jeans on, the only blouse you own that hasn’t faded or stretched or shrunk from countless wash cycles, and grab the bag you’ve stored in its own special place in the cabinet by your family’s loud, old, run-down fridge.

You chance a ride on the bus, hopeful for no public catastrophes today. You listen to your small, but loved, playlist through the one earbud that works during the ride and you almost want to leap with joy when you step back down on concrete like this is what it is like everyday.

The architecture is a thing to behold. There is no wonder why this is acclaimed as the most prestigious private school in Gotham. Light is everywhere, and it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist. Every month you step on this campus it’s like you’ve never seen it before.

The grounds are meticulously groomed, everything in lines and straight edges. Concrete and nineteenth century buildings both cast heavy, sharp shadows in the late afternoon sun. There are some students lingering about, all grouped up and chattering in their similar uniforms. Compared to public art, haphazard graffiti, and buildings of all shapes and sizes, this place feels foreign. Different. It makes you feel strange and unwelcome; like entering a different world altogether.

When you enter the pristine, elegant office, the entrance door propped open, there’s two figures you immediately spot: the secretary and the man standing in front of her. Your brother is yet to be found. He’s running late again.

“Hi, hun, take a seat,” Grace’s sweet voice soothes from her position behind the desk. “He should be here any minute.” The man standing in front and a little to the right of her glances behind for second, casually swiping a look at you, before he turns forward again.

“Thanks, Grace,” You exhale as you sit down.

The chairs are nice, soft fabric and cushioned, but small. You so desire to bring up a leg to draw close to you, but it’s impossible without making yourself a human pretzel. And you don’t want to dirty it with your less than perfect shoes so, instead, you chose to bring the bag onto your lap and you pick at your cuticles, resisting to bring your nail to your mouth and chew on it anxiously.

There’s never been anyone else in here when you’ve come before. Grace can make polite chatter, but then she leaves you in relative silence. It makes you feel anonymous. The man uttering sweet words to the secretary and then glancing at you again before sitting down next to you does not. You stop fidgeting with your hands and intertwine them together instead.

A flash of the ceiling’s fluorescent lighting on glass against your eyes is what you first get a taste of, then all polish and silver, or something like it, cradling a wrist. The watch looks heavy, expensive. It looks like it could buy your family a newer, safer, apartment in a suburbia far away from here.

“Hey,” Smooth as honey it drips out, and you are drawn to blue eyes and ebony hair. There’s a softness to his face and his eyes are warm. It would only take an hour, you think before you stop the thought from going any further. An hour to do what? You’re not sure, but the list expands the longer you take him in.

The first thing you ever learned on the streets when you walked by yourself to work was how to be aware, vigilant; on guard. Men were unpredictable creatures who were driven by greed or lust or power, and any of the good ones were swooped up and carried away to better things or dead before any second glances could take place. Or carrying on just fine behind their high fences and impenetrable walls. Just because this one introduces himself first does not mean he has proven otherwise.

“Hi,” is all you can offer, a quirk of lips to his gesture of kindness.

You glance towards to door before your eyes make their way back to him. The gesture doesn’t offend him. There’s a familiarity to his face, but you decide to not spend time right now trying to figure it out. It already only tells you one thing: this guy is way out of your league.

Grace gets up from her seat, rounds her desk, and makes her way out of the office, leaving you two alone. You watch her the entire time.

“You waiting for someone?”

“Yeah,” You nod even as the word comes out, “My brother.”

He leans back like he’s got all the time in the world, and there’s a perusal that makes you taste butterflies and gulp down caution at the same time. You wonder if he saw the scuff marks and stains on your worn-out sneakers, or if he notices that you still haven’t had the chance to wash your three-day old hair and that’s why it’s up and back, and that your blouse is definitely from the clearance rack at Goodwill.

“Your favorite one?”

Out of self-preservation, you try to hide the reaction to the humor you feel, “My only one.”

“I think that’s the same thing.” You almost want to roll your eyes. But there’s a genuineness in his conversation, like he means the words he’s saying to you. Like this isn’t a game.

“Sure,” You shrug, “You’re allowed to be wrong.”

“My name’s Richard.” It’s old-fashioned. It’s something you don’t really hear rolled off of tongues in your neck of the woods, that’s for sure. A hand comes out and rests halfway between you and him, and it’s one of the most graceful things you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile. Your hands stay clasped in your lap.

“You gotta earn a handshake from my sister,” A voice pops up from the open door way. You swing your head around and watch for a moment as your brother makes his way towards you.

“Hi, J,” Your stand, open your arms wide, bag moved from your lap into one of your hands. His solid presence allows a brief hug before he steps back again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude--”

The man sitting next to you has chosen to rise as well and you’re closer than you thought you would be when you turn back to him. You notice now that your height means your eyes literally meet his lips straight on. There’s a curve of a smirk there for a flash of a second before it straightens back out into the smile you saw at first. The rest of your sentence is forgotten. He takes one, two, three steps back.

“You got them all?” The question saves you. Your brother pulls you back to him as you hand him the brown plastic bag. In it? His favorite snacks from the liquor store on the corner (the nearly sold-out, hard-to-come-by ones).

“Every last one,” Your hands come to his cheeks, turning his face to each side.

You have to reach up now and it strikes you just how much he’s grown even in the past month. You both spend much of your time on the phone with one another. These monthly meetings set-up frequently enough for deliveries and some quick face-to-face time and seldom enough to avoid embarrassment (that’s what he says anyway).

He brings the chip bag out and holds it up, “You even got these.”

“Geraldo got them special order just for you.”

“Tell the old man I said thanks,” He smiles like he’s seven again, spoiled and self-indulgent. “Richard” is still standing behind you and to the side, silent. You can feel his eyes flipping back and forth between the two of you.

“Of course,” Your hands smooth over his shoulders and brush away imaginary dust. “Mom sends her love and says she’ll try and call you on her lunch in a few hours.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll make sure I answer.”

“Thank you.” You exhale an affectionate sigh.

Avoidant loner that your brother can be, there’s a reason you both want him here. He’ll be able to do the things you only dreamed of when you were his age. And one day, hopefully, you’ll all be out of this hellhole, onto better things.

“I gotta go, but thanks for these. Even though you should be saving every penny,” He chides, holding up a finger like his words are somehow a threat.

“Okay,” You chortle like you wouldn’t give everything up for your brother in a heartbeat. There’s another quick hug before he’s looking back at the man behind you, who is still standing there like some sort of stealth ninja.

“Like I said man,” He nods and there’s something in his face that changes as he looks at “Richard”, “You gotta earn it.”

It’s with those parting words that he begins to walk out. You stay stock still for a second before you leap after him, “I wanna hear all about what happened last week with Cara tomorrow on the phone!”

Your brother, a mile away already on longs legs, shouts something indistinguishable back at you from down the hallway, his figure turning a corner.

“Who’s Cara?” The voice brings your back to reality.

You sweep your palms against your jeans and turn back to face the man with a three-piece suit and a watch that probably costs more than 20 years of your salary. Oh God.

“This girl my brother asked out the other week. I bribed him with some of his favorites so he would tell me what went down.” You shrug your shoulders, not worried about spilling the tea about your brother’s romantic life.

“Does he know that?” His arms seem to relax a little more and you think you could stare at him all day.

“Eh,” You say, creeping back towards the open door. Your small crossbody bag is already on you and there’s no reason to sit back down. Richard follows you as you, apparently, both start to make your exit from the office. Nothing about it feels unnatural. “Sometimes you got to persuade instead of demand.”

“Ha,” There seems to be something you are missing based on the way his mouth curves and his eyes spark, “That’s the truest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“You’re welcome. That’s the only one that comes for free!” Your arms swing back and forth. “Anything else is gonna cost you.”

The hallways usually feel like a labyrinth here, but you don’t feel lost this time.

“What forms of payment do you accept?” You pretend to be thinking, but really you’re just glancing between the different features of his face. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone like him. You’re not sure you ever will again.

“The bank’s closed right now, actually,” The wariness is back. This guy walks like he’s used to treading on perfectly paved gold streets in his shoes. All you’ve ever known is cracked cement and rusted pipes that burst underground. “But I think it’ll be back up and running soon.”

He doesn’t falter and there’s no anger or hurt in his expression at the metaphorical rejection. Instead, it looks something like silent patience. Maybe even acceptance. This guy could totally not be interested and you could just be being (too) ambitious. The door to the open courtyard, and your way home, is already before you both.

“It was nice meeting you Richard,” You say as you begin to take steps forward. Your hands nervously hold the strap across your torso. You take a few more steps before his words turn your head back to him.

“You can call me Dick,” He says with ease. The tone makes you feel like he’s speaking a language you don’t really understand. His blue eyes seem like they’re on fire; a contradiction, you know. There’s something about him that almost makes you catch your breath. You’ve never been been winded by just looking before.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You offer, hands squeezing your bag strap.

“I look forward to earning that handshake next time!” He calls out when you’re several feet away.

I think you’ll earn a lot more than that, you almost say, but refrain.

Instead, you wave back to him once before making your way out of the courtyard, caught between staring at your shoes and looking ahead to make sure you’re going to right way. You smile and daydream the entire bus ride home. Blue becomes your favorite color.

#help ive never written for dc before #i dont know what im doing #be nice please #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson preference #richard grayson oneshot #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader

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nanamismoonchild · 3 years

Text

pairing: CEO! Namjoon x black Assistant! Y/N

genre: fluff, angst, boss/employee relationship, f2l

warnings: mention of racism/discrimination in workplace, very indirect mention of domestic abuse

Summary: Losing your job was one of the worst things that could possibly happen to you. Bills started piling up, and soon enough you were in complete debt. By a miracle, you were offered the position of assistant to the CEO of Persona who turns out to be a real sweetheart.

WC: 5.6k--i think this is the most i’ve written. i could’ve written some more but ya girl was losing that thing called inspiration.

A/N: This fic is the definition of what a Hallmark movie is. First it takes you on a straight-forward path then BAM! But you gotta love them for that. Remember was originally supposed to be called Deceiving the Moon, but I changed the plot entirely into this one and I can’t but love this version more so now it is Remember. And I hope you’ll remember to enjoy it!

beta-reader(s)-- @birbdae thank you for the praise and the tiny criticisms bby. they made me smile!

The pink paper slip seemed to burn your hand as you held it. The tears in your eyes did nothing to persuade your boss of three years to keep you on the project that you held dear to your heart. The new girl he had hired to replace you couldn’t meet your eyes as she handed you the box filled with your personal belongings from your office space.

“Oh, ____. Before you leave, can you email the final preparations for the toy drive? We would like to get started as soon as possible.”

The bastard smiled up at you as he practically ripped your heart to pieces. The toy drive had been your idea from the start to beginning. You were the program manager as well the assistant to the CEO who had wanted nothing to do with the project until he learned of the tax cut he was able to receive.

Then he replaced and fired you. Now he was asking for your hard work that you manifested.

You had dealt with a lot of shit regarding this company. Racist comments while being the only black woman on the team, being told you hair being in braids was not professional, and being paid the least out of everyone including the new assistant. Yet you had stayed. Your dreams of finally managing to pull off a huge event in your name had made you persevere and smile in the face of the evil work environment.

The dream slowly crumbled as you stared at the assistant, the boss, and the pink slip. There was no way you would give him anything you had created.

“No. Start the entire project yourself. I’m sure your new assistant knows how to program manage. I’ll be taking my toy drive elsewhere. I will not be letting the kids down because of your incompetence and willingness to fire me two months before the charity was supposed to begin. Fuck you.”

The CEO’s smile dropped quickly hearing those words. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But before he could retract his statement of firing the one person he knew he could count on, you left the office, head held high, middle finger in the air.

Three weeks later, the many jobs you had applied for had not replied to you, and your last paycheck from the previous job was slowly dwindling. If nothing came up soon, you wouldn’t be able to afford the rent for the next month.

Your friends Seokjin and Jungkook offered to help; however, your pride was getting in the way and you would only use them as a last resort if you couldn’t find a job in time.

For the time being, you tried to relax and avoid thoughts of the impending bills that threatened to pile up.

Putting on a bonnet and pouring a glass of wine, you prepared to pamper yourself with a little Netflix binge. Seokjin had brought the wine as soon as he had heard about what happened. He worked at Persona and couldn’t believe the unjust condition that had been forced on you. Persona was the best company to work at according to your older friend. He had once tried to convince you to apply there. Yet you hadn’t listened. There might not have been a chance to grow there seeing as many interns went there after graduating like Seokjin, and you prefer not to work with friends. As much as you loved Seokjin, you knew how childish he could be despite the mature attitude he tended to exude. You were the same way. Putting you two together in the same building was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

The day he brought the wine, he told you the CEO--Kim Namjoon- was looking for a new assistant and would more than listen to your project proposal.

Not to mention, he would pay you more than what you received at your old company.

The idea tickled in the back of your mind as you sipped your wine. As much as you would have liked to work somewhere differently, the bills were waving at you in the distance and the employers you had contacted seemed to be uninterested. At least Seokjin could put in a good word for you.

Picking up your phone, you dialed the number you knew well.

“___! “ “Jinnie!” You could hear Jungkook in the background, yelling something that was unclear to you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need food? I just made those dumplings that you like so much. I could run them up to you.”

“Please. I haven’t eaten anything all day. But that’s not why I called. I want to know how to apply for the position of the assistant.”

Seokjin audibly gasped and made a sound keen to a squeal.

“You apply by showing up tomorrow in your best business apparel at eight am sharp tomorrow at my doorstep so I can take you for open interview sessions. And bring your portfolio--no resume needed.”

“No resume?”

“Nope.”

“Oh...Alright. Eight am sharp. Best business clothes. Portfolio. Got it. Thank you Jinnie.” “No problem, __. Anything for Jungkook and I’s best friend who tends to steal our hoodies,” he said, a smile practically being heard through his voice.

“Those aren’t your hoodies anymore first of all. Second of all, I don’t steal. I borrow without the possibility of giving it back. Third of all, bring me my food. I’m starving.”

“I’m already at your door. Open up. And Jungkook came here too. He brought that silly game of his.” Hanging up, you stand up to adjust your bonnet and the pajamas you had lounged in. You walked over to the door and opened it to see your friends’ arms full of snacks and games to play for the night.

“We’ll be done with our mini get together for you to get enough sleep and prepare for your interview. Right now, we’re going to help you mope around,” Jungkook told you as both he and his older roommate stepped into your apartment.

“Somehow I doubt it, but I’ll give you the time of day since you brought dumplings.”

All three of you laughed.

The next morning, the alarm blared at six o’ clock. Sitting up and stretching your limbs, you pushed yourself off the bed and into the bathroom. You needed to look your best for the interview and show you were the best candidate. And that started with a nice, hot shower. The lavender soap washed the stress off of your body and the water carried it into the drain.

Jungkook had helped pick out your outfit while Seokjin had helped prepare your portfolio.Your hair was braided, and it was too heavy for you to set it into a bun of some sort, so you let it stay down and applied a little coconut oil.

Everything was ready and set. You were ready.

At exactly eight o’ clock, you stood outside of Jungkook’s and Seokjin’s shared apartment. You could hear shuffling coming from right behind the door, alerting you that Jin was going to open the door. As he swung the door open, you leaned over to see a slightly disheveled Jungkook throwing on his backpack.

“Late for class again?”

He grunted and moved past you.

Jin laughed and locked the door before pushing you towards the exit of the apartment.

“You ready for the open interviews?”

“I think so. Scratch that. I know so.” Your momma always told you confidence was the answer to everything.

“You’ll wow Namjoon. You’re more than qualified and Namjoon could use your ideas. That’s why I said bring your portfolio.” “Thanks.”

The drive to Persona was quick and easy. And loud as Jin played his favorite tunes and sang along to them. It uplifted your spirits and calmed some of the butterflies that blossomed in your stomach. You knew a lot about Namjoon from what Jin told you whenever he came home from work and bothered you.

He was sweet and caring. His employees came first to him and took their opinions seriously. Any criticisms anyone had was dealt with right away as a group or one on one.

On one occasion, an employee’s car was destroyed because of her ex and she couldn’t find a way to work other than Ubers. It began to get too expensive, and she told Namjoon her dilemma. After a brief meeting, he was convinced to begin a carpool service for his employees at no cost to them.

Your old boss was neither of those and only cared for the profits that came. If someone didn’t have a ride to work, it wasn’t his problem.

Namjoon’s handsome according to Jin. Tall, tan, and handsome had been the exact words Seokjin had said. Namjoon’s smile brightened everyone’s day when he smiled and nodded good morning to everyone. He always wore tailored suits--clothes fitting him to a T.

You didn’t necessarily need these details for the interview, but knowing exactly what type of boss Namjoon would be would set your mind to achieve your goal of getting the job through any means.

Seokjin walked you to the door of his boss’s office and knocked twice. A deep voice told you to come in.

The butterflies in your belly picked up full speed. As you tried to calm yourself down, Jin opened the door.

“Namjoon! ____ is here!” Jin announced.

The man in particular was seated at a mahogany desk in a leather chair that seemed much too small for him. As big as he was though, he exuded a calming aura, and not one of arrogance.

He stood up, a huge smile spreading on his face. His dimples were pronounced and it made your heart skip a beat or two. Jin had not mentioned dimples. They were your weakness.

“Thank you Seokjin. You can go get started on your work,” he dismissed the older man and turned to you. “ Hello, Ms ___. A pleasure to speak to you today.” “Um, it’s my pleasure to speak with you as well.”

He circled around back to his chair, and motioned for you to take the chair across from. As you made your way over, you took in the decor of the office. It was bigger than your previous boss’s. There were many statues that you knew were from the KAWS collection. You had a few yourself, but not as many as this man had. The statues were placed in display cases that were scattered around the room. The room was not stark white, and had small bouts of brown and orange around the room. It was unusually calming--helping those butterflies in your belly.

Sitting down, you smiled at the man in front of you, not knowing how to start the interview.

“So I presume Seokjin told you about the position and what I’m expecting, correct?”

“Yes, and I believe that I can do more than what you’re expecting of me.”

Namjoon nodded, “That’s good. An assistant who wants to do more is exactly what I’m looking for. My last assistant was an intern, and though she was great, I wanted a little more. I see you brought a portfolio. Tell me a little about what is in it.”

This was the moment you had prepared for. Even though you had anticipated it to be later in the interview, you knew exactly what to say.

“This portfolio actually contains some of the projects and the work I developed at my previous job. One of them includes a toy drive. I was fortunately able to keep the project for myself, and I planned on getting funding from a local bank in order to kickstart it again. The toy drive would consist of donations and toys I buy myself and giving it to domestic abuse shelters for the mothers and children-”

“When was this supposed to take place?” Namjoon interrupted, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Oh, it was supposed to take place next month. December. It’s a time crunch but I believe I could do it. The other projects were for my boss who couldn’t be bothered to do anything for himself--Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Completely fine.” He drummed his long fingers on the table, encasing them in silence for a while.

You hadn’t meant to ramble on about the toy drive, but the passion you felt for the charity event was incredible. Your mother had owned a domestic abuse home, and the amount of women and children who had to spend Christmas hiding away was consistently on your mind. You wanted to do something for them.

“___?”

“Yes?” You steeled yourself for another question.

“On the basis that you continue this toy drive, and it is successful--I have a feeling it will be--the job is yours.”

You practically jumped out of your seat, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and shaking it in excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You will not be disappointed. I will be the best assistant to you and this toy drive means too much to me for it to fail.”

Namjoon grinned, his dimples showing out again. “You can talk to Jung Hoseok in the HR department. He’ll get you ready to be an employee of Persona. I want you to work tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, you moved to stand up and leave before remembering to bow in respect.

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. Not only will I have some of this paperwork done, but I’ll be getting very good advertisement for the company. It’s a win-win.”

“Right. How much paperwork do you have exactly?”

“It’s been about two months since my intern left, so…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be here bright and early then,” you said giggling. “See you tomorrow.”

Closing the door behind you, you glanced around for your best friend. You found him near the coffee machine in the far corner. As you sidled next to him, you poked him, making him jump.

“___! That didn’t take too long. How did it go?”

“We should probably wake up early enough to eat breakfast before we both have to be at work.”

The news took a minute to register in his brain. He took your hands and brought you in for a hug.

“I told you you’d get it! And no, we’re not waking up that early. We can breakfast here--there’s an all-day buffet set up in the kitchen. Speaking of, you might not even know where that is, so I’ll have to give you a tour of the place. But there’s a few hours til I have a lunch break.”

“It’s fine. I have to go to HR anyway and fill out some paperwork.”

“Min Yoongi was just about to go there. Weren’t you?” Seokjin turned towards the stranger in question. Min Yoongi had been completely hidden from you because of Jin’s broad shoulders.

“Uh, yeah. I can take her.”

Yoongi held two cups of coffee in his hands and a manila folder tucked into his armpit. He was only missing a bluetooth speaker in his ear and you can say he looked like all of the clients your previous company dealt with. He was handsome with pale skin and droopy brown eyes.

You gave him a small smile, and let him lead the way to HR. It was a few floors down so you had to take the elevator. It was a slow ride down.

“What’s your name by the way?”

“I’m ____. Just got hired.”

“Min Yoongi. You already know that though. I’m a financial analyst.”

“Sounds cool. How long have you been working here?”

“I was hired last year. I’m assuming you know Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I’m his best friend.”

The conversation came to an awkward pause. Thankfully, the elevator arrived on your floor and Yoongi led you to the office of Jung Hoseok before heading off in the other direction.

Jung Hoseok was seated behind a desk; his eyes were focused on the computer screen in front of him. He glanced away from his computer to focus on you and smiled.. Everyone here at Persona seemed to have easygoing smiles and it helped settle any uneasiness you had about accepting the job and getting to know your new co-workers. You had rarely interacted with any of your former coworkers outside of meetings. You hoped to change that.

“I’m assuming you’re ___? I have the paperwork on that table over there. Salary information, bank information, the usual. Please fill it out and I will have you as an employee in no time. Take as much time as you need--I won’t be going anywhere soon.”

The paperwork was easy to fill out, taking only a few minutes of your time. You would be paid more than what you were being paid at your former job. You had thirteen vacation days and thirteen sick days, totaling twenty-six days in all for you to take care of yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been able to stay home from work for even having a rough day. There was an employee handbook at the end of the stack that you would take home and read.

“I’m done.”

Hoseok startled, having forgotten you were in the room from how silent you were. You handed him the papers and promptly sat back down, avoiding all conversation with him. He reminded you of everything you didn’t want in coworkers.

It took him at least twenty minutes to get you into the system. He turned to you with the prettiest smile on his face.

“Congratulations! You’re now an employee of Persona. I’ll have an ID ready for you tomorrow when you come in. I’ll meet you in Namjoon’s office.”

Working with Namjoon was poles apart from working with your old boss. He didn’t give you an ungodly amount of work to do just because he could. He let you catch up on the work that had yet to be completed by his intern and gave you enough time to plan the toy drive.

You’d get so into your work, you’d lose track of time and he would have to guide you out of the office to eat lunch. He treated you to many lunches on several occasions always saying it was in his best interest to keep his assistant fed. You felt it was for more than that.

Namjoon was very attractive and was definitely your type. Boss-employee relationships only worked out in fanfictions and movies unfortunately. And there was the small detail of the employee handbook strictly advocating for non-relations in the office.

You’d discern a hint of flirtiness whenever he complimented your outfit for the day. Of course, you thanked him. But you refused to flirt back. There was no point in indulging in the flirting game. He was your boss and that’s all he would be for as long as you had this job.

Biting into a sandwich that you brought for lunch, you go over the email once more. It was an email for the employees of the company to donate any toy they could. The deadline was the 24th considering everyone had Christmas off. A week and then the children could have a special Christmas filled with toys and cheer. You only needed Namjoon to approve it and send it off. You had asked Park Jimin, who was part of the marketing team, to create little animations for you. They were the cutest things ever and made the email a lot more friendlier. A snowman waved, there was snowfall, and even Santa bringing a toy to a child. Jimin had completely outdone himself for you.

Namjoon would be back from lunch in a couple of minutes, so you decided to sit in his office and wait for him. It was only next door to your office so you didn’t mind and you could straighten up his filing while you were in there.

Soon you were lost in the work of rearranging his file system. It was weird to see that man was usually always well-kept, but his organization skills were a little lackluster. No wonder he hired you on the spot. A picture was at the bottom of the file cabinet--Namjoon didn’t want everything to be on the computer for emergencies. Picking it up, you see a dimpled child with his arms around what you assumed was his mother. His face was covered in chocolate but you knew that it was a young Namjoon. They were sitting at a table filled with different foods and you could make out a Christmas tree in the background. A familiar tree.

You had spent many hours and years in front of that tree. It belonged to your mother’s shelter. Your favorite ornament to hang on it was a Strawberry Shortcake ornament that your father had given you before the three of you moved to South Korea. That's how you recognized the tree. The ornament hung low from the Christmas tree exactly where you always put it. Namjoon had been there. You couldn’t remember ever meeting him considering you always spent your Christmases in the shelter with the families.

You would have recalled seeing dimples as deep as his.

A tiny gasp alerted you that you were being nosey.

“Namjoon! I’m sorry. I was just re-organizing the cabinet. I didn’t mean to pry..but I found out something you might want to hear.”

“And what would that be?” His tone wasn’t angry but it still had a little attitude.

“You used to stay at my mom’s shelter. Small world,” you started to giggle before realizing what exactly his and his mother’s staying truly meant. “Maybe you don’t want to hear that.”

To your astonishment, Namjoon smiled at you. A small one but your heart still fluttered. He wasn’t entirely mad at you.

“Yeah. When Seokjin mentioned you for the position, I instantly recognized your name. I wanted to hire you right then. You had been so nice to me and my mother that it stuck with me for all these years. Obviously you don’t remember me as much as I remember you though.”

“It’s probably because I’ve been so focused on the toy drive. I really want to surprise them this year. It’s the most I can do to show them that they’re not completely alone in the world. That people are thinking of them and want to help them.” “And I think this gesture would make everyone happy. I know I would have loved something like this.”

“And I would have gladly given it to you. But I was only ten years old at the time. But for right now, I need you to approve this mass email that advertises the donations of toys.”

Namjoon let out a guttural laugh and sat in his chair to review the email.

It was the 24th--the final day of the donation drive. Your co-workers had been dropping off toys since the email went out. The storage room on your floor was filled to the brim and you were beyond ecstatic. There were doll-houses, kitchenettes, monster trucks, board games, painting sets, bicycles (with the training wheels), and even things for the older kids staying at the shelter. Namjoon had thought some of the toys could even go to another shelter in the city. You decided to pick a homeless shelter knowing there were a few kids there as well.

Namjoon had helped you rent a truck for the day that would aid in loading and transporting the toys across the city to the shelters. Jin, Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi, and the new intern, Taehyung, had offered to help as well. You were grateful for the help and thanked each of them for giving up a portion of their Christmas to help you deliver the toys.

Loading the truck took hours as there were many toys. You treated everyone to a few drinks and dinner for all the help they were giving you.

“Here’s to seeing the smiling faces on the children tomorrow when we deliver the toys!”

Throwing back the shot glass of soju, you whooped and whistled along with the men around you. The plan wasn’t to drink too much as you had to be up bright and early in order to deliver the toys to both shelters in time before the children woke up.

The shelter leaders had already promised to try and keep them from going near the tree before nine that morning.

After eating, you all made your way to your cars--of course you had back with Seokjin and Jungkook. You reminded everyone to meet at the office. You and Namjoon would be driving the truck, while everyone else trailed after you in their cars.

The morning could not come soon enough for you.

Waking up wasn’t hard for you at all. The exhilaration coursing through your body was enough to get you to hop off the bed and into the showers without so much as a grown. The bonnet you had placed on your head the night before had kept your hair in tip top shape as usual. You could always trust a bonnet.

Finger combing out the curls that had flattened a little through the night, your afro soon came to its puffy and natural state of bouncy curls.

You rushed to put on the ugly sweater outfit you had bought for this occasion before rushing out of the door, colliding into Jungkook and Jin. They, like you, were excited for the day ahead of you.

The three of you packed yourself into Jin’s car and blasted Mariah Carey’s Christmas album for the short ride to Persona.

The rest of your group was already waiting for you. Jimin had made hot chocolate for the lot of you, and after a brief moment of making sure the toys were all packed into the truck, Namjoon and you climbed into the front seats, and took off.

Namjoon was singing off-key to ‘What Do the Lonely Do on Christmas’--a classic love of yours--creating a symphony of giggles from you. The Christmas cheer was big in all of you, especially the tall giant that is Namjoon. He was showing a much goofier side of him that you would have loved to see more of in the office. The man was carefree most of the time,but he always held this air of seriousness. You couldn’t help but wonder if his childhood had created some of that.

The shelter was slowly moving into your vision as you got closer and closer. You heartbeat picked up, realizing just how much you missed being here with your mom and dad. They were some of the best memories you could ever have. However, your mom began to think that the shelter wasn’t the best place for you to grow up in and made you stay with your father at home or in his office. You had always come back, but it was always too crowded and the children never wanted to play with you since you were in high school. You thought it was because they couldn’t relate to you since you hadn’t been in their position.

Namjoon pulled into the drive of your mother’s shelter, parking the car to where the trunk faced the door for easy access.

Your mother was waiting for you at the front door and gave you a tight hug.

“Hey baby girl! I’ve been waiting for you. The kids are going to love waking up to these.”

“I know Mama,’ you turned to introduce the boys. A bashful Namjoon was already behind you.

“I’m not sure if you remember but this is Kim Namjoon. He used to stay here.”

It took your mother a minute to recognize him. He had grown up so much from the scrawny little one he used to be. Always hiding under his mother unless he was playing with you.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Kim Namjoon. Son of Kim Eunha. Boy, look at you! Come here and give me a hug,” your mother said, her southern drawl prominent in her voice. She pulled Namjoon into a hug, making the huge man blush a deep red.

Holding back a giggle, you stuttered, “Mama! Mama! Let him go. We gotta get the toys out the truck or the kids are going to see nine Santas putting toys under the tree. And it’ll just ruin everything.”

“You’re right. But I won’t be helping,” she laughed. “Y’all have fun with that. Imma go make some cookies.”

You shook your head, laughing. Namjoon was laughing as well, indicating he remember just how boisterous your mother could be.

“It’s a black mother thing,” you told him.

Unloading the toys didn’t take as long as loading them did to all of your surprise. The toys that were to be taken to the other shelter stayed in. Namjoon and you were staying here while the rest of the boys took those.

The living room of the shelter was filled with toys for the little girls and boys, and you couldn’t be happier. For years, it had only been a few toys under there. Most of them had been from your family but you couldn’t afford too many.

Your ornament on the tree was in the same place it always was. It was slowly losing a few of its colours, but Strawberry Shortcake could still be made out.

“The famous Strawberry Shortcake. You know, I asked you if I could put it on the year I stayed here. You let me.”

The memory popped up as soon as he said it.

You were both tired from running around in the snow for hours until Jack Frost started nipping at your noses. You only had enough energy to fix up the tree. Namjoo had asked to put it on, and you almost threw a fit before recalling why he was here. You obliged, and saw how happy it made him.

“I did. You looked so happy. I think I wanted to kiss you.”

“We did. Right under that mistletoe.”

Blushing, you turned towards where Namjoon pointed and saw the old mistletoe your father put out to trick your mother into kissing him. He put it in the same place knowing she would stop right under it: the entrance to the kitchen.

“Oh wow. Why am I just now remembering that. We had no idea what we were doing and you even bit me!”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you totally bit me,” the shriek of laughter you let out was enough to wake the entire shelter, but the memory was too amusing. How had you forgotten it?

Before he could think of apologizing for the mishap and offer to re-do it, the laughter and shrieks of children waking up and bounding down the stairs interrupted the both of you.

“Santa came! Santa came! Wow! Look a bike!”

Various gasps and squeals exploded through the living room. The mothers all had cups of hot chocolate, holding back tears of appreciation. Some of the older kids noticed the tablets that had been laid out on the “big kid” table and were soon immersed in figuring out who would get what.

Your heart squeezed seeing all the happiness unfold around you. This was what you wanted. Just a day for the children and mothers to have a little hope.

You picked up a gift that you had bought personally the day after seeing that Namjoon had stayed at the shelter. You had lied and said that you hadn’t remembered everything. But you remembered this one.

“Namjoon!” You held out the present for you. It was wrapped in spiderman paper wrapping but it was all you had left.

He tore it open with vigor and let out a tiny gasp seeing what it was.

“You remembered?”

“Yep. It was my pinky promise before I left. I always keep my promises.”

It was a leather notebook with a fountain pen. It was something that he could easily buy himself but you recollected the exact conversation you had years ago before leaving the shelter.

“Oh, you’re leaving ___?”

“Yeah,” you kicked at a frozen rock, “Mama thinks it’s not safe for me to be here right now. So I’ll be spending time with my Dad in his office from now on. I’ll still come here though. This place means a lot to me. “

“Cool. I won’t be after next week though. My mom finally found a place for the two of us.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you. You owe me another kiss.”

“”And I’ll miss you. I promise you another kiss if you promise me a leather book with a fountain pen.”

The surprised look on your face made him laugh.

“Uhm, why a leather book with a fountain pen?”

“I want to be a business owner one day. A leather book and fountain pen are fancy and I’ve seen your dad use one.” “It keeps him organized according to Mama. But I doubt it. Dad would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.”

You both laughed and pinky promised.

As much as you didn’t like boss-relationships, you had known Namjoon since your childhood technically. And you would like to get to know him more. Obviously your relationship was going to bloom had you two not been separated.

Not to mention, he had let you finish the toy drive. Had it not been for him remembering who you were and loving your idea, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. Working for him was a Christmas miracle if you said so yourself.

It was meant to be.

“I think you owe me something now.”

Namjoon placed both of his hands on your hips, bringing you in closer to him. His smile showed you the dimples you had come to love to see.

“I promise this time with no biting.”

Namjoon’s index and thumb lifted your chin up and his soft lips pressed against yours.

Around you, the kids were tumbling around with their new toys and the teenagers were still fussing over the electronics.

But the kiss is all that mattered.

Merry Christmas to you.

230 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Breathe (Soran x Reader)

Request: soran x reader where sonnett is battling anxiety in the reader and Lindsay try to do what’s best and help her. Maybe this could take place during the US women’s national team camp.

Author’s note: So i changed this just a touch and made it so that reader is the one who has anxiety, and i also made it like a singular moment in time. I really hope you enjoy it, and if your have questions or ever just wanna say hi hit me up.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You glared at your clasped hands. At this point, your fingers were turning white, but you couldn’t seem to let go. Your cleats tapped random patterns into the floor beneath the bench, as your legs bounced randomly.

It wasn’t your first start no, but it would be the team’s first game together in eight and a half months of quarantine training. You shouldn’t be this anxious. It wasn’t that big of a deal, yet here you were with shaking hands and ragged breathing.

You closed your eyes, deep breath in deep breath out, just like your therapist had taught you. You hadn’t felt this much pressure in your chest in a long time.

*****

You had battled anxiety your entire adult life. There wasn’t a trigger like some people thought you should have. Hell, you would venture to say that it grew gradually over time until one day you realized that the feeling that your chest was going to claw itself apart every time you turned in an assignment for a professor wasn’t normal.

Between soccer and class, you were pretty close to a wreck. It didn’t matter what you did, you couldn’t help but replay everything in your head over and over, replaying conversations with people and worrying if you had said or done the wrong thing. (Something your girlfriends had almost immediately picked up on).

It wasn’t until you had a panic attack during national team camp right before the World Cup that you decided maybe you needed some help and seeing a therapist did help. Clarke taught you coping techniques and put words to the feelings you were having, and things seemed to get better. Your anxiety didn’t go away, but you knew how to handle it a little better now. And Emily and Lindsey knew how to help you. It made everything less scary.

*****

“Breath babe, you need to breathe,” Lindsey’s strong arm wrapped around your body and pulled you closer to her. You melted into her frame, burying your nose into her chest.

Emily’s hands clasped your own, gently prying your numb fingers apart. She rubbed them softly, trying to get the feeling back into them. “Come on babe, match Linessie’s breathing,”

You rubbed your face against Lindsey’s chest, breathing in her perfume. Your ear pressed right above her heart, and her hand moved to the back of your head to card through your hair.

Emily flattened your hands against the skin of her legs and held them there. She didn’t want you to dig your nails into your palms again.

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on the steady beat of her heart and tried to match the rise and fall of her chest. It hurt at first and made the burning in your chest so much worse.

“I can’t,” You wheezed, shaking your head, Lindsey’s heartbeat the only thing cutting through the pounding in your ears.

“You can babe, you’ve got it,” Emily said softly, pressing herself tighter to your side. You squeezed her thighs tightly, trying to ground yourself. They waited patiently, rubbing your back and scratching your scalp until your breathing had evened out.

“That’s it babydoll, just relax,” Lindsey murmured against the crown of your head.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, shaking your head and sitting up slowly, thankful for their arms steadying your slightly dizzy frame.

You were incredibly grateful for the two women who had never left your side. They had stuck by you through the worst of your anxiety and even now when it reared its ugly head. They always knew what to do, how to approach you, and when to leave you alone. They were your rocks, and the people who could always make you smile and you loved them so much.

“No worries, you doing alright now?” Emily asked, leaning her chin on your shoulder so she breath tickled your ear.

“I think so…” You nodded. You still felt the butterflies in your stomach, but your head was much clearer now. You were nervous about the game. The Dutch had almost given your team a run for their money at the World Cup (and that was when you guys were at your best). You didn’t want to be the reason your team lost.

Lindsey and Emily shared a look before Emily answered the unsaid thoughts in your head.“Everything will work out with the game. You and Linds are gonna kill the first half, and I’ll come in to help you out in the second,”

It was important to recognize when you were catastrophizing. To understand that the world wouldn’t end if the worst-case scenario happened. To know that there were people behind you to support you. That you didn’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“And Christen and Tobin will be upfront with you the whole time, and if we lose it’s just a stupid friendly anyway,” Lindsey added, rubbing your back.

“Everything will work out fine,” You nodded. You would have your team moms and your girlfriends there. The outcome didn’t matter, it was about getting back in the grove for the Olympics. Everything would be fine.

“That’s right. You just gotta breathe,”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #soran imagine #soran x reader

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poc-movie-supremacy · 3 years

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I’m coming home to you

Christopher wanted to see his Buck today and who was Eddie to refuse? They picked up Buck for a nice day at the pier. When things go from great to catastrophic, will Eddie reunite with Buck and Christopher. Based off this tumblr post by @sexyapplemilk

This story is for @sexyapplemilk/ @fandom-101 @its-like-looking-in-3d

Thank you to @not-falling-but-flying for reading over this long long fic!

I hope you guys like it!

----

Eddie and Buck had the same day off. Well Eddie had the day off and Buck didn’t have work but potato potatoe. It was Saturday so Chris didn’t have school today either.

Eddie was sitting across from Chris at the breakfast table munching their way through breakfast. It had been a quiet morning so far, Chris was lost in his own thoughts. Eddie wondered if his kid was planning anything, but decided not to put much thought into it.

“Daddy can we see Bucky today?” The question made Eddie cock his eyebrow. He knew that Buck had been wallowing in his bed for the past few days after he got the news he couldn’t go back to work just yet. Part of him didn’t want to disturb the younger man, but the other part of him figured this could be good for Buck. Also he can’t say no to his kid.

“Let me ask him if he’s free.” Eddie will probably come over anyways, Buck can’t get mad at him, he had Chris. “Finish your breakfast first though mijo.” Chris shouts in joy and resumes eating his breakfast, bagel with fruits cause eddie can’t mess that up, with renewed rigour. Eddie smiles fondly at his kid while he takes a bit of fruit.

Eddie made Chris finish getting ready for the day. They had to do Chris’s PT, get changed, fix their hair. Eddie combed his hair back, put on a nice white shirt and a plaid button up, jeans, and some sneakers. Chris put on a yellow stripped shirt and blue pants. He waited impatiently for his dad by the door. Eddie chuckled, unlocked the door then walked with his kid to the car. “What do you want to do for today Chris?”

“We can color or Bucky says he got a new video game!”

“You don’t want to go outside?”

Chris looks at his dad curiously. Eddie helps him into the car then doubling back to get into the drivers seat. He starts the car and starts to drive. “What could we do outside?”

“You could go to the park, play on the play structure?”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “Bucky can’t fit on it though, I know, we’ve tried.” Eddie laughs out loud at that. The idea of Buck trying to fit into a play structure is way too amusing.

“Well okay then, no park, we could… go to the laser tag?”

“I promised I’d go with Denny next week though.”

“Hmmm yea we gotta keep our promises don’t we?”

“That’s what you always say.”

“Well maybe Buck will have better ideas huh?”

“Bucky has the best ideas!”

---

They get up to Buck’s apartment and Eddie doesn’t knock, instead he just lets himself in. The apartment is eerily quiet and Eddie wonders if Buck wasn’t home. “Buck, Hey Buck me and Chris are here to hang out.” He looks around the apartment for any signs of his best friend.

“Daddy look.” Chris points up to the loft to the mass on the bed.

Eddie smiles proudly at his kid. “Good job mijo. Go sit in the living room while I go rouse Buck.”

“Can I watch tv?”

“Sure kid.”

Eddie sets Chris up in the living room before heading up to Buck. The bedroom is a bit messy, loose clothes strung everywhere. The blinds are closed and all the lights are off. Any evidence Buck is here is the gigantic mass on the bed. Eddie frowns in worry, before getting to work. He opens up all the blinds and repeatedly pulled the covers off of Buck to force him to get up.

“Dude I have nothing to do today.”

“Nope, you're taking me and Chris, more importantly Chris, somewhere today. Heads up, he’s vetoed the park and laser tag and he’s downstairs. Get changed and start thinking of places to go. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Buck looks at him incredulously. “Eddie, you can’t cook.”

“Yea it’ll probably be toast or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but food is food and you need to eat.”

Eddie watches Buck calmly. Anger, confusion, acceptance and happiness flit across his face. He gives Eddie a smile before turning around. “Okay Eddie. Anything for my favorite Diaz.”

Eddie knows he means Chris, he still leaves the loft with a small smile.

---

The Diaz’s make Buck a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some strawberries Eddie found in Buck’s fridge. Buck’s in a white shirt and a plain pink button up. His hair is slightly gelled up and any trace of sadness was gone from his eyes. Happily he let Chris pull him to the kitchen table. “Wow this all looks so good buddy, did you make it?”

Chris beamed. “No Dad helped a bit.”

“You coulda convinced me otherwise.”

Chris giggled as Eddie rolled his eyes, “I cut up the strawberries.” Buck made a small noise of understanding before starting to eat. Chris quietly colored beside him. Occasionally he stole Buck’s strawberries. If Buck cared he didn’t comment on it.

“So have you picked where we’re going Buck?” Eddie asked.

“Yes actually, May’s been talking about visiting the Pier with her friends and I figured if it was good enough for her, it’s good enough for us right? You wanna go to the pier buddy?”

“What’s on the pier?”

Buck’s face lit up in a blinding smile. Quickly he starts listing off all the unhealthy snacks sold at the pier. Eddie shakes his head and mock glares at Buck, but he only gets a cheeky grin in response.

“You’re going to give him such a sugar high. Ugh, if you want to do this you have to put him to bed tonight.”

“You’re going to stay with us for the whole day?!” Chris smile could put the sun to shame. He looked eagerly between his father and his Buck.

“Sure Buddy if that’s what you want.” Chris nodded his head so fast he looked like a bobble head.

Buck chuckled, “Okay buddy, I’ll hop you up on sugar then have the pleasure of tucking you in.” Buck sent Eddie a teasing smile, only to receive an eye roll in response.

Once Buck finishes his food, the boys head for Buck’s jeep. They could’ve ridden in Eddie’s truck, but Buck likes driving more than Eddie. Chris’s car seat is transferred to the back of Buck’s jeep and they all pile in. Some top 40s song blares from the radio as they head to their destination.

The wind feels nice in Eddie’s hair. He stares out the window as he listens to Chris and Buck have an animated conversation. Eddie doesn’t really pay attention to it, but it still sounds nice, his son and best friend being happy.

“Will you ride with us Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“The bumper cars? Do you want to ride on the bumper cars with us?”

“Oh why not. You sure though, I’ll kick your butt.”

Buck squacks offendedly. “As if, I’m a pro at bumper cars Diaz. In fact I should be asking if you’re okay going against me.” Buck flashes him a cocky smile and Eddie gives him a deadpan stare. He’s impossible yet so endearing. Eddie can’t bring himself to hate it, any of it for a second.

----

Going to the pier, Eddie will admit, was a very good choice. The smell of fried food and the noise of the amusement park rides was relaxing. It felt like being back at the state fairs in Texas. Buck and Chris dragged him along to every ride and Eddie went willingly. He doesn’t remember the last time he had so much fun.

Eventually they tired down. Eddie was sitting on a bench next to Buck with a frankly gigantic brown bear on his lap. Chris is watching the surfers surf the waves down below with Buck holding onto his shirt. Eddie let himself relax after spending a whole day running after a child and a golden retriever. When Chris comforted Buck, Eddie snuck a photo of the moment. Buck was smiling sadly up at Chris while Chris held Buck’s chin in his hand. It was so sweet Eddie could’ve gotten a toothache.

He went about saving the photo when Chris started talking again. “Where did all the water go?”

---

So there was a Tsunami in California, and Eddie was in the middle of it. He really can’t have nice things. Immediately Buck grabbed Chris and together they started running off the pier. Man can’t outrun nature though and they were barely halfway across the pier when they got swept away.

---

Buck tightened his hold on Chris as he felt the water slap them around. As much as he wanted to keep Chris with him, he wasn’t stronger than the water. Eventually Buck felt Chris get torn away from him. Debris the tsunami picked up hurtled toward him. He could feel little nicks appear on his arms and legs.

When he finally broke through the surface, he spotted Chris clinging to a pole twenty feet in front of him. Carefully he angled his body so the water would take him to Chris. When he got close enough he leaped and wrapped his arms around Chris. With the same intensity, Chris clung to Buck tightly. It was nice to have proof that Chris was safe. After hearing the little guy cry out for him and Eddie, he wasn’t letting Chris go anytime soon.

For a while the duo was at the mercy of the water, but when Buck spotted a half submerged fire truck, he used his reserved energy to swim towards it. Once there, he lifted Chris onto it and then lifted himself onto it. The whole act hurt his leg, but Buck didn’t voice his pain. Quietly he breathed a sigh of relief. The open air stung his fresh cuts and his soaked clothes clung to him uncomfortably. Chris climbed into his lap and rested his head on Buck’s chest.

“Bucky, where’s my dad?”

Buck sighed, not wanted or knowing how to answer this question. “It appears that we got separated when the wave hit, but that can’t be permanent right buddy? When the water recedes we’ll go search for him okay?” Silently Chris nodded. Buck carded his hand through his curls and let his head gently hit against the truck. He breathed deeply once before getting into action.

“Hey superman, can I give you a quick check-up? I wanna make sure you aren’t too injured.” Chris nodded and Buck went about a modified version of the paramedic check up. (He’s been around Hen and Chimney to know it by heart. He also is a certified EMT.)

“You’re all healthy, kid, just a few cuts but that’s okay. Pretty amazing, I need to know your secrets.” Buck poked Chris’s cheek to make him giggle. He succeeded.

“I had you. You saved me.”

---

Somewhere along the way Eddie got separated. In the water he tried to reach for Chris or Buck, but his hand kept getting smacked by debriefs. He did it enough times that he was sure his wrist was sprained.

When he finally broke free from the waves he couldn’t tell where he was. There were string lights hanging above him and a row of nondescript red buildings. Eddie let himself be dragged along with the waves while he thought of something to do. Buck and Chris weren’t beside him, making him officially alone. He hoped they were still together, the thought of all three of them trying to survive this on their own was enough to puke.

He clutched onto his St. Christopher’s medal as he searched for someplace to grab onto. There were inflatable toys, scraps of metal, and spare tires; but nothing safe to actually hold onto. Eddie tries to groan in frustration, but he ends up swallowing a mouthful of water instead.

After another half-hour he finally sees an awning of a restaurant. He makes his way over and lies down on the awning. He breathes in deeply and lets out a slow breath. He’s safe. He’s safe and alive and all alone. Dread tries to settle in his stomach at the thought of his son. He knows he can’t think like this, but god it’s so easy too. He can only hope that Buck is with Chris, Buck will keep Chris safe.

---

When the water finally recedes, Buck climbs down the truck. The nice lady, Mrs. Violet, hands Buck Chris before climbing down herself. “Stay safe you two. Good bye.” Chris waves goodbye and Buck gives her a megawatt smile. She’s nice company while they were stuck on the truck. Buck hopes they find their husband. He waits to make sure everyone else gets down safely too.

The winds from earlier have died down. The warmth from the midday sun beaming down on him feels nice. His clothes have dried into uncomfortable messes, but it’s fine. He gave his pink button to use a tourniquet for a man with a bloody arm.

Chris tightens his hold on Buck, shifts around to get comfortable, then goes lax in his arms. “You don’t want to be let down buddy?” Chris shakes his head. Buck hmmed in acquiescence .

As an eight year old, Chris is hesitant to let people hold him. He says he’s too old for it now. The first time it happened Eddie called Buck to drink with him. Buck agreed and listened as Eddie complained at how big his kid was getting. The fact that Chris was willing to be held right now meant that he was more scared than he appeared. It made Buck worry and want Eddie. He shouldn’t be here, Eddie needs to be here to console his kid.

Buck hiked up Chris further up his hip then started walking. He didn’t know which way he should go, just hoped wherever he went would lead him to Eddie.

---

Eddie fell asleep. He fell asleep on top of the awning waiting for something to happen. It wasn’t a great sleep, he kept seeing Christopher get torn away from him. Eddie shocked himself awake and took stock of his surroundings. The water was gone, leaving in its wake the debris it swept away. Also dead bodies. If Eddie had anything to puke up he’d be hurling.

Okay, okay, you can’t stay here. You gotta go find your kid. How… Eddie thought. Call someone? Call Buck! Or Bobby or Carla! Hope invigorated him to pull his phone out despite the fact that his wrist was definitely broken. Hope left him when he saw his completely waterlogged phone. Okay Plan A was bust on to Plan B… whatever that was.

The awning was connected to a pole that he could climb down. Best way to find his kid and his best friend was to look for them. Slowly he made his way to an edge of an awning. Then he edged himself off the edge slowly and feet first. Eddie wrapped his feet around the pole and shimmied down.

There were a few stranglers around him, similarly confused and lost. He tried asking them if they’d seen his lost kid or best friend. Unhelpfully they shook their heads no. Eddie sighed and continued walking.

----

Buck’s arms were on fire. His leg was also on fire. He’s pretty sure he was also bleeding something… not good. Holding Chris and walking around for hours in the hot sun hadn’t been kind to him. Buck was still searching for Eddie or a hospital. Finding Eddie was better than finding a hospital, but at this point he’d take either.

Technically he had found two hospitals already, but they were filled to the brink. The wait was astronomical and there was no place to sit. And there was no Eddie. He let a nurse check Chris out and give them some supplies, water and granola bars, before heading out. In hindsight he should’ve also asked for a phone to call someone but he forgot.

Chris had long since passed out in his arms. The kid's soft breaths on his necks was very reassuring. It was part of the reason Buck didn’t want to let him down. Another reason was because he wanted to physically pass Chris off to Eddie. Who is fine. He’s healthy and fit and able to carry his kid when Buck finds him. ‘Cause he will find him, Buck can’t not find him.

Chris shifting in his arm brought Buck back to the present. “Bucky? Bucky, I'm tired.”

“I know superman, you’re okay. I heard there's a new hospital a few blocks from here. They’ll be able to help us.”

“Okay Bucky. Can I have ice cream when we get there?”

“We deserve it don’t we? Still need to ask your dad though buddy.”

“Why? He’s not the boss of you?”

“This is a trick.”

---

After searching for Buck and Chris for five hours (and getting nowhere his evil mind adds) he’s starting to lose hope he can find them on his own. No one has seen a tall man in a pink button up nor a little boy in a yellow striped shirt. Eddie’s poor heart doesn’t know whether or not to implode at that. By now the sun has started setting. The winds aren’t as refreshing as they once were.

As he made his way down another debris filled street, two first responders found him. Eddie resists their attempts at checking him over for any injuries at first. He needs to find his partner and his kid, but he’s also tired. The first responders seem to pick up on this. They promise him that they’ll help him find his kid and partner if he just cooperates. This is how they cajoole him into going to a hospital. With promises of phone calls to his kid and a message passed around to the other first responders that Firefighter Eddie Diaz of the 118 is looking for his partner Evan Buckley and his son Chris Diaz.

This satisfies Eddie a great deal and he then becomes a much better patient. (He’s still grumpy and aloof, but now he’s tolerant). He’s almost fine, acquired a cut on his right arm, broke his left wrist, is dehydrated and exhausted. One of the first responders tosses him a bottle of water on the way to their destination. Eddie finds out when they arrive that it’s a VA hospital set up specifically as a halfway point for the sick and wounded.

The first responders usher him in through the door and into the hands of a nurse. They describe his injuries, and tell her about his missing family. He’d correct them but the statement doesn’t feel wrong anyways. The nurse takes him to a free cot before giving him a check up too.

The first responders hit the nail on the head with his list of injuries. Since it’s not severe he doesn’t need to be transported to the hospital right away, although it is recommended. She leaves to go get him pain meds and once again, Eddie is alone. The people in the cots beside him don’t count. Hell one’s unconscious and the other one is having an intimate looking conversion with a loved one. There are tears, Eddie looks away.

To keep himself busy Eddie makes a to do list of what he needs to do next. Find Christopher. Give him a big hug. Give Buck a big hug. Sleep. Tell people he’s okay. Buy a new phone. Buy ice cream. The last one isn’t technically an emergency but forgive him he’s in pain.

The nurse comes back with a wrap for his wrist and disinfectant and band aids. He finishes his water while she works. The nurse tells him he’s lucky his wound isn’t infected. Eddie nods, mind focused on something else.

“This is awkward, but my phone got damaged in the tsunami and I need to tell some people I’m okay. Is it alright if I borrow your phone and make some calls?”

The nurse smiles and nodds. She gets out her iphone, unlocks it and gets out the phone app. Eddie takes it gingerly and thinks of who to call first. His parents? Ha. He could call his sisters, but if they don’t know then he didn’t want to worry them. He’d call Tia Pepa but she’s probably with Abuela already so calling Abuela’s home phone is the best bet.

She’s calm if not incredibly saddened when she picks up the phone. Abuela lets out a fast stream of spanish that’s said through tears once she realizes its him. He waits patiently for her to finish talking before reassuring her she’s fine. Eddie wants to tell her about Christopher, but he’s worried about Abuela having a heart attack so instead he promises to bring Chris over for lunch tomorrow. He then talks to Tia Pepa for a bit, but there’s not much new to say because Abuela had the phone call on speaker. She thanks god that he’s okay and that he better see her as soon as possible.

When they hang up he immediately calls Bobby. As he waits for him to pick up the phone he gives the nurse a sheepish smile and promises that this is the last call.

“Hello Bobby Nash, who is this?”

“Bobby? It’s Eddie, listen, my phone got damaged in the tsunami. Buck, Chris and I were at the pier and I can’t find them anymore Bobby.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Eddie, you need to breathe. Okay breathe.” Eddie rubs his hand over his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

“Okay Where are you right now.”

“The new VA hospital they set up.”

“Okay I know where that is. I’m going to send out a message to keep an eye out for Buck and Christopher. I’ll also ask Maddie to start calling the hospitals to see if they have Buck. We’re going to find them okay Eddie. Buck’s a fighter, we’re going to find him and Chris.”

“I know Cap it’s just-.”

“Hey Hey, this isn’t your fault, you can’t blame yourself for this. Stay there at the hospital so we know where to send Buck and Chris when we find them.”

“Yeah okay, okay, okay.”

“Okay, are you okay?”

“Umm yeah I’m fine, shallow cut and sprained wrist. I’m fine Cap, it's Buck and Chris.”

“I know that, but I worry about you too. I gotta go, they need me, but take care of yourself okay? Stay safe?”

“Yes sir.” Bobby hung up and Eddie gave the nurse back her phone.

The nurse left almost immediately to tend to other patients. Eddie took a deep breath before taking the next step. He knew someone had to have a list of patients at this hospital somewhere, he just had to figure out who. Eddie got up from his cot to start looking around.

The first few people were a bust. Lady #1 was actually a nurse who just finished tending to a patient. Man #2 was actually an off duty first responder helping out. Lady and Man #3 and #4 were family of some of the victims of the tsumai. Eddie was starting to get frustrated. He needed to find his son and partner quickly. The longer they were out there the more Eddie’s insides turned into knots.

He walked forward towards the entrance and saw a woman with a clipboard. “Hello ma’am is that a list of patients for the VA hospital?”

The woman turned toward him and smiled politely. “Yes it is. Who are you looking for?”

“My son Christopher Diaz. He’s 8 years old and about 4 feet 5 inches tall. He was wearing a yellow striped shirt and khakis. I’m also looking for my partner Evan Buckley. Late twenties 6’2’’ wearing a pink button up, white shirt and some jeans. He has an identifiable birth mark on his right eyebrow that could be mistaken for a burn scar.”

The lady pursed her lips as she scanned through the papers. Eddie tried not to loom or tap his foot as he waited. When her face fell and she frowned he tried not to cry or get violent. “No, I’m sorry sir, I don’t have anyone like that listed here. They could be at another hospital, or,” the lady pointed to a nearby tent, “they could be there.”

Eddie followed his gaze to the place she was pointing at. “The, the-” black trash bags were piled in front of a stark white tent. That could mean it was only one type of place.

“I’m so sorry sir, if your family is actually there.” Eddie barely nodded at her, listlessly making his way over to the tent. Part of him wanted to believe that Buck and Christopher was at another hospital, but if they were, wouldn’t they have been found by someone. Wouldn’t Eddie have tangible proof that they were alive? Tears started streaming down Eddie’s face. His knees started to wobble as he started scanning through the list of the deceased kept just outside the doors of the tent.

---

“Eddie! Has anyone seen an Eddie Diaz?!” A loud voice echoed in the background. Eddie frowned. It sounded a lot like Buck, but he- the lady said he was-

“My name is Evan Buckley, have you seen Edmundo Diaz?” The voice was slightly softer this time. Eddie turned around and almost fell to his knees. There, bathed in the LED lights was his best friend clutching his child in his arms. Eddie sobbed and started running to them.

“Buck! Buck!”

“Eddie?” Buck wanted to run to Eddie, but walking was hard enough. He stayed where he was and let Eddie run into him. It didn’t take long. Buck quickly felt Eddie wrap his arms around both him and Christopher.

It was then in his best friend's arms that Buck finally let the weight of the day catch up to him. His knees buckled and he went boneless in Eddie’s arms. Said man took it like a champ, first he made sure he had a secure hold on Chris, then he let himself sink to the ground with Buck. The younger man rested his back on Eddie’s chest and relaxed. The uncomfortable, burning pressure on his legs and arms was finally eased. Buck made a happy little sigh and burrowed further into Eddie, just as Chris was doing in his sleep. Maybe he should’ve been embarrassed by it but he just spent over five hours slowly losing hope that he would ever find Eddie alive. It would take the fear of God to separate them.

Eddie seemed to have the same idea. The arm that wasn’t around Christopher tightened around Buck’s waist. The younger man could hear his partner murmur prayers in what he thought was spanish. Tears, of what Buck hoped was relief fell from Eddie’s face onto Buck’s shoulder.

“Oh god, oh my god, I thought- I-” Eddie rambled, finding his voice again.

“Hey, hey hey, I’m fine. Me and Chris are all right.”

Eddie made a disbelieving noise. “Okay my leg hurts like a bitch and I probably have one too many cuts, but it’s nothing life threatening.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Not after the day I’ve had.”

“In a minute we should get you checked out.”

“Aww you can’t do it for me?” Buck shifted his head slightly to bat his eyes at Eddie.

“No, an unbiased professional should handle you,” Eddie whispered hoping the night sky would hide his blush. Buck nodded and listened to Eddie breathing.

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Buck whispered, like a mantra. He brought Eddie’s hand up to rest above his heart so Eddie could feel his heart beat. “We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Even though Buck actually did need medical help, the trio stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the fact that all three of them were lucky enough to make it out alive and to return to each other.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 #911 fox #we're all fic writers here #ella's 911 fox fics

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galacticlee3 · 3 years

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Castle Chase

Squealing Santa 2020 fic for @atzgiggle!

This is my first year participating in this event, hosted by the lovely @ticklygiggles, and I hope that you like this fic lovely receiver! I combined two of the prompts you listed bc I too am a sucker for fantasy/royal AUs and I’m happy to deliver!

also this is such a bad title I’m sorry

Summary: IwaOi royal AU in which Iwaizumi is Oikawa’s best friend outside the castle and is the son of the Royal Gaurd Captain who is good friends with Oikawa’s mother, the queen. The two have been dating in secret (it’s not a secret okay they’re super obvious but they think they’re super sneaky)

Warnings: none! Just some nice fluffy iwaoi

—————

The Kingdom of Oluya had been a small, yet respected part of Eun for generations. Queen Nemuri, Oikawa’s mother, ruled over the kingdom with pride and love for all her subjects. But she was especially proud of her two sons, Oikawa and Kageyama. Although Kageyama was not her biological son, she loved him and his brother with the whole world, and it showed. The kingdom cherished her love for her sons and people. The castle staff raised Oikawa along with his mother and his late father, but one of the strongest influences on his life came from his best friend and the son of the Royal Gaurd Captain: Iwaizumi.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were in a league all of their own. Now seventeen, both were highly sought after by many in the kingdom due to their riches, status, and looks, but they only really spent time with a tight knit group of people and with each other. Living around the same castle for their entire lives meant that they had practically known each other forever. Iwaizumi being the son of the Royal Gaurd Captain and Oikawa being the son of the Queen, the two became fast friends and formed a strong bond. As they grew up, the boys were practically inseperable. They were rarely seen on the city streets without one another and the whole castle, if not most of the kingdom, knew how close they were. What had started as an unbreakable friendship soon blossomed into a mutual pining catastrophe which both of them liked to tease each other about. But nevertheless, two years ago, Oikawa and Iwaizumi started dating. However, they did it in secret, stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching, going on secluded dates, and just being dorks in the castle because if you have an entire castle to at your disposal, why not use it to chase each other down and get the entire staff in on it to have some fun?

“Marie, you gotta help me, Iwa is after me again, can I hide in the kitchen-”

Oikawa was cut off by the pitter patter of boots on the stone hallway bordering his. He cursed and sprinted away from the cook down the hall. Iwaizumi had more stamina from years of training, but Oikawa was faster, ducking into the library before his boyfriend was around the corner. He hid behind a bookshelf and crouched down, hoping Iwaizumi would pass by.

Oikawa heard the muffled speech of Iwa and Marie down the hall and he prayed that she wouldn’t sell him out, but he got his answer as the slow approach of footsteps reached his ears.

“ToooOooruuuu, are you in here?” Iwaizumi sang, his voice cracking on purpose to make Oikawa laugh, and it almost got him too.

“I know you’re in heeeeerreeeee.” So Marie did sell him out. That wasn’t surprising considering last time they played this little game, he accidentally spilled everything trying to hide behind a flour sack. Come to think of it, why did he keep trying to hide in the kitchen? Maybe next time he should-

Teasing tiptoes pulled him out of his thoughts. Iwaizumi was two shelves down, too close for comfort. He shuffled as quietly as he could to theother side of the shelf, pressing his body against it.

Right into Iwa’s waiting arms.

He grabbed the already giggling Oikawa and gently pulled him to the ground. “I found you,” Iwaizumi chuckled and started tracing lightly on Oikawa’s stomach. “Wahahaihit, Iwa-chan!”

“No waiting for cookie stealers,” he said as he started shaking his fingers into Oikawa’s stomach to get the squeaky laughter that he loved.

“IheheE dihIDihN’t sTeEAhehehaL ihihiIHt!” Oikawa cried through his laughter as Iwaizumi moved one hand to scribble in his armpits.

“Pff- what happened then? Did it magically disappear?”

“YEHeHeEs!”

Iwaizumi laughed along with his cackling boyfriend as he pinched along his thighs in a way that he knew would drive Oikawa mad.

“NOHOOHOHOHO,” Oikawa squealed, shaking his head and grabbing onto Iwa’s sides for purchase, which caused a few giggles to erupt out of the other boy. Oikawa tried desperately to get Iwaizumi off his worst spot, scribbling and poking anywhere he could reach to distract him, and it wasn’t working until he reached Iwa’s hips. He dug in weakly with his thumbs and Iwa let out a surprised shriek and fell off of him trying to get away, but Oikawa was too quick.

“Try a taste of your own medicine, Hajime,” Oikawa crowed before leaning down and peppering kisses all around Iwa’s ears and neck while squeezing up and down his sides and hips. He erupted into boisterous laughter that filled the whole library with happiness.

“IhihiHI cAugHt YOuhuhu! Lehemmeehe gohoho!” Oikawa laughed and got off him with peck to his nose.

“You’re lucky I’m so nice Iwa-chan, or else you would have been done for with those hips of yours,” he laughed and helped his partner up to sit against a bookshelf.

“Oh shuhut uhup, you’re just as bahad, probably worse,” Iwa retorted with a squeeze to Oikawa’s thigh which made him jump. Oikawa looked at him with a content smile on his face and Iwaizumi pulled him into a kiss which he happily accepted. Oikawa laced his hands behind Iwa’s shoulders and Iwa smiled into the kiss, whispering, “I still won.” onto his boyfriend’s lips.

#galactic writes #squealingsanta2k20 #haikyuu #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu tickling #haikyuu tickles #iwaoi #iwaoi fluff #royal au #haikyuu royal au #haikyuu tickle fic #haikyuu fic #iwaoi fic #iwaoi au

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rhosyn-du · 3 years

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Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Two

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Two

They didn’t talk more about it later. Jace barely saw Simon at all over the following couple weeks, in fact. It’s not that he was intentionally avoiding Simon, but they both had final exams to study for, and Simon was wrapped up in guitar ensemble rehearsals for the winter concert on top of that. If Jace had spent a little more of his study time in the library than was strictly necessary and that just happened to prevent any further discussions of dispays of physical affection and practice dates, that was entirely beside the point.

What Jace hadn’t counted on was how unprepared he’d feel pulling up outside the Queen Anne style townhouse he’d called home for most of his childhood. He suddenly wished he’d let Simon talk him into driving together and using the drive as a last minute planning session, even if it meant they’d need to coordinate their trip back to Boston. As much as he’d been avoiding talking about their plan, it really only occurred to Jace on the drive how much he wished they actually had, you know, a plan.

“Wow,” Simon said, hopping out of the hand-painted van he’d parked right behind Jace’s car. “Is that an actual turret?”

“Yup, gotta love those late 19th century architectural fads,” Jace answered as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. “The house belonged to Maryse’s grandparents, and I’ve never been able to tell how much she actually likes the style and how much is just childhood nostalgia, but she hasn’t even changed much of the interior except for renovations and repairs.”

“I have a hard time imagining growing up in a place like this,” Simon said as he joined Jace with his own suitcase in hand. “And it’s not like my mom’s house is tiny or anything, but this is just...” He waved a hand vaguely at the house. “A lot.”

He didn’t ask why Jace was sharing a tiny apartment furnished entirely secondhand if his family lived in a house like this, and Jace didn’t offer an explanation.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Jace said, even though there was plenty to be nervous about. “I promise the house doesn’t bite.”

“Yeah, less worried about the house than the people in it,” Simon told him.

“I thought you were, like, the parent whisperer,” Jace teased. “Isn’t that why you offered to come with me? Because you make a great boyfriend? Trust me, as long as Alec and Izzy think you make me happy, they’ll love you, and you know more about comics than anyone I’ve ever met, so Max will love you regardless.”

“Okay,” Simon said, releasing a heavy breath. “Okay, thanks. You’re right, I just got a little intimidated by the house, but this is all going to be fine.”

“Maryse is probably going to hate you, though,” Jace continued, keeping his face carefully deadpan. “She hates everyone we bring home. It’s like a rite of passage. But you’re great with parents, so I’m sure you’ll at least avoid intentional food poisoning.”

Simon stared at him in horror, and Jace couldn’t keep a hit of a smile from breaking through.

“I hate you,” Simon told him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jace said, “I’m pretty sure the food poisoning wasn’t actually intentional.”

“Wait, there was actual food poisoning?”

“Come on,” Jace said, heading toward the door. “I want to get inside before we freeze to death.”

“You are such a dick sometimes,” Simon muttered, catching up to him.

Then, he slipped his free hand into Jace’s like it was a totally normal thing to do, and Jace had to catch himself from tripping over the steps.

“Careful,” Simon said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to make a very good impression on your family if you fall and break your neck before we even get inside.”

And there was just nothing to say to that, to how uncomfortable it wasn’t to have Simon’s hand in his like this, to the way it made him want. So Jace simply rolled his eyes and pushed open the front door, letting the scent of home wrap around him like a warm blanket.

“Okay,” Simon said quietly as he surveyed the entryway, complete with antique chandelier. “Feeling a little intimidated again.” And it was so easy for Jace to just give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you made it,” a warm voice greeted them. “With as bad as traffic has been, we thought you’d be another hour at least.”

“Hey, man,” Jace said, dropping Simon’s hand so he could pull his brother into a hug. “People must be staying home for the holidays this year, because we barely hit any traffic at all.” He glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“Iz should be here any minute, Max is holed up in his room playing video games with his friends, and Magnus is helping Mom with some last-minute grocery shopping for dinner tomorrow.” Alec held out a hand to Simon. “I’m Alec, since Jace apparently can’t be bothered to make introductions like a civilized person.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said, giving his hand a quick shake, “I gave up on the idea of Jace being civilized the first time I saw him eat pizza that had been sitting out on the counter for three days.”

“That was your pizza,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah,” Simon said, “which I was going to throw away because I forgot about it for three days.”

“On the subject of uncivilized,” Jace said, turning back to Alec, who was looking just a little too pleased, “you really sent Magnus shopping with Maryse? Buddy, if you decided you don’t want to marry the guy, just break it off with him. You don’t have to throw him to the wolves like that.”

Alec’s tiny smile became a little less tiny and a whole lot softer. “Magnus and Mom have actually been getting along lately. She wanted his opinion on wine pairings, so they went to the store and left me here so I can pull the bread out of the oven when it’s done. It’s very weird, but also nice.”

“That does sound very weird,” Jace told him, “but I’m glad things are working out and Maryse has found some level of chill somewhere.”

“Hopefully that means I won’t get poisoned,” Simon said.

Alec snorted. “If you want to avoid it, you should probably avoid mentioning you know about that. Or any other embarrassing family stories Jace might have shared with you.”

“And don’t eat anything Izzy hands you,” Jace added. “Anything she cooks probably won’t kill you, but the taste will make you wish you were dead.”

“So, I should just fast while I’m here,” Simon said. “Good to know.”

Jace led Simon upstairs to drop off their bags while Alec checked on the bread.

“Just toss your bag anywhere,” Jace said, opening the door to his old room. “We can argue over who gets which side of the dresser later.”

“Sure,” Simon said cheerfully, “as long as we can be civil deciding who gets which side of the bed.” He stopped just inside the doorway. “Wow, okay. The apparently very small bed.”

And this really was something that should have occurred to him, Jace realized. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered that he’d be sharing a bed with Simon. They’d even talked about it, briefly, and agreed it was no big deal. But Jace hadn’t considered exactly how much smaller his childhood bed was than the generous queen he slept in back home. It was technically large enough to fit two grown men, but only technically.

“Don’t worry,” Jace said, falling back on his trademark bravado, “I won’t get mad if you cuddle me in your sleep. I know you can’t help it if your subconscious recognizes that I’m irresistible.”

“I’m more worried about your freakishly sharp elbows,” Simon muttered.

“As long as you don’t snore or steal the covers, you won’t have to worry about my elbows,” Jace told him. He was planning to keep his elbows, and the rest of him, as far away from Simon as possible. Which, given the size of the bed, was maybe three inches.

“Dude, I do not snore,” Simon protested. “You know that; we live together.”

“You absolutely snore after your fourth drink.”

“I wasn’t planning to get drunk with your family,” Simon said, tossing his bag onto the bed.

“You say that now,” Jace said, leaving his own bag next to the door. “But wait until you get the full Lightwood Christmas experience before deciding you want to spend the whole thing sober.”

“If your family drives me to drink, you don’t get to blame me for snoring,” Simon countered. Which was probably fair, but Jace was saved from having to admit that by the sound of voices coming from downstairs.

“That’d be Izzy,” Jace said, “and we’d better get down there before she accuses me of trying to hide you from her.”

“Jace,” called a singsong voice, right on cue, “quit making out with your mystery hottie and get down here so we can actually meet him.”

“You should be careful making demands like that,” Jace called back. “What if I’m not wearing any pants?”

“We’ve all seen it. Get your ass down here “

“I like your sister already,” Simon told him.

“You say that now, but wait until she decides you count as family. She won’t be any better with you.” He took Simon’s hand. Because it helped sell their relationship. Because he could. Simon laced their fingers together, and Jace tried not to feel any way about that at all as he led Simon back down the stairs.

They only made it a couple steps before Simon came to a complete stop, almost causing Jace to trip the rest of the way down the staircase. He heard Simon mutter a soft ‘oh crap’ at the same time a bright, redheaded whirlwind came rushing up the stairs at them.

“Oh my god, Simon?” Clary grabbed Simon into a giant bearhug, effectively tearing his hand out of Jace’s. “You’re Jace’s mystery boyfriend? How did I not know about this? You didn’t even tell me you were dating anyone, you jerk! What happened to best friend gossip privileges?”

Clary pulled back from the hug, and now that Jace could actually see her face, he could see the hint of concern she was trying to hide under her wide smile.

“Clary. Hi,” Simon said, eyes wide. “I was going to tell you, I swear. It’s just, this is kind of new and so...” He trailed off, looking panicked. His eyes caught Jace’s. “But, uh, yeah. This is Jace. My boyfriend. Jace, this is my best friend, Clary Fray.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, looking between the two of them and feeling more than a little out of his depth. He’d planned for things to be weird, but not this weird. “We’ve met.” He flashed Clary a smile. “Fray, huh?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t keep his name. Not after...after everything. Fray is the name Mom used before she married Luke. It’s the name I remember her having when I was little, so.” She shrugged. “I filed the paperwork to have it legally changed the day I turned eighteen.”

“It suits you,” Jace told her, and let himself be pulled into a tight hug that he suspected was as much because she needed one as that she was glad to see him. Clary had never told him much about the biological father she barely knew, but she’d told him enough to know that Clary held him responsible for her mother’s death, even if the courts had cleared him of any wrongdoing.

“Thanks,” Clary whispered, before surreptitiously drying her eyes on his shoulder and pulling back to flash a smile that was less forced than Jace expected. “So, tell me how this happened without me hearing about it.” She bumped Jace with her shoulder. “And if it’s so new, what possessed you to subject Simon to your family holidays?”

“Hey,” Izzy said, walking up behind Clary and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. Jace had to admit, they looked...well, right together. “That’s my family, too, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Clary said, offering a soft grin over her shoulder. “And the fact that I’m here should tell you exactly how much I love you.”

“Fair,” Izzy said, then looked at Simon. “So, how’d my brother convince you to join this circus?”

“We made a trade,” Simon said, straight-faced. “I put up with his family for Christmas and he puts up with mine for my cousin Rachel’s wedding.” He leaned in and told Izzy in a stage whisper, “Also, I’m weak for his smile, but don’t tell him I said that, because he will abuse it.”

“You say that like I don’t already abuse it,” Jace said, sliding his arm around Simon’s waist in a mirror of Izzy and Clary’s pose. “And to answer your earlier question, us being officially together is new, but we’ve been sort of on the verge of dating for ages. Practically since we started sharing an apartment last year.”

Clary let out a peal of delighted laughter. “Oh, you’re the roommate. It makes sense now.” Before Jace could ask what made sense, she was pulling the both of them into a tight hug. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“If I’d known you were going to be this excited, I definitely would have mentioned it sooner,” Simon said, pulling back from the hug.

Jace tried to catch his eye, wondering what on earth was going on. He knew both Clary and Simon well enough to know he was missing something, but he had no idea what it was. Simon ignored him, and that just made Jace more suspicious.

“Come on,” Izzy said. “You can have your hug fest later. Right now, I want to help Alec get things set up in the kitchen and maybe surprise Mom by getting dinner started before she gets back.”

Jace and Clary exchanged a panicked look, and Jace frantically searched his mind for excuses to keep Izzy busy. He didn’t actually want a repeat of the food poisoning episode, after all.

“Actually,” Simon said, turning a bright smile on Izzy. “I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to show me your Lego Star Wars collection before we get too wrapped up in family stuff. Jace mentioned you have the deluxe Imperial Star Destroyer set from the early 2000’s, and I’ve never actually seen one in person.”

“Oh,” Izzy said, looking torn. “I’m not sure—”

“We can help Alec in the kitchen,” Clary said quickly. “You two go do your nerd thing. I knew this was inevitable when I finally introduced you two anyway. And this way I get the chance to harass my bestie’s new boyfriend without him in the way trying to keep me from learning the embarrassing details.”

“You know, on second thought—” Simon began, looking slightly panicked.

“Come on,” Izzy interrupted, smiling brightly and grabbing his hand.

Simon flashed Clary a betrayed look, then looked to Jace for support. Jace simply smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, love muffin,” he said mildly. “I’d never intentionally embarrass you.”

“I want you to know that I hate both of you,” Simon said before allowing Izzy to drag him back up the stairs.

“My collection is all still in my old room,” Izzy said. “Clary and I have been looking for an apartment big enough I can actually move the rest of my stuff out of here, but so far we haven’t found anything in our price range.”

Jace turned back to Clary. “Exactly what kind of embarrassing stories were you hoping for? Because I have many.”

Clary shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more embarrassing Simon stories than you do. I’ve got almost two decades worth. But I was actually hoping to talk to you alone anyway, and this seems like the best chance we’re going to get.”

Jace followed her down the stairs and into the study. “Sounds serious. You planning to give me a shovel talk?”

Clary laughed, shaking her head. “No, I know you, remember? I’m not worried about you hurting Simon. Well,” she amended, “not any more than I am about him hurting you.” She met his eyes with a soft smile. “You might be the only person I know with a heart as big as Simon’s, as much as you try to hide it.”

Jace looked away. It had been two years since the last time he’d seen her, and she could still see right to the heart of him. He didn’t want to know what she’d see if she kept looking. “Clary—”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she teased. “But I didn’t actually bring you out here to talk about Simon. I wanted to apologize.”

Jace frowned, looking back at her. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He was more than a little grateful not to have Clary grilling him about his entirely fabricated relationship, but he wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I promised to keep in touch when you moved away, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jace said, even if maybe it had been at first. Those first few months at school had been hard. Jace always thought he was used to being alone, especially after his mother’s suicide, but he found out just how much he’d come to rely on his new family when he didn’t see them every day. They’d kept in touch, of course, but with Izzy immersed in her studies and Alec all wrapped up in his new relationship with Magnus, it wasn’t anything like what it had been when they were all under one roof.

For a while, he and Clary had been in touch nearly every day, sometimes texting multiple times a day. Jace told her about his classes and how much he liked Boston, and Clary told him all about trying to narrow down which art schools she wanted to apply to. It was almost the same sort of easy friendship they’d had before he left, after they agreed they were better off as friends.

But after a couple months, Clary’s messages came less and less often, and eventually stopped altogether. Jace tried not to let it bother him, but he started drinking a bit too much and going to a few too many parties. Which was how he’d met Maia, his attempts at flirting somehow leading to him getting his ass handed to him at beer pong, and soon he found himself with an entire group of new friends. Although Maia insisted for almost a year that she and Jace were merely antagonistic acquaintances.

Clary gave him a look that told him she knew exactly how full of it he was. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I was a shitty friend,” she told him. “Especially because I did it on purpose. Izzy and I started getting close and I started to have feelings for her, and I didn’t know what to say to you about it. I didn’t know how to even talk to you about what was going on in my life without mentioning that she was becoming such a big part of it.”

“You didn’t actually have to hide it from me, you know,” Jace said. “I was surprised when Izzy first told me, but I’m mostly just glad you’re both happy. And seeing you together, I know you both are.”

“Thanks,” Clary said. “I didn’t want to hurt you or make things weird. For a while, I thought I could just ignore what I was feeling, but Iz is just... She’s not someone you can ignore, you know?”

“Oh, I know exactly how hard my sister is to ignore, believe me.” Jace stopped, considered, then admitted something he had never said—would never say—to another person. But this was Clary, and he knew she would never repeat it. And even if she did, he could always play it off as part of the act. “She and Simon have that in common. You know, I actually thought I hated him at first? He’s so enthusiastic about everything, and so sincere, and just.” He shrugged. “Not the kind of person I thought would ever do it for me.”

“But he won you over with his boyish charm?” Clary guessed.

“Mm,” Jace agreed. And the way he loved without reserve. Not just his family and friends, but his music, his favorite films, even the crappy nachos from the 7-11 down the block from their apartment. Simon loved every part of life, and being around him, Jace could almost imagine what that felt like. “Well, that and his abs.”

“Can’t forget those,” Clary laughed.

“Not with how often he eats breakfast shirtless,” Jace agreed. “Come on. If we aren’t in the kitchen by the time Izzy gets back downstairs, you know she’ll try to help Alec herself, and I was kind of hoping for dinner to be edible.”

~~~

Dinner was surprisingly painless. Maryse was more relaxed and happy than Jace had ever seen her, and he couldn’t help wondering how much of that was related to the very unsubtle smiles she kept exchanging with Clary’s stepfather. Even Max, who was deep in throes of preteen scorn, grudgingly admitted that Simon being in a band was “pretty cool” and joined in on some of Simon, Clary, and Izzy’s excited nerd talk that went entirely over Jace’s head.

After dinner, they retired to the living room for eggnog and carols. Jace limited himself to a single cup of Magnus’s infamous eggnog, knowing better than to let himself get drunk when he was putting on a show for his family. Or sharing his tiny bed with Simon.

As usual, Jace let himself get pushed over the piano to play. He felt something in him settle as soon as he rested his fingers on the keys of Maryse’s baby grand, the feel different and so much more familiar than the ancient keyboard he had back in Boston or the well-used uprights in the practice rooms at school.

When Jace had first come to live with the Lightwoods, he’d been afraid to touch the piano. His mother had put him in lessons as soon as he was old enough, but she hated to listen to him play and often chastised him for not being a better player, saying he should be better at it with how talented his father was. Now, he understood that it was just another manifestation of the combined grief and mental illness that led to Celine’s death, but at the time he’d hated how awful he was at playing, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it.

But Maryse knew he played and encouraged him to use her piano. She told him that it had been her father’s, and though she’d taken lessons herself as a child, she’d never really loved it the way he had. She said that the instrument deserved to be loved, and as long as Jace loved playing it, she didn’t care how good he was or wasn’t.

It was the first time he’d really felt like this could be his home.

“Okay,” Jace said after the third version of O Tannenbaum with ridiculous altered lyrics—this one courtesy of Simon rather than Max or Clary, about an ill-fated toad who chose the wrong moment to cross the street, “I think my fingers are done for the night.”

“Oh, come on,” Clary said. “Simon and I have at least a dozen more of these we came up with when we were kids.”

“When we were little, I only knew the lyrics to the Christmas songs they played on the radio, so Fray made up silly lyrics to the other ones and told me they were real,” Simon explained. “And it made her so happy that I went along with it even for the couple I did know.”

“There will be plenty of time for more singing tomorrow,” Maryse said. “But if I know this one,” she continued, smiling at Max, “we’re all going to be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn for presents.”

“Mom,” Max whined, “I’m not a kid anymore. I know the presents will still be there whenever I get up.”

“I seem to remember someone who looked an awful lot like you waking us up before sunrise last year,” Magnus said with exaggerated confusion. “Perhaps you have a twin I haven’t met?”

Max fixed him with a withering look. “Last year, I was eleven. This year I’m twelve,” he said, as though that explained it.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve grown out of it,” Alec told him. “Because I intend to sleep in. And if you try to get me out of bed early, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

“Oh, no need for that, darling,” Magnus said cheerfully. “I’ll just barricade the door before we go to sleep so he can’t get to us.”

“Brilliant,” Alec said, giving Magnus a frankly sappy smile. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“And on that note,” Jace said, “I think I’m going to head to bed before I die of sweetness overdose.”

“Oh, please,” Magnus said, giving him an unimpressed look. “We all saw you and Simon making eyes at each other over those cookies you were frosting earlier.”

“It’s true,” Izzy said before Jace could protest. “You don’t get to tease Alec about being a sap anymore, not now that we’ve all actually seen you with someone you love.”

Jace froze, his mouth half open, then quickly snapped it shut. It made sense that Izzy would assume. He’d brought Simon home for Christmas, after all. That was the story they were selling even if they hadn’t actually discussed it, even if it wasn’t something Jace had said or even implied. And whatever he did feel for Simon, it certainly wasn’t love. It was, at best, a friendly crush. A very intense friendly crush.

Izzy seemed to realize her mistake, glancing between him and Simon with a look of dawning panic.

“No, you’re misunderstanding how this works,” Simon said easily, because of course Izzy’s words hadn’t sent him into a panic the way they had Jace. “Jace gets to tease Alec, and you, and you both get to tease him back.”

“Yep,” Clary agreed. “Those are the rules, because that means I still get to tease Simon.”

“Please,” Izzy said. “Clary and I are too sophisticated to be sappy.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call Clary ‘cuddle bug’ earlier,” Alec said.

“And I definitely saw you laugh at that terrible joke she told at dinner,” Jace added.

“She ate one of the cookies you made,” Max accused.

“Yeah, sorry, cutie,” Clary said. “We’re really pretty sappy.”

“Fine,” Izzy huffed. “But I just think you’re all jealous because I’ve got the cutest girlfriend.”

“Yes, Izzy,” Alec said drily. “You’ve uncovered my secret. I’m extremely jealous of your girlfriend.”

“I knew it,” Izzy said smugly, as though Alec had been perfectly sincere.

“Definitely in danger of dying of sweetness overdose,” Jace said.

That set off another round of teasing, this time with Izzy throwing in not so subtle attempts to drag Maryse and Luke into it. Jace wasn’t sure why Izzy was so determined to make the two admit there was something between them. It was obvious there was just from the way they acted around each other. Maryse would tell them when she was ready, just like she had when she and Robert filed for divorce.

It was almost another hour before Jace finally made his way up the stairs toward his room. He was surprised when Simon rose to follow him, but didn’t say anything until they were back in his room.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay to nerd out with Clary and Iz some more.”

“I get to talk to Clary all the time,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll be easier to keep up the whole fake boyfriend thing if I don’t let her get me alone. She’d definitely figure out something’s up if I let her start grilling me about our relationship. Also, you don’t get to call me a nerd when you know just as much about Star Wars as I do.”

“It’s impossible to grow up with Izzy and not know way too much about Star Wars,” Jace said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it over a chair. “Are you still sure about doing this? Neither of us counted on Clary, and I’ll understand if you want to back out.”

“Huh?” Simon said, sounding distracted. Jace turned to look at him and thought he detected the faintest flush on Simon’s cheeks when he met his eyes. “I mean, yeah, no, I’m not backing out.” He gave an uncomfortable shrug as he pulled a set of pajamas out of his suitcase. “The last thing I want is to have to explain this whole thing to Clary.”

“Good point,” Jace agreed, turning around to put on his own pajama bottoms. It was tempting to watch Simon change, but it was also a very bad idea. “I don’t want to think about what she’d have to say to both of us if she knew.”

There was a beat of silence before Simon asked, “So, do you, um, have a preferred side of the bed?”

Jace turned to look at him, only a little disappointed to find Simon fully dressed in his pajamas. As usual when someone asked a question he didn’t want to think about, Jace flashed a smirk. “In a bed this small, I usually just take up the whole thing.”

“Well, unless you want me on top of you, you should pick a side,” Simon said, unimpressed. “Because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ll take the left,” Jace said quickly, trying and mostly failing to avoid thinking about exactly how much he did want Simon on top of him. “I’m just gonna hit the bathroom real quick.”

Which was how Jace found himself locked in the tiny guest bathroom, lip caught between his teeth as he frantically tugged at his cock. He hadn’t planned on jerking off, but he couldn’t get Simon’s words out of his head, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting into bed with Simon half-hard, which was really the only other option.

He could picture it far too easily. Simon pressing him into that ridiculously tiny bed, hands gentle but firm, mouth just a little bit desperate.

He came to the thought of rutting up against those ridiculous abs.

By the time Jace cleaned himself up and returned to his room, Simon was nestled under the covers on the right side of the bed. Seeing him like that made something in Jace’s chest clench, and he flipped the light off just so he wouldn’t have to look anymore.

“‘Night,” Simon said as Jace slid into bed, taking care to stay entirely on his side.

“Don’t even think about snoring,” Jace answered.

He lay in the dark for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city that didn’t quite drown out the soft breathing of the man beside him. He tried not to think about how easy and relaxed the night had been, how perfect it would have been if only half of it weren’t a lie.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Sunshine City: Three

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read/reblogged/commented on the last chapter. You are all lovely and deserve a Whiskey of your own. This chapter still revolves around the plot of the film, so if you have any questions just let me know! I hope this little story can make you smile at least for a moment. My asks and DMs are always open.

Pairing: (Eventual) Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 5.7k

Rating For This Chapter: T for guns, blood, injuries

Catch up on the Prologue, Chapters One, and Two here!

Y/N sat at the bar and ordered a cranberry juice.

Butterfly Guy was sitting with Eggsy, Whiskey, and a guy who insisted on being called Merlin in a booth near the window.

“Rough day, sugar?” Paula the bartender asked as she set down the cloudy glass filled with purple-red juice.

“Rough couple of days,” she muttered and handed over a handful of crumpled bills that Paula methodically straightened out before placing them in the till. Paula was basically an agent in her own right. She’d been part of the bar for nearly twenty years and since only Statesmen drank here and knew of its existence, they spoke freely about their work. She probably knew more classified intel than some junior agents.

“You sure I can’t get you anything stronger?” She asked, her bleach blonde hair swiping over her shoulders. “Something with a little more oomph?”

“Just the cranberry juice for now.” She smiled and sipped on the too-bitter drink and resisted puckering her lips at the taste. “But thank you.”

Paula nodded and cast a glance at the table where the agents sat. “You know, Whiskey keeps lookin’ over here.”

She ignored the twisting in her stomach and took a large gulp. “ ‘s just post-mission jitters.”

“Uh-huh,” Paula said with a roll of her eyes. “Sure. When a handsome man looks at me like that…” she drifted off with a raise of her eyebrows.

(But she wouldn’t deny that she noticed Whiskey looking at her a little more often. When they met up after she implanted the tracker in Clara, she noticed Whiskey kept turning away every so often, a hand tucked in his front pocket. It was a common gesture used by men to hide an erection, she knew that—she just didn’t believe he would have one at that moment. They were in the middle of a mission. There was no way he was hiding a boner. But the thought was fun.)

Thankfully, Agent Moonshine started hollering and she sighed into her drink and got up from her barstool and walked behind the bar.

Paula was watching the scene unfold like she hadn’t watched a million bar fights before and looked ready to piss herself. Sunny patted her on the shoulder and signaled for her to hide in the little cubby beneath the register.

The Butterfly Guy quickly made a fool of himself, trying to teach Moonshine and his buddies some manners and she leaned against the sticky bar to watch as Whiskey stood from his seat. It wasn’t the first time she would watch Whiskey kick Moonshine’s ass but it was always fun to witness.

And those tight jeans did wonders for his butt.

While she would never understand his affinity for his lasso or his whip, it was nice to watch him work (and to see Moonshine bleed a little).

As he finished, Moonshine and his hangers-on all unconscious or bleeding enough to keep them still, Whiskey adjusted his hat and let out a whistle. “I feel like a tornado in a trailer park.”

She snorted and finished her drink as Paula slowly came out from the cubby and gaped at the mess. “It looks like a tornado came through here, boss. I think you owe Paula another window.”

“And new glasses!” Paula said with a frown.

She patted Paula’s shoulder again with a promise that the window would be fixed within a handful of hours as the televisions switched from the football game and were overtaken by a wash of yellow and red with an obnoxious chime.

A woman draped in a horrendous yellow outfit with fiery red hair soon filled the screens. “Mr. President, my name is Poppy Adams. I believe the UN has no teeth. So I've selected you, as leader of the free world, to receive this communication. And I invite you to begin negotiations on the largest scale hostage situation in history. A few weeks ago, an engineered virus was released and contained in all varieties of my product: cannabis, cocaine, heroin, opium, ecstasy, and crystal meth.” Each line item popped up on the screen in a pretty font. Cap looked over to see Whiskey already looking at her, lips pulled into a frown. “Some of you are already infected. And this is what you can expect in the coming days. After a brief incubation period, victims present with stage one symptoms: a blue rash. Next, second stage symptoms appear: mania, as the virus enters the brain. Very distressing to the victim and those around them. Stage three: paralysis. Muscles enter a state of catastrophic seizure. And once the muscles of the thorax become affected, breathing becomes impossible.” She watched as one new victim after another was revealed on the screen until blood spurted out of the last man’s eyes and nose, dead for millions to witness. “This leads to a very nasty death within 12 hours. But I have good news to the millions already affected. It doesn't have to be this way. I have an antidote.” Poppy held up a clear vial filled with an amber liquid—and Elton John behind another glass wall.

“What have you done to me, you fucking bitch?” God bless Elton John.

Undeterred by Elton John’s outburst, Poppy continued, “100% effective and ready to ship out worldwide at a moment's notice. I will do this if the following conditions are met. First, you agree to end the war on drugs, once and for all. All classes of substance are legalized paving the way to a new marketplace in which sales are regulated and taxed just like alcohol. And second, my colleagues and I receive full legal immunity. Meet my terms. I look forward to helping you keep our beloved country great, boosting our ailing economy, and easing spending on law enforcement. Or continue this blinkered, outmoded, and, frankly, disastrous exercise in prohibition, and live with blood on your hands. Save lives. Legalize.”

The broadcast ended and the televisions screens quickly flipped back to the football game. Whiskey was at her side in a blink of an eye. His hand brushed down her back. “We gotta talk to Champ, Sunny.”

And that was how she found herself bundled in winter gear on an Italian mountainside. Clara had called Charlie, and thanks to the tracking device she had implanted at Glastonbury, they were able to pick up the conversation. Charlie told Clara (who was now covered in the blue rash) to meet him at the ski resort they’d visited last year so he could give her the antidote. The tracking device could pinpoint their exact location and everyone was betting that the Italian resort was one of the storehouses for the antidote.

But she was also wondering, once again, why she found Whiskey attractive. He was in a terrible blue and white snowsuit that had to have been made in the 1970s. And he still refused to take off his damned cowboy hat. She appreciated the dedication to his aesthetic but it still seemed…ridiculous.

And he’d been grating on her last nerve on the flight over.

Ginger had buzzed in and suggested that Cap be the one to retrieve the antidote because only Clara would recognize her as opposed to Charlie possibly recognizing Eggsy or Butterfly Man (who she was told to call either Galahad or Harry). Whiskey then laughed—loudly—and stated plainly that he would be planning the mission and Ginger should stick to her computers and gadgets. “It isn’t like ya have any experience in the field.”

She really thought about murdering her boss for the rest of the flight. Her plots to kill him only got more creative when he told her to stay at the safe-house when they landed.

She was tired. She was angry.

And that was probably why she finally snapped. “If you didn’t want me to come along, you could have just told Champ. God knows you don’t listen to anyone else.” She hefted her bag filled with her own weapons and ammo higher onto her shoulder and turned away from him, readying to hike up toward the house and stew in her lonesome until the three men returned—hopefully with the antidote in hand.

But his hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop before she could get very far. “That ain’t fair, Sunny.”

She pulled out of his grip with a poorly hidden snarl. “No. You’re not fair. To me. To Ginger. All because of some bullshit you think is right.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve been in this game a long time-”

“And I’ve been in it longer-”

“-and I can take care of myself. What you’re doing to Ginger is so fucking backwards I’m surprised you can see straight,” she hissed it out like a curse. “I’m tired, Whiskey. I’m so tired of watching her jump through hoops trying to get you to notice that she could outperform half the agents in the field and you want her stuck behind the desk until she dies. I’m tired of you thinking you know best in the field. Why do you even request me to go with you if you’re going to undermine me every step of the way?”

Whiskey’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Her shoulders slumped. Harry and Eggsy both looked like they were very interested in the calibrations of their earpieces and not listening to what just happened. God this whole situation was pathetic. They were trying to save the world and she was waffling between yearning and rage for her stupid boss. She trudged away in the snow toward the safe house and barely heard Whiskey say, “what are you lookin’ at, Butterfly Guy?”

But she continued on, up the mountain and found the small shack of a house and swept the perimeter before settling in. She comm’ed in only to say she reached the safe house. Eggsy responded cheerfully but she didn’t respond when Whiskey also chimed in with a, “good work, Sunny.”

Time ticked by.

There was a commotion on the other end of the comm line when Butterfly Guy wouldn’t respond—and then all she heard was Eggsy and Whiskey screaming. She rolled her eyes. They were so dramatic. But soon, the trio was making their way toward the safe-house and she didn’t bother to open the door when she heard them outside. They all hobbled in, mid-argument.

Eggsy pulled out a small vial and showed it to her with a smile she had to reciprocate. “You got it.”

“We did. A little dicey—Charlie recognized me.”

She glanced at Whiskey who frowned in return. It didn’t matter. Ginger had been right and now he knew it.

“Can I see it, kid?” Whiskey asked with his hand outstretched as he walked toward them. But then his dark eyes tracked to the window and widened. “Get down!” Whiskey all but tackled both Eggsy and her to the dusty ground of the house as bullets started to fly. Glass shattered. Wood splintered.

She watched, unable to do anything from her pinned position, as the small vial was all but knocked from Eggsy’s hand and shattered on the ground.

“You fucking dickhead!” Eggsy hollered as he scrambled out from under Whiskey to look over the spilled antidote, almost uncaring of the bullets whizzing by.

“Fuck you, I just saved your life!” Whiskey retorted.

“Yeah, and cost millions of people theirs!”

She had to slap at Whiskey’s thigh to get him to move off her and she rolled off into the corner when he did. The rain of bullets stopped for a moment and she looked out the window. “They’re reloading.”

Whiskey nodded. “All right, I'll fix their wagons. Cover me, boys!” And then he all but bolted out of the house, guns blazing.

With a roll of her eyes, ignoring how Whiskey had told the ‘boys’ to cover him, she followed suit and ran out into the snow, pulling her guns out from their holsters. The shootout was nothing she hadn’t seen before and, while she didn’t have all the flair most of the Statesmen agents had, she could mow down people just as efficiently. (The acrobatics the Statesmen and Kingsman agents seemed so fond of really just seemed…excessive.)

Whiskey went through the left flank so she went through the unlucky men on the right.

It was easy pickings, really. Despite the heavy artillery and uneven numbers, it was almost too simple of a gunfight. But the adrenaline rush was nice. It had been too long since she had felt her heart beat this fast. Bullets were flying by her head as she dove behind a tree and then twisted to shoot down the other man. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Whiskey pull out his electric lasso and then cut a man in half who came out with a knife.

“Fucking ridiculous,” she muttered as she stood, lowering her guns and quietly thankful that Whiskey wasn’t hurt.

There was a single gunshot and she froze. A familiar cold crept up her torso and one last man stepped out from the tree line with his gun raised right in her direction. The barrel smoked. But his eyes were wide like he couldn’t quite understand that he’d actually managed to shoot her. With a snarl, she pulled her guns up again and fired twice, painting the trees and snow behind him in a spattering of red.

“Sunny!” Whiskey yelled as he spotted her.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and felt the terrible, wet warmth soak her palm. She holstered her guns again and stepped out to look at him, turning ever so slightly to hide the blossoming red from him. “We’re good.”

“You should’ve stayed in the house.”

“You needed back up!” She said, marching toward the house despite feeling her legs shake. Pressing against the wound only made bile rise in her throat.

“The kid and Butterfly Guy-”

“It’s over, boss. Let’s just-”

Whiskey suddenly grabbed at her waist and all but threw her into the house and she nearly lost her footing. She barely had time to recognize the pain suddenly roaring through her system as the adrenaline started to fade.

“Troop carrier coming in. And I’m out of ammo—whaddya got?” He asked, pointedly looking at Eggsy and Harry.

But they were both looking at Whiskey’s hand.

He slowly raised it to his face and saw it covered in blood. His head snapped to the side to look at her. “Sunny?”

Her knees finally buckled and she hit the weathered wood. She shakily caught herself with her other hand, feeling blood slip between her fingers. She coughed and watched as blood splattered against the wood.

“They’ve got Gatling guns!”

Whiskey was yelling. Bullets whizzed by. And the beat of her heart started to drown out everything else.

“Harry, no!” She barely heard Eggsy shout.

And then, in her quickly-hazing vision, she watched Whiskey’s body crumple to the floor beside hers. She reached out a bloody hand toward him without thinking, pressing crimson-colored fingers against his face as if that would stop the bleeding.

“He broke the vial on purpose, Eggsy. If we made it out of here, he was gonna kill us both!”

The world went dark.

The sterile scent of HQ’s medical wing was a welcoming aroma as her eyes opened.

“There you are.” Ginger leaned over her with a soft smile. “How ya feeling?”

“Tired.”

“No pain?” She asked as she helped Cap sit up slowly.

“A bit tender—but I know what feeling shot in the chest feels like so I would prefer this.” She pulled at the bland, cotton-blend shirt she was dressed in and saw her stomach covered in a bit of gauze and tape. Despite Ginger telling her not to, she pulled at the coverings to reveal the mostly-healed bullet wound and then pushed back into the pillows. It looked like it had already been healing for weeks instead of a day or two. Statesmen truly knew how to patch someone up. But then a thought struck her. “Where’s Whiskey?”

And Ginger’s soft, answering smile calmed her suddenly clenching heart. “He’s in the next room over, Cap. He’ll wake up soon. Eggsy gave him the Alpha Gel and it worked like it was supposed to.”

She pushed out a long breath through her nose and nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

Ginger’s watch beeped. She looked at the small screen and sighed. “I will be back. Don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“I promise nothing.”

Ginger chuckled, having heard that answer many times before, and let herself out of the room.

She let herself stew for a moment (it was really about an hour). Her life had really gone off the rails since Vegas. It was one thing to secretly harbor amorous thoughts about your boss. It was another to scream at him, get shot, and then see him get shot after seeing him (possibly) thwart any efforts to get the antidote and save millions of people. And she had a chance to say something to Ginger. But she didn’t.

Hm.

She carefully slid off the bed and winced when a bolt of pain zig-zagged through her body as her feet touched the cold floor. Shuffling over to the door, she peered out into the hallway and then stepped out. Whiskey’s holding room was only a few footsteps away.

Should she go in? But then what would she say?

Should she just go back to her room and pretend she was unconscious the entire time and remembered exactly nothing from Italy? But what was she trying to forget anyway?

But, thankfully, Eggsy found her in the middle of the hall and broke her rambling thoughts. He pocketed his phone and looked a bit worried as he noticed her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Better than I should be after being shot. You?”

He started to nod but then shook his head. “My girlfriend…she, uh, she’s got the blue rash.” He rubbed at his forehead.

“You care about her. Probably more than you should, right?” That was easy to see. Eggsy was a good kid, probably a little too easy to read. “Especially in this line of work.”

“You get it—Kingsmen aren’t allowed to have attachments. And I…” he tried to grasp at the words he needed, “love her.”

“Statesmen doesn’t have that rule. Probably because we’re very bad at following any sort of guideline anyway.” She shrugged and regretted the movement as it pulled at her wound. “But that means you’ve got less than 12 hours. You got a plan?”

Eggsy quickly explained that they had been able to trace Poppy’s location to Cambodia and they were heading out there now. But his eyes quickly widened as he realized he had just revealed a plan to a potentially dangerous adversary.

“Relax, Eggsy. I’m not the one you shot in the head.” She waved him on. “Go. Save the world. Look out for landmines.”

“Landmines?” Eggsy parroted, face scrunching into a confused frown.

“If Poppy’s as crazy as I think she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has nonsense like that. Who knows? Maybe she has a fleet of man-eating robots, too.”

“What are you on about?”

She shook her head. “I’ve seen some stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

He smiled and started to walk away. “You should come to London when this is all over. I’ll get you a drink!”

She smiled a bit and watched him disappear around a corner before her eyes once again drifted toward Whiskey’s door. “…fuck.” Against her better judgement, she walked up and let the door glide open without a sound. The room was quiet. Whiskey was motionless on the bed, face still covered by the machine to help the Alpha Gel finish its work. His vitals were steady, displayed on large screens across the wall.

He would be fine.

She slipped gingerly into a chair near the bed and resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hand. He just looked so…vulnerable. It was so unlike him. An angry, terrible twisting pulled at her chest. “I’m not sorry I yelled at you, you know.” She wasn’t sure why she was talking to him but the words kept coming anyway. “You need to let Ginger out in the field. She’d be a better agent than me. I don’t know why you’re… I don’t understand you at all, actually. I wish I did, I think. I wish I could understand you and why you do things and say things. I wish I could understand why you make me feel so stupid.”

Maybe being this close to death—again—was making her sentimental. Or maybe the pain medication was making her crazy.

Probably the second option. Hopefully, anyway.

The door opened again and Ginger stepped in. “I knew I’d find you in here.”

“How’d you figure that?”

Ginger gave her a look but didn’t answer. “It is about time we wake him up. You remember how it’s like, right?”

She nodded. She had heard stories about how most agents needed a ‘reminder’ of a traumatic event to bring them back to the present and how their minds could be a bit foggy for a few days after, but she had never seen it in person. But she basically knew what to except--right?

With a flip of a few switches, the machine receded and Whiskey’s eyes opened. He was up and off the bed with a spring in his gait that had her laughing as he gave some terrible pick-up line to Ginger. But the laugh drew his attention and his body went rigid as his eyes landed on her. “Sunny.”

She felt tension she didn’t realize she was holding leech from her shoulders as he smiled at her. “Hey, boss.”

Ginger tucked something back in her pocket and her smile seemed to reach her ears. “I’ll leave you two…alone. But I’m just outside if you need anything.” She then scurried out and left her alone with Whiskey and her hammering heart.

“Sunshine.” The new nickname was all but crushing to her heart, caving in her chest.

She waved him back to the bed and told him to rest before she curled her fingers around his hand. It was warm and calloused and, as cliché as it sounded, seemed to fit hers perfectly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot in the head.”

She almost laughed and her other hand carefully pushed his still-impeccably styled hair away from the bandage covering a small bit of his temple. “Yeah. You look great for a dead man, though.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” But he said it with a smile and squeezed her hand. “Say it again.”

“You look great.” And her smile grew, heart a little lighter.

He huffed out a laugh but then a long silence stretched between them. She looked away from his dark eyes but didn’t pull her hand away from his, fearing he’d disappear if she did.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sunshine?” He squeezed at her hand until she looked at him again.

“I’m okay. They fixed me up just fine. A new scar for the collection.”

His smile slowly dropped and he placed his other hand over hers, too. “I saw you drop. You were bleedin’ out and I-”

“I saw you get shot, too, you know. Butterfly Guy has an interesting way of showing he doesn’t trust someone.” She shook the thought away. Harry’s brain was scrambled, too. “I’m just happy you’re okay. Your brain might feel a bit funny for a day or two, but I’ll be here.”

“Where are they now? The Brits?”

“They’re on their way to Cambodia. They think they’ve found Poppy’s base.”

Whiskey all but yanked his hands from hers and threw his legs over the side of the bed before standing on his long legs. She quickly stood too, chair clattering backward. “We’ve gotta go. Tell Ginger to get the Silver Pony on the runway.” He started toward the door before she grabbed at his arm.

“Boss, c’mon. You need to rest-”

“I need to make sure that bitch doesn’t get what she wants.”

She was scrambling then, hands pawing up his arm to grasp at his face. Her heart was in her throat as she looked at him. His dark eyes looked so cold. Unfocused. She knew the Alpha Gel could scramble someone’s brain as it physically repaired it, pushing them into old habits and thoughts and fears. She knew Whiskey wasn’t thinking right at the moment—no matter how soft he had been with her moments ago, this wasn’t her Whiskey. Her mouth went dry. Thoughts raced by as the pit she had felt growing in her stomach expanded to an abyss. She knew what he’d been through. The death of his wife at the hands of some coked-out druggies was an open secret. And she knew her own grief, dealt with it in her own way—not all of it healthy, she knew. But she had to try. She knew the look of a man who wanted vengeance no matter the cost—and, right now, the cost was millions of lives. “Do you know why I don’t drink?”

“We don’t have time for this,” he said as he pulled out of her grip.

“Drunk driver plowed into my dad’s car. I was at the local pool with some friends and Dad piled everyone in to pick me up so we could get ice cream after. They never made it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you think I hold it against everyone who likes to put a little something extra in their coffee? Likes to have a little liquid courage to talk to the cute guy across the bar?”

Whiskey’s face twisted and his eyes seemed to dilate before he scrunched them shut. A shaking hand pushed through his hair.

“I work at a distillery for a man named Whiskey.”

Another silence stretched between them. She would swear he could hear her heartbeat in the quiet of the room.

A careful hand reached out to touch his wrist, too afraid to do much else. “Stay,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

And his eyes finally opened.

Champ smiled and congratulated them on a job well done. It was a week since the entire Golden Circle situation had been handled. Tequila was well. Whiskey’s mind was clear. And their profits had never been higher.

Merlin, Harry, and Eggsy were standing at the end of the table and each held a glass of amber liquid as everyone raised a toast. Whiskey was sitting across from his Sunny, golden glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He probably should have been listening to what was Champ was saying but all he could see was how she licked her lips after taking a sip of her cranberry juice.

Statesmen, knowing an ally when they saw one, had purchased a distillery in Scotland. It was the perfect guise to help Kingsman rebuild and keep their money looking “clean.” Yes, he should have listened.

Because the Kid opened his mouth and said Kingsman needed more agents.

“I think Ginger would be a great Kingsman,” Sunny said with a smile.

Ginger, tucked into a corner a drink of her own, smiled in return. “I…”

“Agreed,” Whiskey heard himself saying. And he quickly realized that he meant it.

Ginger’s eyes went wide and she nearly sloshed the entirety of her drink across her shirt.

Champ laughed. “Alrighty then. Ginger Ale, well, I guess you’ll get a new code name, won’t ya?”

But the Kid’s smile widened. “And I was thinking Cap could come, too.” He turned to her and shrugged a shoulder. “Whaddya say, Cap? I’ll show you the real London.”

Whiskey looked at her, feeling like someone had shoved their fist down his throat. Don’t go. Don’t leave.

“I always wanted to be a knight of the round table.”

The men at the end of the table cheered again and Ginger walked over to knock their glasses together.

And while everyone continued to pat themselves on the back for completing the mission, all he could feel was cold.

The revelry eventually died down and Whiskey found himself the last one seated at the table. Everyone else filtered out to ready for the next mission—or the move to London. It was just him and Champ. The older man plopped down in the seat beside him and refilled his empty glass.

“London is only a few hours by plane from New York.”

He took a long pull from his glass.

“I’ve never known you to wait for something you wanted, Whiskey. But sure seemed to drag your ass on this one.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Champ?” He finally asked after another large gulp of alcohol.

But Champ just shook his head with a throaty chuckle. “You two are a mess.”

Royal weddings were…an event, she was finding.

After nearly losing Princess Tilde to the Golden Circle, Eggsy actually proposed. And with Harry now known as Arthur and presiding over Kingsman, the rules changed. Attachments were allowed. And because Tilde knew his fellow Kingsman were like Eggsy’s family, they were invited to the wedding. A handful of Statesmen, too. It had been a year since Poppy’s demise in Cambodia and the world was (mostly) at peace. Kingsman managed to salvage quite a bit from the wreckage of their former bases and Statesmen funded the rest of their necessary rebuilds. It was slow-going, and a handful of new agents were still finding their footing after graduating from the selection process.

“Please tell me Tequila is not wearing jeans,” she muttered.

Ginger, now known as Agent Percival, rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile as she spotted the jean-clad man amid the rest of the American crowd. “I could but that would be a lie.” She paused. “But Whiskey certainly dressed for the occasion.”

She leaned forward just the slightest bit to see Whiskey dressed in a fine tuxedo. “Is that one of ours?”

Ginger hummed. “He came in a few days ago for a fitting.”

She swallowed the saliva filling her mouth and turned back to watch Eggsy nervously fidget with his cufflinks at the end of the aisle. “Looks good.”

The ceremony finished after the vows and a bit of perfunctory reading and singing before the guests were all chauffeured over to the reception space at the royal palace. “You know, Merlin told me that you and Whiskey are quite fond of using emojis in your emails,” Ginger said as dinner was cleared away and dessert started to be served.

Her glass of water nearly slipped from her grip as embarrassment washed over her. “I was told those were private.”

“Nothing’s private in our line of work,” Ginger said with a pat to her hand. “But you haven’t really explained what is going on between you two.”

She rubbed at her temples. How could she possibly explain that she knew Whiskey, while his brain was still scrambled, wanted to let everyone infected with the Blue Rash die? How could she explain that she, despite all that, missed his smile and stupid mustache? Missed how he had terrible pick-up lines that always made her roll her eyes? Missed how she always seemed a little lighter whenever he would waltz into her office in New York?

Their constant contact devolved away from work and missions and into their private lives. He would ask after Bela and she would ask him to tell her about the view from his office window. It was now a strange sort of friendship that she treasured and protected despite how they hadn’t seen each other in person in over a year. She had taken the position at Kingsman, took the code name Agent Mordred, moved to London. It should have been a clean break. She could have kept their communications purely professional. But she didn’t. She just couldn’t truly let him go.

But on the outside, she shrugged as her hands dropped away from her face.

“It looks like I’ll be able to see for myself because he’s on his way over here.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Ginger’s smug tone and, sure enough, Whiskey was on his way over, walking through the dancing crowd and wandering guests, right toward their table.

“But oh no. Would you look at that, I need more champagne.” Ginger then scampered off and left her alone.

Whiskey easily took Ginger’s vacated seat and smiled at her. “Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hey, bos-Whiskey.”

He chuckled at her slip. His head tilted to the side as he looked at her, eyes trailing down her form and she resisted a shiver like a teenaged girl but was silently thankful for the designer dress that fit her like a glove in a soft blue silk. “You look good.”

“You too.” And he did. The tuxedo was impeccably cut and the darkest black. A pristine white shirt was held back with a matching cummerbund and a black bowtie was slightly crooked around his neck. She reached out and straightened it.

He reached up to keep her hand pressed against his chest with a small smile. “I miss you.” It was whispered like a secret.

“We talk every day.” But she didn’t pull her hand away.

“ ‘s not the same and you know it.” He squeezed her hand. “Dance with me?” Wordlessly, he led her out onto the dance floor and pulled her close.

His expensive cologne made her mind swim but she resisted the urge to rest her cheek against his shoulder despite every nerve in her body telling her to do so. The music was slow, soft, and romantic. The lighting was low and accentuated by flickering candles that danced across the golden walls of the royal ballroom. If she could let herself remember anything—it would be this moment. Held in the arms of the man she loved even if it was just for a tiny sliver of time.

“I never thanked you, you know.”

“For what?”

“Saving me. My head was a mess—even before Butterfly Guy put a bullet in it. It took me a while but I…” He shook his head. “You’ve given me a second chance.”

She cocked her head to the side with a smile. “To save the world?”

Whiskey’s smile was small and his cheeks reddened the slightest bit but his dark eyes never left her face. His grip on her hand and waist tightened the slightest bit. “A second chance at everything.”

She chuckled and ignored how her chest tightened. Reading into it would only make it hurt.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm @honestlystop @paryl @fioccodineveautunnale @lackofhonor

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle

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stefciastark · 3 years

Text

Stuck Under A Building ~ Webpril Day 4

A/N: Peter begins to dig his way out with the help of Tony, who hopes like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn't miscalculated anything. Otherwise, both Peter and Ned's lives may be at stake.

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

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The dust had already settled by the time Peter returned to consciousness. Not yet ready to open his eyes, he instead took mental inventory of each of his limbs, and he had to swallow back his panic when he couldn’t move his right leg without white hot pain licking its way up to his knee. In that moment, he made the decision to force his eyes open, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t be greeted with some sort of compound fracture or something else disgusting. Peter considered himself anything but squeamish, but he’d seen more than his fair share of gruesome injuries that he could very much do without at that very moment.

He found the offending object quickly; a large boulder the size of a washing machine – yet at least twice as heavy – sandwiched from halfway up his shin to his ankle. Mentally counting to three, he braced himself for the pain as he gave his leg another tug. He groaned through clenched teeth, clenching his eyes shut at the feeling of bone grinding on bone. Yep, definitely broken.

There was also a secondary problem he had just identified – the surrounding rocks had shifted in response to the movement of the one pinning him down. Peter watched with bated breath as a few stones the shape and size of watermelons tumbled down from the top of the pile and narrowly missed Ned, who still lay unconscious and prone on the ground beside him. His backpack lay just behind Ned, situated near what remained of the steel support pillar. If Peter remembered correctly, that meant that they were stuck in the middle-left portion of the cave. If he could get to the suit, he could get to help.

This would be the most high-stakes game of Pick-Up Sticks he’d ever played.

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Tony had received a notification about Peter’s suit, and as much as he’d later hate to admit it, he had passed it off as unimportant as it initially came through his systems. Tony was in the process of finalising the last of the data transfers to his new lab in the Avengers headquarters that had been relocated to upstate New York. Terabytes didn’t even begin to cover the quantity of files he had left to integrate into the new systems, but he had to start somewhere.

The hard drive had now begun to transfer the new blueprints for the latest Spiderman suit upgrades Tony had started prototyping. Peter was a keen kid; he was passionate and excitable, but frankly the sheer amount of voice messages he left was bordering on a violation of privacy. As Tony scrolled through the massive folder on Peter’s latest web-formulas he’d devised, the regular ‘Peter’ blip that appeared on his radar had suddenly faded into nothing, prompting advisory from F.R.I.D.A.Y.

According to his A.I, Peter’s whereabouts had last been defined as being circa upstate New Jersey, close to - if not within - the Sterling Hill Mining Museum. F.R.I.D.A.Y further informed Tony that that particular area sat right near the Ramapo fault line, where seismic activity had recently been detected.

Without hesitation, Tony set each foot in front of him deliberately, finally shrouding himself in his latest nanotech development: The Mark…whatever the hell. It was fast approaching the seventies and Tony had long since lost count.

The built-in stabilisers in the suit prevented Tony from feeling the G-Force he would otherwise be subject to as he catapulted towards northern New Jersey. He’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to inform him if any changes occurred regarding Peter’s whereabouts, however his radar remained silent apart from where the calculations told him Peter’s last known location was.

Completely removed now from the dense concrete jungle, Tony reached his final destination just outside of the Mining Museum. It may have been a long shot, but there was no way in hell Tony was leaving a single stone unturned.

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Peter had nearly managed to sling his pinkie finger around the inside of his mask that was sitting inconveniently just past the middle of his backpack. If Ned’s life hadn’t been at a perpetual state of risk from a catastrophic cave in, Peter would have simply yanked his leg free long ago and dealt with whatever consequence, but when it was a life other than his own, he found himself unable to act irresponsibly, instead finding himself performing ‘babysitter’ duties whilst pinned underneath a rock half the size of his apartment fridge.

Simultaneously extending his left arm once more as he gently shifted his leg just a fraction from beneath the boulder, he silently cheered as he managed to get a concrete hold on his mask. If anything, if he were lucky, he would be able to contact Mr Stark and work on getting them both out of here.

Pulling the mask over his face, he heard Karen’s calming voice as whatever systems were available initialised. He assumed he had a concussion at that point, as barely anything she said was properly registering for him, and simply went in one ear and out of the other.

“Communications are now online,” Karen hummed, and Peter sighed with relief. What he didn’t expect, however, was the almost instantaneous interception of Mr Stark’s voice through the comms.

“I leave you alone for five minutes...what the hell happened, kid?”

Peter grinned from within the mask. He knew he was safe. Tony Stark had come to get him, and everything would be alright. Ned would be left unscathed and before he knew it, it’d all be a distant memory. “We were on a field trip, and all the rocks were really cool, and then suddenly the ground started shaking, the cave collapsed, and now I’m stuck in here with Ned who’s unconscious, by the way, and - “

“Take a breather, kid. Just sit back for a minute, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s pulling up a map of the mine. We’ll get you out of there, try not to move too much, okay?” Tony’s eyes shifted over the heads-up display, taking in the various patterns of disarray with Peter and Ned laying in the epicentre. He narrowed his eyes as progressively more shapes on the close-proximity radar turned a bright shade of red. These boulders couldn’t be moved unless Peter wanted to put the lives of himself and Ned in immediate danger. It was time to change games and play Tetris, but this time lives were at stake.

“I need you to listen to me, Peter. There’s a rock to your right. Do you see it? I need you to wedge that just under where that boulder on your leg is sitting.”

Peter wasn’t about to question how Tony had gotten there in such a short amount of time, or how he knew about the offending boulder atop his ankle. Following Tony’s instructions, he shifted the stone next to him, and was able to use it like an ‘a la natural’ forklift to shift the stone from above him. He pulled his leg out as fast as he could in the fear that the rocks above him would crash down upon him - but this time more catastrophically. Ned still hadn’t come to, and Peter was becoming increasingly concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. “Okay Mr Stark, I’m out. But Ned, he’s still not waking up, I don’t know what - “

“One thing at a time. Now, I want you to -”

Peter didn’t register what was being said to him, instead taken over by the sheer sense of dread as he fully realised the proximity of the rocks sitting around him, trapping him on all sides. As if that weren’t a big enough concern, one millimetre of uncalculated movement could cause a cataclysmic cave in that - if Peter lived - he didn’t want on his conscience.

F.R.I.D.A.Y displayed the increased pace of Peter’s heart rate, and the decreased oxygen saturation in his blood. Shit. “Peter, I need you to listen to me. You can panic when this is over, believe me, but right now you need to get out. There’s a small rock to your left that’s shaped like the Kmart version of Cap’s shield. Nudge that out of the way for me.”

Crushing his fear down as far as he could, Peter rapidly identified the frisbee-shaped stone diagonally to his right. “B-but Mr Stark, that’s right underneath a massive pile of rocks…”

“Think of this like…” Tony rummaged in his brain for a moment, warring with the part of him that craved a blunt and harsh approach to the situation. He knew that would only cause Peter to stress more than he already was, so he opted for the approach that was as calm and collected as he could muster despite the situation. “What’s that game you showed me last week, kid? The one with the wooden blocks?”

“Jenga?”

“That’s the one. Sometimes stuff’s gotta fall down before you can stack it up again. Don’t worry, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s got your back.” Tony worried at his bottom lip, hoping like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hadn’t made some critical mistake in her calculations. He was purely relying on her to get Peter out of there. From where he was standing in the sole connecting tunnel that would lead to freedom, all he could see was rocks, rocks, and more goddamn rocks. As much as he would love to tear them from where they were positioned to get to the kid - his kid - he knew that any rash mistake on his part would end with more than one life haunting him until the day he died.

And so a game of Jenga they played, Peter pulling stones from one location and sliding them to become the new support structures for other smaller micro-towers. The space around him began to expand, and with it, Peter felt as if there were more breathable oxygen seeping in through the cracks between the stones, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining a gust of wind blustering in from where he guessed the tunnel’s entrance was. He had no idea how long they’d been reshuffling the contents of the cave, but Peter could almost stand completely upright and walk about twenty feet to his right and left.

“Alright, now this one’s gonna be a doozy. There’s a small pocket in front of that big boulder over there. Just give it a good kick.” From what Tony could see on his monitors, the moment that large rock moved, he would be free to blast the remaining stones and drag the kids out of there, no matter how many pieces they were in.

Peter knew this would be painful. It meant one of two things: he’d have to do the kicking with the leg his busted ankle was attached to, or he’d have to put all his weight on that limb while he did the deed with his good leg. Either way, he was prepared for it to suck. Choosing the latter and supporting himself partially on one of the larger boulders to his right, he brought his left knee to a right angle before pushing out with as much force as he could muster.

Tony first heard and then saw the shifting of the obstructions before him, the remaining fragments tumbling from the top until they sat in almost neat little piles below their larger counterparts.

Finally overwhelmed with exhaustion, pain, and the intensity of the last (at least) hour, Peter lowered himself onto the ground beneath him, only vaguely hearing metal scraping on stone, and the vibrations in the ground as Tony completed the last of the puzzle.

As he felt himself losing grip on awareness, he only just felt himself being gently lifted. At long last, feeling safe in the arms of the man he considered to be his father, he let himself drift off into the realms of unconsciousness.

A/N: Finally he's out! Peter and Tony will definitely be having a conversation about it on Day 6, so make sure you stick around for the conclusion to this little short story. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far xx

#webpril day 4 #webpril 2021 #irondad fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #whump writing #emotional h/c #h/c fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #writing prompt #writing challenge #my fanfic writing #ao3 #ffnet

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somekindoftuber · 5 years

Text

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

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sugar-petals · 4 years

Note

I know you've been getting tons of requests for more tarot readings, but OH DEAR LORD, PLEASE MAKE ANOTHER ONE! Also, I luv ur blog have a blessed day!!!

i had a sexy idea. what about i take you to date night with SuperM 👀

Taemin: THE CHARIOT

That card has major prince in extra shining armor energy. It’s a highly decorated guy riding a star-spangled wagon pulled by two sphinxes. Pretty extravagant is an understatement. It can’t get any more glamorous and it’s perfectly Taemin. Especially because THE CHARIOT traditionally symbolizes being famous. Rings a bell right there. Date night will go down in a fancy car or limousine, or you will spend a major part in some kind of expensive vehicle getting you where you planned to go. Safe to say the overdressed one will not be you. Yep, no matter how hard you try. And it can’t be any other way. Taemin will stun with glitter, high fashion, perfect hair, jewelry, makeup, lavish fabrics, a perfect body, anyways. So expensive, lord. You date the Prince of Korea. Taemin might get into trouble with fans or frentic paparazzi when he shows up like that man. So it only makes sense the venue is likely a bit out of town because the chariot card is set with a city backdrop that fades in the distance. It’s gonna be next to a body of water which is depicted behind the chariot. Really a more secluded and remote area. That also tells me it’s you he dresses up for after all, not the public. And, either way. That the main theme of the card is the vehicle, that’s where you’ll be cheek to cheek. Driver, roll up the partition, please.

Baekhyun: KING OF SWORDS

Powerful card. Either of you, I suspect it’s Baekhyun, takes responsibility to organize everything to the very last detail. It’s more head over heart energy, a hurricane, literal brain-storm even. He will surely think it through a thousand times. You gotta be the one who says easy easy, it’s about you and me and not some management job where the setting and timing and whatnot gives you all kinds of pressure. Now you understand that Baekhyun’s serious, performance-like mode is at full throttle because he’s nervous as fuck, cares about you, and doesn’t want to make any mistakes. But that contradicts what date night is all about. It’s not supposed to be stress or a task. Rather than making a good impression and being perfect, you remind him to let go a little more and return to his goofy personality. The lesson of the card might go as far as having both of you realize that racking your brains to hard is a sign to do something else. Staying at home is not a bad thing, you might even enjoy yourselves much more because everything is already taken care of. Sword energy cuts, especially if it’s the King wielding it, in this case the cutting might refer to canceling plans short notice to pursue what you’re really in the mood for as a couple. Which in turn will be rewarding and something healthy to do because you don’t force yourselves into an obligation.

Lucas: THE LOVERS

So… to state the absolute obvious right away. Even if you aren’t too familiar with Tarot at all, you know for a fact that this card is a darn good one to pull for a relationship question. Lo and behold: Lucas is your #1 address for date night. If I were unsure whom to pick, THE LOVERS are the most unequivocal sign like, pack the condoms, bring out the perfume, feel good, make out… wait, too fast. First things first: Oh my, he’s gonna be amazing as your kind of date consort. The chemistry! Explosive. Since the card depicts Garden Eden, that’s gonna be your overarching theme if you will. Cloud nine essentially. This evening will be blessed and sheer paradise. Adam on the card is surrounded by flames on a tree so you bet Lucas is gonna be on fire. There are also quite a few fruits depicted so I guess your food will be sweet and light rather than heavy. Now, as for the elephant in the room. Adam and Eve are more than stark naked on that card. Sex will be involved 10/10, out of all member’s he’s the one guaranteed to lay that pipe. The Lovers card also symbolizes a decision. It might be the day Lucas chooses to propose to you, even. Your relationship will be bound for the next level there. The angel on the card tells me you are safe and protected.

Mark: THE TOWER

Unexpected! That card is just way too dramatic for a light romantic reading. Seeeriously. Especially with Mark as a member who’s known for being super goofy and cute instead of serene and grumpy. What it’s about is plain ole doom and destruction, bringing down the old to build and restart the new. Natural catastrophe and firestorms, even. Yeah like imagine sitting together with Mark eating chipotle and some bloody earthquake hits, that’s the scenario and… actually, no. Worry not, I think the card wants us to take the image literally. The date will be in or close to some kind of tower. Or any elevated structure for that matter. Eiffel Tower much? Tower of Pisa? Sounds very romantic to me. That we have a huge thunderstorm raging on this card tells me you’ll be inside watching the huge grey clouds and thunder which is gonna be quite spectacular. Summer might be the time of the year that date goes down since it’s the season most prone to thunderstorms. Note also how dark the tower card is, that date night will go on past midnight and it will be steamy, too.

Ten: FOUR OF CUPS

Instantly when I drew that card, I knew it’s him on it. The four of cups shows a young black-haired man with closed eyes, sitting under a tree. Whether he’s dozing, sulking, meditating, or ignoring what goes on around him isn’t entirely clear. To me, and for Ten, I feel like it’s more of a worn-out day he’ll experience. Not the date itself, mind you, it’s the social circumstances. He’s tired from dance practices and all those schedules. All the fan interactions and SNS to be taken care of. Lots of stuff going on in the group. Truth be told, the card says date night isn’t the best way to go about it. He wants to be in a state of full energy when being with you. That works best if he has a separate day planned. And not date night as an addition to an existing schedule. Cramming it in seems like deprioritizing his partner so he won’t easily consider even if you yourself suggest date night. He has his reasons but might not always care to elaborate which is interesting given how outspoken Ten is otherwise. Maybe he’s not keen to burden you with his stress and his main strategy is to stay indifferent to keep things at bay, he really values relaxation time — nothing against you, just virtue of his business.

Taeyong: TWO OF PENTACLES

Interesting and simple, beautiful card! It shows a young man juggling two pentacles inside an infinity symbol, acting as a scale. That tells me two things: a) you’ll split the bill and b) this is a long-term relationship. Random I know, but makes for interesting context. The main theme from the card is the following though. It’s gonna be a date by the sea. There are water and ships pictured. You’ll see the anchorage and freight ships, even take a trip across a river alternatively. Who knows, the River Han is a popular dating spot in Seoul, I am sure someone so fond of all things nature will gravitate towards that. Looking at the waves is like a meditative experience. I also got an idea looking at that card once more, something more small scale: A pool date, super sexy. Like, imagine that. Taeyong is just an avid swimmer in pools, we’ve seen it. A bit of refreshment, some games with a ball, a bit of accidental exercise along the way without it feeling like a chore? Sounds about right. Plus you automatically get frisky in your swimwear. He’s not afraid to show his body. Whatever it is, a body of water will be involved for sure. If it’s by the sea an not inside water: Taeyong will wear either a red or even orange suit, we’re going fashion forward tonight babey, he can pull it off.

Kai: TEN OF WANDS

When I drew this I was like oh nu why :/ But we gotta roll with it. It’s not a seriously scary thing or something, just a more strenous, not 100% smooth romance card. The Ten of Wands is more of an indicator that there’s an obstacle or strain involved. It might be the kind of date where Kai is clumsy, someone doesn’t make it on time, it’s a hassle to find the parking lot, and so on and so forth. Consistent bad luck I do not associate with the TEN OF WANDS, however! It’s more of a what effort you put in is what dictates the result energy. The card shows a hunched guy carrying ten huge wooden sticks toward a town in the backdrop. And you can really see it’s heavy and he’s struggling because he has to carry so much. So, it might be a scenario where like, say Kai and you get stuck in traffic before you arrive. Which, you know, can be super annoying but can easily turned into a perk if you know what to do with the extra time. Or, Kai takes up so much responsibility with planning that he gets exhausted with the rest of his work in the mix. Though remember, effort always comes back tenfold (it’s the ten of wands after all) so it might be worth it and be a wholesome evening after some initial stress. Something unrelated I picked up from the imagery is that the date will be in a castle, because that is pictured in the backdrop!

#this has been in my drafts forever #anon #cub mail 🐅#tarot #superm #superm tarot reading #tarot reading #valentine's reading

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retrocelly · 5 years

Text

Savior (Jamie Oleksiak)

Warnings: smut and all that goes along with it

A/N: sorry for the delay, but I hope you all enjoy it!

How could you have been so stupid? Seriously, who goes to a downtown bar on a Friday night looking to just have a chill night out? Idiots, that’s who. You’d had a long week, to say the least. It wasn’t necessarily that there were a series of catastrophes to ruin your life, but it had just been a long damn week. So, come Friday night, you were ready to kick back and revel in the weekend.

You chose to go to a bar downtown that usually wasn’t overly crowded so that you could just enjoy a few drinks. However, when your Uber dropped you off at the curb outside, you nearly hopped back in the car and told him to drive you back home. There were people along the wall outside drinking and the place looked more like a nightclub than the lowkey bar you’d come to love. But you were determined to have a good night, so you took a deep breath and walked inside.

The music was blaring, the space filled to the brim with people dancing and talking. You made your way to the bar, nearly throwing an elbow or two just so you could actually have room to walk. It wasn’t even a full minute after you’d ordered your drink before a man came up to you. He stood too close to you, but with the crowds, you didn’t really blame him. However, you did blame him when he leaned into you with a smile. It wasn’t the “oh nice to meet you” type of smile, it was a sly grin that made your skin crawl. The man made some comment about the drink you ordered and you fake laughed it off. Maybe if you were just nice, he’d leave you alone.

He didn’t.

The man made explicit comments to you despite your clear disinterest in him, leaning in too closely and getting increasingly aggressive as you continued to move away from him. You were beginning to feel a little worried, having no friends that could help you if something were to go wrong. The man next to you was clearly not taking “no” for an answer and you needed to find an out. As subtly as you could, you looked around the bar for some way to get out of this situation. Your eyes landed on a tall man across the building, easily larger than anyone else in the space. Without thinking, you excused yourself from the creepy guy in front of you, rambling off some lame excuse about needing to use the restroom.

You made your way through the crowd as quickly as possible, keeping your eyes on the tall guy you were headed towards. You realized that he was in a group of other large, intimidating men. Even better, you thought, no man would be dumb enough to try and bother a girl surrounded by lumberjacks.

Finally, you were out of the crowd and within reach of your soon-to-be savior. A cloud of guilt washed over you as you realized that your problems would now be his - this poor guy just trying to enjoy a night out. However, your instinct to keep yourself safe overpowered your worries as you looked back to find the man at the bar still staring at you with darkened eyes.

“Excuse me,” you spoke over the music, your hand falling lightly on the arm of the tall man.

He turned quickly, his surprisingly soft blue eyes finding yours. He leaned down slightly to hear you better over the commotion surrounding you.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you, but there’s this guy at the bar that won’t leave me alone and you’re the most intimidating guy in here. Would it be okay if I just hung around you until the guy leaves or something?”

This guy didn’t miss a beat. The hand that wasn’t holding his drink came down gently to rest on your arm as he nodded. His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the bar, causing you to get on your toes and direct his line of sight to the man that was bothering you. You watched as his face set in anger, tilting slightly in a way you didn’t even know could be intimidating - although somehow it was. When you turned to see what had caused his expression, you were met with the sly smile of the man at the bar. The sight alone irked you, causing you to tug unintentionally at the sleeve of the man you were now essentially clinging to.

“Yeah,” he spoke, “just stick with me for a bit. He seems like a creep. I’m Jamie by the way.”

“Thanks, I’m Y/N.” You gave Jamie a smile as he led you toward a booth near some of his group. “So,” you started, gesturing to the other large men that Jamie knew, “are they friends from the gym or something?”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head a bit. You couldn’t help but smile in return, your earlier discomfort fading as you sat with Jamie.

“No, they’re from work.” He corrected, a grin still sitting on his face. You raised your eyebrows at him before you responded.

“Oh, yeah? So let me guess.”

Jamie cocked his head at you slightly, a challenge for you to continue.

“Personal trainers?” A shake of his head.

“Abercrombie models?” A laugh and another shake.

“Bouncers at a club or something?” At that, he gave you an expression that mimicked that of a hurt child.

“Okay, okay, jeez. Uhm,” you looked up pensively as Jamie took a sip of his beer, “athletes?”

He took another silent sip of his beer, causing you to lean forward in the booth.

“So you guys are athletes? What sport?” Jamie said nothing in response, a coy smile crossing his features.

You grabbed his forearm, giving it a firm shake as you nudged him.

“C’mon, Jamie, please tell me? I’m a terrible guesser.”

Jamie swished his drink in his mouth slightly, exaggerating his decision-making before finally responding to you.

“We’re hockey players for the Dallas Stars.”

“If all hockey players look like you guys, I should go to more games.”

You weren't sure why you're being so forward with him, as it wasn't normally something you did, but something about Jamie just made you feel comfortable enough to be flirtier than usual. You fell into easy conversation with him despite the noise around you. The alcohol was going to your head and he was saying all the right things; if this night continued like this, you'd be in his bed by midnight.

However, midway through telling you about one of his embarrassing on-ice moments, Jamie stopped talking. He directed his gaze above you, his expression hardening. Before you could ask him what the problem was or even turn to see what he was looking at, a voice spoke from behind you.

“And I thought we were having fun. You know, it’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation.”

The voice alone made you stiffen in the booth and you didn't even need to look at him in order to picture the unsettling smirk the man from the bar.

“She wasn’t having fun,” Jamie spoke, his jaw set with teeth clenched, “that's why she came to me. You’re obviously creeping everybody out, and she made it clear that she doesn't want to talk to you.”

You could feel the man step closer to you, but you couldn't seem to look at him. He placed his hand on the top of the booth right behind your head with more force than was necessary, causing you to finally turn your head.

The man's eyes were bloodshot from the alcohol he’d been drinking as he looked down at you. A blank smile crossed his features and you thought you might vomit then and there. The man leaned down so he was eye level with you, his hand coming off of the booth and onto your shoulder. You flinched away at the action and before you could speak, Jamie was on his feet.

“Okay,” he snapped, “take your hand off of her. Now.”

The man stood up straight, attempting to seem intimidating, but he was still nearly a foot shorter than Jamie, and he was swaying in place from his inebriation. Jamie leveled him with a stare - he didn't even need to say anything further as he turned to you, squatting so he could talk to you.

“You alright?” You nodded at him, grabbing onto his bicep lightly.

“Jamie,” you spoke, his eyes boring into yours, “take me home.”

Jamie seemed hesitant at first, his gaze shifting as he murmured “are you sure?” In a flurry of confidence and appreciation for the kind man kneeling in front of you, you leaned forward to press your lips to his. The action seemed to quiet any more questions Jamie might’ve had as his large hands found your waist.

His lips were softer than you’d expected as they moved against your own. Nothing went far and you couldn't even really classify the kiss as making out. That was mainly due to the fact that Jamie had pulled away to order an Uber. He led you through the crowds with a hand protectively on the small your back until you reached the sidewalk, the man from inside long forgotten. Luckily, the car was pulling up to the curb within seconds due to the busy night.

Jamie had his hands on you again as soon as you were in the backseat. You were the one to lean up and kiss along his jawline, which led to a heated make-out session until you heard the driver cough that you'd gotten to Jamie’s house. You pulled away, muttering an apology as Jamie led you into his home.

You could tell that you were flushed, cheeks especially rosy from the awkward interaction with the Uber driver. However, Jamie proved himself again as he dulled your discomfort with words like “you’re so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

You were up against the front door with Jamie’s lips on you. He rolled his hips against yours, the friction causing a wave of heat to course through you, resulting in you moaning onto Jamie’s lips. He smiled, tilting his head to suck hickeys down your neck and he repeated the motion of his hips. This time, you whimpered, Jamie's name falling from your lips as you pleaded for him to fuck you.

“Patience, pretty girl,” he spoke, his voice slightly deeper, “I’m not gonna have you up against my front door. We gotta get to the bed at least.”

Wordlessly, you draped your arms around Jamie’s neck. He understood what you meant, grabbing the backs of your thighs before lifting you up. Your legs went around his waist almost instinctively as he started to walk. Now it was your turn to leave tiny bite marks and teasing licks along his neck. You reveled in Jamie’s groan, your hands tangling into his short hair.

You had been so focused on what you were doing that you didn't notice Jamie enter his bedroom. He dropped you onto his bed without warning which made you let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. Jamie chuckled at the sound before standing up and removing his shirt.

He gave you no time to admire him as he was quickly leaning down to kiss you again. You felt his tongue swipe along your bottom lip and you moaned shamelessly as the kiss heated up.

“Jamie,” you breathed, “take your pants off.”

He smiled at you which you returned happily, eyes lingering on the fresh pink tinge of his lips.

“Good idea, but you’re still fully clothed, so you should fix that.”

You laughed in response as the two of you separated in order to strip. You'd hardly gotten your panties off before Jamie was kissing you again. His hands immediately cupped your ass, lifting you up the bed so you were resting against his pillows. Your hands were on either side of his face as you moved your lips on his.

Once you were settled in place, Jamie moved down slightly. He began licking around your nipple, his tongue making fast circles. Jamie then brought one hand down your torso, not wasting any time in finding your clit.

“Fuck, Jamie,” you moaned.

He hummed in response, the vibration against your hardened nipple sending a shock wave through your body. As much as you enjoyed your current position, you were eager to get Jamie inside of you.

“Jamie, baby, please fuck me.”

He lifted off of you quickly, staring at you with blown-out pupils. Before he could respond, you were running a hand down his torso. You wrapped your fingers around his base, pumping him slowly a few times. You could feel that he was larger than average, which wasn't surprising based on everything else about him.

Jamie’s mouth fell open at your action, but he reached down to still the movement of your hand. You brought your hand back up to grip his bicep, your legs widening in anticipation. Your eyes stayed locked on Jamie’s as he pushed into you. The size of him caused a stretch that made you lean your head back, a loud whine filling the space.

Jamie nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck as he began to thrust into you. He kept his pace slow, but his hips hit heavily into yours and you could feel pressure building quickly. He licked and moaned against your skin, one large hand cupping your breast and rolling your nipple gently beneath his finger.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me,” he growled, “you're so fucking tight.”

You could only whimper in return, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. You tugged on his hair after a particularly hard thrust.

“You like that, Y/N? You like when I fuck you nice and hard, huh, pretty girl?”

He lifted his head to watch you, moving his hand from your breast to hold your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“God yes, Jamie, I love it, feels so good.” He gave you a half smile as you brought your hands down to claw at his back. “Faster, Jamie, please.”

Jamie released your jaw, his hand pressing against the headboard behind you as he sped up. Your words were lost as Jamie began to rail into you. Both your moans and his filled the room along with the vulgar sound of skin slapping.

It wasn't much longer before you got close, so you started to rub your clit in order to push yourself over the edge. Jamie’s pace didn't slow or falter as he dropped his gaze to where your bodies met, letting out a loud groan as he watched your fingers move.

“Fuck, Y/N, that’s so hot. Are you gonna cum for me, baby?”

His words caused the knot in your stomach to come undone as he thrusted into you. You let out a string of curses and whimpers as you clenched around Jamie’s cock. He grunted and groaned as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming shallow as he reached his own peak. He stilled and spilled into you in hot spurts, his eyes shutting as he dropped his forehead to rest against yours. You stayed like that for a moment, listening to each others’ heavy breathing.

You whined when he pulled out of you, still sensitive from your orgasm and the sudden emptiness. Jamie watched in awe as his cum dripped out of you. You gave him a tired smile when he met your eyes once more, pulling him by the back of his neck to kiss you. You hummed as you pulled apart, carding your fingers through Jamie’s hair.

“Thank you for tonight, Jamie. Who knows where I’d be without you.” Your voice was nearly a whisper due to your closeness.

He placed a quick kiss to your cheek, whispering back a “you're welcome.” After another minute of sitting like that and kissing each other lightly every few seconds, you started to run a hand up and down Jamie’s side. You deepened the kisses as you moved your hand back down to Jamie’s length, which hardened under your touch.

“I think I need a shower,” you smirked, slipping out from under Jamie’s body, “mind showing me where that is?”

You shot Jamie a wink and he groaned through a wide smile. Although, he immediately got out of bed to led you to the shower.

“I think you’re gonna kill me, woman.”

#jamie oleksiak #jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak smut #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #dallas stars imagine

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rogueariadne · 4 years

Text

To Have A Villain’s Quirk

SEVEN: NOT THAT CLOSE

Over the rest of February and all of March, their training didn't slow down, but with school not in the way too much, Kaida and Izuku found more time to hang out. It was usually them just walking around town, catching hero versus villain fights, or even going to the local mall, or shopping districts. They even hung out at each others houses once; Kaori loves him. But even after all that time spent together, they both still couldn't bring themselves to tell the other the truths behind their quirks. For all Kaida knew, Izuku was just a really late bloomer. And all that Midoriya knew was that Kaida's eyes changed and she gained tails when her quirk was activated. When April finally rolled around, Kaida couldn't keep her heart from feeling like it was going to burst from her chest. She looked at her new uniform, turning and twisted in the mirror. It felt strange still. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, fiddling with it before pulling it into a half-up-half-down-do. Satisfied, she nodded, nearly jumping out of her skin when her other yelled up to her.

"Kaida, let's go! You don't want to keep Midoriya waiting, do you?" She rolled her eyes, stuffing her things into her bag, swiping up her shoes as she nearly tumbled down the stairs.

"I'm coming! I still gotta grab my lun-" She was cut off by Kaori shoving a small lunchbox in her hands, pushing her to the door where Izuku was waiting. He just looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Already packed it, now go." Kaida nodded as she quickly slipped on her shoes, giving her mother a quick hug. "And Midoriya, please make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble."

"Ah, of course, ma'am!"

"Don't worry, mom, we look out for each other." With quick waves, they took off, weaving through the civilians on the sidewalk. They didn't have to take the train anymore so the quickest commute was for them to walk. Or run, in this case. They were a little behind. Not too long, they came upon the huge building that was UA High School. Continuing to run along the grounds, they sprinted through the building to find their class room, 1-A. From what they heard, they allowed one extra student this year, so one of the classes had an extra student. And they heard that it was their class.

"Come on! Where is it?" She groaned, skidding to a stop after Midoriya quickly pointed it out. They stared up at the gigantic door, blinking in awe. "This thing is huge..."

"Think there's giants here?" The boy asked before gulping. "Okay.. The most promising students in the country are waiting behind this door." She watched his little freak out before laughing a little bit. She knew what he was thinking of.

"Hey, don't worry, maybe they're in a different class!" She grinned, watching him nod.

"Yeah! Maybe everyone here is nice!" He carefully opened the door, only for them to be met with the same boy from the auditorium lecturing a certain human bomb. They stood in the door way, watching the scene, Kaida blinking as she looked around the class for an empty seat. There was one off to the side while the rest of them seemed to be in a better order. Looks like it was an uneven class after all. She decided she'd take one for the team and take the extra, leaving the green haired boy at the door to take the seat against the wall but closest to the front. She ignored their back and forth as she set her bag down beside her, sitting. She was glad that everyone was too busy watching the two fight for them to notice her walk in, only for them all to notice Midoriya at once. She was sure the poor boy was going into shock. She watched them with a small smile on her face, glancing to the side to see Bakugo catch her.

"Of course, you'd be here, too. You'll follow that idiot anywhere." He growled at her. She sighed, giving a defeated smile.

"Good to see you, too, Katsu-"

"What have I said about calling me that?!"

"Hey! I remember you!" A different voice called out, cutting off their conversation. A different blond jumped up from his seat with that same big grin on his face. "You're that girl that took down all those robots like it was nothin'! Kai...uh, Kaida, right?"

"Hah.. uh, yeah.. That was me.." She said weakly, starting to sick into her chair with a pink face. Now, everyone else's eyes were on her. His dumb loud mouth. The class quieted down as they all heard a new voice.

"If you're just here to make friends then you can pack up your stuff now." All eyes were on the yellow bag of a person outside the door, just lying there, but startling the three by him pretty badly. "Welcome to UA's hero course."

Kaida stared at the man as he stood up and stepped out of the sleeping bag, confusing the hell out of her, but also feeling pretty grateful for the attention to be gone again. "It took eight seconds before you all shut up. That's not gonna work. Time is precious. Rational students would understand that." He sounded like a dick, but also looked super tired. She didn't blame him for not having patience, but maybe he shouldn't be teaching kids. "Hello, I'm Shouta Aizawa. Your Teacher." Everyone gasped at that, myself included. He just looked... homeless? Not cut out for teaching.. or superheroing?

"Right, let's get to it. Put these on and head outside." He handed out the P.E. uniforms, Kaida feeling a little disgusted but nevertheless, it had to be done.

"What? A Quirk assessment test?" If she was right, that meant they were going to all have to use their quirks to the full extent. She was glad she had coffee this morning before she left, she might have to get some after this too.. She really needed to be careful using it.. She had extremely good control over her quirk but.. She felt like she looked like a monster. The black and red eyes, the scaled tails. Come on, they were called demon tails for a reason. Not to mention, she ate human flesh. Before she could get too deep into her thoughts, Uraraka chimed in about orientation, which Aizawa immediately shot down. Well, he was right. She didn't care much about orientation anyways, they were here to become heroes, after all.

"Here at UA, we're not tethered to traditions. That means I get to run my class however I see fit." The look he gave the glace sent shivers down a few of their spines, including Kaida. Just what was he going to do? "You've been taking standardized tests most of your lives. But you never got to use your Quirks in physical exams before." He was right, it's how she's kept her quirk hidden for so long.. "The country's still trying to pretend we're all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel. It's not rational. One day, the Ministry of Education will learn." This man was harsh. But they were high schoolers now, training to be heroes. They needed to learn how the real world worked.

"Bakugo, you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam." Everyone's attention turned to the boy in question. Of course it was him. "What was your farthest distance throw with a softball when you were in Junior High?"

"Sixty-seven meters, I think." That sounded about right. She remembered some of their classes together. He could still throw pretty far without using his quirk.

"Right, try doing it with your Quirk." Bakugo nodded and stepped up, taking the softball from the teacher. "Anything goes, just stay in the circle. Go on. You're wasting our time." She had to hold back a snicker but crossed her arms as she peaked her head around everyone. She chose to keep her spot more towards the back. It was the most she could do to keep from being picked to go first with things. But it slowly became more clear that she would have to participate in every single one of the tests. In front of everyone.

"Alright, man, you asked for it." Bakugo stretched, sounding cocky as he positioned himself. Her eyes widened as he threw the ball as hard as he could, his quirk causing a rocket like scene. And, did he scream 'die!'? Honestly, scary.

"All of you need to know your maximum capabilities. It's the most rational way of figuring out your potential as a pro hero." He held up the device in his hand, showing the distance of Bakugo's throw. Kaida's eyes widened. There's no way she'd be able to reach that far. She could use one of her tails, maybe.. They had more strength than her arms did. She heard Kaminari speak up beside her, obviously very intimidated.

"Whoa, seven hundred and five meters, are you kidding me?!" He leaned back a little to look at the maroonette. "I don't think most of us here would be able to get that far." Kaida shook her head in agreement, eyes wide as everyone started to at least get a little excited. She wasn't looking forward to it.

"So, this looks fun, huh?" The class quieted down as Aizawa spoke. "You have three years here to become a hero. You think it's all gonna be games and play time? Idiots." Kaida flinched, standing up straighter. "Today you'll compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential. Whoever comes in last has none, and will be expelled immediately."

"Huh?!" Even Kaida joined in, shocked as she took a step forward. He couldn't do that? Could he? They all rightful got in, he couldn't just expel them! She couldn't help but look at her friend near the front. Midoriya was going to be singled out by everyone. She knew how much trouble he had with his quirk, she just hoped he'd be okay.

"Like I said, I get to decide how this class runs. Understand? If that's a problem, you can head home right now." Kaida clenched her teeth. No way! She made it this far, she wasn't going to let this knock her from the game. It was her time to shine.

"You can't send one of us home! I mean, we just got here!" Uraraka called out, upset about what was said. "Even if it wasn't the first day, that isn't fair!"

"Oh, and you think natural disasters are? Or power-hungry villains? Hm? Or catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities? No, the world is full of unfairness. It's a hero's job to try to combat that unfairness. If you wanna be a pro, you're gonna have to push yourself to the brink. For the next three years, UA will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So, go beyond. Plus Ultra-style." He beckoned everyone, and Kaida felt her power flowing through her at his next words. "Show me it's no mistake that you're here."

He was right. She had to show him, to go beyond, go further than she had before. She needed to be able to push her fears aside. She was going to push her fears aside. "Now then. We're just wasting time by talking. Let the games begin."

Test 1: 50-meter dash

Thanks to Kaida's natural speed, she reached: 4.52 seconds.

Test 2: Grip Strength

Using her rinkaku, away from everyone, she reached: 254.0kg.

Test 3: Standing Long Jump

Cleared sandbox.

Test 4: Repeated Side Steps

Didn't trip once. Of course, the little grape boy had an advantage.

Test 5: Ball Throw

Uraraka went first, throwing it all the way into the atmosphere, so Aizawa had to get a different ball. She did release it but they weren't sure where it landed. Next, was Kaida.

Kaida didn't look forward to this one, since she was standing in front of everyone. She held the softball in her hands, closing her eyes. Did she really want to do this? Yes, she needed to. So, ignoring her trembling body, she released the one tail, tossing the softball up and catching it with the appendage. She took a small step back, ready to brace herself for the force that she was going to unleash. She let it lash out, throwing the ball a good distance. The tail dissolved as she watched it hit the ground.

"Five hundred and sixteen point seven meters. Good." She nodded and walked away, being greeted by Kaminari and Midoriya.

"Wow, that was amazing! I don't think I've really seen you use your quirk like that, Kai!" Izuku grinned at the girl while Denki slung his arm around her.

"Really? You should've seen her during the exams. She was super fast, and strong!"

"I would've loved to see you in action-"

"Midoriya, it's your turn, come on." Midoriya swung his head around to look at their teacher, nodding quickly and running to the circle after taking the ball from Aizawa. He glanced at Kaida, who gave him a thumbs up. She watched him nod and turn away, her feeling like a proud big sister. Of course, there was still that unnatural weight on her shoulder. So, while Midoriya was figuring out what he was going to do, Kaida picked the boys hand off of her shoulder and dropped it back by his side, raising a brow at the blond.

"What? I thought we were close?" Denki chuckled, raising his brows back as he rested a hand on his hip. He tilted his head closer to hers and she quickly, but gently, shoved him a few feet away.

"Not that close." She could hear him pouting as she turned her attention back to Aizawa basically being an asshole to the poor boy up at the plate. Calling her best friend a liability and calling him out.

"Sorry Midoriya. With your power, there's no way you can become a hero." Kaida rose her hands to her mouth. That was uncalled for.. He shouldn't have brought him down like that, he could've been a little easier about it. Aizawa didn't know what Midoriya had to go through to get here. "I've returned your impractical Quirk. Take your final throw. Hurry and get it over with."

Kaida watched her best friend look so beaten down, her taking a small step forward. She wanted to comfort him, she wanted to tell Aizawa off, she was angry. And Bakugo wasn't helping. She could see the boys mouth moving, he was talking to himself. Probably trying to figure out the best course of action. She believed in him, she was just worried he was going to hurt himself. She could see the look on his face. He was going to do something. So, when he finally threw the ball, she realized what he was doing, a big smile coming to her face. He broke his finger, but it was enough to throw the ball. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, her grin never going away as he turned to look at their teacher.

"Mr. Aizawa. You see? I'm still standing." He had the same grin on his face. The one he wore when he proved someone wrong, when he was doing his best.

"Good job, Izu!" Kaida shouted, pumping her fist in the air. He had come such a long way from when they both started. He looked at the girl, smirking with tears in his eyes.

#THAVQ #To Have A Villain's Quirk #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanstory #fanstory #Kaida Hiyama #Hiyama Kaida #roguearaidne

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