𝑽𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 | 𝑲. 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒎𝒊

♕Ch. 5 Mutual Attraction♕

A/N:

I just wanna say like 3 things.

1. I'm sorry for being late. I'm not gonna lie, I'm horrible with schedules; always have been, always will be. BUT I SWEAR I'M TRYING TO FIX IT. I WILL GET IT WORKED OUT SO YALL GET AT LEAST 1 CHAPTER EVERY WEEK (even if I can't tell y'all what day it'll be cuz I'm working things out with my family right now.)

3. As y'all may have noticed, my writing style has changed a little here. I have better crafted paragraphs (at least in my own opinion) because I kinda just learned how to actually write on this app. I usually write my stories on Google Docs but now I figured out how to write here. So from here on, my chapters will look like this one. SORRY BOUT THAT THO.

4. Y'ALL I GOT A BEAUTIFUL BLACK QUEEN WHO'S WRITING HER OWN FANFIC ON HERE TOO (It's not BNHA/MHA but I love the story so far anyway) so give it up for my girl callme_chey!! GO READ HER STORY Y'ALL!!

----------------------------------------------------

Trigger

Sexual tension (A small bit of smut next chapter but not full on fuckin sorry)

Slight PTSD Episode (Nothing too serious; mainly just a flashback/nightmare)

A lil bit of fluff

---------------------------------------------------

Your Pov:

Hawks gently ushered you towards the living room, caring to not move you too quickly as you'd taken in the ironic décor before you. Once you'd finally conformed to Hawks' intentions, in the form of gentle nudges that is, you found yourself relaxing on the most comfortable couch you'd ever felt in your life. That was no easy feat, given your father's status and monetary station. You'd laid your head back, falling into a pit of nothing but dark, warm comfort as your eyes eased shut. It was an odd thing, feeling this relaxed in the house of who's normally your enemy. Usually, you're more distrustful than this; paranoia being one of your three best friends, along with depression and loneliness. But you'd never admit out loud to suffering these inflictions. Too much went wrong whenever you trusted anyone enough to expose your problems in hopes of getting help. Usually, it ended up with you being abused, bullied, or abandoned. All too quickly, you learned to keep your circle small and your trust smaller.

This idea brought you down into darker thoughts. You could see the very vivid scene of your parents' --your birth parents that is-- untimely deaths. You were watching it all play out live and in color from behind your eye lids. The flavor of ice cream they'd bought you still fresh on your taste buds as if you'd eaten a whole bowl a minute ago. It used to be your favorite, but now the taste made you madly nauseous with survivor's guilt. You could almost feel the warmth draining from their hands, which you'd clutched so tightly as they worked their fading strength to keep your eyes on theirs instead of the gaping fatal wounds across their bodies. Your face burned with dry tears as unspoken words died on your tongue. Just like how it'd happen in your nightmares as a child. Your body lightly quaked as an unfamiliar warmth settled on your shoulder. You couldn't tell if the ground was shaking, or if you were from the trauma. Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice faded in.

"..../n.." Confusion riddled you as the voice got louder.
"...Y/n.....Y/N!" With a gasp, you sprang forward, snatching your butterfly knife from your waistband and bringing it out in front of you. Shock flooded Hawks' features as a feather held back the point of your multi-colored weapon, which was promptly right up against his neck. Or at least, it would be if the feather wasn't wedged between the serrated blade and his delicate flesh. Your mind ran in circles, trying to dig through the fog of exhaustion and fighting off the few remaining effects of a pretty vivid night terror, while trying to remember the recent past of this very exhausting night.