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writingsbychlo · 3 years

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smoke and fire (10)

word count; 16,174

summary; a suspicious call has disastrous consequences.

notes; it’s time. the death, and you aren’t ready for it. grab your tissues.

warnings; major character death, panic attacks, breakdowns, arson, gore, blood triggers, explosions, significant descriptions of injury, vomiting.

“You sure the call was here?”

You twisted to look at Minho, and he scowled at you for the insinuation. “I followed the directions!”

“Well, I don’t see a fire.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Captain Obvious!” He scoffed, and a few chuckles ran out over the group as you beamed at him. “How come nobody ever gets at Fry for his driving?”

“Because he knows how to drive.” You snipped back, and an arm slung over your shoulders, a new medkit pressed into your arms by your partner, and you scowled down at the bag.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with it, per se.

In fact, it was a pretty nice bag, all things considered. A nice shade of navy blue to match the smart uniforms the firefighters wore on formal occasions, with padded straps to ease the stress on your shoulders and no loose threads or faded patches. It was brand new, and it was even personalised with a nice stitching of white numbers to form ‘21 to show off the house you were proudly a part of, but it felt wrong.

It just wasn’t your lucky charm.

“Oh, stop pouting over the bag, will ya’?” Newt sighed, and you only huffed, swinging it up onto your shoulder, and tucking your hand into the fleeced pocket of the coat you’d bought. Since deciding you wanted to remain at this house indefinitely, you had treated yourself to a further wardrobe of firehouse ‘21 kit. Two more embroidered shirts, your new bag, this warm fleece jacket and even one of the firemen’s tees, the largest size you could get for comfort in wearing at home. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not my bag!”

“Yeah, well, your bag is probably halfway to Australia or being picked apart by crabs, by now.” Your bottom lip stuck out a little at the idea, despite how entertaining the mental image of crabs playing doctor was. It made your lips flicker up in a brief smile, at least.

The rest of the firefighters were still standing around, staring up at the building with confusion, and you couldn't deny that you were in much the same state. There had been an emergency call, bringing you all out to the industrial estate on the edge of the city where you found yourselves now, and yet there was no emergency to be seen. Something about it felt wrong, something wasn’t right, you had a slightly nauseous feeling creeping in your gut but you didn’t know what was causing it, as nothing dangerous was looming over you all.

“The siren definitely said ‘emergency’, right?”

“Yep.” Thomas hummed, coming to stand beside his best friend, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat against the cool weather too, and his eyes found your own, lips forming a smile to greet you with.

“You know, maybe it’s like the call with Aaron?” A few of the other’s turned to face you at your suggestion, and you played with a pebble under the toe of your shoes. “This seems like the dumb place kids play at to rebel. Abandoned factories are great places for no good. Maybe there’s someone inside?”

Silence hung over it all for a second, and Gally was the first to break it, a groan falling from his lips. “I bet it’s a prank call.”

“We’re required to check it out anyway.” Brenda was ready to go, she’d been full of energy since the very beginning of the day, and you had a feeling that it had something to do with the suspiciously close arrival times between her and Minho. If you had counted right, it had been exactly five minutes apart, and the thought of Brenda telling Minho he had to wait five minutes before following her made you laugh. Neither had noticed you taking early stock on the ambulance this morning as they all but skipped into the station. You planned to confront her about it later. “Let’s get going!”

“Alright, eager. Something got you all hyped up?”

She turned to look at you, eyes narrowing for a second, and Newt gasped a little beside you as he realised there was some kind of gossip he had yet to be let in on, but didn’t bring it up, simply squeezing you a little tighter. “Alright, well, I don’t trust it. I want everyone in full gear, just in case.”

“Oh, God, I hate those damn helmets. So clunky and clumsy, I hate it.” Newt was complaining once again, his arm dropping away from around you to wander away towards a firetruck to gain a jacket and a helmet to match the rest as he followed the directions given by his friends, and he team around you all pulled on their helmets, masks hooked onto their hips in case they were needed.

“C’mon, let's get you all geared up. Think you can manage to keep it all on, for once?”

“What do you mean ‘for once’, Thomas? One time I took off a rope, one time!” He only beamed at your attitude, opening up the back of the Squad truck to begin getting out the spare equipment for both you and Newt. He simply shrugged, and Newt made a show of dropping down to sit on the concrete as he kicked off his sneakers, taking a pair of slightly scuffed boots, his own pair that was stored in the firetruck, and your own were much shinier, still waiting to be broken in like his were.

Dropping your bag down onto the lip of the van, you were more than happy to abandon the piece of material, despising it already, as the feeling in your stomach continued to make you dread everything about this unusual case. You took off your shoes to copy, and took the pair of oversized and heat-proof pants from Thomas, tugging them up over your uniform to cover your legs, and fastening them tightly around your waist.

“I already feel like I’m overheating.”

Newt only hummed from his seat on the floor, and Thomas dropped a jacket down beside his friend, the garment left abandoned. “Well, y’know, could take off your pants.”

Your eyes narrowed on Thomas as you pushed each foot into a boot, toes wiggling as you navigated your feet into the shoes, a hand braced on the side of the firetruck or balance, and he smirked at you as he held onto your jacket and waited. “Yeah, I bet you’d just love that.”

“He’s still waiting for his turn to see the cute panties.” Newt chimed in, and you leaned down, flicking him against his ear as you crouched to do up your laces, and he let out a loud shout of complaint and he wiggled a little on the floor to pull his fireproof pants up over his hips in a less than graceful manner.

“Yeah, well, he’s going to be waiting a while.”

“Don’t go breakin’ my heart like that, sweetheart.” He hummed, pouting a little as you moved to tie the other laces, glaring up at him as he continued to smirk, and Newt gagged dramatically at the interactions. You glared at him, too, your cheeks flushing with warmth, and you turned your back on the two of them, arms lifting to push backwards into the jacket Thomas was holding for you, before swiping up your bag and swinging it over your shoulder.

“I hope there’s a hole in that building, and I hope you both fall in it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Tommy here is already falling f- you dick! What in the hell was that for?” Newt’s words were cut off, a red-faced Lieutenant glaring at his best friend, your partner rubbing the back of his friend and glaring right back, and you didn’t pay either of them any attention, instead choosing to wander away.

As you walked, you fastened up the front of your jacket, making sure that it was sealed up tightly to lock out the chill, and Gally was taking the first team in. The Truck team were lined up at the main entrance, a pair of bolt cutters in hand as the chains were snapped on the front entrance, all pausing. The sound of breaking glass followed, the whole team ducking down securely as they waited for a reaction to come from the broken glass. An explosion, a wisp of smoke, a smell of gas or a sudden backdraft, but nothing came.

It was all far too unusual.

“Do you smell that?” Winston voiced, face screwing up a little as he stood, leaning towards the window, and you raised a hand to cover your eyes against the glaring winter sun, despite the chill in the air, the rays were still bright enough to burn your retinas. “Smells kinda’ like a gas station.”

“You think there’s petrol in there?”

“Could be. I’m not seeing any smoke, but it's dark, and the smell is faint. These buildings normally have basements.” He shrugged, and you tucked your hands into your pockets.

“These kinda’ buildings normally become makeshift homeless shelters. They burn fuel for heat, maybe it’s just a smell that's lingering. It’s been pretty cold out, lately, we might just have some squatters being called in by a landowner.” A helmet was placed onto your head, falling down into your eyes from the impact, and when you lifted it up, Thomas was walking away from you, adjusting his helmet and preparing to take command of his crew.

“Well, no matter what it is, we can get in and get out after doing a quick check.”

He took a place beside Gally, the two sharing a glance, before the taller one was taking control, kicking roughly at the large double doors until they creaked under the pressure, swinging open roughly and echoing around the inside of the first room, the sound bouncing from stone and metalwork until it finally died out. Various torches flickered on around you as each member of the team activated the device on their shoulder, and Newt stood before you, a frown on his lips.

“This feels weird to you, right?”

“Really weird.” You mumbled back, keeping your voice low as not to disturb the members of the team who were each pairing off to enter, Thomas and Gally directing them at the doorways as they disappeared into the darkened old factory leaving you and Newt to follow slowly. You knew that neither of you was supposed to wander off too far, you would be told to stay in the main room, near the doorway, and to simply wait until you were needed. Teams spread out, pairs disappearing through the corridors, some up the stairs to the next level, and some lower to the basement, tracing the building for any source of evidence to support why you’d been called here.

There was a pause for a while, a long gap of silence, and you could hear the team shuffling about, before Newt was nudging you with his elbow, keeping his gaze forward and biting back a grin as he tried to keep a ‘professional’ expression on, but he leaned towards you to whisper his request; “You wanna’ have a thumb war while we wait?”

“Absolutely I do.” You grinned, turning to face him as he gasped excitedly, his one body facing your own. The radio on your shoulder crackled, Gally’s voice coming through it as he reminded the teams to update on what they had found, and so far, a collection of ‘nothings’ were coming back. Holding your hand out, Newt’s fingers wrapped around your own in the opposite direction, locking the two of you together, and you folded your other hand behind your back as he followed suit. Your thumb tapped against your hand and his, ducking together as you counted down in a small chant together, before the battle was commencing.

He grinned as his digit moved, wrapping around yours and trying to pin it down, but you were quick to retract it, and the smile was just as quick to fall from his face. Simple huffs in angry exhales and quiet laughter was shared between you both as you waited for any updates, the longer the time making it seem more and more like you were in the clear, as no signs of danger showed up.

“Upstairs is totally clear.” Thomas sighed through his radio, and you cheered loudly as you captured Newt's thumb, pressing it down while he cursed, and beginning to count to three. He didn’t let you get that far, however, before he was snatching his thumb back at the final moment, and you booed him, his lips flicking up cheekily.

“Told you, it’s a prank call!” Gally mumbled, Chuck radioing in to confirm his room was clear, as did Minho, who was checking carefully over all of the power outlets, but while seeming a little battered and busted up, some loose fires and broken sockets, nothing seemed at risk.

“We’ve got something down here.. I think..”

“What do you mean you think, Winston?” You paused, the two of you agreeing to call it a tie as a lead was beginning to rise up, and you focused your attention on your radio, trying to make out the words through the interference.

“I mean, it’s damn dark down here, and the smoke torches don’t give us much. I’ll need a whole flashlight, but from what I can make out, there’s a fair load of petrol canisters down here. Some tipped over, spilt oil, but no fire.” You could hear him clattering about, the metal sound of a boot kicking lightly against the side of one metal container ringing through clearly.

“Can you count how many?”

“Not without the flashlights.” He replied, and various chatter about it began coming over the speakers as the two lurked on the edge of the barrels, Fry adding that the two couldn't even see the end of the room.

“I think I can get power up and running. These circuits aren’t too busted up, I just need to flip a few breakers, hold on..” There was a grunt, chatter between Minho and Zart as they moved around the room. It took a few minutes, that same anxious period of waiting looming over you all once again, and you let out a low breath, the twisting feeling in your gut was still there, and you hated it. Resting a hand over your stomach, you took a deep breath, trying to ease the racing of your heart. “Alright, everyone get out from under any lights, the power surge might smash some of the bulbs, don’t stand under where glass may spray.”

You and Newt both looked up, a row of lighting above your heads, and your steps were almost synchronised as you took a few steps backwards from the centre of the room, making sure you were covered from a blast of glass if one came. You shared a nod with your partner, before lifting a hand to the radio you wore, and clicking the button on. “Alright, we’re all good.”

“Everyone on top is clear.”

“Me and Chuck are good.”

“Nothing over our heads, you’re good to go, Minho.”

The collection of affirmations was answered by the flickering of lights overhead. The bulbs were yellow and musty, and you jumped a little at the shattering of glass across the room, shards raining down to create a tinkling noise as it bounced across the concrete, and the bulbs all slowly flickered.

“Oh, shit, Minho! Turn it off!” Your stomach dropped, a slightly patchy transmission through the radio, and your breathing hitched in your throat. “We’ve got broken wires down here, sparks coming through th-”

It all happened within the blink of an eye. One moment you’d been staring ahead at the staircase and waiting for news, before everything had been a blur. Your feet on the floor, your body flying through the air before you were slamming roughly into the concrete factor walls, and it felt like everything in your body became bruised at once. Your shoulder was crushed underneath you painfully as you hit the floor, a throbbing on the back of your head now matched by the side as you collide with the wall, the helmet on your head being the only thing that had stopped your skull from cracking at the impact, and it fell free, rolling away across the floor as you gasped for breath.

For a moment, there was nothing, you felt numb while you tried to focus on what just happened, eyes squeezed shut as your head spun and you choked back bile, and then there was the pain. A screaming kind of agony racing through every nerve in your body, and you couldn't hear your own groan in pain as your ears rang loudly. Like a siren but inside of your head, and the throbbing behind your eyes only seemed to increase as you pried them open.

Clouds of dust waiting to settle that you could barely see through, but the darkness that had once resided was replaced with a bright orange glow, half of the flooring from the centre of the room having crumbled entirely from the blast below you, flames and smoke licking up into the air and beginning to fill the room. You struggled, to even push yourself up to sitting, and you stretched your jaw, shaking your head clear to try and combat the ringing within your ears, before fumbling for the torch on your shoulder, and turning it on.

It didn’t do much, it didn’t help you see through the dust, but you blinked, clearing your vision enough to watch another dulled torch flicker on a few metres away from you, and you arched your back, your bag still there but your bones and muscles aching from being slammed into it against the concrete, feeling the imprint of the equipment under your skin. The walkie-talkie on your shoulder was going but you couldn't focus on that now, stumbling to your feet and tripping on nothing as you tried to step forwards, once hand pressed to cool concrete as you steadied yourself, and tried to make your way toward Newt.

He met you halfway, the sweat on his face matted with grey ash and dust, his eyes wide, a little frantic, and he licked over dry lips, which seemed to do nothing, as they were in much the same state only a second later as the once cold room was rapidly beginning to heat.

“Are you okay?” You had to shout just to hear yourself speak, and he squinted at you, seeming to struggle to hear himself, making you repeat the words, reading your words. He nodded, hand coming up to sit on your shoulders as his gaze scanned over you, and you did the same to him, silently checking one another for injuries.

The ringing was dying down a little bit, you could hear the flames now, and the sound of sliding and grating stone and metalwork as the unstable floor continued to break away in some places. “We should split up.”

“I’ll take upstairs if you take this floor?”

You glanced at the stairs, looking around the room, and assessing the gaps of concrete that looked as though they were still stable. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“You good?” He slipped a hand back up to your cheek, turning your gaze back to him, and making sure you were picking up the determination in his voice.

“I’m good, I swear.” He shook himself off a little, flexing his leg at the knee while holding onto you, all the way down until he was rotating his ankle a little, but you didn’t get a chance to question whether he was truly okay, before he was disappearing from your sights and brushing past you, a final squeeze of your shoulder in confirmation, before the smoke was swallowing up his figure and he was simply a disappearing flashlight that faded with every step.

There was a good amount of concrete left around the left side of the building, furthest away from where the basement with Fry and Winston must have been, and you paced back the way you came, making sure to scoop up your helmet as you went, and place it onto the top of your head, adjusting it carefully to keep your protection against the situation.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, the crunch of broken pieces of stone and dust under your feet, navigating your way through the smoke with a hand pressed to the all, avoiding the flames that were growing higher and higher in the centre of the room, just to find the corridors you’d watched your friends disappear down less than a half-hour before.

Finding your way, you were grateful to see that the passageway was intact, dark and filling with a layer of crawling black clouds along the ceiling but no damage that would impede your way, and there were several doors open. You took off in a jog, scanning the insides of each room, and coming to a skidding halt as you caught sight of the first of your team members behind a third door.

Minho was lay out across the floor, and Zart was kneeling by his side, the look passing over his face could only be described as the kind of relief that gives you epic highs as the stress died down, and you took a place on the other side of him, kneeling to check on the unconscious one of the pair.

There were darkened veins along his arm, and the skin under his glove was a little raw as you peeled it back to check over, the burns travelling all the way up to his wrist, The smell of burning flesh made your nose wrinkle, and you dropped your bag from your shoulders. Tucking your bag underneath his feet to elevate them, you pressed down over the artery in his neck, monitoring the speed at which his heart was still pumping. It was slower than you would’ve liked, but strong, and you could at least let out a little sigh of relief at that.

The muscles under his skin were twitching and spasms, the aftershocks of the current still tingling over his nerves no doubt, and you lifted one eyelid at a time to check him. There were no burst veins in his eyes, and his pupil reaction time suggested that he hadn't gained any permanent brain damage from it. There was a cut across the back of his head from colliding with the concrete after losing his helmet, but it wasn't too deep of a gash, and it was something that could be focused on after he woke up, because the dust was currently helping to clot the wound.

The radio on your shoulder clicked into life, and Newt was on the other end of it; “How you doin’ down there?”

Pulling back, you spared one hand to press the button to allow your reply, as the other tucked your torch away carefully. “Uh, I got Minho here. He’s out cold, got a gash on the back of his skull but nothing permanent, he’ll just have a bad headache and some aches when he wakes up, some burns on his hand to take care of. Might need a new glove, this one is a little charred.” You picked it up, examining the half-melted plastic fingertips, undoubtedly a power surge racing back through the system as it sparked against the petrol in his rush to shut it down. “How’s everyone up there?”

“Tommy and Brenda are okay. Gonna’ be a little sore, some minor injuries, a few cuts and scrapes, nothing terrible.”

“Tell that to the pain in my ribs.” Brenda coffee through the radio, a few slow chuckles following it, and the doorway beside you was filled as a shocked and ash-stained Chuck and Jeff filled the doorway.

“She’s fine, just dramatic.” You could practically hear Newt’s eyes rolling over the waves, and you motioned them a little further inside. Zart seemed okay, he was checked over, you flashed the torch over his eyes and asked him where his pain was, but much like you and newt, he’d had the luck of being stood away from anything else, just a headache from the blast and a sore through from the smoke, but he was quickly hooking up his mask to replace the ashy air with pure oxygen, and he assisted you in doing the same for Minho.

“I got Gally and Clint here, too. Gal’s okay, just complaining like Brenda, but Clint’s got a pretty bad cut on his face, I’m going to clean this one up now.”

“Okay, I’ve got Chuck and Jeff too, but the smoke is getting pretty thick down here already, so I’m going to head straight to Fry and Winston downstairs.” As if to punctuate your words, you heaved a loud cough, the burning dryness in the air scorching the inside of your throat, and you swallowed thickly to try and choke it away.

“No, don’t go downstairs. You don’t have a mask. How are Chuck and Jeff? Send them down.”

“We’re totally fine!” Your candidate all but chirped the words, and you glanced up at him, eyes narrowing a little as he spoke up, as though to convince you to convince Thomas to send them down to find their friends.

“No, I should be the one to go, I don’t know what state they're going to be in.”

“We’re okay. Well, we’re not, but we can make it to you.” A raspy voice came through, broken with a little more interference as the signal cut through snow and rock from the lower floors, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest as Fry’s voice came over the speakers. Everyone seemed equally as excited and relieved to hear from him, the tall man chuckling as his friends all hollered in response to his voice. “Winston is out, he’s got some bad burns, I put him out but he was standing in front of me, he pretty much took the whole hit. I can get him up to you, but I’ll need help.”

You finished up with Jeff, your hands leaving his body as you finished pressing over his torso for any cracked ribs or tensed muscles, any signs you could pick up now of anything that might be wrong. “Jeff, go help him. Zart too.”

The men nodded, and Chuck was all but bouncing in his boots before you as he stared. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“Bullshit. Chuck got thrown into a piece of machinery, looked pretty bad from where I was standing, his feet weren’t even on the floor for the blast.” You frowned at your friend, the official firefighter shrugging as he adjusted his mask before setting off, and the young trainee in front of you sighed. “Really, I’m fine. Sure, a bit sore, but isn’t everyone? Let me go help my friends, I’m all good.”

“Let me check you first, alright? I’ll be quick.” He sighed, but nodded his head, and you motioned to the front of his jacket, letting him unzip it for you. You started at his head, gingers smoothing through brunette curls as you felt over his skull for bumps and grazes, your fingers coming up dry over smooth skin, before you were moving down. You scanned his eyes, watching reaction times, and grinning a little as he winced and cursed under his breath for staring right into it and trying to follow the light, blinking rapidly to clear the retina burn. “Can you say ‘the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’ ten times fast?”

“Really?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’, his face screwing up as he pouted, but he continued to list off the words to you, repeating them perfectly, stuttering over the words occasionally when he went too fast and got tongue-tied, but it was enough to signal to you that he was certainly understanding what he was saying, and aware of the words, never having a problem with processing them in his mind. “Tell me your birthday, your mother’s maiden name, and the street you grew up on as a kid?”

“You sound like a scammer trying to hack into my Facebook account. Those are my security questions. Do you want the name of my first elementary teacher or my favourite musician from when I was fifteen too?”

“Nah, not the musician. That was only a few months ago, too easy to test amnesia against.”

“Screw you, I’m twenty-two.” He growled, and you chuckled, listening to him give you the answers you had requested, as your hands moved over his ribs. There was no swelling, and you studied his reactions, the occasional wince or twitch, but nothing to indicate any serious pain. He’d have some bruising, but so would everybody in here, and there was no hard or tensed flesh under his skin to suggest any kind of internal problems that would flare up.

“Any pain you should be honest about?”

“None but this conversation.” He mumbled, and you pinched at his side roughly, the kid yelping and shoving at your shoulder, making you laugh as he stepped back, fastening his jacket up in protection against the heat, despite the flames now quite having made it to this room yet. “Alright, but you’re not going downstairs.”

“I’m not?”

“No, I need you to go and get the stretcher. Winston is in a bad way, and so is Minho. Both need to go to the hospital. We’re going to be down team members, and we can’t handle this on our own. We also need another ambo’. I need you to go and call it in, get another team and another paramedic here.”

“I can do that.”

“What out for the fire, it’s the big orange thing that glows, it’s hot too, an-”

“I hate you!” He yelled, flipping you off as he exited the doorway, and you turned back to face Minho. You crouched beside him, fingers pressing to his neck again as you took new measurements for him, and you could hear the team hustling around you, the sound of the trucks starting up outside as hoses were unravelled and water was beginning o be sprayed, but it did little to ease your worries, because the flames above you didn’t concern you, it was the occasional popping sound of another canister going up in flames that did, followed by the shakes and crumbling of the building around you.

Clicking on your radio, you tapped your fingers nervously on your knee while waiting. “Zart, Jeff, where are you guys?”

“Right here.” You almost fell in shock at the voices in the doorway, fogged-up glass and oil marks on their uniforms, and you twisted to find the group stumbling through the doorway. With an arm over each shoulder, Jeff and Zart were dragging Winston in, his head lulling at an uncomfortable angle, and Frypan was staggering behind them, clearly having understated the severity of his own injuries. “Where do you want him?”

“Fuck, uh, right next to Minho.” You stood up, bushing down your knees, and pointing to the spot on the concrete as you moved away. “Here; put him here.”

You pushed the entirety of your hand out from under the oversized sleeve, leaning down to pick up your bag, but placing your hand flat to the floor, lips pursing as you felt the warmth. It wasn’t burning, certainly nothing you couldn't handle and it would do no harm to the men laying on it, but it meant that the flames underneath were right up and curling along the ceiling, burning through everything below and threatening to break onto your floor.

It was overwhelming, Fry slumping down to the floor as he became unsteady, and you regretted that he’d even had to climb the stairs at all, but there was no way you would have been able to drag him up them, and with the speed at which the flames were expanding, you were just glad you’d been able to spare Zart and Jeff to help him.

“Fry, I’ll get to you in a minute, okay?”

“Take your time, at least I’m conscious.” He wheezed, a hand resting over his chest as he took slow and steady breaths, and your mind was spinning as you took your bag out from under Minho’s legs, and tried to decide where to start with Winston. There was oil all over the front of his shirt, spotted with burned patches of material where Fry had put out the flames, and it covered your hands as you tried to undo his jacket.

The tips of your fingers burned as you touched the still hot material, the boiling oil against your skin making you bit down on your lip to content he pain, but once it was open, you were wiping your hand across your pants and coat, smearing the black liquid in stains over your clothes, fingertips tainted by the substance. You couldn't see what you were doing, a mixture of blood, dust, ash and oil covering his skin in layers, but any injuries underneath would have to wait.

Lifting his head and removing the helmet, your fingers ran through raven-black and matted hair. There were several swollen and solid bumps forming, but nothing too serious. His pupils were delayed in response time and his pulse was slow and faint, all signs that made you panic, but there was nothing that you could do yet.

“I’m here! What can I do?”

You could have cried in relief at the voice of your partner, and you hadn't even heard him arriving, nor did you hear the other pairs of boots scuffing, Brenda arriving in the doorway ad looking so thoroughly panicked and distressed over the unconscious man on the floor she had a bond with, but she couldn't reach out. Thomas was behind her, and Gally filled the corridor with Jeff and Zart, of whom you had never even noticed leaving, but they were helping to carry the house, and the spray of water reached your ears now as you focused on it.

“Fry. I think he has a concussion, possible internal injuries, I haven’t had a chance to check him yet.” Newt nodded, spinning in the doorway to face his friend, and you turned back to the colleague before you on the floor. “Bren, I need you too.” You glanced back, her eyes snapping up from Minho to look at you, and she swallowed thickly, before nodding. “I need you to watch Minho for me, think you can do that?”

“Yes! Of course, uh, how? What do you need me to do?”

Her words were hurried and rushed, and Thomas was barking orders into the radio on his shoulder that were silent in your ears as you tuned him out for the time being. “Gross, I know, but take his hand. Hold tight, and monitor the pulse in his wrist. Just make sure it stays strong and steady.”

She caught onto what you were offering, the chance to be with the man she cared for without anyone knowing the real meaning behind it, and she let out a relieved breath, a silent look of appreciation and passing over her face as she did as told, turning to care for Minho as you helped her disguise the affections, knowing that she wasn’t ready to be open about it yet.

“Thomas?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled, the radio almost drowning him out at the shouts that came through and you couldn't make heads or tails of any of it, mangled voices all clashing together, and you admired that he seemingly could.

“Can you check where Chuck is with that stretcher?”

“Says he’s on his way down, house ‘35 is sending their Squad and Truck over with an ambo’ should be here in minutes, he’s trying to guide the stretcher around the rubble and broken flooring.” You nodded, licking over dry lips that threatened to crack, feeling his eyes sweep over you as he assessed you for harm, but you had other priorities to focus on, like saving the life of your friend. “Can I do anything?”

“You can come and get ready to lift Winston onto a board, and then get him up top with Chuck. I think we should get him ready to go as soon as they get here.”

His form towered over you as he waited, and you pressed along his chest, wishing that he was awake to give you reactions, but there was still information you could gain from it right now, even if he wasn’t conscious. There were patches of blood pooling under his shirt from where you suspected the worse burns to be, the places where the fire had burned right through his jacket when the chemicals had landed on him, but you couldn't risk treating them now and exposing his skin to the heat that was building in the room, despite the team trying to combat it.

“I’m here! I got the stretcher!” The wheels rattled and squeaked as Chuck entered the room, his body colliding with the side of the door frame as he spun around the corner.

He parked up beside you, the contraception coming to a halt, and you leaned over Winston, reaching up to find the handle underneath the device, and pressing it upwards. The locks holding the stretcher up high gave out, the bed sinking down to a lower level, until the entire thing was almost on the floor, folding like an ironing board, and you began to undo the harnesses. Thomas and chuck helped, getting it all undone, and soon, they were all hanging loose, the cushioned base waiting for a body.

“What now?”

“Now, Thomas gets his feet, Chuck on his hips, I got his shoulders and his head, and we lift him quickly and carefully. We need to move as a unit, I don’t want to risk any nerve damage by lifting out of order, alright?” You tried to remain professional, absolutely terrified at the prospect of losing a team member, and the two men got into position.

On your count, you lifted, supporting his head on your forearms and your hands hooked under his shoulders, grease covering your hand again, and your nails scraped against his jacket just to keep a hold on his slippery figure, but he was rested against the trolley only a moment later, and you hurried to fasten up the straps.

Loose enough not to irritate burned flesh but tight enough to hold him steady for the ride up, Chuck and Thomas didn’t hesitate, before they were setting off and out to meet the next team. You could hear the sirens of the other team now, loud and clear as they pulled up, and between the flickers of rising orange flames, you caught sight of blue, reflecting on the smashed glass of the windows were ash layers didn’t dull the gleam, and the adrenaline in your body depleted just a little as help arrived.

You were down three team members, and you weren’t so sure you fully believed how well everyone else was doing. Clint was down for the count in your books, the head injury and the shock alone taking him off the board, Thomas looked a little dazed as he moved despite trying to keep it together, Brenda was completely and utterly distracted, and you didn’t like the wheeze you were hearing every time Gally spoke over the radio, despite being cleared by Newt. He was probably lying about his condition, you weren’t entirely surprised if he was, they were all far too brave for their own good.

That left only five you were sure of; yourself and Newt who were paramedics, not firefighters, and Jeff and Zart, as well as Chuck, but he was only a candidate. Of twelve team members, you only had five left who were operational, and you weren’t sure that was even the truth.

Your feet were unstable underneath you as you made your way over to Newt, shoving the contents of your bag back inside - not that you’d been able to use much, the injuries gained here weren’t exactly infield patch up tasks - and checked with Brenda as you passed by, who was counting the heartbeats Minho let out each minute as she timed them on her watch, and you would have aww-ed internally at her devotion to him had it not been for the situation.

“How are we doing over here?”

Newt glanced up, worry written over his features. “Definite concussion, some serious bruising, cuts I’m not too happy about but I got it clean. I’m out of paper stitches, used them all on Clint, you got any?”

“Yeah, I got some.” You felt grimy as you slid your bag down your arms, grease smeared across your skin, staining your hands and face as you wiped away sweat, stray hairs and layers of dirt, crouching down and rooting through your bag to find the paper stitches. As you located them, the men returned, the stained and battered stretcher belonging to your ambulance was back with your two coworkers. “Winston?”

“On his way to Chicago Med with the paramedics from ‘35; he’s all good.”

“We need to get Minho on that next stretcher.” Newt was rubbing a hand absentmindedly over his thigh, and you worried your lower lip for only a second, before you had decided on your plan. “Newt, take Minho to the hospital. He’s stable, get him hooked up to a monitor and he’ll be fine. I’ll take care of Fry.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.” You promised, Brenda and Chuck helping to get him all strapped up, before they were losing too, and you turned back to your friend, using a finger to tip his head up to look at you. “Keepin’ awake for me there, Fry?”

“Barely.”

“Just focus on me, alright? Why don’t you tell me about your latest cookery experiment.” He chuckled a little, and you peeled the first of the paper seals form the plastic packet, squeezing shut the cut across his shoulder in the fabric that newt had cut away to revel, blood oozing up over your fingers a little as you did, and he groaned at the feeling, before you were placing the first seal down.

“I’ve never made mac and cheese from scratch before, can you believe that?”

“Never?” You teased, and Thomas knelt beside you both, silent but patting his friend's good shoulder, and you peeled up another stitch, placing the sticky seals down carefully along his skin.

“Never. I’ve been practising different recipes, and I would love to make it for you all.”

“That sounds amazing. I love mac and cheese, so you stay awake for me and hold on, and I’ll help you cook it just as soon as you’re back on your feet.” As you placed the last one that was necessary, you tucked the plastic packet away, searching for your spray bottle of antiseptic, and cupping a hand over the wound to stop the residue flying into his face or eyes, before shaking it thoroughly.

“Oh, you gonna’ be my sous-chef?”

You took the chance while he was distracted, laughing lightly, and spraying over the wound, his groan of pain not missed by your ears as the other house began to storm through the building, their whole team uninjured and functional as they tackled this tragedy. “You bet I am. Think you can stand for me?”

He nodded, but was clinging onto Thomas for help, and you zipped up your bag quickly. “House ‘35 is going to take care of it all, everyone else is waiting outside. Brenda will drive the van, and you can check over everyone else.”

Thomas threw the words over his shoulder to you as you navigated through the building, the pathways you’d used to descend to them all were far thinner than they had been, the floor caving in more and more, and you stuck close to the wall for support as you passed them by, the shine of daylight getting stronger and stranger as you neared the door, and you were sure that you’d never quite get used to the cool feeling of a breeze every time you excited a burning building.

You were covered in soot, oil, and sweat, and you couldn't wait to just get back to the house and wash off. The rest of your team were standings around, the ones who hadn't been shipped off to the hospital, anyway, and you let out a heavy sigh as you glanced over them. You’d all looked better; everyone having taken a defeat today, slumped shoulders and worn-out bodies as you passed your sight over each one.

“I just want to check over one van before we leave, and I’ll check over the rest on the way there.”

“Who’s doing the best?” Thomas questioned, a chuckle rising from everyone at the irony of it, and your lips flicked up as he took your helmet from you, throwing it uselessly into the back of the Squad truck and not even bothering to put it away.

“Well, I already checked out Chuck and Fry, they’re all good. I want to get another glance at Gally, but Jeff and Clint are good to go. I’ll ride back with Squad and Truck can go up ahead.” Thomas only nodded, grimacing as he stretched while moving away, loading your shoes into the van too, and Brenda flopped into her seat within the truck from the second she’d climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Newt already said I was alright.” Gally offered, handling his helmet in front of his body as he came to stand before you, and you raised a brow at him.

“So, you don’t have any chest pains I should know about?” His mouth opened, denials spilling from his lips, and you lifted a hand, placing it flat on his chest and pushing down with a minimal amount of force, but even at the light contact, his words were cut off as his breathing hitched, face screwing up in pain. “You sure?”

“It was no big deal, really. I got thrown, I landed on some material, chest first. It’s just sore.”

“Does it hurt when you breathe?” You raised a brow, smoothing your fingers over his chest lightly and pressing down against the muscle in certain spots as you tried to get a reading of where the injuries were, without actually having him strip his shirt off in the middle of the area.

“A little.” The winces on his face continued on until you were halfway around his sides, and down to the base of his lungs from the tops of his shoulders, purple bruising beginning to flash up along pale flesh when you pulled the neckline of his shirt aside to take a look. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

“You’re not gonna’ like it, but when Newt gets back with the ambo’, I think you should go and get some scans.”

“Do I really have to go to hospital?” He mumbled, groaning in discontent towards the end of his words, and you shrugged, a slight smile forming on your face.

“You really do.” He frowned, and you shrugged, pulling your jacket a little tighter around yourself. “Clint needs stitches and so does Fry, so I need to take all three of you, anyway.”

“Oh, so it’s a club thing, then?” He grinned, tucking his helmet under his arm as he wandered back toward the trucks alongside you, and Thomas was holding open the backdoor of the Squad vehicle, Zart already sitting inside, head tipped back to rest on the seats and eyes closed, exhaustion taking over.

Jeff was behind the wheel of the Truck van, with Fry, Clint and Chuck in the back, a space left for Gally. It was much the same with Squad, Brenda sitting up front and a space left for Thomas, neither truck having their usual driver and they felt unsettling empty with half of the team missing, but you forced yourself to swallow down the anxious feeling, the worst seeming to be over, exhaustion being all that was left. The Truck engine started up, hissing as it took off of its brakes slowly, and Brenda composed the motions, twisting the keys to start it up as you came to stand before Thomas.

He stood slightly taller than you, and as your eyes swept over soot-stained skin, you caught sight of the red on the underside of his jaw. Settling a hand on his cheek, he gave no resistance as you tipped his head back a little, his pulse thrumming under your thumb, and you let out a soft breath. “Not too bad, just a little cut. I’ll clean it up for you.”

“Didn’t know it was even there.”

“Oh, manly man, doesn’t know he’s hurt.” You teased, a breathy laugh leaving him as you let him go, and his hand found the small of your back through layers of material as he helped you climb up and into the van, the door slamming shut behind you.

It took him only a second to round the vehicle and get himself in, before Brenda was following quickly on the tail of the other truck onto the road, sirens unneeded as you slowly made your way back to the firehouse, the day seeming like a real blow, a rare day when there was no victory for your team, no lives saved that you could pat yourselves on the backs for, and some of your team already rushed away to the hospital.

As the van moved, the ache in your body seemed to loosen a little, and you set your bag down on the seat beside where you were, kneeling against the cushioned chairs to lean over the backs towards the front compartment. There were so very light burns along the edge of Brenda’s face, nothing any more severe than a sunburn, but the skin still looked inflamed with red and a little sensitive, and you shuffle through one of the inside pockets that Newt had arranged for you, seeking out a cooling aloe wipe, and tearing the top from the foil packet.

The piece of fabric was damp and cool under against touch, and you leaned over the seat carefully, making sure to be gentle as you wiped along the edges of her jaw, her attention fixed on the roads ahead of her, but she smiled a little at the relief of the cooling gel infusion against her skin. As soon as you’d finished caring for the delicate wounds, you used the wipe to clean the tips of your fingers, the rest of your skin still stained with the remnants of everything you’d encountered during your failed expedition, but the flesh of your fingers were clean, a dollop of burn relief cream coating the tips of two fingers.

A patch along her jaw was shiny and a little greasy from the residue of the cream, waiting to soak in and soothe the wound, but it was no longer bothering her and that was enough. Thomas tipped his head back a little, his body deflating under the weight of the coat over his chest, sagging in his tiredness, and his head rolled to the side to peer up at you.

“Me next?”

“Thought it didn’t hurt?” You grinned, a scowl taking place on his lips but the edges trembled as he threatened to smile, and he let out a little huff.

“Fine, I’ll just let it get infected, probably get some kind of blood infection, then I’ll die.” You couldn't hold back the laugh you let out at his dramatics, his eyes glimmering a little in the reflection of the mirror into the back as he caught your gaze.

“You are so melodramatic.”

“It’s a possibility!” He defended, Brenda and Zart adding small laughs to the mix, and your fingers brushed along his jaw, tipping his head to the side and ankling it upwards to catch the light on the cut as you examined it. Taking out a cotton pad and adding a douse of antiseptic to the centre, he held his head in that position.

“It’s a very low possibility. This is barely a cut.”

“Yeah, well, even if it- stings like a bitch, holy fuck!” That made Brenda laugh loudly, the van swerving a little in her shock, and he flinched away from you. “What the fuck, I thought it was ‘barely a cut’?”

“That could not possibly have hurt that much! Stop whining!” He growled a little under his breath, heat flushing over his cheeks as he complained about the skin being sensitive and the cut being deeper than you must think, and his head came back up to the correct angle as soon as you’d rubbed a little healing gel onto it. “Oh, you’ll be fine. It’ll be totally gone within a week.”

“Maybe you should kiss it better.”

Your head twisted to look at Zart, his eyes weren’t even open as his hands sat folded across his stomach, resting his eyes, and you were almost back at the station, your own cheeks flushing with embarrassed warmth now, and you packed your things away as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

“You know, just for that, you get to do reps next shift.”

“I did nothing wrong!” The foremen complained, his lieutenant sitting up front with a smirk on his face as he abused his power, and you grinned to yourself as Brenda all but howled in amusement. You almost missed the crackling of the radio on the dashboard over the amusement, and the shout that came through it, but the static was cleared by the second call, and the laughs faded away into silence.

The mood within the cabin changed in all of two seconds, laughs and gentle teasing with warm cheeks became blood running cold and a chilling shudder running along your body. The firetrucks ahead of you swerved onto the side of the road, their desperate calls for you to stop and join their vehicle made your legs feel weak, and you scrambled for the door handle before the truck had even finished rolling fully to a halt.

Their doors were already open, the body on the floor made you almost rip over your own feet as your mind short-circuited.

Hunched over on the floor of the van was Chuck, his body jerking unevenly in seizures as his hands hung by his sides, and as you knelt by his sides, a sudden cough shook his body, heaving for breath as he struggled to suck in any breath at all. You didn’t have the ambulance, or any of the equipment you needed, and you were left with only what you had in your bag and your bare hands.

“What the hell happened?”

Gally looked lost for words as you demanded an explanation from him, and you rolled Chuck onto his side, trying to position the larger man into the recovery position as he coughed. “I don’t know! One minute he was fine, said he felt a little dizzy, and that his vision was blurry around the edges but we all just assumed it was because he was tired, like us, or had a headache or something. But then he was talking, and his words didn’t make any sense! We called you, and as we were pulling over, he just fell out of his chair like this!”]

“Do something!”

“What’s happening?”

“Is he having a seizure?”

There were too many voices, you had no idea what was wrong, you’d done your initial examination of the boy and nothing had shown up. He was talking, smiling and chatting. He was steady on his feet with no signs of injury other than some bumping and bruising, no internal bleeding or cuts, and yet, he was having a seizure under your hands that you couldn't stop.

Your fingers pressed to his neck as you tried to find the strength or speed of his pulse; slow, unsteady and weak being your answer. “I need my bag! Someone go and get it!”

Multiple pairs of booted feet moved, and you solved a hand into the oversized pocket of the fireman's jacket you wore to find a torch you’d discarded long ago. Lifting one eyelid and flashing the beam of light over it, there was no longer a reaction, his pupil never moving, and your own heart felt like it stopped beating in your chest. Your bag landed next to you, the firemen gathered around you, but it felt like the world was slipping away, crumbling to ash and dust with everything you touched.

The whole day had felt oddly like it was moving in a mixture of slow motion, and too fast for words. Like you were walking through tar, but placed on fast forward, but this was different. This was the moment that made it seem like everything came to a stop, while minutes turned to seconds. It was too fast for you to handle, but flashing before your eyes like a video being played scene by scene. Like an out of body experience, a lucid dream, your hands being your own but the motions feeling detached, as your mind began to shut down on itself in shock and horror.

Voices ringing in your ears; screaming and shouting at you, begging you to do something, and yet you were doing all that you could, but nothing was helping. His seizing didn't stop, neither did the blood he was coughing up, splattering across your cheek in trails of wet droplets, spraying down your neck as he convulsed, across your chest as you leaned over to try and tip his head back to help him breathe.

“We need to get to the hospital, why is nobody driving this damn truck?”

Your hands were on his chest, trying to pump when you felt his body go still, when his heart stopped beating under your palm. It wasn’t the first time you’d lost a patient, it wasn't the first time you’d felt life slip away, your fist closing as you grasped to hold on but their life slipping away under your palms, but this was the first time you felt the life of a friend ebbing away and you were helpless to stop it. Your body was thrown from side to side, violently as you were threatened to be tipped from your kneeled position, sirens overhead and traffic swerving out of your way as the firetrucks raced.

Gally’s voice was clear in the ruckus, muffled but able to be picked out, calling into the hospital across the radio to meet you all outside, doing his best run down of the situation as he called for help, and there was a headache born of stress forming behind your eyes that threatened to split your skull right open.

This was Chuck; your first friend in the firehouse, the sweet kid who always had flushed cheeks and bouncy brown curls who was the first to really make you feel less alone, like maybe you’d found a home, the first person to truly let you in. The first person to talk to you on your first day, the first person to share a joke with you, the kid who made you tea when you were tired and watched romcoms, and had his squad training already all lined up because he just knew he was going to pass his exams. He had a locker only two doors down from your own, and his peppermint body wash always made your eyes sting a little but you'd miss it if it didn't, and you weren’t ready to let him go.

There was crying, wailing and screaming of his name, and it came with a flash of pain in your throat as the voice sounded suddenly hoarse and strained that you realised it was you. The wet heat on your cheek was no longer blood but salty tears, and there was a messy mixture on your face that smeared over your skin as you tried to wipe your tears away, stinging at your eyes, skin feeling raw as the rough material of your sleeve caught against sensitive flesh.

The doors of the firetruck opened; your arms, from your wrists all the way to your shoulders and your back, ached as you continued to pump at his chest, and two doctors you didn’t know had to pull you back and off of him to be able to lift his body onto the stretcher. He was rushed from sight, carried away from you quickly, your team surrounding the doorway as they all held the same look of abject horror, staring after the candidate they loved so deeply as he was taken away.

And then there was Newt, appearing from double doors to stare out at the scene before him, wondering what in the hell had happened, just like the rest of you were, the weight of the mystery looming over you all like a crushing weight, concrete sinking you to the ocean floor. You couldn't take it, not the whispered questions of confusion or the worried glances or even the hands that reached out to rub at your shoulders as they tried to bring you back from the brink, you couldn't take it.

It was Allison standing beside you, the nurse you’d met a couple of times, and your throat felt about as dry as sandpaper as you turned to face her, one clean and delicate hand reaching up for you, but you swerved away from it, the idea of another person’s touch right now making you feel more nauseous than you already did.

“Gally. He needs scans.” Her brows furrowed, and your voice didn’t even sound like your own, forcing you to choke back emotions and swallow down on a raw throat as you tried to think. “Chest injury, he needs some tests done. Clint needs stitches, so does Fry.”

“I can get that sorted, but don’t you think you ne-”

“I need to go. I need to go now.” You nodded to yourself, licking over cracking lips as you looked back to the doors that Chuck had disappeared through. “I need to go and be with Chuck.”

You didn’t pause, not when she spoke, calling out after you, or when Brenda reached out. Not when Thomas called your name, followed by an endearing pet name that was falling on deaf ears, or even when Newt reached out to snatch your wrist, fingers skimming your skin as you shouldered through the door, stumbling in placement after him. You heard him follow, though. The familiar pattern of footsteps that you knew to be your partners as his shoes squeaked across the floor.

You didn’t make it far, thumb jamming into the elevator door button and leaving a greasy mark across the shining silver button; oil, dust, blood, sweat, chemical. You didn’t bother to clean it off as the doors opened, and your blond friend slipped in alongside you once they closed again. He hit the right button this time, and he didn’t say anything, but he did take your hand, squeezing tightly and not letting go, even when you pulled away, when the pull to close in felt too strong, when the offer of comfort felt unwelcome and undeserved, he forced you to take it anyway, and in the silence of the elevator, the first real sob broke free.

They didn’t stop after that.

Not when you stepped out of the elevator, following along to the waiting room you’d become familiar with over almost a year of being around this hospital, of making friends. Your friend was dying, you finally allowed yourself to settle, to believe you were able to have something good, and it was being torn out from under your feet slowly, piece by piece. The thumb rubbing over your skin, and the tickling of the clock on the wall that showed minutes melting away until over an hour had passed was all that kept your panic attack at bay, the rhythmic sounds and motions keeping you in control, even if everything felt like it was spinning out.

At some point, you’d claimed enough to sit down, you didn’t know when, you didn’t really recall the decision, but now that you were sitting down in the chair, every muscle felt like it was too weak to ever stand again. You were exhausted, there was nothing left within you, and you were choking down the urge to vomit with every breath you took. Nervous reactions, the ticks in your muscles, the occasional spasms in the aftershock of such an adrenaline rush, and you were struggling to even breathe at this point.

Newt whispered words to you occasionally, statements that seemed to go in one ear and out of the other, but you’d retained a few key pieces. Clint and Fry were all stitched up, and had been taken back to the station with the rest of the firefighter’s when they had left. Minho was dismissed and to go straight home, and to follow the medical advice given to him by his house paramedics, if your head was ever going to be back in the game again, and Gally was much the same. He had internal bruising but no cracked ribs, he would just be achy and sore for a couple of days maybe even a week or two. Winston was due out of surgery any minute now, burns peeled of fabric and skin cleared of chemicals, but he wouldn't wake up until the morning, and he’d be in the hospital for a few days yet.

Then, came Chuck.

What seemed like hours later, and you were sure it was, if the change in the lighting outside as the evening began to creep in had anything to suggest, and you didn’t need to hear the news. It was obvious, as your friend stepped through the door, the mournful look on Derek’s face even when you knew that he hadn't been the one to perform the surgery, and what left you had seemed to fall away.

You had nothing left to give, no tears left to cry or screams left to let bounce from the walls. It was numb; cold and dark and lonely. You didn’t want touch, you didn’t want comfort or words of calming endearment, or anything else. You wanted your feet to move underneath you, and to carry you out to the van to go back to the station. You couldn't even speak, you couldn't thank Derek for coming to give you the news himself, to be the one to break your heart and deliver the blow a little softer than a stranger would have, but it was like he read your mind, because he dipped down, pressing what felt like a brotherly kiss to the top of your head, before Newt was wrapping an arm over your shoulders.

They traded a few words, things you missed, unable to cling to even a single syllable, before you were being guided along, white shiny halls like a blur around you, until you were sitting in the cold seat on the passenger side of the ambulance, clipping yourself in like you were on autopilot, and resting your head on cool glass, your eyes sliding closed.

You didn’t register the journey, none of the speed-bumps or dips in the road, and the silence in the cabin felt utterly stifling, your skin crawling as Newt drove beside you, slow and steady as he guided the van along, and your fingers were digging to tightly into your palms that you worried your nails would tear right through the skin and shred your palms. Your eyes were burning, holding back tears, and everything in your body felt like it centred on a weight, hanging on a pit in your stomach as your guts twisted into knots, bile rising in your throat as you choked it back, and your body jerked forwards a little in the seat as the van came to a stop.

Newt whispered an apology for the abrupt halt, his parking a little wonky when you cracked sore eyes open and blinked into the light, skin stiff from salt and stained with the horror of the day, and you didn’t bother to reply. As soon as you stepped out of the van, the team were there, all freshly showered and clean, changed into their own clothes and staring at you expectantly, and it felt like you were holding the entire world upon your shoulders.

“There was nothing that could be done.” He let out a sigh, heartbroken gaze flickering over everybody standing and waiting for news in the bay. “He had a-”

“Subdural haematoma.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, cutting Newt off, and their attention moved back to you as you cut Newt off. “He had a subdural haematoma. That, uh, that means he had a brain bleed, a tear in a blood vessel on the left side. He would have been fine if he’d made it to the hospital, if I’d noticed it, but it clotted rapidly. That gave him a pulmonary embolism.”

“The clots to stop the bleeding in his brain stopped blood from being able to get to his lungs.” Newt clarified, and you wondered if the way you were feeling on the inside was reflected on your face. “They tried to operate, but there wasn’t anything they could d-”

“I should have noticed sooner.” You mumbled, and Newt twisted to look at you, but then the feeling in your guys became all too much, and you cupped a hand over your mouth, pushing through the team as you stumbled in the closest you could get to a run. Pain radiated along your arm as you pushed through the main door to the locker room with your shoulder, knees hitting the hard tiling of the bathroom floor and making a cry leave your lips as you fell. The stall door slammed against the wall, a loud and echoing sound that made you wince as it rattled your skull.

Hands found the edges of cold porcelain, tears blurring your vision as you emptied your guts into the bowl. You heaved, bile and vomit burning your throat, and you couldn’t breathe, a flash of panic racing through your mind at the feeling as your body continued to wretch, before a further sickeningly thought crossed your mind as the fleeting thought about Chuck feeling the same way passed your mind. He couldn't breathe either, he had suffocated on his own blood as he bled out, all because you hadn't found the signs of his bleeding, because you hadn't helped him hold on a little longer, because you hadn't been able to save him.

A hand was on your back, and you arched away from the undeserved comfort, before fingers were wrapping in your hair, holding the loose strands that had fallen stray out of your face, before the hand was taking place again, rubbing soft circles against your back through the layers of material. There was no more bile, there were only tears, wracking sobs that broke you down as you cried, everything feeling weak, and you could barely hold yourself up.

That same hand moved, pulling you backwards until you were slumped out across the floor. You were trembling, shaking so violently you could barely reach a dirty hand up to wipe across the back of your mouth, and you managed to blink tear-filled eyes clear to look up at the person before you.

“Get out, Thomas.”

“Why?” He whispered, and you couldn't hold back the humourless laugh, shaking your head before you were breaking down into sobs again, and he shushed you quietly.

“Get out, Thomas! Get out, leave me alone, go away! Just get out!” You thrashed, his arms wrapping around you tighter as you pushed back against him, cursing and screaming. “Why won’t you leave me alone, just let me sit here, just let me be!” Walls were going back up inside of you, to protect yourself as the reality of the situation began to really settle in your mind, and you couldn't put them back up while Thomas was standing in your way, every ounce of pain leaking in. “I don’t want you here, get off me! Get out!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled you a little closer, the angle awkward, your hands pushing at his chest until there was no strength left in your body, and he held you tight. Your fingers gripped at his shirt, pushing weakly as your words became gabled and muffled, and you couldn't take it anymore.

You gave in.

You only had so much fight to give.

“He’s dead, Thomas..” Your words were like the final piece to truly accepting it, and you sniffed, sure that your skin was wet from a disgusting mixture of tears, vomit and snot but he never let you go, a hand rubbing up and down your back as his fingers slipped free from your hair, the ends damp against your skin where your upchuck had caught them in the crossfires, and yet, you couldn't even bring yourself to care about hygiene or impressions as you came to accept that you’d lost a friend. “He died, I could have stopped it. I should have done more, I should have checked again, I should ha-”

“There was nothing you could have done. Newt told us about it. He explained it. There’s nothing you could have done.” He pushed hair back out of your face, uncaring for the situation you were in, and wiping his fingers over your cheeks gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. It’s my job to look after you all, and I failed at that.”

“That’s such crap.” He mumbled, your eyes snapping up to find his, and brows furrowing. “How were you supposed to know what was going on inside of his skull? Huh?”

“Thomas, I’m not in the mood fo-”

“The truth?” He snipped, cutting you off, and his hands hooked under your armpits as he pulled you up to your feet, your legs giving way and weight falling onto him as he supported you, one hand on your neck as an arm held up around your waist, thumb brushing under your jaw. “Look at me.”

You dragged your sights up, honey-brown eyes filled with concern staring down at you. “It wasn’t your fault, and nobody but you thinks it was. If Chuck were here right now, he’d call you out for blaming yourself.”

It was true, you knew it was, and it made your lips curl into the briefest smile you’d ever had.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” You could only nod, his hands now both on your waist as he guided you in slow steps towards the shower. There was grime covering your skin, bodily fluids, grit and dust, all the way to grease and oil, and you hate the feeling of another caked-on layer against your skin. The water tap creaked a little as Thomas twisted it, water bursting through, and you were still gasping for breaths through your sobs as you stepped underneath it.

It was freezing, at first, the cold water was like a shock to your system as you closed your eyes and tipped up into the flow to let the harsh droplets wash over your skin. It began to warm up, and your lips parted, letting you breathe as you tried not to break down again. There was a rattle in the distance, the sound of someone moving through a locker, and your legs buckled once again. The weight of the world on your shoulders, the weight of everything that had happened, crushing you down into the ground, and your back smacked against the edge of the stall, and you sank down, until water was swilling around you as you curled your legs to your chest under the flow.

“Oh, sweetheart..”

Your chest ached a little at the tone of his voice, whispered words that hardly carried over the thrashing sound of the water, and his hand reached out to place your washkit on the small ledge out of the spray radius. His toes locked behind one heel, taking off his boots, before his sock followed, and he repeated the actions on the other foot. Bare feet met watery tiles as he stepped inside the stall, water beginning to mark over the edge of his t-shirt as he stepped close to the spray. “You’re going to get wet.”

“I don’t care.” His hands stuck out, expectantly waiting for your own as he stepped before you, water soaking over his back and clothes, hair growing wet once again, droplets shifting over his skin and dripping from the end of a sweetly upturned nose, and you slipped your hands into his. As he pulled you up, water bounced from his body across your face, and your bottom lip trembled. Tears were gathering in his own eyes, like he was only just getting a grasp on the situation, and his hands left your own, to smooth up over your arms.

A single tear escaped his eyes, lost in the droplets along his cheeks, and he cried silently while the sounds of your wailing filled the space. His fingers slipped under the edges of the jacket you wore, the heavy coat sodden with water, and he slipped it down your arms slowly, until it was hanging from your arms, and he took it from you, reaching outside of the cubicle to drop it to the tiled floors, and it felt a little easier to breathe now that it was gone.

“There are so many people who care about you. Right outside of those doors, all worried about you, all wanting you to be okay, too.” He pushed back wet strands of hair, delicate touch easing the bobble from your hair, letting the damp bundle fall around your shoulders to be washed too. His fingers moved to the buttons along the front of your paramedics uniform, the crisp white spattered with black and red, tarnished with grey, and as his nimble fingers undid each button, he leaned in, lips brushing over your skin, slow and tentative, until he was pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, water dripping over his lips, but he pressed in carefully, hands barely moving between your bodies.

He shifted, only a centimetre or so higher, across your cheekbone, a kiss pressed there, too, as he peeled the wet fabric of your shirt down your arms, discarded with your jacket, until just a wet vest covered your torso, white material going see-through under the fall. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and your neck, and then your shoulder, before he was sinking lower and lower to the floor, kneeling before you and moving his hands to your boots, tugging at the laces until they came undone.

Your hands balanced on his shoulders as you lifted each foot, letting him tug away boots and socks, your toes aching from the strain you’d put on them, flexing a little against the tile when your feet were lowered again. Large hands smoothed up the backs of your legs, circling over the front of your thighs to tug the string of the firefighters pants loose, and he eased them down your legs, revealing the smart dress-pants of your uniform from underneath, and the pile building outside of the stall was leaking water across the floor into a large puddle, but neither of you cared.

You weren’t sure when you’d stopped crying, but you had, sniffling and a sore throat but the tears no longer came, and Thomas shuffled before you. He leaned back a little, clothes clinging to his skin much like your own were, and you raised a hand from his shoulders to push the wet hair plastered to his forehead back and away from his eyes, his head twisting to press a kiss or his palm. You weren’t sure whether it was for your comfort or his, but it soothed you a little anyway.

His hand found your waistband, tugging lightly on the material as a finger slipped underneath, his eyes locked on your own with a silent question hidden inside, and when you gave him no resistance, his other hand joined. He popped the button delicately, tugging the zipper down, before inching those trousers further down your legs. Each movement he made revealed a new patch of skin, and he peppered occasional kisses over the fronts of your thighs as he moved, nose nudging against your skin, until you were stepping out of the trousers, a hand under his chin to pull him back up to his full height, and the rest of his body followed.

His skin felt hot against yours as your palms inched underneath his shirt, locking onto the bottom of his tee, before pulling it upwards. His hands raised over his head, allowing you to strip the material away from his body, ruined and sodden, joining your clothing on the floor. His hands were on your cheeks as soon as they dropped back down, pulling you forwards until he could let his lips meet your forehead. He pressed a kiss to every spot on your face, and every time he did, it was like he was pulling another piece of your fears and worries away from you, relieving you of the pain.

He gave you no hesitation when your hands found his belt, undoing it swiftly and tugging the leather from its loops, before his trousers were following, kicked away and discarded to the ground outside, tugging your vest out of his way so bare hands could smooth down over your sides, pulling you forward until he was holding you so close that the body heat rolling off of him flooded over your skin and gave you goosebumps.

His forehead rested to yours, and yet he never moved it further than that, sharing breath, lips brushing ever so slightly, a tingle felt right to your fingertips, but he didn’t kiss you.

It wasn’t the right time, and both of you knew it. It was a development that was inevitably coming, every snowball of affection added to the avalanche, dragging you both down with it, but it wasn’t time yet. This was a time of hurt and comfort, of seeking a moment of respite in one another’s embrace, and your hands wrapped around his body.

“Just hold me, Tommy,” it wasn’t a crashing realisation, nothing abrupt or sudden, but more of a peaceful revelation as his arms squeezed a little tighter around you, that Thomas had made himself a place in your life that you’d never be able to replace, “and don’t let me go.”

“I don’t plan to.” He whispered, lips pressed to the top of your head as comforting kisses were left there in the wake of his words. Tense muscles in his back relaxed under your touch before your hands were hooking onto his shoulders and your chest was pressing to his, hearts racing in matching beats, as he dragged you in closer.

His head dipped, face pressing into your neck the same way yours was in his, and his fingers spread out across your back.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, minutes or hours seeming to slip by, the rhythmic fall of the water letting you slow your heart down, your chest rising and falling in synchronicity with Thomas’, his fingertips digging into your flesh as you clung to one another.

At some point, he moved, one hand leaving your body to reach out to the shelf, and find some soap. The later shifted between both of your bodies, his fingers moving through your hair with shampoo and conditioner to follow, and the dirt of the day sliding from your skin made everything feel a little easier to handle, less of a burden and more of a weight, shared with the man before you as he helped you to hold it up.

There was more, a whole team, willing to step in and help you bear the pressure if you’d just let them, and you wanted to do so. You were so scared to lose them but it was out of your control, and you couldn't do it alone, not any more.

When you finally felt like you had the power to give in, and to step back, the water was turned off, water dripping along your body and from the ends of your hair, before Thomas was reaching for a towel. He wrapped one around his waist, a blush rolling over your face and a subtle smirk on his lips as he did, the material sitting low against his hips, water still dripping along his body, and you tried not to follow any of the droplets as he stepped closer to you.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I’d get the honour of getting you undressed quite so soon.” Holding out another towel, he sealed it around your body, letting you tuck it tightly over your chest to hide the underwear you’d been left in, as you suddenly became overly aware of your near-nudity. Your jaw dropped a little, eyes going wide, and he chuckled at your panicked state, shaking his head and letting his fingers smooth down your arm until one of his hands was pressed loosely to yours. “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not looking. One day, you’re gonna’ ask me to, and I want that moment to be the special one.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Your fingers laced with his, tugging him closer, and he dipped down, smiling softly as the tip of his nose dragged along your hairline. The door opened, Brenda coming to stare at you both, red-rimmed eyes and a soft smile, before she shrugged lightly.

“You want me to brush your hair for you?”

Something told you that the gesture would be just as comforting for her as it was for you; she was heartbroken, and undoubtedly chafing at the bit to get off shift and see Minho, but your heart soared at the idea that she might find comfort with you like you did with her, just like Thomas did, or anyone else. They were your family, and they needed you as much as you needed them.

You took a seat on the bench before her, and so opened up her locker, producing an assortment of bottles from inside. Her fingers ran over your scalp, separating the hair out as she sprayed something that smelled like watermelon over your scalp, working it through your hair, before following it with a plastic comb. Thomas had disappeared to get changed, and your fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the towel, pulling at loose threads. It was a material you didn’t recognise, not yours, and you figured that the worn fabric must belong to Thomas, because his had been matching.

When he came back around the edges of the locker, you lifted your he'd, watching as Thomas inched yet another fresh t-shirt down over his body, shaking his head a little as damp stands got stuck, and you winced a little at a knot that tugged on the strands, Brenda whispering her apology.

“I’ll go and wait outside, alright?”

You nodded, your hand reaching up to grasp Thomas’ before he left, and he paused, waiting a moment and squeezing back, before smiling. He leaned down, lips brushing over the crown of your head, before he was walking past, and you could practically already hear the words she wanted to say. While you didn’t know what they were you could feel them hanging over your head as she brushed quietly, and the second the door fell shut to leave the two of you alone, she was letting them go;

“You’d be cute, y’know.”

You knew what she meant, but feigned confusion, despite it. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” She teased, poking you in the back of the head slightly with the comb, before she was bringing another chunk down to begin brushing through it. “I’ve known Thomas for a while, but I’ve never seen him like this. He really cares about you.”

“I care about him too.” You mumbled, and while you didn’t see it, you knew the smile that was on her face and could picture it in your mind. “I care about you, as well, Bren. I care about all of you.”

“We care about you too.” She finished her brushing, pulling the strands back out of your face, before she was picking up the next bottle. Some foam, you weren’t sure what for, but she added a few pumps of it onto her hands as she rubbed her palms together, before weaving it through your hair, and you relished in the simple touch of being cared for so gently. “We don’t blame you. Please don’t shut us out. You might not need us right now, maybe you’re used to doing things alone, but we need you.”

Tears pulled at your eyes again, and you turned to face her, finding her in much the same way as she blinked them back, her hands falling away to her sides. “I need you, Bren. I need you because you’re my best friend, the only best girl friend I’ve ever had, and the only person who takes me out for a wine evening, which I think I’m going to need, because I’ll need some girl advice at some point.”

She grinned, a watery and shaky smile, chin wobbling a little as she put her things away, before taking a seat on the bench before you, sniffling lightly. “I don’t think you’ll need the advice, have you seen the way he looks at you? I might be the one needing advice.”

You wiped at your cheeks, laughing lightly to avoid your shyness. “I noticed that you stayed the night at Minho’s last night, on a work night, no less.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“I’m observant.” You teased, and her head ducked, giving her a moment to think over her words, you stood, opening your locker, and searching for a change of clothes. You weren’t shaking as much, and while you were technically still on duty for another hour, you were praying no more calls came in, because you were changing straight into your comfy clothes, a hoodie and some leggings, ignoring everything else, and switching out your underwear behind the door of your locker.

“Thank you for letting me be with him today.”

“You were helping me do my job, I should be thanking you!” You offered, clipping a fresh bra behind your back, before pausing, and staring into the locker at the t-shirt you had available. It was your house ‘21 emblem shirt, comfy cotton, and it felt soft under your touch, lifting it up to bring it over your head, and once you had, your hoodie was following.

“I know that you didn’t need my help, but you were trying to help me. That’s real friendship, thank you.” You just shrugged, pulling on a second pair of socks for comfort, and closing your locker, with your toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, the bitter taste of bile still in your mouth, and heading over to the sink. Switching on the tap and running your brush underneath, you added a dollop of the paste to the bristles, and began to scrub at your teeth.

It was relieving, to wash away the final elements of the breakdown that you’d had, and Brenda was kind enough to scoop up the still dripping articles of clothing on the floor as you did, and load them into a plastic basket. She offered to take them to the laundry room for you, but you had her leave them, saying you’d do it yourself, and then, you were left alone once again, promising you’d be out in a minute to find the team.

The reality was that you needed a moment to yourself, to process that for the first time ever, you had a team to turn to, people you could truly let your walls down around.

Balancing the basket on your hip as you left the room, you took it with you, drips of water left like a breadcrumb trail as you padded socked-feet across the bay, towards the laundry room. You weren’t sure how it should all be done, officially, whether there was a set temperature or cycle to set off the heatproof materials on, but you just dumped it all into a washer too tired to care, and taking a moment to clear your mind.

A scoop of some kind of European washing powder that Gally swore by, and the scent of florals filled the room as you added it. A splash of fabric softener, a few buttons beeping upon being pressed and the lid closing, and then the machine rattled to life as the sound of water rushing through the pipes bounced through the room. You left the basket propped up against the wall.

Newt was the first by your side upon entering the room, eyes wide as he wrapped you up into a hug, talking a mile and minute about how worried he was before cutting himself off with a hiccup, and you clung to him just as tightly, feeling him sag into your touch a little. “There was nothing that could be done.”

You were the only intended audience for the words, whispered into your ear as he hugged you, a hand petting your damp hair gently as it dried in the warm air, the heaters all turned up high for warmth, and the group were dotted around the room. “I know. I’m sorry for running off.”

“Are you okay?” He pulled back, eyes glossy like everyone else's, and you frowned, wiping his cheek to clear away a tear that fell.

“Are you?”

He shrugged, neither of you really knowing the answer to that question right now, but you did know that you would be. With the companionship of your team, your friends, your family, you would be just fine, as long as you allowed them to help you. You shook yourself off, Newt collapsing back down into his armchair, and everyone else seemed to have a place in the room. Brenda was sharing a couch with Jeff and Clint, Fry was sitting on the end of the couch beside Thomas and scrolling through the channels, a space left empty for you.

You glanced up, familiar eyes meeting yours, and he tipped his head lightly to the side in offering. You stared a moment longer, your feet carrying you more directly towards him, and he watched as you found yourself before the space, lifting his arms up as you collapsed down into it. You weren’t shy this time, or unsure about what it meant. You knew exactly what you wanted, and what it meant.

You wanted the safety of being in Thomas’ arms, the temporary relief from the emotional turmoil you had when he held you, to sync the beta of your heart up to his as it thudded under your cheek when you laid your head on his chest. Tipping your head up to see him, you didn’t care about anyone else right now, you didn’t care about anything else, because you were surrounded by the people who meant the most to you.

You saw the cut on his jaw again, running a finger over it, and you tried to push your mind back to before everything had happened, to before the pain. You were in the truck laughing with Brenda and Thomas and Zart, cheeks flush from the warmth of a joke made about your blossoming relationship with the lieutenant, and comment about a sweet gesture to be made. Leaning up, your lips followed your finger, pressing a soft kiss to the spot, and a breathy sound left Thomas as you did, before he was bringing his other hand up to thread into your hair and brush at the strands lightly.

“What was that for?”

“I was kissing it better.” You mumbled, his heart beating rapidly under your head, your fingers brushing and the cotton of his shirt, and Fry finally settled on a movie. He leaned down, a prolonged press of his lips to your temple, before he was nosing gently at the spot. It was far from the first kiss he’d given you today, but this one was different, because it was without anything else hanging over it. No tears, no desperation for comfort, simply a kiss, given in the company of all of your friends as though he had no care about who witnessed it. “What was that for?”

“I was kissing you better.”

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #SAF #smoke and fire #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

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hockey-hoe-24-7 · 3 years

Text

In That Dress?, feat Andrei Svechnikov

Warnings: Smut, some roughness, jealousy, not proof read

Length: 1,777

“Remind me again why I can’t go?”

Rolling your eyes, you looked away from your reflection in the mirror to your boyfriend who was standing in the doorway, pouting. Looking at him, you had to smile and internally swoon. Only he could look that good in simple grey sweatpants, a sweater, and a childish pout on his face. It was infuriating sometimes, how he always managed to look incredibly attractive. It was something you had been meaning to speak to him about.

“Because my boss says you will be a distraction.”

“Because I’m so good looking?”

You gave him a glare, but it was completely buffered by the smile you couldn’t hide.

“Because if you were there I wouldn’t be able to devote my full attentions to mingling with the guests, and attention would be on you when it should be on what the event is about. He says you are more than welcome at the next event, but this one needs to go perfectly.”

He didn’t look like he liked that answer, but he didn’t argue either, so you went back to applying your makeup, aware of him still hovering in the doorway.

“So you’re going alone?”

“Yep.”

“In that dress?”

“Yep.”

“Hm.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in the mirror.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You look amazing.”

“Why thank you.”

“That’s a problem. You look too good and every single guy there is going to hit on you.”

You rolled your eyes, capped your lipstick, and turned to face him. “Andrei, every guy there isn’t going to hit on me. And even if they did, you know I wouldn’t do anything.”

He frowned and pushed himself away from the doorframe. “Of course I know that, Y/N.” He walked over until he could run his hands slowly over your hips, which were displayed very well in the dress you were wearing.

“I also know that every guy there is going to imagine fucking you out of this.”

Leaning into the heat of him, you placed your hands on his chest. “And how do you know that?”

“Because it’s what I’m imagining right now.”

You narrowed your eyes again and gave his chest a light push. “Uh-uh. It took me forever to get my hair right and you will not ruin it.”

He gave you that trademark smirk, his eyes hooded and glinting. Cocky little bastard.

Knowing how weak you were when it came to giving him what he wanted, you twisted in his arms and went back to work on your makeup.

You felt Andrei’s grip flex. If there was one thing he did not like, it was being ignored. He probably saw your warning as a challenge.

Your assumption was confirmed when you felt Andrei’s fingers run across the back of your neck, gently moving your well-sculpted curls over your shoulder and out of his way. When he touched his lips to the back of your throat in a teasing kiss, you couldn’t help but shudder in response.

“Andrei...”

Of course, he completely ignored you and continued what he was doing. With deft fingers, he unhooked the top clasp of your dress and began tugging the zipper down. With every few inches of skin revealed, he left a long, warm kiss. Your makeup abandoned, you gripped the edge of the counter, tried to calm your stuttering heart as Andrei went lower and lower.

When the zipper reached your waist he laid one long, final kiss to the small of your back, letting his teeth only just graze the skin.

His hands left your body and you took a deep inhale, trying to compose yourself so you could finish getting ready - your brain went haywire when his hands wrapped around your ankles and moved swiftly up your bare legs, taking the hem of your dress with it.

"Why aren’t you wearing panties?”

“Um, the, uh, lines...panty lines...”

Andrei growled something in Russian and you shivered at the sound.

A large hand at the small of your back was pushing you forward and you went with it, leaning over the counter until your curls brushed the marble surface.

You gasped, clenching your fists as he licked a long line up the seam of your pussy, applying a delicious amount of pressure to your clit before moving away. You arched your back, desperate for more and he complied, settling in between your legs, a hard grip on the back of your thighs as he continued to lap at you. His pace was slow, teasing, but you knew his grip well enough to sense an urgency behind it.

“Baby, please...”

An uncontrollable groan bubbled from your chest as he pushed his tongue inside of you, one of his hands rounding your hips to rub at your clit. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, he pulled away, leaving you gasping, your pussy fluttering around empty air.

Before you could say anything, he was swiftly coming to his feet, reaching in his sweatpants and pulling out his cock. Shoving your dress further up your back, he collared the back of your neck with one hand and guided himself inside you with the other.

You both shuddered and groaned at the familiar sensations; you at the breathtaking feeling of being filled up by him, Andrei at the exquisitely painful heat and tightness of you. Leaning his head against your back, he flexed his hips in a shallow thrust, taking a long moment to savor the feel of being inside you. When you shifted impatiently beneath him, he tightened his grip on your neck and clapped his other hand to your hip. Holding you steady, he pulled his hips back and thrust back in. As he ground hard, you whimpered, trying to push your body back against his grip. He held fast, your strength nothing compared to his.

Pulling out agonizingly slow to both of your groans, he pushed back in. Again and again he did, faster and faster until he was pounding into you, your hands sliding against the marble, your hipbones slamming against the marble edge. You stole a glance in the mirror and saw him behind you, his eyes shut in pleasure, his head lolling back in ecstasy.

When the orgasm came, it washed over you like a wave, pulling you under and robbing you of every sense until the pleasure was all you knew. Andrei continued to thrust into you, slow and languid as he took you for everything you had to give him.

You leaned your forehead against the high curved sink faucet, trying to catch your breath. You felt Andrei’s breath hot on your neck as he leaned his forehead against the bare skin of your upper back, his chest muscles flexing with every breath. It was a long moment before he began to pull out of you, your pussy clenching around him. He kissed down your spine as he pulled away, letting your dress fall back over your hips.

As you both raised your heads, your gazes met in the mirror. His eyes were hot and sated and you looked thoroughly fucked, your face flushed and your dress hanging off your shoulders. His hands were suddenly back on your hips and he was spinning you around, clenching his hand in your hair and slamming his mouth onto yours in a a kiss that was more a mark of possession than anything else. You clenched your hands in the fabric of his sweatshirt, only able to hold on for the ride as he drank from you.

With one last sharp nip to your bottom lip he pulled away. “Now no one will doubt you’ve been fucked.” A spark of irritation found its way through your fading arousal and you summoned up a half-assed glare, which was buffered by the heat in your eyes.

“You’re horrible.”

A smirk. “I’m aware.”

You pushed on his chest, not moving him an inch. “Get out. I have to finish getting ready. And I’m going to be late now.” As you turned back to the mirror, Andrei zipped your dress back up, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder before fastening the clasp. “I have something for you.” You raised your eyebrows in question, but got no answer as he twisted on his heel and padded down the hall to his bedroom.

Just as you finished putting on another layer of lipstick, he reappeared, something clasped in his clenched hand. Your heart skipped when you saw what he was holding.

His number #37 chain lay against his palm, the silver glittering in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. You gave a valiant effort, but there was no hiding the huge smile that broke out over your face. He smiled wide. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told, moving your curls out of his way as he reached over your head and pulled the chain around your neck, fastening it at your neck. His hands lingered on your skin and his eyes met yours in the mirror again. The heat in his gaze made you swallow.

“Now everyone knows who you belong to.”

The words made your thighs clench, but you knew you couldn’t let that snark slide, so you elbowed him in the ribs. When you turned back toward him to give him a soft peck, he fisted the chain, pulled you forward and gave you another claiming kiss.

“Don’t stay out too late,” he murmured against your mouth. “Or I’ll have to come and find you.” With those parting words, he handed you your coat, which you hadn’t realized he was holding in his other hand.

The event was a hit and your boss pulled you over multiple times to congratulate you with a giddy smile on his face. You would also have to be blind to not notice the male attention you were receiving. There were quite a few who would admire you, then run their gaze smack into the chain hanging around your neck. You guess they recognized it because they all looked away, flustered and tugging at their ties. Every time they did, you thought of a few hours before, how Andrei had felt pounding inside of you, reminding you that you were his.

You all but raced home after the event, finding your boyfriend on the couch playing video games. When he saw the look on your face, he was moving, bending down to throw you over his shoulder and prowl back to the bedroom.

You ended the night on top of him, his hands digging hard into your hips, yours braced on his chest, and the #37 brushing the skin of your chest.

#Andrei Svechnikov #Andrei Svechnikov smut #Andrei Svechnikov imagine #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl imagine #smut #fic #imagine #lemon #my work #mine #hockey-hoe-24-7 #hockey fic #hockey smut #hockey imagine

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jean-kayak · 3 years

Text

Highlight Of The Summer

Summary: You’re staying with your cousin for the summer, and it turns out to be the best decision you’ve ever made

The four times you tease Matsukawa and the one time he pays you back

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei x black!fem!reader

Warnings: a whole lot of sexual tension, sexual tendencies, use of drugs: weed, shotgunning, a whole lot of teasing, (smut 18+!!), unprotected sex (stay safe out there dudes!), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), throat fucking, ass slapping, daddy kink, nipple play, little fluff and aftercare at the end LMAO

Word Count: 5,847 (words of just filth)

A/N: I don’t know if y’all know, but I am a WHORE for Mattsun, so please enjoy this for you fellow people who agree with me. Also, this was wayyy longer than I thought it was going to be, but whew chile I got flustered just writing it lmao, so here y’all go. P.S: I also mention something about a sleep bra? Like a bra that’s not a bra bra but it’s not a sports bra either?? Idk what it’s called so, I just called it a sleep bra lol

PART TWO//PART THREE

"I forgot to mention, I need to warn you, dude," Hanamaki speaks up as he passes the ball to Matsukawa, who continues peppering, but now there's a confused look on his face.

"Warn me about what?" he questions playfully, spiking a controlled ball to Makki.

"My cousin's coming into town, and she’s staying the whole summer." Makki's words show that he's annoyed, and Mattsun chuckles.

"Okay. Still doesn't tell explain why you had to warn me."

"She's crazy, man. And gets on my last nerve." Mattsun chuckles again at his best friend's opinion. He goes to respond, but a voice stops him before he can speak.

"Hiro!!" Hanamaki catches the ball as his head drops as he lets out a groan. Mattsun watches a figure run up behind Makki, and they wrap an arm around his shoulders, catching him off guard as his body falls forward slightly. "How's my favorite cuzzo doing, huh?"

"Was doing just fine until you came," he spits, and you laugh.

"Oh, come on, cuz, don't be like that. I know you love me deep down, don't fight it." You laugh again when he throws your arm off his shoulders, and your laugh stops when you land on the guy standing a few feet away from him. "Now, Hiro, why didn't you tell me that you had hot friends?"

Mattsun feels his face heat up at your sudden compliment as he lets out a choked laugh. You walk forward a bit as you start talking. "I'm l/n f/n, but I'm willing to change my last name to yours. Care to tell me what it is?"

You finish with a smirk, and you can help but feel more confident when he gives you a slow once over. "Ma--"

"None of your business," Makki cuts him off, and you roll your eyes as you turn to him.

"Oh, come on, man, don't be like that. I'm gonna find out anyway because I'm gonna be staying with you." His eyes widen at your statement as you smile widely at him. "Oh, you didn't hear? Our moms thought it was a good idea to let me stay with you. For the whole summer." You pause before saying the last sentence for dramatic effect, and your smile doesn't falter as Hanamaki's scowl gets deeper.

"You have to be fucking with me right now," he says, and you shake your head eagerly, knowing that he can't refuse.

"Nope. I'll go get my bags from the car." You bound over towards him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders before rubbing the top of his head with your fist. "This is going to be so much fun," you say excitedly, and he shoves you off of him.

You chuckle and start to walk off to your car, but not before you send a wink to the hot guy standing in front of you.

You bounce happily to your car, and Makki lets out a tired sigh as he fixes his hair, his face showing how pissed he is when he looks at Mattsun, making him chuckle. "She's...something."

"ONE more game, alright?" Makki pleads, and Mattsun rolls his eyes but gives in.

"Fine." Mattsun's phone dings twice and he picks it up quickly before Makki can see the screen.

"Someone important?" he jokes, and Mattsun doesn't look him in the eye as he struggles to find an answer. "You gonna tell me who it is?" Mattsun gives him a look that tells it all, and Makki scoffs. "How'd she get your number?"

"From your phone obviously, Hiro," you bud in, your face right next to Makki's as he jumps away from you. "You know your phone password is really easy. You should change that."

"What did you do?" he asks, and you wave him off as you stand upright behind the couch.

"Oh, relax, just his number...and I sent a few selfies of you to myself." Makki scoffs again as he turns to look at you. "You know, to post for your birthday."

Makki releases an angry sigh as he stands, mumbling something about going to the bathroom, and you roll your eyes at his dramatics as you smile.

You glance at Mattsun, who's not looking your way, and a devilish smirk makes it way onto your face as an idea comes to your mind, your core pulsing at the idea of it.

"You know, Hiro always loved to collect movies," you say out loud, more to yourself, testing how he reacts.

"Yeah, it's gotten bigger since I've last seen it," he responds easily, and you hum as you walk around the couch, making your way towards the entertainment center around the TV full of movies.

"It's been a while since I've seen it, but it's definitely grown since then." When you get to the entertainment center, you bend over to look at the movies on the lower shelves when you hear Mattsun's breath hitch behind you.

You know that these are a shorter pair of your shorts, you must've put these in the dryer by accident, and you can feel that a good portion of your ass is out, and the fact that you know he's watching you, sends a jolt right down to your core.

You don't know what it is about this guy, but teasing him riles you so easily that you can feel your juices staining your shorts. You bend over a little further, and your smirk widens when you hear a muffled groan come from behind you.

When you hear footsteps coming from the hallway, you stand back up and turn around, the both of you keeping your eyes on each other as you walk towards the couch just as Makki is coming into the living room.

Makki sits where he was sitting, his attention still on his phone, and you walk to the back of the couch, leaning down next to Mattsun's ear, the one that Hiro can't see.

"If it wasn't obvious," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, "that wet spot was for you." Your tongue darts out to touch his earlobe, pulling on it lightly with your teeth, chuckling softly when you see his hands grip the controller harder.

You stand up and start walking out of the living room. "Make sure you guys keep the noise down, 'kay?" you say as you disappear down the hallway.

Meanwhile, Mattsun's solely focusing on not getting a boner with his best friend right next to him. "She say something nasty to you?" Makki speaks up, making Mattsun jump.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. She's always saying some out of pocket shit." Makki clearly doesn't understand what kind of out of pocket statement you just said to him, and he clears his throat as he nods, thinking about anything but you as he tries to control himself.

TWO sounds come from behind you as you're sitting in the backyard. A sliding door and footsteps coming closer to you. "I'd knew you'd join me sooner or later."

He chuckles. "Yeah, well, I wanted to see what your definition of 'surprise' was."

You laugh lightly as you reveal your surprise without looking at Mattsun, the little plastic bag in your hand.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yep," you respond, popping the 'p' as you turn to him. "Found Hiro's secret stash. Wanted a smoke buddy. You down?"

You look back at him, and he shrugs saying fuck it as he sits in the lounge chair next to yours. You roll the first one, putting it in your mouth as you flick the lighter. You take the first drag, coughing a little as you blow out the smoke. "Damn. Should've known that Hiro had the strong stuff."

You pass it to Mattsun who does the same as you before passing it back to you. You both pass it back and forth two more times before you speak again. "You ever shotgunned before?" you ask, your brain already feeling like it's slowing down. He keeps his eyes on you as he shakes his head slowly.

"Wanna try?" He thinks about it for a second before nodding once. You clumsily find your way to get up without dropping the blunt and walk over to where he's sitting. You rest your free hand on his shoulder as you lift one leg, moving it to the other side of the chair as you straddle him.

You bite your lip as you sit on his lap, feeling him through the thin material of both of your shorts. His hands find purchase on your waist, his fingers rubbing on the exposed skin under your crop top.

You keep your eyes on his as you pull from the blunt, and your other hand finds the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you bring his head closer, your lips dangerously close to touching.

You breathe out, both of you watching the smoke go from your mouth to his. You watch as he breathes in then tilts his head up to breathe the smoke out. He blinks slowly as he tilts his head back down, both of you maintaining eye contact as he grabs the blunt out of your hand.

You watch as he takes a hit, and one of his hands runs up your back to grab at your neck, a shiver running through your spine the opposite way. He pulls your head down, lips brushing against each other as he exhales into your mouth.

You inhale deeply, lifting your head as you breathe the smoke out. You look back down, keeping your head in the same position, making your lips touch again. "I noticed that you sometimes sleep on the couch," you speak up, your lips keeping close contact, you're almost kissing him.

"Well, the bed I usually sleep in is taken," he quips back, and you lean into his ear.

"You could always join me. I don't bite," you whisper, and you roll your hips forward, and you don't miss the way he releases a shaky breath in your ear, the sound going south easily. "Whaddya say?"

"THREE scoops of ice cream should be enough," you say to yourself as you put the top back on the ice cream container, placing it in the freezer.

You grab a spoon from one of the drawers and find a seat at the island in the kitchen. You're halfway through your ice cream when you hear footsteps coming into the kitchen. "Who eats ice cream at three in the morning?"

You smile at the question as you dig into your ice cream. "Me. What about it?" The owner of the voice walks into your view, standing on the other side of the island. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I couldn't go to sleep anyway," Mattsun answers honestly. He hasn't been able to sleep well every time he's over here. You suddenly filling up every one of his desires. But one day, he's going to get back at you. The more you tease him, the more he gets riled up.

"Want some?" you ask, sticking the spoon in your mouth and dragging it out slowly, his eyes never leaving your mouth. He nods silently, and you put some ice cream on the spoon, moving the spoon towards his mouth.

He grabs your hand, moving the spoon towards his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. He slowly pulls the spoon out of his mouth, letting go of your hand. "Tastes really good." He stands up, leaning over the counter. "And you've got some," he reaches his hand out, his thumb gliding over your bottom lip. "Right there."

He puts his thumb in his mouth, licking it clean before he smirks at you. Two can play at this game.

You grab his hand, leading it over top of your bowl. "And you've got some," you dip his finger into some of the melted ice cream. "Right there."

You coat it in the creamy liquid before lifting it up to your mouth. Staring right at him, you put the digit in your mouth, tongue flicking all around it, making sure you get all of it off.

He lets out a garbled 'fuck' and you pop the finger out of your mouth, giving him a proud smirk.

"FOUR pancakes? You're gonna eat four pancakes at once?" Mattsun asks his pink-haired friend as said friend stacks them on his plate.

"Yeah, I am," he deadpans, "and you better go wake Y/N up or else she's not getting anything." Makki takes the plate, walking out of the kitchen as Mattsun takes a deep breath as he walks to your room.

He knocks on the door, and when he doesn't get a response, he cracks open the door to see you on your stomach, covers sprawled out everywhere. He lets out a small huff as he smiles, walking towards your sleeping figure.

He can't help it, and the first thing he does is rake his eyes down your body, one leg bent at the knee, the other one straightened out. Your shorts have come up in your sleep, your butt on display, and Mattsun diverts his eyes as he calls your name.

You don't respond, and he leans down to shake you gently. You turn your head, and he can see that your eyes are still closed. "Y/N." He says your name a little louder, shaking you a little harder.

You stir and your eyes open slightly, a sleepy smile coming onto your face when they land on him. "Hey, Issei." You take a deep breath, and Matsukawa ignores the way your sleepy voice saying his name makes him feel. "What's up?"

Your legs switch positions, making your ass shake from the movement, and he wills himself not to look. "Makki made pancakes," is all he can manage to get out, and you roll over on your side to stretch, but that doesn't make things better for Mattsun. Your boobs falling out of the sleep bra you're wearing.

He looks away, willing the thoughts to go away as you stand up, fixing your clothes as you yawn. "You're not gonna put a shirt on?" he asks as you head for the door, and you wave him off.

"Nah, it's too hot. And you like the view too, so..." You trail off, walking out the room as Matsukawa's face turns red.

He takes another deep breath as he follows after you, and you've already made a plate. "Jeez, Y/N, couldn't you put some clothes on?" Hiro complains from his place on the couch and you shrug.

"Well, when you stop turning off the air conditioning during the hottest day of the summer, I would have some clothes on." You pour syrup over your pancakes, and when you see Mattsun watching you, you slide out of your cousin's view.

You put the syrup down before dipping your fingers in the pile of syrup that dripped down from the pancakes onto your plate. You coat them in syrup, lifting your fingers up in front of your mouth, spreading them apart watching the strings connect your fingers.

You look right at him as you stick your fingers in your mouth, and as much as he needs to, he can't look away, and he's teetering on the edge of a dangerous cliff. You see his fists clench as he pushes his lower half into the island.

You pull your fingers out when they're clean, and you walk towards him, setting the bottle of syrup next to his plate. "Seems like you've got a problem there. Let me know if I can help." You walk out, sending him a wink over your shoulder, and he waits until you're out of view to slam his head onto the counter.

"FIVE minutes until what?" Makki asks into his phone, and you see his face drop before he slaps a palm on his forehead. "Shit, that's today? Okay okay, relax, I'll be there in like fifteen." He hangs up the phone, and you watch as he runs into his room, and when he comes out, he dressed a little more formally.

"Wow, who are you getting all dressed up for?" you ask, spreading out on the couch.

"I forgot about this thing my friend wanted me to attend to." He makes sure he has everything before booking it to the door, but not before he turns to you. "Y/N, please behave."

You roll your eyes. "Sure thing, Dad. Have fun." And he leaves.

You lay down on your back on the couch, humming a tune to a song you can't bring yourself to remember the name of when you hear Mattsun walk in. He's shirtless and you assume he just took a shower because he has a towel resting around his neck.

"Did Makki just leave?" he asks you, standing behind the couch, and you nod.

"Yeah, had to do something for a friend. Probably won't be back for a few hours." You put one arm behind your head, the other resting on your stomach as you shift a little, making yourself a little bit more comfortable.

Mattsun's eyes drag down your body, and you feel your body ignite under his gaze. You watch as he walks around the couch, standing where he's looming over you. "Need something?" you ask, and there's a different look in his eyes.

"Stand up." His voice is deeper, darker than it usually is, but you don't move. "I won't tell you again." You don't admit that this new sounding voice makes your core beat in excitement, but you stand anyway, standing right in front of him.

He gives you a smirk that nearly makes your knees go weak, and he steps beside you, taking the towel from around his neck and spreading it out over the couch. You raise an eyebrow, and when he turns around, you go to speak, but he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, crashing his lips onto yours.

You squeak in surprise, but it's easily swallowed as Mattsun kisses your mouth hungrily. His other hand palms your ass, gripping it tightly as he pulls you flush against him. When you gasp, he shoves his tongue in your mouth as your hands find their way onto his broad shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, and it takes you a while to come back to your senses, your head dizzy with lust as you catch your breath. "I don't think you can take it," he says into your neck as he starts planting hot, open mouth kisses, stopping at the bottom of your neck, grabbing the skin there with his teeth, making you hiss.

"T-Take, what?" Your brain is barely keeping up with his words, only focused on what his mouth is doing. You hear him chuckle against your skin as he moves to the other side of your neck, both of his hands now on your ass, and he presses you against him even more, and you can feel his erection digging into your thigh as you let out a quiet moan.

"This dick," he tells you bluntly, and he lifts his head up. Now that he's not on your neck, your head is a little clearer, and you chuckle softly as you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Oh? Confident in your skills I see." You start to drag a hand down his ridiculously toned torso as you start talking. "I've never been one to back down from a challenge." You feel your mouth drop open when you feel how big it is, and Mattsun huffs at you.

"You sure? You don't sound very convincing." You erase the initial look of surprise on your face, replacing it with a confident smirk, making him raise his eyebrows at you. Before you can say anything else, he's spinning the both of you around, pushing you so you're sitting on the couch, the obvious tent in his shorts in your eye line.

You rake your eyes done his naked upper half, eyes zeroing in on the happy trail that disappears into his shorts. He shoves his shorts down his legs, his cock flinging up, hitting his stomach, and your eyes widen when you see his size. He's huge. He's bigger than anyone you've taken, and at your reaction, he smiles. "I thought you don't back down from a challenge?" he picks at you, and lick your bottom lip as you smirk.

You lean forward, taking him in your hand, and you can feel how heavy he is as you guide him towards your mouth, tracing a thick vein with your tongue up the side of his length. You hear let out a deep sigh before you take him into your mouth, and you don't even have him halfway in when you feel your gag reflex surfacing. You try to use your hand on the rest of him that's not in your mouth, but he pushes your hand away.

"Nuh-uh. You can be a big girl and use your mouth," he tells you, and you start to sink further down. "Fuck," he whispers harshly, and his hand finds its way to your hair, and you close your eyes as his grip tightens. He starts to push your head further down his length until your nose is brushing those soft curls. "Shit, your mouth is good for something other than being a tease, who knew?"

He starts thrusting into your mouth, and you relax your jaw as you breathe through your nose, your hands digging into the thick flesh of his thighs, and he hisses at the feeling. The noises he's making are making you even more aroused, and one of your hands leaves his thigh to try to give you some release, but he stops you once again. "Don't you fucking touch yourself. Do it, and you won't, fuck, won't get to cum at all. Shit." You attempt to whimper around his length, the vibration sending a chill down his spine as he feels himself getting closer.

The rhythm of his thrusts starts to become sloppy, and you bring a hand up to tug at his balls, and that sends him over the edge. He cums with a loud groan of your name, you swallowing every last drop before he lets go of your hair, and you fall back against the couch as you catch your breath. He wobbles a little bit as he takes in your disheveled features, drool and tears running down your face, and he feels himself getting hard again.

He pulls you up from the couch, sitting in your spot before pulling you back down on his lap. Your shirt and sports bra are taken off quickly, and he attacks your chest making you cry out in pleasure as your hands grip his hair. His mouth is sucking and biting at one nipple while his hand is stimulating the other and then he alternates.

"Shit, Issei, fuck, please." Your words have no thoughts behind them, your brain no longer operating, and you push him away from you before you stand up, shedding your shorts and sitting back down on his lip, a breathy moan escaping your lips when you feel his dick brush your folds.

He watches your reaction when he lightly drags his fingers back and forth across your folds, and you whine as you grip at his shoulders. "Please don't tease, Issei, c'mon," you beg, and your eyes look at him when you hear him laugh.

"Oh, now you don't like teasing? Maybe I should just keep teasing you and not give you what you want," he proposes, and you shake your head as you rub against his fingers, trying to get some release. He looks down, seeing your folds shining with your juices, a huge strand falling onto his fingers and he holds back a moan. "You're soaked, Y/N, all this for me?" he questions, and you nod your head vigorously.

"Yes, Issei, it's all for you, just please touch me," you plead and he shoves two fingers inside your pussy, making you release a loud moan as you lean your head in the crook of his neck. You can hear the squelching sounds as he fingers you, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as you feel him stretch you out on his thick fingers. "Issei," you start, but a loud smack echoes through the room, and you let out a whine as you feel your ass cheek sting.

"That's not my name, sweet girl. I think I've let you get away with it for long enough, don't you think?" he whispers in your ear and his voice sends a tingle right down to your core, making you clench around him. "Come on, baby, you know what it is." He stops moving his fingers, and you whimper against his neck, trying to move, but his grip on your hip keeps you still. "Say it, pretty girl."

"Daddy, please, don't stop," you sigh out, and you can feel him smile in satisfaction as he continues his fast pace, and you cry into his neck at the sudden movement. "Please, oh, please."

"It's okay, tell Daddy what you want," he coos, and he pushes onto your clit with his thumb, and you arch into him, his fingers a stark contrast to his other hand that's rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

"I need--" You cut yourself off with a scream when he pushes against that spongy spot inside of you.

"Tell Daddy what you need, baby."

"I need you inside me, please." He adds another finger, and you grip his wrist as he curls his fingers inside of you, nailing your g-spot with ease.

"I don't know if you deserve all of that," he responds, and you whimper as you lift your head to look at him. "If I recall, you've been nothing but a tease, no?" You shake your head immediately as you try to move your hips again but failing, his grip still strong on your hip.

"Please, Daddy, I'll be a good girl, just please, I need you so bad." You're so desperate, and that gives Mattsun a thrill; seeing someone who usually knows just what to say to him, reduced to nothing but a begging mess on top of him.

"Well, since you're begging so nicely," he approves, removing his fingers, and you lift your hips up eagerly as you look down, seeing that he's fully hard again, the tip leaking precum. He guides his shaft into you, and you let your head fall back as you feel him stretching you open the best way possible. He groans as he feels your walls tightening around him, and you look down to see that he's still not all the way in, your legs starting to burn from the position you're in.

"Come on, baby, just a little bit more for me. Can you do that for Daddy?" he purrs, soothingly caressing your thighs, and you rest your head against his as you watch the last of him disappear inside of you. "Holy shit, you feel so good. Goddamn, baby," he sighs out, letting you adjust. "I'm gonna move, okay?"

You nod quickly, and you brace yourself as you feel him lift you up before slamming you back down, making you cry out, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside of you. He kisses you roughly, swallowing all of the noises you make as he continues to ram himself inside of you. You pull away as you feel the knot in your stomach starting to tighten.

"I'm close, ah, please don't stop," you cry out, and you feel his fingers digging into your hips, you're sure that there's going to be bruising. "Right there, please, Daddy, right there."

"I got you, baby girl, I got you." His finger finds its way to your clit, rubbing harsh, fast circles, and your orgasm snaps, making your arch your back and scream his name. The sight of your coming undone in front of him and the way your clenching around him, makes his orgasm crash into him right after you. "Fuck!" He fucks you through both of your highs, stopping when you whine at the sensitivity.

You lean forward, body going limp as you catch your breath, both of your bodies covered in a layer of sweat. "You know I'm not done with you yet," he tells you, and you don't get a moment to respond before he's lifting you off of him, and you land on your stomach with a soft thud. He brings your hips up, your back arching instinctively, and he groans at the sight of you.

He prods a finger at your hole, and you whine, trying to move away from his touch, but his grip on you makes it useless. He runs his hands over your ass, squeezing the globes in each hand. "This ass has been teasing me ever since you got here." He spreads your cheeks, getting a good look at your puffy, swollen hole.

"I know it has, it was fun to see you flustered," you respond, your words muffled by the couch, but still clear to Mattsun, and he smiles mischievously as he lifts a hand up, smacking your ass, and he watches it jiggle, the sight mesmerizing as you mewl at the sudden pain.

"That's for bending over in front of me." He smacks the other cheek. "That's for grinding on me." Another smack. "That's for the ice cream." You can feel the heat coming off your ass when he smacks it for a fourth time. "That's for the syrup." You can tell that he's loving this, but you can't say that you aren't, you just hope he doesn't see that. He does it again, and you hiss at the pain, but the pleasure wins out. "That's for walking around here practically naked."

He massages the heated mounds of flesh, and you know he's found you out when you feel him spread them followed by a cocky laugh. "You liked that a lot, huh?" He toys at your hole again, watching your juices gush out, and you wiggle your hips a little. He sticks his fingers in, pulling it out with his fingers covered in your slick, and he groans when he puts them in his mouth. "Fuck, you taste good."

"Are you gonna fuck me or what?" you snap, and you hear him chuckle as he runs his the head of his length across your folds to your hole.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your Daddy? I thought you were gonna be a good girl?" he taunts as he teases your hole, and you exhale forcefully as you give in.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. Please fuck me," you say, and he smiles as you feel him start to push into your hole.

"You're gonna be a good girl? No more being a brat?" he asks, and if you could, you would stomp your foot because he's dragging this out.

"I promise, Daddy. I'll be good." Liking the sound of your answer, he lines himself up, hands resting on your hips, and you scream when he rams into you, your body still sensitive from the first earth-shattering orgasm you had. He doesn't give you time to recuperate as he rears back, slamming into you again, keeping a relentless pace that hits your spot with accuracy.

Mattsun watches your ass shake with the impact, and you both can hear his balls slapping against you as you feel your orgasm approaching quickly. He pulls you up by your hair, pulling your back flush against his, keeping his persistent pace. You share a sloppy kiss as his hands come up to play with your nipples, and you whimper into his mouth, and he groans when you clench around him.

"You gonna cum? Huh?" he sucks on your tongue as he brings a hand down to your stomach, and he brings your hand up to your stomach, and you can feel the bulge which makes you release a broken moan. "Who's making you feel this good?"

"Y-You are, Daddy," you barely manage to answer, and he slides his hand down until he's pressing onto your clit, making the knot in your stomach come closer to snapping.

"You wanna come on Daddy's cock? Huh?" he asks, and you nod easily, your hands finding their way into his hair. "Then do it," he spits. "Cum on Daddy's cock like the filthy slut you are." He gives a firm push on your clit, and that coil snaps hard, your eyes screwing as you scream out his name, your back arching as your hands clamp down on his hair.

He keeps bucking into you, your pussy almost stopping him from moving from how hard you're clamping down on him. "Shit, fuck," he swears, his thrusts losing rhythm and getting sloppy. The last time you clamp down on him, makes him see stars as he cums hard, painting your walls white before you both collapse on the couch, heaving breaths coming from the both of you.

He wraps his arms around you as he turns you both over, keeping himself still sheathed inside of you. "Holy shit. That was, oh, my God," Mattsun comments, and you laugh tiredly as you smile, your eyes starting to close.

You're about to drift off when you hear the door slam. "What the fuck?!" You and Mattsun both freeze, your gaze slowly drifting to the door to see a very confused and pissed Makki standing at the door. Mattsun quickly grabs the blanket draped over the back of the couch, putting it over the two of you.

"It's, uh, it's not what it looks like," you try, and Makki just blinks at you.

"Man, I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm really, really not," Mattsun speaks up, and you cover your smile with your hand as you hold back your laugh.

"Love you, too--" Your words are cut off by Makki leaving and slamming the door behind him. You and Mattsun both laugh for a bit before you finally quiet down. "He's so going to kick me out," you say, and you hear Mattsun chuckle against your neck.

"Well, if he does, there's always my place."

BONUS:

Mattsun rubs your shoulders as you lean back against him, the warm water soothing the ache in your muscles, mostly your legs and backside. He had brought you water and a tray of fruit before getting in the tub behind you, fatigue catching up to you as you relax against him. "I was serious about the chance of Hiro kicking me out," you joke quietly as you cuddle further into his wide frame.

He laughs softly as he runs a finger up and down your arm. "And I was serious about you staying at my place. You're not getting away that easily." He looks down at you, and you smile widely as you lean up to kiss him, him meeting you halfway. "Makki might not talk to me for a while though," he speaks up after he separates his lips from you, and you snort as you snuggle back into his chest.

"Ah, he'll be fine."

A/N: Bro the whole numbers thing was so hard for me to come up with lmao, but I think y’all can see how much I love this man, and how much I want him TO ROCK MY SHIT, but that’ll never happen sadly, but like I feel like he would be the best at aftercare in my opinion

#matsukawa x reader #issei matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x black!reader #matsukawa x fem!reader #issei matsukawa #matsukawa issei #matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #aoba johsai #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#hq #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #hq smut

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 6)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Special Grade

Next Chapter: Bird of Flame

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

We are finally past the introductions and getting into the bulk of the story🥰💕 excited for this to unravel.

Chapter 6: Speed of Sound

You had a physical and cursed energy examination along with the second years the next day. Much like when you had your height and weight measured at the clinic. But this time, it was your power, speed, stamina, defense level, and flexibility with and without your cursed technique that they were measuring.

“Ugh, it’s so windy out today.” Mai complained. The sun was really bright as the four of you first years stood there.

“Y/n.” All of you turned to look at the source of the voice. You smiled brightly upon hearing him. “It has been a while.”

“Noritoshi senpaii~” you skipped your way towards him with a huge smile on your face. “How have you been?”

Noritoshi was always busy, with clan affairs, missions (now that he got recommended for grade 1 and is enroute to a semi-grade 1) and studies that you only had a short time to say hi whenever you passed by the other in the hallways. But he always secretly looked forward to seeing you.

He nodded his greeting to the other first years before turning to smile down at you as you came up to him. “Not too bad. Hope you’ve adjusted well to campus life?” he murmured, eyes softening.

“I’m okay, don't worry about me. Shared class today, this is my first time. I wonder how it will go?” You excitedly said.

“The usual, you might find it boring. Ah, and I’ve heard that you were given the title Special Grade. Congratulations.” He said.

“Is that something to be celebrated?” you asked while tilting your head to the side. “Thank you though.”

He mimicked you, tilting his head in the same direction and leaning forward so that your eyes were both still in line with each other’s, “It’s proof that you’re strong and that’s also a good thing.”

You hummed in thought. “I don’t really care about rankings to be honest. I just need to be strong enough to protect the ones I love.”

Noritoshi’s eyes slightly widened at that. He was about to speak when he was rudely interrupted.

“TSUCHI CHAN! You owe me a fight.” Todo senpai boomed with Momo sighing tiredly beside him. You jumped about 4 feet into the air at the sound and Noritoshi protectively held a hand in front of you again. “That’s enough Todo. It’s still early in the morning.”

“A fight, or else I will reveal who your ideal type is to everyone here.” He grinned.

Oh no he didn’t. The winds picked up around you as your cursed energy flared dangerously. Everyone except Noritoshi took a step back from you.

You looked up at him with the coldest eyes you have, “You promised you wouldn’t senpai. But I am not backing down from a fight. Don’t cry too badly when I bury you 6 feet underground.”

“There it is! Her dark side.” Miwa cried out. “You’re gonna die senpai.” But Todou just laughed. “I knew you were interesting the moment we met Tsuchi chan. It’s settled. A fight later after class.”

“Todo’s gonna die later. I look forward to seeing it.” Mai yawned nonchalantly as Mechamaru just nodded. Momo just laughed as she settled in beside Mai.

Soon Utahime called you all to attention and you went on with the activities. You were competing with Todo for almost every measurement (with the use of cursed energy of course. You were not so strong without it).

You just laughed at yourself as you found out you had the weakest physical punching power among the first years. Yep, you rely too much on your cursed energy to back you up.

You had the highest score though when you used your cursed energy. You warped the space around your hand in a spiral motion, the wind picking up around your fist, before you propelled yourself to punch the target. BAANG! It was pushed a number of meters back further than Todo’s target.

Todo just clapped. “Well done.” And the entire time, Noritoshi was closely monitoring you, staying by your side and asking questions about your technique.

At that, you tugged on his sleeve and he smiled and bent down for you. You told him quietly that you would tell him more about it later when you’re alone. His eyebrows raised, but his smile widened, “Thank you for that. I don’t mind telling you about mine too.”

The others were just silently watching you both out of the corner of their eyes.

“Mai chan, wanna bet as to when those two will get together?” Momo whispered. Everyone else except the two of you heard her.

“Depends on what you wanna bet on. But I’m willing to bet they’ll get together in the next maybe 4 months or so.” she smirked.

“3 months” Miwa piped up quietly.

“Maybe 2 months lol.” Mechamaru said.

“No. They might take… a few weeks. 3?” Todo said seriously.

Utahime cleared her throat out loud gathering all of your attention. “Last activity. Running laps. This track field is 400 meters long as you all know. Finish 1 lap. First without then with your cursed technique. Nishimiya and Tsuchimikado flying is permitted.”

You perked up at that and clapped your hands excitedly. Then stopped and thought about it remembering your father’s words:

“ ‘You don’t have to max out your abilities. We keep our clan’s abilities as much of a secret as possible to prevent any information leakage that may be used against us. Remember to use your technique wisely. You’re the strongest in our clan, sweetheart.’ You nodded, ‘Okay papa.’ ”

So God speed mode of a Mach 4 is out of the picture. Mach speed 3… maybe out. ‘No I can limit it to just under the speed of sound.’ you thought determinedly.

You zoned out the next hour until it was time to run with your cursed technique. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Noritoshi put a hand on your back to support you.

You quickly shook your head “I’m fine, no worries.” He didn’t look like he believed you but let you go ahead.

“Tsuchimikado. It says here on your report that you can move at mach speeds.” Utahime spoke. FUCK. Oh well. You turned to her with the stiffest smile on your face as she realized you didn’t want the information disclosed.

You took your starting position, still determined to keep it under half the speed of sound. “Ready… go!” You whipped around the entire trackfield in just under 3 seconds.

“Tsuchimikado. 2.4 seconds.” You nodded and jogged back beside Miwa who gave you a high five. “That was sooo cool, you need to let me fly with you next time.” She excitedly said.

You laughed. “I’m not the best at holding people with me when I move at high speeds. But slow flying is fine.”

“Why don’t you go faster?” Todo asked. Everyone quieted down as you turned to him. “I have a feeling you've been limiting your output. You’ve obviously been holding back this entire time, are you not taking it seriously? We are here to challenge ourselves, there is no need to hold back.”

Your eye and finger twitched. “That’s not it.” This man was amazing at pushing your buttons. But you sighed as there was no reason to hide it anymore. “Utahime sensei can I-”

“Go ahead. When you’re ready.”

You took your starting position again. You could push Mach 5 if you wanted to, though just above Mach 1 should be enough.

But you can feel Todo just silently egging you on from the sidelines. And it honestly worked. “Start!”

There was a loud BANG! You were back in the starting line in less than a second. The only proof of your movement was the smoke and dust rising above the tracks.

“I am so sorry, but I didn’t catch that. I physically can’t. That was less than a second. Your speed please?” Utahime called out. “Mach 2.”

You stepped right up to Todo with a challenging glint. “Prepare yourself for later.” He just huffed out a proud smile, then you stood aside with Miwa and Noritoshi.

“Was that, just now a sonic boom?” asked Noritoshi. “No it was my ringtone.” you deadpanned. The others choked a laugh out at that.

He turned to you with a pout, but you just bumped his hip with yours and laughed “It’s called sarcasm Noritoshi senpai~” He quietly chuckled along, which he was surprised at how easy it was to do so whenever he was with you.

You all finished up. Momo was also pretty fast, going at 10 seconds around the track. Noritoshi senpai blew you out of the water to be honest. His record was 35 seconds on foot. How. That was over the world record for men’s running.

You noticed a red marking forming over his eye and remembered seeing it for a bit when it came to the strength measurement test earlier. He was just a bit behind you, Mechamaru and Todo in terms of power.

And Mechamaru and Todo were largely… disproportionate to him, being way bigger and bulkier. But he could somehow manage.

“Are any of you going to spar after this? If so I will be supervising.” Utahime sensei called.

“We will.” Todo senpai motioned between the two of you. Noritoshi surprisingly spoke up too, “I also wanna have a go against y/n if that’s fine with you.” He turned to you with a concerned look. You just smiled, “Of course it’s fine Noritoshi senpai!”

“Okay, try not to break anything, limit the damage here on campus please. I will be calling a close if it gets too bad.” Utahime warned.

“There's no need for that.” You smiled to yourself.

Author's Rambles: Mach Speed (AKA Supersonic speed) is described as a speed greater than the speed of sound. Mach X means that the speed is X times greater than the speed of sound. A Mach 5 would be categorised as Hypersonic speed^^. O/C uses her Psychokinesis to move her forward as fast as she can.

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

Text

a fine line, part two

a/n: here she is, our promised part two of afl!!! honestly i love writing this series and it has almost all my fav things in one fic, so yup. anyways, again, thank you for reading/sharing/liking my work !! luv u all, x -ali

wc: 5.8k !!!

The tension in the room was palpable.

And although no one knew you two were working together by verbal confirmation, it was clear from the way you were both reacting.

Bucky was rarely this quiet, so it was obvious what was going on.

Also the fact that you seemed frozen in place.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” Wanda’s soft voice filtered in next to you.

You nodded, trying to break away from James’ gaze.

“Mhm, who’re you working with?” You ask, moving away from the topic at hand.

“Oh, you know Professor Vision? He teaches Comp Sci.” Wanda is now visibly blushing, making you curious.

“Ooh, does Wanda have a crush?” Natasha chimes in as she sidles up next to you two. “I got Banner. How about you, Y/N?”

“I uhh, I got... Barnes.” You mumble under your breath.

“Who? I didn’t catch what you said there.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I... I got Dr. Barnes.” You said, not even daring to look up at your friends.

“...Oh. Well, that should be... interesting...” Wanda comments.

“...Yeah. It’ll probably be fine!” Natasha tries to comfort you, but there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach that almost makes you feel sick.

“He said there was no way to change it... right?” You ask feebly, trying to hold out hope.

“No... and I wouldn’t want to go head to head with Fury.” Wanda frowns.

“Great.” You conclude, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I can do this. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” You tell the girls, gathering your things and filing out of the office as people began to leave.

Wanda and Natasha were left watching your retreating form, staring at each other.

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the end of next week.” Natasha says, earning a shove in her arm from Wanda.

Bucky watched you leave the office, and the gears were most definitely turning in his head.

You spent the rest of the week keeping mostly to yourself, trying to mentally prepare for what you’d have to face next week.

In the email sent out by Fury, he explained that you and your partner should have a lesson outlined prior to Monday so you could get right into teaching. He also explained that you would have to share all of your classes, and somehow correlate the two subjects that each professor taught.

English and History, seems easy, right?

Wrong.

Every idea you’ve emailed James has been shot down, and your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t like being unprepared, and the week would be coming to a close soon.

So naturally, you did what anyone else would do, and knocked on James’ office door until he answered.

“I’m comin’ jeez, would ya hold on?” You hear his voice, muffled by the door, until he swings it open, coming face to face with you. “What do you need, Y/L/N?”

“Oh, lovely to see you too, Dr. Barnes. I just wanted to know if you were actually interested in making our lesson plan. If we’re going to be spending the next few weeks together, we might as well have a plan. And I thought your input might be better, since you’re clearly not a fan of what I’ve shown you so far.” You rambled, moving to stand in the middle of his office, laptop in hand.

“You know, maybe if you sent anything good, I would’ve worked with ya on it. But I just don’t think your style of teaching fits me. It’s too... too intimate. You’re too far up your students’ asses. You get too close, too personal with them.” James explains to you.

You can only scoff at this.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, James, but my students and I have great relationships. If my students don’t like me, or what I teach, they’ll be more inclined to hand in subpar work. But if I make my expectations clear from the start, they’ll know what they have to do to earn an A in my class. That’s why my first two semesters here have been averaging with A’s all across the board.” You explain as simply as you can, because you felt like James was ridiculing you and the way you teach. You worked hard to get where you are today, and you know that’s why your students love coming to class.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds, trying to process the information you dropped on him.

“So... your students... like you?” He asks, tentatively, almost.

“...Yes? I know you don’t like me, so it might hard to believe that others do, but I don’t think I’m that unappealing.” You scoff, looking at the floor to avoid Bucky’s eyes. “Anyways, do you have any ideas?”

Bucky’s chest tightened with guilt. After the incident at the bar, he was trying to not be as rude to you. He was trying to be more humane, in Steve’s words.

“I... Maybe we can take a look at some of the stuff you sent before. Maybe if you explain it to me face-to-face I’ll understand it better.” Bucky says, and you nod. “Take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while.”

As a few hours passed, you and James actually started a pretty solid outline for lessons. You started working on your first lesson, which would be the origins of literature. You could both talk about it, and you could both bring different aspects to the table.

“On average, how many kids do you have in your classes, Y/N?” James asks you, and your head snaps up at the mention of your first name. You had a moment where you imagine him calling you that way more often, making your throat run dry.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, “my biggest class is about thirty students, maximum.” You tell him.

“Really? My smallest is forty...” He tells you, scratching his chin. “Also very male dominated, I’ve noticed.”

You freeze, trying to process this. It’s only ten more kids... you’ll be fine, right?

“You alright, there, Y/L/N?” James chuckles, to which you let out a weak one. You weren’t used to large crowds, they made you anxious, nervous, like you were losing your footing.

“I-I’m fine. Yeah, all good, let’s get back to work.” You tell him, focusing back on your lesson plan.

“It’s uh, getting a bit late. Thinking we should head home soon.” James looks at you a bit longer, trying to gauge your mood.

“Uh- oh, what time is it?” You ask, squinting and cursing yourself for leaving your glasses in your office.

“It’s almost 7:30...” He tells you.

“Oh, I have to go! Lucy, she’s been all alone, I have to feed her!” In a panic, you begin gathering your belongings.

“Lu- Who’s Lucy?” James asks in clear confusion at your sudden panic.

“My cat! Oh, poor baby, she’s probably wondering where I’ve been...” You trail off, making sure you’ve gathered everything you need.

“W-wait, can I get your number?” James asks, and you both freeze.

“M-my number?” You ask, not bothering to hide your shock.

“Well, we’re gonna need to discuss the lesson plan somehow...” He tells you.

“Oh... well, here...” You pull off a post-it note from the pad on his desk and quickly scribble down your number, handing it to him. “I’m not usually on my phone too much, so if I don’t answer within a few hours, try shooting me an email.” You explain, making your way out the door.

“Have a good night, James.” He hears you say quietly before you turn away from the doorframe, and he hears the resonating shutting of your office door not even five minutes later.

Bucky sits in his chair, not having moved an inch from when you left. He stares at the blue post-it with your number scribbled on it.

He picked it up, inspecting it further.

Your handwriting was neat, but flourishing and borderline cursive because of how quickly you wrote.

Bucky pulls out his phone and inputs the number, saving your contact.

Y/N Y/L/N

He then types out a message:

Just wanted to text you so I wouldn’t lose your number. Hope Lucy is okay.

And he hits send, deciding to pack up his things, trying to understand why he chose to include your cat in his message.

And on your end when you check your phone after parking in your apartment building’s parking, you see a message from an unknown number. You choose to not answer until you’ve made it into your apartment and feed Lucy.

You open your messages, staring at it. Something in your chest fluttered, but you pass it off as your hunger, waiting for your dinner to warm up in the oven.

Hi James. Lucy is fine, thanks for worrying. Have a good night.

You send it off, saving his contact but choosing to not look at your phone until after you’ve finished everything that you needed to do.

After finishing some grading, doing the dishes, and adding to the lesson plan, you decide to settle into bed with a book. You check your phone while brushing your teeth.

James Barnes: Good to hear. Do you think we could work on the lesson plan over lunch tomorrow? Just so we can get ahead of the game.

Y/N Y/L/N: Sounds good. Are we still going to also meet up after classes?

It takes a few minutes before your phone dings again.

James Barnes: Yep. Do you want to just come by my place after? Kind of getting stir-crazy in my office. We could also order food.

You stare at your phone. Are you going crazy? Why is he being so... kind?

Before you could even respond, another ping pulls you back out of your thoughts.

James Barnes: You could also bring Lucy with you, if you don’t want to leave her alone at home for too long.

Okay, now you were sure you were going insane. He was being way too nice. Where was this attitude a year ago, when you’d first met him?

But then again, it wouldn’t hurt, right? You were trying to get out of your comfort zone...

Y/N Y/L/N: Sure, that’s good. Are you sure it would be okay if I brought Lucy? I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal space.

His reply was almost instant.

James Barnes: No, I don’t mind at all. Alpine would love the company.

Before you could even wonder who Alpine was, you remember your previous conversation with Steve once.

‘Bucky also has a cat...’

Y/N Y/L/N: Okay, then I’ll be there. You also have a cat?

James Barnes: Oh, yeah. He’s the sweetest. *1 Attachment.*

Opening the image, you see a fluffy, stark white cat. He had big eyes that anyone would swoon over. You look at the foot of your bed where Lucy is curled up into a ball, fast asleep. You carefully snap a picture, smiling at her.

Y/N Y/L/N: I’ll admit, he’s cute. But can he compete with her? *1 Attachment*

You smile, seeing the typing bubble, waiting for him to respond.

James Barnes: Doll, no one can compete with Al. But I can’t deny, Lucy’s a gem.

Reading over the message at least seven times, your eyes keep lingering over the first word. Doll. It was in a loop in your head, the only thought you were having was that one word.

Why did he call me that? Is he flirting with me? No... he doesn’t even like me! But then why would he be talking to me right now? And why would he send me a picture of his cat...

And now your hands were working faster than your brain, typing out a quick response with your stomach doing backflips.

Y/N Y/L/N: Alright, whatever you say, Bucky. I’m heading to bed, good night.

And you don’t wait for a response before shutting off your phone and plugging it in, putting it on do not disturb and abandoning it on your nightstand, flipping open your book. You were trying to clear your thoughts but miserably failing.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky responded with a wide smile at the sight of you using his nickname.

James Barnes: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

That night, Bucky fell asleep with Alpine on the pillow next to him, but a wide smile on his face and his stomach full of butterflies.

Little did he know, so were you.

The next day, you woke up feeling like a brand new woman. You got a decent amount of sleep. You got out of bed and made coffee before you left the house. You arrived to school way earlier than usual.

To be honest, you didn’t know what was going on.

James was being nice. To you. Why the sudden change of heart? Or maybe he was going back to acting like an asshole when he sees you in person. You didn’t really know what to expect.

Honestly, what you expected the least was for a knock to be heard on your door, 15 minutes before your first class of the day.

“Come in!” You say, expecting a student or maybe Natasha or Wanda.

But the door swings open, and there’s James. He’s standing there with two paper bags, undoubtedly from the bakery down the street.

“Hi.” He says. Not offering anything. No explanation, no emotion. No indication of our conversation last night.

“Hi. Did you need something?” You ask, and for once, it wasn’t in a dismissive or cold tone.

“Uh, no. Just wondering if you’ve eaten anything yet today?” James asks, holding up the bags in his hand.

“Uhm... no...” You tell him, not understanding why he was asking.

“Oh, well I have an extra croissant, if you’d like.” He holds up the bags once again.

“Sure, you can sit in here to eat if you’d like...” You offer, not sure of the water you were treading in.

“Oh, thanks.” He sits down and you both pull out the pastries and start eating. “So, how’s Lucy today?” James asks, a slight smirk on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not.

“Uh, she-she’s good. Clingy as usual. How’s Alpine?” You return the question.

“Same for him, also clings to me like a koala when I leave, I always feel bad, but I don’t really have a choice.” You both giggle at the remark, nodding in agreement.

“I understand. Lucy’s still a kitten too, so she’s been getting attached a lot. But I think I need her just as bad as she needs me.” You tell him, and you don’t know why.

“Oh... no boyfriend?” James asks, and now you really can’t tell if he’s pulling your leg.

“Oh-” You giggle, covering your mouth. “That’s funny. No, no boyfriend.” You continue to laugh until you fall back into silence, and James is just watching you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, genuinely perplexed at your reaction.

“James, I don’t think either of us are idiots. I don’t think I come off as girlfriend material to most guys.” You laugh again.

It became quiet, and you look back to your computer, ready to end this awkward conversation. You knew you had your insecurities, but it had always been hard for you to put yourself out there. Especially for guys. Your anxiety and introverted nature really put a pause on your already non-existent dating life.

Besides, you’ve always been alone. And you didn’t think that would be changing any time soon.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head out. I have a class to prepare for. See you tonight?” James asks, getting up from his seat across from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you then. Could you text me your address and what time I should be there?” You ask, also gathering your lecture notes and laptop.

“Sure thing, Y/N. Bye.” He waves, leaving. As soon as he steps out, you hear the clicking of heels against the laminate flooring.

“Why was Bucky in here?” Natasha’s gravelly voice asks, looking confused as ever.

“He just brought me a croissant, we were talking about our lesson plan for next week.” You explain to her. “Walk with me to my lecture?” You ask, pointing out the door.

“Sure,” she agrees, waiting for you to lock the door, “so, have things been... civil between you two?” Natasha asks tentatively.

“Actually, yes. He’s not all that bad. I’m going to his place after classes to work on the lesson plan, he asked me yesterday to even bring Lucy over so she could meet Alpine.” You tell her.

“Oh- wow, really? He’s being so... nice to you...” She responds.

“I-I know... I don’t understand why... He made it clear he doesn’t really enjoy my company.” You respond.

“Yeah... Well, this is new. I hope he keeps up with it.” She pats you on the shoulder as you reach the lecture hall.

“Yeah, me too.” You say, turning to her before going in.

“Hey, can I stop by your office for something at lunch?”

“Sure, see you then!” You tell her, setting up for your class.

Lunch time comes around, and Natasha was already waiting for you when you finished your class by lunchtime. You remembered James also asking to come by to eat with you and work, so you tried to make it quick with Natasha.

“So, you and Bruce already finished your lesson plans?” You ask, looking for a booklet she needed.

“Yeah, he’s fun to work with. Kinda a nerd, but he knows his shit.” She says, smiling and leaning against your desk. “Any reason you’re in a rush?” She asks, catching you off guard.

“Oh, uh, James is coming to eat here so we can get ahead on the lesson.” You tell her, looking back through your drawer.

“That’s... interesting.” Natasha’s brows were drawn together. “You two seem to have a lot of time allotted together.”

“Well, we have only a little of our lessons done, and we really don’t want to show up unprepared. You know how much I hate that.” You tell her, finally finding what she needed.

Outside your office, James was just about to walk in when he heard your voices.

“Yeah... Just wondering, did he ever... apologize for what he said that one night?” Nat asks.

“Uhm, n-no. He’s been really kind to be as of late, so I’m assuming we’re turning a new leaf... But he makes me... nervous sometimes. Just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even look at my lesson plan ideas. He looked like he would rather violently bash his skull in than work with me. I’m just- I’m confused. What made him change his mind?” You think out loud, really wondering if James’ behavior was genuine.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I think you should give him a chance. Don’t be so weary. If he’s being nice, don’t question it. I don’t know why he was like that with you from the beginning, but you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over the fact that he’s actually treating you with respect.” Natasha puts her hand over yours, meeting your gaze.

“Y-Yeah. I know. I know I deserve respect, but it’s been hard lately. Ever since my family stopped talking to me, I feel like a failure. They don’t understand that I deserve that respect either. They think teaching is a shit job, they think I won’t get anywhere in life with it. I’m just sick and tired of them acting like I didn’t work hard to get where I am today.”

I talked to my brother the other day, and he said the same thing they’ve been saying since I started my PhD. ‘You’re not gonna get anywhere with this, you should get a boyfriend, we want grandkids.’ Like, okay! I get it! But where the hell am I supposed to find a guy when the cute one doesn’t even like me!? And my last boyfriend was in my undergrad. I feel a like teenager. I have literally no romantic life.” You huff out, absolutely tired of this.

“I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. You deserve a family that’s supportive of you and your passions. I hope Wanda and Carol and I have maybe helped you, kind of like a work family, y’know?” She holds your hand tighter. “We’ll always be here for you.”

You smile, walking around your desk to hug her.

“Thank you, Nat. I appreciate you all so much. I don’t think you’ll ever really know.” You hug her tightly before letting go. “James should be here any minute now, but we’ll talk more after class?”

“You betcha, but don’t think I forgot what you said... Maybe he does like you.” She says, and your face turns beet red.

“Natasha, no. I think he’s made it very clear he’s not into me. Like, at all. I’m surprised we’re even working together. I didn’t think he would cooperate.” You laugh. “Okay, seriously, you gotta go. I don’t want him to walk in on us talking about him.”

“Okay, okay, talk later. Bye, Y/N.” She says, making her way out, and Bucky pushes himself against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t see him.

“Don’t forget what we talked about, yeah?” She says to him, not even looking back. Natasha only stops when she doesn’t hear his response, turning around. “Listen to me, Bucky. We may be friends, but so are Y/N and I. I don’t know if it was me or Steve who finally knocked some sense into the dumb head of yours, but if she comes to me again, crying, telling me she can’t take it from you anymore, I promise; you’ll be off this faculty faster than you can say ‘tenure.’ Now, am I understood, Barnes?” Natasha concludes, completely in Bucky’s personal space.

“I- yes. I understand.” He gulps, looking down at his hands. “I-I’ve been trying. To be nice to her. I know what I did before was wrong, but I’m trying, okay? Steve and I had a... a long talk.”

“Yeah, whatever. This better not just be a one-time-thing. From here on out, I want no complaints from her. She’s been through enough shit, and she doesn’t need any more from you. I have somewhere to be, and so do you.” Natasha says, parting ways and letting Bucky release a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

He composes himself one last time, and walks into your office.

“Hi, James.” You give him a soft smile, “Take a seat, we’ve got work to do.”

When your last lecture finished, you made your way home to get what you needed to head to James’ apartment. He’d texted you the address and told you you could come by any time after 6:30.

You were thinking back on your lunch break with him. He was quiet, almost nervous to be sitting in front of you, and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why.

It was uncharacteristic of him to be so demure, and you wonder why he was suddenly so shy. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a remark, or take a jab at you. But now, he was quiet as a mouse.

It was concerning, to say the least.

So, on your way to his apartment, which was a solid 15 minutes drive, you call Natasha for advice.

“Hey. Can I talk to you about something?” You ask while you drive.

“Yeah, everything alright?” Natasha’s voice filters through your car’s speakers.

“Oh, I’m fine, but did something happen with James? He was acting so... odd today... He was so quiet, so nice. His behavior has been so different lately.” Your brows were furrowed, genuinely trying to crack this puzzle.

“Uh... well, isn’t it a good thing?” She asks.

“I mean, yes, but did someone say something to him?” You ask, puzzled.

“Uh, no...” lie, “maybe he’s just turning over a new leaf, Y/N. I think you should stop worrying yourself over it so much. And if you really want answers, just confront him about it.” Natasha concludes.

“...Okay. You’re right. I think I’m just reading too much into this. I need to go, I’m almost there. Thanks, Nat.” You tell her.

“Bye, Y/N. Good luck.” And the line goes dead.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now, Luce.” You look over at her carrier in the seat next to yours, where she’s curled up into a ball inside.

Once you park and text James to let him know you’re on your way up, you sling your laptop bag over your shoulder and grab Lucy’s carrier.

As you make your way inside, you stop at the concierge desk, where an older man with grey hair and glasses greets you. His name tag reads Stan.

“Hi, I’m here to see James Barnes?” You tell him, looking at the grandiosity of the lobby.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks, and you nod. “He said he was expecting you. Not that I don’t trust you, but I just need a form of ID before I can let you up.” You nod again, handing over you driver’s license.

He hands it back, giving an approving nod.

“Elevators are to the right, he’s in 12B.” Stan tells him, and you give him appreciative ‘thank you’ before you scurry to the elevator.

When you knock on his door, it takes a second for him to open it, a faint ‘Al, one second!’ resonating through the door, making you snort out a laugh.

“Hey, sorry about that. Come in,” Bucky finally appears, swinging his door wide open.

You walk in, setting down Lucy and taking your shoes off.

“So, is Alpine friendly with other cats?” You ask, weary of unzipping the carrier.

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” He asks, but stops when he sees your expression fall.

“S-Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything, It’s just- Lucy’s a bit shy, but she typically likes other cats.” You say, looking down at her.

“I-I’m sorry- that was rude. I wasn’t trying to sound like an ass, I swear. Alpine’s friendly with other cats, but he needs a little time to warm up to other people. Don’t take it personally if he isn’t too fond of you at first.” He laughs, directing you to his couch where Alpine was perched.

“Oh, hi baby!” You coo, holding out your hand to Alpine. He tentatively inspects you with his eyes, first, and then sniffs you. He then, his head buts against your hand, asking for affection.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, shocked at how friendly Alpine was being. He barely even looked at Steve and Sam when they come by. But here he was, purring and shoving himself against you.

“Well, I think Lucy won’t have a problem with him at all.” You smile, bringing the carrier over to the end of the couch and unzipping it, letting Lucy move at her own pace.

At first, she just wearily looks at Alpine and the unfamiliar setting. She then looks at you, where you encouragingly coo at her, making sure she was comfortable.

Bucky gazes at the whole scene with a soft look, watching as Lucy slowly saunters out of the carrier, sniffing Alpine and the couch. Soon enough, Alpine sniffs back, and they start playing with each other, forgetting their owners completely.

You both laugh at how well they were getting along, and the contrast between the black and white furs making it that much better.

“Well, should we get started?” You ask, finally turning to Bucky with a big smile.

In that moment, his throat goes dry, and all he can think is... She has a beautiful smile.

“James? Everything alright?” You ask, breaking him out of his trance.

“I- Yes! Sorry, got distracted for a minute... Would you prefer Italian or Chinese for dinner?” He asks, shaking his head and trying to change the subject.

“Uhm, I don’t mind, whatever you’d like.” You smile, grabbing your laptop.

“So... Italian, then?” He asks with a light laugh.

“Sure.” You answer. “Where can we sit to work?”

“Oh, the table’s fine, we can eat while we work, too. Let me go order really quick.” He excuses himself after pointing to his dining table, and heading into the kitchen.

When Bucky reaches the kitchen, he takes a second to compose himself. He pinches in between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t know why he was acting like a teenager, he felt himself get flustered around you.

After he pulls himself together, he orders the food and comes back outside, finding you focused on something extremely intently on your screen.

“James, what do you think for something like this for a more interactive activity?” You ask, turning your computer to him, waiting for him to read the plan, biting your lip nervously.

“This- this is awesome, doll. This looks really good, the students would love this.” He tells you, reading over it one more time.

“O-Oh, thanks.” You thank him shyly, stomach fluttering while looking down at your lap again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, breaking the silence.

“Oh, the food-” James moves to grab his wallet, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“James, you’ve already been so hospitable, let me get it-” You say, but he shakes off your hand and shakes his head.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I insist,” he responds, beating you to the door and handing the delivery man his card, letting him ring it up quickly.

You huff, sitting back down in your spot with a pout.

“James, you suck,” you huff, visibly annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did. Now, let’s eat. You good with red wine?” He asks, pulling out two wine glasses.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, unpacking the food as he pours some wine.

As he sets down some plates, he sees your expression still pouty, like a child.

“Y/N, stop pouting.” You look so cute. “You can get it next time.” I wish I could kiss you.

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You ask, your face turning red yet again.

“I mean, we’re going to have to make more lesson plans, depending on how long Fury keeps this up.” He laughs, but you freeze at his words.

It’s true, you think to yourself, we’re probably going back to how it was before when this is all over. That’s probably why he’s being nice to me.

“Hey, you alright? Did I say something?” James asks, a concerned look on his face.

“N-No, you’re good. Sorry. Ready to eat?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah... You sure everything’s okay?” He asks again, trying to make sure.

“James, everything is okay, please. Let’s just eat.” You smile, placing a hand over his in reassurement.

Dinner was delicious, and now you and James were sipping on wine while working, occasionally checking on Lucy and Alpine.

“Hey, do you think a group project could work? I usually give some to my students, I have a template I follow, but you could change it to your liking-” James tells you, but you cut him off with your thoughts.

“James, can I ask you a question?” You ask, hovering a hand over his.

“S-Sure. What’s up?” He sounds weary.

“You know, before we started this project, you like... loathed me.” You say. “Why?” Your voice breaks at that last word, barely getting it out of your throat.

“I... I just-” He takes a deep breath and looks down, grabbing your hand, “I thought you were... snobby, stuck up. I thought you came to this school thinking you were better than everyone else, that you were here to one-up us all.”

And before you could cut him to deny it with your shaking head, he continues.

“And I know now that I was wrong. I-I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you, especially at the bar. After you left and Steve took me home, he basically yelled at me and told me how what I thought of you was completely off. I shouldn’t have assumed all those things about you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, one day.” He concludes, holding onto your hand so tightly to convey just how sorry he was.

“I- Oh, James. Y-You know, I never meant to come off that way. I just- I’ve always had trouble making friends and talking to people, and things have been hard recently. I never meant to make you o-or anyone else, for that matter, to feel that way. I’m so sorry.” You say, tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Y/N, doll.” James moves out of his seat, wrapping you in his arms. “I can’t even tell you how much I wish I was more open-minded, more patient. Ever since Steve and Nat have talked to me, I’ve been just-”

“Nat? What has Natasha told you?” You stop him, pulling away.

“She- she just told me to stop. She told me you’ve been going through a lot, and that I wasn’t making it any better for you so-”

“Did she say what? Why would she tell you about my personal life-” You begin to ramble and waving your hands around.

“Doll, no she didn’t-”

“She had no right to say-”

But before you could continue, Bucky cuts you off.

With his lips.

Against yours.

Bucky was kissing you.

Oh my god, he’s kissing me!

You pull away looking at him in utter shock.

“Wh- What did you do that for?”

“I just- You were rambling, but I didn’t know how else to stop you.” James says, a blush creeping up his neck.

“So you kissed me?” You ask incredulously.

“Uh- yes?” He says, more like asks.

“I uh... I have to go.” You say, looking anywhere but his eyes as you gather your items, hunting down Lucy and putting her in her carrier; much to her protest and distaste.

“Y-Y/N, please, don’t go. Let’s just talk!” James pleads, but you’re not listening.

“N-No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you in class next week. Bye, James.” You huff out, running to the nearest stairwell.

A part of you wanted him to run after you, but you needed time to process... whatever that was.

Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or because he wanted to shut you up?

You cut the drive home into half, the first thing you do after getting through your door is calling Natasha.

“Nat, I fucked up...” Your voice was weak through the phone.

And back in Bucky’s apartment, he dialed Steve’s number.

“Steve, I fucked up... real bad.” He meekly provides, his head in his hands.

a/n: oh boy. what’s gonna happen ??? hmmm... let me know down below! hope you guys enjoyed ;)

also, did y’all peep my stan lee cameo? :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #prof!bucky #professor!bucky #prof!bucky x prof!reader #college professor au #enemies to lovers #bucky and alpine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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liliesoftherain · 3 years

Text

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 19 Endeavors Agency

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but here's the next part of the series! I just realized I hit over 2000 followers, and I honestly don't deserve it at all. Thank you guys for your compassion and understanding, and I hope to generate more content you like. I might be willing to do an event, and turn my requests back for a short amount of time, but we'll see.

Masterlist

“Are you all ready for tomorrow? I still don’t know how I feel about you staying at Endeavor’s agency for the week.”

You hold in a sigh, choosing to smile instead--even if he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah dad, I’m all ready to go,” you knew of your dad’s--distaste--for the number two, even if he wouldn’t say it, “and I hope I’ll be able to learn a lot from this--although I know you’re probably the better teacher.”

He hums at your praise, you can hear his amusement over the phone.

“I’ll always have room for you at the office, just say the word.”

“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with Bakugou, dad.”

“I hope to reform that boy, by the looks of him, he has pride sewn into the very fiber of his being.”

“Sounds about right-”

“Plus, he was getting a bit too cozy with my daughter, I have half the mind to question him about it.”

“Dad!” You elongate the word, turning it into a groan at the end as he just chuckles at your misery.

Moving on from the topic, you change the conversation to something lighter--mundane things about school and work before having to hang up the phone. He was unable to come home tonight, meaning you wouldn’t be seeing him until you got back. Unfortunately, you were used to calls instead of in-person goodnights--even if it was a bit lonely sometimes, you pushed on.

After ending the call, you get ready for bed--thoughts of the week ahead making it difficult to fall asleep.

-----

“Everyone has their costumes, right? You can’t wear them out in public unless you’re given permission--and don’t lose them either, understood?”

“Yep, loud and clear!”

“Speak properly Ashido, it’s yes sir. You all need to mind your manners.”

“Yes sir..”

You grin at Mina’s dejected face, only patting her back in comfort once you were dismissed. You wave goodbye to her as she heads to her station, looking back in search of your internship buddy.

After spotting him, you make your way over to his side to see his attention on Iida as he marches off.

“Todoroki?”

He turned to look at you, blinking owlishly as he snapped out of whatever thoughts he had been consumed by.

“Hakamata, hello.”

In some ways, you were looking forward to the internship. Ever since the sports festival, you’ve been able to regard Todoroki in a brand new light. He wasn’t as stuck up as you first took him for, if anything his reactions only made it seem that way.

The boy was just--awkward.

“Shall we get going then?”

He nodded in agreement, and you both leisurely walked towards your train. Sitting side-by-side after baording, suitcases in your laps respectively. The trip there was pretty quiet, and you were glad to say it wasn’t an awkward one. It was different, being so used to rambles from people like Mina and Izuku, or even loud and rowdy conversations with Eijiro or Bakugou. Yet with Todoroki, words weren’t needed to fill the air, it was comforting all on its own.

It didn’t take long to reach Tokyo, arriving at the station quicker than you thought. You both get off, having to walk the rest of the way to the large building. It was bigger than your father’s, and you felt slightly intimidated. Todoroki looked over as your steps faulted, tilting his head in silent communication. You give a tight smile, ushering your nerves down as you make your way inside.

“Hello!” The woman at the front desk beamed, “Endeavor has been waiting for you two, why don’t you go and head up to his office!”

She gave you the quick directions, waving you off as you stepped into the elevator. Todoroki had seemed tense now that he was actually about to see his dad, and you couldn’t blame him. Your last interaction with the man wasn’t the best, if anything you were downright rude.

All within reason, of course.

You arrive on the floor that his office was located on, stepping out of the elevator and having to walk through a room filled to the brim with sidekicks to get to the room. After receiving the okay to enter, you step inside to realize the entire part of the building was his office. The room was huge; marble walls with high ceilings, a crystal chandelier hung above a seating area and all the way towards the far wall, at a large oak desk, was the man who you’d have to put up with for the next week.

You heard a bitter sigh come from your companion, and you give a quick glance of reassurance in his direction. He does the same before you two make your way into the room. If you thought it was intimidating before, the scarce lighting made it even more so--the room relatively dim, save for the rays of the setting sun peeking in through the wall of windows on the right hand side.

“Shoto, I’ve been waiting for you.” A deep voice speaks up as you both stop to stand in front of his desk.

Endeavor is standing as well, smirking down at the both of you before focusing his attention on his son.

“I’m glad you made this decision. You’re finally ready to walk down the path of the mighty.”

“I have no intention of following any path you’ve created. Only I can decide my future.”

The surge of pride you feel as Todoroki stands up for himself falters as a chuckle falls from Endeavor.

“Is that so?” He glances between the both of you, “you both should go get ready then, we’re going out.”

“Where to?” Todoroki answers, looking surprised.

“I’m going to show you both what it means to be a hero.”

-----

The sun has long been set as the three of you patrol the streets of Tokyo, whispers following as you did. It was very different, the energy a complete contrast from what you’ve seen with your dad and his patrols. People called out to him all the time, big grins on their faces’ as they waved enthusiastically. However, the people around here looked intimidated by the large pro hero. In awe yes, but nervous to approach him at the same time. You couldn’t blame them, Endeavors aura was very nerve-wracking.

However, despite the feeling he gave off, things were calm. The peace surrounded everyone and everything around--laughter and smiles was seen all around. It was great; this is how life should be, no one should be fearful.

“Rescue, evacuation, and suppression. There are the three fundamentals required of all heroes. Most agencies are established on a foundation of either “rescue” or “suppression”. However, my agency does not. Remember that. We are grounded in all three of these fundamentals, combined.”

You and Todoroki nod, listening to Endeavor’s speech as he stomps on.

“You have to remain focused--memorize every single detail of your jurisdiction. Don’t let a single irregularity slip by. Be on-site faster than anyone else. Minimize all casualties by keeping all citizens far away as possible.”

He didn’t look back once--his focus never wavering, remaining on the crowds around him.

“These are the basics of the basics, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” You answer.

“Yeah.” Todoroki spoke, as enthusiastic as ever.

“Then keep up.”

In the blink of an eye, Endeavor was gone. You blinked owlishly, sharing a look with Todoroki before you both rushed off after the number two. It was hard to keep up, the hero using his flames to accelerate his speed.

Todoroki was using his ice to help him, almost in the same way, while you used the move you picked up in the sports festival--allowing your light to harden under your feet, to extend and give you a boost. While you would be faster if you allowed your body to transform into light particles, you weren’t very efficient with it, you’d need some more training before you could try to use it in your day-to-day activities.

You finally heard the wailing of police sirens and the screeching of tires.

You were shocked Endeavor had noticed so far away, but you suppose that’s what it means to be the number two hero.

In a less populated area, down a mostly deserted road, there was a large truck being tailed by three different police vehicles, with no sign of stopping. The getaway truck was being reckless, swerving all over without a care of what--or who--it ran over.

Trying to boost your speed to get there quicker, you were left to stop short as the truck suddenly came to a screeching stop. Endeavor had stopped the truck with his own body, acting as an obstacle halting it from moving any further. You watched in awe as the criminals inside were apprehended accordingly, Endeavor having full control of the situation. While you weren’t able to do anything but watch--since you were only interns and didn’t have hero licenses to be able to use your quirks like that in public--you still took in every detail you could, exactly like Endeavor had told you to.

The way there were no casualties, or any injuries of the citizens for that matter, and even though there was damage to the area around him, it was insignificant to what could have been if they continued on for even just another few minutes. In the short amount of time it took for Endeavor to race over and stop the villains, so much had already been done.

‘A real pros power…’

“Let’s go. We aren’t done.”

-----

You awake bright and early the next day, feeling exhausted from how long you stayed out last night. The three of you ended patrolling for the next few hours without any other exciting things to happen. Endeavor tended to mainly ignore you, but he did ask about what your goal was overall--if anything you were shocked that he was speaking to you civilly.

You explained how you wanted to get the experience you needed to be a great hero, and do it on your own accord. How you wanted to use your quirk to the best of your ability and save lives. You weren’t here to play around, you wanted to do something good--you wanted to be useful. He gave you a simple speech of encouragement--if you could call it that--before dropping the subject as he ranted to Todoroki about all the great things he could learn from him.

It was a night to remember, and you did learn something pretty valuable, so you’d have to give him that.

You walk out into the main area--the one you had to walk through yesterday to get to Endeavor’s office--with your hero uniform already on, ready to see what was on the agenda for the day. The room was large, holding plenty of office desks and important equipment, as if Endeavor had his own intelligence force right in the middle of his agency. Seeing as how many cases the number two hero took on--as well as how many cases his plentiful amount of sidekicks took on--it wasn’t a surprise.

Glancing around, you couldn’t find Todoroki, instead coming face-to-face with one of the many sidekicks held in the agency.

“Hey there kiddo, welcome to the Endeavor Hero Agency!” The woman laughs boisterously.

Her copper-green hair flickered around her head, a cocky smirk on her lips, and a wicked gleam in her amber eyes all made you alert. She wasn’t a threat, but her attitude was the exact opposite of Endeavor’s.

Just a bit weird.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” You bow, only to be thrown off guard as she pats--more like slaps--your back repeatedly.

“Oh come on, don’t be so formal! I’m going to end up putting you to work right away, even if you’re going to have to fight for the right to work alongside us!” She cackles loudly, and you sweat drop as she reminds you of a certain pinkett back at school.

“Luminary.”

You push off Burnin and look towards Todoroki as he walks up beside you, also just as ready as you were to start the day.

“Shoto, good morning.”

It felt a little embarrassing at first, to be calling Todoroki by his first name, but you remembered it’s what he had chosen as his hero name. The entirety of the night before, only code names were used, so now it was second nature.

“Shoto-kun! I’d say the same for you, but you’ll probably be stuck with Endevor while miss Luminary here will have to kick it with us,” Burnin tries to slap you on the back again but you quickly dodge, causing her to grin to widen, “since, yanno, Endeavor really only cares about you!”

Todorki scoffs at the notion, even if it was true. He was eyeing Burnin as she continued to try and pester you. It’s odd, seeing you in a different setting outside of school. He noticed how quiet you’ve been, and while that wasn’t a bad thing, you were always pretty upbeat and talkative in school.

You kept up with Bakugou’s rambunctious actions, Midroiya’s rambles, Ashido’s exuberant personality, and even Kirishima’s upbeat attitude. However, ever since you both stepped onto the train to come to the agency, you’ve kept to yourself for the most part. You soaked up all the information you could, even if you were being a little wary of Endeavor.

Todoroki had indeed noticed, and he would be too in your position, shoot, he already was wary of his old man and all the ideas he had running around in his head. However, right now in this moment Todoroki saw the flicker of fire sparking again as you tried to keep the older sidekick from putting you into a headlock. It was good to see you as yourself, you always did know how to light up a room.

“Shoto.” The smile playing on the boy's lips fell as he heard his father.

You quickly detach yourself from Burnin’s hold, straightening up as Endevors approached. His hard gaze barely looked in your direction, focused on his son as always.

“Shoto,” he repeats, “We’ll be having an important mission today.”

Endoavor finally looks at you, the frown on his face stays in place--but it doesn’t get any deeper either.

“As for you Luminary, you shall be shadowing Burnin for the time being.”

“Yes sir!” Burning salutes the pro before shrugging an arm around your shoulder.

Todoroki glances at you from the corner of his eyes, and he sees how your shoulders fall ever-so-slightly. It was practically unnoticable, but he saw it. You were disappointed, the only reason Todoroki convinced you to come was because he knew that working with the man who had the speed and instincts of a number two pro hero was a great opportunity--even if his old man was a scumbag. He had to acknowledge his talents.

“I want Hakamata to come.”

The silence between the two was stifling, the heated glares acting as a silent conversation. You eyed Todoroki bewildered, confused as to why he was questioning Endeavor's decision. Sure, you were annoyed and somewhat disappointed, but you expected this. You were prepared to be treated as second best.

After all, people like them were always good at making people like you feel inferior.

“What?”

“I want Hakamata to be able to attend this mission with us.”

Endeavors eyes shut briefly, before doing the unexpected.

“If that’s what you want. Be ready, the both of you, we’re leaving soon,” he turns to the rest of the members in the room, “We’re taking a work trip to Hosu.”

“Yes sir!”

As Endeavor turns to leave, you smile brightly at Todoroki.

“Thanks Shoto.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” His head faces the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes.

“Let’s hurry then, we have a city to get to!”

“Right.”

-----

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157 notes · View notes

wylanvnneck · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write the angst prompt number 1 with jurdan??🥰

Angst Prompt #1: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

Fandom: TFOTA

Ship: Jurdan

Masterlist | Prompt List

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

High pitched giggles peal through the air and the noise makes the 21 year old Cardan Greenbriar wince. He’d been away from his hometown of Elfhame for 2 years now, having happily left it and his controlling family behind after graduation to go live in his dorm room back at Insmire University with his crazy roommates. Yet here he was, back again for a week-long visit in honour of his old friend Locke’s engagement.

He and Locke had never been all that close to begin with, but he had been his oldest friend, and it did seem like a good idea to come back for a bit and see how much things had changed in the years since he’d be gone, which didn’t seem to be all that much.

Locke was still the same fox-faced wastrel that he had been, except that he was now engaged and the other member of their old gang, Valerian was still as snarky as usual, a perpetual sneer on his face whenever someone attempted to speak to him. Seated at a round outdoors table surrounded by his High School acquaintances, Cardan feels nothing but boredom.

He grips the neck of his wine glass even tighter when he sees the source of the giggling emerge from Locke’s house where his engagement party was being hosted. Taryn Duarte the Bride to Be and her posse of friends strut out into the garden from the inside of the house where they’d been gathered together doing goodness knows what for the past half hour. A glimpse of blue hair catches his eye and he recognises it as belonging to a girl named Nicasia that he used to be friends with back in High School, a million years ago.

Taryn’s six inch heels click against the asphalt of the garden path and the sight of her familiar icy brown eyes and dark hair brings up a volley of almost forgotten feelings within him. Not feelings for the rather cold female before him, but for who she reminded him of. Her twin.

Involuntarily he finds himself scanning the group of women for any sign of Taryn’s sister before coming up short and then chastising himself for looking in the first place. Jude belonged in the past where he had buried her. He takes another sip of the red wine in his hand before shifting his attention back to the conversations happening at his table, a politely unimpressed looking Garrett talked in low tones with his friend Van, both of them engrossed in whatever they were discussing, and a slightly inebriated Valerian was attempting to flirt with the disgusted woman seated next to him.

Resisting the urge to let out a growl he downs the contents of his glass in one go before standing up to re-enter the house and get a refill, needing some kind of distraction.

He’s just finished pouring some more Merlot into his glass from the otherwise empty bar table when a rustling sound travels from somewhere nearby. He glances up at the staircase by the other end of the room, catching sight of a silky white fabric and dark brown hair before whoever it was disappears from view. Stange, he’d thought all of the other guests were outside. Setting his glass down on the table he climbs up the stairs, curiosity getting the better of him.

Having reached the landing he searches for any sign of where the person might have gone, walking a little further down the hallway on the left before seeing the big French windows leading out to the balcony flung open, the cool night air drifting in.

Cautiously, he approaches, his body going on high alert when he notices who it is that’s standing out on the balcony, hands loosely clutching the metal rails and face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her chestnut hair is tied in an intricate braid hanging down her back and she’s wearing a slim fitting black top and flowy white pants which sway gently around her legs and she looks even more gorgeous than she had in their High School days. He takes a moment to catch his breath before slowly trudging forwards to join her.

She turns when she hears footsteps approaching, a slight frown marring her expression before she recognises him and it clears. Her gaze is as disarming as it used to be.

"Shit, man, don't just sneak up on people like that," a corner of her lip quirks.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, "Oops, sorry."

“I didn’t know you were coming.” He catches the questioning lilt in her statement.

“It was a last minute kind of thing, I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming either, until yesterday.”

She nods and he positions himself next to her but at a safe distance, one hand coming to rest carelessly on the balcony rail next to hers.

He watches her let out a soft whoosh of breath, looking down at the garden where people were now dancing to the music that had started playing on the expensive speaker set under the bright fairy lights. There’s laughter and cigarette smoke wafting upwards, but from their little spot up above, everything seemed to be much farther away than it really was.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “So, Taryn and Locke, huh?”

“Yep.” She replies. The look on her face is one he can’t quite decipher.

He clears his throat and speaks in a tight voice. “Are you...upset by that? I know you and Locke used to be close.”

He recalls the rumour that used to fly around during their senior year, people whispering about Jude and Locke having a thing. He also remembers the sharp pain that he’d felt when he’d heard that Locke had asked Jude to be his date to their Senior prom and that she’d accepted. Cardan vaguely remembers asking Nicasia to be his date to that very same prom, but the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks about that night is the haze of jealousy that had clouded his mind when he’d seen Locke twirling a grinning Jude around the dance floor.

“Me and Locke? God no. He was just a friend. Although, I think even that was only because he kept showing up and trying to talk to me in Senior Year for no apparent reason.”

Cardan feels a surprisingly strong sense of relief wash over him at the fact that Jude was never interested in Locke that way, before his eyebrows knit together a moment later. He’d drunkenly confessed his ginormous crush on Jude to Locke at the start of their senior year, and immediately regretted it the next day. It wouldn’t surprise him if Locke had been cozying up to Jude simply to get on his nerves. It definitely seemed like something the manipulative scoundrel would do.

Not that it mattered anymore. Years had passed and he’d probably lost his chance. If he’d ever had the chance in the first place.

“I heard you’ve been off at uni all this time. Insmire, huh?” Her words are light but he’s slightly astonished that she’d been keeping track of where he’d been for the past few years.

“Yeah, it was the break I needed.”

“What are you studying?”

“My dad wanted me to do Business for when I inherit his company, but I’m also doing a course on Classical and Ancient Languages, purely because I wanted to.”

“That’s great, Cardan.” Her sincerity is clear. “I remember how controlling your dad was. It’s great that you’re finally getting to be your own person.”

He’s sure that his astonishment at her words is blatantly obvious because a barely detectable flush travels up her neck and she averts her gaze. Not only had Jude Duarte been keeping track of where he’d been, she’d also noticed his strained relationship with his father all those years ago. A thrill rises up inside of him.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “So what have you been up to these days?” he asks, like he hasn’t been checking her social media pages at least once every few months, unwittingly grinning whenever he came across one of her rare posts with her and her few friends hanging out together outside of her own University in Nightfell.

“Oh, same as you actually, getting a taste of independence at Uni. Doing a course on Criminal Justice.”

“That sounds amazing. Tell me all about it.”

And she does, her eyes lighting up as she talks about a subject that she enjoys studying and half of his attention is taken up by what she’s saying and the other half is just focused on her, on the way the moon illuminates one half of her and how the breeze is playing with a few loose strands of her hair and the way her mouth is moving whilst she speaks. They chat for what feels like ages before the conversation eventually flows to a comfortable halt and they hear the clanging of plates and glasses below as the other guests start on dinner, and he knows they’ll have to leave this place of idyll at some point.

He hates that. That they’re on borrowed time and that they were separated by too many years and very separate lives for their situation to be anything different now. And yet, he needs to tell her, to let her know, even if it can’t change anything.

“You know, back in High School I used to daydream about this. You and I, just talking.” He knows that the tips of his ears are probably flaming red, just like the rest of his head, but he forces himself not to look down and to keep meeting her stare. Her eyes widen when she registers what he’d said.

“I-What?” Her shock is apparent.

He breaks eye contact with her, withdrawing his hand from the spot next to hers on the rail, the disappointment coursing through him undeniable. He’d known that she’d never noticed him, but it still hurt to see the bafflement in her reaction.

“I had a crush on you for ages, pathetic pining and all, and the worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

She flounders, mouth slightly agape, for once not having a response and the smile that curls his lips is one without mirth.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Jude,” he grits out, swiftly turning in an attempt to flee with what was left of his dignity.

He’d made it to the top of the staircase before hearing her voice calling after him.

“Cardan! Cardan wait, goddammit.”

Reluctantly, he stops, bracing himself for the awkwardness of the next few minutes. She’d look at him with pity, explain to him that she wasn’t interested, or maybe that she had someone else. That last thought lances through him like a punch to the gut. During his self-indulgent social media searches he had never seen any posts that indicated that there was someone special in her life, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t anyone. After all, Jude Duarte was a special type of woman, the type of woman that you fought for.

Too bad that he’d figured that out too late.

The sound of her boots clacking on the floor gets closer and closer and he turns around just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck and drag his head down to connect their lips, their noses bumping together in the process. Time stops, and his every High School fantasy comes true when he feels her tangle her tongue with his and it’s a little sloppy at first, especially since she had caught him off guard, but they find their rhythm and flames lick through his entire being. Frantically, he grabs a hold of her waist and pushes her until she’s against the wall, her fingers coming up to tangle in his locks as he strokes her sides.

She pulls away to breathe and they’re both panting harshly as if they had run a marathon.

“I had a crush on you too. I hated it and I tried to fight it because you used to pick on me in middle school.”

Had he? It was so long ago that he really couldn’t remember, but he also knew that he was precisely the type of person who’d want to hurt the girl that got under his skin.

“Really?” He grins ruefully.

“Yes, really.” She reaches up and playfully smacks the back of his head before carding her fingers through his hair in the same spot to soothe it.

‘Well, my middle school self humbly begs for your forgiveness.” He leans forward and presses their foreheads together, locking his gaze with hers.

“Apology accepted.”

And then they’re kissing once more. He may not have been prepared for a moment like this, but he was sure as hell going to hold on to it and never let go.

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

Some soft boi Cardan for you lovely peeps. I hope you see this and that you enjoy, Anon. Thanks for the ask!

Tagging: @cupcakesandkittens , @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln, @thewickedkings , @kittkatandbooboo , @min-unicorn, @fangirlprincess09, @thefolkofthefic

Let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of the tag list🌻

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

To Us, A Love Story Unwritten | Kuroo T., Miya A.

Hello!! Before you begin reading, THIS STORY IS A PART TWO to Redefining You , which I highly recommend you read first because a lot of things are connected! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bonus

Synopsis: Time away from Tetsurou leads you to the serendipity that is Miya Atsumu.

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, You, Miya Atsumu

Genre/Warnings/Tags: None! Angst, HEALING, Hurt & Comfort, surfer!Atsumu, tattooed!Kuroo, Fluff

WC: 7600+

a/n: here’s a word dump of my feelings bcos i made an oopsie and projected real ppl in 2d characters again

*playlist if u want maximum feelies: Blue (Elina), Miles Apart (Nick Wilson)

The thought of healing didn’t cross your mind until some months later.

In the mornings after that morning, you stood in your balcony, leaning against the railing with a mug of coffee, your thoughts wandering. Sometimes you thought of what kind of coffee you liked, and other times you caught yourself wondering how Tetsurou moved through his six AMs. Morning thoughts were reserved for the things you prefer to keep out of your head during the day. Tetsurou, of course, had always been an exception. He somehow always flowed in your train of thought whether the numbers on your watch flashed 3am or 3pm.

Or now, you thought after taking a quick peek at the time in your phone, 6:19 AM; all you could think about was how sad his golden eyes looked against the black of Tokyo’s backdrop.

Tetsurou making his way into your thoughts has always how it’s been for almost a decade, and habits are a little hard to break. At least, that’s what you say to reason with yourself.

Thinking back to your words that night, the “I love you” just kind of slipped out. But you know you meant it. Shifting your wrist to the side, you studied the tattoo again, then closed your eyes to remember the expression on your best friend’s features.

You meant the I love you, you told yourself again. Towards yourself that was for sure; towards Tetsurou.

And that’s always going to be the case, taunted the voice in the back of your head.

After that night, Tetsurou had broken up with his long term girlfriend for good. Though he didn’t necessarily ruin himself over the breakup—there were changes.

He still texted you at odd hours to show you a video he thought was funny, still showed up to your apartment for movie nights, and more or less was still present. But it was during the particularly sentimental scenes in the movie where he’d choose to refill the popcorn or grab another soda, and you could see that his can was still half full. You noticing that Tetsurou always chose to pick the other boba shop that was on the other side of town never flew past you either. You knew that that was the shop he always used to take her after classes—so even seeing how his hands never failed to tighten against the steering wheel when the two of you would drive by, you always pretended not to notice. Even though four months had passed, you know that for him, the wound was still fresh.

And remembering how sad he looked that night, you couldn’t help yourself to feel for his pain. At the end of the day, weren’t you just two people who yearned for the love that couldn’t be yours?

So you sigh and take a sip of coffee from the mug; it had grown a little cold. The digital clock on your phone read 6:31 AM next to a text from Tetsurou asking if you had time for lunch later.

Replying a quick ‘yep. meet u at the usual :)’, did nothing for you trying to have a more productive day off today and thus the morning felt a little slower than normal, so you sigh. Again.

It was going to be one of those days.

Tetsurou always made it a point to look gorgeous. Was he trying? Probably not, but that son a bitch knew people gave him looks that lingered a bit too long to be considered just a passing glance. You nearly snort in laughter at the way he opens the door to the café a little too, for better words, extravagantly, and walk to you purposely taking his time because you could tell he felt the way the young mom sitting at the table near the counter was giving him the look.

Then again, you don’t blame her. You weren’t too far from her reaction, albeit you actually had the decency to not openly gawk at him. Tetsurou plopped down in the chair opposite from you and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and propping them up the table before grabbing the menu from the middle of the table.

Already knowing your order, and his even though he still looks through the menu every time, you sit in your seat waiting for him to settle on the same thing he ordered the last time you ate there.

“Tetsu, why do you have to be so extra every time you see someone looking at you for more than three seconds?”

He cocked his head to the side and peeked at you from behind the menu, “Because I’m hot, tree.”

Though you rolled your eyes at the nickname, you still smiled at the familiar banter, “I still don’t get why you call me tree when you’re the literal beanpole in this friendship.”

“That’s rich coming from you, considering you told people you knew a talking rooster in highschool,” he deadpanned, but you knew he was on the edge of a chuckle from the way he emphasized his words.

“Hey,” you raised your arms up in defense, “people thought you were interesting that way so…”

Tetsurou set the menu down and rolled his eyes at your response as the waiter greeted the two of you. Before Tetsurou could open his mouth to say what he wanted, you spoke, “I’ll get the carbonara and he’ll get the tonkatsu ramen—“

“Oi-“ he interrupted from the side, still, you continued, “we’ll also get iced tea, extra sugar for him, and a little less for me.”

The waiter looked between the two of you waiting for Tetsurou to finish speaking but he only leans back huffing out a, “She’s right.”

You smirked. “You get the same thing every time.”

“Well what if I want something else one day?” he replied to which you rolled your eyes as a reply.

In between bites, Tetsurou looks up from his meal, “Any plans?”

You twirled the straw of your drink around the liquid and looked at him, “I was thinking of traveling somewhere. My boss is letting me take some time off, and season’s kind of slow, so might as well.”

He nods, and then points his chopsticks at you, sighing, “Oh to be young and employed with an employer who doesn’t want to kill you with work.”

“We’re literally seven months apart,” you deadpan.

He huffs in his seat and continues eating.

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

You look to your left at Tetsurou who’s facing you, no longer paying attention to the movie playing in the TV. Smoothing out the blanket on your lap, you sigh and tilt your head. “Kinda? I’m thinking somewhere warm. Kinda miss the sea.”

At this point the movie you two settled on a few hours ago had been completely forgotten, so you shift your body and face him. He offers you your third (or was it the fourth?) can of beer for that night, which you take and pop open immediately.

“(Y/n), can you even swim?” he laughs.

You glare at him from behind your drink. “I can go and look pretty in the beach while sipping my margaritas thank you very much.”

Tetsurou clinks his can against yours and leans back against the couch, shifting to a more comfortable position. When he finally settles, he positions his head in a way that’s still facing you.

Draping your legs across his lap, you rearrange the blanket so that it covers the both of you. You feel the weight of his hands leaning against your legs and then hear him speak, “How long are you gonna be gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a month? Two months? Haven’t even got the ticket yet.”

He gives you a look you can’t decipher, and then his voice becomes a little quiet, “What if I want to go with you?”

“Tetsu, you know your job won’t let you off that long,” you reply.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and pout at you, “You’re going to go and find a new surfer best friend who’ll buy you margaritas that flips his hair and you’ll forget about me.”

You chuckle. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

At this point the alcohol must have hit the both of you because you suddenly look at him, eyes soft in the way you usually would mask in the hours you were sober. He looks at you, equally as deep in the state of inebriation as you are because his eyes are as hazy as the slur in his tone when he says, “Nope! Because you looooove me (y/n).”

And he laughs at his own joke, tilting his head back to take another swig of beer. The comedic undertone flies past you anyway, because you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and sadly nod, “Yeah. I do”

In front of you, Tetsurou raises his hand, smiling, then hollers, “High five! Love you too.”

If it wasn’t for the liquid confidence, you would’ve laughed along to his joke and take another gulp of your beer to swallow the confession—but you’re four cans in and Tetsurou saying that he loves you too clouds the usual boundaries swimming in your head.

He doesn’t notice you when you take another heavy gulp from your can, or bite your lip afterwards, but he hears you when you say, “I do, you dumb fuck, I love you.”

And as soon as you say it, you feel him look at you. You choose to keep your head down. A few beats of silence passes before he speaks, “I know, (y/n),” he reaches forward to grab your hand, taking it into his. He traces the lining of the tattoo before continuing, “I know your tattoo story. And I’m still proud of-“

“I love you, Tetsurou,” you could almost wince at how loud it echoed in the silence, and the alcohol is still swimming in your system so you take another gulp hoping to dive deeper.

You feel him stop tracing the lines on your wrist so you take your hand back to your lap. He let the quiet envelop the room again before he spoke, and you could tell he was careful with his words.

“That time in the balcony, when you said you loved someone…” he trailed off so you look up and catch his stare. His eyes were still glassy; your head was still swimming, the rational thoughts further muffled by liquid confidence.

“I meant you,” you say, and try to fight the urge to break eye contact.

And because Tetsurou chooses to reply with a hushed ‘I’m sorry.’, you tell him ‘it’s okay, Tetsu.’ and retreat to your bedroom with a mumbled excuse of sleeping off a headache.

You lie in the dark with one hand over your eyes and sniffle quietly. You hear his “I’m sorry,” echo in the silence, but you try to ignore the thought at how immediate the apology was. He always had a habit of thinking about his answers in uncertain situations.

But you know him more than you give yourself credit for, you realize, so you shut your eyes and ignore the sting of the tears because you know. You’ve always known everything you felt for him had been on the unrequited side for the most part.

The certainty in his apology still hurt none the less.

That morning you wake up with a slight pound in your head and an empty apartment. At least he didn’t stick around, you thought, fully aware that the conversation afterwards would have most likely been too awkward to sit through.

Sighing as you rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you paused in your track to look at the table where a plate of omurice lay in the middle next to a glass of sweet tea, the condensation still a little fresh on the glass.

Taking a seat and whispering a soft, “Itadakimasu”, you picked up the glass and took a sip. It didn’t taste as sweet as his.

Your eyes still stung, but you couldn’t help but smile at the taste. Looks like he remembers how you like your tea too.

After that night, there never really came a talk about where the two of you stood. Two days after the not so sober confession, Tetsurou showed up at your door with a bag of donuts demanding your company to picnic at this new spot he found recently. So you played along and pretended like nothing happened. The rational thoughts were back, your head no longer cloudy so this time, you laughed along with Tetsurou.

Though you could tell this time around his gaze towards you lingered a little longer, and he began to have moments where it looked like he was contemplating to start a conversation then ultimately deciding against it at the very last second. It was fine, though. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that conversation just yet.

So the next few weeks flowed like how it always did. Movie nights, playful banters, small talk, and beer—only this time you never drank more than two.

“Have you decided where you’re going?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s this island in the Philippines. Siargao. My flight’s next week. The place looks sunny enough, but I might hop around the other islands if I stay long enough,” you reply.

“Don’t drown,” he laughs, and sets his beer down. You turn your focus back to the movie after chuckling at his reply and ignore how he never picked up a third can this time. And unlike before, he didn’t ask if he could come along this time.

Tetsurou drops you off with a half hug and a request that you update him as often as you can.

After a final wave at the gate, you board the plane with a return ticket to Japan slotted for two months later down the year.

The island of Siargao is as beautiful as the pictures you always see on social media. Outside the unit you rented, was a stretch of untouched beach that was some ways from the main square of the city. And true to your words, for the first week of your arrival, you spent your days kicking the sand, lounging by the water and sipping on margaritas.

Tetsurou sent you multiple messages during the first few days, to which you replied through selfies with your margaritas. He’d send you a photo of himself rolling his eyes with the caption “off to work, because I have a job. Like some people.” , or something along similar lines.

You tried to think this wasn’t some random trip you took just because of Tetsurou. It had been a long time since you last took a vacation for yourself; work was lenient, you saved up enough, and frankly, you missed the beach. Tetsurou was just the icing on top of the cake that helped you make your decision, you rationalized.

Plus, you thought, this place is paradise.

And you held on to that thought because a few days later came the knock on your door at six in the morning that introduced you to the serendipity you never could have predicted. Your little summer serendipity came in the form of a six foot one, and totally ripped blonde named Miya Atsumu.

He knocked at your door asking if you knew any places that rented out surfboards and scooters. By the time he was at the third word of his sentence, you knew he was Japanese because of the accent that lingered after he spoke. By the fourth sentence, he smiled in a way that had his eyes crinkling. And by the end of the conversation, by whatever being possessed you in that moment, probably that extra margarita, you had agreed to go to the main square in the city with him.

Atsumu knocks on your door for the second time that day at five in the afternoon wearing a loose white button shirt and another eye crinkling smile. Dangling a set of keys in one hand he nodded behind him and said, “Ready to go? I got the scooter from the place you told me.”

This time, you voiced out your hesitation, “Ahh, it’s alright. You don’t have to get dinner for me tonight. I just happened to know a place.”

He smiles and blinks at you laughing, “Ya travelin’ alone?” You nod then he continues, “Same here. Might as well know someone in the area. Heard the food here’s good, so let’s go.”

You open your mouth to protest but he turns and walks towards his scooter so you huff and follow after him. He did have a point. You were going to be there for two months so might as well actually take the time to know some people.

After Atsumu helps you fasten the belt on the helmet, he tells you to ‘feel free to hold on to my waist if ya need to balance.’ and then backs to the main street. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he drives along a road parallel to the stretch of water on your far left. It must have been close to seven, you take note, because as you glance up the colors in the sky begin to blend into mellow hues of orange and red.

You look forward and glance at Atsumu’s reflection in the side mirror before briefly catching his eye. From the mirror, you could see an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

“Ya like what ya see?” he yells over the wind.

You squeeze his shoulder, then lean closer saying, “Just drive. I’m not in the mood to die.”

He laughs over the holler of the open air and you can’t help but smile along to how his laugh lingers in the air.

Soon enough, the two of you settle into a restobar by the beach, one close enough to the water where you could ditch your flip flops and let your feet sink in the sand.

This has got to be the fifth margarita I’m drinking today, you think to yourself before taking a sip. Still good though, you inwardly snort. Atsumu sits across you from the table nursing his own choice of drink.

The atmosphere was nice, the live musician strumming his first song in the background. Then Atsumu speaks from across you, “So,” he begins, “How long ya stayin’?”

You fiddle with the straw of your drink, facing him, “Two months. You?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know yet. Off season and there’s not much to do back home, so might as well be bored somewhere a little more scenic.”

“Indefinite vacation,” you nod—impressed, “Must be hella loaded.”

He laughs again, “I’m comfortable.”

The silence envelops the two of you again, but as the musician begins another song, from the corner of your eye you see Atsumu listen, clap, and smile so you decide maybe befriending this stranger won’t be so bad after all.

The next night you head for go for drinks, Tetsurou messages you with a picture of him and Kenma in the car with a caption, “movie night minus the traitor who left the country >:((“ and you reply with your signature margarita selfie with Atsumu throwing a peace sign to your right. Tetsurou replies with a smiley face and you don’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

The next few weeks consisted of waking up shy of the sunrise and walks along the trail where the waves crept towards the sand. Atsumu liked to join you in the mornings, of course, the days he actually wakes up before ten AM. Some days you’d watch him peddle out into the water catching wave after wave as you sat in the sand, under a shade. You didn’t really go out into the water and preferred to just sit in the sun, so the times Atsumu would catch a break, he’d lay out a towel next to you and sit to talk.

He was talkative. Extremely talkative. But it was welcome, you suppose. He asked aimless questions during conversations. Conversations with him usually sounded like this: “(y/n)?” “Yep?” “Whadda ya think about riceballs?” “They’re…okay, I guess.” “Good to know.”

It was endearing, you suppose. Atsumu respected your boundaries and never pried, that fact was for sure. Though, he chose to fill in the beats of silence with little facts about his life. Over the course of the next month, in the moments you’d spend with Atsumu during the day, you’ve learned that he was playing for a professional volleyball team, he’s originally not from Tokyo, he tripped during a fan meeting, has a twin brother who’s darn good at cookin’ (he emphasized), and that his favorite food is fatty tuna. You don’t remember specifically asking, but he talks anyway you can’t bring yourself to mind one bit.

During the past month and some, Tetsurou sporadically texts you a greeting to which you reply to—but this time, it wasn’t until much, much later that you realize you didn’t think too much about the change of tone and much hastier conversations. You usually ended the phone call this time around, too.

Nearing the last few stretches of golden hour, Atsumu would routinely knock at your door and drag you out to walk around the beach only retreating to your respective units hours after the sunset.

It was during this one night where Atsumu sits you down and stars a small bonfire. He excused himself for a brief moment then came back with a Tupperware of what you assumed to be snacks, a blanket, and a hoodie which he lent you (that up to now you still haven’t returned). You smile as he takes his seat next to you, comfortable in his hoodie.

“So,” Atsumu breaks the silence, “how come yer runnin’ away for two months?”

“That’s kinda sudden,” you reply.

He knocks your shoulder with his lightly before speaking again, “You don’t have ta’ share if you don’t wanna.”

“No pressure,” he says again and his eyes crinkle at his smile so you press your shoulder against his and say, “I just wanted time for myself I guess.”

He nods, so you continue, “It’s nothing dramatic, really. For a big part of my life I just…lived according to how people placed me in their lives. I guess I just wanted the space where I had to make decisions from nothing if that even makes any sense.”

“Depends. How many margaritas did ya have today?” he jokes.

“Atsumu! You were with me the whole day, I haven’t even had one yet,” you laugh out.

“But I understand what ya’ mean. Yer all good, I just thought you were gonna say you were soul searchin’ cause of a boy that broke ya’ heart back home.”

You look at him and wince. “In a way, that was a factor as well.”

Half expecting a sympathetic reply, you find yourself rolling your eyes and laughing because Atsumu suddenly yells, “Bingo!” and flicks your forehead.

He faces you and holds his hands up, “Hey, we all got a reason to do stuff so I ain’t gonna judge ya’.”

You smile and lean against his shoulder because you know he’s sincere.

“Atsumu?” you call out.

“Yeah?” he replies as he turns his head looking at you.

The red of the flames flicker as a glassy reflection against the brown in his eyes and your thoughts become jumbled for a second.

“If I find out you’re here because you got dumped I’m never letting you live it down.”

His eyes crinkle along with his laugh and you find yourself missing the pools of brown, but the echo of his laugh resonates clear in your ears as compensation so you decide you’re satiated.

“I swear I just got bored back home!”

Atsumu spends the next few hours by telling you stories and giving you soft smiles, and you don’t notice the absence of Tetsurou’s message that night.

On the afternoon after some weeks more, Atsumu comes to you by knocking at your door at five in the afternoon (which doesn’t even surprise you at this point), demanding you put on swimwear because he was going to teach you how to swim. At first, you stare at him with a blank look—wherein he stares at you right back with equal intensity, so after some time, you sigh and shoo him out, telling him you’ll meet him outside after you get ready.

After tugging on some shorts and a bikini top, you walk outside and glance around looking for the telltale blonde of Atsumu’s head. It doesn’t really surprise you when you hear your name being hollered from some distance, so as you look to the direction of the water—you see Atsumu waving his arms wildly, already waist deep out in sea.

The water was warm, at least, and you carefully wade in the water towards Atsumu. He lets you grab his arms to help you find balance against the waves knocking against you.

“You know you’re going to fail if you try to teach me right?” you say.

“Just needed an excuse to get you in the water,” he chuckles.

You respond by splashing him with a handful of water. And somewhere in between splashes of water and playful banter, you find yourself wading chest deep into warm water, Atsumu’s arms acting as your anchor against the push and pull of the waves. The two of you stay like that for some time and you allow the woosh of the water and distant sounds of the children on shore fill the silence.

“Golden hour’s almost up, ‘Tsumu, we should go back.” you say after some time.

He stands behind you and leans down a bit, then surprises you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. Your breath hitches, then his voice sounds low near your ear, “Look at the sky.”

And so you do. The sky in front of you lights itself in bursting shades of oranges, reds, and touches of violets. You turn your face to the side but stop because you see Atsumu staring at you, the expression on his face soft.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” his lips part to say, and you nod because you see licks of the sky’s painting reflected in the glassy brown pools of Atsumu’s eyes.

He blinks and smiles in a softer way that only the corners crinkle up, and you don’t notice how your hand eventually found its way to wrap around his because you’re gravitating towards him—face angling closer until you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Did you know,” you begin, “when you feel deja vu that means the universe is telling you you’re going down the right path?”

Atsumu looks as you, “Does this feel familiar?”

“In a way,” you respond and smile.

Turning to face him, Atsumu’s hands cradle yours as he presses his lips towards the side of your lips, then back to the side of your head feeling him smiling into the kiss. “You’re somethin’ else, (y/n).”

You look at him wearing a smile mirroring his, “Something good I hope.”

It’s something good, you decide later that night as you settle in bed after dinner with Atsumu. The past few hours flew by in a mirage of good conversation, light hearted jokes and even more eye crinkling smiles from Atsumu.

Settling into the comforter, you grab your laptop just in time as Tetsurou’s face pops up on screen, requesting a video call. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you hit the accept button and wave hello as Tetsuou’s face appears on the screen. He holds a can of beer as a greeting and leans forward. His eyes look glassy.

“(Y/n)..” His voice trails off before slowly continuing, “—how are you?”

You don’t notice his tone from the high you’re still feeling from the day so you beam at him, “I’m good! Atsumu and I are really hitting it off! You’d love him Tetsu!”

He stares at you through the webcam and then he sighs deep. Finally catching a drift of the atmosphere he’s giving off, you watch him crack another beer open and slowly speak, “You okay? Did something happen?”

He sets the can down at the table in front of him and places his face in his hands. You notice the new ink around his forearms. “I miss you, (y/n).”

“I’ll be home next week, Tetsu,” you say

“I—“ he pauses to look up at you with glassy eyes, “I think we should give us a try.”

Your heart clenches. “Tetsurou, you’re drunk. We can talk when I get home.” He shakes his head, and his movement is a little sluggish, so you continue to speak before he could, “I saw the photo your ex posted earlier. You’re still not okay, Tetsu.”

He leans back to his chair with a little force, “And suddenly you are? After being in love with me for eight years, (y/n), you expect me to believe that you’re suddenly okay? Bullshit.”

Your face grimaces, and you feel anger bubble up, the emotion seeping into your words, “I don’t think you’re ever going to go away, Tetsurou. For years I watched you fall in and out of love with someone who was never me. I’m not suddenly okay but I accepted that this—“ you pause to gesture between the two of you, “—isn’t going to happen and I’m moving on. I watched you when you were at your happiest and I deserve that too, Tetsu. I deserve to be at my happiest whether it be by myself or with Atsu-“

“We can try, (y/n),” he cuts you off softly.

“But I don’t deserve someone who isn’t sure about me,” you reply.

And maybe it’s the liquid confidence that riles him up, but he suddenly straightens his back and looks at you with the same glare you stare at him with, “And are you sure about Atsumu? You told me none of us are saints, (y/n), you’re not better off than I am here.”

You open your mouth, but the silence remains; the atmosphere suddenly heavy.

Then Tetsurou slumps before he he speaks, “(Y/n), I—“

“It’s okay, Kuroo,” you watch as he winces at his surname, “It’s late and I really want to get some sleep. You should too. Take care.”

You catch the last second of him parting his lips at an attempt to reply before you promptly ended the call and shut off your laptop.

His words ring in your ear the entire night, and you think of Atsumu the entire night. You watch the second hand of the clock on your bedside table tick slowly. Your hand comes to rest against your eyes as you try to let sleep pull you in.

You think of Tetsurou who looked at you with glassy eyes that told you all the reasons why his heart was still hurting, then you think of Atsumu—of how the sunset looked better reflected in his eyes than it did painted across the sky.

“I really hope this is something good,” you echo your words from earlier as you let sleep finally succumb into slumber.

The night before your flight, Atsumu seats you outside for a bonfire, with the same blankets, snacks, and hoodie fitted around you. The first few hours he jokes about little stories that happened throughout his life and listens patiently when you’d share a snippet of yours.

At this point, you weren’t sure where the two of you stood. You look at him from the corner of your eye as he blows against an extremely burnt marshmallow before sheepishly offering the stick to you.

“When we’re back in Japan I’m lettin’ ya taste ‘Samu’s cookin’ to make up for this I swear.”

You lean your head against his arm and blow on the charred marshmallow, “Have you decided when you’re coming back?”

“Yes, but I’m not tellin ya,” Atsumu chuckles.

“What!” You exclaim, suddenly sitting up, “You already have a ticket?”

“That’s also a secret, doll.”

You sigh and move to lightly punch his shoulder, but instead, he catches your hand midway and envelops it in his own. Atsumu looks at the tattoo on your wrist peeking out, so tentatively, he pushes down the sleeve and looks at it.

“Baby’s breath means eternal love, right?” he asks, voice hushed.

“I’m surprised a big, buff, man like you knows,” you reply.

“Oi, big buff men can be sentimental too,” Atsumu quips.

“(Y/n),” he begins then looks at you in a way that suddenly has your stomach churning, “Should we give us a go at this?”

He asks the same question as Tetsurou did a few nights back and your head is swimming. Tetsurou’s words muddle the thoughts in your head as you turn to face Atsumu who is looking at you with eyes that always held the same softness that remained unchanged from two months ago.

Is this even fair for Atsumu? is the thought that you circle around.

“I don’t want to give you only half of me, ‘Tsumu,” you cradle his cheek in your palm and your heart stirs when he leans in.

“You’re too good for me,” you confess.

He closes his eyes and you find yourself missing the dancing specks of scarlet flames reflected in his orbs.

“You’re killin’ me, doll,” he sighs, his face still warm against your palm. Atsumu’s hand trails up and cups your hand that’s still flush against his cheek.

“Is this the part where we say we’re the right people who met at the wrong time?” he jokes quietly. Atsumu looks at you with a smile contrasting against the somber expression in his face, and you feel your heart clench.

Your thoughts momentarily flicker back to the night you talked to Tetsurou in your balcony some months ago and remember the feeling of déjà vu hinting that you were heading in the right direction with your decision.

Staring back at him, you look at your own reflection in darkened pools of brown and don’t feel déjà vu’s familiar push. Atsumu’s other hand trails up your face and his thumb rubs against your cheek. You stay silent when he sighs again and your heart clenches in the way that hurts, and your brain scrambles for a reason why.

Atsumu angles your hand in a way that lets him press a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. “Hope ya heal in time, (y/n).”

You’re still quiet, thoughts still muddled as your rationality wrestles to string words to convey to Atsumu. “We can stay in contact, ‘Tsumu. I still want you to be in my life,” you slowly say.

“I don’t wanna be hurtin’ you while you’re still tryin’ to find yourself,” he says, and you nod. Déjà vu never comes and your heart still aches.

And your heart remains heavy as the two of you stand up to retreat for the night. Against the door of your room you look at him and press a kiss on his cheek. He smiles at you.

“Well, I guess,” you initiate, “see you around?”

He smiles and crosses the short distance between the two of you, then presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “If the universe wills it, doll.”

The feeling of déjà vu is absent for the rest of the night.

After the first few days of your arrival back in Japan, you stay in your apartment cursing the winter. This particular winter was a little harsh for Tokyo and the sudden temperature change you needed to adjust to didn’t help with your traitor immune system. Kenma had waited for you at the arrival area of the airport instead of Tetsurou that day. Then again, you weren’t complaining—you didn’t have any plans to talk to him immediately after coming back home.

You didn’t need to report back to your job until the next week so the first few days, you loitered around your apartment mindlessly passing the time. Some mornings, you’d drag a chair by the balcony and sip your morning coffee. The snow accumulating on the rails and the gloomy morning light was a far cry from the little island you explored with Atsumu back in the Philippines, but your thoughts still ghosted around him from time to time.

The morning you left for the airport, he slept in, but that didn’t stop you from leaving a sticky note in his front door with your contact details neatly printed in the paper. Throughout your day, your eyes constantly flickered to sneak glimpses at your phone’s notification bar, but there was never an unknown number. So you sighed, and instead scrolled through the photos you managed to capture with him. The image of Atsumu stared back at you through the screen, expression beaming with unfiltered happiness and you find yourself smiling along every time.

A knock on your door one morning brings you out of your haze. Before you could look through the peep hole, another knock comes and then a voice, “Ah, (y/n), I think you’re home now,” your hand on the door knob loosens, “It’s Tetsurou. Can we please talk?”

You must have stayed quiet too long because he speaks again, “I got you donuts.”

And you sigh, because he’s right, the two of you need to talk. But you still tell yourself you’re only opening the door because it’s six in the morning and you can’t be bothered to make breakfast so the donuts are the only reason you’re letting him in.

Tetsurou sits on the opposite side of the dining table gripping the handle of his mug with one hand before he clears his throat and looks at you, “I’m sorry.”

“Tetsurou,” you begin, “You’re someone that I don’t think will ever leave my system.” His eyes are a little clearer now that you return his stare. “You’re still the person who grew up with me even if time difference existed you know. You’ve had so many roles in my life and that’s never going to change.”

He looks at you, suddenly looking like a teenager again. His golden eyes stare at you and gleam of something unspoken. “I think somewhere along the years I really did fall in love with you, (y/n). And it just sucks how we never met at the same page. I really do love you, (y/n).”

“Maybe in the next life, Tetsu,” you say suddenly choked up. “We both deserve-“

“A fresh start.” He cuts you off, smiling. “A fresh start.” You affirm.

Before you knew it, Tetsurou rolls his sleeve to his elbows and angles his arm showing you a small outline of the sun peeking out behind some buildings. You look at him just in time for his explanation, “It’s not as sentimental as your baby’s breath tattoo, but sunrises remind me of you.”

You feel your eyes water when you look at the amber of his eyes growing glassier, “You got a tattoo that reminds you of me?”

“You’ve always been a constant in my life, (y/n). I shared so many sunrises with you. And I mean it when I say that I want you to find what makes you happy.” He tells you as you smile and lean forward, tracing the lining of his tattoo. The moment feels a little like déjà vu that doesn’t disappear when Tetsurou speaking again, “I love you enough to realize that kind of happiness won’t be with me, (y/n).”

He looks at you and everything feels so familiar. You choke out a sob that sounded a little like a laugh and Tetsurou does the same.

“You’re never getting rid of me, you lunatic,” you say, and Tetsurou laughs—eyes glassy from the pricks of tears fighting to slide down his cheeks. “We’re okay, right?” He asks you. And you nod, because your heart constricts in a way that doesn’t hurt, the knot in your stomach gone and Tetsurou looking so beautiful from the morning light that filtered in feels so familiar.

“Always, Tetsu.”

And after some moments of comfortable silence, he looks to the window on his left saying, “So, surfer dude slash volleyball player, huh? I think you got a type going on, (y/n).”

You roll your eyes and finally grab a donut from the box. “Yeah.”

Tetsurou chuckles, “Tell me about him. He’s the first guy who makes you look dopey in love.” So you smile and look out the window thinking about the boy who spoke of the little moments and showed you worlds under the sun and feel your heart mellow to a gentle beat, “He’s something good.”

Atsumu’s number doesn’t show up on your phone for the next month, but you try to keep yourself from doing your own research, or as Tetsurou pointed out, stalking, for his presence in social media. If he didn’t want to be found, you’d just leave him to it.

Tetsurou sits across from you at the arrival gate in Haneda airport later that month, scrolling through his phone and mumbling curses because Bokuto, his friend, had told him the wrong time for his arrival and won’t be arriving until a few hours later. Instead of driving back home, wasting gas, and sitting through traffic, you suggest to pass the time at a café instead.

“I swear to god, (y/n), remind me to end my friendship with him the second he lands,” Tetsurou huffs from across you.

“You’re being dramatic again,” You roll your eyes, laughing.

“He’s gonna be here in a bit,” you pause and stand up, grabbing your phone, “I’ll go check the board so stay here.”

“Since you left your wallet here, I’m treating myself to another frapp, thanks (y/n)!” you hear him call from behind you, so you turn to flick him off as you keep walking.

Looking at the board above the gate, your eyes scan to look for information regarding Bokuto’s flight. Under said flight, you smile looking at SIARGAO listed within the board. Briefly, your thought wonders off to Atsumu; you hoped he was doing well.

A flow of people begin to trail out of the gate and into the lobby. Assuming that it must be from Bokuto’s flight, you stand on your tip toes from your little corner to look for the telltale monochromatic palette of his hair.

Grabbing your phone, you hastily press call to Tetsurou’s contact name, to which he answers with a drawled out “Heeelllloo?” along with an exaggerated slurp to the Frappuccino he bought with your card.

You open your mouth to tell him to come over, except that you don’t because standing a few meters in front of you is a familiar blonde.

From the phone in your ear, you hear Tetsurou call your name, so through the haze in your thoughts, you mumble a quick “Never mind.” and hang up. You don’t think Atsumu notices you just yet because he’s pulled his luggage to the side, a little closer to you this time, and pulled out his phone to what you could guess was him texting somebody.

You don’t speak for the first few beats of silence because, holy shit this is fanfiction material—is this actually happening? Eventually he pockets his phone and looks around, before his eyes spots you, who at this point, is still openly gawking at him some distance away.

Then three things happen in succession; first, Atsumu’s eyes widen, second, he blinks really fast, and then finally, third, cracks a smile.

And as soon as his smile pushes the crinkle in his eyes, you feel yourself release the breath you’ve unconsciously held in. He pushes his luggage with him as he walks towards you, hand held up in greeting and the smile still plastered wide on his face.

“Yo,” he says and your heart bursts with your reply that came out a little more breathless than you’d expected, “Hi.”

Tetsurou stands some distance away from the two of you, holding your wallet and his Frappuccino. He spots the blonde mop of head you’re staring at, really you should chill out (he thinks), and immediately recognizes his features as Miya Atsumu, the same guy who’s been a part of your daily margarita selfie for the two months you were in the Philippines.

The bedhead watches you walk towards Atsumu, and he to you before you both met somewhat in the middle, then looks at you, finding himself smile because of how happy you looked. He stands in his spot and can’t help but feel some sort of déjà vu as he stops himself from approaching the two of you. His heart, he realizes, clenches in a way that sort of hurts but sort of doesn’t, but because this is the first time looking at you with a smile so unabashed, he settles with the thought that because he loves you—you deserve nothing short of the happiness you’re feeling now.

And you can’t help but feel the same as Atsumu laughs out a comment about how the universe must really want the two of you together. His arms circle your figure after exchanging a few pleasantries and inside jokes and you smile into the crook of his neck.

“This feels a little like that déjà vu thing ya talked about before, ya know.” He mumbles. And for the brief moment you see Tetsurou’s text on the screen of your phone reading, “whipped.”, you laugh in a way that has you feeling dizzy and light. You feel like you could cry when Atsumu kisses the side of your head, because this moment feels so familiar.

Atsumu feels so familiar. So when you break the embrace and look at the reflection of your watering eyes in the warm pools of his, more than ever, you were sure that this is exactly where the gods meant for you to be.

a/n: *i’m aware there’s no direct flight from haneda/siargao but pls bear w me ;A;

proceed to Epilogue :D

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rockbell1003 · 3 years

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Cuddles

A new Mallory and Kaito fic! I’ve been working on this installment on and off for a few months, not entirely happy with it but I thought what I ended up with was cute. So here we are! As always I hope you enjoy reading about Mal and Kai and feel free to message or send me asks if you wanna know more about them :)

I was surprised when it happened.

Kai had invited me over for dinner, an anime that he was cast in got picked up by a cable channel and we were going to live-tweet during the episode. I took a nervous breath before I knocked on his door, this would be the second time I’ve been to his apartment. The first being the night when I drove him home from the bar and wrote my number on his forehead before leaving. We had gone out a few times after that and we saw each other at work, but this would be our first ‘home date’. Right as my knuckles rapped against the door, it swung open revealing Kaito. He was dressed nice, jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his arms, his hair was brushed back revealing his forehead and to my secret pleasure, his nose seemed a little pink.

“Hi,” he said, smiling before opening the door wider, “come on in,”

I smiled back and entered, “hi,” I replied, still feeling a bit nervous and awkward, I walked further into his apartment, stopping to set my purse down by his coffee table.

“Your place is really nice,” I said, turning back to him.

Kaito shrugged and made his way towards me, “thanks, make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” he asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Sure,” I replied following him, “could I have water?” I asked as we reached the kitchen, it was small and sparse as if he didn’t use it often.

Kai nodded, “is tap alright?” he asked as he grabbed a glass from one of his cabinets.

“Yep!” I replied, my attention caught on the oven and the smoke that started to come out of it.

“Kai, were you cooking something in the oven?” I asked worriedly, reaching for an oven mitt.

“Shit!” he exclaimed behind me but I was too focused on removing what looked like some sort of casserole out of the oven. I set the now burnt dish on top of the stove and turned off the oven before turning back to Kai who was holding my glass of water and looking extremely embarrassed.

I couldn’t help but giggle, “not much of a cook are you?”

Kai sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “no,”

“When you invited me over for dinner I asked if you wanted me to bring anything,” I smiled, “but what is it you said?” I paused and brought my hand up to my face in a thinking position, “ah! I remember now, ‘no don’t worry about it, I can cook dinner.’”

I smiled at Kai who was now frowning. Worried that I took my teasing too far I stepped closer, “I’m just teasing, I’m not upset, if anything,” I took the glass of water out of his hands and set it on the counter, “it’s actually endearing that you can’t cook.” I smiled and gently, in what I hoped was cute or flirty action tapped his pink nose.

Almost immediately Kai turned away and raised his arm up, “heeISHOO..uh,”

“Bless you,” I replied as I watched him succumb to another sneeze into his elbow, “sorry,” I added a bit sheepishly.

Kai raised his head and scrunched his nose as if he was a rabbit, “why are you apologizing?”

I shook my head, “nevermind,” I glanced back at what was supposed to be our dinner, “how ‘bout I cook dinner?” I smiled.

Kai rubbed his nose with his fist, turned to me and looked almost embarrassed, “I’m not sure what I have-” he trailed off.

I shrugged, “why don’t we take a look.” I began opening the cabinet right across from me, it was empty minus a colander and two pots. I closed it and moved onto the next cabinet which was much like the first, bare with only a few essentials. I turned back to Kai, “you really don’t cook much do you?”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “not really no,” he paused to sniffle and subconsciously rubbed his nose with a finger, “I’m ashamed to admit that I tend to get take out on my way home from work.”

Finally, I opened a cabinet that contained food, “no shame in that.”

I paused as I took in all that he had, boxes of mac and cheese, ramen, and a variety of other snack-like food. “When I first moved in with Mia all she ate was take out,” I snagged a box of mac and cheese and moved on to his freezer.

“I just really love cooking and baking, it might be weird but I find it fun,” I opened the door and scanned his frozen food collection until I found what I was looking for.

“Cooking is just a skill I do..huh..snf..n’t seem to hih..huh..poh...poh..hah-SHIEEWW...ugh,” I glance behind me to see Kai’s face buried back into his elbow.

“Bless you!” I exclaim.

“Snf….sdf...ugh, exguse be,” Kai replied, “Cand you had be a dissue? Nexd do you.”

I turned back to the counter and saw a box of kleenex next to his salt and pepper shakers, grabbing a few I handed them over.

“Thangks,” he smiled at me before turning away and blowing his nose.

“It’s no problem!” I smiled, really no problem at all. “Also how does mac and cheese and chicken nuggets sound for dinner?” I asked, holding up the goodies I found.

Kai glanced at me his hands scrubbing his nose with the tissues, “are you sure?” he asked lowering the tissues and exposing an irritated pink nose, “we can order-”

“What are you talking about?” I interrupted, “mac and cheese and chicken nuggets are the food of champions,” I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now if you had dino nuggies then we’d have the food of the gods but,” I smiled at him, “guess we just gotta make do.”

Kai laughed, “Then I’ll just have to make sure I have dino nuggies next time.”

I felt a warmth in my chest, next time! There’s gonna be a next time! “Sounds like a plan. Now hand me a pot.”

“HePSHOO..ihh-HIXTCH-uh..sngk”

I looked over at Kai as he set his dinner down onto his coffee table and reached for his tissue box, “bless you.”

Kai crumpled the tissues into his hand and picked up his bowl of mac and cheese, “thanks.”

“Are you alright?” I asked, taking a bite of my chicken nugget. Kai had progressively gotten sneezier and not that I’m complaining but I was starting to get worried.

He sniffled and scrunched his nose, “I’m fine,”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Kai took one look at my face and smiled, “I’m sure,” he reached over and poked my forehead, “but thank you for being worried.”

I turned to look at my bowl, “of course I’m worried about you, I-” really like you, I shoveled my last bit of food into my mouth to muffle the last bit of what I said and set my bowl down. I glanced over at Kai who was watching me with a smile and I felt my face flush. His smile only grew bigger and he reached over to take my plate.

“I’m going to put these away, can you turn on the show? It’ll start soon.”

I nodded and snagged his remote while Kai took my bowl as well as his own and walked into his kitchen.

“HEPCHOO...heh..hih..giTCH-uh” he sneezed from the kitchen.

“Bless you!” I called out from my spot on his couch, scrolling through the channels until I found the station I was looking for.

“Thangk you!” Kai called back, his voice sounding congested. He made his way back and sat down next to me, grabbing another tissue from the box on his coffee table. He brought it up to dab at his nose, keeping it crumpled in his fist.

The show had begun playing on the television and Kai had taken out his phone, already tweeting out reactions and replying to fan tweets. My full attention however, was on Kai. The way he would subconsciously bring up the crumpled tissue and dab under his nose, or how after he sniffled, his nose would scrunch up, as if ensuring he chased away a tickle.

“huh...hih..hepTCHuh,”

“Bless you!” I exclaimed, nervously turning my attention to the show we were supposed to be watching. I hoped that he hadn’t noticed that I was staring.

With a wet sniffle Kai reached forward to the coffee table to grab another tissue, “thangk you, agaid.” He smiled at me.

I felt my face heat up, “you’re welcome.”

I was curious if he was suffering from allergies or a cold, but didn’t want to say anything. He had already said that he was fine and I didn’t really wanna push the issue. Kai blew his nose and the two of us fell into a comfortable silence as we watched the show. Kai sat relaxed in the corner of his couch, one hand holding his phone while the other rested on the back of the couch. I sat next to him with enough room that we weren’t quite touching.

Kai’s character on the show was just about to learn a new power when I felt his touch. I froze and turned my gaze back to him. I watched as he moved my legs so they draped across his lap. I was too shocked to say a word and Kai was completely absorbed in the show, his eyes never leaving the screen as his fingers grazed against my legs. His touch was warm and comforting, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. Just as much as I was surprised that he seemed to be touching me subconsciously. Kaito Scott did not seem like a cuddler. So I just watched him. Watched as his expressions changed depending on what happened in the episode, as his hands changed from rubbing my legs in a comforting motion, rising up to rub his irritated nose, or resting warm and still on my shins that lay in his lap.

I bit my lips as a smile made its way onto my face, as I gazed at the man next to me. I already knew it would be inevitable, but damn I was falling for him, hard.

#kaito and mallory #snzfic #snz ocs

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writing-refs-junkpile · 3 years

Text

Writer tips: custom shorthand for the win

Normally, I share grammar tips and writing resources on this blog - it is, after all, my Writing Refs Junkpile - but today, I’m stepping outside my literary box. Today, I’m sharing some of my custom shorthand and some advice for creating your own.

Put simply, I developed these symbols (and many others) to make writing notes and scheduling writing sessions faster, easier on my arthritic hands, and a little less obvious to anyone who might find my notes and snoop.

Behold, my scribbles:

Yep, it’s messy. I scanned these from sketch paper. The mess doesn’t matter. If you’ve given that a good look over, you’ll notice that these symbols have a few things in common.

All but two base symbols are written with two strokes or fewer; that’s two times you have to lift your pen from your paper as opposed to however many it takes to form the letters.

Each of these symbols is visually similar to certain mainstream letters, characters, symbols, or objects; this makes it easier to mentally associate symbol with meaning, which makes it easier to scribble them out as easily as writing.

These symbols can be written with several different writing instruments, whether you use a brush-tip, felt-tip, ballpoint, or rollerball pen, or a pencil. (Felt-tip pens, however, seem to win the race when it comes to ease and speed vs legibility.)

Without further ado, I’ll explain each of the various symbols you just saw.

Analyze Stats. Sometimes when I’ve got writer’s block, it can help to do a word, page, and character count and dates of a chapter. If I’m struggling with an unfinished chapter, checking what I have so far can be encouraging. If I’m still staring at a blank page with nothing more than a title, checking the previous chapter can be a nice kick in the pants. As for dates, those are mostly a way of mentally shaming myself into writing.

And etc. This single-stroke symbol is less complicated than it looks – a cursive + trailing into an e. It’s a quick, convenient way of saying “and whatever [said topic or plan] entails/includes” without writing it all out, and an easy way to leave wiggle-room in my plot notes.

Build notes. Single-stroke, based on musical notes and arrows. This tells me I haven’t yet translated the plot events into notes for the next (or current) chapter, and I need to do so before I can sit down and write them out.

Edit From (____ paragraphs/pages) back. This one looks like a doozy, but the first symbol is the only one that really matters. It’s a two-stroke - one, if you bring the bottom up to cross - and it’s based around an attached cursive ef; following are a symbol for and, (optional. I tend to skip it.) a number, and symbols for paragraphs or pages. Put simply, this says go back (chosen number of paragraphs/pages) and edit to end of written portion. Editing forward can be a great way of getting into the zone when you’ve stopped in the middle of a chapter or scene.

Etc, Etc, Etc. Four-stroke, built around three connected cursive e’s with periods underneath to remind me it’s short for etc. Basically, this symbol is a way of sassing myself from my notes, a reminder to not sweat the small details until I’m in front of the computer, and sometimes, it’s a way of connecting two pieces of a scene or dialogue together without writing out all the little nitpicky stuff between.

Find grammar. Two-stroke, built with the top of a ? and a g for the bottom half. Put simply, this means find proper grammar, spelling, punctuation, or terminology for the noted sentence or phrase. Had a brainfart while writing notes? Scribble this guy with what you think is correct, then you have a reminder to look it up and (if necessary) correct it later.

Flourish / Polish. Two single-stroke symbols, one loosely based on a stylized cursive f, and the other a cursive p which trails into a tail like a piece of scrollwork; both are needlessly fancy to further hint at their meaning. The first – flourish – means the noted section is as bland as oatmeal and reads like a vacuum cleaner manual; jazz it up with details, action, and color. The second – polish – means the noted chapter is complete; read through to see if it needs anything before editing. And speaking of editing…

Check spelling, grammar, punctuation, and edit. This single-stroke stands for a lot of words, but the appearance is simple: a checkmark that trails into an s.

Go from notes. Single-stroke, based around a g which trails into an arrow; since scanning this page, I realized that I wrote these up slightly wrong, so I have provided a badly-drawn correction to the left. (MS Paint. Gotta love it.) This symbol tells me I’ve already written up an outline for the next scene or chapter, I need to start writing from that outline, and I need to stop whining about it. As for when I don’t have notes…

Maybe start with ____________. Four-stroke, and one of the simplest: an ellipsis followed by a simple arrow pointing to the right. This is for when I don’t have an outline to work from, when I don’t have a solid (or even halfway solid) plan for the next writing session, and planning research sessions. What follows this symbol is an idea of what to try starting with...for instance, the first symbol. Analyzing my previous chapter stats is a good way to bully myself into getting the rough draft started.

Paragraphs/Pages. I’ll admit, I don’t use the first one very often. The first -paragraphs - is two-stroke, built like a combination of the mainstream symbol ¶ and a capital P; pages is a single-stroke combination of capital P and lowercase s. Lastly…

Research. Single-stroke, and a combination of an arrow (like a cursor) with a wrapping tail like an @. This means I need to do some manner of research for the next bit of writing, and is often followed by the topic I need to research.

To sum all that up:

Booyah. So much said, and so little written!

This custom shorthand has helped with my note-taking already, and I’m still designing new symbols to cut even more words down to quick wrist-wiggles. Now, you have everything you need to create your own, for whatever purposes you may have. Just remember the basics - be stingy with your strokes, choose lines, curves, and angles you find easy and comfortable to write, and use visual similarity to remind yourself of each symbol’s meaning when you see it.

Good luck, and remember to share the love with your writer and student friends!

#writing advice #studying #writing #shorthand #writers on tumblr #this stuff works

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sestra-inestro · 4 years

Text

Brat

Summary: Enemies to lovers fuck-buddies?

Pairings: fem!short!reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: 18+ smut, manhandling, a fuck load of swearing, violence, also kind long.

A/N: Just before y’all read anything, take note: JUNE IS NOT AN OC! Do not comment and message me telling me what not to tag on my stories. Read the description on my Main Masterlist to save yourself some unwanted opinions. Unless it is specified, like this fic is for example, June is not female, white, black, curly-haired, bald, short or tall and is up to interpretation. See it as if you were playing June in the movies/TV shows, you are June. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. There's plenty of Y/N fics. If you have something you want specifically mentioned then you request it, otherwise, you keep your thoughts on how I should tag my stories to yourself. Rant over.

To say you hated each other perfectly summed up your relationship with James Buchanan Fucking Barnes. Ever since he joined the Avengers he has had it out for you. But lately? All communication between you two was a screaming match and dirty looks.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” You yelled at him. Your scowl was starting to hurt your face but every time you looked at him you couldn’t help but snarl.

“Says you. You just had to fucking be in the wrong position. I saved your fucking life.” He pointed at you.

“I didn’t need you to save my life.” You threw your arms up. “I had a plan!”

“A shit plan that you didn’t even alert us about!”

“I told you I fucking had it and to stay put!”

Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha watched from the kitchen as you two screamed back and forth. Wanda walked in and sighed at the commotion.

“Are they still arguing?” She sighed as she sat down.

“Yeah.” Steve took a sip from his beer and continued to watch them.

“What about this time?” Wanda asked.

“Tony asked if they could hang a picture up on the wall above the TV. Bucky held the ladder while June climbed it.” Steve explained. A simple task that they can’t even get through without arguing.

“It was like death-wobble city. They were yelling at each other and then the ladder fell. I think he accidentally hurt her when he caught her.” Clint said as he, also, took a sip of his beer.

“Fuck you, Barnes! You did nothing but fucking injure me!” You screamed at him.

“Yep.” Sam sighed.

“You think they’ll ever get along?” Wanda asked them.

“Yeah. They just need to fuck.” Natasha said, carelessly.

Everyone turned away from your bickering with Bucky and looked at Nat. She looked around at the shocked faces.

“What?”

“What did you just say?” Steve questioned her.

“I said they just need to fuck.” Nat shrugged.

“Really?” Wanda looks back towards you both, still bickering.

“Yep.” Nat leaned forward to explain her theory. “All that pent up anger is directed at each other. Clearly, fighting and arguing is not helping thy situation, only making it worse. If they get physical and hurt each other, that could just make them hate each other more.” She gestured to you both. “If they tire each other out by fucking, they let out all that pent up anger, and are taking out on each other.” Nat leaned back in her seat and raised her beer. “They just need to fuck.”

Clint hooted and clinked his beer bottle with hers.

Steve rolled his eyes while Sam and Wanda considered it to be a good idea and nodded.

“Cap, set that up.” Clint spoke.

Steve’s head snapped towards him. “Why me?”

“Because you set up the missions.” Clint explained. “Give them one that’s bound to make them fuck.”

Steve groaned. “Can you please stop saying that?”

“It’s a way of life, Steve.” Nat shrugged. “It’ll get them both off their rage kicks and out of their dry spells. There will be a lot less of this,” she pointed to where you both were now walking away from each other but still throwing up middle fingers at each other. “And more of this.” She made a sex gesture with her hands.

“Oh, god.” Steve groaned again and ran his hands over his face.

He definitely would love to see you both shut up and be nice to one another just once.

“Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’m sending you all on a three-month mission with them both.”

“Who are you talking about?” You asked, entering the kitchen with a sour face.

“No one.” They all said at the same time, avoiding eye contact and drinking their beers.

You woke up completely unbothered today. You were going on a mission for a few weeks, which means you’d be away from Bucky for a while. Peace and quiet for a while. You had your duffel bag thrown over your shoulder as you marched onto the quinjet. You threw your bag in the luggage area before taking a seat at the pilots’ seat, strapping in and waiting for your teammate. You still didn’t know who you paired with but you didn’t care.

Setting up the flight controls and logging in the location, you pulled on the headset just as someone stomped onto the jet

You turned your head and annoyance ran through your body. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You groaned and leaned back in the seat.

“Oh fuck off.” Bucky grumbled upon seeing you.

He threw his bag to the luggage area and trudged over to the co-pilot’s seat and you punched the numbers on the control panel, calling Steve.

“Hey, you haven’t left yet?” Steve answered.

“No, Steve. What the fuck?” You said exasperated through the speaker.

“Yeah, what the fuck? You paired me with her? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky butted in.

“First of all, stop swearing at me.” You just knew Steve was holding up a finger. “Second of all, you two need to get over whatever childishness is going on and just fucking put up with it.” You and Bucky both leaned back from the speaker in shock at his words.

“Get the mission done, and don’t come back until you two can act like mature adults.” Steve hissed and hung up.

You and Bucky sat in silence and shock for a second.

He was right, you and Bucky had been fighting a lot worse than usual lately. You couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as each other and now you had to go on an undercover mission together.

This was going to be shit.

You sighed before powering up the jet and closing the hanger doors.

“Fine.” You mumble to yourself.

Bucky pulls on his headset and you two ignore each other the entire ride.

Once you landed, you both grabbed your bags and headed to the hotel that had been set up by Nat.

“Two rooms under Rushman.” You said to the clerk.

He checks the computer and frowns. “Sorry, there’s only one room booked.”

You frowned at him. “No there should be two.”

“I’m sorry but there’s only one registered under Rushman.”

You groaned.

“Well is there any other rooms available?” You felt like you were going to die.

“Sorry. All our other rooms are occupied.” The clerk offered you the keys to the room.

“For fuck sake.” Bucky grumbled before grabbing his bag from the ground and you snatched the key card from the clerk’s hand.

He flinched at your harsh movement and frowned at you.

Despite your frustration towards him, he wishes you a good night as you follow Bucky to the room.

You walked up to the room and unlocked it quickly, the sooner you can get in the sooner it’s over.

Opening the door, you sigh. “At least there are two beds.”

“Yeah, god forbid I have to share a bed with you.” Bucky pushes passed to enter the room and you throw the bird to his back.

He went straight to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

You moved to the bed furthest away from the front door and started unpacking your stuff. You brought minimal products, keeping your luggage to the undercover clothing you need, weapons, your uniform, and pajamas.

You quickly got into your pajamas and slipped into the bed, turning away from the bathroom.

A few moments after, Bucky opened the bathroom door, dressed in his sleep clothing.

“Aren’t you going to shower?” He questioned as soon as he saw you already in bed.

“No.” You mumbled.

Bucky huffs in return and shuts off the lights you hear his rustling bed covers before silence, letting you finally drift off the sleep.

The next day you woke up before Bucky and decided to make the most noise you could. You knew he would be able to hear you when you got up, so to annoy him further you slammed doors, threw your bag and turned up your phone so the notifications echoed through the room.

You were showered and typing away on the Stark Laptop obnoxiously when Bucky finally growled and threw back his blankets.

“Are you just trying to piss me the fuck off?” Bucky glared at you with disheveled hair and the grumpiest face you’ve ever seen.

“If I am it looks like it’s working.” You said, unbothered by his mood and still looking at the laptop.

“Fucking bitch.” He mumbled under his breath before marching to the bathroom and slamming the door.

The rest of the day consisted of you both ignoring each other until it was time to go to work.

You stepped out of the bathroom in a flowing cream-white dress that ruched down the sides and led the slit down the side of your leg with little sparkles through all the fabric, your figure curved as it was all held together with a bodysuit underneath. Your heels complimented your dress and legs so much that Bucky couldn’t help but stare at you as you collected your faked invitation from your bed.

You turn to look at him dressed in his dress shirt, dress pants, and a tux jacket. You couldn’t help but think he was actually very hot in his clothing, and you also noticed him staring at your body.

You smirked. “See something you like, Barnes.”

Bucky looks up to your eyes quickly as he knows he’s caught and screws up his face. “Just surprised you can actually look like a lady.”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “Well, fuck being a lady. You’re no gentleman either.” You shouldered him as you walked passed him.

He begrudgingly followed you out the door to the hire flashy car to take you to the party.

You both sat in a high tension silence until you arrived at the party.

It was a big mansion filled with fancy people. You don’t know why Tony couldn’t be sent for this. It’s basically his scene. The driver opened both of your doors and Bucky walked around to your side and offered his arm.

The charade is on and you both walk up the entry stairs and presented your faked invitations. The clerk nodded and opened the door for you both.

With your hand woven around Bucky’s arm, you both enter to see many people mingling and holding little champagne glasses of bubbly.

“I see our guy.” You say as you swipe a glass from a passing tray. A guy amongst the crowd people that stood out with his white hair was smiling and drinking while conversing.

“Okay,” Bucky said as you broke apart. The earpiece keeping you connected. “I’ll get behind him to stay near.”

“Approaching target.” You confirmed.

You put on your best salutary saunter over to him, holding your glass in your hand and doing your best to capture his eyes.

And it worked.

He spotted you on your way over to him and turned his attention to you.

“Why, hello there beautiful.” He looked down to you as you reached him, offering you a wide grin. His white hair almost blinded you as it shone it the lights.

“Hello, handsome.” You said in a low voice. You heard Bucky grunt at your words but you ignore him.

“I don’t recall ever meeting you. I know I would definitely remember you.” His eyes traveled down your body.

“Well,” You jutted out your hip and rested on it. “I guess that gives you the opportunity to get to know me all over again.” You ran your finger over his shoulder and gave him your best seductive smile.

You spent the next two hours with him, joined at his arm. Bucky followed close behind and monitored the whole situation while doing his best to blend in.

You managers to get the target pretty drunk, to the point where he kept running his hand down your back to your backside.

He leans down and whispers in your ear: “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private, so I can get to know you much better.”

Inside you were cringing hard as his white hair tickled your skin.

You turned to look at him and gave him a smile. “Sure.” You agreed.

He immediately pulled you across the room and into a dark hallway that was isolated. You both could still hear the music from the party and people talking but he didn’t care as he slammed you against the wall and buried his head in your neck. You felt him growl against your skin as he tried to take off your dress but you distracted his hands by linking your hands together and pulled him closer.

You reached down to your thigh holster and pulled out the sedative to bring to his neck. You were about to puncture his skin when someone yelled.

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” You both pulled apart and you quickly hid the sedative in between your breasts.

“What?” You pushed the target away from you and you frowned at Bucky.

“What the hell are you doing with him right now?” Bucky stormed up to both of you, absolutely fuming.

“Is this you’re boyfriend?” The target asked. He raised his arms in defense as Bucky glared at him.

“Beat it old man.” He snarled and the target didn’t argue and ran.

“Um, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked him, your head was full of confusion.

“You weren’t listening to anything I was saying.” Bucky pointed down to you.

“Are you serious that dictating that you think I’m gonna listen to every word you say when I have to target literally on me? I couldn’t even hear you.” You snapped back.

Bucky grumbled something under his breath and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of the mansion and to the car. When you got back to the hotel, he dragged you all the way back up to the room.

Bucky opens the door and throws his grip on your arm into the room before him. You stumble in your heels into the room, catching your balance and turning around to glare at him.

“What the fuck, James?” You growl.

“You wanna act like a brat. I’ll fucking treat you like a brat.” He slammed the door shut and turned to you with a dark look in his eyes. “When are you going to stop?”

“You’re the reason I fucking started to begin with! You ruined the mission!” You said with irritation. “And there’s no way I’m acting like a brat.”

“Maybe I should fuck the brat out of you.” Bucky stepped forward, loosening his tie.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

A dark smirk dawned his face as he stepped closer to you, your body just centimeters away from his, but your stubbornness didn’t falter.

“You’ve got a big mouth for such a small girl.” He said looking down at you.

You screwed your face up and went to swear at him but he cut you off before he could. His lips smashed into yours with an unloving and rough pace. His hands grasp a firm grip on your forearms, pulling you against him and his lips mold to yours.

You’re shocked as your body stiffens at his actions, but you wake up and you start to resist his antics. You squirm yourself out of his grip and push him away from you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is evident with shock. Your eyes are wide as he goes to approach you again.

“You said you’d like to see me try and fuck the brat out of you.” He says with a shrug. “Maybe you shouldn’t open your mouth if you can’t handle it.”

You raise your brows. “Oh, you think I can’t handle you?”

“That’s what you’re telling me right now.” He says with a smirk.

“Fuck you.” You pull him back to you by the back of his neck, his lips smashing against yours once again.

You start to pash him roughly as he did before, you can feel his teeth against you and his hand’s wind around your waist. His hands are firm against your body and pulling you flush against him.

He pulls back for a second. “I don’t think you could fuck me good enough.” He says with a first smirk.

He was trying to aggravate you. And it was working.

“You wanna bet?”

“Don’t bet,” he pushed you against the wall, slamming your back into it. “Prove it.”

You pushed him back and turned around, pushing his shoulders into the wall this time.

“Afraid I’ll fuck you better than you could fuck me?” You smirked, looking up at him and running your hand down his hip and almost touching his length before he growled and grasped arms again.

This time he slammed you into the wall with your chest against it and your arms behind you back and his mouth against your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here tomorrow.” His voice was husky and low in your ear, promising to dick you down all night.

He pushed his pelvis against your ass and you felt his hard length. He was big, really big.

You moan at the thought of him inside you.

“You feel what you did to me?” He whispered on your ear, grinding his hips into your backside. “You in this fucking dress all night, thinking it’s funny to play around all night when you should be working. I should fucking punish you.”

“God, yes.” You moan out and push back against the roll of his hips.

“I’m going to nail you into the mattress.” He groans and your ass moves against his clothes cock.

You sigh in frustration, the dry grinding no more arousing you than annoying you now. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

At your words, Bucky lets out an animalistic growl. His hand wraps around you and grabs the front of your throat, twirls you around to stand in front of him away from the wall and launches you onto the bed with force.

You squeal and bounce as you hit the bed. You watch as Bucky stalks towards, ripping his tie and jacket off his bulked body and tossing them to the floor.

The action sends waves of arousal to your core and the look in his eyes is primal.

He kneels on the bed and grabs your ankles.

He runs his hands up the length of your legs resting at your hips. Hooking his fingers under the band of your thong, he pulls it over your hips and down your legs, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy.

He pulls them around your heels and flings them across the room before he grasps your ankles again and pulls you to lie flat on your back.

“Your so wet already.” His husky voice rumbles as he pulls your knees to bend over his shoulders.

You gasp out as his mouth latches onto your core, lapping at your soaking folds fast.

You lean up on your elbows and pull the slit of your dress aside to see his mouth buried in your cunt, his blue piercing eyes looking into yours as he eats what you give.

“Fuck yes,” you throw your head back as his tongue circles around your clit. You reach down and push him closer by the back of his head and grind your hips against his mouth. “Go faster.”

He growls but meets your demands as his tongue swirls around your clit at record speed, making you gasp and your hips stutter.

“Oh my god, Buck.” You breathe out. You can feel his flesh hand circling your entrance, excitement kicking in and you pull him closer with your legs.

Your movements annoyed him. He detached his mouth from your cunt and sat up.

“How are you annoying even when I’m trying to fuck you?” Buck glared at you, his mouth wet with your arousal.

“Trying to fuck me?” You scoffed. “You’re going too slow, when are you actually going to get to fucking me?”

Bucky growls at your words and grabs the top of the slit of your dress and rips upwards.

You gasp and glare at him. “Do you know how much that fucking dress costs?”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He snarls and rips it off your body.

“You fucking-“

“Shut up.” He crushed your lips against hi as his hands rush to pull off all of your clothing.

You feel his hands everywhere. You start to feel dizzy as you run your hands over his broad back. You need to feel his skin against yours and you claw at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him.

Bucky moves his lips from yours to your jaw and to travel down your body to stop at your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple as he balances his weight just above you and unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders.

You moan as his hot skin lays against yours. Bucky’s hand reaches up to cup your breasts in his hands as he sucks on your nipples.

“Gosh,” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair.

He lets go of your breasts and kisses back up your throat and captures your lips again.

Bucky’s hips start to grind into your bare core, the fabric of his dress pants is rough against your folds. You groan out in pain and pleasure. His length is rock hard and very prominent against you.

Your hand travels down his body to his fly and belt. Your fingers fumble to undo his pants, Bucky disconnects your lips to rest his forehead against yours and look down at your hands undoing his pants.

You get the belt off and unzip his pants, using your feet to push them down with his briefs to his ankles.

He reaches down to grasp his length, pumping it a few times before thrusting straight into your wet core.

You moan in shock as his cock enters you. He immediately feels you contracting around him and it makes him groan.

You walls flutter as he sets a strong pace, pounding you into the mattress like he promised you.

“Fuuuuuck, Bucky.” You whine shakily as your body bounces up and down on the bed.

“You take me so well. Fucking hell.” He growls as he feels you clench with a groan of your own.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs clenching at his hips. “Harder.”

Bucky makes good on your demands and pulls back to slam into you harder.

Your skin slapping against his echoes through the room and you can’t help but grunt each time he thrusts into you.

“Oh my god.” You pant as his length repeatedly jams at your g-spot. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Come on my cock.” Bucky grunts. “Come on, June.”

At his words, your hips begin to stutter as you feel yourself let go to his cock. You can’t help the loud and long moan that leaves your mouth as you grip his shoulders, trying to calm your body of your tremors. Your orgasm rips through you and Bucky can feel you clench down on his like a vice. Your warm and wet walls quivering but holding their grip on you, triggering his orgasm and he spills into you.

You sigh out at the feel of his cum releasing inside of you. He stills his hips against you and throws back his head, releasing a roar as his orgasm rips through his body, before collapsing on top of you.

The weight of him took the breath out of you so you push him off to roll onto the small space next to you. Both of you panting and a thin layer of sweat glistened over both of your bodies.

“I don’t think you fucked the brat out of me,” You said between breaths. “But I haven’t had a good dick down in a while.”

Bucky turned his head to look at you. “You think I’m done with you.”

You looked at him and frowned.

Bucky smirked and grabbed you roughly and pulled you on top of him, his length hard between your legs once again.

“You’re gonna ride me until I tell you to stop.” His words rumbled through his chest before pulling you into another hard kiss.

Your body was completely spent as you lay completely naked on the bed. Bucky leaned on his elbow across the bottom of the bed at your feet.

You both had gone three more times. The sheets had been ripped off the corners and the covers had been pushed to the floor.

You stretched out your legs, pointing your toes. The tip of your toes grazed Bucky’s arm. You looked down and traces along his soft skin with your toes. Bucky grasps your foot as it tickles him and brings the tops of your toes to his mouth, press a soft kiss amongst them.

A small smile graced your lips as you felt him caress your ankle, his hand traveling up your leg. You felt eh bed shift and he got onto all fours and climbed up the length of your body again to rest next to you and look at you.

“Hi.” He says with a smile.

“Hi.” You return his smile.

“You think I fucked the brat out of you now?” He asks and wiggles his eyebrows.

You sigh dramatically as you pretend to think. You felt no more irritation towards him. His face no longer annoyed you because it could, you honestly just felt like you were much more content. “Yeah, yeah I think you did.” You gave him a soft small smile.

“Good.” He leans down and kisses your forehead before gathering you up to lay on his chest and wrapped in his arms.

“You’re so small.” He mumbled against your hair.

“You’re so warm.” You mumbled back and you nuzzled into his chest, closing your eyes readying for a night of much better sleep than last night.

Natasha was right, you two just needed to fuck. And fuck hard you did.

#bucky barnes x reader #because it is!#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader x angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader angst #enemies to lovers #fuck buddies #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut oneshot

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