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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match - Part 6

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your decision.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: There’s a little bit of smut in here, not too filthy though I guess???

A/N: VOILA NO ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER, only tension teehee anyway I hope this doesn’t disappoint and I am looking forward to seeing everyone’s rage about this part lmfaoooo

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

The last time you lost sleep was back in your days at the university, when you were working on your thesis. And that was years ago so now that you were wide awake at two in the fucking morning, it was frustrating you.

What was even more frustrating was the fact that you were up because of a guy, and not just any guy— Bucky Barnes.

You didn't know whether you made the right decision of rejecting him like that, without even giving the relationship a damn chance. But you were right, weren't you? That making it official with courtship was going to make your corporate life a living hell.

Perhaps you were overthinking?

You groaned out loud and sat up on your bed, grabbing your phone from the night stand and opening up your messaging app.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things that I said.

Delete, delete, delete.

Can we talk again?

Delete, delete, delete.

I already miss you.

"Really, now?" you chuckled to yourself, albeit sarcastically.

When did you ever chase a guy? Never in you entire life did you put your walls down for a fucking guy. What would make Bucky an exception? Sure, he was rich as fuck and handsome as hell but those wouldn't give him an immunity from your pride.

Throwing your phone under your pillow, you decided to stand by your verdict about keeping things professional between you and Bucky.

The universe seemed to hate you because aside from losing sleep, you also forgot to set your alarms and now you were running late for the mancom meeting. You really had to confront Bucky like that a day before the meeting, huh?

By the time you reached the conference room, the meeting was already in progress. Heads turned to you upon your arrival, the entire room silent as you whispered your apologies. When you looked around, you realized that the only seat available was the one next to Bucky.

Great, just great!

You could feel his eyes on you as you carefully made your way towards him, mumbling another apology for your tardiness before sitting down. You knew how much Bucky hated it when people were late, whether for a meeting or for a rendezvous. The last time you were late, he denied you of your orgasm when he fingered you in his car.

Was he thinking of the same thing now? If not for last night's discussion, you would probably be bent down on his desk by lunch time. You cleared your throat and squeezed your legs uncomfortably, a gesture that Bucky noticed right off the bat.

You crossed your legs and focused your attention on the presentation until you noticed what Bucky was doing beside you. You tried to be discreet when you checked him out through your peripheral vision; he was leaning back against his seat with his legs wide apart. He seemed to be paying attention to the presentation but then he started stroking his chin in a certain way that made you remember all the times he did that whenever he had his eyes on you.

"Mister Barnes? What do you think about this suggestion?" the head of operations asked.

Bucky hummed lowly as he stroked his lower lip, nodding his head in approval before saying in a rough voice, "I like it."

"I like it."

"Like what?" you asked innocently, lifting a curious brow at Bucky when you entered his office one night in a tight fitting skirt with a slit that showed off the garter of your stockings.

You knew that it was going to drive Bucky insane if you walked around the office wearing something so teasing like that. To hell with the HR, you actually received a memo for wearing such at a workplace but whatever. The reward from Bucky would surely be more than enough to make this decision worth it.

"Playing coy now, are we?" Bucky asked, standing up from his seat and then walking over to you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bucky." you teased.

Bucky smirked and kept his eyes on you when he knelt down in front of you, his rough palms sliding against the skin of your thighs before tugging at the edge of your stockings.

"I'll show you what I'm talking about." he said before he bunched up your skirt, licking a stripe against your lace-clad pussy.

You exhaled heavily at the memory and shook your head. Fuck no, you weren't going to give in! You weren't even sure whether Bucky was intentionally teasing you. Nope, definitely not giving in so easily.

You survived the entire day, despite being on the receiving end of Bucky's subtle teasing. That motherfucker was testing you alright, you were damn sure of it. He really went to the pantry during lunch, when you were washing your mug at the sink. And he had the audacity to stand behind you, pretending to be reaching for something from the cupboards.

Janet the snitch was there too! Thank fuck she was preoccupied with her salad and didn't notice when Bucky pressed his crotch against your ass, his breath fanning against your neck when he whispered "Excuse me." in that delicious, rough voice of his.

Thinking that you were finally free to head home, you started gathering your things until you received an e-mail from none other than Bucky. It was a little past seven in the evening already and you've submitted all your reports earlier. What does he want now?

Come see me in my office. Now.

Regards, Bucky Barnes

A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your entire body going cold and you weren't sure whether you should be nervous or excited. Or aroused, even. You weren't going to lie but you sort of hoped that his e-mail contained another dick pic again, something to let you know that everything was fine between the two of you.

Who were you kidding though, you were the one who asked for this set-up.

You adjusted your skirt and went straight to the elevator, counting the seconds until it reached Bucky's floor. Every step you took towards his office felt heavier and heavier as you neared his door. What does he want?! You couldn't think of anything that he needed to talk to you about.

"Shit. Okay, bitch you got this." you mumbled to yourself before knocking.

Bucky didn't even tell you to come in, he just opened the door and left it ajar as he went back to his seat behind his desk. He seemed agitated but god did he look good. You really needed to get a grip of yourself.

"You need anything, Mister Barnes?" it felt strange to address him like that.

He heaved out a sigh and shrugged, "I'm very disappointed in this report." he said, slamming the folder on top of his desk before looking up at you.

"I don't understand. I followed every instruction and even included charts to make it easier to understand." you explained, slightly offended that he was questioning your hard work.

You worked hard on that report, and he knew how much. Was he power tripping you now?

"That's the thing, you followed every instruction. Sometimes you have to make certain changes, that doesn't mean it's automatically wrong as long as the outcome is the same." Bucky explained.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was insinuating something and you knew exactly what it was. You preferred not to focus on it and straightened up, trying to play it cool.

"I don't get it." you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky heaved out sigh, "Come take a look. I'll show you where you went wrong." he said, raising his eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

Oh no. Oh fucking no. He was giving you the look. You tried not to falter and maintained your professional behavior. Slowly, you walked around his desk until you stood beside him.

"See this part? Too detailed, I don't need to know about this. I just want to see the results." Bucky explained casually.

"Another thing is the graph you made. It's good, but again, too many details. You see this?" Bucky asked, glancing up at you.

You squinted your eyes, not wanting to stand too close to Bucky. Even from where you were, his perfume was invading your senses. It reminded you of all the times that scent was all that you could smell, especially whenever Bucky was on top of you, fucking your brains out. Or whenever he took you from behind, his face buried into your neck and—

"Are you listening?" Bucky asked.

You cleared your throat, "Yes." you immediately responded.

"Here, take a look at what I'm talking about." Bucky said, casually placing a hand on the small of your back as you bent down to look at your report closely.

It's as if everything happened so fast. You were trying to see what Bucky was talking about when you heard his chair screech against the floor, followed by his strong hands gripping your waist, pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You gasped out loud when you felt his hard cock against your ass. A slight whimper slipped past your lips when Bucky slightly moved, thrusting his hips upward while his hands on your waist kept you still.

"Bucky, fuck I..." you panted.

And then suddenly, the contact was gone and Bucky was pulling you away from him as he stood up. A shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he feigned innocence.

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot. We're supposed to be professional now. That's what you wanted, right?" he asked mockingly, shaking his head and then fixing his suit.

You stood there, gawking at him incredulously at the stunt that he just pulled on you. Did he really just...?

What the fuck?

"Anyway, I want the revised report by my table end of the day tomorrow." he said oh so casually, as if he didn't just pull you down to sit on his fucking lap while he had a damn erection.

He sat back down and continued with his shit as you stood there, disappointed (at yourself actually) and just feeling like a fucking fool.

"I can't believe you just did that." you softly said, turning around to leave.

"Just say you want me and this will all be over." Bucky said.

You looked back at him with a scowl and saw how smug he was staring at you. His lips curled up into a grin, eyes glinting with mischief. You wanted to kiss that fucking smirk off his face, maybe sit on it and ride it until he's out breath, until the skin on your inner thighs burned from how his scruff was scratching against it.

But again, you were too proud to do that.

"Thank you, Mister Barnes. I'll see you tomorrow."

What do you call it when a girl is left high and dry? Is there a female version for having blue balls? You needed to know because that was something you've been going through for two weeks now.

Two fucking weeks.

Since that night in Bucky's office, things have gotten worse for you. Bucky wanted you to give in first and damn, he was giving it his fucking all when it comes to making you cave. The man even texted you a shirtless photo of him at the gym. By accident, he said.

And here you thought that the both of you were going to be professional moving forward.

Bucky always teased you whenever he could, made sure that you'd be reminded of the times you spent together. Whether it was with how he spoke or looked at you, he was subtle but he went all out. One time during a meeting, Bucky started to play with his fucking mouse. His middle finger doing things to his scroll wheel, moving back and forth all the while he was staring at you with a sleazy grin.

As if you needed any more reminder how much his fingers felt so much better against your cunt as compared to your own.

Friday came quickly and you couldn't be more grateful for it. It had been very busy at the office and Bucky was edging you even without having the need to touch you. You needed a break from him, needed some time to yourself and rethink about the certain decisions you made.

You stood by the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor when Mark approached you.

"Been a hectic week huh?" he asked, adjusting the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder.

You sighed, "Very hectic, thank goodness the week is over." you said with a chuckle.

"Any plans for the night?" Mark asked, turning to you.

You shook your head, "Not really. You?"

Mark smiled widely at you, "No plans either. But I do remember you owe me a night at the bar." he reminded you.

You mentally facepalmed because fuck, you totally forgot about that. Mark wasn't so bad actually, he was kind and seemed like a lot of fun to hang out with. You just...you just weren't attractive to him.

Maybe you should give it a try? Just to keep your mind off of Bucky even for a while. That man was driving you insane, honestly.

"Of course, yeah. I remember." you said with an awkward laugh.

"Do you want to go tonight?" he asked at the same time the elevator doors opened.

Lo and behold, Bucky Barnes was inside as well. Fucking hell.

"Mister Barnes." Mark greeted him before gesturing for you to step inside first.

You saw the look that Bucky gave both you and Mark. Suddenly, hanging out with Mark didn't seem like a good idea anymore. You prayed that Mark wouldn't bring it up anymore, at least, while Bucky was inside the elevator.

It felt like you were being ushered into the pits of hell when you stepped inside. Even with Mark's presence, you felt nervous being around Bucky. God knows what this man could do when provoked.

"Anyway, how about tonight?" Mark repeated his question, much to your dismay.

Bucky was standing behind the both of you and yet you could feel his eyes digging holes against the back of your head. He was waiting for your response.

"Come on, you promised me a date." Mark just had to imply.

Bucky coughed and Mark turned to him all of a sudden, "You ever been to the bar down the block, Mister Barnes?" he asked.

"Yes." Bucky curtly responded.

"They serve the best drinks, right? So come on, let me take you there. You won't regret it. What do you think, Mister Barnes?"

Mister Barnes will fucking whoop your ass, Mark, you thought to yourself. You suddenly started sweating bullets, feeling your armpits dampen beneath your blouse because jesus christ, was this really happening? You just wanted for the ground to swallow you up. Should you pretend to faint instead? Just to get out of this awkward situation?

"Yeah, a promise is a promise. Why don't you let Mike take you out tonight?" Bucky said, stepping in between you and Mark.

Mark made a face, "It's actually Mark, Mister Barnes."

Bucky though, kept his attention on you. His expression unreadable but his jaw was tensed. You were so fucked. And not in a good way. He was trying so hard to stay calm but when you glanced down, his hands were balled into fists.

"What do you say to that date with Martin?" Bucky asked again.

Mark lifted a finger, "Mark." he chimed in again.

"Yeah, whatever Michael." Bucky waved him off with his hand before turning back to you. "So, what do you say?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked past Bucky's shoulder to check on Mark, he didn't seem suspicious though. He looked hopeful, actually. But you pitied him because he just made it to Bucky's list of employees to keep an eye on. Aside from Janet, of course.

"I...um..." Fuck it.

"Yeah, okay. A date it is then." you awkwardly said, forcing out the driest laugh you ever produced in your entire life.

Mark excitedly pumped his fist in the air, "Great! Thank you, Mister Barnes. Guess she just needed a little push." he said.

Bucky feigned a smile and nodded, taking a step back from you. "A little push. Yeah, I guess so."

Finally, the elevators reached the ground floor and you were ready to sprint out of it when Bucky said his parting words.

"You enjoy your date with Marty now. Totally nothing unprofessional about dating a co-worker." Bucky told you and before the elevator doors closed, you saw the scowl that appeared on his face.

Shit.

"Mister Barnes is acting weird, don't you think?" Mark asked as the both of you walked out of the building.

You forced a smile and walked ahead of Mark, "Definitely not weird. You know what? I badly need a drink or two, an entire bottle of tequila maybe so let's just go now."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed and the message that showed up made you want to stop in the middle of the street, lay down on your back and await your demise.

You're playing a dangerous game. Well, two can play at that.

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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stuckybarton · 3 years ago

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mafia! bucky finding out someone from his group disrespected you.

Hmmm, protective! bucky is a jam i want to explore!!

Warning: Sexual Harassments. Profanities Character Death. Violence. Guns. A brief description of shooting a gun at someone. Blood. Brief mention of sexual content

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist || Requests Are Open

Bucky had three rules he expects everyone that worked for him should follow

If he wants something done, you don't give excuses, you show results

You want to rat out to the police or to a rival? Expect a rat shoved down your throat when he finds you. if he can't find you? well expect a loved on of yours to be given the treatment in place of you

But the most important among the three was punishable with death; no one fucks with his woman.

But there was one man, who was either too arrogant or too stupid to take this rule seriously.

He was named Brock.

He got on everyone's nerves, including Bucky, Sam, and even the constantly patient Steve.

The only reason Bucky hadn't placed a bullet on his head was because of how good he was at his job.

Brock Rumlow was good with weapons, he knew how to do deals in the Black Market. He know where to find a good deal and what was the best weapon in the current market.

But everyone hated him with a fiery passion. Including you.

It started off harmless. Being called Bucky's old lady.

Then it got worst from there.

The man was ballsy enough to let anyone and everyone that would listen to him know that he could seduce you into betraying Bucky for him--when it was far from the truth.

Sam and Steve had tried convincing you to tell Bucky about it, but you brushed it off. No need to have Bucky ruining business because of you.

But then it got worse...

More than you had ever thought it should be. He started with holding onto your hand, which you were quick to jerk away from him.

Hands that were testing with your hands had somehow made their way around your waist or in your ass, every single time, you jerked away from him. Moved closer to anyone in the room that you trusted your safety more than with Brock.

When his touches--or how he embarrassingly called seduction failed. He did what any misogynist would do call you every name in the book.

From a whore to a slut that gets passed on between Bucky, Steve, and Sam. You had freely heard the man called you every name in the book and every single time, it made you fear the man even more and had you constantly in the presence of your often not-necessary guards.

But among the idiocy he was capable of spewing, never once did he say those words in front of your boyfriend. He didn't have the balls to say it to the man. Even with all the bravado and swagger he had spewed of stealing you away from him. He did not have the balls to tell Bucky those words.

But Bucky wasn't an idiot, unlike what Brock would believe.

He had ears everywhere, especially in the form of his two closes friends and partner.

He was just waiting for you say the words and he can throw caution to the wind and just shoot him in the temple.

But you didn't.

No matter how shitty it was for him to watch you endure it, he wanted you to say the words and he will do it without an ounce of hesitation.

You were, after all, more important that this fucking business of his.

"you alright?"

it had been his daily question every night at the two of you laid naked in your bed.

you were deep in thoughts, most likely finding yet another reason to stay as far away from the asshole as you humanely could without ringing alarm bells.

"yeah." you assured, but it had been so much of a lie at this point. bucky knew it, you knew bucky knew it but you didn't want to ruin his business.

"just say the word."

How often you had heard bucky say those words but never once have you put that power you held to the test.

"i'm fine." you assured once again, kissing him and distracting him with other things for the rest of the night.

famous last words.

hearing Brock scouting for men that could stab Bucky in the back, it had been your time to intervene and cut his bullshit.

"what are you gonna do? tell your sugar daddy about?"

you were seeing red. it was far from the truth, you refused to have bucky give you anything unless it was for a special occasion, but the way he sounded it off, it was as if you were a gold digger.

you rebuked him for it, only earning a laugh from the man.

"why don't you had back to your daddy's office and keep his dick wet with your mouth or your cunt, that's the only thing you're good for anyways."

and you snapped.

in front of a handful of bucky's men, the always calm and collected woman of Bucky Barnes had snapped. Punching brock straight in the nose and breaking it in the process.

your knuckles hurt but it was so satisfying to hear the sound of breaking bones and the scarlet that now painted the man's nose in the process.

who knew bucky's self-defense training would pay off.

"you stupid bitch"

he took hold of your hair in a vice grip making you wince in pain and at the sight of him ready to slap you, you closed your eyes and waited for the hit to come--but it never did.

the bang had echoed in the room and the pained scream from brock.

opening your eyes, you had seen the reason for his screams, a clean bullet hole now passed through his palm. a clean shot, that you knew perfectly well who was capable of firing.

turning to the fury that bucky was known for.

"i had three rules when you work for me."

another bang at directed at the man's knee earning a cry from the fallen man as he grasp at the places he was shot in.

blood was slowly pooling around him.

you didn't feel pity for him like you had been for the rest of the people that bucky had done the same to.

you didn't feel pity for brock he deserved everything he was getting.

"number one rule: when i say jump you say how fucking high"

two more gunshots were heard, both directed at the man's two feet.

you had watched the pain no longer registering in the man's features as he was slowly dying from the lost of blood.

"number two rule; betray me in any shape or form, you will leave to see another day, but you'd have a rat shoved down your throat in the process."

both shoulders were shot and only a gasp could be heard from Brock at this point.

"and number three, by far the most important of all the rules i've given you."

you watched Bucky empty the rest of his bullets onto Brock's groin area until it was nothing more than a mush and you had to turn your attention away from the sight and towards the terror that lingered in the men present.

brock was dead, from the sounds of it. and bucky had placed his point across to everyone else.

"you don't get to look, you don't get to touch, you don't even get to fucking breath the same direction of my girl. hurt her in any way like this piece of shit, i will empty my pistol all over your body for everyone to see."

in the silence of the room, your eyes turned to where Steve and Sam stood. a part of you knew it was there doing, how bucky had been able to save you before you could get hurt at the hands of the dead man.

" i expect this will be the last time i have to remind you of this. the next time i see anyone close to Y/N, expect the bullet in your head."

when no one said a word, it angered bucky more.

"do i make myself clear?" his voice boomed and a chorus of fearful yes from the everyone was heard.

"clean this shit up."

and that was the last thing you heard bucky had said as he had dragged you with him back to your shared bedroom.

blood was painted your cheeks, much more than it had stained his clothes.

"you alright?"

you sighed, no use lying anymore. you shook your head and wrapped your arms around him.

the protection only his arms were capable of giving you. it was all you needed after everything you had just witness.

"no one is ever gonna hurt you, as long as i'm here."

it was a promise you didn't want to test anymore.

everyone got the message and you feared what bucky would go through to make true of his words.

you loved him, more than you will ever love anyone in this world, but the fear had also slowly but surely came at the things he was capable of doing.

for you.

====

tagging:

Bucky Barnes One-Shot / Series

@aami98 @caimann7789 @grumpyashhh @mysticunicorn7 @wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @mysticunicorn7 @curiousershipper @twilightmotion @jgun2001 @livstilinski @morganwilliams @star017 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @dryyoursaltyoceantears @curiousershipper @secretsthathauntus

Everything Else

@wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @star017 @silverrmistt

#bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes headcannon #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #stuckybarton asks #stucky bartons ask #stuckybartona ask

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oh-ranpo · 4 years ago

Text

i’ll be there.

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader summary: the one where bucky just needs someone to talk to. word count: 3.4k+

It started with a phone call.

It was late, and you were almost asleep when your phone started buzzing restlessly on the nightstand next to your head. You didn’t bother checking the caller id as you reached for the receiver and lifted it to your ear, hitting the accept button in the process.

“‘llo?” you greeted groggily, but you were met with silence. Your brows furrowed slightly as you pulled the phone away from your ear to see who was calling, and your heart stuttered in your chest when you saw Bucky’s name lit up on your screen. It wasn’t like him to call so late. It wasn’t like him to call at all. “Buck?” You pressed. “Bucky, are you alright?”

You could feel a pressure on your chest as you waited for a response, and finally, after a couple more seconds, you heard a heavy breath release on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry it’s late. I probably shouldn’t have called, I just… I didn’t know what else to do.” You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but despite the fact that it was already well past 2am, you weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon.

“Don’t apologize, I just wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” you murmured as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position before leaning back against the headboard of your bed. “What’s going on?”

That first phone call, he didn’t say a lot. You could tell that he really just needed someone to keep him company to help distract him from the thoughts and nightmares that were swirling through his head, and you really didn’t mind being the one to provide it. You and Bucky had been friends for a while, but you had never considered that you might be the one he went to when he didn’t know where else to turn. That had always been Steve, and now, you assumed that would be Sam. It made the most sense anyways. And yet, you were the one that found themselves listening to his gentle breathing as you waited for him to share what was on his mind.

You thought that it was just a one time thing at first, but then, you started receiving phone calls at all hours of the night a couple of times a week. Sometimes, it’d be earlier - around 9pm or so - and sometimes, it’d be just as the sun was rising and the ringtone of your phone would wake you up just before your alarm had the chance to.

“Please, don’t feel like you have to keep answering,” Bucky pleaded one morning when he just received a simple sleepy grunt as a greeting. “I know it isn’t fair of me to keep waking you up like this.” But really, you didn’t mind at all.

Your life was pretty calm, and while you did have to go to work, starting your day or ending your night with a conversation with a friend wasn’t something that you had a problem with. The only time his phone calls came late into the night was on the weekends when he knew that you wouldn’t have to be anywhere the next day, despite the fact that you told him to call you whenever he needed someone. You weren’t about to cast him aside just because you might feel a little groggy the next morning.

It took him a couple of hour long silent phone calls before he started sharing some of the reasons for why he was in need of company in the first place. Mostly, it had to do with the nightmares. He would never share specific details, but you were able to gather enough from the little tidbits he would share that they had to do with his Winter Soldier days. Your heart ached in ways you couldn’t explain as you tried to imagine what that might have been like - to be a stranger in your own body, and have to relive the memories of something you did but couldn’t stop. He didn’t say it, but you knew that seeing those people and seeing what happened, it broke him a little bit each time. They were things he could never take back, lives that he could never save, and it was eating him alive. You didn’t know how he did it.

While he talked, you listened quietly, and when he would fall silent, you would remind him that the Winter Soldier was gone, and that he wasn’t him anymore. The freedom he had gained during his time in Wakanda was the beginning of his new story, and that things would get better. The scoff that filled your ear told you that he didn’t believe you, and for the moment, that was okay. You knew that it would take a while of convincing before he believed you, and you were more than willing to stay patient enough until he did. That’s what friends were for, and if he was going to allow you on this journey with him, you intended to see it through.

Once the floodgates opened, the phone calls started coming more regularly and at a more set time. Every night, your phone would light up at 9pm, and every time, you knew who was on the other end of the line. When you answered, Bucky would greet you, his voice sounding a bit lighter each day, and you would let him dictate how the conversation would go from there.

Even though you weren’t sitting across from him, you could usually tell how things were going to play out depending on the tone of his voice and the speed of his speech. If he was quiet and didn’t say much, you knew that he was having a bad day. If he started telling you about something that had happened to him earlier in the day, you knew that he was feeling a little more peaceful. It was the little things that you picked up on, and those little things helped you better communicate with him. You were never pushy. You never pressed for answers that he didn’t want to give, and you found that, usually, he would eventually give them to you if you were just patient enough.

“You probably think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Bucky chuckled dryly one night, about a month into your new phone call routine. You were sitting at the dining room counter, a cup of hot cocoa warming the palm of your left hand as you held your phone to your ear with your right. For a moment, your lips downturned in a small frown at his question.

“Why would I think that?” You asked gently, and you could hear Bucky sigh.

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m a 106 year old man who can’t seem to function properly in the real world. and I still need someone to chase away my monsters when the sun goes down.” The vulnerability in his voice made your stomach churn as you leaned forward against the counter, bracing yourself for the direction the conversation was now heading.

“What happened to you doesn’t make you crazy, Bucky. You are not the product of your circumstances, you are James Buchanan Barnes and you always have been. So, no, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re doing the best you can.” You couldn’t see the small smile that formed on Bucky’s lips as his eyes went glassy, but you could hear the small, murmured ‘thank you’ in response. You still weren’t sure if he believed a word you said, but you hoped that your words brought him at least a little bit of comfort.

After that particular night, things took another turn. You never told anyone about the phone calls that you and Bucky shared because you saw them as something private. If he wanted to share it with people, he could, but you didn’t feel like it was your place. He was trusting you with what little vulnerability he was willing to show, and you weren’t going to give anyone else any unwanted access to that side of him. You just thought that you were being a reliable friend by picking up the phone and listening. So, imagine your surprise when, less than a week later, instead of your phone ringing at 9pm like it usually did, there was a knock on your front door.

At first, you were a little annoyed that someone would be stopping by just when you were expecting Bucky to call you. While you didn’t tell anyone about the calls, you still looked forward to them. You loved hearing his voice or just knowing that he was sitting on the other end of the line. The conversations you shared had brought the two of you inexplicably closer, even though you could see it if you were watching the two of you together in public. You thought about ignoring it, but when a second, lighter tap filled the room, you knew that you had to at least see who it was. You could lie and say that you were getting ready for bed and ask them to come back later. It was 9pm, surely they’d understand. Only, when you moved to open the door, you were surprised by who you saw standing on the other side.

Bucky gave you a sheepish look as he stood in your doorway, a pair of dark-wash jeans and a leather jacket adorning his body. He lifted his right hand to rub the back of his neck nervously, and you could tell that he was uncomfortable standing there, as if he was unsure whether you would be happy to see him or not.

“I hope it’s okay that I stopped by,” he murmured softly. “I know I usually call but I was in the neighborhood and I-“

Bucky stopped mid-sentence when you stepped to the side and gestured for him to come inside. A look of relief filled his features as you gave him a welcoming smile and allowed him to step around you before closing the door behind him.

“You’re always welcome here, Buck,” you grinned as you led him down the hallway and towards your living room. “You should know that by now.”

Bucky hadn’t really planned to stop by your apartment, but in the moment, it had just felt right. He had been walking the streets, trying to clear his mind, and his feet had led him here, to the doorstep of the one person who seemed the most capable at keeping his dark thoughts at bay.

Like with the phone calls, Bucky sat silently on your couch at first, his gaze shifting from a random spot on the wall across from him to his gloved hands. You watched, and then tried to focus on something else when you felt he might become uncomfortable with your staring. You hadn’t expected him to ever move past the late night phone calls, but having him sitting next to you now gave you hope that maybe things were getting better.

It wasn’t that things were getting better, it turned out, it was just that Bucky had really begun to trust you. You broke down walls that only Steve Rogers had ever managed to climb over before, and he found it easier to open up to you than Sam, and especially his therapist. You were an objective third party in all of this. You weren’t an Avenger and you hadn’t been put in the same situations that he had so you were able to give him a new perspective. Sure, you didn’t understand the trauma or the guilt that swirled inside of him, but you always seemed to say or do the right things that helped silence it, if even for a couple of hours.

Eventually, Bucky would just start talking about his day and he would ask about yours. The conversation would stay light, and often, he’d leave without touching on some of the deeper things that he usually talked about on the phone. You figured this was because sitting in front of someone and saying those things was far more intimate than saying it through the phone. He didn’t have to see your face and you didn’t see his when he opened up the darkest parts of his mind, so you understood. Either way, you were enjoying his company, and judging by the fact that he kept coming back, you could only assume that he had truly grown to enjoy yours as well.

In those lighter conversations, you could start to see a part of Bucky that you hadn’t really seen at all in the couple of years that you had been friends. He had always had a little edge to him - a hard exterior so that the outside world couldn’t get in and nothing inside of him could get out. However, after about a week of his nightly visits, you could see the tension in his shoulders was gone, and he would lean back against the couch in a far more relaxed way than he ever had before. A smile would form on his lips when he would reminisce on young Steve memories or when he shared something stupid Sam had done on one of their missions. The Winter Soldier was a mere blip in his memory during those nights, and you felt lucky that you were the one that got to see the slow change first-hand. You had also started feeling other things for the man you considered a friend, but you knew it wasn’t the time or place to investigate that any further.

“This is nice,” Bucky murmured one evening on one of his better and more upbeat visits. “It’s nice to sit here and just relax, you know? There hasn’t been a lot of peace lately, and…” His voice trailed off as you could see a cloudy look fill his eyes. You watched as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment, but then he was able to pull himself back as he shook his head slightly and his gaze fell to his hands. “It just feels kinda normal.”

Your heart lurched in your chest at his words, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out for him.

“Hanging out with a friend is normal, Buck,” you replied gently. “It doesn’t matter what time of day or how it’s done.”

Slowly, Bucky lifted his eyes back to meet yours, and there was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite track. Sam always teased him about his scowl and his staring, but this time, it wasn’t anything like that. It was more open and you could see a mixture of sadness, relief, and maybe… hope? You couldn’t be sure.

“Everyone needs a friend like you,” you heard him mumble as he turned away, and your heart thundered in your chest as you had to hide your smile behind your hand.

You lost track of how many nights in a row he had started coming over, and eventually, it almost became implied that he was going to stay. You didn’t exactly live close to one another, and as the two of you stayed up later and later, and you hated the idea of him walking across the city back to his apartment when it was so late.

“You can stay here,” you offered when a small yawn slipped through his lips and you caught sight of the time on the clock on the wall. “I have a spare bedroom.”

Bucky had looked at you skeptically for a moment, and you weren’t sure that he was going to accept. You knew that the nightmares played a factor, but it only made sense to you that he be in a place where he would feel safe should he have one. You didn’t say as much, but you hoped that he would have the same thought as you.

“I can sleep on the couch,” he replied, and while you wanted to insist that he sleep somewhere more comfortable, you didn’t push it. You had seen his apartment and knew where he slept, and you would let him choose his own level of comfort while staying with you.

After that, the two of you became practically inseparable. Your friendship took on a whole new meaning as you hung out in the mornings, evenings, and any time that you weren’t at work or he wasn’t busy with other things. He would stay at your apartment religiously, and it almost began to feel like you had a roommate after a while. A roommate that preferred sleeping on the couch to a regular bed, anyways. You knew that Bucky didn’t want to impose, but you never gave him a reason to feel like he was. You made him feel welcome, and you always made sure that he knew that you didn’t mind sharing your space with him.

“So, how long has it been?”

Sam had come over to your apartment that evening for a nice homemade dinner that you had offered to make, and while him and Bucky sat on the couch while you finished things up, Sam had posed the question.

It wasn’t like your new bond was a secret. Anytime anyone was around the two of you, they could see it. They could see the way Bucky lit up around you, and they could sense the comfort and reassurance that rolled off of you every time you spoke to him. To some, it could seem like a normal friendship, but knowing how Bucky was when it came to letting people in, those that knew him knew that whatever was happening was something special.

“How long has what been?” Bucky asked, annoyance slipping into his tone as he replied. Sam looked over at him and gave him a knowing look.

“How long has it been since you’ve felt like this about someone? And before you say you don’t know what I’m talking about, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Instinctively, Bucky glanced over his shoulder towards the direction of the kitchen where he could hear you moving around. A smile quirked up the corner of his lips as he thought about the last couple of months and how close the two of you had gotten. He couldn’t deny that his heart had become quite invested, but he also knew that was a dangerous situation to find himself in, so he never brought it up.

“It’s been a long time,” he answered honestly, even though he didn’t really want to dive much deeper than that. “If ever.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose at Bucky’s response, and almost immediately, a smirk formed on his face. Bucky rolled his eyes as he looked away, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam’s smile soften.

“Does it scare you? I mean, I know that has to be a lot.”

Bucky sighed as he focused on his hands - no longer gloved and hidden away - as he tried to piece his thoughts together. He knew that he probably should be scared, especially with everything he knew about love and caring for another person. However, it just wasn’t there this time.

“With her?” He started before lifting his head to meet Sam’s gaze once more. “Not at all. For the first time, with this one thing, I’m not scared at all.”

He could tell by the look on Sam’s face that he hadn’t expected that response, but before he could say anything more, you entered the room and all of Bucky’s attention was stolen away from him. Bucky moved to stand up as you told them both that dinner was ready. You could tell from the way the air felt around them that they had been talking about something important, but neither one of them offered to share what it was. As Bucky moved passed you, he dropped a kiss to your temple as he thanked you, and his arm snaked around your waist for a quick side-hug before he guided you back towards the dining room.

It was easy. The slow transition from hesitant late night phone calls to whatever was happening now was so seamless, you could hardly believe there was a time where things weren’t like this. When you looked at Bucky now, you saw a man with a traumatic past who was moving forward towards a better future. If you asked him, he would say it was only because you had been there to help, but you couldn’t take that much credit. Everything he had done, he had done because he wanted to. You were just the lucky one who got to be there to celebrate with him when he finally came out on the other side.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes fic #james buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel fic #marvel story #marvel imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fic #fluff #angst

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier.

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future.

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up.

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations.

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time.

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place.

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.”

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer.

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU.

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind.

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door.

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on.

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense.

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.”

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.”

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere.

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

#star wars #pop star wars au #my au #time travel #star wars au no 3

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jekde04 · 4 years ago

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Cuddle Buddies

For Gruvia Week 2021: Day 2 - Warmth

Day 1 | Day 3 | Day 4

Pairing: Gruvia (Gray Fullbuster & Juvia Lockser)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Genre: Romance

Word Count: 2,355 words

Summary: Gray doesn’t cuddle. But special circumstances *cough-Juvia-cough* might change his mind.

You may also read it on FanFiction.net and AO3! Check out my master list for other Gruvia fics.

Gray Fullbuster does not cuddle.

He'd like to say it was because he was an ice mage – he had a low tolerance for heat, regardless of whether it was coming from the blazing sun or another's warm embrace. It was just how he was made.

But the truth was, even if he weren't an ice mage, he still couldn't see the appeal of having someone's sticky, sweaty body squashed against him. How it can even be remotely considered comforting was beyond him.

He could pat you on the back, ruffle the hair on your head, and even sit beside you – but definitely no hugs.

Except if he absolutely had to.

Like, if it was a matter of life and, well, severe hypothermia.

And so, it was because of this that Gray found himself in one of the beds in the infirmary, cuddling with Juvia Lockser.

Whether he wanted to or not was already out of the question. After all, it was his fault that it had come to this, and he had no choice but to provide her with his body heat until her temperature rose back to normal.

"Feeling better?" Gray asked, absently stroking the soft locks of Juvia's hair as he held her close.

"Y-yes, Gray-sama. Thank you," she mumbled, her breath tickling the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his bare back.

Despite this, Gray didn't budge from his position. It wasn't because he was actually enjoying this. In fact, he could feel beads of sticky sweat forming on his forehead, neck, and chest. He was just worried that Juvia still hadn't fully recovered, that was all. After all, Juvia could be so stupidly selfless a lot of times, saying she was okay even when she clearly wasn't. He knew her enough by now to see right through her.

"Are you sure? You're still shivering," he whispered. Instinctively, he pressed her body closer to him, willing his warmth to transfer to her.

He felt Juvia push against him a little so she could look up at him. Her face was still pale, although he could see a little pink blooming on her cheeks. She also managed to give him one of her bright smiles without her teeth chattering.

"Yes. Juvia's really fine now." She moved her hands from his chest to his face, cupping his cheeks. Instantly, he felt warmth course up his face, though he wasn't sure if it was because of Juvia's hands or... something else. "See? Juvia's hands are warm now, thanks to Gray-sama."

He averted his eyes from her, feeling both bashful and guilty. "Don't be stupid. It's also because of me that you almost froze to death."

Juvia laughed softly. "Gray-sama is so dramatic! It was just part of training. Juvia will get used to it, don't worry."

After Gray discovered that he could actually use Juvia's water body as his weapon of ice destruction, the two of them wasted no time training their newfound spells. At first, everything worked the way they wanted it to, until Juvia started experiencing hypothermic bouts right after training. They eventually figured out that frequent use of Gray's ice magic on Juvia's water body made it difficult for her to control her body temperature.

They were already practicing the new spells for three days straight when Juvia had her first hypothermic episode. Gray could still remember how proud he felt after flawlessly executing Juvia Hammer when he noticed that it took some time for Juvia to reform her physical body. And when she finally did, all color drained from his face as a deathly pale Juvia reached out to him before collapsing, his reflexes activating just in time to catch her before her solid body hit the ground. His heart drummed wildly as he saw icicles clinging to her blue hair, her usual red lips now devoid of any color, her body shivering uncontrollably.

For a moment, Gray was transported back to that chilling snowstorm all over again, holding a lifeless Juvia in his arms. His blood ran cold.

He shook off the memory and carried Juvia to the guild's infirmary as fast as he could. The moment he placed Juvia on the bed, Wendy was already by their side, doing everything she could to raise the water mage's dangerously low temperature. Wendy mentioned something about using body heat to defrost Juvia quickly, and Gray wasted no time taking off the freezing woman's coat and enveloping her corseted body in his embrace.

Looking back, he thought he probably wasn't the best choice to provide body heat, but the thought of someone else holding Juvia was... well, he'd rather not think about it.

Someone must have called for Porlyusica because the next thing Gray remembered was the old lady checking up on Juvia, lauding Wendy's efforts, and telling him to continue what he was doing.

"Her water body is slowly heating her up, so she's going to be fine," the healer had said. "You can continue training your new spells so her body gets used to it, but don't be stupid and overdo it," she added, glaring at Gray.

After that incident, Gray was extremely hesitant to continue training the new spells. But Juvia was adamant about pushing through, claiming that it would be good for her to develop a resistance to cold as well.

Gray eventually relented, on one condition: that he would help her raise her temperature quickly with his body heat.

At first, Juvia couldn't believe her ears. Did Gray-sama just offer to hug Juvia of his own free will? But when Gray repeated his request while looking straight into her eyes and without blushing the tiniest bit, Juvia's confusion turned to bubbling happiness. She launched herself at Gray, muttering, "Gray-sama can cuddle with Juvia all he wants. We can start now!" It was only then that it hit Gray how incredibly embarrassing his request was, and he instantly turned a bright shade of red as Juvia continued clinging to him.

And so, cuddling after training became a routine for them, the afternoons spent sharing a bed at the infirmary becoming a common occurrence. All reluctance Gray had at the beginning was instantly erased every time Juvia would transform back to her physical body, trembling from the cold and seeking the warmth of his body. It wasn't as bad as that first time when Juvia looked as pale as a ghost – they were careful not to overtrain – but it still alarmed Gray enough to make him not want to let Juvia stray from his embrace for at least an hour until he could feel her body's warmth mixing with his.

"Still, you know you can always ask me to stop the training anytime, right?" Gray asked, staring at her intently. "I'm serious, Juvia. I don't want you overdoing things, saying you're okay when you're not. Promise me you won't lie to me about these things."

He was ready for her to tease him about how worried he was for her, but Juvia just gave him a sweet smile. She pinched his cheeks, earning a groan from the ice mage. "Juvia promises. Now, stop worrying so much. She's really fine now."

Gray sighed and loosened his hold on Juvia. She extracted herself from his grip, and Gray felt the loss of her body right away.

Juvia sat up from the bed and straightened her clothes. She looked back at Gray.

"Let's try again tomorrow?"

"As long as you're fine."

He would always be there to help her, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Juvia Geyser!"

Activating her Sierra form, Juvia absorbed Gray's magic, causing her water body to shoot up like a geyser. Sharp spikes hit the tree branch they were targeting, breaking it in a clean sweep. Juvia then melted into a puddle and reformed her normal body.

"Nice, Juvia!" Gray grinned, running towards her. He was about to hug her like he usually did when she stopped him with a firm hand on his bare chest.

"Juvia's okay now, Gray-sama. It took her a while, but she can normalize her body temperature quickly now." She smiled from ear to ear.

Gray frowned, studying her for any sign of hypothermia. "Are you sure?" He touched her forehead underneath her bangs. "If you're cold, then –"

"Juvia appreciates Gray-sama's kindness, but really, she's fine," she reassured him.

"But Porlyusica said we should –"

" – keep training so Juvia can get used to it," she finished for him. "And now, Juvia has gotten used to it, so Gray-sama has nothing to worry about!"

After a pause, he answered, "Alright. Whatever." He started walking back to the guild when Juvia called out to him.

"Gray-sama?"

"What?" It came out harsher than he intended, and he caught the concern in Juvia's expression.

"Is Gray-sama mad at Juvia?"

No, he wanted to reply, because really, his mind was relieved that Juvia was fine. They could finally train using their full powers and without that cloud of worry hovering over him. He could stop going easy on her and go back to the way it was. They no longer had to waste hours of precious time just staying in bed, holding each other.

It was all good.

But why does he feel... angry? Why couldn't he stop himself from balling his fists and gritting his teeth from frustration?

Why did it feel so wrong?

Juvia's warm hand on his tensed shoulders shook Gray out of his reverie.

"Gray-sama shouldn't be mad at himself for freezing Juvia. It wasn't your fault," Juvia said softly. "You didn't have to go out of your way to help Juvia –"

"That's the problem!" Gray snapped, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "You always think you're a bother when you're not. You always think about others first without thinking about yourself and your needs! Tell me, have I ever complained about helping you, Juvia?"

She stared at him, confusion written all over her face. Finally, she spoke. "You didn't, Gray-sama. But Juvia didn't want to impose herself because she knew that Gray-sama's not the cuddling type –"

"The hell I'm not, but I want to!" he exclaimed before he could even think of his words. "It's not that I feel responsible for what happened to you, but either way, I want to take care of you. I want you to rely on me when you need to – no, not just when you need to, but whenever you want to. All the time if that's what you want. Do you get me?"

Juvia opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again. Gray's words finally caught up with him, and he felt blood rush to his cheeks. He fought the urge to freeze Juvia and run away to where his feelings won't catch up with him.

After a few moments of wishing that the earth would swallow him whole, Juvia broke the awkward silence. "Is this Gray-sama's way of telling Juvia that he's okay with being cuddle buddies?"

"Cuddle... buddies? That's not... that's... what?" Things just kept getting more and more embarrassing.

Juvia stepped closer to him so that they were mere inches away from each other. Unlike Gray, she didn't seem the least bit bashful when she explained, "Juvia feels like it's Gray-sama's way of saying he'd like to continue hugging Juvia, frozen or not. Is Juvia right?"

"Ye – no," Gray stuttered.

"No? Gray-sama doesn't want to hug Juvia?"

"No – I mean, yes! Uhm, what I want to say is, I don't mind it... if you want... not that I want to, but you – it's up to you! Whatever you want!" Gray finished, losing his cool every second. Tsk, he thought, why did she have to be so blunt about it?

Juvia just stared at him, obviously trying to decipher his jumble of words. Gray took the opportunity to redeem himself. "But you're okay now, right? You're not bluffing?"

Juvia shook her head.

"Okay, in that case..." Gray let himself trail off as he motioned back to the guild. He couldn't wait to go home, have a nice, cold shower, and just forget all the cheesy things he said today. Tomorrow was another day.

He turned around, picked up his discarded shirt, and wore it. He was about to walk off when he felt Juvia's arms circle him from behind, her warm and curvy body pressed against his back.

"Juvia... wants to hug Gray-sama," she whispered, every word a warm breath against his shoulder blade. "She's no longer freezing, but if Gray-sama meant what he said... she wants to rely on Gray-sama even when she doesn't need to. Just because she wants to."

Sometimes, he couldn't help but marvel at how Juvia could totally get him, even when he couldn't properly put his feelings into words. He smiled as he felt warmth spread all over his body.

Gray loosened Juvia's hands so that he could turn around and hug her properly. One of his arms wrapped around her head and the other one around her waist. He buried his head on her hair.

"I meant what I said," he said softly, inhaling the sweet scent of petrichor in Juvia's hair. He felt Juvia's arms tighten around him.

They stayed like that for a few beats before Juvia looked up with a smirk and said, "If Gray-sama wants a hug from Juvia so badly, he should just have said so."

Gray turned red and was about to deny it when he stopped himself. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but their after-training cuddling sessions had become a routine he wasn't willing to let go of yet.

"Shut up."

Juvia gasped as Gray swiftly carried her, bridal style, and walked to a nearby shade. He set her down with her back against the tree trunk and sat beside her. He put his arms around her and held her close to him.

"Gray-sama?"

"Hm?"

"Cuddling is nice, isn't it?"

For the record, Gray still hated cuddling. But if Juvia was his cuddle buddy...

"I guess... it's not that bad," he whispered as he rested his head on top of hers, hiding his flaming cheeks.

A/N: I honestly had a hard time thinking of a story for this prompt because I just wrote Winter Warmth a couple of months ago, but I’m glad I was able to come up with another (fluffy) idea for literally the same prompt. Just so you know, it might take a while for me to post the next update, but I’ll complete Gruvia Week 2021, I promise. 😊

#gruvia week #gruvia #gruvia fanfic #gruvia fanfiction #Gray X Juvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #fairy tail

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half-bakedboy · 3 years ago

Text

it’s okay (not to be okay)

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “Great idea. Eddie really shouldn’t be exerting himself right now.”

“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie asked, standing up with a huff.

Buck didn’t have time to be frustrated, because Bobby was instructing him to assist with other patients and he had a job to do.

(Two jobs, if he counted protecting Eddie from himself.)

___________________________

[From: Ana]

Eddie had a panic attack and was taken to the hospital. He’s okay, but he’s struggling, Buck. I can’t get through to him, but I think you can.

[From: Ana]

He doesn’t want anyone to know. Chris had to tell the doctor he was shot. I don’t know what to do.

[From: Ana]

He just dropped me off at my house. Maybe someone should check on him later?

Buck stared down at the messages on his phone, panic thrumming through his body with each passing moment. He ran his fingers through his hair and held in the breath he had sharply inhaled to hold back his own alarm. It was a feeling he was used to, one that he grew to absorb and hold back because he couldn’t let it interfere with his life, his job. He needed a clear head and when he didn’t have one, the panic would become too much to handle, a cross he couldn’t and wouldn’t let himself bear.

Eddie didn’t panic. Eddie was the one who didn’t make rash decisions, who thought through everything before he acted, who kept everyone else calm in each crisis the team had. His level head made him an amazing soldier, a phenomenal firefighter, an ideal father, and… well, everything Buck had ever wanted to be.

So to say he was worried about Ana’s texts was an understatement.

He held his phone up to his ear and when the sound of Eddie’s voice rung through the speaker, he deflated. The familiar sound of Eddie’s always professional voicemail pissed him off more than anything so he wasn’t about to give up. He dialed the other number saved into his favorites and after a few rings, rustling sounded through.

“Buck?” Christopher asked, voice muffled with sleep. Buck checked the time on his watch and sighed.

“I’m sorry, buddy, you go to sleep. I was just trying to reach—”

“Dad’s not gonna answer.”

Christopher said the words so matter-of-factly that Buck felt his heartbeat speed up.

“You think so? Why is that?”

“He told me and Ana not to tell anyone,” Christopher began.

Buck could hear his pout and he wanted to ruffle his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he had to convince himself of it first. Christopher could see right through him and he wasn’t willing to have the kid lose sleep over his own nerves.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Buck promised, “but can you let me know what your dad is doing right now?”

“He’s in bed. He didn’t even take a shower and he loves showers,” Christopher exaggerated. Buck let out a huff of laughter.

“You’re observant, you know that?” A few moments of silence passed and even through the phone, Buck could hear Christopher’s worry. “Hey, he’s okay, right?”

“I think so.” He didn’t sound sure.

“Well, both Ana and I are looking after him and you know who else is?” Buck asked.

“Who?” Christopher whispered. His breathing was starting to slow, his voice sounding even more muffled as he slowly lulled himself to sleep.

“ You . He’s okay because he has you, just like he always has, got it?”

“Got it,” Chris agreed quietly. “Love you, Buck,” he added.

The line went dead before Buck could say it back, but he figured Chris knew what his response would be anyway.

___________________________

Over the next day, Buck did what he did best. He watched. He noted Eddie’s behavior. He considered the inflections of his voice, the content of his words, the way he handled himself. To any outsider, it was like nothing ever happened.

Buck wasn’t just anyone, especially to Eddie.

He pretended not to notice Eddie’s hesitation when he was tasked with helping Chim wire the air traffic controller. He pretended that Eddie’s hand didn’t feel too heavy on his shoulder when he stood up to quickly diagnose the other man with a potential panic attack.

He pretended he didn’t see the way Eddie’s hands trembled a little more than they usually did after a call while they made their way to the fire truck and ambulances with the victims. He pretended not to see Eddie close his eyes for a few moments and take a deep breath, in and out, calculated like it wasn’t quite second nature anymore.

It wasn’t until they entered the emergency department that he had ammo for confrontation.

“Hey, what was with that doctor on the way in? Why is she asking if you’re alright?” Buck asked. He played nonchalance really well but he could be proud of himself for that later.

“It was nothing.” Buck just stared and Eddie sighed. “I wasn’t feeling well the other day, so… she checked me out.”

“She’s a cardiologist. At a hospital,” Buck supplied. He knew Eddie didn’t think he was that stupid—or at least, he hoped. “Are you saying you had a heart attack?” Buck asked, immediately concerned that maybe he didn’t let Ana and Christopher in on the full story.

“No, I’m not saying I had a heart attack. I’m saying the opposite,” Eddie said smugly, “I’m saying I didn’t have a heart attack.”

“But you did think you were having a heart attack,” Buck appended. He was leading Eddie to the point, feigning dumb for the good of the situation, but Eddie wouldn’t budge.

“Can we just drop this?”

Before Buck could argue, Hen walked over and asked, “Guys, want us to tag you out?” Eddie agreed, but Buck felt his annoyance rise within him. He couldn’t stop himself from his next words.

“Great idea. Eddie really shouldn’t be exerting himself right now.”

“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie asked, standing up with a huff.

Buck didn’t have time to be frustrated, because Bobby was instructing him to assist with other patients and he had a job to do.

(Two jobs, if he counted protecting Eddie from himself.)

___________________________

The front door to Eddie's apartment slammed and Buck could see the tension jerk at Eddie’s shoulders.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Buck questioned.

“There wasn’t anything to tell, Buck,” Eddie said stubbornly. Buck would have smacked him if he wasn’t so worried.

“Nothing to tell, huh?” He held up his hand and counted off his fingers as he listed off, “You had a presumed heart attack and were sent by ambulance to the hospital. Turns out it was a panic attack and when asked if there were any stressors lately, you lied to the doctor about getting shot—”

“I didn’t lie, I—”

Eddie stopped himself when Buck’s glare narrowed even further.

“Your son had to tell the doctor that you were shot,” Buck corrected. Eddie pressed his lips together, unwilling to argue. “You almost have another panic attack on a scene and tell approximately no one only have a full-blown meltdown on a helicopter that’s hanging on by a thread in the middle of a rescue. Am I missing anything?” Buck asked, though it was clear he wasn’t looking for an answer.

“I’m fine—” Eddie began.

Buck waltzed up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him as hard as he could while still being aware of the bullet hole-shaped scar left behind from those few months ago. The scar that might have physically stayed on Eddie, but lingered in the back of Buck’s mind every single day.

“You’re not fine, Eddie! You almost died and you’re sitting here like life goes on and nothing has changed.”

“Nothing has. It was a panic attack, not another near-death experience.”

“You say another like it’s a normal occurrence in people’s lives,” Buck exclaimed. “It’s not! It’s not normal for people to get shot and survive—not once, but twice. It’s not normal for people to just move on with their lives like they weren’t nearly ended. It’s not normal to carry on like nothing is wrong when something is fucking wrong, Eddie!”

“Buck, you should take a step back—”

Buck pushed himself away before Eddie’s hands could press against his shoulders, that thumbprint on his pulse that reminded both of them that they were still there. He leaned against the wall behind him, unable to hold himself up without assistance anymore, and sighed.

“You didn’t tell me,” Buck said, a whisper of admission into the air between them like a secret Buck wasn’t ready to tell.

“I couldn’t,” Eddie muttered.

“You couldn’t?” Buck scoffed. “You didn’t trust me? You didn’t want me to exhaust you with my worry? Give me one good reason why you couldn’t tell me!”

“Because then it’s real, Buck, okay?!” Eddie yelled. He ran his hands through his hair before he pounded a fist against the wall beside him. It would hurt in the morning, that much was obvious by the sound that echoed through the empty room.

“What?” Buck asked quietly. Eddie breathed deeply like he hadn’t taken in air in months. Buck wasn’t convinced he had.

“If you don’t know, then I can forget it’s happening. I’m not reminded of that moment where the pain was so great that I couldn’t hold myself up and only trusted myself to reach out to you to pick me back up. I’m not haunted by the fact that I almost made my son an orphan for the third time in his life. If you don’t know, then I can pretend it never happened and move forward.”

“From what, Eddie? You can’t just move forward. You know that,” Buck prodded.

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell can try .”

They both paused, taking the moment of silence to breathe, to think, to figure out what was next.

Eddie made the first move, walking over to where Buck had leaned back against the wall and matched his position. He pressed their shoulders together, his eyes glued to the way Buck’s chest moved up and down slowly, imitating the movement as if he wasn’t sure he would be able to do it himself.

Buck yearned to reach out and hold him, but instead, he asked the questions that lingered on his mind.

“When are going to let us—any of us—in? When are you going to let me help you ? When are you going to admit that you’re not okay?”

Eddie didn’t—couldn’t—answer, but the shake in his shoulders was unmistakable.

As he slid down the wall, Buck followed his every move, wrapping an arm around his waist to ease the fall. When they landed, Eddie pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a gutwrenching sob that had tears bubbling behind Buck’s eyelids. He held them back as best he could because, at that moment, nothing else could matter but Eddie.

Cries of pain, anguish, fear, every horrible emotion that had been welling up inside of both of them burst from Eddie’s mouth and he fell into Buck for the support he extended. He clawed at the collar of Buck’s shirt, his nails raking against the skin of Buck’s chest, but nothing was as painful as the way Eddie gasped at the breaths that didn’t seem to come as quickly as he needed them to.

Buck held Eddie’s hand to his heart so he could feel the simple rise and fall of his chest and mimic it again. His other hand grasped at the shirt of Eddie’s back to keep his panic away, his own way of anchoring himself there so he could continue to be the solid weight Eddie needed to push through.

Every part of them was entangled and Eddie had no choice but to press his face into Buck’s neck. Buck hoped his heartbeat stayed solid enough to remind Eddie they were both still alive, even if it felt like they weren’t.

“I’ve got you, Eds, I’m here. I won’t let you go, never.”

It was too much to say, too easy for Eddie to read into the double entendre of his words and Buck selfishly hoped he was too lost in his own mind to realize it.

But the words or the touch or the steady calmness Buck forced himself into seemed to ease Eddie out of the attack of emotions that surged through him. Little by little, Eddie’s sobs turned to hiccups, his tears turned to trickles, and the white-knuckled grip he had on Buck loosened but didn’t fall. He breathed in time with Buck, his heartbeat slowing to its correct rhythm, and the tremors in his body settled to occasional chills.

“Buck?” Eddie asked, as if he barely realized what was happening inside of him.

“I’m here,” Buck reassured.

Eddie shook his head and when he finally glanced up, all Buck could see was the redness around his eyes and the tear stains that looked too permanent on his skin.

“I’m not okay,” Eddie admitted— finally —before pressing his face back into Buck’s neck with a whimper like the words were painful to acknowledge out loud.

“Yeah, Eddie, I know.”

Buck couldn’t resist kissing the top of his head and letting his lips linger for just a second too long.

“I need your help,” Eddie said, his voice graveled with emotion.

“You’ve got it,” he promised again.

“Yeah, Buck, I know,” Eddie teased because of course, even in his darkest moment, he had to get the last word in and it had to be something full of that sarcastic barrier he protected himself with.

Buck let him, though, because he figured Eddie knew what his response would be anyway.

#911 on fox #buddie #911 #911 spoilers #5x1 coda #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my writing #im so happy this season has started #coda fics are gonna own me for the next few months alksdjfl;asd #911fic

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is-it-art-tho · 3 years ago

Link

Summary: A mission gone awry, too many memories, too much blood, and not enough time. Bruce races to save a son he couldn't save before.

Prologue, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8

_________

Then.

“Who’s the bat now?” a young voice shouted.

Bruce paused halfway through the foyer and looked up. “Get down before you hurt yourself,” he called back.

Twelve-year-old Jason was hanging from the second-floor banister with his legs curled around the handrail, grinning impishly. “You sound like Alfred. We do way more dangerous stuff than this like every night.”

“That’s not the—” Bruce began, but the boy’s eyes zeroed in on the bowl of chocolates he was holding under his arm.

“Are those truffles?!” Jason stuck out his hands and grasped at the air between them. “Gimme gimme gimme!”

“You can have as many as you want once you get down.”

This, of course, was a lie. The first and last time Bruce had made a promise like this had involved a three-tiered cake left mostly untouched after a company party. He had been expecting Jason to have maybe three slices, max. The kid had instead eaten almost half of it, then proceeded to spend the rest of the night gagging and moaning over the toilet. (Alfred had laid into Bruce for that one: “What sort of promise is that to make to a child? Honestly!”)

A bright smile flashed across Jason’s face as he started to sit up before pausing then letting himself flop back upside down again with an accusatory frown. “Wait a second. You did that thing.”

“What thing?

“That thing with your eyebrows that you do whenever you’re makin’ stuff up.” Jason tried to demonstrate, scrunching his face around cartoonishly. “Liar.”

“All right, all right. Fair enough,” Bruce conceded, making a mental note to work on that particular tell. “But the point still stands. Leave that stuff for the practice mats and patrol.”

“Okayyy. But can you just throw one in my mouth? Please?”

Despite trying to maintain some semblance of sternness, a small grin tugged at the corner of Bruce’s mouth as he took in Jason’s pathetic excuse for puppy dog eyes. “Jason…”

“Just one?”

With a resigned sigh, Bruce plucked a single truffle from the bowl. “Alright. Just—”

***************************

Now.

“—one,” Bruce grunted over the pouring rain, adjusting the weight of Jason’s arm slung across his shoulders. When had he gotten so big? “C’mon, Jay. One step. There you go. One foot in front of the other.”

Jason’s head lolled forward as he struggled to remain upright, dragging a boot forward, then the other, his feet barely leaving the slick cobblestones. “I…hate Germany.”

“I know. We’ll be home soon.”

“Liar,” the young man rasped. He lifted his head enough to grin at Bruce, and it was a gruesome sight—his helmet was long gone, and now long trails of blood hung from his nose and mouth, his teeth a row of red—but it was somehow encouraging all the same.

“You can’t even see my eyebrows.”

“Don’t have to.”

Bruce feigned alarm. “Don’t tell me I have another tell.”

“Loads of ‘em.”

“Now who’s the lia—" he started then stopped abruptly.

The two of them heard it at the same time, muted in the downpour, but distinct—a series of quick and careful steps rushing up from behind.

Jason’s head swiveled first, and his eye that wasn’t swollen shut flew wide. Before Bruce had time to react, he was being shoved out of the way, stumbling on wet stones and falling hard as Jason spun to face the man in the balaclava that was charging towards them.

The assassin’s black uniform was barely visible in the shimmering dark of the rain, but as lightning tore through the clouds, he was lit in blinding relief, as was the ornate dagger in his hand.

And Bruce watched Jason spot the weapon too, but the young man's body was in no state to react the way it needed to, and in the span of a single breath, the dagger was gone, plunged deep into the young man’s abdomen.

The following crack of thunder was rivaled only by Bruce’s own roar.

***************************

Then.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Bruce stepped aside to let Jason shuffle past him and into Bruce’s personal quarters on the Watchtower, noting with a small pang of sympathy how the young boy started to limp as soon as the door closed behind them and there was no chance of one of the others seeing.

The boy flopped onto the bed with his face flat against the sheets. “Do what?”

“Go through all those drills with us,” he said, tugging off his shirt with some difficulty—already he was beginning to get sore. “It’s not an easy training routine. Even some of us tap out sometimes.”

“Wanted to.”

“Hm.” Bruce glanced at his bare torso in the mirror where bruises were already beginning to form. “Can I ask why?”

When Jason didn’t answer, he glanced at the boy in the mirror. “Jay.”

Still nothing. Had he passed out? Bruce turned, ready to rush him to the infirmary, only to find Jason perfectly awake and apparently furious. He was glaring at the ceiling with such an intensity Bruce had no doubt it would have melted if he’d had heat vision.

“This is about what Diana said,” he surmised, leaning back against the dresser. “You’re aware she wasn’t trying to offend you.”

“She said I wasn’t good enough.”

“No,” Bruce corrected patiently.

“She said I wasn’t as good as him.”

“She also said you had heart, which is something she doesn’t throw around lightly.” Bruce bent to pull a water bottle from the mini fridge and tossed it onto the bed beside Jason who made no move to grab it. “And you have to keep in mind Dick was almost sixteen the first time they met. He had a lot of experience under his belt by then. You just turned thirteen.”

“But it’s not just that,” Jason explained, openly exasperated. He sat up and pulled his domino off to cradle it in his hands like a living thing. “It’s everybody. Everybody thinks he was better than me. He’s the real Robin and I’m just…the replacement. I wanna show them that I’m the real thing, too. And that you didn’t make a mistake when you…”

He stopped short, but the rest of the sentence rang in the air anyway as if he had shouted it: You didn’t make a mistake when you chose me.

Bruce struggled to find the right words to say, to find that balance between sincerity and what Jason would certainly read as coddling. It was a fine line, and one he often stumbled over, and precious seconds ticked by in silence until at last Jason’s demeanor shifted.

The young boy’s face twisted into a stubborn smile, and Bruce knew instantly that the window of opportunity had passed.

“But who cares what they think anyway?” Jason smirked. “I know who I am so whatever.”

Another moment fumbled due to Bruce’s own ineptitude. He was no good at these conversations—not the way Clark and Alfred and even Dick were—and he cursed himself for it.

“Okay if I shower first?” the boy asked, scooting to the edge of the bed where he started unlacing his boots.

“Sure,” Bruce sighed. “Towels are in the drawer.”

Jason was nearly to the bathroom with a towel in hand when a knock came at the door and Bruce called, “Come in.”

The door slid open, and Clark stepped in, already showered and changed. In his hand was a pair of clippers.

“Thanks for letting me borrow these. Hey!” he beamed, turning to Jason. “Well, look at you!”

“What?” Jason shot back defensively, looking himself over. “What?”

“Nothing. Just happy to see you up and around so fast. You know, the first time we trained together as a team, this guy,” Clark held up a hand to block the fact that he was pointing directly at Bruce—Bruce saw it anyway—“came back here and slept for about eight hours. Everyone thought he was dead.”

“Seriously?!”

“No,” Bruce interjected.

“Alright. Five,” Clark allowed.

Bruce’s voice dipped threateningly. “Clark.”

“Did I mention he puked?”

By the time the deodorant left Bruce’s hand and exploded against the wall, Clark was already grinning mischievously from the other side of the room, his cape settling back around him.

Meanwhile, Jason was bent double, laughing harder than Bruce had seen in a long time. “You puked?” he wheezed.

“Like a fire hydrant,” Clark chimed, eliciting another roar of laughter. It was as innocent and contagious and perfect a sound as Bruce had ever heard, filling the small space easily.

The two men exchanged a quick knowing glance while Jason laughed, confirming what Bruce had suspected from the moment the other man had arrived—one way or another, Clark noticed that something was wrong.

Clark raised an eyebrow—a question—and Bruce nodded: He’ll be okay and Thank you packed into the quick dip of his chin. Clark smiled.

Setting aside the clippers, the Kryptonian crossed the room to pat Jason on the back, saying earnestly, “Good work today. Really.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, and this time the smile that slid across his face was genuine.

After Clark had gone, Jason whispered, “Did you really do all that stuff?”

“He exaggerated.”

“But?”

“Yes, I vomited,” Bruce offered at last, more than willing to fall on this sword if it meant hearing that sound again. After a moment’s consideration he added, “Flash slipped in it.”

And again, Jason was howling, letting himself fall back against the wall and as he gripped his ribs. “I can’t breathe!” he gasped between peals of laughter. “I—"

#a little bit louder now #batman fanfic #batman fic #batman fanfiction #batfam fic #batfam fanfic #whump #jason todd whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #batman #red hood #bruce wayne

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queerswim · 3 years ago

Note

can i get a jealous nagito x reader? :o

Thank you for the request, anon. I got to it as fast as I could, I hope it was worth the wait. Please give me your feedback if you're willing. CONTAINS: MILD ANGST WORDCOUNT: Exactly 1616, I may have gotten a little, tad lazy near the end. If none of the contains/warnings alarm you, please proceed. My requests are currently open. Check it out if you want to. The rest remains under the cut. ────────────────

Nothing. The word lingered in his clear mind. Nothing was wrong. Nothing had come to bite him in the ass. Nothing had gone bad. All due to his luck, and some luck he had alright. It was a balance between lucky and unlucky circumstances. It was nothing he wasn’t aware of, he had gotten used to it at this point. He knew what usually happens, good luck then leads to bad luck. Bad luck then leads to good luck. A hopeful outcome on some occasions. For all the self-aware reasons, he was paranoid. Questioning the possible scenarios that could occur. Nothing had gone wrong. It was almost as if the day so far had been perfect. That word. That word is such a strong word, it made him cringe. Dreading what may happen, completely on edge. He tried not to think too much about it. He wasn’t trying to dismiss the possibility of it happening, no. No, no, no. It was certain. He was certain, something was going to happen. There was nothing he could do, so why think too much about something he had no control over. It’s a sickening thought. He was vulnerable during such severe positions. To distract himself, Nagito thought of all the good that had happened to him so far. For starters, he woke up in the warmth of his bed that hung over his lanky form, wrapping around him tightly. Holding the comfort once his glassy green eyes opened. His body didn’t feel so tight, and straining to wake up in. His muscles didn’t feel tension. More like he was able to levitate, it was heavenly. His eyes didn’t feel dry. Legs didn’t feel sore. Arms felt free. Tips of his fingers and toes scrunched inwards as he lifted himself from the previous slumber. It was good sleep, the kind of sleep you get from a long day at the beach. That is, if you’ve ever had some good rest from such an event. It feels so nice. So, so nice. Not the usual feeling of grease, it was icky. He didn’t cherish it for too long. For two reasons. One being that he wasn’t worthy of this type of thing. He didn’t deserve to feel like this, to wake up so nicely. He- no. No, that’s not right. A shameful scum should be 6 feet under. Though here he sat, waking up in such a humble manner. How selfish for someone so filthy. Nagito pushed some of the sheets away from his abdominal area, feeling the new breeze on his bare skin made him shiver. The sheets had been pushed off his legs as well, they were restrained in his dark, almost black, gray denims. He hadn’t fallen asleep with comfortable clothes, no. He had turned in with his usual clothing. Except for the shoes, they were kicked under the bed. Nagito had begun to lift himself from the cozy covers and onto his feet. The hardwood flooring underneath were cold but not cold enough to make him flinch. His toes curled in, head tilted down to the ground. He needed to do something, move around. Maybe today wouldn’t be so terrible. So that’s what lead to where he was now, standing silently on the concrete sidewalks. This is where we left off, this is the previous state Nagito was in. Pondering the multiple possibilities. Everything felt so slow. Not a single trace of bad luck followed. It didn’t sit right with him, mouth slowly starting to feel dry. He didn’t want to think about this too much, he wouldn’t stop if he thought about it too much. He’d become paranoid. So, instead he licked the insides of his mouth to dampen the dryness. Nagito knew where he was headed next, he was going back to his shared home. It wasn’t anything fancy, a rented apartment that you and Nagito lived in. That’s where he wanted to be, home. Nagito wanted to be home without overwhelming waves of stress randomly crashing down on him, he wanted to be in your arms. He wanted to feel the raw warmth of your skin against his as he scatters butterfly kisses all over your body. That also lead to the chance that maybe he shouldn’t go. Jeez, he’s so indecisive. Though, who could blame him, it was for your benefit if he went or not. He wanted to keep you safe, but he also. Agh. It was all rushing in different- chaotic piles of decisions and paranoia. He hadn’t been so pessimistic until he had gotten you into his life. Nagito can’t lose you.

He moved so gradual. He didn’t want to face what bad luck had for him in stock. Maybe you were dead- No. No, he can’t be thinking about that. He tried to pushed that away, why would he even think of that as a chance. Nagito hated the fact he let that slip his mind, he’d tear his mind to shreds if he could. It was doing him no good. His (almost brown) tan shoes trace the ground underneath, appreciating what he had now. The sky was beaming, the grass still held the lively appereance. He started to move faster, he changed his mind. Wanted to get this over with, it couldn’t be too terrible even if it was there. He was going to be okay, and so were you. Turning corners, crossing roads. His luck seemingly had started to kick in, the turn of events. It wasn’t bad at all, almost relieving. The lights that flashed green, proceeding people to walk had immediately morphed once he had gotten there. Showing a red hand with a countdown of 10. This had only begun to start and he wasn’t too far from home. Nagito made contact with your apartment complex. There was a row of apartment places there, about 4 stacked beside each other. He had passed by one. He just needed to get by one more and he’d be home. Nothing seemed to be happening, no sour, bitter edge felt necessary. Everything appeared fine. He wouldn’t let his guard down though, he had to be ready. Prepared for what he may encounter. The pads of his fingers dug into the pockets of his evergreen zip up jacket. The back of his jacket flapped, hitting the back of his legs ever so often from his fast movements. He was stewing, repeatedly questioning the peaceful breeze, there was no way it could be this perfect. Especially with his fucked luck, it was merely impossible.

With that, he was now at your shared apartment complex. Taking no time in getting up the stairs and to the door, grabbing a hold of the knob and slowly turning. No restrains, his luck again, huh? It had to be. The door began to open, letting the new view be seen through Nagito’s grey-green eyes. What laid in front of him was you. You weren’t alone, you were sitting on one of the lawson type couches, leg crossed. One arm laying carelessly by your side, the other around. Around, who was this guy? Nagito had to squint his eyes, pressing his finger ever so slightly into the knob. It was Hajime. A sore lump begun to rise in Nagito’s throat. He couldn’t explain the immense anger that started to flood through him. But it was there. Shoulders tight, scrunched and pressed against the numbing walls. Nagito was imagining this, this. This wasn’t wasn’t happening, it had to be hovered doubt. It was only exaggerated in his mind because he was certain something terrible was going to happen. It was a fogged observation. He barely caught view of what was happening anyway, he didn’t want to know what was happening behind closed doors. Nothing had happened but brief chit chat. Immense accusations that flooded his mind instantly said otherwise.

“Ah, mm. There’s someone better, isn’t there?”

He rambled mistaken beliefs through whispers, unable to speak any higher than his hushed murmurs. His breath so caught up in his throat causing him to be incapable of expressing such nauseating thoughts. Nagito’s grasp on his mouth gestured to his neck, head slanting back as he clutched, he clutched hard. The chewed off nails dug into the side of his neck, thumb resting on the other end. He deserved this, that’s what he let himself think, it was justified. You weren’t his, and you never would be. So selfish of him. You slipped so easily from his desperate grip, why would you be his. No, it was all a lie. A myth. It was unfortunate. This hurt like hell, the thoughts you could be getting along with Hajime better than you ever had with him. The neck gripping only being in the distance, it couldn’t compare to his thoughts. His thoughts that were interrupted by new thoughts, his knees stuttered to keep him up. His throat was dry, he swallowed. He wanted to get out of here. Right now, this was the peak he had to face. His despair, this was awful. Why did this have to be it, it could’ve been worse but hell.

“God, what is my deal? Getting so emotional.. over this? I’m not even certain if what they’re doing is wrong!”

Nagito cried out, his hands making most of the gestures as he released his message in desperation. His teeth chewing on his bottom lip during the slight pauses in between sentences. He had to get away, he was. So useless, so vulnerable. Someone as so close to a deity as you were, doesn’t need to be with someone akin to like, a shoe umbrella? Entirely, fully, absolutely pointless.

You’d get him, you’d find him. Things would get better.

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #dangan ronpa #danganronpa imagines #dangan ronpa imagines #nagito imagines #komaeda imagines #nagito tag #komaeda tag #nagito komaeda #nagito #dangaronpa sd2 #nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda x reader

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softcallofdutyimagines · 4 years ago

Text

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 5

Summary:

I once again expose myself for being into older men, and you and Woods go on your first date

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, age difference

“Anyway, can I help you with something?”

Your friendly voice and sweet smile pull him out of his thoughts. Frank looks down at you, and instantly lets his nerves get the better of him. This was a mistake from the beginning.

He looks away, attempting to mask his insecurities with a gruff exterior, “Uh, it’s nothing. Sorry, may-”

“Oh no no, it’s fine, really! I just have to deliver these papers and then I can be right with you”, you smile encouragingly, and then… he decides to stay. More due to the fact that he feels unable to say no to you rather than by his own resolve, however.

He’ll have to watch out for that.

So he waits. There’s exactly one other chair in your office, a squat cube shaped thing sitting on the other side of your desk. Clearly this is something you own and brought in, rather than a piece of furniture that was given to you like that plain old black office chair behind your desk. The chair looks like it was brightly colored once, and smacks of something salvaged from the early 70s and dragged into the modern era. Still, it’s rather comfortable despite the faded, slightly sagging state of it.

Frank traces his fingers up and down the angular arm rest, thinking of you. You know, now that he’s had the chance to look around… There’s actually quite a few things of the past in here. He sees a bulky old camera and even a typewriter tastefully displayed amongst a few other nik naks on your shelves, both of which look like they were rolled out around the time he was just a child.

For a moment, he feels uncomfortable again and far too old to be trying something like this with you. But then, the anxiety is washed away with the musing that perhaps…. You like old things.

He can’t help but huff a laugh at that. A wishful thought on his part, maybe, and yet… not completely untrue.

“What’s so funny?”, your curious voice pulls him out of his thoughts as you suppress a small laugh of your own.

“Huh? Oh, nothing just… That camera’s gotta be older than I am”, he chuckles and points to the black box of a thing just above you. “What are you doing with a piece of junk like that anyway?”, he laughs.

You gasp in mock hurt, “It’s not junk! It works!” Suddenly you seem to grow quite excited, trotting up to retrieve the object in question. Cradling it carefully, you swing around your desk and take a seat on the hardwood, showing off your treasure, “This is a Kodak Cartridge Hawk-Eye from 1926!” You enunciate the date excitedly as though it were a relic from the dinosaur days, meanwhile all Woods can think of is that that was only a mere four years before he was born.

For a few minutes longer, you go on giving a whole info dump on all you know about the little device, wave upon wave of building excitement adding to your voice and before long, Frank finds himself being swept up in it all. No offence, but… he really doesn’t give a single fuck about the camera. But, the way it has you grinning bright as sunshine. The electric spark in your eyes. The way you give his arm a gentle touch to brace him for what you seem to think is a very riveting fact…

He would listen to you talk about that damn thing all day, just to see you like this.

Before he knows it, the lecture is over and he couldn’t be more disappointed. You shake your head, just now realizing you’ve gone off on a tangent once again. “Ugh, sorry…”, you laugh it off and go to put it away, “I just get so excited about my antiques. I love that stuff, you know? Anyway, before I go off again… What was it you wanted to see me for?”

Suddenly, Frank can feel his heart clench tight. He had almost forgotten why he came, and now… he’s wishing you would’ve too.

“Oh? Uh, why… Why did I-? Uh… Yeah, um, so-”

Damn it! He never thought he’d say this, but he’d rather be in a gunfight right now. Anything then this… juvenile, high school shit. You’ve since returned to your spot on the edge of your desk. Despite his highly suspicious stuttering, your expression remains polite and even encouraging as you wait for him to formulate a coherent sentence.

While his mind reels for some sort of excuse, anything to get him out of this situation he’s dug for himself, his nervous gaze lands on the very last thing it needs to right now. Your eyes are glittering in this afternoon light. Do you know that?, he thinks. You’ve locked eyes right back at him, but the situation is anything but awkward. He appreciates the way that you aren’t afraid of him. That you’re willing to show him patience and understanding… Like he’s a fucking human being, instead of some crazy old veteran that you’re just indulging until you can finally get rid of him.

The longer he looks back at you, the more and more he can feel the tension melting out of him. Each muscle in his body slowly but surely unclenches, allowing him to relax at last as he leans back into his seat. He can’t lie to you. You don’t deserve that.

Damn it…

Frank breaks eye contact at last. He flexes his hand gently, working out the nervous energy, as he makes a fist. “I uh… I was just wondering if, maybe… you wanted to get coffee sometime…”

Immediately he braces for… well, he’s not sure what exactly, but rejection for sure. He closes his eyes so he can’t see the disgusted face you must be making, and all the muscles he’d just set at ease jump back into bands of iron across his chest, tensed so tight, he feels like his heart might stop. It’s only been a few seconds, but it feels like years have passed when you finally respond…

“Sure! What time would work for you?”

His eyes snap open as he jerks his head around to look at you, not entirely sure he heard you right. But then… there’s that same, sunny smile and electrified eyes that tell him you mean it.

“I-I uh…”, and just like that, he snaps out of it. Woods sits up straight, fixing a strand of hair that’s strayed from its place, and grinning excitedly himself. He hasn’t felt like this in… years. “W-well what time would work for you? I’m sure as shit not doing anything”, he laughs.

You think for a moment, “Oh! Say, do you go for a run on Saturdays too?”

Pft, not lately. “Yeah! Why?”

You light up, “Great! Tell you what, let's meet up and we can go for a run together then hit that coffee shop we met at last time. Would that be alright? Could be fun!”

As though you even needed to ask, he’s already agreeing. The two of you make some more concrete plans like the wheres and whens specifically before preparing to head your separate ways. You stop him and scribble down your number on a torn sheet of paper. “Just in case”, you smile. “And hey… Loser pays”, you break out into laughter.

“Oh yeah?”, he smiles back, “Don’t think I’ll go fucking easy on you!”, he calls, half way down the hall by now as you wave him off.

When you’ve retreated out of sight, Woods takes a look around. Alone again. Good. He reaches into his pocket and gingerly retrieves the slip of paper. Over and over again he reads and re-reads the chicken scratch handwriting you’ve produced. To him, it’s wonderful.

By the time he gets to his car, he feels like he knows that number better than his own dog tag ID. He slips the precious sheet into his wallet, the first of a few select reminders of you that he’ll keep safe in there.

As the few short days go by, he waits restlessly until he can see you again. And finally… Finally, Saturday morning comes.

5:26 am, and he’s up before his alarm. He doesn’t even need to check the digital clock to see what day it is. He already knows as he jumps out of bed and races to get ready. In no time at all he meets you early at the nearby park you agreed to meet at. You’ve come prepared in your high tops, short shorts, and nylon catsuit. Stylish and modern, but thankfully not as over the top as what the fashion industry would have you in.

It takes every ounce of willpower within him to keep his eyes up.

“Ready?”, you stretch your arms up high, only accentuating your body as you do so.

Frank can feel himself turning red as he status out an affirmative, earning… is that a smirk? from you.

“Alright then, ready… set…”, without warning you bolt off for a head start.

“Hey!”

He wants to be mad, but… He’s just having too much fun, damn it. About half way through, it’s a fair race, and although he’s beating you it’s not by that much. Once he’s proved to himself that he’s still got it, Woods allows himself to fall back, giving you the ego boost you need to stick it out and sprint to the finish, tired as you are.

Frank trots to a stop behind you shortly, only slightly more out of breath then you are. He may have let you win, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t give him hell in the first half.

“Cheater”, you give his shoulder a light punch and a knowing look.

“Me?”, he laughs, ignoring the accusation that he would ever let someone else beat him in a competition, “What do you call that stun at the start?”

You merely laugh, wiping some sweat from your brow as you head towards the door of the coffee shop. The bell chimes as you enter and walk up to the counter together. You place your orders, and Frank pays. You wait in silence for your orders, merely taking the time to completely catch your breath.

Drinks and breakfast in hand, you sit by the large bay windows together. The sun has just peeked over the horizon, filling the room with a golden glow. A halo of light shines around you, catching every perfect curve and angle you have to offer as you grace him with your presence. The food and coffees are nearly forgotten as you both get caught up talking about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation topics turn and change like leaves in the wind, easily transitioning from one to the other as you slowly yet surely get to really know one another.

Frank is on the edge of his seat, waiting eagerly to hear what you have to say next as he talks with you. It’s the most excited he’s been to hear someone else drone on and on in his entire life. By the time you’re both feeling talked out, the sun is well on it’s way to rising and the morning dew has since evaporated.

But, it doesn’t matter. How could he ever feel time was wasted when it was spent with you?

The two of you walk back towards the park, making sure to take it slow so you can get the most out of what little time you have left together.

“And then I said, ‘Looks don't count for shit in the jungle. This is 'Nam baby!’ “

You burst out laughing, “Did you really? And then what happened!”

He grins, “Well, the- Oh, wait, we’re uh, we’re here…”

The two of you stop at the edge of the parking lot. It’s practically empty aside from your lone car only a stone’s throw away. At that, the mirth seeps from you as well as you agree.

“Well… I guess… thanks. I had fun, you know”, Frank turns to face you, hoping more than anything that you enjoyed yourself as well.

“Yeah, me too!”, that familiar little smile that he’s grown so fond of slowly makes its way back. “Maybe… Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Besides,”, you act on a jolt of courage, stretching up on the tips of your toes to press a little kiss to his rough, stubbly cheek, “you have to tell me the rest of your story”

You lick your lip and give it a little nervous bite as you shyly take his hand in yours for comfort.. It feels huge, more like a bear paw than a human hand, compared to yours. “Well… See you later…”, you turn and begin to back away, holding his hand until you can no longer reach, forcing you to let go. You offer him one last smile, but all he can do is stand there, frozen amongst a roar of emotions.

Woods lifts a hand to his cheek, reverently caressing the spot your lips touched. The depth, breadth, and complexity of feeling circling in his mind are far too much for him to ever put into words. But, out of them all, one rings out loud and clear. He’s so, so…

Happy.

#black ops cold war #call of duty #frank woods #frank woods x reader #cod fanfic

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

the sex party: ii

(r18+)

shinsou hitoshi x reader

ao3

part 1 || part 2 (you’re here!)

word count: ~9k

You and Hitoshi definitely have a thing for each other, but who would've thought that a 'sex party' would produce a confession?

warnings:

COLLEGE AU! characters are explicitly aged up to college students as early 20 year olds!

not really a sex party, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessions, reader is canonically bi, brief momo x reader, light dom/sub, spanking, references to drug use, smoking (cigarettes, salem trademarked fic thing), drinking, and smut

---------

once again, thank you to @keiqos for editing, absolute gem :’^). now read and take this nice fluff and smut!!!

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Hitoshi hailed the gang outside just before calling an Uber, vaguely explaining what happened and that you were both headed back towards campus. Denki and Jiro assured the two of you that they’d find the fucker and get him thrown out and spit on.

“What a fucker, I’m sorry that happened, (Y/N),” Jiro frowned, eyebrows creased with anger. She cracked her knuckles.

You felt your chest tighten as you smiled back reflexively, “It’s alright. I’m just glad it's over.”

Mina grabbed your shoulders, “I’m going to ruin him for ya’, (Y/N). Ruin.”

She was deadpanned about it, waving a quick goodbye before running into the party to presumably go and kick the guy’s ass. The rest of the party peers followed, leaving with a similar sentiment and a lot of anger.

Denki remained, rubbing the back of his neck, “Are y’all headed back to the house then?”

You nodded, eyeing Shinsou, “Yeah, back to your guys’ place.”

Denki’s eyebrows raised, a wicked grin coming to his face.

Hitoshi gave a half-hearted glare.

Denki continued looking smitten as all hell. He gave Hitoshi a quick hug and crushed one into you. He flitted back in the house with a lightness in his steps that showed distinctly that he was far more drunk than he was letting on.

...

Part of you had a feeling that the night was far from over.

The Uber arrived a few minutes later, smelling of cheap air freshener and stale cologne. You climbed into the back seat as far as you could go. You expected Hitoshi to take the passenger’s side, but he slid beside you, buckling himself into the middle seat.

You didn’t say anything, but you mentally thanked him.

Considering the number of weird friend boundaries (when were you going to be honest with yourself, god, just say it) that had been breached already, you let yourself fall just the slightest bit into Hitoshi’s side as the car began to move.

Hitoshi continued tapping around on his phone one-handed, all to wrap an arm around the back of your seat, half around your shoulder. You relished his heat and let the details fade away as you stared out of the car window.

At some point, Hitoshi put his phone away, stuffing into the pocket of his jeans.

“Your jacket—” You spoke up, but Hitoshi quickly and quietly shushed you, squeezing your shoulder.

“I already had Momo grab it, no big deal,” You hadn’t realized how close he was until the heat of his breath rolled over your ear. “It’s much more important to make sure you’re feeling alright.”

Why is he so nice?

You remained silent, hyper-aware of the softness of your bare thigh pressing against Hitoshi’s own. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the warmth of his breath so close to your face in such a small space.

And you wanted more.

The neon lights of the city reappeared, growing brighter as the two of you neared Hitoshi’s home. Your mind swirled and spun with revelation after revelation.

How the fuck had you not realized how much you liked Hitoshi sooner?

I mean, it was obvious, but repression really does things to a person.

The Uber finally pulled up to Hitoshi’s home. The two of you swiftly went inside, an odd silence between the two of you.

As you stepped out of your heels, Hitoshi broke it from the living room.

“What if I told you I ordered food from that one late-night diner and it’ll be here in ten minutes?” Hitoshi glanced up from his phone with a dashing smile, the kind only you got to see.

It made you want to fucking explode.

You cracked your own, standing fully and stretching your toes, “I’d say ‘thank god, and god is Hitoshi Shinso.”

“You flatter me,” He chuckled, waltzing into the living room. You followed, aware of the eerie quiet that the house carried. It was rare that Hitoshi’s home was fully uninhabited and fully soundless.

It made your thoughts seem even louder.

“Want anything? Water? I can make us some drinks if you’re still in that mood,” Hitoshi offered, already moving towards the kitchen.

It felt like you were going to burst.

“Water is okay, I’m not really feeling like drinking anymore.” You laughed softly, rubbing the back of your neck. You were desperately trying to relieve your own internal tension, but you just fucking couldn’t.

Hitoshi returned a moment later with a glass for you and a kind gaze, regarding you were the most sacred thing in the world. The glass trembled in your grip as you refused to maintain eye contact with him.

You really couldn’t handle any more of this.

“You tired? I can set up the couch for you if you wanna lie down, unless you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” Hitoshi asked, moving towards the linen closet to grab your usual sheets and blankets. Hitoshi obviously sensed your discomfort and the bastard was too nice for his own fucking good, trying to cater to your every fucking need.

He’s way too nice.

...

You made your decision in that moment.

You swallowed, tongue feeling thick in your mouth. Fear wormed its way into your gut, but you spoke through it.

“Actually, can we talk?” You hated the way how your voice trembled.

Your knees felt weak when you saw Hitoshi’s expression fall, pretty violet orbs drooping.

Both of you were well aware of what the conversation would be about.

Hitoshi stopped across the room, turning to you. His brow was furrowed with anxiety. His voice came out sticky, pushing, “I think you’ve had a long night.”

Fuck it.

Tell him.

How much longer can you keep this up anyway?

“It’s going to feel a lot longer if I’m sleeping on the couch when I want to be in your bed.”

The silence that stunned the room echoed louder than anything you had ever heard before. You stared down at your feet, ignoring the way overemotional tears began to gather in your eyes. Your vision clouded, but your mouth kept spewing.

It had to.

“Hitoshi, I like you. A lot more than friends like each other.”

More silence.

You hold back sniffles.

You’re fucking up your whole friendship.

“And I know, our flirting has always been teasing, but I think it became real for me at some point.”

More silence.

“I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. You’re my best friend, Hitoshi, and I really, really care about you. And, I don’t want to throw away our friendship over a crush, okay? I just needed to get this off my chest. We can just forget I ever said anything if that’s easier.”

Your own arms come to wrap around yourself, thumbs making idle circles in an attempt to unconsciously soothe yourself.

You could hear Hitoshi take a few steps towards you, inhaling like he was going to speak, but quickly cutting himself off.

Ouch.

A few stray tears ran tracks down your face.

Your lip wobbled as you spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, and that I teased you so much while feeling like this, I just didn’t notice—”

“(Y/N).” Hitoshi stood in front of you, low voice shocking you from your thought.

You refused to look up at him.

“H-hey, how about I just go back to my dorm? I’m sorry—” You sputtered, rubbing at your eyes as the carpet grew blurry beneath you.

You felt so fucking pathetic. Maybe it was because it took you this long to figure out your own feelings and say something about them. Maybe, it was because you were fairly certain you were capital l in Love with Hitoshi, yet you didn’t even have the guts to look at you as you confessed.

Maybe, it was all because you were so damn terrified that it was all of these possibilities making you drown in your own insecurities.

Hitoshi, diligent and mindful as ever, took note, even if you didn’t notice.

“(Y/N), look at me.” Hitoshi’s damn near commanded, but you somehow ignored him, spiraling deeper.

You couldn’t keep yourself from shaking as your voice cracked, “I’m so fucking sorry, Hitoshi. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll be better, we can—”

And then there were hands, large and soft cupping your jaw, gently forcing your gaze up.

You shook even harder, unable to avoid him any longer.

Your breath felt leached from your lungs when you finally met Hitoshi’s endlessly sweet gaze.

Hitoshi’s eyes were so fucking soft. There was this melancholic smile on his face that made alarms go off in your skull.

He’s going to reject you.

You got the wrong idea.

You sucked down another sob as you tried to lower your head, but Hitoshi’s grip only became firmer. His thumb rubbed away some of your tears as he released a soft sigh.

A moment of quiet passed between the two of you. The teasing, fleeting glances and lustful eye fucking of the earlier night were long gone. All that remained was a tense string of vulnerability that both of you were terrified of.

You were shaking so hard in his grip.

You didn’t notice, but he was shaking too, desperately trying to keep his breathing even.

You blinked up at him, just waiting for him to reject you.

(Like Hitoshi would ever do that—)

“Can I kiss you?” Oh, his voice rolled so low and deep over you, you could’ve died.

Your eyes widened, and all you could do was nod, brain sluggishly following the situation.

He shook his head, lowering his head just a bit closer to your eye level. So ardently did he refuse to look away from you.

“I need you to say it, (Y/N).” He kept himself composed but god, he was struggling.

You gulped, leaning into Hitoshi’s hands for comfort.

“Yes, please,” Your voice came out soft, breaking and needy and Hitoshi wanted every bit of it.

His face hovered in front of yours for a moment, eyes tracing your features with such reverence.

And then his lips were on yours and all of your mutually stored tension broke.

It shattered.

His lips were soft, so different from what you secretly fantasized about. You expected some sort of roughness to him, but now that you were so sinfully close, he radiated calm and sweetness that you could almost taste.

Hitoshi was so gentle with you, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer.

You moved your lips against his, relishing the fact that he was there and you were there. Maybe it was fleeting, maybe he would pull away and say he just wanted to fuck and you’d have to have that conversation. But, in that moment, you just sank into Hitoshi’s touch, throwing your arms over his shoulders and tangling deft fingers into his unruly hair.

You could handle whatever future you were given. Just a morsel of Hitoshi’s soft but unbridled affections felt like more than enough.

(Little did you know how much of him you were to receive.)

Hitoshi pulled away, but hardly. He stayed so close to you, pupils blown wide as his breath fanned of your cheekbones. You so, so wanted to surge forward and drown in him, but you held yourself fast.

He surprised you by letting out his own shaking breath, all the way in his chest. Your eyes widened.

“You’re such an idiot—” Hitoshi laughed and you faltered for a moment. It must’ve shown on your face because his hands started rubbing at your sides.

He kissed you softly again. Something chaste and sweet, like a type of summer fruit that stains your lips.

He pulled away again, lips parted and scanning you.

“You have to say it.” You told him, trying to keep your voice firm, but failing.

“Say what?” He teased, peppering the side of your face with kisses.

You made a small, half-annoyed noise, pushing lightly at his choice, “You know what, Hitoshi.”

He paused, dragging you tighter to him. A hand came up to cup your neck, fingers tracing idle patterns on your pulse point.

The look he wore (so well) was one of pure tenderness that made you ache in the best possible way.

“Of course I like you.” Hitoshi kissed you again.

You were too stunned for words.

Hitoshi kept going, his own tension apparently having broken as well.

(Duh.)

“You have no fucking idea how much I adore you—” He spoke against your lips, hands digging into your sides as you pulled lightly at his hair. You both craved closeness and finally had it. “How much I’ve wanted this, you—”

You whine into his mouth, pressing into him with everything you had.

His touch felt heavenly. After so many months, years of pent up romantic and sexual tension, his hands felt like divine fire against you. Every part of you ached for more of him, as now you were finally able to express your desires.

You pulled away, just enough to lean your foreheads together. Hitoshi’s pupils were blown wide, flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked, voice still small.

Hitoshi chuckled, popping a quick kiss onto your nose, “Honestly? I didn’t want you to think I was only your friend because I wanted fuck you.”

Your insides twisted.

“Do... you only want to fuck?” You asked, any movement to pull away blocked by Hitoshi’s hold on you. Your heart hammered in your chest.

You definitely wanted more than just a fuck, but you’d take what you could get.

(You wouldn’t have to.)

“Oh, no, not at all,” Hitoshi spoke matter of factly, wearing the smuggest grin. His lips went to just below the shell of your ear, “There’s plenty more that I want from you, (Y/N).”

“Hitoshi,” You nearly moaned his name as his lips brushed against your ear. “You g-gotta be careful, saying shit like that.”

“Why's that?” Hitoshi’s lips met the fragile skin of your neck and sank into him.

“You k-know why,” Your words trembled as he left trails of kisses against your neck.

All you wanted was more.

“Tell me. I love hearing your voice,” Hitoshi crooned against your neck, pressing at the small of your back so you arched into him.

His words were so damn sweet, it made you melt inside and out as a high moan dribbled from your lips.

Hitoshi nearly growled against your neck, sucking at the skin at your collar. You fisted the back of his sweater, toes curling against the carpet—

And then a soft knock echoed from the door.

You both stopped dead, freezing.

Quickly, Hitoshi straightened out, but not before pressing a loving kiss to the skin he bruised.

“Foods here.” He smiled at you as you breathed, open-mouth and near panting.

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

Hitoshi came back from the door with the food, setting it on the coffee table and falling onto the couch. You followed suit as Hitoshi took out a few takeout boxes, handing one to you.

“I got that breakfast combination you always get, I hope that’s okay,” Hitoshi passed you a fork as you nodded.

“How are you so calm right now?” You asked, turning to him and folding your legs under your body.

Hitoshi turned as well, raising an eyebrow and holding up one of his hands between the two of you.

It was shaking violently.

“Not calm, at all. Just composed,” Hitoshi broke into his own food, taking a bite. “Eat something, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t fight him on that. Despite the elated, anxious, (horny) twisting of your gut, the smell of comfort food soothed you after such an eventful night.

The two of you ate in relative silence, both in shared contemplation. It was comfortable, sounds of the city neighborhood and old house filling the space with enough ambient noise to feel natural.

You finally set down your empty box, eyes flickering to Hitoshi as he finished off his food, a bit of egg stuck to his fork.

“I was being serious earlier, you know,” You rubbed at the fabric of your dress, suddenly very aware of the way it rode so high. “About sleeping in your bed rather than the couch.”

“I figured you were,” Hitoshi replied, setting his own food down to face you. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“Let’s clear the air then, if that’s okay,” You asked, a bit uncertain.

It all felt a lot better when Hitoshi grabbed one of your hands, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. He nodded to you to keep talking.

“So, I like you. You like me.” You began.

Hitoshi nodded again, a cute smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.

“You... don’t just want to fuck?” Your words sounded unsure, but Hitoshi quickly nodded.

“I’d prefer more, but I’ll take what I can get,” Hitoshi shrugged.

You definitely felt somewhat settled and a whole lot less insecure.

If anything, you felt bold.

Very bold.

Before Hitoshi could react, you shoved Hitoshi’s shoulder into the back of the couch. Your bare legs went over either side of Hitoshi’s built thighs, squeezing as you straddled him.

You could feel the way your dress rode up, almost showing off your ass.

(Not like Hitoshi already hadn’t seen it that night—)

You stared him up and down with lowered lips, biting your lip gently.

His violet tresses were wild, roughed up from the night’s events. His cheeks were stained pink, eyes tearing over your figure.

His hands darted to your waist, rubbing his thumbs over your ribs.

“What do you want?” Hitoshi asked, finally breaking his composure with cute, breathless words.

Your trembling hands cupped his face as you leaned into him. Your ghosted your lips over his, breath mingling as you spoke, well aware of what you were doing.

“I just want you, Hitoshi. All of you. I think I have for a long time.”

That was enough for the two of you.

Hitoshi grabbed at you with a possession that made your insides turn to jelly. His lips pressing to your own, licking in your mouth with a fervor that you craved. One of his hands moved to just below your ass, squeezing the flesh with a grip that was sure to bruise. His other hand tangled into your hair, pulling you to angle your mouth just right against his own.

His actions had a fever to them, hands and lips moving in a way that pulled and pushed you perfectly. You knew from goddamn kink night, that Hitoshi was a far more dominant person, but now that you were getting a personal taste? You felt intoxicated by his demanding touch.

All you could do was grab onto the front of his sweater, kissing him with everything you had.

As Hitoshi’s hand slid up to your ass, you experimentally ground down on the growing bulge in his jeans.

He let out a broken moan, roughly grabbing your backside and moving for you to repeat the motion. You arched into the friction, keening in the back of your throat as Hitoshi nipped at your jaw.

“Fuck, Hitoshi,” You moaned, your hands trailing down his chest to tease at the hem of his sweater.

Hitoshi wasn’t one to be beat, licking a line from your collarbone to your ear, biting and kissing to his heart's content. Your hips stuttered against his own, both of you moaning in tandem. His hardened cock pressing against your practically bare sex made your head spin with potential.

You grabbed at his hips beneath his sweater, dipping just below his waistband—

Suddenly, Hitoshi pulled away from your neck, breathing hard and slow. He swallowed, grabbing your face in both of his hands and peppering slow kisses all over your face.

“You have no fucking idea—” Hitoshi kissed your roughly, squeezing at your jaw. You moaned so prettily for him as he swallowed your sounds with a groan. He pulled away, sighing deeply, “how badly I want to keep going, but—”

You finished his sentence, sighing and touching your forehead to his, “It has been a long night.”

Hitoshi made a noise of agreement, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before you pulled back, “Is that alright?”

You shook out your own breath, nodding, “Of course. I want to keep going too, but I don’t want to rush anything. Wanna make sure we’re comfy, you know?”

Hitoshi rumbled out a laugh, pulling you into a solid embrace. His nose pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, nuzzling into you, “You gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N).”

You raised your eyebrow, threading your hands through his hair, feeling how he instantly relaxed into your touch, “What did I do?”

“I mean, your existence is pretty sweet. Cute too. Sexy. Hot. I could go on,” Hitoshi nipped at your neck, daring to suck gently at the weak skin. “But, I think that would just rile me up more.”

“Good point,” You gently tugged his hair to bring his face back to yours. “Your room?”

He kissed you in reply.

The shattering of tension left a gentle warmth running through you, and you couldn’t wait to see what else was to come.

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

The two of you swayed upstairs hand-in-hand.

It felt weirdly domestic, rubbing off your makeup with the cleansing wipes you had long stored at Hitoshi’s for late nights studying or drinking.

He stood next to you, brushing his teeth in a roomy tee and sweats. You still wore your party dress, rumpled and a bit too dirty for comfort. You found yourself glaring your body down, remembering the very sour event of the evening. Your skin crawled and itched.

Hitoshi caught it easily. He knew you so well.

“You wanna ‘showber?” Hitoshi’s words came out garbled through the foam in his mouth.

“That might be best, yeah,” You sighed in some form of defeat, nervously rubbing your arms for a moment. Hitoshi spit and rinsed as you finished removing the mascara from your eyes.

As you finished, Hitoshi urged you to sit on the toilet seat, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he darted from the room. You straightened up at the freely given affection, loving the way your heart pounded. He returned quickly, carrying a fluffy towel and a pile of folded clothes.

“Take your time. If you need anything, just shout, okay?” Hitoshi laid them on the counter and squatted down in front of you, taking your hands in his and squeezing.

You nodded.

It wasn’t the first time you had taken a shower at Hitoshi’s. You could only be thankful that he and Sero had good enough hygiene habits that it was fairly clean for a college house.

You felt damn near euphoric, getting to wash the sweat, fear, touches and smoke from your skin and hair. You took extra care to cleanse your body the best you could, washing everything properly and thoroughly.

(You know, just in case.)

(For the morning.)

You digress.

Warmed and feeling far more clean both mentally and physically, you toweled off and slipped into the clothes Hitoshi left. The shirt he gave you was way too large, nearly hanging off of one of your shoulders. He must’ve had it mixed in with laundry as it held the scent of his pine-ish cologne that had always made you melt. The sweats he loaned to you also fit poorly, but you didn’t mind too much.

You padded your way into Hitoshi’s room.

It was a familiar spot. Many nights were spent here drunkenly carousing with your pals, rolling on the worn hardwood. Many hours had been spent splayed out on the floor, both of you pouring over textbooks and academic journals, constructing brutal papers with the aid of unhealthy amounts of lukewarm black coffee.

Hitoshi’s room, for a long time, strangely, had been incredibly comfortable and safe. On a night like this one, you couldn't be more glad.

His room was dimly lit, yellowish string lights hung on the ceiling. They dimly illuminated the many gig posters, prints, and thrifted picture frames he had amassed over the years. A desk in the corner, an aged dresser, and a (blessedly) queen-sized bed with a comfy black duvet.

You blinked at Hitoshi, noting the lack of his usual clutter around the room, “Did you clean while I was in the shower?”

Hitoshi was standing in the corner, tapping away at his phone with a furrowed brow, but managed to look up and flash you a smile, “Maybe.”

You chuckled, walking up to him and comfortably wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his arm. You felt him jump a bit, but quickly relax.

It was all new to both of you, but very welcome.

“Is everything alright?” You asked, watching the way Hitoshi frowned at his phone.

He ran a hand over his face, sighing, “How surprised would you be if I told you Denki and Hanta blacked out and puked on the way back?”

“Not very surprised, but still, yikes,” You looked up at Hitoshi. “Are they coming back here? I’ll babysit if you have to, too.”

He turned to give you a small, sympathetic smile, “That is very sweet of you, but it sounds like they’re going to crash Momo’s or Katsuki’s.”

You felt... suspicious.

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyes darting to your purse on his nightstand, “I haven’t checked the group chat, but did you put something in the group chat?

Hitoshi took a sharp inhale, a cute blush painting his nose and cheeks, “It may have slipped that we finally... said we liked each other.”

“May have?” You raised an eyebrow.

“There may have been a betting pool that I have just been made aware of—”

“Did... Did they all know?”

“And, they wanted to give us some privacy—”

You covered your face with your hands, leaning into him, “Jesus fucking—”

“Very considerate of them, considering,” Hitoshi sighed, pocketing his phone and wrapping his arms over your shoulders. “I’d much rather be sleeping next to you than dealing with blackout Denki.”

“True, true,” You sighed, uncovering your face to look up at Hitoshi. He was beaming at you with a look of adoration that made your chest ache. You frowned, “Are you gonna be able to sleep?”

You knew of Hitoshi’s insomnia well. Though you could manage to sleep, his inability to fall into slumber was something he wrestled with daily. You knew he was able to sleep some, but it was a great difficulty and was the root cause of his incessant caffeine consumption.

“I’m gonna try, if not, it’ll be okay, I’ll at least be very comfortable,” He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “Besides, it’s easier to sleep next to someone.”

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “Like, has it always been easier for you to sleep with someone?”

Hitoshi gave a little sigh, nodding.

“Dummy,” You snorted, lightly flicking his nose. “You could’ve asked me.”

“To... Sleep with me?” Hitoshi blinked down at you.

“Yeah. I would’ve said yes,” you shrugged easily. It was hardly a question. Even if you didn’t have incredibly strong feelings for Hitoshi, you would’ve tried to help. “I’ve always cared about you like that.”

Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a big inhale, the hands on your arms speeding up a little, “You have no idea what you do to me, do you, (Y/N)?”

Your gut dropped, “I don’t—”

Hitoshi didn’t give you a chance to fully answer him before leaning down abruptly and scooping you into his arms. Your arms flew to his neck for purchase as he cradled you to his chest, squeezing and walking to the bed.

“You are just so fucking sweet,” Hitoshi set you down on the bed, allowing you to adjust yourself to look up at him. You sat on your legs, kneeling while looking up at him.

He bit his lip, eyes widened and glassy looking down at you. You gulped as you heard his shaking breaths, felt his trembling hand cup your cheek.

“You’re way too good,” Hitoshi breathed, shaking his head.

The incredibly tense sexual aura of the moment dissipated as Hitoshi sat next to you on the bed, scooting to the inside of the mattress and pulling up the comforter.

Part of you was disappointed, feeling lingering pressure between your thighs, but the more sensical part of you was very tired and wanted nothing more than to finally hold Hitoshi and fall into sleep.

“Hey, get over here,” Hitoshi knocked you from your thoughts as his arms wrapped around your waist. He dragged you up, fitting you in the crook of his arm, pressing his nose into your hair. “If you’re in my bed, you’re gonna be in my bed, fully committed.”

“I’m not complaining,” You purred, more than satisfied with throwing your leg of his own, curling in his chest.

Part of you wanted to check, to confirm that all of this was okay. The night had been a lot and you were sure both of you were pretty keyed up from everything. Getting together with Hitoshi was hardly the outcome you expected of the ‘sex party,’ but you weren’t going to complain. Fuck, you could hardly do anything as Hitoshi’s cologne, heat, and firm body were already lulling your body to sleep.

“You are sleeping, aren’t ‘ya?” Hitoshi teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You made a small noise, the most you could muster before burying yourself at his collarbone.

Sleep quickly took you under, Hitoshi beaming you the sweetest smile and lavishing you with quiet, subtle affections as not to wake you.

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

You woke up to dawn light streaming in through a slit in a familiar set of curtains. You grumbled, half-awake, but really not wanting to move. You were too comfortable. Warmth filled your body, peace floated over your slumber-hazed mind and you couldn’t help letting out a content sigh.

The presence of heat let out a familiar chuckle.

You slowly opened your eyes again, becoming aware of the fact that you were half sprawled over Hitoshi. He was looking down at you, sweetly, eyebrow raised.

You literally gasped.

Hitoshi’s hair was tousled and far more wild with bedhead. The amethyst yolks of his eyes were lit up by the early morning light, and he just beamed down at you.

“You’re so pretty,” You let slip.

The events of the night prior became fresh in your mind. The good ones far outweighed the bad. It was even easier to ignore any and all sour feelings because fucking finally you and Hitoshi were in bed together.

Finally.

“Why, thank you. You’re pretty beautiful yourself, you know.”

You were going to nut.

His. Voice.

It was always deep, a rolling bass, but addled with sleep? It was graveled and coarse and it made you literally wet.

“Fuck.” Was all you could muster as you slowly sat up.

Hitoshi squeezed you around your ribs, a knowing look and smile stretched across his face.

The hold on your waist reminded you that Hitoshi was, in fact, holding you. His hands, soft for how large they were, massaged slow, deep circles just above your hips and through your borrowed shirt. You had to have slept tucked up into him like that all night.

You hoped there would be many more like it.

“Did you sleep okay?” You asked, your own voice rough.

Hitoshi grinned drowsily, “I did. It’s a hell of a lot easier next to you.”

You couldn’t suppress the way your lips curled into a smile. Leaning forward, you ran your hands up his chest to brace yourself, leaving a soft kiss on his lips, “I’m glad. Very glad. Wanna do it again sometime?”

“Oh, (Y/N),” Hitoshi rumbled, hands moving up to tickle lightly at your ribs. “Now that I’ve gotten a taste of how lovely it is to sleep next you, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you sleep anywhere else.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Let me? Interesting word choice.”

“Intentional word choice,” Hitoshi’s eyes darkened, tracing your form as he wet his lips, “You like a bit of control exerted on you, don’t you, (Y/N)?”

You shuddered as Hitoshi dragged you closer, up his body so your hips straddled his own.

“I mean, yeah,” you breathed, clothes beginning to feel way too hot atop your skin. “You were there for kink night, weren’t you?”

You tried to joke, but Hitoshi didn’t let you.

“I was there,” One of Hitoshi’s hands tangled into your hair, rubbing affectionately, but your gut told you he had other, more particular, plans. “And, I have a good memory.”

Without missing a beat, Hitoshi flipped the two of you.

Your back hit the mattress and knocked the wind out of you. A breathy gasp fell from your lips, unabashed as Hitoshi was suspended on top of you.

You almost spoke, but then you noticed the way Hitoshi was looking at you, and you couldn’t. Whatever breath that laid in your lungs slowly dripped out.

He was looking at you like a man starved.

His eyes glittered as he traced each curve of your body, pliant and beginning to tremble under his touchless attention.

“Y-you’re bold, you know that?” You managed to stutter out.

Hitoshi chuckled to himself, shaking his head, “Just observant. You always say that I’m a good listener.”

You shuddered as Hitoshi leaned down, nose trailing down your jaw to your pulse point. He paused above the fluttering beat of your heart before licking a strip down your neck with the flat of his tongue.

“Jesus, Hitoshi,” You scraped out, swallowing as heat rushed through your tense body.

He pulled away, only to hover just above your face, staring into your eyes with an intensity that would be stifling from anyone else other than him.

“Do you want me to keep going? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” Holy fuck, did Hitoshi’s voice somehow get lower? Is that what fucking happened when he got horny?

You were going to die.

“No, no, we should keep going, yes,” You really tried not to sound desperate, but it hardly mattered. Hitoshi could more than tell, he knew you so well.

You didn’t give him a chance to tease you, hands clasping behind his head to gently pull him down to your lips.

God, you were positive you wouldn’t ever tire of Hitoshi in any way. Everything about him seemed so right, good and perfect especially near you.

Hitoshi nipped at your bottom lip, one of his hands insistently rubbing at the bones of your hip. You shuddered at the onslaught of sensations, slotting your mouth against his to bring him as close as you could manage.

One of your hands flitted down his frame, tugging at the hem of his sleep shirt. You’d seen Hitoshi shirtless plenty of times, eyed him as much as was acceptable for ‘bros’, and then moved on with a reddened face, but you would be damned if you weren’t going to ogle him a bit, now that you had the open opportunity to.

Hitoshi sat back on your hips, pulling his shirt over his head with ease and became what you could only be certain was a manifestation of your dreams.

It was clear he indeed had very much been working out, all the muscles of his abs and arms were toned and well-used, even holding a bit of the tan from when he started his training last summer.

You noted, drool puddling in your mouth, that he (and assumedly Denki) did get their nipples pierced for their ten-year friend-iversary last fall. Cute barbels hung from his nipples, surprising, but also very hot. You followed the ‘v’ of his hips to the waistband of the soft grey sweatpants he was wearing, noting with a shocked raise of the eyebrows that Hitoshi was already considerably hard and considerably large.

“You like what you see?” Hitoshi teased, leaning back over you to worry at your neck with a few well-placed licks.

You swallowed, hands pressing to his chest, running up and down the soft skin before going to pinch one of his nipples, “I really do, fuck.”

Hitoshi’s breath stutters against your neck, “Like ‘em?”

“I thought you two were kidding.”

“Oh, never—!”

Hitoshi’s words were yanked from his chest as you pinched and twisted both of his nipples, albeit lightly. You were doing it partially to get a reaction and gauge how sensitive he was. With the way he whined from the back of his throat, you inferred that he was very sensitive.

“Aren’t there more important things you could be doing with your hands?” You chided, though not an edge of malice was in your voice.

Hitoshi just seemed spurred on by this, grunting and swiping your wrists into his grip. Your hands were pressed above your head, pinned to the mattress by his body weight.

A low whine spun from the back of your throat.

“You’re really lucky that I like brats and that I love you—”

Both of you paused.

He...

Did he just—

Did he just drop the L bomb?

He dropped the L BOMB .

You stared up at Hitoshi, frowning at the absolute terror in his eyes.

“I, I mean, I didn’t mean it like that,” Hitoshi sat back up on you, nervousness in every motion of his body. “I just meant—”

“Hey,” You interrupted, sitting up with him. “I love you too, you know. I’m pretty sure I have.”

Hitoshi doesn’t say anything for a minute and neither do you. You’re both in stunned silence. Enraptured by the other, your forms painted with the precious, vibrant gold that streamed in from the curtained window. The other sounds were that of the ambient city awakening and the unsteady breath that was shared between the two of you.

It was oddly perfect, and neither of you complained.

“So,” Hitoshi broke the silence, running his hands up your arms. “I love you.”

Oh, did it feel like a drug to hear his morning voice say the new phrase in such a way.

You nodded, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his navel, “And I love you.”

“Then, it’s settled.”

There was certainly more to discuss involving the nature of your relationship, including the fact that you both had your heads so far up your asses for so long and were definitely in denial for a good portion of time, and that your love was a lot more complicated than either of you were making it out to be.

But, you both certainly shared the history for it.

All of the late nights where you both eyed the other secretly, turning away at the last moment before being noticed.

There were plenty small moments of caring, too.

There was the way how whenever you were over, you made Hitoshi a new pot of coffee, no matter if the old one was out.

There was Hitoshi’s intentional habit and insistence (that had lasted years) that he walked you back from parties, sharing cigarettes or half-carrying you. He never minded.

There was the way you had memorized each other's takeout orders months ago.

There was the small drawer in Hitoshi’s desk that was dedicated to things you left and might need. Several extra pairs of socks, makeup remover, a spare notebook, an extra laptop charger for when you inevitably forgot your own.

There was, of course, the way that you and Hitoshi were currently looking at each other. Fuck whatever fragile, easy-to-tear-away eye contact that had been occurring between the two of you for years, all that there was now between was the collection of lost time.

“Please kiss me.”

The request was obliged.

Hitoshi was quick to pin you back to the mattress, bratty behavior forgotten and stored away. There would be plenty of time to explore that mutual side of your relationship, but now only desire was Hitoshi and your shared pleasure.

Your lips slotted together, pulling a moan from your chest as Hitoshi immediately licked his into your mouth. It was a bit sloppy, rushed in the heat of the moment, but he quickly slowed down. Cupping your jaw, he deepened the kiss as you moved against him, lightly rolling your hips for any sort of friction.

You were the first to pull away, nosing to his jaw and lavishing it with bites and kisses. The rough groans and grunts that Hitoshi spilled were all the motivation you needed to go lower and lower on his neck.

Marking him as you pleased, you sucked at the skin of his neck, leaving bruises and spittle in your wake. You teasingly blew at the wet spots a few times, loving the way he shivered against you.

Hitoshi wasn’t to be outplayed, hands roving over your body. He left quick squeezes and rolled his thumbs anywhere he could reach. It was like he had to touch everything.

Your back arched and you cried into his neck as Hitoshi’s hands squeezed your breasts over your shirt, worrying a nipple with the pads of his fingers in the same way that you did to him earlier.

“Can’t take what you dish out?” Hitoshi chuckled in your ear as you squirmed underneath him.

You shook your head, biting on one of his collar bones, “I want more.”

His lips were back on your own before you could think.

You could feel how wet you were getting, unattended heat that desperately needed contact of any kind. As Hitoshi’s teeth nipped your neck, trailing lower to the wide collar of your shirt, it only got worse.

“Can I take this off?” Hitoshi asked, ever the gentleman.

You didn’t answer, but rather whipped your shirt off as quickly as possible.

And then your upper half was bared to him.

Your breasts spilled with gravity and rose and fell with your own light panting, glistening with sweaty dew.

You swallowed as Hitoshi’s hand went to your navel, flat-palmed. Slowly, he dragged it upwards, stopped to palm your tits only for a moment. You took note of how thick his fingers were and how you wanted nothing more than for them to fuck you into oblivion.

His fingers trailed to your sternum, then to your throat, tracing up the column before roughly grabbing your jaw.

“You,” Hitoshi voice sounded thick as he pressed his knee into your sex. “Have no idea what you to do me.”

“Then fucking show me.” You spit back out at him, one of your hands teasing at the top of his waistband,

Fuck Hitoshi’s knee, apparently, because he immediately slid down the bed to hover in between your legs.

You snapped your knees closed out of surprise, all the same dripping against your panties

“You want me to show you?” Hitoshi seemed to be speaking more to himself than you. “Then I will.”

Hitoshi slipped his thumbs under the waistband of the borrowed sweats, pulling them down and off of you with ease. He situated himself back between your legs, parting you by your inner thighs with a bruising grip.

You heard his sharp intake of breath as he hovered so close to your sex.

“Already so wet for me? I’m flattered.” Hitoshi didn’t give you any chance to quip back as he licked your slit through your thin panties.

You squirmed for him, all for him.

“Please, more, ‘Toshi,” Your voice was warped with pleading, but you could hardly care. The burning look that Hitoshi flashed you was more than enough to nonverbally explain his intentions.

He set to marking up your thighs, murmuring sweet nothings to and about the flesh and how you cried out for him so well. He dotted you with lovely bruises, kissing closer and closer to your dripping cunt.

With one final, pleading look, Hitoshi all but tore off the thin panties you wore and ravished you.

He licked from your opening to your clit with a flat tongue, making your thighs stiffen and toes curl. You felt him hum against you as he shifted your legs over his shoulder. One of his arms wrapped under your thigh, pressing at the bottom of your tummy and locking you in place.

He sucked hard on your clit, just once, almost as some sexual litmus test to assess your ability to move freely.

It was very low as all you could do was arch for him, whines filling the air.

It seemed like it was more than enough for him.

Hitoshi tongue fucked you sloppy, refusing to give you any more stimulation on your clit, no matter how you tried to buck at his face. All Hitoshi’s hold would allow you to do was gently grind against his face as slick and spit soaked the bed below. It was more than enough to make your brain gummy, craving nothing more and more of his touch.

You squeezed your thighs around Hitoshi’s cheeks as he carefully pressed one of his aforementioned thick fingers into your cunt. Hot pleasure permeated every corner of you as you panted for Hitoshi, all for him.

He curled his finger just right and you screamed.

Hitoshi was quick to take the hint, pushing around another inside to repeat the motion, lips, and tongue working your clit as the pressure built beautifully.

“You close, kitten?” Hitoshi’s words were muffled by your cunt, but holy fuck, you knew exactly what he said.

You whined at the use of the word, nodding and panting out a muddled affirmative.

Hitoshi sucked lewdly at the mess between your legs, pulling your body to the apex of its hot pressure, before breaking.

Your back curled off the bed, Hitoshi’s hold released to all you to fully fuck his face as he slurped at the juices between your thighs. Your mind went fuzzy as pleasure crackled through your frame, fingers curling into the rumpled fabric below and your head bowing back into the pillows.

You slowly came down, twitching as Hitoshi continued to kiss around your sex. You could half-tell he was grinding against the bed; he was that turned on.

You sat up, swaying a bit, drunk on bliss, and already semi-fucked out.

Yet, you still wanted more.

“‘Toshi, please,” You looked at him helplessly.

He sat up on his knees, hands going to play with your tits as he raised a smug eyebrow, face wet with you, “Want my cock, kitten? Is that it?”

“Holy fuck, ‘Toshi, please,” Your voice came out as mixture between a whine and growl as Hitoshi chuckled, reaching to the side for the nightstand and condoms, you assumed.

“I thought I’d have to do more to get you begging, with that little bratty shit you pulled earlier,” He mused, stepping off the bed for only a moment to finally pull off his sweats.

If your mouth had been any more open, drool would have fallen into your lap.

Hitoshi was, once again, sculpted. The guy put in work and it showed. That was less important and less relevant as you were currently lewdly, literally, drooling over his cock. It wasn’t only cervix-shatteringly long, but it was thick and curved just right. It was flushed, fully hard against his abs and leaking beads of preek, all from the friction of the bed and giving you head.

“Can I do it?” You asked as Hitoshi unwrapped the condom.

He nodded, cheekily, handing you the package.

You crawled to the edge of the bed, stopping to sit on your knees as he stood above you. Carefully, you rolled the rubber on, clenching your thighs together as your oversensitive cunt throbbed.

You stared at its girth, biting your lip nervously and looked up at Hitoshi.

Immediately, his gaze softened and he caught your face in his hand, thumbing over your cheek, “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, just, uh,” You stumbled over your words, gaze flipping from his very pretty cock and his very pretty face. “Do you have lube? It’s been a while and I don’t want to tear.”

“I do,” Hitoshi’s worry dissolved, pulling a bottle from the same drawer and tossing it on to the bed. “And, I will try my best not to tear you. We can go as slow or as fast as you like, hm?”

You nodded, biting your lip and crawling back onto the bed.

Hitoshi cooed sweet words to you as the two of you adjusted. Perhaps it was to his own natural nervousness, or maybe yours. All the same, the loving comments about your body and how good you were for him turned you to putty underneath him.

Your legs were thrown up over his shoulders, feet prepared to lock behind his head. Hitoshi knelt between your legs, holding your thighs spread as his lubed cock ran over your folds.

“Tell me if you need me to go slower, okay?” Hitoshi reminded you, ever attentive.

You gulped as Hitoshi breached your cunt with the head of his cock and holy fuck. You stretched, and it burned, but it was nothing that you couldn’t handle. Hitoshi kept praising you, running his lips wherever they could reach as he leaned over your pillow-propped form. Inch by inch, he pushed into you, stopping when your breathing got too harsh.

And then, Hitoshi’s cock was fully sheathed into you and you felt so fucking full, you could die.

“Hey, ‘Toshi?” You spoke breathlessly, wiping sweaty strands of violet hair from his cheeks. “I love you, okay? For a lot more than your dick, but this is a huge perk and I’d feel bad not saying so.”

He was still and silent for a moment, head bent out of your view.

“You’re gonna tell me, while I’m buried this deep in this cute, little cunt of yours, such sweet shit? That you love me?” Hitoshi growled, darkened eyes lust-hazed.

You nodded.

Hitoshi swiftly pulled almost entirely out of cunt, only to slam back into you, angling your hips perfectly to hit your g-spot.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, head thrown back and you gave a breaking wail, body shaking with the sudden cracking of pleasure.

And, Hitoshi didn’t relent.

He continued his hard, deep, and long thrusts, increasing his speed as he felt you loosen for him. With each thrust, wet squelching sounds spurred the two of you on.

Hitoshi’s face buried itself in your neck, sucking harsh marks that sparked pain across your heated skin. You couldn’t get enough of it. You couldn’t get enough of him.

Hitoshi accented each thrust with a more desperate, broken sounding ‘I love you,’ quickly unraveling at the seams as his thrusts and kisses became more erratic.

He reached between the two of you, blessedly circling your clit as your own orgasm was close to cresting.

You came before Hitoshi, just by a second, the clenching of your cunt and the way you moaned his name being more than enough for him to blow his load, fucking you through both of your orgasms.

You both stilled, panting.

Hitoshi fell next to you on the bed, instantly pulling you to his chest and smothering you with kisses. You returned them, shuddering and coming down from the earth-shattering peak you had just been at.

“Fuck, Hitoshi,” You squeezed around your arms around his waist. “You fuck like a god.”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, “You say shit like that and it’s gonna inflate my ego.”

“Guess I gotta keep saying it, then.”

You smiled up at him, moving to straddle his waist, ignoring your bodily complaints.

“I love you, you know,” Hitoshi beams from below you, looking at you with a reverence that you craved for so long, but were too afraid to voice.

You let out a shaking breath, smiling right back, “I love you, too.”

Hitoshi pulled you in for a sweet kiss you returned easily, smiling against his lips, melting into him—

His cock hardened against your thigh.

“Round two?” Considering the smiles you beamed each other, that was a definite ‘yes, please’.

But, you were rudely interrupted by the slammed of the front door. You both stiffened, Hitoshi immediately going to grab your waist and drag you onto the bed. He threw a blanket over you, but it was hardly necessary.

Denki’s voice rang over the house, “HEY! Did y’all fuck yet? If you did, please tell me. I’m against Mina in the betting pool and I’m in deep.”

All you and Hitoshi could spare was a laugh and a sweet kiss, before you shouted back, “What do you think?!”

#salem writes #shinso hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #mha reader insert #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinsou x you #my hero academia shinsou

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iwritesickfic · 3 years ago

Text

"i kinda have a crush"

synopsis: Henry has a crush on his roommate's best friend Tom. When he gets sick, he's not sure whether Tom's concern means he feels the same.

Henry doesn't have time for a cold. Especially not now. Finals start next week, and between studying for exams, finishing final projects, and going to class, pretty much all his time is going to be occupied. Today, he woke up with a headache and a sore throat, which he's trying to convince himself is just a product of poor sleep, but deep down he knows is just the beginning of something worse to come.

Now, he's in his room, wrapped in his comforter and highlighting passages in his bio textbook, hearing his roommate Sam and his loud friends watching something equally loud in the living room. It's useless trying to ask them to quiet down - he learned after the sixth or seventh time asking that even though they all seem accommodating, they forget pretty quickly. Normally he'd be able to tune them out, but his steadily worsening headache is making it near impossible.

He gets up and starts pulling on clothes - the walk to the library may be freezing, but at least he'll get some quiet. Leaving his room, he's aware of how pissed off he must look, but he doesn't care enough to feign politeness to Sam and his friends.

He heads to the kitchen and grabs his travel mug - he's going to need coffee if he's going to last at the library. He's just filling it up when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hey! Henry! I didn't know you were home!" It's Tom. He's probably Sam's best friend - at the very least, he's the friend who's over more than anyone else. Henry suppresses a sigh. Tom is the exact kind of guy he doesn't like. Bro-y, athletic, always overly friendly to everyone - it just comes off as phony. It also just so happens that guys like this are always very attractive, and Tom is no exception. He turns around to grab milk from the fridge.

"Hey," he says, trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels.

"If I knew you were here I would've been a little quieter - you have finals coming up too, right?" Tom asks, leaning against the door frame in that way he always does.

"Mmhmm. It's fine. I'm going to the library." Talking to Tom is not helping the throbbing in his head. He starts to add the sugar and milk to his coffee.

"Are you sure? I can ask the guys to quiet down."

"No, it's fine." He snaps the cover onto his coffee and starts toward the door.

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, you too." When he closes the front door he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He starts down the stairs. Being around people like that is exhausting on a normal day - Henry's always been quiet. Reserved. With the beginnings of a cold it's almost aggravating.

The frigid air outside makes his throat burn and his eyes water. His nose starts to run too, and he hopes it's just the temperature and not a new symptom. Knowing his luck he's going to be the one annoying person in the library constantly sniffling.

His time at the library is mostly uneventful, apart from going through a pack of travel tissues and getting dirty looks from other students. By the time they're ready to close, he feels significantly worse than he did this morning, but he's finished his biology review and is almost done with a paper for Transformative Design.

The trudge home feels like it takes forever - it's only about a 15 minute walk, but between the cold and feeling like crap it seems neverending. He can hear from the hallway outside the apartment that Sam's friends are still here, which makes him want to tear his hair out.

It's almost midnight when they leave, so it's only about that time he can get to sleep. He has class the next morning at 8, and when he wakes up with his alarm, he knows he's in for a full blown cold. His head still aches, and his sinuses feel sore and swollen. His throat kills too, and he feels shivery, despite the heavy comforter.

He lets himself lie in bed for a while, sniffling and trying to absorb as much warmth as he can from the comforter, before he drags himself up. He immediately pulls on his warmest sweater, even though he's just going to the bathroom. It doesn't help the shivering much, but it's something. He probably looks ridiculous, in just a pair of boxers and his oversized sweater, but he feels so shitty he doesn't really care.

Walking by the couch, he sees Tom asleep, shirtless. His heart flutters - he knew Tom was fit but it was something else to see it. The butterflies are almost annoying. There a million guys on campus, why does he have to get so worked up over this one?

In the shower, he cranks up the heat and lets the steam ease the aching in his sinuses. He's in there for too long, but the thought of having to actually walk to class in the cold makes him reluctant to get out.

He arrives to class a few minutes late - nose still dripping from the cold. Luckily today is just a lecture, but it's a five hour class, and he didn't have time to make any coffee this morning. He brought another little travel pack of tissues, but he's definitely going to have to ration them.

He's still shivering. It's worse after being out in the cold, and even though it should get better over time, nothing changes. He just sits there, achy and shivering and congested and miserable until 10:30, when the professor calls for a 10 minute break. Thank god. He needs coffee. There's a small shop in the building, so he forces himself up and out of his seat - which leads to a few seconds of particularly bad throbbing in his head - and out into the hall.

He almost groans when he sees who's working. Tom. Of course he's been to this little coffee spot a million times and he knows it's where Tom works, but he didn't think he'd have to see him this morning. Part of him is annoyed - he definitely does not have the energy to deal with him at the moment - but another part is a little embarrassed at how awful he must look. Not that he should care what Tom thinks of him, he reminds himself. Regardless, he walks up the counter, half occupied rubbing at his nose with a tissue.

"Hey," he says, and is surprised how congested he sounds. Tom turns, eyes lighting up.

"Hey!" He dims a little when he takes in his full appearance. "You ok?" Henry sniffles.

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get-"

"Large hot coffee, oat milk and sugar, right?" Henry's taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. You know my order?"

"Of course. It's an easy order." He goes about starting to make the drink. "Hope we didn't keep you up last night. I kept telling Sam to shut the fuck up but he doesn't listen to me."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He sniffles again.

"You sound like you're coming down with something."

"And you sound like my mom." That makes Tom laugh, and again, Henry feels a stirring in his chest. Tom puts the lid on the drink and hands it to him, and Henry tries to hand him the money. Tom shakes his head.

"That's ok - on the house." That draws a little smile out of Henry. Tom smiles back, and for a minute he forgets how shitty he feels. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

He heads back to class and sits down, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes great, as always when Tom makes it, and the warmth helps to ease the chills at least somewhat. The rest of the lecture is spent half paying attention, and half worrying his sniffling and nose blowing is annoying. When it's finally over, he wants nothing more than to just go home and take a nap, but he has a problem set for calculus due tomorrow that he hasn't even started. So, reluctantly, he makes the trek to the library. He's able to work for most of the day uninterrupted - he's not very hungry, which maybe should be concerning but is convenient nonetheless.

By the time he's done, it's already dark out, and the walk home is brutal. The wind is whipping, and his scarf and hat aren't doing much to keep the cold out. His nose is running like a faucet and the cough he developed over the course of the day drags the cold air even further into his lungs. The coughs hurt, like they come from somewhere deep in his chest, and by the time he gets home his throat is destroyed.

When he gets home, he's glad to see Sam isn't making a racket for once. Still, he knows he's in for a restless night anyway. He puts a can of soup on the stove to heat up while he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie. His reflection in the mirror is definitely a sight - he's flushed from the cold, his hair a mess, and his eyes red rimmed.

He knows he should really fit in some more studying before he calls it a night, but after he picks at his soup and does the dishes, he's ready to fall over, so he just curls up in bed, coughing and shivery, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up a few times in the night coughing, and the soreness in his throat makes his eyes water. He's barely able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. His shivers have become more like shakes, and his cough feels like it never stops. He got a decent amount of sleep, but he still feels totally exhausted - even his muscles are sore.

His classes are a blur - he's too preoccupied with feeling awful to focus, and by the time he's done at 6, all he wants to do is go home and sleep until tomorrow morning. But, he knows he has to get at least one assignment done. After tomorrow, he'll have the whole weekend to relax. Not totally, but still.

Just the assignment tonight, classes tomorrow, then he can finally get some rest. The library probably isn't a good choice - his cough is too distracting, and he knows the walk home later will be torture. So instead, he goes back to the apartment. The cold air always exacerbates the cough, so the whole way home he's hacking, his nose running like a faucet. His ribs have started to hurt from all the coughing.

He almost wants to cry when he gets home and hears the sound of Sam and his friends in the living room. Why tonight of all nights? He trudges into his bedroom and changes - he's started to feel warm, which is a relief after feeling so cold all the time, but now it's becoming a both too warm and too cold feeling, so he tugs on his sweater and a fresh pair of boxers.

He starts to work on the physics problem set - there are only three problems total, but each of them usually take an hour at least, and that's when he's not feeling like death. He works for a while, but it's only when he starts to feel lightheaded he realizes he hasn't eaten yet today.

So, he heads into the kitchen and rummages around for a can of chicken noodle. He finds it, but he's too weak and shaky to work the can open right. He tries for a good three minutes before he feels a lump form in his throat.

"Hey, do you want some help with that?" He turns to see Tom standing in the doorway. Self consciously, he sniffles and clears his throat.

"Uh, y-yeah, that would be great." Tom smiles softly and walks over, making quick work of the can. Henry expects him to just go back into the living room, but he grabs the pot from the cabinet and turns on the stove.

"You've got quite a cough there." Henry feels himself blush. They all must be able to hear him from his room.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, no, no don’t be sorry. We make enough noise, you’re allowed to be sick.” He pours the soup into the pot and starts to grab spices from the shelf.

“I’m not sick.” Henry isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but Tom doesn’t challenge him, just smirks.

“Well whatever it is, it sounds brutal.” He shakes a few of the spices into the soup, stirring slowly.

“I’m ok. Really.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence before someone calls Tom from the other room. He looks a little dismayed, but puts on a smile.

“Feel better, ok?” He rests his arm on Henry’s upper arm, giving him a soft smile, before heading back into the living room. And there’s that fluttering in his chest again.

On his way back to his room, he catches a bit of a conversation.

“I think we should go out.” That’s Tom’s voice.

“Nah dude, it’s freezing.” That’s Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Henry smiles to himself. Maybe it’s reaching to think Tom did that specifically for him, but part of him really hopes he did.

The rest of the night is blissfully quiet, apart from his incessant cough. By the time he’s finished with the last problem, it’s midnight, and the world is swimming. He’s never been happier to lie down. But, it’s short lived. Despite being exhausted, his cough and what he suspects is a fever are making it all but impossible to sleep. He drifts in and out of half-sleep, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold. Luckily his class isn’t until the afternoon, but he spends the whole morning much like the night before. When he finally gets up, he feels truly ready to fall over. His headache is horrendous, throbbing and pounding at the slightest provocation. His sinuses are still swollen, along with his poor throat that makes him wince with every swallow. The cough is the same if not a little worse, except now it sends cramping pain through his ribs.

On the walk to class, he just keeps repeating the same idea in his head. Just three hours, then you can rest. The class is truly a blur, but the walk home is too unpleasant to tune out. Once again, the freezing temperature isn’t any help, and forcing his aching body to walk through the snow gets harder with every step.

He turns the corner for the front door of his building, and a wave of relief washes over him. But, he’s confused when he sees someone standing near the buzzer. He’s even more confused when he realizes it’s Tom.

“Hey, uh, Sam isn’t here. He’s gone for the weekend.” He says, embarrassed at how thready and weak his voice sounds. Tom turns, looking confused.

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing.” He says, and Henry isn’t sure whether it’s the fever that’s keeping him from putting the dots together or this just doesn’t make sense.

“Sam isn’t upstairs,” he repeats, and Tom sighs gently.

“I’m not here to see Sam.” It still isn’t clicking. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Ok…” He unlocks the door and clumsily shakes the snow off his boots before getting into the elevator. Tom follows, and Henry figures someone else must be in the building that Tom wants to see, but Tom follows him right to the door. Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. “Tom, what do you want?”

For the first time, it looks like Tom might actually be nervous.

“I came to check up on you.” Henry suddenly feels a strange bundle of emotions unfurl in his stomach.

“Oh,” is all he can manage to get out. Tom bites his lip.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine, uh…” He takes a deep breath, but breaks into a fit of coughs before he can speak. He feels a steady hand on his back. After he’s done with the fit the world swims, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go inside so you can sit down, ok?” Henry just nods, and after a few moments of struggling to fit the key into the lock, Tom does it for him. Immediately, he strips off his scarf and coat and practically collapses onto the couch, pulling off his boots. He leans back into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“Fuck…” he breathes, and he hears Tom laugh quietly. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tom sitting in front of him on the coffee table, still looking nervous. “Why would you wanna check on me?”

“Well you didn’t seem so good last night, and I wanted to make sure you were ok. Even though you hate my guts,” he says with a smile. He starts to rummage through his backpack, and pulls out a bottle of tylenol and a thermometer, as well as a quart container of soup.

“I don’t hate your guts,” Henry says quietly, and Tom gives him another smile.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He leans forward and starts to move his palm toward his forehead, but hesitates. “Is this ok?” Henry nods, and sighs when he feels the cool palm on his overheated skin. He moves his hand to his cheek. “Jesus, you’re really burning up.”

He lets out another volley of coughs, and Tom rubs his back again. It feels nice, but it doesn’t make the confusion go away. For now though, he’s happy to just be looked after.

“Here.” Tom slips the thermometer under his tongue, brushing some of his hair away from his face. When it beeps, he takes it out. “102. Not so bad.” Henry has a feeling he’s saying that more for his benefit than his own. “You want me to grab you some more comfortable clothes?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles in return. “Alright.”

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, leaving Henry alone on the couch, finally giving him a moment to process all of this. Why on earth would Tom care about him? They’re not really friends, are they? And Tom was straight, wasn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d actually like Henry of all people. And did Henry even like him? Sure, he’s sweet and funny and impossibly hot, but he’s friends with Sam. And he’s on the soccer team. And he’s so outgoing and friendly all the time, wouldn’t that get annoying?

He almost doesn’t notice when Tom gets back.

“Here you go. You want me to go in the kitchen while you change?” He hands him the clothes, and Henry bites his lip.

“If you want to.” Is that a weird answer? Tom smirks.

“I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Henry starts to take off his shirt, but he’s so shaky and uncoordinated, Tom has to help him, which probably killed any romance the situation offered, he thinks. The clean fabric feels nice against his feverish skin. The pants go the same way, and he didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was until now.

“Here, lean your head back,” Tom says, and he does. Tom presses a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and he sighs softly. “That feels good?” He nods. There’s a few moments of silence while he just relaxes into the feeling. Then, he sits up straight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom looks nervous again.

“You’re my...friend. And I care about you,” he says, and Henry feels his heart sink a little.

“Oh. Ok.” He must sound disappointed, because Tom smiles.

“Hoping for a different answer?” Henry shrugs, and Tom rubs his jaw.

“I mean, it’s a little embarrassing but I used to...have a crush on you. But I think you made it kind of clear you weren’t interested.” Henry can’t hide his confusion.

“I made it clear?” He’s genuinely not sure what Tom is talking about. Sure, he’s never out right flirted with him, but he always thought he was straight anyway.

“Just...one word answers to everything, always seeming like you had somewhere else to be - it’s fine. I don’t know why I even brought it up. You want some soup?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles. “Ok, sounds good.”

He heads into the kitchen, and Henry’s mind runs a mile a minute. There’s no way he’s telling the truth right? But why would he lie? He comes back through the doorway and leans against the frame.

“It’s on the stove, just have to wait a few minutes. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, uh...I wanna tell you something.” Henry doesn’t know how he can make leaning against a doorframe look so good.

“Shoot.”

“I kinda had a crush on you too. Or...have.” He can feel himself blushing. Tom laughs.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” He’s beaming, and it makes Henry smile too.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so annoying,” he says, and Tom walks back over to the coffee table and sits down. Tom’s hand rests on his forehead, then makes its way down to his cheek. It feels so steady. Stable.

“I’m not the one that got themself sick with pneumonia because I wouldn’t miss a class, am I?” Without thinking, Henry wraps his arms around him as tight as he can - which isn’t very tight, but still. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. Tom rubs his back gently.

“Thank you, for doing all this,” he whispers, and Tom squeezes him a little bit tighter.

“Anytime.”

#my writing #oc henry #oc tom #two more boys pining for each while one has a cold what's new?

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 4 years ago

Text

if this was a dream pt. 2

Part 1 | AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist

Thomas tried to steady himself as Alastair walked - no, more like ran - away. What was he doing here, by his bedside? In what universe would his parents allow Alastair Carstairs to sit with him while they slept? He seemed to recall many nights in his youth when his mother refused to sleep at all when he was unwell.

His mind ran through countless possibilities, each one less likely than the last, until his parents rushed into his room. He pushed those thoughts aside as mother ran to him, cupping his face in her hands and gently kissing his forehead. “We were so worried. How are you feeling?”

Besides blinding rage? He took a moment to actually consider the question. He’d been too distracted by the Alastair fiasco to take notice of it all. Alastair said that he had been injured. “Er, my head hurts, but other than that, I feel alright.”

She smiled. “That’s good. You were attacked on patrol about three days ago, and your injuries were quite severe. There’s a Silent Brother lingering around here somewhere, we should fetch him to check on you. I’m so glad you’re feeling alright, love.”

“Alright is one word for not being able to remember the past six months,” Eugenia commented, appearing in the doorway.

Both of his parents looked alarmed. “What do you mean?” his father asked.

“That’s what-” She cut herself off abruptly. “Thomas, what month is it?”

“Um…” He thought for a moment. Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a bit blurry. Was the engagement party last week? Two weeks ago, perhaps? “It’s August.”

His mother looked at him worriedly.

“What?”

“It’s February,” Eugenia answered. She was always the most blunt out of all of them.

Thomas wasn’t sure how to respond, but his mother quickly reassured, “That’s alright, dear. I’ll go find the Silent Brother now. I’m sure this will pass as your head heals.”

She left the room and Eugenia came to the chair that Alastair had been sitting in earlier. She sighed. “I know you’re mad at him.” It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Alastair. “You should be, but also… try to keep in mind that a lot has happened over the past six months.”

He could feel the anger rising in his bloodstream again, but there was only so much he was willing to say with his father present. “Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that…” He trailed off. What was being implied here? He had no idea what was happening at all.

“Believe what you must, then,” Eugenia exhaled.

“Well, what did happen in the last six months?”

Eugenia thought for a moment. “Hm, let’s see… Well, Rosamund and Thoby got engaged. Cordelia and James got married, kind of. Matthew got a flat! And a car. And he’s trying to quit drinking now, though that’s a bit new, maybe don’t bring it up. Let’s see… There was the whole serial killer bit, we fought a couple of Princes of Hell, Lilith showed up, Lucie raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead… Oh, I’m sure I’m missing some things. Your friends can explain it better.”

Thomas could only stare in response.

“See? Is your relationship with Alastair Carstairs truly the most shocking thing to have happened in the past six months?”

Thomas’ head had ached before, but now he could feel it pounding, trying to process all that his sister had just rattled off. “I- What-” He flashed his gaze towards his father, who seemed a bit concerned, but not the least bit surprised or upset. “My- I don’t-”

“I can see now that I’ve said far too much. You know what? It’s fine. Most of that doesn’t even matter anyways. The parts that do, well, you’ll figure them out. Besides, your memories may come back soon enough anyways. And it’s all truly not as dramatic as it sounds listed out like that.”

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to shove all of those thoughts, his sister’s words, the many questions needing answers, into some corner of his brain to be picked up later. “Perhaps we can just… avoid that as a topic of conversation.”

“Of course,” his sister said quickly. “By ‘that’ you mean-”

Gideon cut her off by clearing his throat. “Genie, would you please find Bridget and request some food be brought up for your brother, now that he’s awake.”

She shot out of her seat with nervous energy. “Of course. I’ll be back.”

Once she was out the door, he chuckled gently. “I have no idea how she still has that much energy after staying awake for nearly three straight days.”

Thomas bit at the inside of his lip. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

Gideon nodded solemnly. “You’re alright now, though, and you’re awake. That’s what is important.” He paused. “I know this has all been a lot to take in, but you needn’t worry about any of it, truly. All that matters to any of us right now is that you heal. You should try to rest, if only because Eugenia is less likely to harass you if it looks like you’re sleeping.”

He gave him a small smile and tried to relax. He attempted, unsuccessfully, to quiet the noise in his brain. Alastair, sitting by his bedside. The look on Alastair’s face as he fled the room. How his entire family had seemingly accepted Alastair as part of his life, as his… partner? Had Alastair sat with them these three long days, hoping, praying, that he would wake?

It didn’t make sense. Alastair had spread cruel rumors, terrible lies, about Thomas’ family. Rumors that had made his mother weep. He’d hurt Matthew so badly that the scars showed even now, four years later. He’d had a crush on Alastair in school, of course. Just a silly schoolboy crush, running after the witty and mysterious older boy with cutting words and sad eyes. Thomas had thought, for a moment, that he was falling in love with him, back in Paris. He kicked himself at the thought of it now. He’d been terribly lonely and feeling alienated, of course he would fall at the feet of the first person he connected with.

He felt it again, though, when Alastair arrived in London, in those stolen conversations at parties or in the laboratory. He knew now that the Alastair he’d shown to Thomas was not true. It was a facade he put on to please him, a trick. That Alastair would never be able to say such terrible things about his loved ones, even as some strange, sick act. This must be another trick, Thomas thought, one that he’d seemingly convinced not only Thomas of but everyone else, too.

Thomas silently scolded himself. There were much bigger issues to worry about than Alastair Carstairs’ games, such as the fact that he’d nearly died a few days prior or that Lucie had apparently raised Jesse Blackthorn from the dead. Those were the types of things that he should be worried about, or even the fact that this meant that it had been over half a year without his sister, or that he’d turned 19 last month and could not remember. And yet, his mind lingered.

His mother returned soon after with Brother Shadrach. Thomas allowed himself a moment of silent relief that it was not Brother Zachariah. He had no issue with Jem, but he suspected that his presence would make it a bit difficult to keep his mind off of a different Carstairs.

Brother Shadrach did a short physical evaluation. Thomas still had several wounds that had not finished healing, but they were reportedly improving nicely. His head injury was a different story.

With these types of injuries, recent memories are typically more affected than older ones. Only time will tell whether the amnesia is temporary or not. It is likely that even if you begin to regain your older memories, some of your most recent memories will never return, even if that is merely the days or weeks leading up to the attack.

Sophie thanked him for all of his help, and he left them with orders that Thomas be allowed light physical activity as he finished healing, though he should avoid anything that may make his headache worsen, such as reading. Or Alastair Carstairs, Thomas had wanted to add, though he did not.

Over the next several hours, his family tapered off in shifts, finally allowing themselves much-needed rest and meals now that they were certain that Thomas was alright.

It was Eugenia’s shift when he woke from a nap with too much restless energy to lie in bed any longer. “I’m going to walk around a bit,” he announced.

She sat up, closing the book she was reading. “I’ll come with you, then.”

“That’s alright, you don’t need to. Brother Shadrach said I’m allowed to walk around. I’m meant to avoid headaches, though, and I’d rather not have you talking my ears off.”

Genie’s face fell. “Oh.”

“I didn’t- That came out wrong. I only meant that I’d like some time alone.”

“I know what you meant.” She looked back down at the book in her lap. “Go. You have until I finish this chapter, and then I’m coming to find you.”

His wandering eventually led him to the library, though he was not meant to do any actual reading. In the library, however, was a man.

“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked.

Alastair looked up from the book he was holding. “I- Thomas! I didn’t realize that you were walking around.”

“Yes, according to Brother Shadrach, my head injury has not affected my ability to walk.”

“Right-”

“You still haven’t answered my question. Go home, Carstairs. How many times do I need to tell it to you? Do you need it in a different language?” He was about to tell Alastair to leave in Farsi when he was cut off.

“No, I’ll go.” He shut his book and stood up. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to bother you again, I simply-”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing or how you’ve managed to convince my whole family of it, too, but it won’t work anymore.”

“Thomas, there’s no-”

“Cease constantly addressing me by my first name. We’re not schoolboys any longer. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

Alastair couldn’t seem to find the words to respond, though his expression was as unreadable as ever.

Thomas could feel tears burning in his eyes. “I thought that you were different, but I was wrong. I will not allow myself to fall for your lies again.”

“Very well, Mr. Lightwood. I will take my leave. I did not wish to upset you.” His face was still blank.

“Really? Because you don’t seem to care all that much. We’re meant to be in a relationship, or something, according to my sister, but it doesn’t even seem like you care that I hate you.”

There, just for a moment, was a flicker across Alastair’s face, though Thomas couldn’t quite catch what it was. He thought for a moment before finally responding. “You’re allowed to hate me, T- Perhaps you should. It matters not to me because as long as you hate me, you are awake and you are alive, and that is an easier reality to contend with than one where you are… not alive. I hope you feel better, Mr. Lightwood.”

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but was too flustered to find the words. He stared as he watched Alastair walk out of the library. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he would look back at him, but he simply kept walking, turning the corner towards the front entrance of the Institute.

Thanks for all of your support! taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @lifewouldbebetteronmars @delusioneon @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood

Part 3

#coi spoilers #chain of iron spoilers #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #thomastair #chain of iron #coi #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #fanfic #if this was a dream fic

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anbudrky2021 · 3 years ago

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The 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 Sound of 𝒯𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 │ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕆𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟

Smut warning. Please click here for series description and TWs. 💕

Ch 4: Projecting

“Thor?” I was confused why he is was there.

“Who made you cry, y/n??” He asked again.

“Nobody,” I lied.

“You can’t tell me a lie without me noticing.” Thor stood, patiently waiting. “Was it Buck?” he had a look of concern, but not anger or malice toward Bucky, which surprised me. When I had come back from Wakanda and told him what had happened, he was so angry. I had never seen Thor so...enraged. So to see him calm was...weird.

“Just leave it alone. Please.” I softly spoke, hoping he would listen.

“I will leave it alone. You are not my responsibility. But please...” he looked genuinely into my eyes, “please let me know if I need to squash him.” He smirked for a moment.

“What are you doing here?” My last tear had dried up and I was now breathing like normal.

“Tony sent me. And Peter.” His eyes rolled slightly. “As much as this...man of spiders bothers me...he does care for you. And I can respect that. Also Tony wanted me to do some recon.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

”Recon? On what?” I whispered now, urging him to do the same. “Not King T’Ch-” he cut me off with a hearty laugh.

“No!!” He boomed. “Not T’Challa. He’s great. Tony trust that Black Leopard. Cheetah. No, that’s not it...Cougar. Capybara.” He looked up at the ceiling quizzically.

“Wow, Thor that’s not even a cat...” I laughed out loud. “Panther, hon. It’s black panther. And if you aren’t...spying on him who-”

“That’s why I was actually hoping on running into you...it’s Bucky. Tony wants to make sure he’s ready to come to the-”

“No. He’s not. He’s not coming back with us. He’s not ready. There. Now go home and tell Tony I already did the recon.” I started walking past Thor but he grabbed my arm lightly.

“This is why he sent me..the four of you are biased. He’s Steve’s best friend. Wanda is your best friend. You...have a history. And Nat, well she’s great but we didn’t want to make her be a double-agent. Not again...” he sighed. “So here I am.”

“Tony didn’t think you’d be biased in my favor? Or against it?” I retorted.

“Nah. He knows I can separate a mission from a woman. I do still care for you, y/n.” He paused for a moment. “I really do...I know it’s hard for you to be here with him around. Don’t forget to ask for help when you need it. You’re almost as stubborn as an asguardian woman and that is a feat.”

We both laughed. He’d told me that many times. He always said that was one of the reasons he liked me so much. I had reminded him of the head-strong women from his Home, in which he respected and loved so much.

We parted ways after saying goodbye. I was confused now. Thor made me feel so comfortable. So cared for. But so did Peter. I had destroyed my chances with Thor..but not Peter. Not yet. But being here with Bucky made my heart wrench out of my chest. I felt dirty. Like I had been a cleat chaser for a baseball team or something. Which is fine. I have done my share of sleeping around. But this group...this team I am a part of...it feels wrong sometimes. Nat hasn’t slept with any of them. Wanda only has eyes for Vis. Hope and Scott are basically married. I mean...I just...

“You’re projecting!!” Thor yelled from down the hallway.

“Jesus...” I whispered, now jogging away. How much had I projected?! And to whom?!

My mind started to dizzy. My fingers and toes felt like they were buzzing. My heart raced and my breathing was completely irregular. I propped myself up against the wall and slid down slowly. I took deep breaths, tried to think of something to distract me but my head was spinning.

“Y/n?” Nat’s voice was like music. She helped me up and walked me to my room. By the time we got there, I felt like I could at least stand. “Nat I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She looked around the room. “What happened here?” She asked, pointing at the broken vase I had thrown at Bucky earlier. I didn’t even know what it was until now. Guilt sprang through me. T’Challa was so kind to let us stay here. And I broke his vase.

“Hey, you know you’re projecting right?” She asked, looking alarmed.

“Oh...no. I didn’t know that. That just happened with Thor, too...”

“Thor is here?” Now she was more alarmed.

“I Guess he hasn’t made that known yet...” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I think we need to see Shuri sooner than later, friend..” Nat motioned toward the door. I followed obediently. I was scared to think anything now. Not that I didn’t trust Natasha, but I didn’t know when or why I was projecting...

We reached the familiar medical and science bay, knocking quickly on the door. “Shuri!!!” Nat yelled through the door. “Hey we’re coming in!”

Natasha opened the door and saw Shuri speaking with T’Challa.

“My friends, welcome,” He gestured toward a seating area.

“This is my laboratory. I get to say welcome!!” Shuri almost whined. They both laughed. Their relationship is so sweet. It makes me want a brother. I would kind of have some if I would just keep it in my pants. I rolled my eyes at myself and then realized everyone was staring at me.

“Hey” Shuri said, chipper, trying to lighten the mood as always, “my bro can be yours, too! He’s taken. So he won‘t be trying any of that pants stuff!” She laughed. Everyone else looked horrified by the whole situation.

“So I assume I projected that thought as well, then...” I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. How about now? Can someone let me know if you’re hearing this? I thought, trying to purposefully project.

Nobody spoke. I sighed.

“So when I try to project, it hasn’t been working and apparently now when I am not, I’m just doing it?” I asked, and stated. I didn’t know.

Shuri nodded. “Did you just try?”

“Yes...”

“Then yeah...that’s what happening. But why?” She asked herself. She waved me and Nat over to follow her. “See you later, brother.” She kissed his cheek and he left.

“How long have I been doing this?” I asked, somewhat to myself but also to Natasha.

“Well, to be honest, on and off for a while. We just all thought you were...” she bit her lip. “remember when you were drunk and-”

“Yes, what about it?” I was exhausted now.

“We thought maybe you had a drinking problem you were hiding...after you and Thor ended things. And that’s why you were randomly projecting. But then Peter said during a meeting-”

“What meeting?” I asked, kind of hurt.

“We had a meeting...a few weeks after you and Pete started...anyway, um. In the meeting, nobody knew at that time that you had been seeing Peter. But he spoke up for you. He said you’d been spending time together-he said it was because he noticed you were sad-and that you hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. So then we all decided that something was up. We stopped sending you on bigger missions...” her tears pricked. “That’s when Steve talked to Bucky and Bucky talked to Shuri. And now we’re here...”

Tears escaped her eyes. Why is she crying? Nat doesn’t cry...

“Because Natasha cares about you. We all do, Y/N. And this isn’t normal for someone with you powers.” Shuri answered my projection.

I took a deep breath. “Ok, so now what?” I asked, concerned.

“Testing. Experimental activities. Anything to figure out what’s going on.” She patted the lab bed and Handed me some electromagnetic stickers with wires attached. “Head and heart please.” She motioned for me to take off my shirt.

I did as I was asked. My scars showed. The one thing I hated most about what happened. The scars. Shuri looked for a moment and then away from me, she shot me a nervous smile.

Nat rubbed my back as I sat, applying the stickers.

I feel like a child. And an alien. I hate this.

“This won’t take too long, y/n” Shuri reassured me. “I promise. And then you can sleep.”

“You’re not an alien. Or a child. We just want you better.” Natasha said softly. She’d be such a good mom; she’s so gentle and kind when she’s not kicking ass.

Both Natasha and Shuri laughed. “Very true. Nat is pretty awesome.” She winked at Nat. Nat’s smile faded and she sat in the chair Beside my bed.

Shit. I forgot. I’m sorry, Nat... I tried to project but it didn’t work.

When Shuri left for a moment I turned to Natasha. “I’m sorry, I forgot...and it was meant to be my own thought...” I looked at Nat with a pained look in my own eyes.

“It’s ok. I took it as a complement.” She smiled genuinely. “Plus, I feel like a mom 99% of the time with you all.” We laughed and then sat in silence.

After Shuri’s tests were done, Nat escorted me back to my room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” She insisted.

“No, I am ok. Just tired. Plus I don’t know if I will project my dreams and they can be pretty crazy..” I raised my eyebrows.

“Uh, I don’t know if you mean nightmares or sex dreams but I do NOT want to see you having sex with Peter. Or Thor. Or Bucky. Or-”

“I GET IT!” I tossed a small pillow at her and she laughed.

“Alright, get some sleep. I will see in the morning. I will meet you and Wanda at breakfast. Steve is going to spend some time with Bucky.”

I nodded and got undressed when she left the room. I laid out my pajamas and went to the bathroom to shower off and get ready for bed. As I walked out in my towel, Thor was sitting on the same chair Bucky had been in earlier.

“Can I help you” I acted like I wasn’t phased.

“Yeah I have a question.” Thor said, standing up, walking toward me.

What the fuck. “Ok?” I asked.

“What’s a cleat chaser?”

I just stood, hair dripping, confused as ever.

“When you projected in the hallway. You compared yourself to a cleat chaser. What is that?” He asked again.

“Oh, it’s like...people who sleep with baseball players. Like, typically a lot on one team, I guess.” Really, he’s going to come here and ask that?

“That isn’t the only reason I came.” He responded, lightly.

“Y/N...you didn’t ‘destroy’ your chance with me.” He acknowledged my projection from earlier, again. “I just want you to be happy. You can’t be happy with anyone until you get better. And I’m not talking about your powers. I’m talking about your heart. Your soul. Your emotions.” he spoke with such power and authenticity. “You think I ended things because I thought you were selfish. And I did say that. I said you were selfish and cruel. I have pondered on this for months.”

I listened. Trying to to think.

“I am Thor. I am the literal god of thunder. Son of Odin. And I am the selfish one. I did not bother to see how you’re cruelty toward me, or what I saw as cruelty was hurt. It was pain and suffering. It still is. And when I restated what you’d said to me, the night we first hooked up. You’d said it was to numb the pain. And as we progressed in our...relationship or whatever you want to call it. I couldn’t let it go. I was angry. And I brought it back up, after we went to your mother’s house; Odin bless her soul...I brought it up and spat it back out to you. That I was sleeping around to numb my own pain.”

He was very close to me now. I could feel the heat from his large body vibrating onto mine. His voice was soft but somehow still booming. I gripped my towel and swallowed the knot in my throat.

“I was in pain...I’m still in pain. And I understand now. You weren’t being selfish or cruel. You were feeling guilty, hurt, grieving, angry, sad, and alone. And instead of letting you feel those ways, I took them as you not wanting me. Not caring. Not putting me first.”

Thor was still talking but all I wanted to do was hug him.

“I thought I was supposed to be your priority. And I did up until last night..” He laid his hand gently on my cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. “Y/N. I know now, your priority cannot be someone else when you’re hurting. I know that because no matter how many women I lay with, no matter how many ales I drink, my mind goes back to you. I can’t make anyone else my priority when my pain, it‘s you. I love you.”

I burst into tears and just fell into his arms. He patted my head and then held me close to him. I sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours but he just held me.

“Thor..” I sniffled. “Thor, I can’t express how much that means to me. All I wanted from you was that. To understand I don’t have the capacity to love someone right now. I don’t, even after two years, have the willpower to prioritize someone else. When I do... they hurt me or they fucking DIE.” I sobbed again. This time, doubled over. My knees hit the floor. Thor got on the floor with me for a moment and picked me up. He brought me to the bed and laid me down gently, under the covers.

“Thor, my pajamas...” I cried, holding my towel against me.

“One second...” he grabbed them and helped me put them on. I tried to cover up but it didn’t work.

“Oh stop. I‘ve seen it all before.” He smiled, looking away respectfully. “Yeah, not lately though.” I finished putting them on.

“True...” he smirked. We looked at one another for a moment. I broke the silence. “Thor, will you stay?”

He looked at me solemnly for just a second. “You know I can’t do that...” he tucked me in.

“But-”

“Y/N. I can’t do that,” he insisted.

“Why?” I nearly pouted.

“Because any time I am in the same bed as you.” he trailed off. “And I respect Peter now.”

I blushed. I forgot about Peter. Maybe I am just as cruel as Thor thought I was before. Maybe he’s wrong. I’m not hurting. I’m just mean.

“You’re not mean, Y/N.” He soothed. “You’re lost.”

He was right...but all I wanted was his mouth on mine. My mind went to the day we decided to walk to the creek near the compound.

We had made it to the creek, just in time for Thor to roughly push me up against a tree. I had worn a sundress in hopes he would take advantage of it. His hands roughly ripped down the straps, releasing my chest from its confines. His right hand massaged one as his his mouth attached to the other. My hands immediately latched to his hair, pulling lightly. I could hear his soft moans from the sensation. The vibration against my nipple made me moan myself. My head rested against the tree for a moment before he popped up and reached his hands up my dress.

He yanked my panties down and I stepped out of them. He picked them up and pocketed them.

I pulled his pants down about to his knees and then his boxer-briefs. His cock was at full attention and ready for me. Although my pussy was literally throbbing for him in that moment, my mouth was also drooling.

I pumped his shaft with my hand for a moment before taking him in my mouth. He had one hand on the tree, bracing himself, and one on the back of my head. He was encouraging me to let him go deeper. I allowed it, prompting a gag from myself. He moaned and thrusted again. As he started to take control, fucking my mouth, my hands busied themselves with his balls and one on his thigh to steady my own self.

“Just like that...you’re doing such a good job. Fuck your mouth is amazing.” His thrusts became unrhythmic. I knew that meant he was close to cumming so I shoved him out of my mouth.

“Hey!” He said.

I turned to face the tree, stood on my tippy toes and lifted up my sundress for him to see how much sucking his cock turned me on.

“Oh, damn...“ he groaned, lowly. I felt his tip against my slit, gathering the glistening slickness, preparing to enter me. I used my hands to prop myself against the tree. He entered me slowly, both of us sighing in pleasure.

He started thrusting immediately, not really giving me time to adjust. Although it was painful for a moment, my body gave way and I let out a loud, shaking moan. “Do you like that?” he cooed in my ear softly. “Be quiet or we’re going to be caught...” he thrusted harder, eliciting a louder moan from me.

He reached down for A moment and before I could figure out what he was doing, he shoved my panties in my mouth.

“Shut it,” he warned. His hands now gripped my hips and he railed into my cunt over and over again. My stomach tightened and my moans were snuffed out by my panties. My eyes started to roll backwards as he reached around, stroking my clit just how I liked.

“I am going to cum,” he warned me. As he spoke, his voice was like grit and it was low.

I came, my cunt spasming around him. He came quickly after that, filling me up, leaking down my thigh. He pulled out of me, and spun me around to kiss my lips. I had already pulled the panties out of my mouth. We shared a moment of making out and then he readjusted my straps. He pulled his pants up and used my panties to clean up my thighs and cunt, placing them back into his pocket.

“I still have those panties,” Thor said, interrupting my thoughts. “They’re washed. But I still have them...” his voice was low, just like it gets when he’s horny. I could see his pants were tighter. We locked eyes for a moment and then he turned around. And he left.

#Thor #Peter Parker #Bucky Barnes #Smut #Smut Warning #Thor Smut #Marvel Smut #Avengers Smut #Angst #Fluff #canon divergent au #Present day AU #Lemon

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thebrochtuarachs · 4 years ago

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Arranged: Chapter 6

Modern AU. Set in present time. Where Claire and Jamie are arranged to be married.

CH: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

AO3

A/N: Hello, everyone! I'd like to start with an apology for not updating for so so long. This story is still very dear to me, I daydream a lot of the next chapters, it's in my head and in my drafts and I just didn't realize that has been quite a while since I posted a chapter. Time flew by so quickly in the pandemic, I hadn't seen it pass. Anyway, posting this short and sweet update. Hope you like it! As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome :) Hope that you are keeping safe and healthy! Till the next!

XXXXX

The Ring of the Woman of Balnain – or that’s what they call the ring for generations since the 18th century.

For Jamie, it was simply his 8-times great-grandmother’s ring – a small circlet passed down his family for generations. His siblings never cared for the old thing but Jamie loved it ever since he was a wee lad and asked his parents to give it to him when he was old enough – and that time was, apparently, now.

After his mother ambushed him in the kitchen, Jamie was now in possession of one the most precious things in his life. He promised himself that he would give it to the woman he’ll marry someday as a gift and sign of his love and he hoped that the ring would bring luck in their relationship.

When he realized that Claire Beauchamp was the one, he thought about asking for the ring but then he found out about Frank Randall and had to re-evaluate his chances and options. All of his plans for him and Claire got put on hold until their parents intervened with this crazy scheme. But this crazy scheme, allow him to at least, put some plans in place.

A week later, his mother found the ring box on his bed side table, untouched and unopened.

“Give it to her. I want you to give it to Claire. It’s perfect” she heard Ellen say to Jamie who just groaned in disapproval.

“Mam, I thought we were going to do this in our own time, our own terms. Giving her this does not make all of this any easier.” Jamie replied.

“I know, son. But this has a special meaning to our family, ye ken that. Even if this arrangement is so, I would – no, we would, yer father and I – would love it if ye kept with the tradition.”

Then came one of Jamie’s exasperated sighs. “I’m no promising anything, Mam. I’ll think about it but don’t expect anything”

He and Claire hadn’t really discussed the nature of their relationship one month in since getting reacquainted. But the truth was, with all the time they’ve been spending together ( almost everyday ), they’ve gotten really close that even the people close to them have started noticing up to a point where they asked if there was something going on between them.

Of course, they denied it – not wanting anyone to know about what really was going on – saying they were just friends and reasoned the mere fact that their families were close and that was the way it’s always been for them. A damn, unreliable lie but it’s all they got.

Their research was not progressing in any form which was starting to frustrate Claire. Everything they were getting from “company sources'' just didn’t make sense in any scenario or plan. Money was not an issue, their family relations were not an issue, their business relations were not an issue… they were running out of “reasons” and “clues” but Claire refused to give up. Of course, Jamie knew otherwise but silently played along.

Thankfully, their final exams were coming and Jamie decided to put pause on everything and have a break from their research and each other - their schedule not permitting any free time. They haven’t seen each other in a week.

Today, Jamie had been in the coffee shop for hours since almost all of his classes got cancelled when his building suddenly needed to be fumigated.

“This seat taken?” the voice was unfamiliar and Jamie looked up to find Laoghaire Mackenzie looming over his table. He knew about her and her fondness of him, she was never to shy to show it anyway, but he’d never taken a liking to the lass. She wasn’t his type and he didn’t like her personality at all. Despite numerous turndowns, she was still persistent.

Sensing his refusal, she made another attempt. “The table sits four and yer the only one.” She moved the chair in front of him causing the bag to fall over and all of its contents sprawled over the floor.

“I’m sorry. Here” she said, giving some of his things as he stood to pick it up. “Well?” she asked again, waiting for his invitation. Jamie was a gentleman and seems there was no reason to give the lass a boot or the seat. He was about to reluctantly agree when another voice chimed in.

“Actually, the seat is taken.” Claire’s voice was a happy sound in Jamie’s ear. Laoghaire turned to see whose voice was cockblocking her to Jamie and frowned. Laoghaire and Claire have never had a conversation before past pleasantries and despite that, they seem to have grown a dislike to each other, an unspoken disapproval of each person’s position in Jamie’s life. Too bad for Laoghaire, Claire knew she had the upper advantage and would gladly take that road anytime around her.

Claire wore her smug face proudly as Laoghaire huffed and shoved her way past her. Jamie, to his credit, didn’t say anything but rather he smiled at her in such a way that made Claire’s heart sing and she knew it came from a place of utmost gratitude.

Claire took her seat and Jamie started fixing his bag. Upon inspection, he realized he was missing something. Alarmed, Jamie quickly put out its contents again but still, it was not there.

He stood up and looked around the floor, pacing himself around the perimeter of his area. At one point, he even kneeled and bowed down just to look under chairs.

It was still not there.

Jamie stood up, flushed and a paleness was creeping in his face. He has lost it. How could he have lost it? Did Laoghaire take it with her? How would he tell his Mam that he lost a 300-year old family ring? Questions were pouring out his mind and he felt utter despair in the situation.

He wasn’t even supposed to bring it. It was a last minute decision to have it checked and cleaned.

“Looking for this?” Claire lifted the black leather box.

Jamie turned his head so fast, Claire thought he’d trip with his own momentum. But seeing the relief on his face warmed her heart.

“Thank ye!” he sat and moved to get the box but Claire pulled it away. “What’re..?”

“What is this?” she asked genuinely. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Tis’ nothing, Claire” he said, attempting to grab it from her again but was unsuccessful. She gave him a look and he resigned. “Yes. But there’s no need to think about it now, we have exams coming up.”

It wasn’t the same for Claire. The box did cross her mind from time to time since the dinner. But she, too, resigned and gave the box back to Jamie. “Fine, okay. Can I, at least, see it though?” she asked shyly.

“What?”

“Can I see it?”

Oh. Jamie was not expecting that. He didn’t think she’d be interested at all but here they are. He looked around, checking the place. The coffee shop was sparse and there’s no one close enough to pay them attention.

Jamie then focused on her, his eyes boring intently on hers, hoping to convey a certain reverence and seriousness on what he was about to show her. Slowly, he lifted the lid of the box revealing the simple silver ring within, his eyes observing her reaction.

Claire’s eyes focused on the ring as soon it was revealed. She honestly wasn’t expecting anything but if it was an engagement ring, at least, she thought, there’d be a diamond on it.

But this one was as simple a simple band can be and she was captivated by it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad ye think so. My brother and sister never cared for it…”

“But you do.” she finished and he nodded in agreement. “How old is it?”

“About three centuries old? It has been passed down in my family for generations” Jamie shared but not giving away any more details. That was for another story.

“Alright, I have to be honest” Claire began. “I heard your conversation with Aunt Ellen last dinner. I knew about the box. It was accidental, I promise! I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I’m sorry. This is what I was avoiding. We’re in a tough spot as it is and now this. I’m sorry, Claire. Don’t think about it. I’ll deal with my parents.” Jamie rambled on his apology and closed the box.

“No, no. It’s fine. I know what she meant and I know it’s ultimately up to us.” she moved her hand to comfort him and it landed parallel to where he clutched the box. Jamie startled with the proximity but she didn’t seem to notice and he didn’t move either. “Do you think it’ll buy us time if I wore this?”

“Ye want to wear it?!”

“Why not? If it’ll buy us time, why not? Plus, it looks nothing like an engagement ring. Nobody knows if I’m with someone. If anyone asks where I got it, I’d just say I got it from a vintage store or something old family heirloom.” she reasoned.

Jamie doesn’t look convinced still so Claire held his gaze having some unspoken conversation.

“Only if ye genuinely want to.” he countered.

“I want to”, Claire replied earnestly.

After a beat, Jamie lifted his hand and held it out to hers. “Give me yer hand.”

Claire smiled and handed her left hand to his. At that moment, they felt no awkwardness in their bubble. There was a trust, a knowing, a joy, and an excitement that neither thought of and realized until later. Jamie got the ring from the box and slid it on her ring finger.

A perfect fit.

Jamie wanted to kiss the back of her palm but resisted. Instead, he gave it a gentle squeeze and let it go.

Claire pulled back and proceeded to pull out her books and other stuff on the table and Jamie settled back to his. The rest of the afternoon went by as they normally did until it was time to head home.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #arranged #arranged au #mia writes #TB writes #Mia finally updates!#thank you readers!

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