#anyway! hope those pants were fire-proof

[jeeaark]

Reason #you-got-me why they never immediately use the rope on killer McGee after he voices concerns about his insatiable bloodlust.

While the team didn't take it too seriously, maybe Greygold thought rope would've been too easy to escape from for a sorcerer with fire cantrips..... APPARENTLY THEY ASSUMED INCORRECTLY.

[tangerinebathrobe]

I'm finally done holy shit. 2.6k words please enjoy

Here's your honorary proof:

anyyyyway soapshippers enjoy. win for the community I hope

A minute. A minute consists of sixty seconds. However you break that down – two lots of thirty seconds, four of fifteen, six of ten, sixty of one, every minute that passed was sixty seconds. In sixty seconds, Tyler could do a lot.

In sixty seconds, Tyler could do something like pour lye into his mixture for soap, or onto someone’s hand following a very personal kiss. He could hit somebody so hard their orbital shattered, or their eardrum burst. He could break somebody’s nose. He could give an order that set fire to a store, or he could drag somebody into the only disabled bathroom stall in a nearby truck stop and lock the door behind him, simultaneously emptying the contents of a small gym bag into the sink. He had found the place a few weeks ago, he said. He’d patched another guy up in here first, maybe himself, evident by the leftover bandages and blood.

In that disabled bathroom stall, with the door locked behind us, Tyler and I looked an unlikely duo. At thirty looking all of fifteen, still scrawny and unbalanced like a boy going through his parent’s break-up, I paled in comparison to him. He had a thin tan line going up over his hip, like a thong, and a body like something from a Calvin Klein ad beneath the loose shirt and khaki pants. It was an uncomfortable reminder of our first chance meeting, him perched in the hand of God as naked as a baby.

I sat on the provided stool and tried very carefully not to pull the daunting red cord hanging from the ceiling. 

“Take your shirt off,” Tyler commands.

Okay, I say. Tyler takes a tour of my visible injuries. His gaze lingers on the bone-deep scraze over my shoulder, and the two-finger width cut on my stomach from the concrete floor. In all reality, that would need stitches. Allowing Tyler and a needle anywhere near my abdomen seemed like a bad idea, and so I resigned it to being held together by two pieces of medical tape. 

His eyes trace the outline of the bruise map, and he chews over his lip, tonguing the split for all it was worth like a trashy hooker, or like Marla Singer–

Most days after Fight Club, work was bearable. Corporate decomposition in corporate wounds was sped up by corporate maggots that liked the sweet taste of your newly broken rib. 

After waking up and spending an hour looking at the flowering bruises spanning from your hips to your chest, you’d contemplate the migrated bone in your knuckle. 

Then, you’d put on your only clean shirt and a tie in a half-baked half-windsor knot, only as tight as your broken fingers could pull it. Maybe you’d even wear a belt, if those same fingers could handle fumbling with the clasp. 

Lastly, you’d slip your feet into shoes that folded at the back when you put them on, and you’d leave your briefcase at home because there were always pencils at the office, and the reports were always re-printable. They were only half-completed anyway.

However, most nights after Fight Club, you’d find yourself falling as hard as you could into bed with blood still dripping from your mouth. 

Choking down your teeth, you’d brew enough water for a packet of Cup-a-Soup and mix it together and drink it as fast as you could to get rid of the taste. Then you’d lay down in bed like a patient on a crash cart and imagine the wires strapped to your body to soothe your throbbing head into oblivion.

Either that, or you sucked it up and sat for a half hour idle outside the bathroom while the designated rookie-of-the-night dug pieces of broken nails and bits of bone out of wounds ready to be wiped with peroxide and sent to Examination Room 1.

If you needed the ER, you’d go alone. If you passed out on the street, too bad – you should have gone sooner. Of course, going two, three nights in a row negated whatever fixing could be done. 

Thus provides a causal explanation for why a white button-up was apparently the right choice to wear when Tyler and I went again tonight.

“–Cool, thanks.” Tyler says over his shoulder, watching me undress in the mirror while he himself contemplates the idea. The buttons are harder to convince the lower my fingers get, especially with the distraction of Tyler similarly slipping off his shirt. They seem as captivated as I am.

Once the battle is finally won (though, not the battle of ego, as that would have required all ten fingers in place and functioning, and Tyler not to have stripped right down to his birthday suit), Tyler corners me once again. 

“You’ve been bleeding through that shit all day, did you know that?” Tyler says matter-of-factly. “Yeah. I tossed you a clean one in the bag, and it's in the sink, but you need that fucking thing bandaged up, ‘kay?”

Yes, Tyler, I reply. “Cool,” he says. He grins, running his tongue across his teeth. “It does need to be cleaned first, though.” 

He lines up the items in the sink. A bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a small bottle of lye powder, a roll of bandages, a clean outfit, and a small box kit with medical thread and needles. They sit lined up like The Beatles.

So? Wait, Tyler. You’re not using hydrogen peroxide on it. 

Tyler stares at me expectantly. 

Absolutely not. I’m not letting you do that. 

“I think,” Tyler says patiently, “You need to consider the idea that getting better is going to hurt a little.”

Tyler, if you open that bottle of peroxide, I’m pulling this goddamn cord.

“By all means, go ahead. But you’ll have to walk to the ER alone once you finally decide it’s bad enough to warrant treatment, and God save you if you collapse on the way there. Then again, God doesn’t really like you. I do. I’ll do it right now. You won’t even feel it.”

Yes I fucking will! It’s hydrogen peroxide! 

“Okay, fine. Iodine then.” He says with a shrug. He rifles around in the sink, producing another small bottle. He approaches me like a rescue worker walks towards a stray cat. He gets on his knees in front of me, bottle of iodine and a piece of toilet paper in hand.

The iodine stings a little. Not as badly as hydrogen peroxide would’ve, but it still elicits a hiss every now and then. Tyler is digging his hand into the two-finger cut harder than necessary, but if I whine, he digs them in harder. “You good?” asks Tyler. Yes, I reply, strained. “Cool,” he says. “I’m almost done.” 

While he cleans each individual cut of the scraze, Tyler talks to me. I’m not even listening to half of it, just chiming in with the occasional

Yes, Tyler. Thanks, Tyler. Wow, Tyler. That’s So Great.

And it slowly sets in that I am so tired. Tyler also seems to realize this. He stands up to get the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I scramble to wrap my hands tightly around the cord, like a baby desperate for release from the womb.

Tyler, if you bring that bottle anywhere near my goddamn wounds, I will yank this cord down. I’m not messing with you.

“Oh, I know,” he says. “That’s why I cut it earlier.”

I look up. The cord indeed is no longer attached to its mysterious hole in the ceiling, instead tied to one of the railing supports. It slides down uselessly with a single yank. Tyler advances with the bottle. Tyler, I warn. Tyler!

“They need to be clean before I bandage them, do you understand?” Tyler says, far too easily grappling my hands and winding them up in the cut cord. A devilish grin spread over his face. I shake my head frantically. Tyler leans down over me with his newly retrieved bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “This is going to get all the dirt and shit out. All the nasty shit you don’t want in your body.”

Yeah, and all the healthy tissue too.

He uncaps the bottle and crouches as I lay helplessly, shirtless and bound with my arms above my head. “It’s going to sting a little, ‘kay? Cool.”

Tyler tips the bottle over the two-finger cut.

The feeling of the peroxide burns worse than lye. I know this, because I know that the chemical compounds are different.

H2O2. Two hydrogen atoms, two oxygen atoms – Hydrogen peroxide is incredibly dangerous to wounds. It doesn’t just eat the dead tissue and bacteria, but everything alive, too. That bubbling you see when somebody pours it over their scraped knee? It bubbles when it comes into contact with catalase, an enzyme that the body releases when tissue is damaged. Those little bubbles are oxygen escaping cells on their way to the heart.

NaOH. One sodium atom, one oxygen atom, one hydrogen atom – Lye is used in alkaline cleansers for very, very rich people to rub on their faces, fancy brands like Albolene and Roche-Posay. It’s supposed to be good for you, but in reality it eats your skin alive. It digs into every crevice of available dermal tissue. It eats through subcutaneously, and it really does open up your pores.

Every muscle in my stomach spasms and jolts. My mind is wandering to work.

My boss, Richard Chesler (Regional Manager, Compliance & Liability Division, 39210 North Pennfield Blvd, reachable at (288) 555-0138 or simply by walking into his office – because that office is open at any time, to any of his employees!) had once stapled his hand. They had solved this issue by dabbing a tissue dipped in hydrogen peroxide onto it, and he had been in so much pain he’d almost pissed himself.

I’m sure I have already pissed myself, as Tyler pours a significant helping of peroxide onto my shoulder. It dribbles down my chest in burning streams and catches every tiny wound it can find. I try not to think about how stupid I must look with my hands bound above my head and my pleasantly fitting work pants soaked through with piss. I try not to think of agony –

Ag · o · ny 

noun

agony (noun) · agonies (plural noun)

extreme physical or mental suffering: 

“He writhed about in agony.”

–Or the fact that Tyler stands triumphantly above me. He resets his fingers one by one, correcting all the migrated knuckles or errant phalanges. Then he perches on the stool and sets about cleaning a scrape on his calf with a small bottle of iodine. I kick my feet and scream as loud as I can. He pays no mind. He lights a cigarette.

Imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light. That’s right, your pain, the pain itself, is a white ball of healing light. Follow it to the door in your heart. Go to your cave, and find your power animal.

I screw my eyes shut. Go to your cave. That’s right, go to your cave. The floor is ice. The penguin is sitting there plainly.

Slide, it utters. Slide.

“Man, are you even listening to me?” Tyler’s voice cuts in and so does the scalding pain of the peroxide. “Don’t tell me you’re doing that stupid pseudo-therapy bullshit again. This is like your hand. You’ve gotta feel it, man!”

You don’t know what it’s like, Tyler! You don’t know how bad this hurts! 

Tyler turns around to reveal white, blistered wounds on his back. Once again, he has beaten me to the punch. “Five more minutes, man. Then I’ll bandage you up.” Five more minutes, he tells me, and I tell myself, but I know it’s a lie. Five more minutes won’t change a thing. Slide, I utter.

I feel like Richard Chesler (Regional Manager, Compliance & Liability Division, 39210 North Pennfield Blvd, reachable at (288) 555-0138 or simply by walking into his office – because that office is open at any time, to any of his employees!) with his hand firmly in somebody untrained’s grasp. How did the hydrogen peroxide feel in his stapler wound? How many people in that office heard him screaming and came running?

I’m screaming, but no one hears. No one cares. Tyler certainly doesn’t. Five more minutes. Count back from sixty, five times. Three-hundred seconds.

Five minutes. Five minutes consists of three-hundred seconds. However you break that down - two lots of one-hundred-fifty seconds, four of seventy-five, six of fifty, three-hundred of one, every five minutes that passed were three-hundred seconds. In three-hundred seconds, Tyler could do a lot.

In three-hundred seconds, Tyler could do something like pour lye onto the sizzling peroxide, or onto the bubbling scrapes. He could kick somebody so hard their already broken rib snapped a little further back, or a little further forward. He could break somebody’s finger. He could yell an order to stop crying so damn hard, or he could finally wet a scrap of bandages and start wiping the hydrogen peroxide and lye mixture out of somebody’s wounds.

In the next sixty, he could throw somebody the clean change of clothes from the side of the sink. He could cut their hands loose and he could take his cigarette outside the bathroom. He could sit on the sidewalk and smoke.

I get up. Stare into the mirror. Who is this? This imposter with bloodshot eyes, peeling scabs and a five o’clock shadow that screams neglect? I splash water on my face, rinsing away the bubbles of dead cells clinging to my skin. Parts of my genetic information wash away down the drain. Dead parts of my genetic information, but parts nonetheless.

Clean clothes feel like dressing a corpse. Of course, it’s a temporary fix, like a band-aid on a bullet wound, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m moving like autopilot. Maybe I can kick back in my chair and let autopilot do its job. Reach the cruising altitude of 42,000 feet. Wait for the air hostesses to bring me a neatly packed microwave meal that doesn’t taste like anything, kicking just short of inedibly bland.

The air hostesses seem to be doing a good job, because within the next ten minutes, I’m bandaged up and clothed. Clean, but reeking of piss and sweat. Whoever cleans this bathroom will find a pair of urine-soaked pants and boxers in the garbage. If they look underneath that, they will also find a bloodstained shirt belonging to an average corporate everyman. If they even found the pants, that is.

Tyler is not sitting outside on the curb when I walk out in a pair of khakis and a nobody-knows-what-show graphic tee. Looking for Tyler isn’t a way to pass the time. The city’s a blur of gray and monotony. In the distance, people are moving like automatons, each lost in their own personal hell. I wonder if they feel it too. I wonder how they would feel if they had hydrogen peroxide poured onto their softest, weakest parts. I wonder how they would deal with their stomach spasming and cramping as they walk home. I wonder how they would feel losing everything, down to the last drop of dignity.

Losing everything brings you closer to yourself, I suppose. It hasn’t helped me yet, but it brought me closer to Tyler.

Speaking of, Tyler is nowhere to be found. At work, I’m just another cog in the machine, pushing paper and pretending it matters. At work, Tyler is a savior. He saved me from mediocrity. He also saved me from infection. 

I pass a car with a book lying in the passenger seat. Something by Friedrich Nietzsche.

I remember from Beyond Good and Evil: “He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.” Too late, Nietzsche. I’m already there. I wonder if Tyler is, too. Or, I wonder if he feels like one.

The walk back to Paper Street is long. Tyler will be nowhere to be found.

(thanks so much to @soapycatsbath for proofing this about two million times because I cannot shut the actual fuck up. also @jacksprostate for the ability to write the narrator somewhat convincingly and @paperstreetlocal for their stupid fucking instagram stories I love you all and have a good morning. sorry for the yapping.)

[angelamajiki]

Damn that Bully Dabi and Hawks fic was an amazing read! I love it when you write them full on bastard mode!

Pro Hero Bakugou sexually harassing his weak quirkless secretary who does her very best at her job. She's good at it but Bakugou always looks mad (read: sexually frustrated). High on success after a good rescue, he wants to celebrate....

OR

Cop Bakugou sees a pretty little thing outside a club. She looks sus so he decides she needs a pat down. Maybe he'll plant something to blackmail her into doing certain favors. Very bully, very bastard Bakugou.

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Bakugou x Secretary! Quirkless! AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, dirty talk, choking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, scumbage bakugou, use of the word rape, quirkless reader, size difference, age gap, death threats, sexual harrassment, bullying, mindbreak, masturbation, office sex

AN: I’ll probably write the cop Bakugo at some point too! For now, mind the tags and enjoy :)

They say to never meet your idols and in retrospect, you wished you would have listened.

Try as you might, it seemed like Mr. Dynamight was never satisfied with your work. Admittedly, you joined his agency as his office secretary based on having a crush on the pro, but you assumed his brash nature would calm down in an office setting. You did everything he asked, obediently followed his every word, which was all met with harsh glares and what you thought were dissatisfied grunts.

Surely you thought it wouldn't be about your being quirkless, but rumors were high strung in the office about the blonde’s feeling towards those without quirks. It would explain the harsh glares and judgment he passed on you despite your work effort.

The man even went as far as to ask for your personal phone number, only to leave scathing voicemails whenever you couldn't show up to work or miss out on work gatherings he put together. You couldn't help but flush at the thought of him missing your presence. Maybe you were just bad at reading his signals? Or maybe he was just hell-bent on bullying you more than the rest of the staff.

The job paid very well, so you couldn't exactly up and leave based on his behavior. However, you did notice how...handsy Mr. Dynamight has become with you. It was subtle at first, brushing shoulders in the hallways, letting his fingers ghost against yours when he handed you paperwork.

It soon escalated to always having a hand on your shoulder, holding your hips when he had to brush behind you, towering over you from behind your chair when you showed him something. You couldn't say that you weren't flattered, but his rough demeanor remained.

It started becoming uncomfortable when he made passes at you, making sure you were cornered and alone when he did.

“C’mon, am I really that fuckin’ intolerable that you can't get lunch with me, pipsqueak?”

You assumed that he was just messing with you, so you always turned him down with a flushed face and ran back to your desk, leaving him blue balled and more desperate by the day. There's no way a pro hero like him would actually be interested in someone quirkless and weak like yourself.

But that's the reason why he liked you anyway. So small, so weak, so obedient, so perfect for him to fuck up. God, if he didn't want just to rip your tiny pencil skirt to threads and spear you on his cock like no tomorrow. A pretty thing like yourself shouldn't be working. No, no, no. You should be at home, in his home in his bed with his ring on your finger. You belong to him, don't you see that?

Katsuki only ever gives you the time of day, not those other stupid bitches who crawl up his ass every morning trying to get a crumb of attention. And what do you do with his precious time? Waste it. Always whining about how you really shouldn't, that he shouldn't be seen with someone like you. As if he gives a fuck about what the media has to say.

He even checks up on you when you're not at work! Isn't he such a gentleman? Sure, he's a bit vulgar, but he's trying to show he cares. But if you want to act like a stuck-up bitch, then he’ll gladly treat you like one.

After a particularly tough fight with a villain, the blonde wanted nothing more than to use and abuse you to get some steam off his chest. It was late, but he prayed to whatever gods were out there that you were still in the office. He left you a voicemail for good measure, hoping that you would do what you always did best and stayed obedient for him.

It was locked up for the night, but he could see your office light on from the street. Perfect. Such a good girl for him. Little did he know that you stayed late quiet often.

You hadn't even seen his previous call come through; you were too busy listening to an old one with plenty of derogatory terms being spat your way. A hand shoved in your skirt, you couldn't help but finger yourself the sound of his voice calling you moronic for skipping out of work. Mr. Dynamight was your childhood crush after all, you had jerked off to plenty of interviews of him in the past. Sure, it was creepy but no one had to know. The older man was so big, so strong and handsome. You couldn't help but feel fuzzy from the voicemail, even if it was degrading you, it was for you alone.

Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Well, shit. Whadda we have here, pipsqueak?”

A rough chuckle came from behind you as he pulled your desk chair out and swiveled towards him.

“Caught ya red-handed, huh? Who knew you were such a little slut for me.”

Taking the phone from your hand, he hung it up on the receiver and took your hand out of your panties. He snatched your fingers greedily in his mouth and sucked your wetness off of him.

“You know what, I’m feeling a bit hungry. And you taste like something in the vein of what I’m tryin’ to have for dinner.”

Katsuki devoured you in a hungry kiss, lifting you out of the chair and onto your desk. He tossed aside the papers messily and spread your legs to see your slick moistening your sheer tights and panties.

“Bend over and spread that fuckin’ pretty pussy for me, pipsqueak.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough by being caught with your pants down, literally.

“That wasn't a question, that was a command, you bratty bitch. What happened to your manners?”

God did his words stir something deep inside you. Waiting was no longer a priority; catching you like this was proof enough in his mind that you were just playing hard to get.

“You should consider yourself lucky that I want you to sit on my face, you know that? I have bitches trying to get on my dick every day, but it only gets hard for you, pipsqueak.”

“I-I thought you didn't like quirkless people!”

“It's all the more reason I want to be balls deep in your cunt right now. So weak and pathetic, it's fucking cute.”

You could feel yourself tighten around nothing just at his words. He was right, you were just a pathetic plaything for him. Not hesitating any longer, he ripped off your skirt and threw it behind the both of you. Your tights also got ripped to shreds, leaving you in your blouse and panties.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He muttered, mostly to himself as he took your panties off and pocketed them. For later, he thought.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to spit on your already wet cunt before diving into his meal. Each stroke of his tongue sent fire straight to your core, each suckle of his lips drew a whimper from your mouth. Hips bucked into his mouth before he held them down, using just one hand to cover your torso. So small and petite for him, how cute would you be up against his massive form.

“M-Mr. Dynamight!”

“Heh, so fuckin’ cute. Call me Katsuki, sweet thing. Or daddy, if you're nasty like that.”

Your hips were held taught against his face, not allowing you to squirm or inch away from his searing tongue fucking your hole. He continued to ravage you with his mouth, pulling away only a few times to give your pussy a nice spank. Groaning into your cunt, he stroked himself at the same time.

Humiliation had dissolved into pleasure as he serviced you, tears springing in your eyes as he gripped his head tightly with your hands and thighs. Having already masturbated before getting caught, it didn't take long for him to make you see stars and roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“K-Katsuki, I’m cumming!” You shouted, squirting onto his tongue as your body shook around his head. Your fingers threaded deeply into his hair and tugged as he continued to work his tongue into your hole, riding out your orgasm.

He didn't stop, though.

“Too much, it's too much!”

“I’ll stop when I’m finished, little girl.”

You tried to push his head away, but he gripped your wrists from under your legs and had you pinned against his mouth, shaking and screaming from overstimulation. Once he brought you another good nut, he pulled away and gave your clit a kiss, chuckling when you jumped.

Standing up, he pushed his mask up to pull his back and took his rock-hard cock from his pants. He spat on your dripping hole once again before lining up his fat head with it.

Katsuki hissed as he sank himself into your cunt, holding your hips in place as you whined and squirmed under him, still overly sensitive. God, were you gripping him in all the right ways. Your legs around his waist, your hands on his forearms, and your cunt around his cock.

“Relax, pipsqueak, or I’ll end up breaking you.” He chuckled. “But you might like that, huh?”

Seeing your teary, fucked out face while teasing you? He nearly jizzed himself on the spot. But he had to hold out for you. A choked gasp was all you could respond with as he got right in your face, breath tickling your cheeks as he looked in your eyes.

“Such a dirty slut, getting off to the sound of my voice. It's better in person, isn't it?”

“D-Daddy!”

Was all you could whine as his thumb made his way to your clit, drawing slow, gently circles with his roughed-up finger.

“Oi, oi, oi, did I break ya already, pipsqueak? Y’know, you coulda just asked for my cock like a good girl if you were gonna get this drunk off it.”

His hips slowly drew back, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in, earning a squeal from you.

“Or maybe you wanted me to take you by force? Show ya what the fuck happens to quirkless little girls who tease their fuckin’ man so much that he just has to come and take their little cunt to show ‘em who’s boss, eh?”

You couldn't help but tighten around him from his words, squirming under his hot breath as he started to grind his hips up into yours slowly.

“Good girl, letting daddy rape your cunt so willingly.”

Katsuki chuckled, sealing a hot kiss on your mouth while he gripped your throat. His hips began to piston in and out of your pussy, thick veins grinding against your spongy walls.

His brutal kisses swallowed your moans and tears while he squeezed your throat. His other thumb continued to swipe against your clit in fast motions, causing your to clamp down and flutter against his thick cock.

“Shoulda known you were a whore from the start, wearing those skirts that hugged ya in all the right places. Bending over and letting me touch you how I pleased, it's like you wanted this to happen.”

The pace of his thrust increased as he started to chase his orgasm, holding your throat and hips down to use you like the hole he knew you were. He growled and snarled into your mouth as he choked you, even more, watching the blood flood to your face.

“Yeah, baby, I've got your life in my hands now. If you won't be mine, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Then nobody can have you.”

“Y-Yours! I’m yours!” You managed to gasp out, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into it, hoping he’ll let you up for air

“Damn straight, now cum for me, you quirkless little bitch.”

The haziness from the lack of air and the pleasure pooling in your gut sent you over the edge a third time, making you cry out his name as you came. Katsuki was right behind you, eyes screwed shut and practically foaming at the mouth as he came deep inside you, finally letting you breathe once he finished himself off.

You sputtered and coughed, desperate to fill your lungs with air as he pushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“Ya did good, pipsqueak.”

He praised, giving your ass a spank before pulling out and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re coming home with me, so don't worry about the mess.”

“By the way, you're fired.”

TAG LIST: @tomurasprincess @suzuki-violin-school @sightoru @alrunemara

[kokonoisgf]

Falling - Gojo Satoru x Reader

⭑  ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ 

!!! MINORS DNI !!! 18+ content ahead

+ this kinda really flopped on ao3, so I’ll repost it here hehe. I wrote this a while back but i’m still super proud of it!! I hope you guys like it too <3

+ explicit sexual content, fem reader, porn w plot <3

+ too lazy to proofread- 

+ w.c : 8.2k

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ 

The music blared, drowning you in what seemed like a never-ending playlist of pop music. Mass of sweaty bodies mingled on the dance floor, while you relaxed at the bar, sipping on your heavily alcoholic cocktail. Lights flashed alternating between different shades of fuchsia, blue, green, and violet to the beat of the song. Your face felt warm, feeling bubbly in the pit of your stomach, gaze darting toward your friends having a blast on the dance floor with strangers. You grinned, leaning your head in the palm of your hand, planning to go join them once you'd be done with your drink. Your black bodycon dress rilled up your thighs, exposing the sweet delicate skin of your slender legs, which, unbeknownst to you, had men's ogling you left and right. A specific group of 3 men's had their eyes on you by the entrance, snickering. Their gaze held something malicious, but you were too tipsy to take notice of that or even care. You got cut out of your little trance by your friends coming back to you, smelling of a mix of alcohol and perfume. "We'll be heading back now Y/N" "Aw really? I was about to join you" You fake pouted, not really minding as you'd just go binge watch some of your favorite shows at home instead. Taking your hands, their heavily drunk self dragged you outside, all beaming and laughing. A couple of men's followed suit, you paid it no mind knowing that your friends were most likely taking them home. You made them promise to call you, and share their location on their phones as they exited in their respective cabs kissing your cheeks goodbye, their partner for the night following. you wrapped your black fur coat around yourself tighter, taking your phone off to dial a cab for yourself. You felt stares drill a hole into your body, the coat tightly wrapped around yourself only highlighting your delicious curves. As you were composing the cab's phone number you got rudely interrupted by someone snatching your phone away. Yelping, it took you a second to realize what was going on, your drunkness still hitting you with full force. In front of you stood three men, the one in the middle holding your pink cellphone between his digits. Their faces were disgusting, looking at you like you were nothing but prey on their list. Eyes glossy most likely from their alcohol intake, they reeked of cheap cologne and sweats. "Leaving alone tonight sweetheart?" one purred in a sultry voice, you backed away crossing your arms over your chest defensively. The alcohol in your system gave you a confidence you never knew you possessed "Give me back my phone, now." The males snickered, as the middle one shook his head dropping it in his pockets. "Not with that attitude, anyways what're you going to do about it-" he paused, stepping forward, desperately trying to close the distance between you two. You gasped, taking another step back almost falling, your vision was blurry, your senses weakened. You mentally cursed for going so heavily on the drinking, feeling yourself wobble. A shiver racing up your spine, the sudden gust of wind hit you, not to mention the snowflakes falling on your face and bare legs. "Leave me alone!" You faltered, eyes darting for anyone that could be of help, but everyone seemed in a daze too engrossed with the muffled music, or busy making out with a stranger. "Hey honey, are those creeps bothering you?" The sweetest voice resonated throughout your ears, feeling your back lend against something warm. A hand snaked around your waist pulling you closer to their protective figure, making sure that you were stable. "H-Huh--" You stuttered, blinking in confusion, looking up at the person behind you. He was tall, really tall, with locks the same color as snowflakes, a bandana covering his eyes. He wore a jean jacket over a dark top, with beige pants. It didn't take you more than one glance to notice that he was really handsome. Your eyes lingered a bit on the bandana, wondering if he possibly was blind, before grasping a hold of the situation. "Y-Yes they are" playing your part, you snuggled closer into his chest, relishing in the warmth he provided. Your voice was low, glaring daggers at the men's, holding unto your savior for dear life. His digit slowly caressed your arm, until he interlocked fingers with yours, walking up to the guys. His aura was intimidating, leaning down to be at eye level with them. You gulped down, he must have been 6' tall at least or something. "Now then, I'd like to have my girlfriend's phone back now" He grinned, extending his free hand, palm open. The large hand holding yours gave a light squeeze, seeming to thank you for your cooperation. Suddenly, as the trio carefully analyzed who was standing in front of them, their faces paled, all color draining leaving them as white as your savior's locks. Tilting your head to the side, you couldn't help but wonder if he was somehow known around here. "W-Wait Is that-" "Uh- Yes it's-" The trio almost started shaking like leaves, quickly handing back the phone. It wasn't long until they were out of sight, running inside the club, mingling back into the crowd. You beamed, as he turned back to you, towering above your small frame handing you back your belonging. You thanked him, letting your gaze linger on his face. His nose and tip of his ears were slightly pinkish due to the snow falling, his lips rosy-tinted. You couldn't help but stare in a daze, still wondering if he was blind. Your eyes scanned his surroundings for any signs of a cane or something, but none to avail. Nonetheless, your tipsy brain concluded, without any proof, that the man indeed lacked sight. Taking your sweet time to scan his face and gorgeous locks, you couldn't help but blush, he really was extremely good looking there was no denying it. "You know, you're actually pretty cute staring at me like that." A grin plastered against his lips, he tilted his head to the side, chuckling. You yelped, covering your mouth with the back of your free hand. "W-Wait you're not blind-" If that was even possible, his grin widened, "Luckily for me I'm not" he paused, giving another squeeze to your interlocked hands, reminding you that you were still holding hand with a complete stranger you'd met a mere 5 minutes ago. You couldn't help but gasp again, sweet melodic sounds escaping your lips. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your cold skin, leaning down, now at eye level with you, "You see, I'm glad I still have perfect vision to admire the sight in front of me right now" Your blush deepened, looking off to the side, trying to save your pride as much as you could. His words were swooning you way more than they should, was it the alcohol? or was it this mysterious aspect of him? But most importantly, how silly were you to even assume that he was blind after he just helped you, ugh curse your foolish little brain. You blamed it on his handsome features, must have gotten you distracted or something. "Smooth talker aren't you" you grimaced at him, cheeks reddish for being so fervently exposed to checking him out blatantly. You started to let go of his hand, even if you clearly didn't want to. Something about him entranced you, making you want to know more about him, even if he was just a mere stranger. "I was fine with holding hand, but if you insist" He teased in a sing-song voice, taking notice in the way you held your coat so closely to your frame. Shivers racked through your body, never imagining that you'd been waiting outside for so long, your outfit clearly not appropriate for this icy weather. "Here," You blinked, eyes glued to the man offering you his dark jean jacket. It was clearly oversized for you, yet you could smell his cologne and it enticed you to accept it. Snowflakes started falling on his broad shoulder, reflecting the light from the club's neon signs. "But, you'll be cold, '' you muttered, trying to put up a fight, knowing damn well you were freezing to the bones. "On the contrary, I'm pretty hot. Don't you think?" Your cheeks flared, it was as if he was reading your every thought. Huffing you wrapped the jacket around yourself, nuzzling your face into it trying to keep your face from freezing. "Do you want me to inflate your ego that badly?" "Well, you kinda already did considering how you were staring at me earlier sweetheart" He grinned, hand coming to shake off the snow from his hair. Your blush increased tenfold, his flirty behavior really getting to you. "Shut up I wasn't-" you retorted in a futile attempt to gain some dignity back, looking off to the side pouting. Leaning down, his scent swirled around you, face mere centimeters away from yours. You gulped, eyes scanning his delicate face: his lips seemed so soft, a thin coat of lips balm covering them, you wondered how it tasted. What was his favorite flavor, cherry? or maybe strawberry? "There you go again, ah so cute." He teased, proving himself right once again, his hot breath ghosting over your face smelling of mint and candy. Covering your cheeks with your hand, it felt like your face was on fire. "You talk too much" A chuckle escaped his parted lips, a fake pout now plastered on his handsome feature "Ah so mean to me" you couldn't hold back a giggle at the way he said it, hand coming to cover your mouth. The snowstorm went on, as you took your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it to look at the time. 1:15 a.m showed on the screen, your battery settling at a low 10%. Pursing on your lips, you didn't want this moment to end, completely enticed by this stranger but you had to call a cab before your phone died on you. Curse you for forgetting your charger as always. "You know, I'm a pretty good driver, I can drive you home if you'd like" His proposition took you aback, was this man really capable of reading your every thought? You couldn't possibly fathom what made this handsome stranger be so interested in you, your mind still a bit hazy from your previous drinks. Pursing on your lips, you definitely wanted to spend more time with him, yet feeling bad to make him become your personal driver before even knowing his name. "Are you're sure? I'd feel bad making you drive me home, plus I live quite far" you muttered sheepishly hands fondling with the hem of his jacket. "Anything for a pretty lady, and besides if you live too far-" He paused stepping closer, a hand coming to push back a strand of hair that the harsh winter breeze had pushed into your face, "It so happens that I live really close by" You stood there in shock, as this attractive stranger so blatantly exposed wanting to take you home. You gulped down, eyes scanning his face for any signs of it being mere teasing. Yet, he seemed honest, a grin still covering his face. "You really are a smooth talker" giggling, you nodded accepting his proposition fervently. Was it because of your semi-drunk state or the thoughts of what could possibly happen over at his house, you clearly had no intention of refusing his delightful offer. Everything about him made your core feel warm, yet you knew so little. Starting to walk toward his car, you stopped in astonishment at the sheer luxury of the vehicle. He beamed, opening your door for you, settling your purse into your lap sitting on the dark leather seat. You played with the strap of your bag, waiting for him to join you on the conductor side. As he sat, and closed his door his scent mingled with you, making the apple of your cheeks darken. "You're too damn adorable you know that?" You yelped, catching him gazing at you, putting his seatbelt on. "look who's talking-" You muttered to yourself unbeknownst that this man seemed to possess super hearing chuckling at your response. "Being called adorable is definitely a first, but I'll take it if it comes from you" His large veiny hand opened the vents, warm air now flooding inside the car, you sighed in delight. "Also sweetheart, I wouldn't want to bring a lady home before at least knowing her name" He paused, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand, "you know I do am a well-mannered man after all" He slyly said, head tilted to the side. His gorgeous ivory locks slightly damped considering the snowflakes that melted. Tongue darting out to lick your dried up lips from the cold, you blushed "L/N Y/N" "Ah L/N Y/N, sounds like music to my ear, I'm Gojo Satoru" ❄❄❄ Opening up the Bluetooth station he turned his head, most likely shooting you a glance under his bandana. "I hope you got any good music Y/N, you'll be our DJ for the ride" A grin formed on his lips as you started beaming. "Of course I do!" You retorted confidently, connecting to the Bluetooth at the speed of light. He hummed, starting the car, the scent of leather mingling with your own. As you put on your favorite song, he shouted "No way! You listen to Megan Thee Stallion? I knew there was something I liked about you sweetheart" Your heart thumped in your chest, feeling like it might burst out. His blatant honesty was striking you right in the heart. He really knew how to transform you into a blushing mess. "You got good taste too, She's really fire" your eyes twinkled, relinquishing in this feeling. Humming, Gojo turned to you, sticking his tongue out to you, "I know I got good taste Y/N, that's why you're coming back home with me after all" You swore you could saw him wink under his bandana, your blush increasing tenfold. You playfully, hit his arm, grimacing back at him, letting the music surround the both of you. As the chorus hit, Gojo was fully vibing, dancing to the sound. One hand on the wheel, he sang the rapping part perfectly, moving his upper body sensually to the beat of the song. His hair moved alongside him, chest huffing as he sang. You got entranced, eyes glued to him, seeing him drive with one hand, was somehow so sexy making your heart flutter. Starting to sing alongside him, he shot you a glance, grinning widely, the drive to his home way better than your whole clubbing experience so far. ❄❄❄ His apartment was extremely spacious, to say the least. The walls were covered in large windows, a spacious leather couch, and what seemed like at least a 60 inches television on the wall. The floor was a sublime chestnut wood, walls as snowy as his hair. A few plants adorned the corners of the apartment the whole thing reminding you of what you'd see in magazines or on the internet. You couldn't hold back your amazement, mouth forming an o shape, which made Gojo chuckle. Taking off his shoes, he proceeded to Drop the keys on the counter. He stretched, "Can I offer you something to drink?", face buried in his huge fridge, seeming to push bottles around from the sounds of it. You left both your coat and his jean jacket on a nearby chair, shoes neatly placed next to his, letting it dry up from the snowstorm outside, turning to him. Your dress hugged your curve to perfection, the small material barely covering what needed to be covered, stopping above mid-thighs. You wore a gold necklace, with gold hoops earrings your hair falling down your back, your collarbones full exposed. "Hmmm" You pondered, walking up to him, standing on your tiptoes trying to see something. Feeling your presence behind him, Gojo risked a glance in your direction, his smirk widening tenfold. "Are you trying to make me fall for you by looking like that darling? Because honestly, it's working 100 percent" pursing on his lips, his tongue darted out to wet them, your gaze instantly following suit. You felt your face erupt once again "H-Huh! It's not like that, I just wanted to dry up our coats" You stammered trying to defend yourself, arms flailing in front of you. He chuckled, gaze devouring you under the dark fabric that covered his eyes. Crossing your arms over your chest you grimaced at him, "Do you have white wine by any chance?" He nodded, "Of course my lady" moving the bottles around, deciding on one. Dropping it on the table he reached for one of the cupboards above his fridge, getting two glasses. You watched him in astonishment, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. He seemed to take notice in your endeavor as per usual, grinning "Something caught your eye sweetheart?" he remarked, pouring you a glass. You huffed, looking off to the side defensively, "You're just very attractive that's all..." You muttered the last part, which only seemed to inflate his never-ending ego. Cutting him off before he dared crack another flirty joke, you asked "How tall are you?" your curiosity was getting the best of you, as you sipped on the drink, the warmth of it enveloping you. He was so mysterious, the only thing you knew about him was his name, yet it was like you were craving for more. It wasn't like you to be that way, not usually caring what your partner for the night liked to drink, or what his favorite tv show was, but for the snowy-haired man in front of you, you'd actually memorize those facts in a heartbeat. He had you entranced, muddy in the palm of his hand. He leaned against the kitchen counter, leaning down, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand. "Thank you, you're pretty damn gorgeous yourself, and I'm around 6'3 I would say" He grinned being completely obvious to the fact that his height was a major turn on, bringing the drink to his lips. Your eyes followed his glass, gulping down. You scrunched your nose, a hand coming to twirl a piece of your hair. "Any other question darling?" He teased, taking his sweet time into savoring the intoxicating liquid. You knew damned well what you wanted to know, something you'd been wondering ever since you laid your gaze on him. "Yes actually, since you claim not being blind, what color are your eyes" You were getting bold, bolder than you'd usually be, the alcohol reigniting the fire inside you. If that was even possible, his smirk grew wider, head tilted to the side, "Oh, that's something I get asked a lot, so I'll give you 2/10 for the originality" He paused chuckling, taking another sip. You pouted stepping closer, your mind was running wild, what color could his beautiful irises be? Forest green? Ocean blue? or maybe coffee-colored ones? It was burning you on the inside, like an insatiable itch that you couldn't get rid of. "Does every girl ask you that?" You teased, feeling a slight pinch of jealousy scraping your heart. He laughed, instantly taking notice "ah you're too obvious, already getting jealous about my whereabouts aren't you?" Your face caught on fire at his words, your blush probably the color of the cherries on the kitchen counter by now. He twirled the glass in his hand, satisfied with the response he elicited from you before saying: "They do ask, but I rarely show anyone" He paused taking a sip, tongue licking up a droplet that was running down the glass. He had gotten strangely serious for the first time since your meeting, "But for you, I'd make an exception". You were taken aback, scanning his face for signs of it being a mere joke, but once again the man seemed utterly honest. You wondered if there was a specific reason as to why he hid his eyes, but you decided upon not asking now, it was rather too soon, and not of your business. He straightened himself, now towering above you. "On one condition, I'll let you do the honor of taking it off, deal?" He grinned coming back to his natural goofy self, seeming to take pleasure in your state. Your anticipation was killing you, feeling it in the pit of your stomach, nodding fervently ready to accept any condition if it meant seeing what was underneath that damned piece of fabric. As your hand reached for the material, standing on your tiptoes, the man caught your wrist giving it a slight squeeze. "Oh! but take a guess first" He stuck his tongue at you, as you visibly grumped, "You said one condition" You argued back, letting your heels fall back on the wooden floor, his long fingers still holding on to you. His hand was radiating warmth, making you miss your situation earlier when you were in his embrace. "hmm--" you pondered, taking a good look at his face. He would be handsome with any eye color really, yet you were taking so much fun into guessing it, trying to picture every possibility unto his face. Really wanting to win this little competition, you decided to go with what seemed like your safest bet. "I'll go with brown!" you beamed, feeling confident. That was until his grin widened, letting go of your hand. He waved his finger, seeming to wink under his bandana "We'll see about that '' You pursed your lips, feeling as if you had taken the wrong option, from his remark. Grasping a hold of the hem of his shirt you tugged on it slightly, "lean down a bit you're too tall" You complained, to which he obliged, literally going down on his knees. "Weren't you swooning over my height just a moment ago?" He teased, proceeding to imitate in a high pitched tone what was supposed to be your voice: "How tall are you?" Your embarrassment was out of bound, cheeks burning for being so blatantly exposed yet again, he really had no mercy in store for you. "Shut it- I have more important things to focus on right now" You retorted, earning a chuckle from him. He was right in front of you, a bit below eye level now, but you were finally able to take a good look at his angelic feature, which only made your heartbeat boosts tenfold. You had never met, or even seen, someone as good looking as him. What was his deal though? Taking such a liking to you, yes he did protect you from these creeps but now he was just fueling your fantasies and dreams even more. "Anytime now darling" He burst your bubble, bringing you back to reality, your hands darting toward the material. Sliding one finger underneath, you felt your hands shake a little. Was it because of all this built up anticipation, or was it because you were afraid that you'd actually fall even more for him when you'll see his full features? Slowly pulling it down, Gojo remained silent, smirking, probably planning something mischievous. As the material fell down, now hanging around his neck, you peered before almost shouting at the sight: his eyes were closed. "Oh my god- Open your eyes! You can't do this to me-" Midway into your childlike tantrum, laughter escaped his parted lips, eyes opening. The sight literally knocked the air out of your lungs, You stood there star-struck, your gaze melting into his. You couldn't believe your eyes, your mind refusing to process what was right in front of you. Beautiful sapphire irises looked back at you, adorned with full lashes as white as his hair. Was there something this guy didn't have?! Your mouth stayed slightly open, silence filling the apartment. Not only that, but also his hair had fallen down, now framing his delicate face so perfectly. Locks of snowy hair contrasting with his slightly tanned skin. He looked back at you, head tilting to the side before waving a hand in front of your face. "You still alive Y/N?" He teased, eyes twinkling, taking off the bandana fully and settling it on the counter. "Your eyes, they're gorgeous" you muttered, you wanted to say so much more but you were still processing how utterly beautiful that man was. It struck you right in the heart, as now, whenever his glance caught yours, you'd feel the apple of your cheeks heat up even more than before. "Thank you, I got quite the genes I admit." He cockily replied, taking a sip of wine, eyelashes fluttering. Your regard was glued to him, walking to the counter to get your glass, scooting closer to him in the process. You felt the need to compliment him more, was it because of the intoxicating alcohol now pulsating through your veins, you didn't know, but your mouth opened nonetheless: "Is that why you never show your eyes? You're afraid that girls will fall for you left and right?" You taunted grimacing, thinking you'd gotten back at him for being such a tease himself before it dawned on you that your big mouth had gotten you into quite the messy situation. Humming, Gojo leaned on the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering under the light, "So basically," He almost purred, running a hand through his ivory locks, "You just admitted falling for me. Did I hear you right, honey?" His face arbored the biggest grin you'd ever seen, knowing full well he had you under the spotlight right there, while his overly handsome self sipped on his drink. He was mere centimeters away, his scent completely intoxicating you. You cursed yourself for being so light-headed, your silly self not knowing to think twice before saying something. The alcohol had all subdued, not feeling any signs of being drunk or tipsy either, and yet you were still silly. Flashes from your earlier situation appeared in your mind, hoping you'd get to be in his embrace soon enough. Yet, you couldn't inflate his ego more than it was, his head would probably implode at this rate. As you were about to retort back, he shushed you placing a finger on your lips, "Shush, it's okay baby, I'm kinda falling for you too you know" He smirked, his digit caressing the smooth skin of your rosy lips. You were star struck, gaze melting into his, his touch lighting a fire within you. You had this growing urge to just please him, let him dominate you fully. The alcohol ignited lust, slowly opening your mouth, taking his digit inside your mouth. His eyes gleamed, now half-lidded, a low moan escaping his lips. Your tongue swirled and licked his long finger, feeling yourself get soaked at the thoughts of it inside you. His gaze never left the show in front of him, slowly coming to bit down on his lips. The mere sensation of your tongue against his digit made his length throb in his pants. You pulled away with a wet satisfying 'pop', gaze swirling with lust. His other hand came to grab your chin slightly, tilting it upward. The mere action made your core feel warm, already submitting entirely to him. He leaned down, bringing the finger that was previously in your mouth, into his. Never breaking eye contact with you, he hummed tasting yourself off his finger, before saying: "Don't get me wrong sweetheart, that indirect kiss was pretty hot, but I'd rather be doing this." And with that, he instantly crashed his lips on yours. You couldn't hold back a moan, all the built-up anticipation hitting you full force. His lip balm smelling of cherry, one of your hands came to rest on his shoulder feeling his muscles underneath the dark fabric. Damn, he was a good kisser, tongue swirling around yours, leaving nothing untouched. It was rare for you to feel yourself get soaked already from just a kiss, but this man seemed to possess supernatural powers or something. His thumb rubbed soothing patterns on your cheek, his tongue lapping at your lips eliciting yet another sinful moan from you. Taking this opportunity, Gojo slide his tongue into your mouth leaving nothing untouched. Towering above you, one of his hand slid down your back, resting on the back of your waist. Breaking away from the kiss, he panted, eyes twinkling. "May I gorgeous?" The hand resting on your waist gave a slight squeeze indicating what he meant. You blushed at his behavior, obviously agreeing. Large palms slide down the small of your back, fingers digging into your plump rear. The man almost let out a moan, eyelashes fluttering feeling your curves under his touch. His reaction only fueled your lust, even more, desire swirling into your irises locking gaze with him. A glance was all you needed to understand Gojo, as you jumped wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands instantly planted themselves on your ass supporting you, taking their time to feel you up, leaving nothing untouched. His touch was like fire, making you moan from its simplest movement, making a chuckle erupt from him. "Don't stop making those noises for me baby" He ordered, lips crashing back down on yours. You could only hum, your fingers tangled into his snowy white hair. Tugging on his locks slightly, the man groaned grinding his already fully erect cock on your panties. You gasped in the kiss, which the man didn't hesitate to take advantage of his tongue swirling in your mouth. Your dress had obviously rilled up, your bare ass now barely covered. As you deepened the kiss, saliva mixing with his, you felt him start walking toward the back of his apartment where you had noticed his room earlier. However, you were wrong to assume that he would have made it this far, no, not with how utterly hot you looked right now. Dropping your body on the couch, he nestled in between your legs. Encaging you between his arms, one of his large hands grasped both of your wrists pinning them up above your hand. He had such long fingers that both of your wrists seemed like merely nothing in his hands. Breaking the kiss for air, the man panted above you. His warm breath hitting the tip of your nose, his forehead leaning on yours. His eyes were half-lidded, looking at you with pure desire swirling in them. The clear Saphire blue you had seen earlier had subdued to a more animalistic hue, pupils almost blown out, leaving barely any of the ocean like color to be seen.

You stood there in awe, gaze melting into his. He seemed like the embodiment of absolute perfection, and at that moment you just wanted to please him. Struggling to free your wrists you raised your hips grinding them against his clothed cock, eliciting a moan from the man above you. "Let me touch you please" You begged, lashes fluttering as you repeated your movement again, feeling his member twitch within the confine of his pants. Gojo smirked, raising an eyebrow at your needy tone, "I can't possibly refuse if you ask that nicely sweetheart". He teased, his vice grip on your wrists disappearing, taking this opportunity you turned him around sitting snugly on his hips. You grinned mischievously making sure to sit exactly on his large cock, feeling it twitch once again. God, he was hard, and he seemed so big it made your core swirl at the thoughts of him railing the absolute shit out of you. Gojo crossed his arms behind his neck, taking his sweet time to look you up and down, his usual grin covering his feature. It subdued quickly when your hands swiftly unzipped his pants dragging them down, making sure to drag your finger across his entire length. pursing on his lips, the man let out a moan, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "you're so big" You praised, not caring about inflating his ego. I mean, he deserved it right? That man was literally the most handsome guy you had ever come across, you just wanted to shower him with praises. He smirked, flashing you a wink "Oh? Am I really?" He teased in a sing-song voice playing coy. You only giggled, pulling down his black underwear, his cock colliding with his abdomen. Gojo hissed as the cold air hit his member, eyes half-lidded awaiting your next move with impatience. His dick was way beyond average both in length and girth. Tip rosy from being hard for so long, a bead of precum leaked slowly running down his entire length. You almost drooled at the sight, taking your sweet time to look at his cock, one finger coming to scoop the precum bringing it into your mouth. You moaned your tongue swirling and twirling around your digit, already intoxicated by his delicious taste. "Let me taste you again baby" he ordered his voice low, as he sat up. Taking his finger out of your mouth, you extended your arm forward, Gojo grabbing a hold of your wrist, tongue extending, licking the digit clean. He hummed lowly, eyes locked with yours as he did so. Pink muscle leaving no surface of his finger untouched, he moaned your name before leaning back down. "Suck me" You felt your heart rate spike up, your juice leaking from your core at the mere order from Gojo. You nodded, eyes dropping to his rock hard cock, hands settling on the base. Your tongue darted out, licking a clean stripe from the base to his engorged tip, mouth closing on it. You twirled your tongue a couple of times, feeling his large hands grab a hold of your hair. "That's my good girl" The mere words made you moan around his cock, the vibration only intensifying the pleasure for Gojo who threw his head back against the couch. Taking as much as you possibly could fit of his dick in your mouth, your hands moved around his shaft and balls desperately trying to bring him the utmost pleasure. It was working as groans and growls, escaped from Gojo's parted lips, half-lidded eyes never breaking away from you. "You look so good taking my cock like that baby-" He paused, hands massaging your scalp as if thanking you for the absolute best blow job he had, "but it's my turn now" and with that, he pulled you away from his cock, a thin string of saliva connecting you to his member. Leaning up he didn't hesitate a single second to capture your lips again into a kiss, a hand caressing your cheek guiding you back down under him. "You did amazing" He whispered, making you blush, "Thank y-" You squealed, feeling him drag you on the edge of the couch, your legs dangling off of it. “Now then, spread those pretty legs for me won't you?” He licked his lips, the cherry lips balm coating his velvety muscle. You couldn’t help but comply, long digits sliding across your soaked panties, index finger flicking where he knew exactly where your bundle of nerve was. He chuckled lowly, a thin coat of lust covering his sapphire irises. His fingers were already shiny with your essence, and he hadn’t even made direct contact with your core yet. “So wet for me already baby, did you enjoy sucking my cock that much?” He teased, knowing damned well the answer already. The silver-haired man hooked his fingers on the side of your panties, mouth almost watering at the sight of your glistening folds. You mewled, eyes glassy trying to push your core closer to him, eliciting yet another dark chuckle from him. “Needy little thing” his voice was coated with lust, azure eyes locking with yours. One of his long finger slowly parted your folds, collecting your glistening essence on his finger before plopping it in his mouth. He moaned, tasting you, “You taste even better than I’d imagined” “Stop teasing me” You managed to mutter between moans, a grin spreading on his face at your voice. Tilting his head to the side, his index finger twirled around your pearl never giving it the attention it oh so desired. “Beg for it” His voice was raspy, blowing hot air on your clit before flashing you a wink. Your cheeks, well your whole being, felt on fire. “Please eat me out-” You whimpered out, hoping it was enough to satisfy him. Your mind was into a frenzy, thoughts and sentences jumbling into one another, unable to form cohesive sentences. Chuckling, he pressed a soft kiss to your inner right thigh, “Tell me if i’m wrong but, a good girl like you can do better, right?” You threw your head back against his satin pillow, he really was playing hard to get. “ God Gojo please- just make me cum over your tongue already, I need you so badly!” You screamed out in frustration, fists clenching. At that point you didn’t care about anything but to feel his warm tongue on you, tasting your juices Cock twitching at your words, the sorcerer felt his own self restraint slowly crumble to pieces. He just wanted to take you right there, right now, to dick you down until you couldn’t walk anymore. He wanted to break you. You couldn't hold back the moan as you felt his breath hover right above your clit, “So obedient” he praised, before his tongue darted out licking a clean strip, before latching unto your bundle of nerves. Your reaction was instant, head thrown back as a fountain of moans of his name echoed within the room. Gojo felt his self restraint crumble to pieces, every pores in his body aching for him to bend you into a mating press and drill ino your pretty pussy. Yet, at the same time, the way your juices leaked around his mouth drove him to the brinks of insanity. Sapphire gaze darting back and forth between your glistening folds and your flushed face, he soon felt himself grind his aching cock against the side of the bed, desperately seeking friction. Your hands soon found themselves tangled into his ivory locks, only pressing him closer and closer to your soaked core. “G-Gojo” You cooed, feeling your release build up incredibly fast. Damn he was good, there was no denying it. The way he softened his tongue just enough to roll and lap at your clit, while his large hands spread your thighs, nails digging into your plush skin. The man was eating you out as if it was his last meal. “Yes my darling?” He purred, not breaking the contact with your pussy, hot air from his words only pushing you closer to the edge, the pet name not helping either. Noticing the way your cunt quivered at his word, the sorcerer raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh? Are pet names your weakness, my love?” He asked, even as he already knew the answer. His melodic voice would have been enough alone to push you into bliss, but right before you could cum, thighs shaking and hips stuttering, he pulled away. His keen eyes knew, right away the signs of your oh so awaited orgasm, only to deny it so sweetly. Your eyebrows furrowed, and before you could even retort about your stolen orgasm, the man was pinning you down, lips crashing unto yours. “God- you drive me crazy you know.” His sweet words made you swoon, however you tried as best as possible to keep reminding yourself that the man probably had partners left and right. I mean, with his look and absolute perfect personality? Who wouldn’t want him? You had to keep yourself grounded, or at least try to. One of his hand coming to stroke the side of your cheek brought you back to reality, as his forehead laid on yours. His cerulean eyes gazing into yours, before you felt the tip of his cock align with your drenched cunt. “Is this okay?” He murmured, holding himself up with one hand which only accentuated his biceps. You couldn’t help but nodd, of course you wanted him to rearrange your insides, to mold you into his cock. “I need to hear it dear” He pressed a kiss on your forehead, head tilted to the side, surprisingly patiently awaiting your response. Leaning up slightly, you captures his lips in yet another kiss before sliding your hand between your bodies and grasping his cock. “Fuck me before I do it myself” Gojo’s eyebrow raised, before he chuckled darkly. Taking a hold of your wrist he pinned them both above your head, one large hand way more than enough to hold them tightly into places. “Can’t leave you unsatisfied now, can I” and with that he pushed his length into you. You swore you could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix, molding your insides to his dick. The stretch was slightly painful, but oh dear god it felt amazing. Hips now flush against yours, he leaned back slightly discarding his shirt, throwing it on the floor somewhere. His kin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, muscles defined and flexing under the pleasure he was currently under. Noticing your lingering gaze his hand grasped your knees throwing them over his shoulder. You yelped, before he pressed a kiss against your ankle. “Look at me baby” He purred before drilling into your core. Your mewled and gasped, hands desperately seeking to hold unto dear life. His cock quite literally rearrnged your insides, Gojo looking down at your through his ivory lashes, lips stuck between his teeth. He was slightly silent asides from some pants and grunts here and there, as he wished to hear every little sound you made. Nails digging into your thighs, he let out a low groan as his pace never faltered, gaze darting between your pussy eagerly sucking him up and your fucked out face. “You’re taking me so well” He purred, before his hips came to meet yours at a rougher pace, almost sending you flying into the headboard if it wasnt for his hold unto your thighs. “So good to me-” His voice broke as he let out another groan. Your mewls and moans only spurred him on, before a trembling hand reached toward his face. “K-Kiss me-” You managed to mumble between incoherent babbles as he fucked your brain out. Gojo smirked, before gently dropping your knees and leaning down eagerly sealing your lips into yet another kiss. “Dont go and fall for me now-” He whispered between choked out groans, a sly smirk plastered on his features. As your hands tangled themselves into his locks he bit down on his lips, gaze lingering on your face. The way your cheeks burned and glossy eyes stared back at him, Gojo couldn’t help but latch his lips unto the soft skin of your neck earning a yelp from you. His cocky personality had subdued, leaving a rather soft persona underneath. Hips stuttering, he felt yourself clench tighter around him only signalling that you’d soon back into pure bliss. There was no way that he’d ever finish before you, prioritizing the needs of his partners way before his own. A string of moans fell from your lips as his bit down and sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. Feeling him smirk against your skin, he lapped at the spot teasingly “You’re gonna cum on my cock baby?” He cooed, blowing hot air, pace never faltering in the slightest. You could only manage a weak nodd, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure cursing through your veins. A loud moan of his name fell from your lips as you felt yourself unravel on his dick. Gojo groaned feeling you spasm around his cock, draging himself into the bliss as well. Leaning down he kissed you, encaging you between his arms as he rutted into your oversensitive pussy, hot milky cum tainting your walls white. “Fuck-” He cursed, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his, dick twitchnig into the depths of your cunt. It wasnt long until he let himself fall on top of you burying his head into the crook of your neck. Not even bothering to take his cock out, Gojo pressed feather like kisses all over your now hickey covered skin, eliciting a small giggle from you. “That was amazing” You purred, one hand running up and down his bare back. It was rare for the man to be so relaxed after such encounter, not that he’d usually ask his partner to seek themselves out of his house but, this time it felt different. “Thank you, thank you” Came his smug reply, before he lifted his face cerulean eyes locking with yours. Taking his dick out from inside your cum soaked core, He grinned, before rolling you over so you were now laying by his side, head resting on top of his chest. Your heart was hammering against your chest, as if clarity was hitting you full force. Here you were, snuggling with this handsome man you had met earlier, and yet you felt like you’ve known him forever. “Ah- what a bad host I am. Let me clean you up” Gojo suddenly exclaimed, before making his way to the bathroom to fetch a warm wet cloth for you. After cleaning himself up quickly, but effectively he was back into the room with a glass of water and the cloth. You blushed before telling him you could clean yourself to which he agreed, handing you the water. “Do you need a spare of clothe?” He questioned now rummaging through his drawers. The question took you aback, blinking as you stared at him in silence for a few moment. You weren’t expecting to spend the night at his place, not that you were complaining, but it felt too good to be true, really like fate had somehow brought the two of you together. “Did I fuck you too good that you forgot how to speak lovely?” His voice brought you back to reality as he smugly grinned at you, leaning on the drawer. He looked absolutely ethereal, messy locks framing his pale face and body sculpted by the gods themselves. “Shut it-” “I’ll take that as a yes” He cooed, before throwing you a large black shirt. You grasped it mid-air, giggling, as he eyed you with a smile. That was until you spoke up, putting the shirt on, “Is it really okay for me to stay here tonight?” You couldnt help but voice your thoughts before earning a chuckled from the sorcerer himself. “Well I dont mind driving you back home if this makes you uncomfortable.” He paused, sounding serious for once, glancing at his car keys situated on the small wooden table by his bed. “But, we’re not done for the night, aren’t we?” He flashed you a wink, earning a blush from you. His cocky self seemed to back in full throttle. Seeing your reddened face he couldnt help but laugh, putting on a pair of looser grey sweatpants as he spoke “Besides as much as I loved hearing your beautiful moans of my name Id also like for us to share actual conversations-” Throwing a pillow at him, his hand came to arrest it before it hit his face. Seeing your embarrassed look, he broke into laughter, throwing himself back on the bed besides you. “Dont say such embarrassing thing” You poked his side in a teasing manner feeling satisfied with his answer. Gojo grinned letting his head rest in your laps, looking up at you with doe eyes. The night’s soft breeze twirled into the room, your hand caressing Gojo’s hair, twirling a piece between your pointer and middle finger. The neon alarm clock showed in flashy red numbers: 5:06 am. You merely chuckled under your breath, feeling as if this night had been one hell of a rollercoaster. Gojo silently stared at you, feeling relaxed as you played with his hair. “Tired?” He questioned, taking your hand before pressing a soft kiss on your palm, earning yet another blush from you. “Not really” He hummed, kind of amusing you how his cocky persona had subdued into this calmer one. Gojo’s chest rose and fell slowly, as the rhythm of his breathing relaxed, feeling comfortable in your embrace. Still holding unto your hand, he gave it a light squeeze, gaining back your attention “So, since it's already morning” He paused, throwing a glance toward the alarm clock,” Wanna order some food and talk the night away my sweet Y/N?”

⭑  ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

back to masterlist? 

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (10)

word count; 16,174

summary; a suspicious call has disastrous consequences.

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

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

“You sure the call was here?”

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

“Well, I don’t see a fire.”

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

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

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

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

It just wasn’t your lucky charm.

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

“It’s not my bag!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already feel like I’m overheating.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was all far too unusual.

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

“You think there’s petrol in there?”

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

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

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

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

“This feels weird to you, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you count how many?”

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

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

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

“Everyone on top is clear.”

“Me and Chuck are good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Any pain you should be honest about?”

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

“I’m not?”

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

“I can do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here! What can I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thomas?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are we doing over here?”

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

“Barely.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you gonna’ be my sous-chef?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t know it was even there.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Me next?”

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

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

“You are so melodramatic.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you should kiss it better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell happened?”

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

“Do something!”

“What’s happening?”

“Is he having a seizure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t stop after that.

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

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

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

Then, came Chuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out, Thomas.”

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

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

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

You gave in.

You only had so much fight to give.

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

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

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

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

“Thomas, I’m not in the mood fo-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sweetheart..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll go and wait outside, alright?”

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

“You’d be cute, y’know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How the hell would you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you?”

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

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

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

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

“What was that for?”

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

“I was kissing you better.”

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

Just A Few Small Things

Part 2/2

Greta Van Fleet witch au

Rating: none

Warnings: swearing, minor violence

Summary: the boys are gonna get those ingrediants if it kills them

Notes: id suggest listening to Stardust Chords during the fighting bits cause thats what i listened to while writing them lol. Plus sorry for any misspelling, i didnt proof read this :/

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jake runs full speed into the darkness of the ally after the dark figure. He realizes he cant see where he's going when he runs face first into a stack of crates. "Fuck!" He yells as he falls back from the inpact. Sam runs up next to him and stops when he reaches his brother, panting and hands on his knees. Sam offers Jake a hand and helps him up. "Whatever... it was a dumb idea anyways" Jake says sadly. He feels defeated. He cant even hear the figure anymore, let alone see them. "No" Sam said. Suddenly he was determined. Not even to enchant their instruments which was what the waterroot was for, but to make Jake happy. He was so excited about this idea and how good it would be for them. Hes not about to just sit around and let that go to waste. Sam claps his hands together and produces a bright light from his palms and starts running into the ally further. Jake follows him but looks unsure. They run and run until they finally catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure. They run out of the ally at the other end. When Jake and Sam get to the end they see it leads to the woods. "Its not worth it, lets just turn baAACK-" Jake attempts to get out but fails before Sam grabs his hand and runs in after the person. They finally get to a spot in the woods wear they hear the fugure stop and they turn to face the two. "You're really desperate for a little waterroot, arent you?" They say. Then they hear a loud owl screech and feel a heavy gust of wind, accompanied by an extremely large shadow pass overhead.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

With Danny leading the way, he and Josh run full speed and blind to escape the giant kipine that was chasing them, which, if you dont remember from last time, is a huge scary monster with a lean bear like body, an owl head, bird legs, and leather wings. With only Danny's lantern and Josh's light spell lighting their way and little to no clue where they were or where they were going, needless to say they were fucked. Josh, being the first one to take action in the situation, stopped in his tracks and ended his light spell with something much more useful. fireball. A huge, bright, hot and very loud burst of fire shoots out of Josh's frankly small form and hits the bird making it screech, it didnt do much harm and made it angry, but it perked its head up like it heard something new and began to fly overhead, now ignoring the two. Josh took a second to fix his bandana amd noticed danny looked like he was questioning something. "What now? Lets just go home" Josh wines. "... i think we should follow it" Danny replies. Josh takes a beat and grumbly makes his way in the direction of the very thing they where trying to escape seconds ago. "Remind me never to go scavenging woth you again" Josh complains.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jake, Sam, and the anonymous person stop in their tracks, no longer interested in each other but now interested in what the fuck just happened. They all look up to behold the exact thing Danny and Josh had just barely survived a moment ago. It lands and screeches. Jake and Sam duck and cover their ears. The theif they had chased out here ran off. The kipine looked interested in chasing them but remembered the two attempting to hide. Jake stays in that position hoping if he doesn't move it wont see him. Sam gets up and quickly lundges himself towards some large rocks and attemps throwing them at the kipine, but has noodle arms so its not doing much. Sam hears footsteps on the ledge above him and looks up to see Josh and Danny. He was shocked but delighted they now had more help. Josh sees Jake and without any hesitation jumps off the ledge to get to him. He lands on two feet but feels a sharp pain run through his right leg. He doesn't let that get in the way though and limps over to his twin who is still hiding. Danny takes the safer way down and meets Sam under the ledge. "Wow you look fucked" Sam says. "Yeah thanks i think we have more important things going on right now" Danny replies being snarky. The kipine screeches again and heads towards the twins. Danny throws the lantern off his staff and plants it firmly to the ground. In the same motion he grabs Sam and holds him to his side as a large gust of wind along with some shakes in the ground amits in a large circle around him. It catches the kipine off balance but also pushes the twins back a few feet. Josh tucks and rolls and Jake gets flung againts a tree. Josh scrambles towards him to make sure hes okay. "Im sorry its my fault we're in this situation i shouldnt have mentioned my dumb idea or asked you guys to help me or we wouldnt be here-" Jake says but Josh cuts him off "this is NOT your fault. Theres no way you could have seen this coming" Josh stands up to cast something but before he can he hears Sam shout "COVER YOUR EARS!" And after giving them time to do so casts sound boom which creates sort of a loud explosion noise. The kipine screeches in pain at the loud suddon noise and seems to realize its not worth it. It flies away into the nightsky hopefully never to be seen again. Danny and Sam run over to the twins to make sure they're all okay. Jake notices Josh's limp and helps him walk. Jake looks like hes about to say something but Josh interrupts him again "no time for blame taking. Lets just go home, Jakey" Jake nods softly and they all start walking. As they're heading back out to the city, Danny notices a little bag on the floor. "Whats that?" He asks. "That would be the waterroot! The theif must've dropped it on their way out!" He grabs it and puts it in his satchel. They tiredly make their way home to heal their wounds and do what they worked so hard to, hopefully to be helpful in another adventure.

Tag list: @theweightofstardust @goodpointsandbadpoints @asthedaysgobythesun @tripthelight-fanfic

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) You Control Me (Even If Its Just Tonight) | Explicit | 1591 words

Louis rides Harry and thinks he's in control.

2) Save a Horse | Explicit | 2400 words

Louis goes to a rodeo with Liam, and gets a lot more than he bargained for. Featuring bull rider Harry, obnoxious t-shirts, and one hell of a night.

3) El Comienzo De Una Vida | Teen & Up | 2779 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This fic is the second part of a series. 

After being bartered to Harry to save his kingdom, Louis is on his way to the Alpha's homeland and he would very much like him to stop being so cautious and just kiss him, god damn it!

4) A Treat For You And A Treat For Me | Explicit | 3416 words

Louis blushed at Harry’s flirty tone. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.” He giggled, half joking. “But thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Not just to get in your pants, baby. I’m being honest. You’re always cute. Are you wearing mascara?” He asked, licking over his lips. Louis in makeup always did something to Harry. He loved it.

Louis nodded, leaning forward. “I am. Do you like it? I’m also wearing some cute Halloween panties under my costume.. if you wanna see them later?” He murmured, letting his lips touch Harry’s lightly before pulling away, a tiny smile on his lips.

Harry’s mouth opened a bit, but no words came out. Instead Louis was lifted up and carried in Harry’s arms, up the stairs. “Later? I wanna see them now.” He whispered into Louis’ ear, hot breath sending shivers down Louis’ body. “Missed you so much since last time.”

5) A Kiss For Then, A Kiss For Now (And A Million More) | Mature | 6073 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This is the sequel to this fic. 

A collection of moments from Petal's life with her mummy, the stinky alpha and their new baby boy.

6) Terror At Our Door | Explicit | 6201 words

A hurt man comes to Harry's home on Halloween, bringing in a world of mystery that Styles didn't want at all.

What a shame that feelings are involved too.

7) Fight Me Breathless | Mature | 7596 words

Louis Tomlinson has no idea why he’s in a London hospital for asthma, but enter Harry Styles, his doctor, who he definitely doesn’t think is hot, and he’s left wondering if asthma is why he can’t seem to breathe properly with his doctor around.

8) This Ain't Red Wine | Explicit | 9054 words

It’s not until he gets a whiff of the contents of his glass that Louis realizes his grave mistake.

That’s not red wine.

It’s blood.

It’s probably not the most rational, but his first thought is what people are going to think when they discover his body. On the list of stupidest ways for a human to die, accidentally turning up to a Vampire party has to be pretty high up there.

9) Colder Weather | Explicit | 15132 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis doesn’t know what comes over him. “Please H-Harry, take me,” Louis looks back at the farmhouse, swallowing once as his skittish eyes fall onto the master bedroom window, “Take me with you, please.”

Harry’s scent flares, the tinged anger so noticeable that Louis draws back out of the alpha’s space.

“Is he hittin’ on you?”

Louis’ right hand rests briefly against the bruise forming rapidly over the right side of his rib cage, the darkness of the night hiding the movement. “No.”

10) Those Who From The Pit Of Hell, Roam To Seek Their Prey On Earth | Explicit | 17636 words

1889. Louis Tomlinson is a student at the prestigious Harrow School for Boys, nurturing his passion for forensic medicine under the care of a particularly mysterious and dark teacher, Harry Styles, who has set his main focus on a series of gruesome murders, all of them reflecting the year 1888, when Jack the Ripper went rampant in the poor streets of Whitechapel.

11) The Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly Home | General Audiances | 19397 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

An omega Louis and an alpha Harry find themselves in a forced marriage that gives Louis the freedom he desires in exchange for Harry being chained up a bit more.

12) Welcome to The Rivalry | Mature | 19671 words

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

13) Welcome to the Bottom of the World | Not Rated | 20859 words

Louis is an American musher/expedition guide, Harry is a scientist from England. They meet in the middle of Antarctica, what could go wrong?

14) Reach The Heavens Own Blue | Explicit | 21070  words

He steps up to the plate, eyes glazing over as he watches Harry chew sunflower seeds, his jaw moving obnoxiously and exaggeratedly. His eyes drag down Harry’s body, settling on his large bulge, accentuated in those sinful pinstripe pants. The lines cut across it just right, curving where he’s thickest. Louis wants to crawl across the dirt on his knees and just take what Harry gives him.

Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, opening them to find Harry staring at him with a smug expression. He fucking knows. Louis gets into position and waits for the pitch. He swings when Harry throws, missing the ball just barely. Strike one.

15) Terror Of Surrender | Explicit | 31566 words

Harry instructs them to step into Crescent Lunge, stopping when he gets to Louis to adjust his hips. “I think you can bend a little more.” He helps Louis deepen the stretch, his hands tight on his hips. “Good boy.”

Louis gasps quietly, his eyes snapping to Harry’s, his heart pounding in his chest. Harry’s eyes drop to his lips, his hands smoothing down Louis’ stretched thighs, then he’s turning and walking to the front of the class.

16) Eyes Off You | Explicit | 39396 words

A Charlie’s Angels inspired fic where Louis is the brains, Harry is the charm, Liam is the muscle, and Niall drives the getaway car - and Zayn is there, too. sometimes.

17) Puncture | Mature | 43383 words

Note; This fic has mentions of BH.

An alternate universe where Harry bites Louis and hates the taste of his blood but is still obsessed with him anyway.

18) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

19) Just A Flicker In The Dark | Explicit | 57191 words

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

20) Wild Thing | Mature | 65962 words

Harry doesn’t think love is for him, until Louis shows him just how wild love is.

21) Three Days in February | Explicit | 187642 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[rhysismydaddy]

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :) 

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down. 

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life. 

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold. 

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.  

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home. 

This was home now. 

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include). 

And she was her. 

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet. 

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word.  No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead. 

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie. 

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course. 

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster... 

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying. 

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath. 

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach. 

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath. 

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage. 

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second. 

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks. 

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him. 

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it. 

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man. 

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. 

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it. 

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words. 

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted. 

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser. 

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.” 

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up. 

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake. 

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub. 

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head. 

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet... 

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer. 

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely. 

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her. 

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life. 

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks. 

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year. 

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night. 

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.” 

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired. 

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. 

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first. 

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska. 

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system. 

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood. 

It wasn’t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him. 

But orders were orders. 

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed. 

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her. 

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open. 

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean. 

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work. 

~

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather. 

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great. 

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of. 

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it. 

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right. 

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here. 

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door. 

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window. 

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here. 

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake. 

There was no way she lived here. 

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around. 

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron. 

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.” 

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun. 

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame. 

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself. 

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing. 

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken. 

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap. 

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded. 

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently. 

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner. 

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.  

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier. 

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing. 

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach. 

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her. 

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back. 

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door. 

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful. 

But why? 

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out. 

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

@sjm-things​ @santas-dwynwen​ @thebitchupstairs​ @sayosdreams​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[brelione]

Please Dont Break My Heart Pt.1 (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Not proof read,pretty much trash.

JJ would be lying if he said that he didnt have a thing for you.You were known pretty well as both a heartbreaker and a sweetheart.Neither of those really made sense,it was like trying to mix water and olive oil.It just couldnt happen.You were a kook but werent considered one of the bad ones that would stare in disgust at every pogue they saw.

You were actually known to be quite friendly with pogues,even dating a handful of them.You’d date someone for three months and then drop their asses with no explanation why.It was like clockwork.It seemed like you got bored easily,hopping from one boy to the next.

There was pretty much a line of boys,both kooks and pogues ready to shoot their shot,be yours for three months and then get their hearts broken.Unfortunately JJ could relate,wishing that you’d come up to him one day with that well known smile,shining eyes asking him to hang out sometime.He would consider himself lucky to even be so close to you,to hold your hand and touch your hair whenever he pleased.

Even if it only lasted three months and you were using him he wouldnt even care.He didnt even know why he wanted you so much or what he liked about you.He sat by a fire,Kiara and Pope within his view as he spoke to your most recent ex,a blonde boy named Dylan.He was sniffling,not understanding why you had left him.

John.B say next to JJ,interested in the conversation that was currently about you. “So what’s she like?Is she rude or like...I dunno.”JJ shrugged,trying to form his questions into actual words.Dylan huffed,staring into the flames. “No,man.She’s nice as hell and she’s funny and she dances around her living room and she likes to surf and bake and-and oh god I fucking miss her.”Dylan sobbed,wiping his tears.

JJ had heard the same story from eight guys,that you were sweet and genuine and how they thought they were different from the others until you broke them too.JJ felt bad for them of course but more than anything he wanted to know the reason for your constant heartbreaking and manipulating.He felt even worse because he wanted you to manipulate him.

He tried to listen to Dylan talk,zoning out eventually.Technically he was in the line of guys that were ready to have their heart broken and you probably knew that.That meant that he could be the next boy to be yours.It was wrong of him to think that way and he knew that.He had watched this pattern for two years now,waiting for his turn patiently and never daring to interfere but beginning to think about what would happen this time.He wanted this to be the best summer ever,to have a good time all the time.You could most definitely make this the best summer ever which meant that he needed to be number one in your line.

It had been a week since you broke Dylan’s heart.He was good to you,never yelled at you or treated you wrong.He let you take his hoodies and gave you forehead kisses and piggy back rides down the beach.You were his lockscreen and he was yours,doing whatever you wanted whenever you wanted,including braiding your hair for you and going for swims in your pool at three in the morning.

But he was getting too close to you and deep down you knew that nobody could be that perfect.You didnt want to hurt anyone which was why you let go of them so quickly and so easily,you’d hurt them more if you let them stick around.You didnt even know what your type was or if you even had one,you just needed something different.

You were definitely known for breaking peoples hearts which was definitely not a good reputation to have but it was better than being a drug dealer or a crackhead,both of which had been interested in you at one point.You wanted someone that was more like you,impulsive,excited,ready to try new things and have deep conversations at four in the morning.

You knew that none of the boys were really like that and you knew that they would just act like that in hopes of getting you to like them.There was only one boy that you could think of that fit what you wanted without pretending.That one boy was JJ Maybank.

You were nervous as hell to even look in his direction,knowing that he was probably disgusted by the thought of a rich,heartbreaking kook and wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.You had been single for a week,trying to figure out what to do about JJ.You didnt want to be with him and then leave him,you admired him far too much for that.

But you knew that you wanted to be with him.Kooks and Pogues would stare at you,drool practically falling from their lips as you walked by,waiting to see what you would do next.You sighed,scrolling through your phone,deciding to delete your photos of Dylan,pouting as you did so.You just had to hope that he was over by now,you had let him down gently anyways.

You got up off your bed,deciding to leave the house for the first time in three days,pulling on a black one piece bathing suit,a tshirt and shorts over it.It was 11 AM which meant the beaches wouldnt be crowded yet but luckily you knew your way around The Cut.That included the small rocky beaches that Dylan had shown you during a surfing trip to watch the sunset.

You got into your car,your surfboard already tied to the roof.You stopped at a Dunkin Donuts drive thru to grab a large iced coffee on the way,listening to your playlist as you drove to The Cut.You remembered Dylan taking you down a dirt road that was supposed to be covered in cement but never ended up happening.

You pulled onto the side of the road with a sigh,putting your phone in your backpack that contained a towel and a bag of m and m’s,swinging it over your shoulder and standing on your tip toes so you could pull your surfboard off the top,carrying it by your side as you walked down the dirt hills,coming out at the rocky surfing spot that was well hidden by trees.

JJ shocked himself when he woke up before noon,the others still asleep.He had sighed,debating on getting up or going back to sleep.He wasnt sure what made him want to go to the hidden surfing spot that was a good ten minute walk from John.B’s.He didnt know why he wanted to wiggle his toes in the small,smooth pebbles so badly.

He was already in his bathing suit from the night before,getting up and ditching the idea of surfing,just wanting to swim for a bit.His converse smacked off the dirt,trying his best not to slip and fall on his way down the hill,holding onto the trees for balance before landing onto the pebbles,eyebrows furrowing when he noticed another person was already here.He froze up when he realized it was you,laying on top of your surfboard that rested on the pebbles,arms crossed and eyes closed,not caring about the world.

He considered turning around and running away,grinning when he noticed you werent here with a boy.THat meant that you were still single and nobody was ready to pounce on him if he attempted to talk to you.Your head turned to look at him,scared for a moment when you thought he was Dylan. “JJ?”You asked curiously,sitting up to look at him at a proper angle.

He cussed,realizing it was too late to turn around now that you saw him.He grinned,walking towards you,looking down. “Yeah.”He answered,trying really hard not to grin,trying not to blush or back away out of embarrassment. “Hi.”You answered,staring up at him,not knowing what to say or do. “Hi.”He replied,sitting down on the pebbles across from you.

 “So like,what are you doing here?”He asked,trying to make conversation.He was probably the biggest flirt on the island and you were fantastic as manipulating and charming people.Why was this so hard? “I dont know,it’s just a nice day and I thought i’d surf but the waves suck today.”You shrugged,looking out at the calm,glittery water.He nodded,agreeing. “Yeah.You ever surf during a storm?”He asked,tugging at the hem of his shirt.

You grinned,nodding. “Yeah,I tried that once or twice.I wiped out and like,almost died so that sucks for me.The waves were pretty good though,not gonna lie.”You answered,remembering that adventure from a month back.Dylan was so worried the whole time,watching from the beach as you disappeared under the waves,coming back up a few moments later to gasp for air. 

“Yeah,same thing happened to me last year.I scraped my whole leg.”He admitted,trying his best not to stare at you.You turned on your surfboard,grabbing your coffee and taking a sip of it.He peeled at his fingernails,considering getting up and going into the water. “Was it worth it?”You asked,making him smile. “Um,yeah id say so.”He replied,his face becoming red. 

“I probably should’ve checked the weather before I left the house,its a really shitty day.I mean,before you got here obviously.”You took another sip of coffee,mixing the sugar at the bottom.He was a blushing mess,fighting the temptation to hide his face in his hands. “So um...where’s Dylan?”He asked,wanting to see how you’d react.You let out a sigh,biting the inside of your cheek. “It just wasnt meant to be,you know?”You asked,dissapointed when you realized he was probably just trying to get in your pants.

He nodded,understanding. “Yeah,I get that.How do you know when somethings meant to be?”He asked,slowly becoming more comfortable with you.You shrugged,not even knowing the answer.You had loved people before,you had loved all the people you had dated.You just werent in love with any of them.It just never felt right which definitely scared you.SOmetimes you wondered if you ever would love anyone like that. 

“I dont even know,dude.”You admitted,standing up on your surfboard,hopping onto the pebbles,taking off your shirt and shorts,feeling JJ’s eyes glued to you as you bent over to put your clothes into your bag. “But I do know that it’s hot as fuck out here and that water looks nice so im going to go drown.”You grinned before walking down to the water,going up to your hips,letting out a sigh of relief when your burning heels hit the cool water.

JJ admired you from a far,covering his face with his hands when your back was turned to him,grinning like a fucking idiot.He finally decided to get up and join you,pulling off his tank top and hat,dragging his feet through the cold water,standing next to you,glancing over at you every couple of minutes,trying to figure out what you were staring at that you found so interesting.

 “What are we looking at?”He asked,not seeing anything.You shrugged,wiggling your toes in the sand. “I dont know,just the clouds I guess.”You answered,looking up at him.He licked his lips,just watching you.He had never been physically close to you for longer than a minute or two even if he felt some sort of emotional connection to you since the moment he saw you.

It was a Saturday night at the beginning of June.A boneyard party was taking place,loud music,shitty beer,heated make out sessions and random games of truth or dare.Everyone was having a good time,doing whatever they pleased and getting absolutely fucking wasted.

JJ had been sipping a cup of beer,trying to listen to Pope when he heard laughter,turning to see where it was coming from.You were on Dylan’s back,your legs around his waist,arms wrapped around his shoulders,afraid you’d fall off.JJ couldnt take his eyes off of you the whole night,watching as you sat on Dylan’s lap,the boy leaving small kisses on your neck,forehead and cheeks.

It made JJ’s heart hurt,wishing it were him.On the other hand he almost wanted to yell at Dylan and call him an itiot for thinking he was different than your ex’s while another part of him wanted to yell at Dylan and try to figure out what made him so special that you spent so much time around him.JJ’s jaw clenched when he watched you kiss Dylan,wishing it were him that you were kissing.When you left the party you were wearing Dylan’s sweatshirt,holding the boys hand and probably going back to your place.

“How’d you find this place?It’s pretty well hidden.”He looked back at the empty beach,trying to figure out if you had walked because he hadnt seen your car.You looked down into the clear water,trying to figure out how far you’d be able to go without slipping under the water. 

“Uhh….Dylan showed it to me.”You replied,not wanting to make things too awkward.He nodded,not pushing any further. “I feel like Dylan didnt deserve you not gonna lie.”He admitted.Sure,he had spoken to Dylan before and thought he was an okay guy.He wasnt an asshole but he just wasnt worthy of you in JJ’s eyes.

You giggled quietly at the statement,shaking your head. “You barely know me,JJ.How do you know what I deserve?”You asked,genuinely curious for his answer.He pouted,eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “Alright,here’s what ive learned about you in like,the last fifteen minutes.”He began,a small smile on his face.You nodded,waiting for him to continue.

 “So,you like dunkin donuts,you like going on adventures for the experience and you dont really worry about consequences,you like to relax most of the time and I really want to get to know more about you.”He watched your puzzled expression,a nervous grin on his face. “You want to know more about me?How would you do that?”You asked,enjoying how nervous you could make him.

He glanced down to your lips,licking his own. “You know...a date.”He mumbled,chewing on his bottom lip. “You want to go on a date?What makes you worthy of that?”You teased,using his words against him.He rolled his eyes,looking down into the water. “I mean...I dunno,you’ll have to find out for yourself.Do you want to maybe go night swimming or something later tonight?I know a spot.”He offered,remembering the small waterfall that he had gone to with John.B and Pope last year.

You thought about it.JJ seemed sweet from what you knew but it would still be weird to go to a hidden area alone at night with someone you just met.But then again if things went south you could just kick him right in the dick. “Sounds like a date,Maybank.Just come by my house whenever,i’ll drive.”You told him,deciding that you should just leave.

There were no waves to surf or much to do so it would probably be wise to go back to your house and do your laundry and take a shower.His heart thumped in his chest,feeling a bit light headed at the thought of being yours.THere was no way this was real,he thought as he watched you walk from the water,swinging your backpack over your shoulder,getting your shoes on,holding your board and disappearing into the trees and out of his view.

He had rushed back to John.B’s,looking through every single shirt and every single pair of shorts that he had there,trying to find a good combination.He couldnt wait for John.B to wake up,shaking him by the shoulders until he was swatting the blonde’s hands away.

 “What?”He asked,sitting up in his bed. “Its my turn!”JJ exclaimed,not helping with the confusion. “What?”John.B asked again,making JJ sigh. “God,keep up!Its my turn to be hers!”JJ was far too excited for his tired friend,the words sounding like static. “Who?”John.B asked,not thinking.JJ rolled his eyes,grabbing his friend by the arm and into the guest room-JJ’s room.

 “Which outfit should I wear?”JJ asked,gesturing tot eh outfits he had laid out on the bed.He had waited over a year for this night,he shouldve prepared an outfit the moment he heard that you and Dylan had broken up. “I dont fuckin know.I dont know what girls are into.”John.B yawned,JJ’s eyes widened as he realised the problem,running into the living room to shake Kie back and forth.

 “What?”She grumbled,too tired to open her eyes. “God,fuck.”JJ cursed,throwing the girl over his shoulder and bringing her into the room,her shouts becoming annoying when he finally set her down. “Which one?”He asked,looking at the outfits.

 “For what?”She asked,looking down at the clothes. “Dammit!Im going on a date tonight and I cant mess this up.”He sighed,tugging at his hair.  “A date with who?”Kiara asked,not quite understanding.JJ wasnt the type to go on dates.What had changed? “(Y/N).”JJ answered,making Kiara’s heart drop. “Are you kidding?Come on,JJ.You know whats going to happen!”She exclaimed,her words changing nothing.

 “Does it really matter?”He asked,really just wanting to know what outfit to wear.Kiara smacked his arm,clearly mad. “Shes going to break you like she does to everyone!Why her out of all people?Cant you find a girl who’s not a play?You guys are just going to play eachother and hurt everyone!”She exclaimed,John.B nodding in agreement. “Oh,vomit!”JJ exclaimed,making the decision for himself,folding the clothes carefully and placing them on the bed.

 “Im serious,JJ!She’s gonna pretend to love you and then you’re gonna fall in love and then shes gonna break you and come running to us!”Kiara shouted,sighing loudly.JJ simply rolled his eyes,kicking his two friends out,deciding he no longer needed their opinions.He tried on the outfit,jean shorts and a gray kildare t shirt,figuring he could wear his red hat with it.

He was far too nervous for tonight.He had heard about you going on a date once only for it to go nowhere,never seeing the boy again.The boy was Max,a seventeen year old brunette that went to boneyard parties and had dropped out of highschool during junior year.JJ let his curiosity get the best of him,asking about it. “So how’d it go?”JJ had asked,sipping his beer.

Max sighed,shrugging his shoulders. “I think I was too nervous the whole time,she just wasnt really into me.She kissed me though so I think it was worth it.”Max grinned at the memory.JJ found himself thinking about you later that night as he always did,thinking differently this time.

He wanted to know what your kisses would feel like,if they were gentle or rough and where you would put your hands.He saw you kiss Dylan before,your hands in the pockets of the boys’ shorts or in his hair.JJ had imagined what that would feel like,even attempting to lucid dream but everyone knows he isnt patient enough for shit like that.

Night time came way too quick.He had showered,trying to make his hair nice for you even if he was going to place a hat on top of it anyways.His hands were gripping onto the bathroom sink tight,breathing in and out slowly,trying to remain calm before getting dressed,putting on all of his rings.

He knew where your house was.It was one of the biggest houses on the island and the driveway was painted with clouds,rainbows and mermaids so it was easy to find.He ran down the dark streets,hoping nobody would call the cops on him.He walked up your colorful driveway,stopping when lights came on across the front yard.

He didnt know what set them off,wondering if your parents knew he was coming.THe door opened,revealing you in a yellow dress,the material only going halfway down your thighs,a leather jacket hanging off of you,black and yellow vans to match.

He felt his face go red,biting his lip. “You look really-um you look really pretty.”He chuckled,feeling embarrassed.You grinned,opening the garage by typing the pin into the key pad,your black car sitting there and waiting patiently for you. “Where are we going?”You asked,taking out your keys,about to get in when he stopped you. 

“Can I drive?”He asked,giving you puppy dog eyes.You sighed,holding your keys tight,eventually giving in. “If you crash my car I will kill you.”You warned him,getting in the passengers seat that you hadnt sat in in forever.He got in,almost laughing.He had never been in such an expensive car before,pulling out of the garage,the door closing behind him. 

“Seriously though,if we crash I will kill you.”You spoke seriously,making him smile. “I know,princess.”He replied,beginning the drive down the smooth road,hitting bumps once the tires rolled into The Cut.Somehow you ended up holding his hand,your thumb resting on one of his veins,the coolness of the metal rings made a slight shiver go up your spine.

He tried so hard not to squeal,imagining this for nearly two years.He rubbed the back of your hand lightly with his thumb,trying his best to remain as calm as possible,pulling over in the familiar area. “It’s right down here.”He told you,squeezing your hand lightly before letting go.

THe two of you got out of the car,your heart beat quickening as you followed him through the woods,using a flashlight that he had brought.You could hear the waterfall,glad it wasnt too far away.THe two of you emerged from the trees and into a clearing,a slow moving rive right in front of you,a small waterfall to your right.He was focused on you,watching as you took it all in,the area being lit up by the little bit of moonlight.

You took off your jacket,unzipping the dress to reveal a white bikini underneath,placing them on top of your bag so they wouldnt get wet or dirty.He smiled,tugging off his shorts and t shirt,walking into the cold shallow water,knowing where the deep parts were.

You came in soon after,deciding to just sit in the shallow water while he jumped off the rocks and into the deep,coming up to the surface with his hair soaked and fallen into his face.He wiped it away,coming to sit next to you,admiring the waterfall. “So…”He tried to start a conversation,not quite knowing what to say.You smiled,looking over at him. 

“What?”You asked,your voice soft and smooth as you spoke.He leaned back in the water,not quite laying down. “So whats up with you?”He asked,reaching for your hand,smiling when you let him intertwine his fingers with yours. “In what way?”You asked,curious as to what he meant. “I mean you’re like,the Queen of the kooks yet you date pogues and hang around The Cut.Why?”He asked,his heels digging into the pebble below him.

You shrugged. “I mean,kooks aren't really impressive.They’re all the same,you guys have actual personalities.”You laughed,hoping he wouldnt ask the question you dreaded most.He nodded in agreement,sitting up properly.The light crashing of the water wasnt really noticeable anymore,he was too focus on the conversation.

 “I want you to tell me everything I should know about you within the next minute.Go!”He exclaimed,watching as you tried to think,surprised. “Um...um okay,my favorite color is (Y/F/C),I hate strawberry jelly,I have a dog named Hugo and hes literally the love of my life...I have slight caffeine addiction,I dont know.”You laughed,not ever thinking about this before.He nodded,urging you to keep going.

 “Uhh...my favorite show is Stranger Things,my favorite movie is The Outsiders because Dally,obviously...umm I still believe in mermaids and i’ve always wanted to build a castle.”You hoped that was enough,glad when he smiled.

 “You still believe in mermaids?”He asked,a goofy smile on his face. “Shut up,Maybank.This isnt fair,you have to tell me about you now.”You turned on your side,facing him completely.He looked shocked,not thinking that you would turn the question back on him. “You have a minute-starting now.”You announced,his thoughts moving to fast for his mouth to keep up.

 “Okay,ummm...uhhh….I’ve always wanted to live in Yucatan,my favorite color is blue...I dont have a favorite TV show...I like the Harry Potter movies but i’ve never read the books...growing up I always had a huge crush on Hermione and I believed in Santa Claus until I was twelve.I hate butterflies,I dont really like coffee because energy drinks are better and I go by JJ because I hate my actual name.”He finished,biting his lip.

You hummed,reflecting on what he just said. “Im a simp for Draco Malfoy.”You admitted,hearing him chuckle. “So you have a thing for blondes?”He asked,a cocky smirk on his face.You shushed him,rolling your eyes. “I mean,i’ve got a thing for gorgeous girls so I guess it works out.”He winked at you,a sly smirk on his face.

You felt your cheeks get hot,glancing away from him.He thought about what he was about to do for a whole two seconds,considering how it could effect his future with you. “(Y/N).”he mumbled,making you turn back to him.He waited a moment and a half before leaning in,pecking your lips lightly and pulling away,understanding why Max had spoke so fondly of the memory.

You bit your lip,pulling him into another kiss,your warm hand going into his wet hair,tugging at the slightly wavy locks.He smiled into the kiss,his hands ending up on your waist,trying to take in every detail of the moment that he knew would end soon.When you pulled away your hand remained in his hair,twirling it between your thumb and pointer finger.

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[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part six

I keep forgetting to post this story OOPS

Warnings: panic, general self-deprecating thoughts, unrequited love thoughts, maybe slightly ooc!Tony, I think that’s all

Sam, Steve, and who you learn to be T’Challa, now King of Wakanda after his father died in the bombing at Vienna -- which makes his obsession with clawing Bucky’s eyes out make much more sense -- are shoved in a vehicle alongside you.

You have no idea what they did with Bucky -- other than he’s still alive -- and you have no fucking clue where you’re going, but the ride is long. Too long to be in a car with Sam and Steve, especially with Sam trying every second he can to get on T’Challa’s nerves.

“So you like cats?”

“Shut up, Sam, please, for once in your life,” you groan from your spot next to him.

Even Steve gives him a look.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asks.

“Your suit…” Steve narrows his eyes. “It’s vibranium?”

“What is that?”

You don’t get an answer.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of King. So, I ask you, as both King and warrior,” T’Challa pauses. “How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

The silence is deafening.

“It wasn’t him,” you blurt, earning yourself a glare. “Laugh at me all you want, but it wasn’t Bucky that killed your father. Don’t get revenge on the wrong man.”

T’Challa turns to face forward, refusing to say another word.

You do the same, instead focusing on what Bucky is feeling. You wonder if he can feel just how pissed off and panicked you are. You’re pissed, of course, because all of this fighting wasn’t necessary. You jumped off buildings for that man, and he still insists that he doesn’t know you.

Maybe you’d be able to write it off as a dreadful miscommunication for the past decade of your life, but you can’t. Not when you can physically feel that he is lying. The tightness in his chest doesn’t lie. Neither do his eyes.

But God, you wish they could.

You turn your head to hide your quivering lip. The last thing you need is to break into a sobbing mess in the back of this vehicle with three men surrounding you — especially when one of them was just trying to kill the same soulmate you’re upset over.

You know it’s not true, but part of you does wish Bucky was dead.

It was a lot easier on you to fantasize and dream about him when you thought he was dead.

+++

The government facility in Berlin looks far more secure than anything you’ve ever seen. Having guards posted all around when the four of you step out of the vehicle almost seems like overkill. They already took your weapons, what are they expecting any of you to do?

You glance over your shoulder to see Bucky in a small container. Your heart breaks at the sight of him, being restrained and in such a tight space. But the fact that he won’t even look your way breaks your heart even more.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asks, having the courage to voice what you want to know.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you,” the man replies. He’s short and wears a gray suit. It’s hard for you to take him seriously as an authority figure when it looks like his pants need to be hemmed. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

You cross your arms over your chest, keeping your mouth shut. Sharon stands next to the man, but at least she looks like she’s on your side — or Steve’s, since she obviously has a thing for him.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander—” Sharon begins introducing him, but you stop her.

“A guy too big to introduce himself?” You raise an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Everett barely smiles, but it isn’t friendly. “Yeah, uh, who the hell are you?” It’s taunting, but you’re too exhausted to give in.

“No one,” you wave your hand, letting Steve keep going.

“What about a lawyer?”

Everett finds that about as amusing as your sentence. “A lawyer, that’s funny.” He turns to address Sharon. “See that their weapons are placed in lockup.” Then turning to the four of you, he says, “We’ll write you a receipt.”

As if on cue, men pass by holding Steve’s shield and uniform, Sam’s wings, and your gun and bullet proof vest. You had almost gotten away with the vest, but once they felt it, they wanted it off -- probably afraid it had some explosive inside it. So, now you’re without your protection, and you miss the weight of the vest. Something about it soothed the ache inside you.

Sam looks ready to burst at the seams. “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”

You’re ushered forward by some guards and you go without resisting. You see Steve take one more look at Bucky, but you don’t bother. No sense in looking at someone who doesn’t want to see you, anyway.

Everett walks ahead, leading the way across a glass bridge to the other side of the facility. “You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell.”

“How kind,” you snort.

He ignores your comment. “Do me a favor: stay in it.”

You roll your eyes. What does he expect you guys to do? Start a fight when the ratio of unarmed super-soldier to heavily armed guards is about 1 to 1,000 in here?

Natasha joins the group, giving you a particularly cold stare before talking to Steve. “For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.”

You manage a chuckle. She has a point, after all.

“He’s alive,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

Yeah, you think. A lot of good that’s doing to everyone.

By the time you reach the other side of the bridge, you’re ready to ask T’Challa to claw your eyes out instead. You won’t even put up a fight. You’re just tired of holding these tears back and feeling this burning pressure in your chest. You don’t know if it’s yours or Bucky’s emotions at this point, all you know is that you want to be left alone.  

The weight of it all is crushing down on you now that there aren’t guns firing at you.

He doesn’t want you.

Your soulmate doesn’t want you.

Fuck.

You wipe a stray tear away, spotting Tony Stark up ahead. Tony seeing you cry is not something you ever want to happen, so you chew on the inside of your cheek instead, hoping you can slip past him quick enough that he won’t notice.

But, of course, that’s too much to ask for when you’ve got Sam and Steve next to you. And when the three of you are now criminals.

“Colonel Rhodes is supervising clean up,” Tony says to someone on the phone. But, because he’s Tony, he has to glare at the three of you while he says it. “Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it, anything else? Thank you sir.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. Here we go.

“Consequences?” Steve inquires, very obviously not giving a damn from the sounds of his tone.

“Secretary Ross wants you prosecuted,” Tony pauses, looking pointedly at you. “All of you.”

You glare at him. “I wasn’t expecting to be an exception, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Tony replies, always having to have the upper hand. “What I was thinking, is that when I paid for you to have top of the line combat training, I didn’t mean for you to use it on something like this.”

“For God’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring Steve and Sam’s bewildered stares. You should’ve known he’d use this moment to blast your secret to everyone.

Your training is something you kept under wraps because naturally, if someone knows you’re going to be a challenge, they normally take it. You wanted to be as off the grid and as normal appearing as you could, so you quietly trained while loudly posting about your degree and only your degree. No pictures with Sam or Steve in them when they’d come to visit. Just you or your best friend, nothing more. You wanted to appear as though you were staying out of the way of any and all affairs that could deal with The Winter Soldier. You knew you’d be left alone if you acted as if you didn’t care. You even went on random dates and posted about them. You slipped under everyone’s radar just like you wanted.

“I’m not doing this right now,” you push past Tony in search of an empty office.

“No, I think we are doing this now,” Tony pulls you back by your arm, which you wrench out of his grip immediately. “I paid for those classes so you could defend yourself, and now you’re a criminal. How do you think that makes me look?”

“I don’t know. Grab a goddamn mirror. It’ll tell you.”

Your sarcasm only fuels his anger. “Listen to me—”

“No, okay?” Your voice cracks and you hate it. You hate the way Steve has been looking at you, like you’re about to break into a million pieces right on the floor in front of everyone. You hate that Tony thinks he can just lecture you about something he has no fucking clue about how it feels. You hate that Bucky doesn’t want you and you hate that he’s in a tiny box right now and that if you never would’ve met Steve two years ago then you wouldn’t be hurting like this right now.

Tony stares quietly at you, waiting for you to finish.

So, with as much strength as you can gather, you finish. “I’ve just jumped off buildings and almost taken bullets for my soulmate who does not even want me.” You pause to let it sink in. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d really love to go cry my eyes out for thirty minutes. You can lecture me after.”

Tony’s face falls and pales a little even, but you’re too exhausted to notice.

By some stroke of bad luck, Everett Ross happens to overhear your words. His dumbfounded expression comes into view and it takes all of your leftover energy to not deck him right in the jaw.

“Did I just hear you say that you’re his soulmate?”

“No,” you snap. “Because he doesn’t know me and doesn’t want to talk to me. So, sorry, you won’t get to weaponize me today. Now, do you have an office I can cry in? Or do I need to go find it myself?”

Stunned, Everett flounders for a response. “Uh, you can just pick an empty one.”

“Great,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes on the ground as you finally escape from everyone around you.

The office is glass, so it isn’t like you’re getting much privacy at all, but it’s enough. You take the farthest one, turning to face the wall so no one else has to see your pathetic tears as they stream down your face.

Saying it out loud made it real.

Bucky doesn’t want you. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t care what you feel. He doesn’t care that you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t want any part of any of it.

Your chest feels like it might rip itself open just for your heart to escape, and part of you wishes it could. You wish you could be without your heart and this soulmate business just for one day.

All those years. Thinking he’d want you.

The past two years. Rehearsing how to talk to him. How to make it work because you weren’t foolish enough to think it’d be easy. You knew it would be hard, that he’d be troubled with his own issues. But you never thought about the possibility of him straight-up rejecting you.

All of it. For nothing. For a soulmate who insists he doesn’t know you.

You try to muffle your choked sob as best you can, but you fail, the noise only causing more tears to fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was brainwashed by HYDRA and you were stupid enough to hope that he’d want you in his life, that he’d remember you.

Maybe he doesn’t remember you. Maybe when they did something to his mind, it erased all of you.

But he remembers Steve, you remind yourself, and the hurt takes over once more.

You turn and press your back to the glass, shutting your eyes so you won’t see if anyone is watching you. You know how absurd you must look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want you. What does any of it matter anymore?

You slide down to the floor, burying your face in your knees. God, it hurts. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and you want it to stop. You wish you never went to that damn exhibit with your best friend. You wish you never knew about Bucky. Living in blissful ignorance was painful, but at least you had peace alongside the pain.

At least that image of your soulmate wanted you.

+++

Back outside, Everett watches your shaking form with a newfound worry. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Tony hangs his head. “Do you need me for anything?”

Everett glances at his watch. “No, actually I’ve got things to get to.” He disappears without another word.

Tony thinks it over, wondering if he should even go check on you. You’re like a daughter to him, though he’ll never admit that to you, and you’d never suspect it. The two of you hardly speak. You were surprised when he reached out about your protection. Steve had apparently mentioned you, and Tony being Tony, knew he had the money to make you feel safe.

And he did. The classes helped. Keeping everything about you, except what you wanted people to see -- that you were an Honors student, a well-supported, intelligent young woman -- a secret helped.

The two of you bicker. You argued when you first met. Tony wanted to pay for extra security, personal security that would follow you around. He wanted to move you from the college apartments to some fancier complex where he could control the security protocols. You turned him down, asked about classes. He compromised. But not without some off-handed, pissed-off remark, that you promptly replied to with, “Fuck off.”

You’re strong, he’ll give you that. Anyone else would’ve denied their feelings, sworn they weren’t the soulmate of the fist of HYDRA. But you embraced it. You knew you couldn’t change it. You knew you would get Bucky back one day -- your Bucky.

But you never would’ve guessed that he would’ve reacted this way. Shielding you from bullets while insisting that he has no idea who the hell you are.

His insistence is what hurt you the most. You had thought when you confessed that you can feel when he’s lying, he would’ve given in. That maybe he needed a confirmation, a reason to believe it was really you, because anyone can lie. Technology -- Stark’s, at least -- has advanced, anyone can look like whoever they want. You thought Bucky needed proof. But that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t care.

Tony watches as you turn around, pressing your back to the glass. Your eyes are closed, face wet with tears and hand pressed over your mouth. You slide to the floor, and that’s the last straw.

You look up when you hear Tony knocking on the glass.

Once you see it’s him, though, you put your head back in your hands. “I said thirty minutes,” you mumble. “I know damn well it’s only been ten.”

“Just shut up and come here.”

You look up again, your expression pained as if he just slapped you. Tony frowns. He’s making it worse when he wants to make it better.

“What do you want?” You ask tiredly, rubbing both hands on your face to wipe the rest of the tears away. You sniffle loudly, grimacing at the noise. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just come here.”

“What do you want?”

“To give you a damn hug,” Tony mutters, invading your personal space by sitting next to you on the floor.

You accept his hug, but only for a few seconds. That’s all you can take.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shrugging him off and scooting a foot away. “Anything that touches me makes me want to punch. I don’t know if it’s him feeling that, or me, but…” You sigh. “Regardless I’d just like for this to be over.”

“You and me both, kiddo,” Tony exhales, leaning his head back against the glass. “Why did you go with Cap and Sam?”

You shrug. “If it was Pepper...wouldn’t you?”

“Pepper wasn’t brainwashed by HYDRA,” Tony says. “And Pepper didn’t assassinate dozens of people.”

“But if she had, if it was Pepper in that box right now, wouldn’t you have done anything? Even if you knew it was a losing battle?”

Tony stays quiet, thinking. “Yeah.” He nods slowly. “I would.” Then he lets out a dry laugh. “I don’t think she’d put me in that position -- I think it’s more likely the other way around.”

You look over at him, frowning.

He sees you looking and sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re taking a break.”

That explains it. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. In her defense, I’m a handful.” Typical Tony. Deflecting his real feelings with humor. “Anyway, I’m sorry, too. Earlier. I shouldn’t have spilled your secrets like that.”

You shrug. “It’s whatever. It’s out there now. I’m sure Everett is thinking of every way he can to somehow get through to Bucky through me.” The mention of your soulmate has tears jumping back into your eyes.

Then a wave of panic rushes over you.

Your eyes shoot open and you scramble to your feet, moving to the farthest corner of the office to get a good look at the screens. Without audio, you can’t tell much, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What wrong?” Tony asks, joining you.

“He’s panicked,” you murmur. “Where’s Steve?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer you before you’re practically running out of the office to find Steve. You find him with Sam and Sharon in another office.

“Steve--” You stop when you hear the audio. It’s Bucky’s voice.

“Where’s Y/N?” He says. You look at the screen, thinking your ears have deceived you, but he says it again. “Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, noticing the look on your face.

“Something’s wrong,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t know what. But he’s panicking. Or maybe it’s me. Something’s wrong.”

About that time, the power goes out.

Literally. Everywhere. Emergency lights coat the room in a soft blue glow, the red of the exits the only other light working in the place.

“Fuck!” You smack the table, looking to Sharon. “Where is he?”

“Sub-level five, East wing,” she answers quickly.

You don’t look to Sam or Steve, you just start running.

The slapping of footsteps behind you is the only indication you have that they’re following you. Tears spring to your eyes as another wave of panic comes over you, nearly choking you this time. Something bad. It’s something bad.

Anger comes next, burning in your chest. What the hell is happening? That psychiatrist -- what’s he doing to your Bucky?

Then you feel it.

It spreads throughout your whole body. The old feeling you had once forgotten. Two years is long enough to get used to Bucky and forget all about The Winter Soldier, but not long enough to not recognize it when it returns.

You push forward, running as fast as you can. You slow once you’re at the correct sub-level, waiting for Sam and Steve. You hold your hands up when they come into view.

Steve comes skidding to a stop. “What?”

“He’s not Bucky right now,” you say quietly, despite the thrumming in your ears. “He’s the Soldier. We have to be careful. I don’t know what happened, but I felt it.”

“Shit,” Steve cusses. “Okay.”

Back on track, the first sign that the Soldier is here is all of the guards lying unconscious on the floor. Inside the room, the psychiatrist sent to evaluate Bucky -- though you’re suspecting he isn’t the psychiatrist -- lies in the middle of the floor, barely conscious.

Steve walks in and drags the man up off of the floor, pinning him to the wall.

You’re right. He’s not who he says he is.

While Steve is handling him, you and Steve step up to the doorway, but you pause, pressing your arm to Sam’s chest.

Shit. He’s in there.

Sam either doesn’t catch your signal or doesn’t want you walking in by yourself, because he ignores you and steps into the room. Regardless, it earns him a punch to the face that he barely dodges.

“Bucky!” You scream, pushing Sam out of the way before Bucky’s metal fist can smash his head in. “Bucky, stop!”

But he doesn’t. He keeps going after Sam, and only stops once he has thrown Sam halfway across the room into the box he was kept in. Sam falls limply to the floor, unconscious.

“Bucky, look at me,” you plead, tears pushing to the front of your eyes, but you blink them away. “You have to come out of this!”

Bucky pushes past you, going after Steve this time. Well, you think. First, he knocks the psychiatrist out cold, but you don’t mind that. What you do mind is when Bucky focuses back on Steve, choking him up against the wall.

You try to pull on his arm, but you know it’s useless. He holds you back, keeping you away from him, but still not hurting you.

You think. Quick. What would help? Why isn’t he hurting you? He’s capable of handling more than one person, and you’re obviously provoking him in some way right now as you claw at his back. But still, he isn’t hurting you. Why?

A long shot of an idea pops into your head.

“Soldier!” You raise your voice, straightening your shoulders, hoping it’ll give you the look of an authority figure. “Soldier. I said stop.”

Steve hits the ground with a thud, coughing loudly.

“Soldier,” you repeat, keeping your voice even. “Look at me.” Slowly, Bucky turns around. He’s still the Soldier, but at least he isn’t trying to kill Steve. “What are your orders?”

“You give them.”

You blink. “What?”

“Orders are to protect you,” the Soldier says. “Keep you safe.”

Your breath hitches. You push away your emotions, thinking instead how you can use his orders to your advantage right now. You don’t exactly like using him this way, but you don’t have any other option when he’s a highly trained and chemically enhanced assassin.

“Steve is a friend.” You pause, nodding to Sam who is slowly coming back to consciousness on the ground. “So is Sam. Do not hurt them. Understand?”

Firmly, Bucky nods.

You look over your shoulder at Steve. “We’ve gotta get him out of here,” you say. “They’ll kill him if they find him like this.” Regardless of the fact that he’s listening to you.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse. He goes over to Sam, pulling him off the ground. He’s disoriented, but awake. “Come on. We gotta go.”

“Okay, Soldier,” you almost wince, hating talking to him like this. “Get us out of here. Can you do that?”

Again, he nods. His flesh arm wraps protectively around your waist, practically picking you up as he begins to walk.

You try your hardest to ignore the effect it has on your body, but you can’t help it. The combination of his strength and this being the most intimate way that he has touched you yet leaves you breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Wait,” you pause, and Bucky stops. “I’ll hold onto your arm,” you say, slipping his arm from around your waist. You grip his bicep, your other hand sliding into his. You hate to be doing this because you know once Bucky remembers, he’ll probably hate you even more for it. But right now, the Soldier won’t walk two inches without some sort of grip on you. “Is this better?”

The Soldier’s bicep flexes underneath your fingers. You swallow thickly. Maybe this was worse.

“As long as you’re safe,” is all he says, before continuing on.

You look back over your shoulder to find Steve watching with a sad smile.

You shove down the swelling sadness in your chest. You know this is the last time you’ll get to hold his hand, or hold onto him like this. But he can’t stay the Soldier forever. He needs to be Bucky again.

Even if Bucky is the one who doesn’t want you.

[officialleehadan]

Daughters Returned

Tilsie, Mila was pleased to note, didn’t let go of his hand as they walked down off the ship. Shaddra stayed close at her sister’s side. She was still nervous, reasonably so, from her adventures, and didn’t like to be too far out of reach.

Tilsie’s childhood home was a grand, flying Keep. It was, to Mila’s generally disinterested eye, decorated fashionably. There were all the usual antiques and antiquities of Empire Nobility. Most of them were things that, when they were originally bought, relatively cheap. Age, of course, made anything valuable, which he knew better than most.

“I thought your parents would meet us at the hanger,” he said, since that was honestly the most surprising thing about the Keep so far. He knew that some parents were distant to their children, but he had thought that the return of their runaway daughter, with the other daughter they thought dead, would be a cause for celebration. “Where are they?”

“I didn’t tell them we were flying in,” Tilsie said, slightly shamefaced, but confident in herself in a way she hadn’t been when they first met. “They’re going to fuss and carry on. There will probably be some shouting about impropriety.”

“…not tears of joy about their returned children?”

If Tilsie’s parents didn’t value their daughters, Mila would gladly carry off both of the Ladies Do Grezden himself. Dragons took families seriously. His mate and her sister were Treasures he would not happily part with anyway. Taking the from people who didn’t value them was, in a certain way, deeply satisfying.

He might have to ask if he could steal them anyway.

“There will be some of those too,” Shaddra said. Although still pale and thin from her time in Underhill, she held herself proudly. Mila doubted anyone would look closely enough to see the way her hands shook when she took them out of her pockets. “They’re good people, just… a little empty-headed.”

“So was I, when we started all this,” Tilsie pointed out when Mila growled a little. That, he had to admit, was true enough. She was smart, and educated, but those didn’t necessarily mean good sense. Fortunately, Tilsie was a quick study. “Besides, I’m not staying here, so we won’t see much of them.”

That part, at least, they did talk about. Once Shaddra went to bed, Tilsie came down to Mila’s lair-bed in the Hold and let him curl up around her in a big pile of blankets and scales. It took some arguing and some negotiation to figure out their next steps, but Tilsie had been very clear about her desire to stay on the ship with him.

Everything else could be figured out later. The important pieces were in place.

Tilsie’s parents, she had explained, were Lord Baron Mizaren Do Grezden and Baroness Ankha Do Grezden. Together, they ruled a small star system, and the Lord Baron sat the House of Lords.

Not that Mila was terribly impressed by all that, but dragons were rarely impressed by human ranks. He broke shell on Old Earth. He wasn’t especially worried about making a good impression. That said, they were the parents of his mate and her sister. It wouldn’t do to upset them overly.

Maybe he should have changed into something resembling formal-wear. His worn canvas pants and loose shirt probably weren’t appropriate for meeting nobility.

Maybe he should just wear his scales. Nobody ever told a dragon their scales were inappropriate.

“You’re overthinking this,” Tilsie told him, which meant that either he was growling again, or he had spoken aloud. “They’re going to be very grateful that you brought us back safe and sound.”

“How are they going to feel about the fact that you’re planning to leave with me?” He hoped she was still planning to leave with him, anyway. He didn’t really understand the lure of home, having never particularly had one of his own. All the same, he wouldn’t force her to leave hers, if she wanted to stay. “If our plans haven’t changed.”

“They haven’t changed,” Tilsie assured him. Unlike him, she was clothed in the finery she had hidden away in the bottom of her bags. She glittered in silver-gold, almost a match for his scale, which she wore openly at her throat. “And Shaddra might be coming with us.”

“I don’t feel safe here anymore,” Shaddra admitted shyly to Mila, who wasn’t surprised, but did purr at his mate’s sister. She was, of course, welcome. They came to a large set of doors, manned by a pair of surprised footmen who looked over the Ladies do Grezden with some shock. They had, after all, been missing for quite a while. “Here we are. Mother and Father always take sherry in the library before dinner. Open the doors, please, Colby. Do they have company?”

“No, Lady Shaddra,” one of the footmen stammered. He pushed the door open with a professionalism that looked like it was mostly muscle memory. “Welcome home, Lady Shaddra! We thought- we feared the worst.”

“Thank you, Colby,” Shaddra told him and gave Tilsie a shaky smile before they stepped through the doors together, with Mila just behind them. He would have liked to go first, but that instinct was one he could ignore reasonably well. “Mother? Father?”

There was a sound of shattering porcelain before Mila entered the room, and he bit his own tongue rather than let the fire show behind his teeth. The sound turned out to be a broken teacup, shattered on the floor when it slipped from Tilsie’s mother’s nerveless hand. Almost before it hit the floor, the Baroness was out of her chair and had flung her arms around both her daughters Behind her, their father was halfway out of his chair, and seemed just as stunned as his wife.

Not surprising, considering he thought one daughter missing, and the other dead.

He didn’t join the huddle, but he looked like he wanted to. Lord Baron Do Grezden was a man who had turned a small fortune into a large one. Although many of his peers outranked him, his word was well-heeded, and he was known for being fair-minded, for a noble.

He and his wife had been somewhat absent from their daughters’ lives, preferring to leave their care to nannies, but by their joy at the sight of their girls, Mila could see that they did love their children. That reassured him somewhat. If they had been cruel to Tilsie or Shaddra, Mila might have had to do something drastic, like shifting into his scaly form in their library.

“They told us you were dead,” Baroness Do Grezden was saying into her younger daughter’s hair between kisses pressed to each of their faces. “They said they had kidnapped you, but then they refused us proof of life. How in the world did you make it home?”

At that, Tilsie pulled away, and reached for Mila’s hand. He twined his fingers with hers and did his best to look mostly human.

“This is Mila,” she introduced him to her parents, just a little shy, but determined. “He agreed to help me find Shaddra, and has been… been the most steadfast companion I could have ever dreamed of.”

Forget looking human. Mila was trying not to purr. His Treasure, his mate, thought he was a good companion. It might sound like faint praise, but Mail knew how she meant it. Could feel how much moreshe meant by it, and was flattered right down to the tip of his unseen tail.

“Greetings,” he said around his overwhelming smugness, and smiled, somehow without showing too much tooth. “I am glad to meet the family of Tilsie and Shaddra. They speak highly of you both.”

Humans liked flattery, right? He wasn’t very good at it, but for Tilsie, he would try.

“You brought our girls back to us?” Baroness Do Grezden asked, somewhat shaky and tear-stained. “You kept Tillestra safe, and rescued Shaderine?”

It was strange to hear their full names, but Mila supposed he didn’t use his own full name very often either. “Couldn’t do anything else, Baroness. Not after… well after everything.”

“Please sit,” Baron Do Grezden said when he finally managed to rally to the shock of his daughters’ reappearance. “And tell us everything.”

+++

HGE - The Maw

Tilsie needs to find someone in the worst part of space. For that, she needs the kind of help money can’t always buy, and the kind of luck she only hopes she has.

Back Room Handshakes

New Understandings

Poker Face

Brassy Secrets

Coffee Treasure

Fireworks at Midnight

Dragon-Tongue (Subscriber Only!)

Challenge-Battle (Subscribers only!)

Courting Rituals

Gold Shoes and Blue Scales (Subscriber Only!)

Lost Lost Lost (Subscriber Only!)

Wander Lost (Subscriber Only!)

Three Questions (Subscriber Only!)

Spent Like Rain (Subscriber Only!)

Sister Sister Treasure (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 4

Hello again! Did ya miss me? (of course you didn’t. I haven’t gone anywhere) Please enjoy the next installment of a Simeon Sin Fest that shouldn’t be allowed. As usual, lemme know what you think!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10] Pairing: Simeon x Reader Genre: Smut Wordcount: 5,300 ish Tags: Sex toys, smut, femdom, anal toys, cock rings, oral, face sitting, body worship Summary:  After a long night of being played with, it's only fair that you got to do the same to Simeon.

Skid

To say you had a wild night would have been an understatement. Simeon was relentless in his experiments and you were subjected to a full array of toys and techniques that you never imagined to go through. You couldn’t help but enjoy ever second of it. Even if he said it was for his book, even if it was all pretend, he lavished you with attention and you drank up every drop of it. All you asked for was a little affection and he was more than happy to give that for you in exchange for watching you cum time and time again. You had lost count of how many times you had climaxed under his watch, eventually passing out from exhaustion and begging for a break.

When you awoke, you were still on the floor but a large, soft comforter had been wrapped around you, tucking you in neatly into a bundle on the ground. The sun streaming past the curtains gave you a vague idea of just how late you had slept in. Rubbing your eyes and looking around, you found Simeon sleeping soundly on the couch nearby. He had put his sweater back on and a small throw was carelessly draped across his abdomen. He must have been in the middle of doing something when he finally fell asleep considering how he still had his glasses on.

Your whole body hurt both from sleeping on the hard ground and also from all the activities of the night before. Stretching a bit, you worked the soreness out of your body bit by bit as you went through the motions of waking up. You tried to keep the noises to a minimum considering Simeon was right there, but it was difficult to hide a groan of pain or two from escaping when it came to stretching your back and arms.

Surprisingly enough, he stayed asleep through everything and you carefully waddled over to him with the comforter wadded up in your arms, fully intent on covering him properly to prevent him from catching a cold. Just as you were about to spread the comforter over him, your caught a glimpse of the notebook in his hand. Curiosity got the better of you and you were immediately distracted by what he had scribbled in that little book. Carefully putting the blanket down, you peeled the book from his grasp. He mumbled slightly in his sleep, stirring a bit, but didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and went right into flipping through the pages.

You thought he had gone through all the ideas in his head; however, the chapter outlines in his notebook told you a completely different story. Just glancing at the few words he had scribbled down for each scene had your cheeks and ears flushing hot with embarrassment and a fair amount of desire. You didn’t think he was capable of such scenarios, yet the proof was staring right at you. You blinked, noticing the next thing he had underlined and smiled to yourself. The premise would be perfect payback for everything he had put you though.

Putting your little scheme into motion, you tucked him in properly, took his glasses off his face and let him rest for as long as he needed to. If he could spend a whole night tormenting you to climax over and over again; you had found the perfect opportunity to do the same to him. You needed him to be well rested and ready for that. Anyway, he looked too angelic while sleeping for you to wake him up without warning.

Simeon eventually came to about an hour later. He groaned, looking around and noticing not only the comforter around him, but his glasses and notebook tucked neatly to the side. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him when he saw the empty spot on the floor. He swallowed, wondering if you had enough of him and left. He carefully got up, checking his surroundings and heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed your overnight bag was still where he had left it.

He was drawn to sounds in the kitchen and when he approached he was greeted with the most domestic scene that warmed his heart.

You had found one of his over-sized sweaters to wear. It almost came down to your knees and because of its size, you thought it would be perfect to just not wear pants. He watched you as you padded around the kitchen making breakfast out of leftovers. You hummed softly to yourself, completely unaware of him watching you until you turned and saw him at the doorway. Startled, you nearly dropped the bowl of fried rice you just finished making. “Oh, I didn’t notice you had woken up. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed a few things.” You smiled sheepishly at your attire.

“Oh no, it suits you.” He said softly, coming over and taking the bowl from your hands. His fingers brushed against yours momentarily and you felt your heart flutter. There was so much kindness in his eyes and a gentleness to all his motions, you wondered if the manic, sex driven god you saw last night was a dream. The ache between your legs told you it had definitely been your reality.

He went about as if nothing happened, helping you out with breakfast and brewing some tea to go with the meal. He had to be careful, he already had a sampling of going right to the edge with you and it was so addicting, his whole body was itching to do it again. Seeing you wearing his clothes also did something to him he didn’t expect. There was a surge of pride, and arousal, that came about when he saw how well you wore his sweater. When he stood close to you, pressed against you to get some dishes, he could smell the cloying scent of his laundry detergent mixed with your unique scent. It was a heady mixture that shot hormones straight to his groin and he had to steel himself from lewd thoughts to keep himself decent. It was much too early in the morning to deal with this.

All he wanted was a peaceful meal with you; but it seemed his mind had other plans. He kept replaying every moment you came undone and screamed his name. The way you moaned for him was so alluring and he nearly lost himself more than once. For as ancient as he was, Simeon thought he had perfect control over his emotions and his desires; but you were showing him that wasn’t the case at all. Every little thing you did seemed to give him more ideas and more ways to ravish you without experiencing a fall. The fire he played with was hot, but the reward was worth it in the end.

He struggled through eating breakfast and you could tell his mind was in the gutter. It was so adorable how hard he tried to hide it from you. He wasn’t being subtle at all, fidgeting and half paying attention to the conversation at hand. It only made you want to pounce on him even more, but you had to be patient. There was a time and place for everything and breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower while you were sleeping.” You nonchalantly said while cleaning up the last of the rice.

“Oh… Oh not at all,” he stuttered, feeling the tips of his ears burning when the image of your wet body in his shower flashed across his mind’s eye. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “So, is there anything that you’d like to do today? I feel like after uhm… what happened last night, I should let you choose how you would like to spend the rest of your time here.”

You couldn’t get enough of how he switched between adorably innocent and intensely sexy. If only you could figure out what made him tick, it would be a gold mine. You wanted to press all his buttons at once to see him come apart at the seams. He had broken you down to your base needs so easily, it only seemed fair that you did the same to him. As if the gods of fortune were smiling down upon you, he even offered to do whatever it was you wanted. You show just how excited you were when he put such a lovely gift in your lap. “I have a few ideas…” you replied, leaving a fair bit of vagueness in your answer. “But let’s get dishes done before we get too busy.”

The innuendos in your words had him thinking of scenario after scenario all which involved you being in a compromising position. He wanted to act upon those base instincts of his to simply take what he wanted; but he had already resigned control of the day to you and he would be good about it. He was an angel after all, doing the bare minimum and showing some control over his desires was the least he could do to slow his inevitable descent into the dark world of carnal pleasures. “Let me take care of that, you did the cooking. I asked you over to relax and celebrate your time with me, not cook and work.”

Perfect. You almost felt bad for taking advantage of his innately kind disposition.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I had so much fun, it didn’t even feel like work,” you chirped but didn’t stop him from going to the sink and doing the dishes as he said he would. “Well, I’ll come up with something to do while you’re doing chores then,” you were nearly singing in excitement and it took every bit of self control you had to not skip out of the kitchen and put your devious plan in full swing.

By the time Simeon was done, the house was eerily quiet. He hadn’t heard you rustling about at all while he was cleaning. He had expected you to choose a movie to watch or maybe even suggest a stroll through his gardens. But, you were no where to be found which was concerning. Honestly, he was a little anxious to find out what you had planned for him. Stepping back out into the living room, he looked around and didn’t see you there at all. An irrational wave of panic set in and he wondered if you had somehow packed up and left him.

Using his confusion to your advantage, you sneaked up behind him from your hiding spot and grabbed his arms, quickly pulling them behind him and securing them with a pair of thick leather cuffs you had found in his giant trunk of sex paraphernalia. The bewildered look he gave you as the cuffs clicked into place was so cute and you almost felt sorry for springing the surprise on him. “What.. what are you doing?” He asked, pulling against the bindings. You had purposefully kept them loose. If he wanted to leave, he was free to do so at any time. They weren’t there to keep him restrained, they were there to remind him you were in control.

You stalked around him, and he was drawn to the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Looking down, he noticed the tall platforms you had put on while he wasn’t looking. You were still wearing nothing else except for his sweater and he couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder of lust that ran down his spine to rest at his crotch. He hoped you didn’t notice; but with the way you were watching his every reaction, he knew you had seen it.

The smile on your face was full of mischief and a bit feral. Something about losing all control of the situation had Simeon’s mind blanking out and he was equal parts terrified of what you were capable of as well as quickly becoming aroused in anticipation of what you had planned. You lead him to the couch and made him sit on the edge of the cushion, all the while exuding every bit of confidence you could get out of being in control for the day. “So, I went through some of your notes...”

He audibly swallowed, breaking out in a cold sweat when he realized you had found the darkest depths of his desires. The chill that washed over him was replaced with shame as he tried to explain himself. As soon as he opened his mouth, you put a finger on his lips to hush him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” you drawled. You paced back and forth slowly, the clack of your heels against the floor echoing in the room “What I want to know, is how you expect this interrogation scene to work with me.”

You picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages, ignoring most of what he had already written until you landed on the page you were referring to. “You see, it clearly states that the main character’s partner gets caught and then interrogated… Last time I checked, I’m your stand in for the main character. Which means...” You smirked, dragging a finger down his cheek. “You get all the fun of all the scenes involving the partner, the husband… and maybe even the boss, right?”

Simeon nodded dumbly at your analysis; unable to argue with you. He had considered using you as a stand-in for those scenes as well, but he had no idea how to approach you about it. The solution you came up with was both brilliant and dangerous. Without being in control, who knew just how much further he would slip into the darkness to just be with you. It was a risk he was willing to take though. The cuffs that kept his arms bound behind him kept him firmly in place despite being loose. In the short time he had known human pleasure, he had already put his full trust in you.

“Okay… well, we’ve got the whole handcuffed part down. Next… we get a little spicy.” To see Simeon so docile and willing to participate in your little play made it all the more exciting to you. You made a show of rifling through his trunk of toys, bending over so he could get a good look at the lacy underthings you put on under his sweater. You mumbled to yourself as you went through all the options you had in front of you. Your fingers brushed across a few lengths of ropes, considering them for a moment before you left them be for the time being. Today would be a test of how far he would let you go, ropes could always wait until later.

For now, you had much more important matters to attend to. The most pressing matter being the fact that Simeon had too many clothes on. Setting aside the toys you had chosen, you stalked back over to him, making sure to keep your selection out of his direct line of sight. “First thing’s first, let’s see what I get to work with, shall we?” You asked, pressing a knee between his thighs to spread his legs apart. Leaning in, you kissed him deeply, breathed in his scent and started the scene you had schemed about since the morning into action.

You couldn’t get enough of how soft his lips were, or how wonderful he sounded whenever he let out a soft, breathy moan. Pulling away after a heated make out session, you were rather happy to see the slightest tinge of read on his cheeks and a glassy haze over his eyes. “Adorable.” You purred leaning in again to pepper his skin with more kisses along his jaw and his neck. You could feel his body tense as you explored it, but he didn’t deny you or stop you with his safe word. You figured he could take notes on how to write a sexy interrogation scene without actually being interrogated. You really weren’t in the right mindset to come up with some cheesy dialog which could throw the mood off.

Since you were going to focus on the experience, it meant that you were free to lavish his skin with kisses and light love bites until he was a shivering mess. You knew no matter how much affection you gave him, nothing would come from it. It was the nature of your relationship with him. But, you hoped you could at least convey your feelings for him while you had him at your mercy. So you poured every bit of your adoration you had for him into every kiss and every caress, hoping he would get the message.

Your fingers played at the hem of his sweater, teasing the skin of his abdomen with feather light touches while you kissed what skin was exposed. When you were sure you had given every inch attention, you peeled the sweater over his head to give you a new expanse of skin to work with. You couldn’t help but grin wickedly, watching him shiver as the sweater was pulled over his head. It dropped down his arms, stopping right at the cuffs, framing his body. If you squinted in the early daylight, it almost looked like a pair of fluffy white wings coming from him.

“My precious angel...” You murmured softly, looking at him fondly. “You’re so cute.”

You shifted so that you straddled him properly and pushed him back to rest against the cushions of the couch. In his new half-laying position, you had much more access to the skin you just revealed and you were more than happy to shower him with more kisses; worshiping his body and everything he was willing to give you.

It was so beautiful to hear him moan and shudder under you. His lithe body tensed and relaxed in time with what you did to him. You quickly learned what drew out the best sounds from him and made sure to revisit the spots that brought out the most delicious moans. His nipples were especially sensitive and every touch sent him keening. You could feel his cock twitch under you as you teased his body to the peaks of arousal without giving him what he undoubtedly wanted.

You hummed, grinding yourself against his growing hard on while you continued to give his torso more attention. Curious, you wrapped your lips around a nipple and sucked, licking the tender skin there and the scream that came from him was absolutely heavenly. You quickly became addicted to that sound and redoubled your efforts in eliciting that noise from him. He strained against his bindings but remained careful not to break them. You being on top of him was doing things to his mind he never thought were possible and he was quickly losing himself to all the sensations you were giving him.

“Please…” He begged after you had given his nipple ample attention. “I need something mo-- Ahhh” You ignored his pleas as you simply switched to his neglected nipple. Your lips made sure to give it the same attention as its partner while your fingers traced the waistband of his pants. You would give him more on your own terms, and right now you were very busy getting him to scream your name while you teased him.

He wasn’t sure just how much more teasing he could take from you and futilely rolled his up to you in an attempt to get your attention. Much to your dismay, you only ground down on him harder to keep his hips still. You bit his chest hard, enough to make him gasp and leave little teeth marks on his skin. “You’ll get more once you behave.” you explained simply before going back to caressing and kissing him.

Simeon felt delirious by the time you were finally ready to get off his lap and help him out of his pants. He was very sure they had gotten soiled with how much his cock was leaking with need. As soon as you peeled his pants off of him, he sighed in relief, no longer having anything restricting his aching cock. “Ooh… someone’s so excited.” You drawled, dragging a finger up and down his shaft. He gasped, heaving deep breaths as a new onslaught of sensations washed over him.  

You wanted nothing more than to sink your pussy down on his length and feel it stretch you out; but you needed to remain respectful of his wishes. Anyway, you had many more plans for him. You were acting out an ‘interrogation’ scene after all. What was an interrogation without some torture? You smiled softly at him while your finger swirled around the tip of his cock. “Ah… now for the fun part.” you said softly, leaning down and giving his dribbling member a chaste kiss.

You walked over to the coffee table where you had set aside the toys for the session and wrapped your fingers around the cock ring you had chosen. You made sure he was well aware of every one of your actions and forced him to watch as you slipped the ring down his length until it rested right at the juncture between the shaft of his cock and his balls. He let out a soft whimper as he felt the pressure on his cock. His expression was full of pleading when he looked up at you, begging you with his eyes to release him.

“Now now, my precious angel...” You cooed, tilting his head up to keep his eyes on you. “I can’t have you cum until I think you’ve done a good job. You can do a good job, right?”

Simeon looked at you blankly, nodding vigorously to whatever terms you were going to give him. He had been so close to climax as soon as you had taken his pants off of him and now, you had forbidden him from the release he craved. He was willing to do whatever it took to get to that high again.

“Good boy...” You praised before helping him up and repositioning him to bend over the arm of the couch with his legs spread and his ass up in the air for you. The sight of his cock hanging between his legs was so tantalizing, you couldn’t help but give it a few loving strokes which rewarded you with a shaky moan from Simeon.

You smirked, running your hand across the swell of his ass and spent a good few moments caressing his cock and balls, pulling a few more needy moans from him before you moved to the next thing you had in mind. “Let me know if this hurts now...” you said, lubing up your fingers and teasing his ass crack. “I don’t want to break you so early.” You dribbled a liberal amount of lube in between his cheeks to make the next part as smooth as possible.

When you pressed your first finger in him, he let out a strangled gasp, struggling wildly against his restraints and you waited for him to stop you. But he didn’t. Simeon simply looked like he was reeling in the experience and eventually calmed down enough for you to start sliding your finger in and out of him. The surprised gasps soon turned into pleasured moans and you felt confident enough to continue stretching him out more.

The process was gruelingly slow, but it was worth it to see his blissed out face in the end when you managed to fit three fingers in and he was a mewling mess against the couch cushions. “Good boy… Time for you reward.” you purred and reached for the glittering plug you had set aside.

You carefully removed your fingers and he whimpered when he was fully empty. Oh, he’s going to regret sounding like that soon… You thought wickedly as you spread the lube on the plug. Slowly, oh so slowly, you started easing it into him and watched as his expression changed from bliss to shock and then back to pure pleasure. The plug glittered so beautifully in the sun once it was inside of him you couldn’t help but give his ass a satisfied smack, making him jump a little.

“How’s that feel?”

“G-good...” He said breathlessly. He didn’t realize just how tense his body had become during the whole process until the toy was snugly inside of him. Now that the weight of it sat inside and the base stretched him out just so, he was in a world of nothing but pleasure. Your hand idly stroking his aching cock only added to the sensations and he was sure he would faint soon if he wasn’t allowed to cum.

“Good. You did so well, my precious angel…” you cooed. There really wasn’t any better pet name for him, you decided. He was just everything you ever expected out of an angel and it felt right to call him that while he was in your care. “Are you ready for your reward?”

He nodded, barely comprehending your words. You guided him to lounge back on the couch to give his legs a rest. The shift in positioning meant the plug only went deeper into him and pressed against a spot inside that made him see stars as soon as he sat down. You waited patiently for him to ride out the wave of sensations before you finally gave his cock the attention it deserved.

You wrapped your lips around the tip of his dick, giving it a good suck and swirled your tongue around it which caused Simeon’s hips to nearly levitate right off the couch. You firmly pressed him back down, keeping your hands on his thighs to prevent him from squirming too much. His breaths came out in shallow pants as you took his cock into your mouth inch by inch until your teeth caught on the ring at the base. Careful to not hurt him, you slowly pulled the ring off his cock one agonizing inch at a time.

Looking up at him with the toy in your mouth, you were greeted by the most angelic image of an absolutely debauched Simeon. His hair a mess and his eyes glazed over, he almost didn’t seem all present until he heard the toy drop from your mouth and onto the ground. Then, only then did he scream your name as you gave him the blissful release he had craved when your hot mouth was once again over his cock.

You let him squirm and thrust his hips into your mouth, accepting everything he was giving you as best you could. Urging him on by moaning into his dick as you sucked him off, it took almost no time at all for him to cum gratefully down your throat. The load was large enough to leave a bit of if dribbling down the corner of your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all. Pulling off his cock with a lewd pop, you looked over at him and pouted. “Ahh… it looks like someone had fun...” you drawled.

“I… yes...” He breathed, still breathless from finally climaxing. The sun glistened off of his sweaty skin as he took deep breaths to bring himself back to earth.

“So I get my turn now, as fair payment, right?”

“I… What?”

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” You let out a soft giggle, getting up from between his legs and moved him so you he was laying down across the cushions of the couch. “I still need release.”

He had no idea what you were about to do until you positioned yourself to straddle his head. He got a clear view of your dripping wet pussy and just the sight alone was mind blowing. “So, why don’t you show me what that pretty tongue of yours can do?” You asked, moving your panties to the side and sinking down onto his face.

He was surrounded by your scent, your heat and the taste of you. Simeon was more than eager to flick his tongue out and trace your soaking slit, savoring the feast you were giving him. He could barely breathe, but that didn’t matter to him. He eagerly tilted his head up to meet you and licked at everything you offered him. His lips eventually found your clit and he latched onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The moment you felt his tongue and lips on your clit, you knew it would be the end for you. You had already been holding off your arousal for so long in your quest to conquer him that when you finally got stimulation it was absolutely wonderful. You didn’t hold back your praises as you urged him to keep going. Your moans filled the room alongside the lewd sounds of his licking and lapping at your folds. You could get used to his anti-pussy fucking demands if it meant that his talented tongue could work you to orgasm over and over again instead of a cold toy.

“Oh… Oh fuck, Simeon...” you whined as you crested over the edge and came all over his face. You felt him greedily lap up everything he had access to, sending shivers all over your body until you were a shuddering, overstimulated mess.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him, finally giving him the space to take an unhindered breath. You settled on his chest, watching him gasp for air. The lower half of his face was covered in your slick and it was such an arousing sight, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him, tasting the remnants of yourself on his lips as you did so. “You did so well…” you praised once the kiss broke.

You stroked his hair gently and let him come down from whatever highs he was feeling. Taking the cuffs off of him, he examined his wrists for any marks and was rather satisfied to see that there were none. It would have been a shame if his beautiful skin was marred by a toy and not your teeth or nails. In the moments that scene ended, all tension in his body seemed to leave at once and he was a limp noodle in your arms.

You went to go get some water to sip on and helped clean off the worst of the fluids between the two of you. Reaching around him, you started to remove the plug still inside of him and he stopped you. “I… Let me wear it a little longer.”

“Alright.” you conceded and settled yourself next to him, letting him rest his head on your bosom and ride out everything. “You did so well...” you murmured, meditatively stroking his hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll make a great chapter out of this.” He reassured, partially dozing off and clinging to your borrowed sweater. “I promise I’ll make you proud.”

“You already do.”  You said softly, pulling a nearby throw over and covering him with it. “Rest, you’ve worked hard today, my precious angel.”

He mumbled something unintelligible as a reply before snuggling up closer to you, quickly falling asleep from exhaustion. You let yourself slip into a light sleep as well, knowing your calves would hate you for being in such high heels for so long. It was worth it, though.

What you didn’t know was Simeon was now far from being a precious angel now that he had a taste of sin and temptation.

[nukapind]

Revenge (Dabi x Reader)

Just a short drabble that I found in one of my folders, I wrote this like three months ago and forgot about it??? I’m still on my break tho, I just got a lil bit impatient and wanted to post something impulsively, I will officially be back on Monday with Botched Morals! Anyways I hope y’all like it and please send in requests if y’all have any! This was crossposted to my AO3.

___

“What d’ya say to us burning this place to the ground, huh Sunshine?” A cruel smirk played at Dabi’s lips and his words only fueled your inner fire. The sun’s rays pumped energy through your veins, a bright fire lighting through your palms. Heat igniting within you as you nodded. “Thought you’d never ask.” Blue fire raced with red, almost a contest to see who could consume the abandoned building first. This would serve as a perfect warning to Japan, proof that villains are still very much active and very much in control.

Maybe in another life you wouldn’t have been a villain. Maybe, you would’ve been a bright eyed student who wanted to be a hero. But when your brother, a small time thief who was just trying to take care of what was left of his family, had been in a fight with a hero that was too rough it resulted in his death. Sure, the hero was stripped of his title, and convicted of manslaughter, but it wasn’t enough.

Wreaking havoc on Japan however certainly felt like enough though.

You huffed quietly as Dabi’s flames reached the final floor of the building before yours did, rolling your eyes. Figures, the bastard was always powerful. The building crackled and groaned beneath the flames, and the shrieking of civilians rang out. The heroes would be here any minute now.

“Let’s get out of here, Shigaraki’s gonna be pissed if we get caught.” You mused. “Well then, I guess you better hurry Doll.” He smirked before bolting off into a nearby alley, leaving you chasing after him.

This must have been what Bonnie and Clyde felt, a life of crime and vanishing without a trace. The adrenaline coursing through you was to die for, and you just might if you don’t run fast enough. You’d be damned if you didn’t go out without a fight.

“I’ll kick your ass Dabi!”

You couldn’t bite back the laugh that bubbled out your throat, ruining the intended threat. But it didn’t matter— not much did right now. In a shitty world where the strongest would rule over everything, under the guise of it being justice? The league was doing much better justice in your eyes: revenge on a ruined society. A band of misfits that had each been wronged somehow? It was a recipe for disaster— disaster for the heroes at least— and the havoc that you would wreak with them was delicious to say the very least.

Sprinting through the dingy alleyway, chest heaving as the sounds of screams faded away. This was what life was all about: showing just how strong you were compared to all those little citizens. To strike fear in their hearts and make them all pay for worshipping those glorified vigilantes.

Karma sure was a bitch.

It was revenge you got when Dabi stood in front of you as your running finally came to a halt, his own heavy panting slowly starting to even out. It was your revenge when your lips smashed against his own in a flurry of passion— it was his own revenge when his hands gripped your waist tightly, teeth harshly nipping at your lower lip.

Life was always about revenge.

Masterlist

[perseusannabeth]

My Hunger Knows No Bounds - Part 2

Okay, so this is based off a prompt I got, asking me for an Elriel labour fic. I kinda had to end up splitting it in two, because I'm still writing, and this would get super long otherwise. Part 3 is coming soon, I promise! Also I've not properly proof read this so I'm sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Read on AO3

Ever since Elain had knocked on his door to ask for some food, they had set up a routine. They hadn't told anyone else about it, especially not their siblings. Cauldron knew that they were all a bunch of busybodies, and would ruin a perfectly good thing with their meddling. Azriel could already imagine his brothers with their knowing looks and raised eyebrows, and he didn’t want to imagine what Elain’s sisters would say or do, especially not Nesta. He knew that they meant well, but there was no way that he was ready for his brothers to start talking about the possibility of him being in a relationship again, and he knew that was exactly what Cass and Rhys would start talking about if they heard about the set up he had with Elain. 

Plus, with Cassian and his big mouth, there's no way Mor and Ciara wouldn't find out. While he knew that he could get Mor off his back easily enough (just tell her about Amren's secret relationship), Ciara was a whole other ball game. Unfortunately, with three older brothers, Ciara had figured out very early on in life how to get what she wanted. With their big age gap, the girl was able to get pretty much anything she wanted and get away with murder. He didn't always regret it, but when she turned to use her big fake innocent eyes on him, he wished he was less of a sucker for her games. He even knew she was playing him, and still fell for it.    

Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure exactly what his relationship with Elain was. They spent some time together with their family, but that wasn't the same. They spent many evenings together, eating and laughing and talking, just the two of them. Azriel had made quite a few recipes from the blue cookbook his mother had given him. He knew without a doubt that if it hadn't been for Elain, he wouldn't have touched it after the one time he had cooked the biriyani. He found it was quite nice to cook for Elain and to have a secret time that was just for the three of them. The baby was so active that you could never forget about the third person (not quite) in the room.

Elain was so easy to talk to. That wasn't something that he had ever found in a person, not his brothers, not his mother, not Rhys' mum, but somehow, Elain made even quiet, stoic Azriel want to talk. He couldn't quite believe it, but they spent most of their time alone just talking about anything, and he was more than capable of carrying a conversation, and participated in it just as much as Elain did, something which he had never been able to do before, and was very proud of.  

They would talk about so many different things, some topics light and fun, some topics dark and heavy. Azriel found himself wanting to share things with Elain and looked forward to these evenings often. To this day, not even his brothers knew the full story about what had happened to his hands. They had pieced things together from what Rhys' mother had said, and when Azriel used to wake up with nightmares, and his aversion to fire. With Elain, he had been the one to bring it up. She had made it so easy to talk about, he hadn't even noticed the phantom pains he got when he usually thought about what had happened, because she had been holding his hands. He hadn't noticed the tears streaming down his face either until Elain had wiped them off his face so heartbreakingly gentle. He had felt at peace when he had told her what had happened like a weight had been lifted off his chest and he could finally breathe.  

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew Elain would never judge or pity him because her situation made people judge and pity her. She knew how dirty and horrible the judgement and pity made him feel, how he would do anything to not feel like it was his fault it had happened.  

Azriel hadn't wanted to pry about the father of the baby. He knew that Elain had recently moved to the building and that she lived alone. Her sisters would go with her for any baby-related appointments, and Nesta was Elain's birthing partner, much to everyone but Cassian's amusement. Nesta had been so horrified by the birthing video, that she had refused to have sex with Cassian for a week. Both Azriel and Elain had been shocked that they had even lasted a week without jumping each other. 

Elain had opened up slightly about Graysen, her ex-fiancé who had left her because his family had put pressure onto him to marry someone more suitable. Azriel couldn’t help but get angry at Graysen whenever he thought about it, because how could someone not have the backbone to stand up for the woman he loved to his family. His father did sound like a piece of work, and Azriel was glad that Elain wouldn’t have to deal with that, but he pitied Graysen for being stupid enough to give in to the pressure and give Elain and the baby up. How this man, who claimed he still loved Elain, could give her and his child up was beyond Azriel, but he was almost selfishly glad of it because, without that, he would never have his nights with Elain. 

Social interactions often left Azriel feeling tired and drained, even if the interactions were with his family and friends. It wasn't something that happened all the time, and his family and close friends were very good at reading the signs of him hitting his limit, depending on how sober they are. A drunken Cassian, for example, cannot read any signs of anything, and even if you tell him outright, he still might not understand. A drunken Cassian should never be let into your bedroom at 3 am because he 'missed his favourite broody brother'. It is a scam, and he will cling to you like a koala clings to a tree.  

Azriel never felt drained when he spent time with Elain. It wasn't that he felt energised after being with her, he was pretty sure that was a myth. But he did feel calm and at peace after spending time together, happy even. Although his family and friends could make him feel like that, it was different with Elain. She made him feel like that every time they were together. He couldn't quite explain it, but he knew that their dinners were some of the most relaxing evenings he'd had in a while.  

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he got excited whenever Elain text him to ask if he was cooking for her. Today was no different. When he had seen that she had texted him, he instantly felt the corners of his mouth start to rise. It had been just over a month of knowing Elain, and he had never said no to her. He was pretty sure that it was illegal to say no to a pregnant woman anyway, but he had never been tempted. Elain was just so sweet, how could anyone say no to her? 

When Elain had texted him today, he had been having a boring day. Cassian was off work because Nesta was doing some fancy pants lawyer stuff today, and Cassian was a good boyfriend who was going with her to support her. With Cassian gone, Azriel had nobody to laugh at for being an idiot. Rhys was in meetings all day, so he couldn't laugh at either of his brothers for being love-struck fools who smiled dopily at their phones every time their significant others text them. Azriel tried to tell himself he wasn't jealous of what his brothers had.  

Azriel had had to get his head down and do some paperwork which had been mind-numbingly boring, and the reason why he had been putting it off for so long. He had text Mor to see if she was around to save him from being bored, but she apparently had to do inductions for some newbies. Ugh. He hated how everyone in his family had responsibilities.  

Just after lunch which he took with Nuala and Cerridwen, where they had a catch up (no Mor it isn't gossiping), he got a text from Elain, asking him if he would cook for her again. Azriel couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, even though Nuala and Cerridwen gave him some funny looks for it. Thankfully, they had been friends with Azriel long enough when to comment on something or not. He had no illusions that they would let it go, they would simply bring it up at a time when he had to answer. They were just so good at getting information out of people.  

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking of which other recipes he could cook for Elain, and what ingredients he had in the house. He probably wouldn't need to go shopping, but he didn't mind if he did need a thing or two. These days, however, he tended to keep his apartment well-stocked in case he needed to cook for Elain at short notice.  

Elain had said she had been eating cup-a-soup for the past 2 days and would be for lunch too because, although it was just water and those gross dried ‘vegetables’, that was what she seemed to be craving. He needed to feed her something nutritional because he knew those stupid powered 'soups' had no nutritional value. Over the past month, he had been googling what was good for the baby, as well as making sure that it didn't make Elain feel sick. If he was going to cook for Elain, he might as well make sure that it’s good for her.   

He decided that he would also make dessert for Elain, which was something he didn't do as often when Elain had dinner with him, mostly because she would usually want to have something that she had baked. He and Elain had figured out the perfect system so that she didn't feel guilty about eating his food, since there was no way he would let her give him money for cooking, or even for ingredients. He would cook the main meal, and Elain would bring over whatever she had baked. Today, however, Azriel had told Elain he would cook desert himself today. He wanted to surprise her with a dessert from his mother's cookbook. Elain had been enjoying milk flavoured things a lot lately, drinking it at any given moment, even having it with her meals, so Azriel had decided to combine her two favourite pregnancy cravings, sugary things and milk, making a dessert called rasmilai which was a sugary, milky dessert with strange little dough balls in it.  

It had been one of Azriel's favourite deserts as a child, and had been craving it himself lately, but had decided to make it for Elain. He knew if not for her, he would have never made it because he was too lazy for that, but making it for Elain was so rewarding that he enjoyed cooking for her. The way Elain’s face lit up was exactly the same as the first time she had eaten his cooking. He wasn’t quite sure what it did to him when she was so happy at the sight of food in front of her, only that it made his chest feel weird and tight. 

Azriel decided to finish work at 4, which was early for him, and definitely earned him a few more strange looks from Nuala and Cerridwen but he ignored them with ease. He knew he would be getting grilled about his strange behaviour in a few days after they had snooped around and asked his brothers and Mor about what was going on with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Azriel drove home, now not even attempting to hide the smile on his face. He seemed to smile more since he met Elain, another thing he didn’t really focus on too much. Or something he didn’t want to focus on. He seemed to be doing that a lot, but then again, Azriel was the master of avoiding thinking about his own feelings. It was definitely not a problem, his siblings had no idea what they were talking about. 

Azriel sent Elain a quick text to let her know that he was home and going to start cooking, just in case she wanted to come over and keep him company. It had happened often enough now, Elain laying on his sofa and talking until she fell asleep while he cooked. Azriel would notice she had gone silent and cover her with a blanket, making sure she wasn’t lying in a way that would cause her or the baby any discomfort. 

Elain replied as he was getting the milk into a pan, with a ridiculous amount of sugar to boil away, telling him that she would be coming over soon, with a share bag of prawn crackers, that she would not be sharing. Azriel let out a small laugh when he saw her text. He was never sure if Elain was having cravings, or if she just used them as an excuse and this was how she ate normally. Since he had never known her before she was pregnant, he couldn’t quite say for sure. 

Thinking about Elain’s pregnancy, Azriel couldn’t help but think about how big Elain was. It was the one thing that put him on edge around Elain, how she looked like she could topple down at any moment and not get back up. He tried not to be overbearing and annoying, but he was always worried something would happen to her and the baby. He had spent more of his free time reading up about pregnancy than he would care to admit. He certainly understood why Nesta had refused to have sex for a week when he had watched a video of a woman giving birth. He definitely did not envy Elain for that. 

A knock on the door pulled Azriel from the swirling thoughts in his head. He opened the door, instantly smiling as Elain waddled in, still eating her prawn crackers. He couldn’t help but laugh as she eased herself onto the sofa, still eating. 

“Az, the baby likes the smell of whatever you’ve cooked today.” 

Azriel couldn’t help but blush at the casual use of his nickname. “Tell the baby thank you, I’m glad someone appreciates my cooking.” 

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[ithebookhoarder]

Chapter 11:  A New Equilibrium.  (The Gangster’s Daughter)

Masterlist:

Also available on AO3:

Warnings: Original Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Parent Tommy Shelby, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent.

----------

Life adopted an unusual but steady rhythm the following weeks after the mens return home both in and out of Watery Lane. 

Business was booming again, with the Shelbys at the helm. Men, all eager to enjoy the spoils of life back home in the city, eagerly filled the shop day after day, money in hand and bets ready to be placed. 

There was something celebratory about it all. About seeing the hope in mens eyes as they’d handed over their bets. About hoping their luck had changed, even in most cases it hadn’t. Still, every win was significant as the staff handed over the winnings with a happy grin and handshake. 

The staff in the shop felt similarly. Many hadn’t seen one another since the start of the war, having been assigned to various regiments. For those men, to be reunited again was something they’d been dreaming of. There were cheers and hugs as they’d arrived their first day back, laying eyes on the lucky souls who’d returned. 

Not everyone had been so lucky, as the vacant desks reminded them. Of course, there were plans to find people to replace their positions but it was obvious it would be no small feat. There may have been hundreds of men desperate for work, but none of them would be those brave souls who had perished in France, all in the name of king and country. 

Still, everyone did their best not to dwell, as was the way of life in Birmingham. 

The Shelbys, in particular, had had a lot to catch up on. Four years worth of stories and news was quite a lot, even with the letters they’d been writing back and forth. 

For example, Evie told them all about her schooling, and the fact she’d managed to secure a prefect badge for the final year. She couldn’t help but beam as she saw the pride swell in her father’s face - even if John and Arthur laughed themselves sick at the thought. 

“A Shelby prefect? Ha! Now I have heard it all.”

She paid them no mind, finding it a little funny herself. At least she gave them something to laugh about, considering the bleak stories they’d shared. Granted, they made a valiant effort to try to liven them up, with the odd joke or two but even that couldn’t mask the death and horror of war, written all over their faces. Finally, something the Shelby smile couldn’t hide. 

It was the same look Evie saw in John’s eyes when she went with him to visit Martha’s grave. They’d chosen to bury her in the cemetery just outside of the city, knowing she would have liked the fresh air, and rolling green fields around them, full of flowers. Evie had been to visit many times during the war, using it as a chance to escape when the house and the people in it had become too much. 

She’d often sit and speak to Martha, telling her about what John had written in his latest letter, or even bringing her newborn child to see her. Evie knew Martha would have liked that, to see for herself that they were alright. She also knew Martha was probably happy to see John here as well, to know he was back in the city and safe. 

So, she pointed him to the grave and left him to talk privately, knowing he probably had a lot to say. Four years was a long time after all. 

There were other small changes too, since John, Arthur and Tommy had returned. The fact people tipped their caps at Evie when they saw her in the street - police included - was enough to make her falter. She’d hadn’t noticed it these past years, or if she had it had never been repeated enough to spark her attention. 

It was as if the whole city knew the Shelby men were back. As if, the whole city was watching. Waiting. 

Waiting for what?

It was an odd feeling. One Evie was quick to bury. No matter what Polly may have said had she known, there was too much to be happy about to let something as trivial as a premonition ruin it. 

What good was superstition anyway? It was all rubbish. 

Wasn’t it?

——

Evie should have learned a long time ago not to dismiss the idea of the supernatural, or that her aunt had a scary habit of being right. 

She should have listened to her aunt’s warnings of premonitions. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t have been so startled when she awoke one night. 

It had been weeks now, since her father and uncles had returned to Small Heath. 

Evie bolted upright, panting as she tried to work out what had woken her. Normally, she was a deep sleeper. It took saucepans or someone jumping on her to wake her from a good night’s sleep. However, tonight, something had yanked her from unconsciousness. 

Then she heard it again: the muffled screams from down the hall. 

Evie felt her blood run cold. Never before had she heard a sound so full of pain and fear. It rattled her enough that she gasped, feeling a tremor run down her spine. 

It wasn’t a ghost or some demon in the night. This wasn’t one of her books, after all. The sound was painstakingly real and loud, echoing through the wall behind her. Wait. That was her father’s wall? Did that mean-?

Evie was already out of bed. 

She didn’t even think as she bolted for the door and towards her father’s room. Her trembling hand reached for the doorknob and threw it open, preparing herself to see some horrific scene or someone attacking him. 

But that wasn’t what she saw. 

Evie gasped at the sight. 

“Dad?” 

She assumed it was her father, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. All she could see was a pale figure thrashing about on the bed before her, illuminated by the thin strips of moonlight pouring in through the window. 

Tangled up in his sheets, a thin sheen of sweat plastering his body, Tommy Shelby almost looked possessed. Sobs and half formed shouts escaped him as his limbs thrashed about, reaching for something Evie couldn’t see. Some invisible demon.

It terrified her. 

What did she do? Her instinct was to rush to his side, to try and gently shake him awake. 

“Dad?” she encouraged, trying and failing to release him from the mental torment he was trapped in. How had he done it, all those times before, when she’d been small and similarly afflicted?

Evie couldn’t remember. Her panic was too strong as it rang in her ears, muting out anything that wasn’t her father. 

“Dad! Wake up! It’s ok,” she pleaded. “You’re home. You’re safe. Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open. A sudden cry escaped his lips, sending her staggering backwards in a panicked daze. 

“Dad. Stop. It’s me,” Evie began. 

However, her words clearly had no impact on him. He was a man in a trance, still gripped by whatever terror was still inside him as he flung out a hand onto the bedside cabinet and bolted upright. 

His eyes whirled to her. 

She then noticed what was in his hand… The gun was pointing directly at her. 

She screamed.

 It fired. 

Her legs gave way as she dropped to the floor, covering her head as she felt herself go numb. The sound was deafening, the shot ringing in her ears as she stifled a sob of panic. 

Plaster showered down on her head from the bullet hole above her. 

The sound apparently woke her father from his terror induced haze as she heard the gun clatter to the ground. She felt it as he hurried to her side, cursing and trying to get a look at her trembling body. “Where are you hit?” 

He repeated it again and again as he tried to get her to respond. It took a minute before Evie could even look at him, let alone move her tongue. “I’m fine… you didn’t hit me,” she stammered, pushing his hands off of her. 

“Thank God,” he croaked, his tone suddenly sharp. “What the hell were you thinking?”

What had she been thinking? Better yet, what had he been thinking? Or feeling? 

“You tried to shoot me?” Evie gasped. The moment finally seemed to reveal itself to her in painstaking detail. She didn’t know what to say. All she could do was repeat the statement over and over again. “You tried to shoot me. With a gun. A real gun.”

“I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t have fired if I’d known,” her father pleaded, his voice trembling as relief and remorse flooded through him. “Listen to me, Evie. Never come in here again if you hear me like that. Understood?”

Evie nodded dumbly. “But… I thought… I thought you were in trouble.”

By then, she heard footsteps and knew they were no longer alone. The gunshot would have been enough to wake the whole house. If any were brave enough to investigate it was different. 

“Tommy?” That was Arthur’s voice, bellowing from the doorway. He looked almost comical in his pyjamas, gun in his hand, ready to fight. He would have been more menacing if his hair wasn’t poking up in all directions. “You alright?”

“Fine, Arthur. Go back to sleep.”

“I heard shots.” That was Ada, accompanied by a frantic looking Finn. 

“It was a mistake. An accident, but it’s all good now, eh?” 

Was it? Was it all good? Evie knew no one better at saving face than her father. She’d learned that a long time ago even if she had yet to perfect the art. 

Somehow, he managed to settle everyone and send them back to the rooms in the time it took Evie to calm her breathing. She had only just regained control of her limbs when he re-appeared, slowly easing her up off of the cold floor. 

This wasn’t right. She was supposed to be the one comforting him? Not the other way around.

Yet, despite shaking still and panting as if he’d been running a marathon, Tommy began to escort her over toward his bed. 

“Evie. Look at me,” he soothed, brushing his hand through her hair and gripping her chin so that she couldn’t hide from him. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened but it was like I was floating, looking down at my body. I didn’t even feel the gun in my hand. You know I’d never hurt you, eh? Never.”

“I know,” Evie whispered. A small nod was the best she could offer as proof. 

“It won’t happen again, alright? You have to stay out if I have another nightmare like that. I… I can’t control myself or my actions.”

“But-”

“Promise me,” he begged.

She’d never heard him so scared before in her life. His grip was tight on her, but not painful as he held her, held until she gave her word. 

It was clearly all she could do to calm him. 

“Y-Yes,” Evie gulped. “I promise.”

Thankfully, she saw the relief her answer gave to him. It was as if a literal weight had rolled off of his shoulders. 

Finally, he finally seemed calmer. Able to let go of her and resume something of normalcy. It was why he switched back to his paternal nature, reaching past her to light the the lamp beside them a moment later. He then leant back, pulling the covers aside so that they could both clamber into the bed.  

Evie wanted to laugh. The last time they’d done this, she’d been much smaller. 

“Are you sure?” 

Tommy nodded. “Would I offer it otherwise? We could both use some sleep and maybe with each other to protect us we’ll have no more interruptions.”

Evie hoped so. 

“Alright then,” she shrugged, nestling her way under the covers and curling up beside him. If only the others could have seen it. Tommy Shelby. Sleeping with his daughter curled in his arms. It was enough to make even the hardest of men melt. “Just don’t hog the covers.”

“It’s my bed, thank you very much miss. Should I read you a story?”

“Don’t push it,” Evie sniggered, even if a small part of her was tempted to say yes. She was curious which one he’d have chosen. 

However, as it turned out, it would have been pointless even if she had asked him. She’d only been in bed a moment before her eyes drooped closed. Apparently, coming off of such an adrenaline high was exhausting. 

So it was, Evie fell asleep that night, nestled in her father’s arms. Even asleep, her grip was deathly tight as she clung to him, as if trying to prove he was safe beside her.

She only hoped when she opened her eyes in the morning, it remained true. 

This was one dream she didn’t want to wake from. 

——

Tommy was gone when she woke. 

The empty space in the bed beside her told Evie that fact immediately as soon as she’d opened her eyes. However, her heart stopped racing as she noticed that along with her father, his boots were also gone - the boots her father normally wore when heading down to the muddy stable yards. His cap and coat was also missing. 

He must have risen early and decided to go for a ride. It was the usual Shelby tonic for most troubles, after all. No war could change that. If anything, he’d probably missed the horses and the chance to ride them for fun, not as part of a cavalry charge or supply chain.

Evie calmed down immediately. 

If Tommy had ever needed a ride, it was probably that morning. Evie wouldn’t forget the look of horror she’d seen on his face the night before. The ghosts that appeared to be weighing on his soul as he’d pulled that trigger and sent them plummeting into chaos. 

It would take a while for all of them to adjust. Evie was under no illusions of that and last night had made it all too clear. 

She sighed. She peeled back the covers, padding over toward the window and pulling the curtains back to let in the sunlight. 

Everything looked pale and starker in the sunlight than it had during the night. Then again, she’d never been in her father’s room enough to notice. It was his space. His sanctuary. One, she had always been eager to respect. He’d done the same. It was only right and fair. 

Well, until last night. 

It felt uncomfortable to be there without him. It had been one thing to intrude last night when she’d thought he needed her. But now… now she felt like she was somewhere she didn’t belong. Like she was about to be caught and scolded. 

Her uneasiness only grew as she turned back towards the door; the bullet hole directly in her eye-line. 

There was no way to avoid it. 

The hole in the wall was obvious. It was hard to miss, with the ripped wallpaper and plaster powder marking it for all to see. 

Evie couldn’t bear to look. Then again, at least it could be filled and mended, hidden away beneath plaster and paint. If only all such scars could be fixed as easily. 

With a soft sigh, she hurried out of the room and back to her own to dress, ready to face the day as best as possible. 

——

“Morning.”

“Morning, Pol,” Evie mumbled, skipping her way down into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to see her aunt there, pottering about as if she owned the place. She was there most mornings, choosing to come early before the shop opened. Then again, she only lived a few doors away. It wasn’t as if she had far to travel. 

“Breakfast’s on the table if you want it.”

Evie smiled gratefully, perching in a chair and beginning to fill her plate with toast and jam. It was her go-to in the mornings, and after last night, she didn’t know if she could stomach a fry up. 

 By now, Evie knew someone would have filled Polly in on what had happened last night. Even then, Evie wouldn’t put it past the woman for her to have found out through some supernatural means. She had an uncanny habit of doing that, always knowing what Evie was going to say before she even said it. 

This morning was no exception as Polly made her way towards the now cooling pot of tea on the side and began to pour herself a cup. “I heard it was an exciting night last night.”

Evie chose not to say anything. She didn’t know where to begin and honestly, she was too tired to start what was sure to be a long conversation. All she wanted was to get to school and pretend like the night had never happened. 

“You could say that.”

“I could. I could also say that, from what Ada told me, it sounds like your father gave you quite the fright.”

“I don’t know if nearly being shot by your father counts as simply ‘quite a fright’,” Evie grumbled, aggressively biting the edge off of her toast. “I didn’t… It’s not his fault, I know. It was stupid of me to think he could go off to war and come back the same person but I did. Alright? I did and now I don’t know what to do, Pol.”

Her aunt sighed. She gently perched herself next to Evie as she listened to her confession. She then pushed forward a bowl of porridge as an offering and made sure Evie ate some before talking. 

“You’re not stupid, Evelyn Shelby. You’re a lot of things and stupid isn’t one of them, alright?” she began calmly. “Secondly, I think you were being hopeful before, when you thought about your father coming home. You were just a child, Evie. What did you expect? There was nothing wrong with hope. God knows we needed as much of it as we could get with everything happening over in that Hell Hole. Your father did an admirable job hiding any details from you in his letters, but I’ve heard people talk. I know the horrors he must have seen.”

Horrors that now continued to plague him, or so Evie suspected. Why else did he sleep with a gun so close by? 

“You both did what you needed to survive, Evie. Now that everything’s changed, the war’s over and we’re trying to pick up the pieces of our lives,” Polly continued firmly, making it clear she didn’t want to hear her niece berating herself again any time soon. “There is no right or wrong way to feel. There isn’t a guide book on how we’re supposed to behave and act. It’s down to us to listen to one another. To protect each other and support our family."

She made it sound so easy. Evie didn’t even know where to start with such a request. Wasn’t it her need to make sure her father was ok that had got her into that mess last night? How was she supposed to support a man who wouldn’t even tell her the first thing about what he’d been through or how he felt?

Then again, it wasn’t exactly as if she was going to win an award anytime soon for her emotional honesty. She’d inherited that much from him. 

Evie sighed. She bit her lip as she tried to control the urge to cry. “Will we ever get back to how we used to be, before all this?”

“I could read your leaves but even then it isn’t a guaranteed thing,” Polly exhaled, letting loose a plume of smoke from her lips. “There are somethings even the spirits can’t help with or answer. This is one of those things… There’s a darkness in men, Evie. They each have their own demons to fight, just as we women do too.”

“Demons?”

Was that was she was calling the nightmares plaguing her father and uncles? It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t they all done enough fighting for a lifetime. They didn’t deserve to come home and have to continue fighting for their sanity as a result of a stupid war they hadn’t even started in the first place. To have their choices on the battle field haunting them. To have their sins linger…

“Does - does that mean,” Evie stammered, “being a soldier, he must have killed. They all must have. Dad almost did last night… Is he a good man?” 

It was the first time she’d ever uttered those words aloud, the first time she’d been brave enough to truly want an answer. Even after all she’d seen since she’d entered Watery Lane. 

“War changes men. I don’t think there is a set definition of ‘good’ but I know he loves you. He loves you so much he was willing to go off to war and be shot at for you,” Polly sighed, squeezing the girl’s shoulder comfortingly. “That’s all I care about and all you need to know right now. Your father needs to handle all of this, his own way. Give him time.”

“I gave him four years, Pol,” Evie sighed. “How much more time am I supposed to give?”

Nevertheless, she knew better than to argue any further, so merely looked back down at her porridge and ate silently. It was only as she went to place the dish in the sink that she finally saw the man in question. 

Her father was always a composed man, no matter how rushed he was. This morning was no exception. Despite the fact he was already running late, and hadn’t even done up his waistcoat yet, Tommy Shelby strolled about with utter composure. 

“Morning all,” he greeted, reaching for the teapot and a cup. His chipper tone was completely at odds with his exhausted appearance. The bags alone under his eyes alone made him look almost ill, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

“It lives,” Pol remarked, even if living was a bit optimistic for the state he was in. “Some of us have been up for hours, you know. John and Arthur are outside waiting to open. It was payday yesterday and half the town are banging on the doors.”

“What are you keeping the good people waiting for then?”

Polly rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath about Shelby men and curses as she stubbed out her cigarette and marched out of the room. It was time to unleash the masses and like a tidal wave, they would come, money in hand, bets ready to be placed. 

Hence why Evie was more than eager to make her escape. The last thing she needed was to be trampled to death in a stampede of factory workers and drunkards. So she hastily grabbed her bag and coat off the hook by the door, slipping both on as she made her way past her father and toward the rear exit. 

“See you later,” she gasped.  

However, she hadn’t even made it to the door before she heard her name called. She paused, looking back over her shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“I want you home straight after school tonight,” Tommy began, his tone oddly calm. “Alright?”

Evie paused. “But I was going to go by the yard-”

“Well, change of plans,” Tommy interrupted, smiling as he tried to soothe the sting in his words. “Look, these streets have changed since the men came back. I don’t feel comfortable with you wandering out there on your own.”

“But I wouldn’t be alone, I’d be with Uncle Charley-”

“It’s not up for debate, Evie.” His tone was starting to grate on her nerves, as was his distance. It was like when she’d first joined them all over again, barely seeing him except when he needed something or wanted to check she was still breathing. “I mean it,” he repeated, watching her for her acceptance. “For the time being I want you to come home straight after school. If you want to go by the yard then one of us can take you, but I don’t want you out there alone.”

Maybe it was last night that had rattled him. Evie couldn’t be sure, but if coming home meant he would relax for even a moment then it was the least she could do. “Fine,” she conceded, rolling her eyes and stealing a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, a smile cracking his otherwise cool expression. “Now go and show them other kids what Shelby brains are capable of, ey?"

“On it.”

——-

Ever since that night she’d avoided his room or even discussing anything related to their nighttime conflict. Of course, she still heard the odd moan, thud or cry. Only the odd night or so passed without a sound coming from her father’s room, but Evie wasn’t blind. She knew nothing had improved, even if he had found a temporary relief.

Evie, however, had found no such relief. 

She was starting to go stir crazy in this house. It was now so loud, so crowded. Even though she wouldn’t have changed having them home for the world, she could have done without the noise and interruptions her father and uncles brought with them. Especially when she had work of her own to do that didn’t involve horses, betting or being a Blinder. 

She’d resorted to studying at Polly’s sometimes after school. She’d also resorted to utilising the Garrison during the quieter periods, when she knew almost no patrons would be inside. Harry never minded, in fact he was rather supportive, letting her and Lara (when her brothers drove her mad) utilise the private room for her study sessions. 

At least they both understood the struggle of a busy, testosterone fuelled house. They also understood the necessity of having female allies to get through it all.

Like now, Evie had strategically placed herself in the parlour where Polly just happened to be sprawled out by the fire, a book in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She felt somewhat bad, utilising Polly as a human shield like this, but considering it was that or failing her maths test, Evie would take her chances. 

“All done, Pol!” 

Her aunt was quick to appear over her shoulder, glancing over at the girl’s work for herself. It was only after she’d given her nod of approval that Evie closed the book and put it back in her satchel by the door. 

“Lord only knows where you get yer brains from because it certainly isn’t your father.”

“What can I say?” Evie grinned, trying not to let the praise make her too giddy. It wasn’t often anyone ever received it in this house, let alone from someone so important - or at least in Evie’s eyes. Her Aunt was one of the people she most admired in the world, and one day she’d have the confidence to say it to her face. “I’m a natural. Must be the Shelby luck.” 

“It’s something alright,” Polly smirked, lighting the cigarette she’d had perched between her lips. “At this rate you’ll sail right out of Birmingham and to the stars one day. There’ll be no stopping a smart woman like you, not in today’s world.”

Evie secretly hoped she was right, even if she felt guilty at the thought of sailing beyond the smoky horizons of Birmingham one day. “If we can now have a woman in Parliament then who knows what’s waiting for me out there?”

“Amen to that - but don’t let the others hear you saying it.” Polly smirked again before shaking her head as her name was bellowed from somewhere else in the house. “Now go on. Get out of here, I don’t need anymore Shelbys under my feet.”

Evie didn’t need to be told twice. 

She was quick to gather her things and run them back upstairs, to her room. As usual, she placed them back by her bed, spreading the rest on her makeshift desk by the window. She loved that spot. It always managed to catch any sunshine the city offered, as well as offering a decent view of the houses nearby. 

It was a great spot to think in. To write. To dream of a world beyond the smoky streets of Birmingham such as the one Polly had just described. As she argued, there was nothing wrong with her dreams and she knew it. It was more the guilt at thinking of needing anything other than what Evie had here that kept her quiet. 

She knew her family would never see her desire for more as anything other than insulting. Or nonsense. So, she was content to keep such dreams to herself, mere scribbles in a journal. Mere stories she wrote by candlelight and stored in her desk, under lock and key. 

Maybe one day she’d do more with them. Publishing them had always been a possibility, as had living them to the best of her abilities. 

Why couldn’t she have daring adventures?

She was a women. Yes. She was young. Yes. But why should that stop her from doing anything?

Evie chuckled at the thought, hurrying back out onto the landing. She couldn’t see her family sharing her opinions, other than maybe Polly and Ada. She knew giving them her copy of Mary Wollenstonecraft had been a dangerous idea. 

Speaking of dangerous, Evie couldn’t help but pause as she reached her father’s doorway, staring inside. She hadn’t dared step over the threshold since the other night and the ordeal she’d experienced inside. It wasn’t one either of them had been willing to repeat. Even now, she knew she should have turned away and kept walking. 

However, curiosity had always been a weakness of hers. 

Her eyes flickered toward the nightstand. 

It was as if a siren’s call echoed from it, coaxing her in, coaxing her closer. 

Before she knew it, she had strolled over, opening the drawer and staring inside. Just as she’d suspected, her father had left the gun tucked away, wrapped in a cloth and out of sight. He would never agree to throw it out entirely but at least they’d found a compromise. The bullets loose in the drawer were all the proof she needed that the previous threat had been eliminated. If he now woke up and tried to fire, the worst he’d be capable of was giving someone a fright. 

The wall, and the family’s sanity, were most grateful not to be at risk anymore. Despite that realisation though, Evie felt a sudden urge ran through her to hold the gun. 

She knew better than to touch it, even if a part longed to. To examine the item that had almost ended her life. To know what it felt like to hold one, to know what damage she could inflict upon an other if she so chose. 

She shook her head. 

She’d stayed long enough as it was. 

Yet, as she went to close the draw, something caught her attention. Something she hadn’t expected to see. 

A pipe? 

Since when had her father moved from cigarettes to a pipe? 

Evie paused, checking the coast was clear before she picked up said pipe and held it up to the light. Almost immediately her face dropped. She didn’t have to be an idiot to know what was inside wasn’t tobacco. In fact, it was a smell she knew uncomfortably well from the streets of her old home in London. 

Opium. 

It had almost been a pandemic in London. She’d heard enough talk of dens that had opened and of the roaring trade being run through the docks of the stuff. Her neighbours had always been ones for gossip and there had been more than enough of it to go around regarding the filthy stuff that appeared to be flooding the streets. 

She’d heard what it did to those consumed by its enticing grip. She heard of their decay, physically and mentally - if they escaped being caught taking it and sentenced to prison. 

She’d even witnessed it first hand. The amount of times she’d seen addicts, penniless and lining the streets as they begged for money to fund their habit, was heart breaking. But such was London. It was a place for both the elite and the tormented souls that comprised the lowest rungs of society. 

Evie’s blood ran cold to think of such a substance in her house. To think of someone she loved taking it. 

Anger flooded through her, followed by disappointment. 

She didn’t know what to say or think. Instead, she chose the safest option for now, which was putting the pipe back inside the drawer and closing it shut. Out of sight, out of mind, or so she told herself, hurrying out of the room. 

Confused was an understatement for how she felt right then. Did she say anything, even though that would prove she’d gone into his room? 

Did she not mention what she’d seen and simply hope her father would confide in her? 

Or, maybe he’d simply stop taking it?

It was official. Being a Shelby was too complicated. When had this become their life? Where had the care free, simpler version of their family gone? The family who had spent summers cloud watching, and made each other laugh so hard they peed. They were never perfect, but no family was. 

But nightmares and opium? It was a world away from what Evie was used to.

She didn’t care what Polly had said. Giving it time wasn’t something she believed she could do. Not when it made her heart race and her palms sweat. First, she had been shot at and now her father was an opium addict…

She had to get out of the house - preferably before she lost her sanity. 

——

She wasn’t the first Shelby to escape the house by covert means. 

Evie had discovered that fact for herself some time ago, after catching her Aunt Ada doing just that one night. 

Ada had often been off by herself, enjoying the higher sides of life in the city - or so she said after being caught by Evie one night, shimmying in the bathroom window. Apparently her window had jammed shut, leaving her caught off guard. 

Of course, Evie hadn’t said anything to anyone, finding the whole thing rather hilarious as Ada tried to gracefully sneak in, her fancy dress and mud stained heels doing their best to give her away.

In exchange for mutual silence, they’d agreed a plan. From then on, Ada had been all too willing, assisting Evie in selecting something appropriate to wear. She’d also been the one to give her the first pair of proper heels she’d worn too. 

“Here,” she’d smiled, offering a slightly worn navy pair of t-strap shoes. “They’re your size but I haven’t worn them in ages. They deserve to see some fun again.”

And, boy - had they seen some fun since then. It was that same fun Evie longed for then, staring out the window and sighing. Another night of house arrest was akin to torture, especially if there wouldn’t be anyone home with her anyway. Polly would be at her home, Arthur and the men would be down the Garrison, and she suspected Ada was going to be out herself. That only left her, and her father, if he didn’t have some last minute business to attend to. That, or if John and Arthur tag teamed him.

It was Saturday night. Was it truly so bad for her just to want to have some normality in her life, some excitement? Most people she knew would be out on the town… and now, so would she. 

Her plan made, it had almost been too simple to get away with it. After all, Lara had been begging her for a night out on the town for weeks now. She’d called her friends when it had been quiet, and agreed the details as per their usual routine.  

All she had to do now was sit back and wait - a task she didn’t realise would be quite so challenging. Not when every moment that passed made her all the more tense and itch with a need to escape the house and the chaos within it. 

For example, the meeting that had been happening across the house was making Evie’s mood steadily worse. Even sat with Finn by the fire in the parlour, it was hard to miss a word being said. 

They had been discussing business for the last hour, debating races coming up, issues with the office and staff, as well as a few skirmishes here and there. Apparently the Shelbys weren’t the only ones interested in expanding their business and takings now that the war was over. 

“We’ll need their support if we want to keep that side of the territory,” her father explained, watching a very irate John and Arthur rile themselves up at the prospect of a fight. “We need to offer an alliance to the mill workers. They know what’s going on in that part of the city, as well as the fact they sit dangerously close to the Lees.”

“We can’t let those bastards snatch their support,” Arthur roared. “We need man power. Tom’s right. We need to send over an offer of peace.”

“I can do it.”

“You, Tom?” Arthur blinked. “It’s dangerous territory over by the Mill. Let one of the other lads deliver the message. It ain’t worth the trouble.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem, eh?”

“Tom-”

Tommy shook his head, chuckling as he patted his older brother’s shoulder. “Come on, Arthur. I can take care of myself. Besides, there’s three Shelby brothers. Mum had her heir and John can be the spare if anything happens to me. What’s one less Shelby?"

The laughter from the group was instantaneous. Except for Evie. In fact, she could feel her blood boil as she turned and stormed from the doorway. Any guilt that had been lingering in her gut about her nocturnal plan had evaporated at the comment. 

How dare he? How dare he prance about like some king of the castle? He’d swanned off for four years, leaving everyone and everything behind as if they had been a pair of old socks. 

He could risk his life in the trenches? 

He could disrespect the miracle of his survival, something so many had been deprived, by risking his life again now? 

He could take opium whilst ordering her about? Lecturing her about self preservation?

The hypocrisy was nauseating. 

Evie swallowed, her fists clenching as she ignored the urge to say something stupid and start a fight she knew she would never win. There was stubbornness and then there was Shelby stubbornness. Instead, she stormed down the hallway, heading towards the parlour. 

It was official. If Tommy Shelby could do whatever the hell he wanted, then so could she. 

[dhwty-writes]

Zutara Week Day 1 - Reunion

It’s Zutara Week again babeyyyy! I am so excited for this, prepare to see nothing else of me for the next week. Thanks so much @zutaraweek for this year’s prompts, they are amazing! I haven’t got everything written yet and I hope that I manage to get through it this year instead of chickening out like last year. Anyways, those of you who have already read my 2k18 Zutara Week and my 2k19 attempt will know that I always connect the prompts to one coherent story. And wouldn’t you believe it, this year they’re even in the right order!

But now enough of that, here’s what you’re all here for:

Read on AO3

There was a revolution going on and it wasn't Zuko's fault.

It had started about three months ago on one of the outer islands where the scars still ran deep and the power of the Fire Lord was weak. Zuko could understand it. At least he thought he could because peace was hard earned and harder kept and setbacks were frustrating. There were a lot of setbacks.

When they had won the war one decade ago, they had been full of childish naivete. Because at one point they had truly believed that defeating Azula and Ozai would mean an end to all hostilities. At one point they had truly believed that these two battles would end the war. It had been childish. It had been naive. They had been children.

Ten years, however, were a very long time. A very long time for children to grow up. A very long time for trauma to subside. A very long time to be sitting in an opulent war room again arguing with the same people about the same questions because it was always the same people. Time changed but war didn't.

The problem was that the island was small and close to the Earth Kingdom and there hadn't been much to do besides build factories and build weapons. So, many people had lost their jobs when the war ended. More people had lost everything when the Earth Kingdom had come in demanding reparations taking everything in sight. Most people had lost all hope when the Fire Lord sat idly by because there wasn't much he could do. And now there was hunger and sickness and poverty and Zuko couldn't do anything because his whole country was hungry and sick and poor.

The problem was, that he couldn't be everywhere at once. He had a palace and a throne in Caldera and honestly one island was a lot of responsibility for one person, not to speak of several dozen. That was the reason he had governors on every island. The problem was, some of them weren't very good. This one, Governor Yozin, wasn't very good at all. He was old and grey and fidgeting with the seam of his robes whenever Zuko so much as glanced in his direction. He was no leader. Zuko knew he had to replace him as soon as possible.

He had wanted to as soon as he arrived but he'd been heavily advised against doing so. Ten years ago, he'd done it anyways. Now he had grown a lot and learned even more so he knew that would be a bad move. He'd just wait a few months, shower him with honours and then offer him to retire on Ember Island of something. That always worked.

But right now, he had to deal with him and the cacophony of missteps that had led to the uprising in the first place. After the war the people who had returned had mostly been soldiers and child- and partnerless colonisers with only a little fight left in them - the war had wrung the Fire Nation dry, too. Those who had stayed in the colonies had been allowed to do so on grounds of happy marriages that resulted in children. And no child should be forced to leave their home for the wrongs of their ancestors - the Avatar and his global political leader and war hero friends had been quite adamant on that point.

Now however, the fighting spirit had returned fuelled by nearly a decade of deprivation and hopelessness. And it had returned with violence.

So, he was sat in the war room with the fool of a governor and his two oldest children who weren't very pleased of his arrival - no-one liked it when the Fire Lord showed up to take local politics into his own hand. There were other people, too, his own advisers who didn't like him much more than the governor sitting across from him.

And the worst part was the insufferable silence. He had attempted small talk at least, trying to remember what Sokka had drilled into his head about it, but Agni help him he hated those jokes, too, so he hadn't been too surprised by the icy silence the officials spared him.

"So," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "What exactly are we waiting for?" He knew the Avatar wasn't coming. He had tried to convince Aang - he really had - and he had promised to come but there was some spirit-related crisis somewhere on the other side of the world so that could take some time. He did, however, say that he would send someone from the old Team Avatar as form of authority. He really hoped for Suki. Or Sokka. Katara and Toph weren't exactly known for their diplomacy when their perception of justice was concerned.

"The rebels' leader," Yozin answered. "She agreed to come talk to us."

He nodded with a stony face resisting the urge to chew his advisers out. The rebels' leader? No-one had told him about that! But for the moment a displeased look with eyes that spit fire had to suffice - and it surely was enough to have his advisers sweating. "She's taking her time," he noted.

"She will come. We promised to hear her out."

Zuko repressed a sigh and went back to waiting.

He didn't know how long he had waited exactly when the doors opened and a woman stepped inside. No-one rose to greet her but that was really only because Zuko didn't recognise her for an embarrassingly long time.

The woman standing in front of him was tall and slender, her long curls tumbling freely down her back. She was wearing blue because of course she was, a short-sleeved tunic rimmed with fur and a long skirt with slits up to her hips over tight pants and boots. He counted four waterskins strapped to her broad belt and he gulped. The expression on her face was familiar and strange at the same time. It belonged to another time. A time of war that had ended ten years ago he never hoped to see again.

And yet, there it was and there she was of all people. "Katara!" he blurted out completely undignified before he could stop himself.

She turned to him slowly and there was only the tiniest gleam in her eyes as proof that she recognised him as anything other than the Fire Lord. "Hello, Zuko," she said with a voice that made the blood freeze in his veins, "nice of you to show up."

His expression froze on his face, mirroring her own. "Out," he ordered curtly. "Everyone." He heard the displeased grumbling of his advisers behind him shuffling uncomfortably where they knelt. "I won't repeat myself." That finally got them moving. "Not you!" He barked at the governor. This was his mess. He would solve it, too.

When the door shut behind them Zuko took a deep breath. For want of better ideas a deep breath was always a sound choice. Then he turned to Katara, his enemy, his friend, his saviour whom he hadn't seen for four years. "So, you are the leader of the rebellion," he stated calmly.

"I am their spokesperson. No more and no less."

He nodded grimly. "Your demands, Master Katara."

"Your majesty," the governor piped up, "I am not sure this is the right way to go about this situation."

"You agreed to her presence, now you will listen to her point of view. Please, Master Katara."

Without missing a beat, she started speaking: "We demand the immediate delivery of food, drinking water and medicine to end the prevalent crisis that threatens the livelihood of law-abiding Fire Nation citizens. We also demand a plan to be set up in order to solve the humanitarian crisis and rid the island of its economic emergency. Furthermore, we demand an end to the institutional violence executed by the brutal regime that is the Fire Nation legal code. And lastly, the removal of Governor Yozin from any position of power for incapacity. Permanently."

Zuko suppressed a sigh. That was just common sense. Still it was probably more than he could allow.

The governor's indignant gasp was proof enough for that. "This is unacceptable! I will never agree to such conditions."

"That is no longer your choice alone. Your incompetence to solve this crisis in a reasonable time frame proved this." He fixed him with a glare. "Your position, governor."

"There will be no allowances at all until the violence stops. The rebels were the first aggressors." He pointed at Katara. "She was the first aggressor! A rebel and a foreigner at that!"

"I will be the judge of that once I have heard several reports. Carry on. I want to get this over with."

"Once the violence stops and the rebels are brought to justice, I will gladly provide an economic plan. The rest of the demands lies outside of my power."

"Luckily, they are not outside of mine. I will have to think about them. You may leave now," Zuko told the governor who scurried to his feet in order to escape the tense situation. Once the door shut behind him the tension left Zuko's body and he sighed. "What in the name of all spirits, Katara?"

She chewed on her lip, still very silent. It was disturbing, really. The expression on her face didn't waver for even a moment.

He shook his head. She'd always been stubborn. "Can I at least tempt you for dinner? You look awful." She looked as if she wanted to retort something incredible clever so he quickly interrupted her: "I brought my own supplies. They're getting distributed as we speak."

She took a deep breath, then she fixed her eyes on his. "It would be my pleasure."