#but if you’ve never tried them you are truly missing out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojover · 2 months ago

Text

the subtleties of being in love

summary: kuroo tetsurou is the spider-man. he’s also your best friend. he’s also hopelessly in love with you. between fighting crime and juggling college, kuroo barely has the time to confess his feelings to you. lucky for him, you’ve got him covered. or, five times kuroo tetsurou tries to ask you out, and one time you ask him out instead.

⇢ pairing: spider-man!kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader ⇢ contains: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers au, spider-man au, college au, debatable attempts at comedy, idiots to idiots in love, 5+1 things, profanity, mentions of violence but nothing graphic—please let me know if i’ve missed anything! ⇢ word count: 5.0k

ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF SWINGING INTO A WALL

Kuroo Tetsurou swears he isn’t trying to be stupid.

It’s just that when he sees you, his mouth dries up, the words he want to say get stuck on the tip of his tongue and he can’t force them out no matter what, he feels his brain turn to mush and his legs turn to jelly, and—

You’re laughing. At him.

All because he swung face-first into a goddamn brick wall.

You don’t even know it’s him—he has a mask made out of spandex covering his face, thankfully—but he saw you on the street, talking to the old lady who sells churros next to the sandwich place both of you love. He may have lost all directional sense after that, because one minute he’s watching you gesture animatedly while you converse with the shopkeeper, and the next he slams solidly into the brick-red compound of the building he was supposed to swing over.

At least his webbing is still intact.

Kuroo’s pride, on the other hand? Completely, utterly shattered.

For a minute, there’s silence—a sort of muffled, hazy silence that blankets everyone, the kind that’s impossibly rare to come by in a city which never sleeps—and then every single person whips out their phones and takes pictures, giggling to themselves throughout. It’s not every day Spider-Man accidentally swings into a wall, after all.

Kuroo can already picture the headlines: City’s Masked Superhero Can Fight Aliens But Is Apparently Blind When Confronted By A Gigantic Barricade. Or worse. He can hear J. Jonah Jameson’s voice in his head, bellowing into the cameras, “Breaking news everyone, this just in: Spidey has been caught lackin’! Is he truly good at his job or is he just a farce? We may never know.”

He peels his head off hard brick, contorting his neck to relieve all the cricks, and that’s when he makes direct eye contact with you.

He swears his heart stops beating—but it starts again in less than a second, starts rabbiting around like it always does when he sees you, before settling back down into its regular rhythm. It’s only then that he remembers his feet and fingers are still glued to the wall.

He pries them off, wincing at the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and glances at you again.

You have a few churros in your hand, wrapped neatly in butter paper—no doubt a gift from the old lady—and you have your phone in your hand. He watches your fingers fly rapidly over the screen, notices the slight tilt to your head, the way your tongue pokes out of your lips slightly, the amusement at his mishap still running through your veins.

He hears the ping of the notification through his mask before you even put your phone down.

The letters swim in front of his eyes, on the screen in front of him.

(11:36) You: KUROO!!!! u wont BELIEVE what i just saw!!!! I SAW SPIDERMAN CRASH INTO A WALL LMFAOOOO

Kuroo winces. He should probably tell you that there’s a hyphen separating the words ‘spider’ and ‘man’, but he doesn’t want to burst your obvious elation at the city’s most prominent superhero’s accident. (Despite the fact that you’re the cause for him losing all common sense, in the first place.)

He doesn’t get the chance to form another coherent thought before a yell from below gets his attention. Specifically because it’s your voice.

“Hey!” You have your hands placed on your waist, your bundle of churros tucked into the corner of your arm as you squint up at him. “Need some help getting down?”

Unlike the jeers of the onlookers with their phones still out, you don’t sound malicious at all. You sound genuinely concerned, as though he isn’t Spider-Man, who’s fought off a hundred different villains and rescued the earth from alien infestations. You talk to him like he’s just a regular guy who accidentally swung onto a building and now finds himself in this precarious position.

His chest warms at the thought. “No thanks!” he hollers back. “I’m good.”

He lets his feet loosen up, feels his muscles relax and then he pushes himself off the wall, letting the momentum pull him through a graceful somersault before he lands softly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You ignore the passersby.

“I’m fine,” Kuroo replies. “Are you okay?”

You look at him strangely, and Kuroo can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one who almost broke my nose because I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

Kuroo shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You have a point, he supposes. He clears his throat. “Right, um. Thanks for offering to help me out.”

“No problem,” you reply easily, the corners of your lips rising upwards. “I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t have our city’s best line of defence get obliterated because of a wall.”

Kuroo’s not sure whether he’s supposed to feel happy about the fact that you’re worried about him despite not knowing who he is or if he’s supposed to be embarrassed at you pointing out his lapse of attention.

“Listen,” he begins, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins, run its course throughout his body, and settle at his heart, “do you… maybe want to get some coffee with me? As a thank you. For offering to help.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “I’m not sure that warrants a coffee date.”

“It’s not,” Kuroo hurriedly says, heart thumping erratically, “I swear. I just want to thank you.”

You purse your lips, drawing out a sigh that’s in between contemplation and refusal. Kuroo’s heart sinks—he knows that expression of yours all too well. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man. You’re a great superhero and I’m sure you’re a really nice person behind the mask, but… I’m actually running late for a meet-up with my best friend. I’m sorry.” You shrug apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay, uh—” Kuroo licks his lips— “n-no worries. I’ll see you around.”

“Break a leg, Spider-Man.” You salute him with two fingers. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

He manages a smile, then realises you can’t see it through his mask—and then realises that the friend who’s meet-up you’re running late to is with him, so he’s going to see you again, anyway. The thought makes him smile again, this time wider, and he can feel his cheeks crinkle at the corners.

He stretches an arm out, presses his web shooter and swings onto the top of the building. Maybe he’ll have to deal with you retelling the story of how he crashed into a wall with extreme detail and lots of exaggeration, and Kuroo should probably feel extremely embarrassed about it. Instead, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Maybe he should crash into walls more often.

TWO — THE SUBTLE ART OF ACCIDENTALLY ASKING YOUR PROFESSOR OUT

Kuroo Tetsurou is decidedly fucked.

He’s late—unbearably so—but what else is he supposed to do if a platoon of aliens show up in the middle of his Introduction to Organic Chemistry class and he has to stop them from blowing up the president’s summer retreat? Once the situation is wrapped up and the foreign visitors agree to sign a peace treaty with earth, he’s effectively missed three classes, skipped lunch, and is currently running late to a study session you planned out after classes.

He supposes he can make up for it—he’s not sure how, but… something is better than nothing, right? He swings down in front of a flower shop, hurriedly asks for a bouquet and a box of chocolates, places a wad of money bills on the counter and swings away. The whole interaction takes place in less than fifteen minutes, but Kuroo is in a hurry. He has a slew of texts from you, all detailing the same thing: That if he doesn’t magically appear in the next ten minutes, you’re leaving, and you better make it up to him somehow.

Kuroo touches down on the rooftop of your university’s library and quickly removes his Spider-Man suit, stuffing it into his backpack and shouldering it. He heads down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time, and comes to a standstill in front of the Biology section of the library. It’s the least crowded part of the library, which is why you and Kuroo have chosen it as your designated spot.

He sees you immediately and braces himself for the telltale quickening of his heart. You smile at him as soon as you spot him, raising a hand in greeting. Books and sheets of paper are scattered around the table in front of you, and your hair is messy, swept up hastily. You’re wearing your favourite sweater with the coffee stain down the front, because even though it’s not something you would wear in public, it’s still the most comfortable piece of clothing you own.

Kuroo’s lips curl upwards on their own accord. The words form on the tip of his tongue, as they always do. He wants to tell you—he’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you—and it would be so easy to confess right then and there. He walks towards you.

Fate is never kind to him, it seems.

Kuroo keeps his eyes fixed on you, which is why he doesn’t notice his Organic Chemistry professor walk right across him.

In his defence, Professor Suzuki is short, with a head full of bountiful grey curls and a pink flower-patterned umbrella always tucked underneath her arm. She barely comes up to Kuroo’s shoulders, so she’s never in Kuroo’s line of vision unless he’s sitting down.

It’s no wonder he collides into her.

Professor Suzuki lets out a startled “Ooh!”, the stack of papers in her hand flying out of her grip and falling around him and his teacher like snowflakes on a winter morning. She twists her lips at him, mouth downturned like she just sucked a lemon raw, and tuts disapprovingly at him.

Kuroo feels his cheeks blaze as he bends down and gathers all the loose sheets of paper and stacks them. He doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re gleefully watching the whole encounter. He tucks the bouquet and chocolates into the crook of his arm and hands the stack of papers to Professor Suzuki, mumbling an apology.

“Well, you better be sorry,” she says, looking up and down at him—except she has to crane her neck at him to meet his eyes, and the sight is so hilarious, Kuroo needs to stifle his laughter. Then her eyes narrow in recognition, and Kuroo stiffens, dread pooling in his stomach.

She pauses for a minute. “Aren’t you the young man who ran out halfway through my class? Is your stomach feeling better now?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you snort and then cover it up as a cough.

Kuroo wants to melt into the floor, pretend like he’s one of the tiles on the ground. “Yes ma’am,” he answers politely instead, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Hmm.” She scrutinises him carefully, reaching out with her free hand and pinching his stomach. “Indigestion is a serious issue, young man. Make sure you have enough ginger in your diet—it helps with your toilet problems.”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Now, how do you plan to make up for your lost lesson?”

Kuroo licks his lips. “I’m… not sure. I could come over for a remedial class—”

“Oh, please. You insult me.” Professor Suzuki lets out a giggle. “Remedial classes are such mediaeval methods. These days teachers will let anything go for a small price. Young, handsome men like you especially…”

Kuroo nearly chokes on his own spit. “I—”

“Just some flowers and chocolates will be fine,” his teacher waves him off good-naturedly, as though this is a conversation she has all the time. Her eyes land pointedly on the flowers and the chocolate box still tucked safely in his arms.

“Oh. Um.” Kuroo curses his luck. He’s Spider-Man, after all—shouldn’t he get some slack? All he wants is to ask you out, and if not that, at least spend some time with you without getting caught up in outworldly situations all the time.

Professor Suzuki’s expression turns serious upon noticing his hesitation. “Of course, not every teacher is as lenient as I’m being. Some would—and I’m really just throwing it out here—assign compensatory essays, or—”

He hurriedly shoves the bouquet and the chocolates into Professor Suzuki’s waiting arms.

“No, ma’am. Thank you very much for being so kind to me.”

“Not a bother, not a bother,” she waves him off again, smiling thinly at him. “Anything for my students.”

Kuroo bows and waits patiently for her to skitter away from him, finally letting out a loose breath that has his shoulders slumping forward and his head hanging dejectedly. He drags himself to your table, places his bag on the desk, and buries his head into his arms in such a way that half his upper body is spread-eagled across the wooden desk. A tired, muffled groan escapes his lips.

“Rough day?” Your voice is soft, and you tentatively reach out and gently run a hand through his hair.

Kuroo lets out another groan in response, closing his eyes when he feels your touch. He lifts up his head and props his chin on the desk, glancing at you. You have a soft smile playing on your lips, eyes twinkling.

“You recorded all of that, didn’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question; Kuroo has all your tendencies mapped out in his head, and you would never pass up on an opportunity to record his humiliation.

“Yup.” You grin at him, patting your pocket where your phone is stowed away. “I won’t show it to anyone, don’t worry.”

It’s a small consolation. He decides to let it slide. “By the way, the flowers and the chocolates were for you. To apologise for being late.”

“Oh.” To Kuroo’s surprise, you sound… bashful, almost. His heart skitters at the revelation. “That’s alright. I’m not a big fan of flowers anyway. Are you hungry? You skipped lunch, too, didn’t you? We could go get some ramen.”

“That sounds good.” Kuroo smiles wearily at you. He just hopes there isn’t another national emergency to divert his attention from you and the time he gets to spend with you.

THREE — THE SUBTLE ART OF ALMOST DATING YOUR HOMIE

If Kuroo Tetsurou has been Tokyo’s one and only Spider-Man for the past two years, then Bokuto Koutarou, his roommate, is his designated Guy-in-the-Chair.

He’s the only one who knows about Kuroo’s secret identity, and Kuroo relies on him to make up some believable reason for his often and sudden disappearances. The last time, when he had to escape in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class and that whole debacle with Professor Suzuki took place, Bokuto had said Kuroo had indigestion. He assumes his roommate has fun coming up with excuses. As long as his secret remains safe, Kuroo’s not too concerned.

Despite all the help Bokuto has provided him with, he wants nothing more than to toss him over their shared apartment’s balcony.

For the past half an hour, he’s been consistently badgering him. Specifically about you.

“Have you told her you like her yet?”

The question drags a tired sigh out of Kuroo’s lips. He’s hunched over his Physics textbook, scribbling down notes, and he could really appreciate some peace—but that’s not something he should expect when he lives with the human equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

“No, Bokuto,” he reiterates, “I haven’t had the time.”

Bokuto flops dramatically across the couch. “Dude. You need serious help.”

“Do I?” Kuroo murmurs absent-mindedly, wondering how to calculate the coefficient of friction with the variables he’s been given.

“Yes.” When he notices his roommate not paying attention to him, Bokuto rolls his eyes. “Stop doing homework, you have more important matters to attend to.”

Kuroo finally tears his tired gaze away from the numericals printed out on the page. He locks eyes with Bokuto, barely aware of the tic in his left eye. “Like what?”

His roommate throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Like your best friend! And the fact that you’re in love with her!”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t going to work. C’mere.” He gestures to Kuroo to come sit next to him on the couch. Once he makes his way to the couch and sits next to him, Bokuto takes both his hands in his. “Consider this an intervention.”

Kuroo leans back and lets his head fall against the couch cushions. This is going to be good.

“Okay, so,” Bokuto begins, “she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man—no one knows that except me—but you love her, don’t you? Just walk up to her, tell her you can show her something she’s never seen before, swing her up to a rooftop somewhere, and watch the sunset with her. Tell her you love her and that you can’t live without her, and your heart beats only for her—trust me, girls love romantic stuff like that—and then tell her you’re also Spider-Man. Easy.”

All Kuroo can do is laugh. There’s no way Bokuto is serious about this.

“I’m being serious,” Bokuto says. “How long are you going to keep hiding this from her? She’s your best friend, don’t you think you should tell her that you’re basically in mortal peril every other day?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling her,” Kuroo says. “What if some villain finds out she’s special to me and does something to her to get back at me?”

His friend looks dubious. “You really think that could happen?”

“Yes.” Kuroo turns his head to look at Bokuto. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you either.”

Bokuto chews his lip thoughtfully. “I kind of see what you mean. But…” He squeezes Kuroo’s hand once, gently. “I think she would want to know.”

Kuroo considers it—for a brief half-minute, he actually thinks about it—and then shakes his head. “It’s better to keep her safe.”

You have the worst possible timing. (Perhaps it’s Kuroo’s fault for having given you a spare key to his apartment.)

The door swings open and you walk into the living room, two bags of takeaway in your hand. “Guess who’s got food!”

Then you pause, survey the situation in front of you, and your jaw drops.

Kuroo and Bokuto, both on the couch, sitting so close to each other, their knees are brushing. Kuroo’s hands are still being held by Bokuto, the latter rubbing circles on his palm. Belatedly, Kuroo realises what this must look like to you.

He shoots up to his feet. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh my God.” You raise your arms. “Am I interrupting something? I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Bokuto and I, we’re not—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Your repeated reassurances don’t do anything to assure him. “You guys look good together! Congratulations on graduating from cherry boy university, Kuroo!”

Kuroo lowers his head, crimson creeping up his cheeks. He turns around and faces Bokuto, who’s busy snickering on the couch. “This is all your fault.”

You look between them curiously. “Are you both dating?”

“No,” Kuroo says at the same time Bokuto says, “Possibly.”

He glares at his friend. “No, we are not together. Bokuto knows I like someone else.”

“You like someone else?”

There’s the barest hint of hurt in your tone, a slight hitch in your voice that Kuroo picks up on easily. “I—yes.”

“You never told me.”

Your voice is carefully calm and you fiddle with the handle of the takeaway bags. Kuroo winces; he takes a step forward and grabs your elbow, gently forcing you to look up at him. “I was going to tell you. I just… forgot.”

It's the worst possible excuse he could come up with. Your eyes harden. Thankfully, Bokuto swoops in. “He’ll tell you soon. He just never has good timing.”

You poke your tongue in the inside of your cheek. “It… doesn’t matter. I brought Chinese,” you say, lips pursed into a threadbare smile, “so all that’s left is to pick the movie.”

You move into the living room and playfully poke Bokuto’s legs to make space. Kuroo closes the door behind you, a heavy feeling in his gut.

He’s fucked up. Big time. No matter what, he can’t get the look of dejectedness on your face out of his mind.

Kuroo decides he’s going to tell you. Somehow. Even if you don’t return his feelings, at least he’ll be free of the burden of keeping them hidden.

With new conviction in his head, he strides over to where you are.

FOUR — THE SUBTLE ART OF GETTING HIT ON

Kuroo loves you—he really does—but despite his obvious affection towards you, he still thinks you’re acting slightly (read: extremely) delusional.

“A… Spider-Man love blog?” he asks weakly, sitting opposite you.

“Yeah!” You nod your head vigorously, obviously excited. “J. Jonah Jameson started a Spider-Man conspiracy theory blog, so I figured I need to start a blog to support Spider-Man and all his endeavours. Too much hate is a bad thing, and… well, he is kind of hot. Objectively speaking.”

Kuroo doesn’t know whether to grimace at the fact that J. Jonah Jameson started a page on conspiracy theories about him, laugh at the fact that you want to start a blog to support him, or melt like an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon at the fact that you just called him objectively hot.

He tries to do a mixture of all three. You glance at him, concerned. “Did you just have a stroke or something?”

Kuroo purses his lips together. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you say dismissively. “Well, what do you think of the blog idea?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Kuroo agrees. “It’s like a little Spider-Man support group.”

“Exactly!” you agree, perking up even more. “That’s actually a really cool slogan, thanks Kuroo.”

“No problem.” Kuroo feels his mouth dry, but before he can second guess himself, he says, “Hey, you said Spider-Man is hot?”

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know who else is hot?”

“Tom Holland?” Your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh, I know! Andrew Garfield!”

“No—I mean, yes but—” Kuroo heaves out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

You cock your head to the side. “Who do you mean, then?”

He takes in a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. “I was talking about—”

He’s about to say you when the fire alarm rings. You stand up, eyes widening—not with excitement, but with panic flaring up inside you. Kuroo stands up too; how did he not notice something was off? The hair at the back of his neck tingles. He needs to get you out of here—now.

“Hey,” he says hurriedly, “you need to leave. Go out the fire escape.” He shoves you none too gently towards the fire escape, but you stumble forward and then stop.

“Kuroo,” you say, and he can hear the mounting fear in your voice, “what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assures. A series of bangs follows his statement, and he narrows his eyes at the direction of the sound. “But you need to leave. Now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but when you hear a loud clang echo down the stairwell, you close your mouth and run towards the staircase. Kuroo waits for you to disappear from his sight, before turning on his heel and grabbing his suit from his bag.

God, supervillains really have the worst timing. All Kuroo wanted to do was tell you he thought you were hot, too, but that he found you more beautiful than anything else.

FIVE — THE SUBTLE ART OF EXPOSING YOUR CRUSH

Kuroo is so, so tired.

He lands in front of a small, quiet lake in a park you used to come to with him. The ambience is perfect for when you want to spend time alone, in solitude. A family of ducks paddles gently over the water; it’s peaceful and serene—completely unlike the destruction he just had to deal with, and the turbulence currently running through his mind.

He pulls his mask off his head and runs a tired hand through his hair. Wearily, he sinks down onto the grass, feeling the cool breeze caress his skin and the rustle of the leaves of the giant tree under whose shade he’s sitting.

He blinks once, slowly, and then again, and when a duck lets out a quack, he opens his mouth and lets everything spill out, like sand pouring through an overturned hourglass.

(He’s aware he’s talking to ducks. He doesn’t care.)

“Screw this shit. I never wanted to be a hero, you hear me? I never wanted to be bitten by a stupid spider, I didn’t ask for all this—I didn’t ask for all this! God, what does a guy need to do to have some time to tell his best friend he’s in love with her?!”

His rant falls on silent ears—but then, he hears the crunch of dried leaves, and he whips around.

Your head pokes out from behind the tree trunk. “Kuroo?”

“Oh,” he breathes out, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”

“You said you’d be right behind me!” Despite the false bravado in your voice, he can hear how wobbly you actually sound.

“I-I was. Technically.” He takes a tentative step towards you, one arm stretched out placatingly.

“You never told me you were Spider-Man!” Your voice increases in pitch steadily with each word.

“I didn’t tell you to protect you—”

“Oh my God, you were in mortal peril every day and I didn’t even know!”

“Bokuto said the same thing, but—”

“Bokuto knew all along, of course he did!”

“I only told him because—”

“And—and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me!”

“Okay, I wasn’t telling you, I was telling the ducks, but—”

“Kuroo!” You throw your hands up in the air wildly, gaze roaming rapidly across his face. “You’re in love with me!”

He sucks in a breath sharply. “I feel like that’s not the most important thing here.”

Of all the ways he thought he would confess to you, this is decidedly not something that crossed his mind even once. He’d always pictured flowers, holding your hand, maybe even a romantic stroll down this very park. He’d certainly never imagined you’d find out about both his secrets on the same day—all while he was busy ranting about his hero complex to a bunch of birds who didn’t pay him any attention.

“Please,” he tries again, “please let me explain.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s nothing there to explain.”

With that, you turn away and walk past him. Kuroo’s heart sinks. He crumples the material of the mask in his hand, feeling the cloth twist underneath his fingertips just like his heart twists into knots with every step you take away from him.

PLUS ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND

You have Kuroo cornered, your arms crossed across your chest and your expression stern. “You need to listen to me.”

Kuroo gulps. It’s been a week since he accidentally let both his secrets slip, and this is the first time he’s talking to you in person since then. You’d sent him a text with a simple message. Library, first thing after lunch. Kuroo had complied, and here he is now.

“So. Bokuto explained everything to me,” you say.

“He—he did?”

You glance at him shortly. “Yeah, he did. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me about—about your condition, Kuroo. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he replies immediately. “If I found out my best friend was a secret vigilante risking his life every day, I think I’d react the same way.”

You smile at him then, and his heart jumps inside his chest. He smiles back. “But that’s not the main reason I called you here,” you continue. “What I really called you here for was…”

You trail off, looking down, and Kuroo is hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia. Why are you being so bashful around him all of a sudden? “Was…” he gently prompts.

You swallow, lifting up your chin and looking him in the eye. “I wanted to tell you that I’m in love with you too.”

Kuroo Tetsurou swears time stops, and the whole world comes to a standstill. The words ring in his ears, echoing inside his head. His lips part, and he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“I— Say that again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

He sees the flicker in your eyes, notices how you’re ready to compete with him for this. “I love you, Kuroo Tetsurou. I don’t care about the fact that you’re Spider-Man.”

Kuroo takes a step towards you, holding your shoulders gently, like you’re made of glass. “I love you too.”

You grin at him, your own arms encircling his waist and coming to rest on his back. “I know that.”

And then you tip your head forward and capture his lips with your own. He gasps at first, before kissing you back with equal force, one hand tugging you closer to him and the other curving around your torso.

You giggle into the kiss, and Kuroo’s lips twitch upwards. He’s giddy, weightless, floating through the air like a feather being carried by the wind. The feeling he gets when he’s swooping through the rooftops of the city is nothing compared to the feeling of your lips slotted against his and his arms wrapped around you.

Kuroo Tetsurou swears he doesn’t try to act stupid normally. But if it makes you smile, he’s willing to do anything.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou

2K notes · View notes

xximperioxx · 29 days ago

Text

One of me is cute, but two though?

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (not proofread)

Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY) age gap, swearing, fluff, established relationship, poorly written explicit smut, p in v, the slightest bit somnophilia, breeding kink, cockwarming?, female anatomy, male anatomy, unsafe sex, (let me know if I missed anything) MDNI 18+

Notes: pls be gentle with me this is my first time writing smut like this and Im so inexperienced it’s not funny. Enjoy the Sarah Paulson meme I put in there. Also I’ve been blown away by the love my work has recent gotten and I truly appreciate it. Anyways enjoy <3

Gif cred: @xxdrixx

———————————————————

You don’t exactly remember how you and Dr. Robinavitch got together. It started out with stolen glances and innocent touches at work and a kiss outside your apartment when he walked you home one night.

Today was busy and you were ready to go home. Except it wasn’t even noon yet.

You sit down at a computer with a huff. Your feet silently thanking you for a break. The sounds of the ED ringing in your ears as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. Your leg begins to bounce out of habit and your eyes look around the busy hospital.

Santos takes a seat at the computer across from you. She gives you a small smile. You return the gesture before your eyes look back at the computer and stare at the time. All you wanted to do was go back to Robby’s apartment and cuddle on the couch with your sweats on. With how this day was going the dream of your Friday night plans were beginning to fade away. Is an easy day so hard to ask for?

Collins catches your eye as she tries to soothe a crying baby. Robby tells her something before she carefully hands the child to him. Your eyes immediately gravitate seeing your boyfriend gently rocking the fussy infant. You perk up, now sitting up straight. If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen you don’t know what was. The two of you haven’t brought up the conversation of kids just yet.

You knew he was getting older and while you were still young, you weren’t sure of motherhood just yet. You’ve seen the horrors and heartbreak of childbirth in this hospital but you’ve also seen the light it brought to people. When the tears of pain turn into tears of joy. You’ve always imagined having a family but you never had a timeline. That was until you saw your man holding a baby right then.

You feel yourself grow hot and your pulse quickens. Suddenly, images of a future as a family with him flash through your mind. Being pregnant with Robby by your side, gently rocking your child to sleep, getting them ready school in the morning. You want it. All of it. God you wanted to climb like a tree right here.

The attending can feel someone’s eyes on him. His eyes search the room before they land on yours. His gently shushing comes to a stop. He gives you a confused look, not able to read your expression. Your lustful eyes soften as your face flushes from enamorment. You love him. You shake your head silently telling him it’s nothing.

He gives you a smile that says ‘I love you’ but a look that says you’ll be talking later. He continues to softly shush the infant in his arms before going to find the mother.

You don’t hear Collins approach the desk. She follows your gaze and lets out a laugh, “You okay there, Doc?”

Santos doesn’t look up from her computer, “She’s been like this for 5 minutes. Making bedroom eyes at Dr. Robby.”

“I think my body just had a physical reaction.” you joke.

Santos grimaced, “I don’t need to know about that. You keep that to yourself.” Collins lets out a snort as you scoff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let out a yelp as a hand pulls you into an unused room. The person pulls you into them. Out of reflex you start resisting. Which ends up to be you sadly hitting their chest.

“It’s just me– stop hitting me. Hey!” Robby grabs your hands, stopping you from hitting him more.

Your eyes widen in shock, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Surprised turns to annoyance. You glare at him, “Why didn’t you just leave me a note like you normally do?”

He lets go of your hands and lets out a laugh. You try to fight turning your scowl into a stupid grin at his laugh.

His hands slither around your waist, pulling you flushed against him, “Is it so wrong for me to want a spontaneous moment alone with my beautiful girlfriend.” You roll your eyes as your hands reach up to rest on his chest.

He leans down and his lips meet yours for a gentle kiss.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, “We really need to get you trained on self defense because whatever that was earlier– was sad.”

You hit him again.

“Ow!”

You shut him up with a quick kiss, “Don’t be a wimp. I didn’t hit you that hard.” He grins.

His thumb sneaks under your scrub top and grazes the bare skin. Subconsciously, you feel your body shiver at his cold touch and lean into him closer. He smirks down at you. “What was with that look you gave me earlier?”

Your eyes look up at him with innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A pinch causes your hips to jerk. His fingers caress the area. You sigh and nervously play with his stethoscope around his neck. “It’s dumb.” You mumble.

He gives you a displeased look, “Trust me it’s not.”

You purse your lips and can feel your heart beating faster, “When you were holding that baby,” the image pops into your mind, “It made me realize I want that with you. Like really, really badly.”

Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at you, not expecting that.

His face softens, “You want a baby with me?”

You nod.

“I want a family with you too.”

Your hands reach up and pull him down for a searing kiss. He kisses you back immediately.

The two of you slowly pull away to catch your breath.

Robby placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you.”

Your face turns red at the thought of earlier. You laugh and hide your face in his chest. “Michael, I wanted to fuck you right then and there. It was so embarrassing.”

His laugh rumbles his chest. “So that’s what that look was.”

Your groan comes out muffled from his chest.

“Well, how about tonight when we get home,” his thumbs start tracing your skin again, “We can work on that. Plus, you’re ovulating…”

You pull away with a scoff, slightly amazed. “How the hell do you even know that?”

He shrugs, giving you a sheepish grin, “It’s the doctor in me…and the boyfriend in me.”

A knock interrupts you two. Dana’s voice rings out, “Robby! We got a teen. Respiratory arrest. ETA 2 minutes.”

You both pull away from each other. Robby runs his hands down his face before they drop to his side. He sighs.

You lift your hand to his cheek and bring his face to yours.You press a kiss to his other cheek. “I love you.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before walking out to prepare for the coming case. You pull out your phone for a minute, not wanting to make it obvious you were in the room with your attending alone.

You walk out of the room, mentally trying to prepare yourself for what’s to come for the rest of the shift. A body waiting outside the door scares you. Dana.

You greet her with a shy smile, “Hi, Dana.”

The charge nurse gives you a knowing smirk, “Hi, kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby waits outside the hospital by the bike rack with one AirPod in. He focuses on McVie’s bass while ‘The Chain’ plays in his ear, blocking out the thoughts of his shift. His eyes follow the headlights of the cars passing the building.

You see Robby standing with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. As if he could feel you coming, he looks up to meet your tired eyes. He greets you with a faint smile.

“Sorry, Collins stopped me on my way out about one of my patients.”

You didn’t want to tell him that the actual conversation was. It was just Collins leaning into you in passing with a “I hope it sticks tonight” ,a cheeky grin, and thumbs up for luck. All while you gaped at her.

You reach for his hand as you begin the walk to his place. Like most days when you and Robby share the same shift, the two of you walk to his apartment in comfortable silence. Robby normally listened to music to clear his head as you paid attention to the night life of the city.

Robby opens the door to his apartment and walks in after you. After dropping your bag at the table, you walk over to the door and take off your shoes. Out of the corner of your eye you see Robby walking over to you with a smolder.

He goes to reach for you but your hand stops him, “We are not doing anything until I am out of these scrubs and we have food in our stomachs because I know you didn’t eat anything today but a granola bar.”

Robby sighs in disappointment and you let out a snicker. He opens the fridge and pulls out leftovers as you grab two plates out of the cabinet.

The two of you eat while sharing conversations about positive things about your shifts. He brings up working with Whittaker as you share how your cases with Santos went well.

After you both finish, Robby picks up both of your plates as you start putting away the food you didn’t eat, “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

You wave him off and he gives you a quick peck on the lips before you start working on the dishes. After a bit, the kitchen is now clean. It had been a mess since this morning when the two of you left in a rush for work. You finish washing your hands before throwing the paper towel in the trash. The water had stopped a while ago and figured Robby had gotten ready for bed.

You make your way to the bedroom and find Robby sitting against the headboard in his boxers with a book in his hands. He glances up at you, his readers resting on his nose,“Thank you for cleaning, honey.”

He reaches his arm out to you. Walking over, you lean down and give him a quick kiss. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be quick.”

You come out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, wearing Robby’s bathrobe and some spare panties you had in the apartment. Rummaging through his dresser for a shirt, you feel Robby’s eyes on you. You laugh, “Stop looking at me like a teenage boy.”

“I can’t help it.” You glance down at the bulge growing in his boxers.

He motions you over and you immediately follow. You climb over him with ease, now straddling him. He notices your dilated pupils and how your breathing deepens. His calloused fingers trail from your thighs up to your hips.

Your eyes move from his eyes to his lips once more before leaning down and capturing his lips with yours. He kisses you back feverishly.

His fingers quickly untie the robe. He slips it off you and tosses it across the room. You let out a whimper as his hands immediately grasp at your breasts. Your kiss gets interrupted by your phone ringing from the other room.

You shake your head, “Ignore it.”

He leaves kisses down your neck. His teeth scraping, leaving you out of breath. You subconsciously begin to grind your hips. He lets out a groan before gently biting down on your pulse point.

His fingers push aside your panties. “Fuck,” He choked a groan feeling how wet you were.

You let out a whimper as his fingers collected your wetness. His thumb gently brushes against your clit. You fall into him with a gasp.

Your ringtone interrupts you again. You pull away with a sigh.

Robby’s hands rest on your hips. “Go get it. It could be important. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. ” you nod before he gives your hips a squeeze as you get off him.

You quickly grab an old junky shirt from his dresser. Your footsteps pad against the hardwood to the kitchen and you pick up your phone. You see two missed calls and a message from your mom. Call me.

What you thought was an important call ended up being 15 minutes of your mom trying to catch up and you repeating you would call her tomorrow. The ‘call me’ was just to tell you that she and dad got a new dog. You wanted to slam your head against the wall.

You come back into the bedroom with a snort, ready to tell your boyfriend what happened. You stop to find him asleep leaning against the headboard with his mouth slightly open. Soft snores fill the room. You let out a quiet laugh.

You turn the light off by his bedside and carefully take off his reading glasses before crawling into bed with him. You aimlessly scroll on your phone, looking at social media.

You don’t feel him shift, his head finally sinking into his pillow, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You roll onto your side and face him.

“For being tired after a long shift?”

He grumbles and you snuggle into him with your head laying on his bare chest. “It’s okay, I’m tired too,” you reassure him while stifling a yawn. He lays a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You both fall asleep within minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up in the morning you were expecting it to be the smell of coffee and not your boyfriend copping a feel. Your eyes flutter open to see Robby’s fingers carefully massaging your breasts under your shirt, gently pinching your nipples. All while pressing kisses down your neck.

His hardened cock rubs against you. You let out a tired laugh before turning to face him, “Well, good morning to you.”

He gives you a boyish grin. He watches as you climb on top of him. In the same position as last night. “Good morning, hon.”

Your fingers graze his bulge before giving it a squeeze, “You weren’t joking about trying for a baby right away.”

Robby shakes his head while biting his lip trying not to moan. Noticing the damp spot on your panties, his rough fingers brush against your clothed clit, “Not wasting any time.”

You let out a whimper. “P-Perfect.”

He slides your panties down and you awkwardly take them off before he takes his boxers off. His cock springs against his stomach. You lower your hips. Robby grips your hips once more and you gently begin to move. Your slickness now coating his thick member as your pussy slowly rubs up and down. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a muffled moan when your clit brushes against his tip.

Robby throws his head back, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, “if you keep this up. I-I can’t cum in you.”

You nod. You don’t think you can form a sentence right now. Your body was on fire. Your hips lift as Robby guides himself to your entrance. You let out a whine at the same time Robby lets out a breathy moan as you slowly sink down on him. Every inch stretching you as if it’s your first time together again.

You slowly begin to move your hips up and down as you ride him. After a few seconds you feel yourself grow tired and slow down. Robby lets out a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh. I’m doing all the work, old man.” His fingers find your clit and gives it a soft pinch. You let out a shaky gasp. “Don’t be mean.” You warn.

Your hands scratch at his chest as his hips begin to thrust up meeting yours. The sounds coming from his mouth edge you closer to finishing.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Robby warns with a grunt. His hooded eyes staring at your blissful face. His thumb rubs small circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Michael- baby,” you whine as he speeds up his thumb motion.

After a few more thrusts, Robby cums inside you with a guttural moan. Your release follows shortly after, loudly moaning as you feel him cum. Your hips continue to grind, riding out your bliss.

Suddenly, you feel heavy as your orgasm bliss wears off. Your muscles screaming at you. Panting, you tiredly slump on top of Robby. He gently rubs your back still inside you. The two of you even your breathing.

You lay in comfortable silence as you listen to his heartbeat. Robby draws shapes on your back. The sun peaks through a crevice of the blackout curtains.

“I feel good about that one,” you joke, “Having two of me will be a handful for you.”

Getting a second wind, Robby flips you both over. Now smirking down at you on your back, “We should keep trying…just to be safe.”

#hbo #dr robby #dr robinavitch #dr. robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt #the pitt fic #the pitt imagine #the pitt x reader

1K notes · View notes

lqveharrington · 3 months ago

Text

Perfect Replacement | R.L.

summary: Remus begins to worry about your well-being after seeing you act much differently than before.

pairing: remus lupin x Black Family!reader

includes: use of Y/N, mentions of abuse (both mental and physical), unfair treatment, bullying, cursing, allusions to receiving the dark mark, burning out, angst, smallest bit of fluff (lmk if i missed any!)

a/n: lowkey, this one was sad and requested by someone a while ago… i’m swamped with my own school work so this was a little vent fic for me :)

From the moment you were born, Orion and Walburga knew what you were meant to be—what you would always be known as. You were the Black Family’s spare. If Sirius or Regulus was injured in a way magic wasn’t enough to heal them, you were the person they tore open to find missing parts. You were nothing but a tool.

Worst of all, they refused to recognize you as even part of their family. What they wanted was a male heir and—being the first born before Sirius by mere minutes—you ruined their lives. Sure, the legacy would’ve still been able to continue with Sirius, but Walburga and Orion were furious when they saw a girl be born into the Black Family.

It was always your fate to be their spare.

When you were old enough to attended Hogwarts, they were quick to dismiss your presence. You were no longer theirs to care for as long as you stayed there. Hell, they even called Sirius—who was sorted in Gryffindor—back for holiday while you—who was sorted into Slytherin—stayed at Hogwarts with the school's staff.

However, they learned that Sirius was no longer fit to be the heir of the Black family. So they did what they did best—throw you into the deep end with no safety. Instead of letting Sirius get away with his stupidity, you were to take over his responsibilities until Regulus was suited to become the heir.

You were constantly watched to ensure perfection. It didn't matter if you were the top of your class or not—you had to maintain the role of the perfect heir. The useless heir. Coming home every summer just to be scolded at was never ideal, but you tried. You pushed through all the extracurriculars until you couldn't feel the weight of pressure on you anymore. You just kept going.

You kept pushing and pushing until the worst thing happened at home.

Sirius left. He left you and Regulus with your wretched parents. He left you with more scars than you could count that you swore he didn't care much for you either. It truly was you against the entire Black family—with little help from Regulus whenever he wasn't being trained to be the Black family heir.

“Letter from mother.” Regulus tossed the cream envelope in your direction, unaware of how closed off and fragile you became since Sirius left.

You peeled the envelope open and did a quick scan of the letter, humming at the usual demands from you. Nothing new. “I need to go study, Reg. I’ll see you later."

“You'll come find me for lunch, right?” He grabbed your wrist like he would when he was younger, alarmed that his whole hand could wrap around the joint with ease.

“I need to study for my NEWTs.” You give him the best smile you could muster, making your steps quick as you left the Great Hall. You loved your younger brother, but your parents would have your head if they found out you were talking to him rather than studying for your final exams.

You swiftly looped around the castle corridors—potions, charms, and transfiguration textbooks in arm as you made your way toward the astronomy tower. No matter how many times you’ve studied in Hogwarts’ library, you found it easier to work in the tower. The library was filled with all kinds of students—even the ones who weren't there to study.

Just as you made a sharp turn to the tower stairs, you slammed into someone more than half your size—all your books and parchment scattering to the floor. Immediately, you apologized and rushed to grab the papers and books, face warm with embarrassment when the person handed you your quill your cousin Narcissa bought you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you.” You clutch the books tighter to your chest and move around the figure, unaware that it was one of Sirius’ friends.

The one who watched you were a careful eye since you hopped onto the stool with a worried look in first year.

The Marauders were scattered about their dorm. Peter was munching on some kind of bread, Sirius was hanging upside down in his bed, and James was on his usual session about how Lily was the most perfect girl when Remus walked in with an unreadable expression.

James slowly came to a stop before tilting his head at the lanky boy, tossing a pillow in his direction. 'What happened at the library, Moony? Madam Pince refused to let you check out anymore books?"

Remus ignored James and caught the pillow with a swipe of his hand—his attention only on the curly-haired boy in front of him. "Padfoot, do you know what's going on with your sister? She looks like she might be ill.”

Sirius froze at the mention of you, ultimately falling from his spot on the bed. He rarely saw you back at home that he didn't know anything about you anymore. At least, not as much as he knew about Regulus.

“I… I don’t know.” He admitted and ran his fingers through his hair in guilt.

“You don’t know?” Remus repeated in disbelief. He didn't think that when Sirius left, he would forget all about his twin sister. She looked exactly like him—only now, she looked like she could break with one wrong touch. "She could be seriously sick—"

"Look, I'll get Regulus to ask her what's wrong." Sirius crossed his legs and frowned when Remus still looked unhappy. "What?"

"We both know you won't willingly talk to your brother." He said and stood from his spot, mind running through different scenarios as to why you looked so malnourished—why you were so malnourished.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at his best mate, "Why do you care so much about my sister?"

"Why don't you care more?" Remus scoffed and left the dorm, leaving the rest of the Marauders confused with his sudden interest in the Black's eldest child.

Though Remus cared little for the Black family, he knew you never wronged anyone. In fact, he believed you were Sirius' foil. When Sirius was off pranking someone with James, you were always studying for your next class. When you weren't studying, he found you speaking quietly with Regulus in the Great Hall. You were so quiet and reserved that Remus refused to believe you were Sirius' twin for so long.

He rarely spoke to you, but he knew something was definitely wrong. And he would get to the bottom of the issue.

“Miss Black, you need to take care of yourself. Your brother is concerned for you—“

“He should not be concerned for my wellbeing. Instead, he should be concerned about his grades in Care for Magical Creatures.” You huff and push away Madam Pomfrey’s wand from your arm, tugging your robes over your body in a rushed manner. “I am perfectly fine and need to get back to my studies before the night takes away all the light.”

You leave the hospital wing and glance at your watch, silently cursing yourself for wasting precious time on a silly check up Regulus insisted you get. Although—you had to admit— you were too exhausted to make the trek up the astronomy tower to study. So instead, you made your way toward the library instead, the candles in the corridors lighting your path to the quiet space ahead.

Finding an open table, you get to work as quickly as you can. You flip open you defense against the dark arts textbook and begin your studies, hands shaking and eyes blurring with how exhausted you were. Willing yourself to push on, you started to mutter the words you read, unaware of the brown-haired boy looming beside you.

“You’re not casting a spell, are you?” A voice spoke from your right, causing you to jerk in surprise.

Lifting your head up from the book, you meet warm, brown eyes, the feeling spreading across your chest before you pulled your attention toward the book once more. You couldn’t get distracted, not when you were running out of time before the holidays.

“No.” You answer truthfully before continuing to mutter about the three unforgiving curses, each one worse than the last. You’ve encountered two out of three of them and you prayed you never had to witness the last.

Right as you went to turn the page, the person moved to sit in front of you—your eye twitching in irritation. This was your spot for the rest of the evening and you would like to not be distracted by… whoever this person was.

Huffing, you flip the page in frustration and speak once more. This time with annoyance. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to study for—“

“I see that.” The mysterious figure pulled out his own book, raising his brows when you nearly looked up from your book to see what he was reading. So close. “I’m here to merely observe. You are the top of our graduating class.”

“Incorrect.” You keep a shaky finger on the last word you left off on, finally taking a proper look at the boy who decided to distract you. “I’m tied with…”

“You don’t want a tie?” Remus rested his head in his palm, hiding a small grin at your shocked expression.

You swallow thickly before going back to your book, refusing to acknowledge his presence for the rest of the time. It wasn’t like you were intimidated or embarrassed by the boy. You were just confused and stunned by him. Why was he suddenly interested in you when he stuck so close to your twin? Perhaps your mother or father sent him as a spy—but he was a half-blood, so you doubted that was the reason.

Remus sighed and began to read Jane Eyre, occasionally glancing in your direction. He noted that you were still here mentally—well, as far as a mere five minute interaction goes—but your physique seemed way off. Though you weren’t as tall as your brothers, you were a hell lot paler and way too ill-fed to even look remotely related to them.

By the time Madam Pince kicked the both of you out, Remus memorized the way you looked and stored it for later data. He thought that you would snap under the weight of all the textbooks and parchment you were carrying. He also swore you memorized each of the textbooks—catching you repeatedly murmur the different facts you learned over your hours of studying.

But as Remus went to turn toward the Great Hall, you continued to go straight down the corridor—worrying him. “Black, you’re not coming to have dinner?”

You stop walking and hesitate before settling on your normal excuse. “I’m not hungry.”

“You studied for over two hours. Surely a snack or even just water—“

“Lupin, I’m fine. I don’t need—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, a familiar voice rang out clearly. A voice you haven’t heard since he left you all alone.

“Moony! There you are! We’ve been looking for you.”Sirius clapped Remus on the back, unaware of your presence. He never truly acknowledged your being—you assumed he learned it from your mother and father. “Where were you?”

Remus’ eyes darted in your direction after the initial surprise from Sirius faded, but you were already fleeting down the hall—Mary Jane’s echoing with each step.

“Just…” He paused and shook his head, directing his attention back to the younger Black sibling and following him into the Great Hall. “Studying.”

Unfortunately for you, it became Remus' habit to constantly be around you when studying. No matter where you went to study—whether it was the damn astronomy tower or back of the library—he found you. It became impossible to hide from him and you knew you were losing valuable time studying if you spoke to him.

So you just stopped.

"I brought chocolate today." Remus spoke, finding you by the edge of the Black Lake. "A piece offering."

Your eyes briefly flickered up to meet his and glanced at the chocolate, but you immediately fell back into reading, making him frown. You were frustrating him just a tad bit. It was the day before holiday break and you decided to spend your time on the freezing grounds studying than inside with a cup of hot tea doing something else—he wasn't even close to figuring anything about you.

You were just a ghost of a person.

“Lupin, I can’t focus.” You whisper as you felt his gaze on you, frustratedly reading the same line over and over again.

Remus muttered a quick apology and went back to War and Peace. But he couldn't focus. All he could focus on was the sound of you shaking underneath all the layers of clothes you had on. He pursed his lips and sighed, removing his own overcoat and draping it over you.

Freezing at the sudden warmth enveloping your figure, you meet his brown eyes and give him a smile that could be noted as a grimace. "Thanks..."

He hummed and took a bite out of his chocolate, letting you read for a couple more minutes before speaking once more. "Do you plan on studying over the holidays as well?"

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek. Were you going to spend your entire holiday studying? "Depends on mother and father. They might coupe me up in my room and make me study all holiday. Or they may decide to finally let me join in opening gifts with Regulus—not like I'll get anything."

It took you a second to realize what you said to the boy sitting beside you. Honestly, you didn't know what he was doing to you.

Remus' eyes narrowed at your confession the second you covered your mouth with a shaking hand. You were never supposed to talk ill about your parents or you family—especially not to some… to a Gryffindor and half-blood!

“I-I have to go.” You stutter and quickly gather your things, rushing back into the castle without another glace toward Remus.

When you came back from the holidays, you looked even worse than before. Remus took one look at you and knew something went down back at the Black house. Although you did look more fed then most days, the circles underneath your eyes were more prominent and instead of rolling up your sweaters like usual, you wore them normally.

What happened?

But Remus wasn't the only one to notice the changes. For once, Regulus noted the changes in your demeanor. Rather than using your time to study for charms or transfiguration, you began to read books on the dark arts. The textbooks that once belonged to Bellatrix were passed down to you, causing Regulus to do his own digging into your sudden change of studies.

“What're you reading Trimbles' book for?” Regulus asked quietly as you pushed food around your plate, gaze locked on the ink in the book. "Did Bella get through to you about the dark arts?"

You subconsciously touch your left arm and bite your tongue. You could say it was your cousin's fault for she was the one to suggest you become one of them anyway. Yet you would never speak ill about her—you supposed it was her way of showing she cared for you.

"No, it's just interesting."' You clear your throat and stand from your spot. "Finish breakfast, I'll see you later."

"You didn't touch anything on your plate." Regulus frowned and stood up as well, following close behind and grabbing your left arm. "What are you hiding from me?"

You winced and quickly pulled away, "Nothing, Reg, leave me be."

"I can't do that! You're my sister and I care about you—"

Quickly finding your way out of a conversation you didn't want to have, you weaved your way in between the Gryffindor boys that deemed themselves as the Marauders, subconsciously grabbing Remus' hand and dragging him with you.

“Hey—!” Sirius gaped at his best friend being stolen from him, earning a glare from his younger brother.

“Fuck off, Sirius. Something’s wrong.” Regulus quickly spat out and chased after you and the lanky boy.

Sirius' eyebrows knitted together before letting out a loud sigh, following his brother to wherever you were taking Remus. After all the time he spent away, you and Regulus were still important to him—even if he rarely showed it.

"What's happening?" Remus stumbled into an empty classroom and glanced at your heavy breathing figure, face twisting in confusion as you leaned back on the wooden door in exhaustion. "Why were you running?"

"I didn't mean to pull you with me." You rub your face and wander over to a desk, sitting in the chair as your thoughts swallowed your mind. "I just needed an escape from Regulus. He can be nosy."

Still confused, Remus simply nodded and sat at the desk opposite of you, wincing when he heard Sirius' shouting from outside the class. You let out a quiet laugh at your brothers' bickering before those laughs quickly turned into quiet sobs, shoulders shaking from the weight of emotions packed into each one.

"Oh." Remus murmured and patted his pockets down, taking a bar of chocolate and snapping a piece off. “Eat, it’ll make you feel better.”

You wipe your tears and look down at the chocolate, your stomach growling at the lack of food you’ve eaten today. Sniffling, you take the chocolate and nibble on it, unaware of Remus’ smile.

“Better?” He asked softly, biting into the chocolate himself.

There wasn’t an answer from you, but he knew it helped somewhat—your tears subsided and all that could be heard was your occasional sniffling and hiccups.

Remus had so many questions he wanted to ask you yet he knew it wasn’t his place. Though only one really stuck out to him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

You purse your lips and fiddle with the loose strings on your sweater, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know.” You say truthfully. But before Remus could say anything else, you continued—eyes shut because to you, the confession was quite embarrassing. “Maybe I just got used to you always being there and I…” You drop your head into your hands and sigh loudly, “I trust you more than my whole family.”

He raised his brows but made no effort to say anything else—knowing you had more to say.

“You care for me in a way my siblings will never understand.” You murmur and peek between your fingers to find him slouched over to hear you clearly. “I can’t… I can’t tell you anything about what happened at home.” He opened his mouth to protest but you stopped him. “But I’ll consider keeping the odd friendship you chose to start.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at you and—for a brief moment—he wanted to refuse. He wanted to know what was happening, why you were more conscious about how you dressed. Yet he couldn’t find himself wanting to object your offer. If he could keep a close eye on you like this, so be it.

“You’ll tell me in due time, alright?” Remus gave you the rest of his chocolate bar, noticing the way you tugged your sleeve down once more.

“If it’s fitting by then.” You give him a weak smile. “Besides, I think I can still be the top of the class without you. After all, I am the perfect replacement.”

2K notes · View notes

lighting-and-shadow · 10 days ago

Text

Ikigai, Part 5

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6

You awake to Sylus next to you. You aren’t cuddled up in his arms like you were a few days ago. Rather, he cradles one of your hands in his. It’s surrounded in his warmth.

You’re half tempted to keep it that way, to soak in this little moment because you know that odds are you won’t be getting many of these in the near future. You ignore that part of you and carefully remove your hand from his.

He tries to resist, even while in deep slumber (the man’s always slept like the dead since you started regularly sleeping in the same room). It’s adorable, like he can’t bare to let you go so much that it shows up in his sleep. You smile down at him drowsily.

You move your other hand to stroke his hair. Sylus thankfully doesn’t stir awake. You need this moment to yourself. Because while you’re still hurt by his words, you’ve missed his touch. You’ve missed the quiet moments of intimacy the two of you would have with each other daily.

Somedays you’d curl up on one of the couches as you’d read a book to him, either because he was being lazy that day or because it was in a language he didn’t speak (you learned many languages during your time in the auction and wandering about). Others you’d just sit in the living room together, him disassembling and reassembling a gun while you cut a jewel he got you from a client. On rare occasions, you’d dance with him and the twins early in the morning playing some obscure vinyl record.

Small moments were what made up you two’s relationship. Small moments that mean the world to you. You twirl a lock of his hair on your finger, just letting yourself relax.

Sylus’ stirring shatters the quiet scene. You jerk your hand away as fast as possible. Seeing those crimson eyes again just reminds you of what he said.

“Have you awaken, sleeping beauty?” You tease.

Your voice is hoarse. And Sylus quickly moves to grab you some water. You take small sips, surprised by how abused your throat feels.

I wasn’t asleep for that long, was I?

Sylus, sensing your confusion, whispers, “You were screaming before you passed out.”

You flush at his words. Screaming? You don’t remember doing that.

You stare down at the cup in your hands. Despite Sylus’ gentle tone and expression, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed. Having a mental breakdown was bad enough. But screaming your lungs out to the point of hurting your voice? That was just pathetic.

“Maybe I finally cracked under the weight of my foolish boss and his many messes?”

Your words are meant to be light-hearted; they do the exact opposite. Sylus’ face falls, and you watch his thread thrash like a wild animal. It’s alive with a storm of emotion. And you caused it.

The more vengeful part of you is satisfied by this. He’s caused you so much turmoil over the past few days. A little pain could do him good. He’s lied to you, and broken your heart. Not that he knows the latter or how deep the former goes.

Because despite working and being with Sylus for so long, you’ve never told him the truth. Not about your abilities nor about your past. Sure, you’ve told him bits and pieces, little stories about your childhood and what you did for work before Onychinus. But not the hard stuff.

You’ve never told him about the depth of the abandonment, of the betrayal of so many. You’ve never told him how far your loneliness runs. You’ve never told him that you have no soulmate. You’ve never told him what you could see.

You’ve wanted to. Many times, in fact, have the words almost slipped past your lips. But you’ve never let them truly fall out. Because why would you tempt history repeating itself?

“You changed my clothes?” You break the tension with a silly question.

The large, fancy black shirt smells of him. Of his cologne, and the unique scent that is Sylus. It clings to your skin. You love it.

“We both know mine suit you better, Gamayun.”

His voice isn’t as steady as usual. It trembles.

“Are you insulting my preferences?”

You turn to him.

“No. Just saying that mine will always be better.”

He looks at you with a soft expression. His hands drift to yours, fingers encircling your wrists and allowing the rest of your hands to sit on his palms. His eyes never leave yours during this. He’s studying you for any discomfort or any sign of you not wanting his touch. As if you ever could.

When you accept his touch, his eyes light up. The smile he gives you melts your heart.

“Keep telling yourself that foolish man.”

It’s a beat of silence between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, Gamayun,” you almost don’t hear what he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Sylus’ head is bowed to you. He looks so small at the foot of the bed. You want to reach out and hold him, cradle him in your arms and let him be safe there. Just like you did the first time you two got drunk together and just talked about your pasts.

You think that was the moment you started falling for him: when you realized there was someone just as lonely and broken as you. Him, the last fiend, and you, the only person to ever be born without a soulmate. Him, blessed with the power to see people’s desires, and you, cursed to see the love which you can never have.

It’s poetic. And it hurts. It hurts how perfect you are for one another, but the universe decided against you two.

The feeling of Sylus’ eyes on you reminds you that you haven’t responded to his plea. He doesn’t reach out to touch you. It feels strangely empty. But you suppose it’s best you get used to this now rather than later.

“I don’t accept,” you force out.

You turn your head away from Sylus. Seeing whatever expression he has on his face now will weaken your resolve.

“Oh,” the small sound Sylus lets out is beyond painful.

“Yes, “oh,”” you dig your heart’s and your relationship with Sylus’ grave further with each word out of your mouth. “Did you think a simple apology would make me happy?”

Under normal circumstances, yes. If Sylus had said practically anything else to you during your argument, than an apology probably could’ve soothed you. But he said those words, those cursed words. The words that’ve torn through so many of your relationships. The words that rendered promises meaningless and time worthless.

He said those words. And thus, you don’t have it in your heart to forgive him.

“You can’t smooth this over like usual.”

Sylus wilts the more you speak. The large, imposing, figure he stouts shrinks upon your every word. You keep your eyes away from him, as if ignoring him will make the pain of what you’re doing soften.

“You’ve betrayed my trust, Sylus,” you say his name firmly as a reminder to yourself and him to not waiver and keep the boundary you’ve set up. “You’ve betrayed it in such a way I didn’t think you of all people could.”

Saying it aloud makes the hurt fresh all over again. It makes you go back to all the times where you’ve been in this position. All the times where people you thought cared for you hurt you the second they found their soulmate.

And the more it hurts, the more you laugh at yourself. You knew this would happen. You knew the second you fell in love with him this would happen.

But you still act like a victim. You still hurt the man you love because he committed the simple crime of loving his soulmate instead of you.

“I just need you to trust me on this. Please. This will all be over soon.”

Over because he’ll leave you, that dark, annoying, voice in your head whispers. Over because he’ll abandon you like all the rest.

“It is you who doesn’t trust me, Sylus. That’s how this all started. You didn’t trust me, which caused my trust in you to waver. I do not need to do anything for you.”

“How can I fix this?”

“Telling me the truth would be a start.”

He says nothing. You fall apart every second he doesn’t speak.

Why? Why are you so willing to protect her?

You ask the question despite knowing the answer: because soulmates are everything. You’ll never compare to her.

“Than can you even say you’re truly sorry? Or are you just trying to appease me?”

“Of course not. You know I never say anything I don’t mean.”

“So you meant to use those words exactly? You meant to shut me out? You meant to permanently warp our relationship?”

“That’s not what I—“

“Than what did you mean, Sylus?” You spit out his name like it’s poison; he flinches like you stabbed him. “Because that’s what I think you meant. We had a deal when I came to work for you, with you. And you broke it.”

Sylus whipped to face you. He has a wild look in his eyes, and his lips begin to quiver. It’s as if he can guess your next words.

“You gave me your word that you’d never lie to me. You promised me. And yet you’ve done exactly that.”

You take a shaky breath before you land the death blow, “I have every right to walk out of here, right here, right now.”

Sylus’ hand zip out to grab you by the shoulders. He forces you to face him. You could almost cry from how scared he looks. There’s an almost feral glow in his gaze, like the dragon he once was is bleeding into view again but just through his eyes. As if you’re some important piece of his hoard and someone’s trying to take you.

It burns you to do this to him. Because abandonment and loneliness is something the two of you bonded on. But broken trust is also something you bonded on. And he broke yours. And he’ll continue to break it for her.

“You either tell me the truth, or….”

“Or what?” Sylus sounds choked up, as if he’s about to cry.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll leave. Or maybe I’ll just stop being your Gamayun. I haven’t decided yet.”

You try to breath to steady yourself, your entire body vibrating with that one inhale, before finishing, “But none of that will happen if you just tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth. What I have with her and what I have with you cannot be compared.”

You say nothing more. You knew that; by God, you knew that. But it still hurts.

Why?

Why is he so willing to go so far for the woman who killed him? He’d risk you, his partner, for her. Lie to you. Hurt you. Betray you.

Leave you, a voice in your head says.

But not her. Not his killer. He’ll protect her no matter the cost. But you? You’re nothing. You’re nothing compared to the woman that he let take his life. Would he do such a thing for you?

No.

He knows she killed him. Murdered him. Shoved a claymore deep into his chest and ripped his life from him.

But he still loves her.

How could you possibly compete with that?

You quickly sit up further in Sylus’ bed to swing your legs to side of it. You needed to get up. You couldn’t stew in these thoughts any longer.

“Where… where are you going? Why are you running off?”

“And what would telling you accomplish? You have your secrets, I have mine.”

Sylus pulls back as if you’ve burned him. It’s a low blow, sure, but you’re no longer in a state to care. You just need to get out. So even though all you wear is his shirt, undergarments, and loose shorts, you leave the room. A brief glimpse of the closet you share with him reminds you that you’ll have to move your stuff soon.

Wouldn’t do good for Miss Hunter to see that. She’ll misunderstand.

Just like you’ve misunderstood. You’re not his. He’s not yours.

Author's Note: sort of comfort (?) next chapter. Not from Sylus though...

Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

I'm so fucking mean.

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

#sylus x non mc reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #sylus x mc #sylus qin x reader #sylus x non!mc reader #sylus angst #love and deepspace x reader #ikigai

409 notes · View notes

faux-ecrivain · 1 year ago

Text

Yan Idol

(Third official post)

Yan idol who used to be your best friend, the two of you used to be so close, but then he was recruited into stardom and suddenly he spent less, and less time with you.

Yan idol who changes his entire personality, appearance and habits (on request of his manager), until you can’t recognize him.

Yan idol who pushes you away in favor of his famous peers, he reschedules your hangouts and brushes you off.

Yan idol’s popularity grows and so does his ego, at first you two have simple arguments. (he didn’t do his half of the chores, he didn’t pick you up from work, those sort of things) Then he starts to berate you, insisting that he was never truly your friend and only hung out with you because of pity.

Yan idol who regrets those words the moment he says them, trying to repair your friendship with faux apologies. But it doesn’t work, you kick him out of your house, you tell him that you never want to hear from him again.

He relents, saying it doesn’t matter as he storms out of your house, and tries to avoid his luggage as you throw it onto the yard. The two of you have a shouting match, then he’s ushered away by his manager (who had heard of the commotion via paparazzi).

When he’s safely hidden away in the car tears begin to fall and the guilt he feels fully sets in, the days pass and he tries to reconnect with you. But you reject his calls, you blocked his number and you won’t answer any letter he sends you.

Eventually his manager has had enough and tells Yan Idol that he needs to move on, that if he doesn’t start to focus on his career then he’ll be let go.

Yan idol who relents, giving in to his manager’s demands and trying to forget you. (It’s difficult, everywhere he looks he’s reminded of you.)

Yan idol who, after many months have passed, has somewhat successfully put you out of his mind. (He’s made different friends, friends within his tax bracket)

However this all changes when he sees you at a meet and greet, you’ve come with some friends, you don’t seem happy to be here. But you’re here and everything he ever felt for you comes rushing back.

He smiles (brighter than he ever has) when you and your friends approach his booth, when you and your friends are standing in front of him and you look at him. It’s almost like you recognize him, but then you look away. (Why did you look away? Don’t you recognize him? Don’t you want to be with him again?)

He tries to get your attention, but you tell him you don’t want his autograph, that you’re only here for your friends. (You definitely recognize him, you just don’t want to admit it. He thinks you’re just scared, you’re worried that he’s still upset. But he isn’t, he just wants you back, that’s all.)

Yan idol who makes the impromptu decision to invite you and your friends over (to the manager’s chagrin).

Yan idol who incapacitates your friends and then kidnaps you.

Yan idol who’s overjoyed to have you back in his arms, he holds you close and ignores your pleas of freedom.

Yan idol who continues performing as though nothing changed (somehow he managed to avoid being charged for the incapacitation of your friends, and the police are encourage to ignore any reports of you missing)

Yan idol who continues to gain popularity with every concert he puts on, then when it’s over he comes home to you, and acts as though the two of you were married. (Despite how much you struggle and fight)

Yan idol who’s blissfully ignorant of your anger and frustration, who interprets your actions and attempts to escape as a way of expressing your betrayal towards him.

Yan idol who promises that he’ll never leave you again, that he’ll always be here for you.

(Not my best work, but not my worst work. Either way, enjoy this short fanfic and feel free to comment.)

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #my Writing #yandere idol x reader #I’m gonna name him Shin.#Enjoy this brief fanfic!#third official post #not my best work #soft yandere #Shin my oc

5K notes · View notes

stevebabey · 2 months ago

Text

toothache

summary: Steve gets his wisdom teeth removed. You dote from his bedside, even if, post-anaesthesia, he seems to have completely forgotten you’re his girlfriend.

[3.6k + established!relationship + fem!reader]

There’s a faint beep from a machine tucked in the corner, but other than that the room is quiet.

As quiet as it can be, at least. Hospitals are never truly silent, you think. The whole building hums with the coursing thrum of rushing doctors and the buzz of fluorescent lights; a hive for busy bees.

Steve’s room is decently tucked away from any of the busyness of the some of the more frantic floors, thankfully.

Occasionally, a nurse does a round and you spy them walking by through the slats in the blinds. But besides that, it’s just you and your twiddling thumbs to keep yourself company until Steve wakes up.

The nurse who’d let you in left maybe 20 minutes ago — about how long she said it would take for Steve to wake back up. You don’t have a watch on, but the room has a big clock that ticks silently, the second hand juddering around the clock face.

You’ve been watching it, waiting to put said twiddling thumbs into action the moment Steve stirs.

And if you’re not keeping track of the time, you’re studying your boyfriend’s face.

Steve looks a bit silly and a bit lovely all at once.

He’s out cold in the hospital bed and his cheeks are stuffed with cotton, making him resemble a chipmunk, to stem the bleeding in his mouth. His face is lax and his cheek is slightly squished against the pillow.

There’s a touch of drool from the corner of his mouth. Well, just a touch is generous of you to say.

You’d wiped it away initially, doting and caring, but Christ almighty, he’s definitely out cold. It’s a river of slobber.

Your search for tissues was futile and after the second time you’d wiped it with your sleeve, you decided the pillow is soaking it all up just fine.

He must be on something really strong. Deep roots, the doctor told you whilst explaining why Steve was under so much anaesthesia.

Your lips purse worriedly as your eyes roam over his face. You hope the whole procedure won’t hurt him much.

Steve’s been through the wringer these last couple years, so much that one would expect something as minuscule as a wisdom teeth removal shouldn’t warrant too much worry — except it has the opposite effect on you. Left on your own, your worry grows exponentially.

You eye the clock again.

How long since that nurse left again? How long before Steve’s been asleep for too long? He's had one too many concussions, which you did tell the doctors about, but maybe they missed something. Maybe you should hit the call button anyway.

The clock ticks forward.

A nurse passes by the window.

On the bed, Steve’s fingers twitch.

A breath of sigh presses its way out your lungs, warm relief flushing through your chest, and you reach forward to click the call button in an instant. You’re on your feet quickly, crowding in closer.

The cool bar of the bed presses into your upper thighs as you reach across it to hold Steve’s hand.

Evidently groggy, Stave’s eyelashes flutter open. You’d think he looks like a Disney princess if his mouth wasn’t gaping open and drooling with blood. He groans, long and languid, reeking of pain and the subsequent painkillers.

Before he's even opened his eyes, he's shifting about. The muscles in his neck tense as he tries to lift his head.

“Hey, hey," You speak softly, thumb rubbing gently across the back of his hand. Your other hand brushes against his forehead, urging him to lay back down. "Just take it easy there, tiger."

Steve makes another gravelly groany noise but relents against your touch, sinking back into the pillow in one magnificent slump. His eyes are open, hazel peering at you curiously as he blinks slowly.

"Wuh?" He manages to say, his jaw barely moving.

Despite how you try to resist, an endeared smile pulls at your mouth.

They did say he would be a little dopey when he came to. You're just now finding out how dopey that means.

Glancing at the door, you wonder how long you should wait before hitting the call button again. You're pretty sure Steve, proactive as ever, is gonna start pulling the cotton out of his mouth as soon as he realises its there.

"—Wuh 're 'ou?—"

To Steve, perhaps, those were real words. You're not entirely sure what he's meant to say, though you hazard a guess he's asking who you are.

In the same moment you go to answer, Steve's eyes drift off to the ceiling, unfocussed.

He raises the hand you aren't holding and bumps it against his jaw, then releases a long, drowsy owwwwwww in response.

Are you gonna lose good girlfriend points for laughing at this? Your lips purse together once more, this time buttoning in your laughter.

You rescue Steve from himself, reaching out and grabbing the other hand before he can prod himself in the face again.

"Wah 'appened?" He says, his eyes sluggish as they drag back over to you. It looks like it takes immense effort and you reward him with a loving squeeze of his hand.

"Your wisdom teeth, baby. You got them taken out."

Steve's eyebrows rise at a snail's pace, his face slowly forming an astounded expression.

"My teef?" He says, baffled. "'Ey took them?"

He extracts his hand from yours, raising it back up as if he's going to search his mouth for the very missing teeth.

You capture it midway up, tugging it back down. "Careful, you don't wanna touch it again. It'll be very sore."

Steve, bamboozled by just how exactly his hand rapidly changed course, takes a long moment to register your words. He blinks, one eye at a time, like a frog.

"Ow?"

You can't resist a little grin, nodding. "Yeah, baby, ouch."

That seems to get the message across. Steve doesn't try to raise his hand again, however, instead he realises that you're holding both of them. He's very unsubtle, half-lidded eyes peering down the bed with a suspicious squint to them.

Then, very slowly, he begins to pull both his hands away.

You let him do so, amusedly releasing your soft grip. Maybe hand-holding — usually one of Steve's favourite things — isn't so nice when you're high as a kite. You only want your boyfriend to be as comfortable as possible.

Except, when you glance back up at Steve's face, the narrowed, suspicious gaze is now directed at your face.

"Y'ur nice." He slurs, the compliment completely at odds with his sceptical demeanour. His hands are still pulled to his chest, tucked up awkwardly. "'N gongeous. But—"

He manages to raise one finger up straight, the only movement of his hands.

"Am—"

The end of his sentence is stolen by the hiss of the door, pushed open by the same nurse from earlier. You didn't catch her name.

She's a nice looking woman, dressed in green scrubs, and she smiles upon seeing Steve up and awake on the bed.

"Why hello there, Steve," She greets casually, sidling up to the other side of Steve's bed with a clipboard in hand. "How are we feelin'?"

Steve's turned to face her but you can see the clear hesitation in his face, evidently searching for any hint of recognition.

The hands held up against his chest sway a bit. Steve blinks slow.

"Who 'r 'ou?" He repeats the same question he asked you in the exact same cadence.

The nurse smiles at that, which is a nice way of letting your anxiety know you're not allowed to be too worried.

"I'm your nurse, Marissa. We met a few hours ago before your surgery. Do you remember that?"

It's a careful probe, seeing just how much Steve's recall is working. He thinks about it real hard, eyes staring in the distance as his tongue poking out a bit in concentration, before he moves his head in a way that's probably a no.

"That's okay, Steve. Everyone reacts a little differently to general, but it shouldn't last longer than a few hours." She reassures him.

The clipboard in her hands has a few pieces of paper clipped to it and she flicks through them. You sort of wish you had Steve's hand to hold, just to comfort yourself. The bar on his hospital bed will have to make do.

When Marissa speaks, she glances over at you, talking to both of you. "Looks like everything went to plan, no hitches or issues. You'll be free to take him home in another 20 minutes or so—so long as nothing crops up."

You nod, grateful to hear that. Though, you're not looking forward to wrangling your loopy boyfriend out the door and to the car when he's in this state.

"Thank you very much." You express the gratitude for both you and Steve, knowing he's hardly thinking of manners at the moment. He'll thank you for it later. "I did have a—"

"—pssssssst."

You stop talking at the abrupt interruption, both you and Marissa surprised by Steve's interjection.

His attempt at a psst doesn't quite work to the normal effect and instead, he's painted his bottom lip in a bit of blood.

He's looking at Marissa, not you. One of his bunched up arms raises up to his mouth as though he's trying to cup it and hide his words. You resist the urge to pull it back down, worried he'll knock his jaw again.

Marissa, sharing a playful glance in your direction, smiles kindly at Steve.

"Yes, Steve?"

"Can 'ou tell th' nice lady," He's trying to whisper but failing miserably. "That I'm.... I'm..."

Steve scrunches up his face to try to think of a word. He regrets it quickly, another hissed and sluggish owwww leaking out as pain radiates through his face.

Your fingers curl tighter around the bar. It takes effort not to reach for his hand again — or jump in and ask Steve what he wants to say to you. He's clearly trying to be stealthy for a reason, even if it isn't working.

Marissa's pager beeps. She flashes a quick look at it, silences it, then turns back to Steve.

"I'm... 'ot bullshit." He finally spits out.

That surprises you.

Marissa, conversely, seems to be undeterred by such a proclamation. You wonder what else people have said whilst coming back up from anaesthesia. She pats Steve on the arm gently.

"No you aren't."

Steve appears to be bolstered by her agreement, his own head giving a slow nod. He's still speaking in that groggy way, not at all helped by his cotton-stuffed mouth. "Yuh, and I 'ave a— a girlfiend."

Huh?

Marissa catches on a moment before you do, a certain cheek creeping into her smile. She checks her watch, then focuses back on Steve and nods.

"Uh huh, big guy. Your girlfriend's actually here, did you know?"

As her words sink in, Steve's eyes blow wide. He looks equal parts stunned as he does excited.

You realise why he asked who you were and withdrew his hands all at once.

Your smile dissolves into a giddy grin, entirely too endeared by Steve's unbreaking loyalty to you, even if he is barking up the wrong tree.

"S'e is?"

"Yep." Marissa says. She nods in your direction. "And she's gonna take good care of you, alright?"

You wonder if this is the most fun part of her job.

"My girlfien'..." Steve sighs quietly, his eyes hazy. You don't think you're meant to hear it.

Marissa smiles at that and finally begins to backtrack towards the door. She checks her watch again, then says to you, "15 minutes. Then you're free to go."

She waves at Steve as she's disappearing through the door. "I hope you feel better soon, Steve."

Steve makes a valiant attempt at a wave back, but his hand barely hovers above the sheets for a second before he's dropping it back down.

He sighs loudly and a little more blood freckles his bottom lip. He reaches up for his face again and you intercept.

"It'll hurt more if you touch it." You say to explain, then quickly let go of his arm.

It slumps back down and you watch as Steve's face morphs through several different expressions, from frowning distaste to a disbelieving awe.

"Are 'ou..." He asks, slurring out the word. His hand picks up off the bed to curve up, pointing a finger back at his chest. "My girlfiend?"

It comes out tinged with astonishment. You laugh without meaning to.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

Steve struggles to compute your response, given by how his eyes shift away lazily, then slide back to you, still wide.

"Yurrr lyin'," He lolls out the words. He waves one hand up, as if brushing off the joke you're supposedly telling.

"Am not!" You laugh. Then just to prove your point, you reach out and take his hand in yours, cradling it between your palms. "We're pretty serious, baby."

"Yo're 'etty," Steve counters, though pretty comes out strangely as he tries to not move his lips much.

The fact he can flirt back whilst so out of it is a feat, though it proves some of his charisma is just that inherent.

You notice, as he gazes at you, the surprise from earlier has somewhat sapped away but the awe in his face remains.

Steve's hand in yours turns over and he grips one of your thumbs tightly.

"I s'love... bein' a boyfiend," He says, deadly serious. Another roll of dribble escapes the corner of his mouth, yet somehow you're entirely captivated by his small admittances. He loves being a boyfriend.

"'ut dunno if 'mmm good at it. Am I?"

He wants to know if he's a good boyfriend. There's a little wobble in your heartstrings at his genuine concern.

You curl your fingers back around his hand tighter and nod. "Definitely."

Steve exhales a big sigh of relief, his eyes slipping shut as he gives your thumb a half-hearted squeeze.

"S'good." He mumbles.

As you soothe your fingertips over his hand, you hope his loopy mutterings aren't a manifestation of some constant worry you don't know about. It's normal to want to be a good partner. But Steve's own mention of bullshit is enough to make you unsure.

Is this what worries him? Are you not doing a good job at communicating back just how happy Steve makes you?

On the bed, Steve's eyes open again, seeking you out in languid, sleepy blinks. Upon finding you, he smiles. Well, you think he smiles.

What really happens is his face twitches and then he's making another drawn out owwww as he moves around his fresh wounds too much.

"Try not to move too much," You remind him. "It will keep making it ow, baby."

Despite what you've said, Steve continues to shift about—though you realise he's merely trying to inch closer to you. He's twisted a little, his shoulder curving towards you, but his head still laid flat.

"Can I 'it up?"

His speech is clearing up a bit, the words coming out better formed now. You nod at his request and shake off his grip on your thumb to hold his forearms, gently urging him up. It takes a moment, but he manages.

He's curved over like a shrimp, slumped and struggling to support himself.

You quickly stack the pillows behind him into more of a support and lead him to lean back against them. Steve lets you, gripping your forearms tightly as if he's afraid you'll drop him.

One settled, he releases his tight grip and gives another loud sigh. You're not fast enough to intercept his hand this time, Steve raising the back of it to wipe his mouth with.

It comes away with a smear of blood and saliva.

The volume of it must surprise Steve because he's dragging his hand back from his face, that same suspicious squint back on his face. He spots what he's wiped from his face and his eyebrows crease.

"Eeeew."

A giggle titters out of you. Steve is instantly distracted from his gross hand, his expression smoothing out as his head swings toward you.

"Hafta tell you somethin'," Steve says. His head sways a bit unsteadily as he thinks hard.

His groggy gaze draws down and up your face intently and you realise after a moment, he may have just checked you out.

"Yeah? What do you have to tell me?"

Steve nods as though he's the one who's spoken.

"Yea," He murmurs, then holds his hand up like he wants you to take it. It's the non-slobbered one, thankfully. You do take it, resuming the same soothing hold from earlier, this time intertwining your fingers.

Steve does another frog-blink, staring at your interlaced fingers. He drags his gaze up and slurps a bit as he inhales. "There waz... another lady here. But I tol' her. Tol' her."

He nods seriously, staring at you like he's waiting for you to nod along.

Your mouth twists into a poorly restrained smile. You wonder if he's talking about Marissa or if he's forgotten you were the other lady here earlier too.

"Told her what?"

"Tol' her," Steve repeats surely. He squeezes your hand and then shifts, not liking the intertwined fingers. He resumes his hold around your thumb. "I speaken."

Okay, you're getting a little bit better at decoding loopy Steve-speak, but this one? Lost on you.

You wiggle your thumb in his hold and furrow your brows a bit exaggeratedly so he can catch on that you don't quite understand.

"I," Steve slurs. He's moved his other hand up to jab himself in the chest, referring to himself — then he casts it in the direction of the door. "Taken."

It takes a moment, but his gesture is enough to clue you in. Another sugary, giddy wave singes your nerves. God, he's sweet.

You grin at him adoringly, leaning in to brush a piece of hair back from his face. Steve's skin is warm beneath your touch.

"You're told her you're spoken for, huh?" You coo softly, petting his hair back.

Steve preens at your understanding, managing a nod and a bright-eyed adoring gaze at you.

You run your hand over his hair again because he seems to like it and his eyes flutter under your sweet ministrations. His head nearly lolls back to dip into the pillow, but he catches it at the last moment.

"Yuh," He says absently. He nods again, focusing hard on meeting your eye. "Tol' her." He repeats again.

It seems it's very important to Steve that you know he would never ever think about cheating on you — even if it's with, well, you.

"Thank you, baby," You say, meaning it completely.

Steve smiles as much as he can, a sluggish half-motion that somehow makes him look even dopier. His eyes wander and he catches sight of the glob of blood and spit atop of his hand.

His eyes widen almost comically. He frowns worriedly and picks his hand up, holding it out in front of him, "Oughhh, wuh 'appened?"

The genuine concern in his words and his apparent very short-term memory makes it hard not to snort in amusement. Squeezing his hand again, you try to remain composed.

"Your wisdom teeth, remember? They took them out because they were hurting you."

"You're s' nice," Steve says, dropping his hand limply, the blood on it quickly forgotten. His fingers around your thumb tighten, giving another weak squeeze. "'M glad you're my girlfiend."

"I'm glad you're my boyfriend." You assure him sweetly.

"Yea?" Steve's gone back to that slow blink. He leans forward, shoulder hunched over, the whole motion seeming conspiratorial. He tries to whisper again. "Have'a 'nother secret."

Your brows raise. Another secret?

"Wanna tell me it?" You ask.

Steve nods sagely. He beckons you in closer with a limp wave of his hand, tugging slightly on your thumb. You lean in closer, unable to hide your grin at his antics.

"I," Steve pauses for a long, long moment. You watch as his eyes track back and forth sluggishly, very clearly trying to put his rapidly disappearing thoughts into order.

"I t'ink," He finally says, sounding more sure this time. "I lov' you. But shhhhhh. S'itsa secret."

Oh. Now, that is a secret. You and Steve have been dating for a while now, like you said it's serious, but not quite long enough to exchange any I love you's. Not just yet.

Only it's not really secret after all. You know.

You know in the same way you already know Steve's favourite perfume of yours and the way he likes his coffee in the morning. How he loves to hold your hand and doesn't ask, but loves it when you kiss him on the temple.

You've never asked. Enough time spent together and you just know these things.

Like how you love Steve and he loves you.

You grin brazenly, not even trying to stop it now.

"I'll keep your secret safe," You promise him. "Wanna hear one of my secrets? I love you too."

Steve clings to your hand preciously and his face takes on an expression which you can only describe as utterly starry-eyed. His hazel eyes, bright and less foggy now, stare at you owlishly. You'd give a handful of pennies to know what he's thinking right now.

"S'good," He finally says. Which makes you bark in laughter, as if he's saying glad that's settled.

"Yea' s'good." He inhales a big, slurping kind of breath and exhales. His shoulders sit a little more relaxed now and you wonder how long he's been waiting to tell you that.

You wonder more how he'll react when you tell him he spilled the beans while high out of his mind.

Then, just to spoil it — or sweeten it, depending on how you see it — he leans back over and whispers, "Wha's your name again?"

#is this just 3.6k of me wanting to write loopy steve? well yes 🙂‍↕️#so it is just 3.6k of LOVERBOY STEVE HARRINGTONNNN #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #ruby writes steve #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #i actually picked tropes out of a hat to build this <3 tehe #mainly an accidental i love you lol #idk! its just short and fun! i'm figuring out how things go after that nice big fic i posted. we'll see if she flops

812 notes · View notes

starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year ago

Note

hihi!! idk if ur requests are open so ignore this if they aren't!

reader was cheated on so she goes to simons house for comfort. one thing leads to another and hes saying "i bet he couldn't fuck you like this" while absolutely destroying her

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” Simon grunted as he placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “He’s such a damn fool for what he did.”

You honestly don’t know how you ended up here. One minute you found out your boyfriend of 3 years was cheating on you, and the next you were laying underneath your best friend of 10 years as he completely worshipped you.

You should’ve known better, your boyfriend (well ex-boyfriend now) had so many red flags you’d lost count, but you always tried to see the best in people, never truly realizing just how hurt you could end up because of it.

Simon Riley was the one person in your life who was always your rock, always was there for you, always cared for you when nobody else bothered to. He was the only person you wanted to comfort you tonight.

He welcomed you with open arms like he always did, his hugs able to cure any emotion or ailment you may have. You’d cried your eyes out to him, let out all your frustrations into his chest as he held you close.

You never, never expected to end up kissing him, let alone finding yourself in his bed, being utterly ruined by him later that night. It was everything you never knew you hoped for. After the many years you’d been friends with him, you finally realized that he was the one you’d always wanted to be with.

“I don’t deserve you, Simon. You’re too good for me.” You cried out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix after a particular rough jut of his hips. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“You’ve got that backwards, love.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he slotted them against yours. His kiss was gentle, but so full of emotion it had your heart swelling. “I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day I laid eyes on you. I’m a patient man, sweet girl.”

You’d never been fucked like this before, never been worshipped like this. Your body felt weightless, a warm heat spreading throughout your body as Simon’s cock rubbed against your slick walls.

A guttural moan escaped your lips as he increased his pace, the sound of slapping skin filling the room. You felt your high rapidly approaching, as your toes started to curl, and your eyes fluttered shut. He was so fucking good at this.

“Did he make you feel this good, sweetheart?” Simon groaned, his breath fanning over your ear. “I bet he couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?”

You weakly shook your head, your mouth falling open slightly as Simon nipped at your earlobe, his thick length sliding against your walls at a frenzied pace. You’d never felt this full before, this stuffed. It felt like his cock was made just for you.

“That’s what I thought.” He purred, moving to capture your lips in his once more. His tongue darted out, exploring each and every inch of your mouth, committing your taste to memory. “Being so good for me. Can’t believe this is what I’ve been fuckin’ missing out on.”

“Simon.” You chanted, your nails digging crescents into the toned skin of his back. Soft moans and sounds of slapping skin deliciously filling the air as both of you lost yourselves in one another.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Say my name. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.” Simon cooed, his hands lacing with your own above your head as his cock continued to slide in and out of you at a brutal pace. “You are so incredible, love. I should’ve made you mine a long fuckin’ time ago.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, every emotion you were feeling bubbling to the surface. You let your eyes flutter open, your heart skipping a beat as you found Simon looking down at you with complete and utter adoration.

Any self consciousness or self loathing thoughts you may have had before being in your best friend’s arms suddenly vanished, and were now left feeling completely and utterly cherished.

You slipped your hands from Simon’s, and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. You never wanted this moment to end. “I’m yours, Simon.”

“That’s right, love. All fuckin’ mine now. I am going to ruin you for any other man, love. Gonna treat you like the princess you are.”

And he fucking did.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #female reader

5K notes · View notes

godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

Text

A Long, Long Time

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, fingering), light angst, fluff, humor, action, no use of y/n, friends to lovers, post-TFATWS, past Steve Rodgers/Reader, truth serums.

Summary: The truth doesn't hurt. It's not freeing, either. It just sits in your chest, until it's pried out, and you're looking it the eyes with nowhere to run, and Bucky knows you love him.

But he's not running either.

Author's Note: I love making scenarios. I love making Bucky feel loved. Kevin Feige I'm in your walls.

Word Count: 9.2k

You’ve never been good at fighting for things.

It’s not because you’re weak, or don’t care, or don’t have anything to fight for, it’s just not what you do.

Fighting for things means that you’ve already lost them. That you had something, and you weren’t smart or good enough to keep it, and you’d lost it. Failed. Had a chance to do it right and destroyed it, held something in the palm of your hand and crushed it to pieces.

It’s not logical, or reasonable, but it’s what you do. You’d tried to explain it to Steve once, and he’d frowned at you like you were insane.

“If you had it, doesn’t that mean it was worth fighting to have?”

You’d shaken your head, turning your fork between your hands with a long sigh. “No, it means I had it, then… I guess dropped it. If it was worth having, I wouldn’t have dropped it.”

“What if you didn’t drop it?” Steve had raised his brows, and you’d stabbed your fork into your food, almost chewing right through your cheek.

“But I did.”

“How about if it’s indestructible?”

You’d given him a flat look. “Anything can be destructible if you’re destructive enough.”

“Then what if someone knocked it out of your hands-”

“I feel like you’re getting too caught up on the metaphor,” You’d mumbled, and Steve had shrugged.

“It’s just not making sense. You’re saying you had it. If you love something, you fight for it. To keep it.”

You’d hummed. “I thought if you loved something, you let it go?”

“That’s a loose rule. You can’t be letting everything you love go, or else you’ll end up alone.”

Maybe you’d just never loved something. Maybe whatever you’d been told to read as love was wrong, or you’re just defective and not capable of the raw, tear-the-world apart love that Steve had been talking about. And everything falls through your fingers because it can sense that, and fighting for it would be holding it hostage.

“You’re not going to fix me in one conversation, Steven.” You’d muttered, kicking his shin under the table. “Eat your pancakes.”

Steve had sighed, but listened.

Then, years later, he’d gone back in time to Peggy, and you hadn’t bothered to stop him.

You hadn’t loved him, but it had been the closest thing you’d ever had to something. More than just a body for warmth, more than just flat word for the sake of speaking, more than just company for the prayer of not being stranded. For a very long, long time you’d been certain that Steve had been your shot. That you’d missed it because you had horrible aim and sand for bullets, and now you were alone just like he’d warned you’d be.

And you’d been wrong. You’d been so horribly, impossibly wrong, because you’d been right. All the wires and nerves had gotten tangled and crossed in your body, and you’d been right about the wrong thing, and you’d ended up so lost that the sky had gone black until one star blinked at you, and guided you home.

You’d never loved Steve. He’d never been your shot.

And when love had hit you—really, truly fucking hit you—it hadn’t been like the train or comet or blow to the gut people had always told you it would be.

It had been clear. The world had gotten sharper, and colors had been more vibrant, and you’d known.

You’d never been in love before.

You were in love now.

In half a second, you’d fallen into it, and you’d never be able to crawl back out. You didn’t know how to fight for it, but you could wait for it. You could lie here like you were in a grave and wait for flowers to bloom above you, and then maybe he’d pick them and know you’d grown them for him.

Because Bucky doesn’t know that you love him. You don’t know how to tell him, either, because every other time you’ve said it suddenly seems like at lie, and no words are big enough anymore.

And Sam had fucked it. One day you’re going to shove him into the ocean or something, because he’d found you after the Blip and told Bucky you were the girl. The one that Steve had found in a crowd and kept, who was smarter and kinder than someone named Sharon, who they’d been supposed to find and take care of, but gotten sidetracked.

That would’ve been like a noose on your heart, in you’d really heard that part of Sam’s sentence. That Steve had told him to find you and look after you, but then left anyway, only for Sam to completely forget.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been staring at Bucky, and the world had been clear, and you hadn’t been sure if it was a ringing in your ears or some sort of fucked up, heavenly choir.

Maybe it had been adrenaline, in that first moment. You’d told yourself, over and over, that maybe it had just been the rush of meeting him, because Steve had told you so much already.

But then you’d followed them back to New York, and it had been love. It had been long, heavy love that was stronger than anything you’d ever felt, and made you do stupid, pathetic things to just keep yourself in Bucky’s orbit. It started with being whatever he and Sam asked you to be, because you didn’t feel expendable, but you wanted to be irreplaceable. You’d made yourself so useful in every way possible. With research and computers and undercover work where you got to hang off Bucky’s arm and smile at him, and he’d smile back like he loved you, and it was just the job but fuck, it was like a drug.

Being in love had made you smarter, as the months passed. You could do stitches and relocate joints, fly a plane and read in two new languages, and an average hacking job but an outstanding acting one. Your cooking has gotten better, mostly making different kinds of eggs, because it’s something you do with Bucky once a week, and you can play the piano, because he’d mentioned he liked it once.

You were going to rot away here. Loving Bucky in silence and never saying anything, and it would be a soft and gentle death because Bucky does like you. You’re friends, and he’s called you important to him and yelled at you for being reckless, but not wanting you to die isn’t the same pure, wrathful love you feel for him.

But you’re the girl. Steve’s girl. That was left behind and fell into Bucky’s care. That he keeps around for you—some unknown shift had occurred, and you know you’re not being allowed to remain in Bucky’s orbit because Steve asked him to keep you there—but as a friend.

You can be a friend. You can be whatever the fuck Bucky needs you to be, just as long as you’re allowed to stay here.

And being his friend is easy. Doing things for him is easier. Loving him, even in numbing silence, is the simplest thing in the world.

“This is so fucking stupid.” Bucky had grumbled last week, glowering at his paper, and Sam had shrugged.

“I think it’s fun.”

Bucky had shot him a glare. “We’re using glitter gel pens, Sam, you know this is stupid.”

“I happen to like glitter gel pens.” Sam had shot you a grin across the table as he said your name, and you’d narrowed your eyes in a silent warning he’d completely ignored. “Do you think it’s stupid?”

“The pens or the lists?”

Sam’s grin had grown. “Lists?”

You’d shrugged, dropping your gaze to your own blank sheet of paper. “They’re kinda dumb, but I’m still going to do it.”

“See, Buck?” Sam had raised his brows at Bucky’s scowl, then turned back to you. “How about the pens?”

“I like them.” You’d spun yours between your fingers, trying not the feel Bucky’s gaze over your skin. “But I like glitter, and Bucky doesn’t-“

“I like glitter.” He’d grunted, scowling at his own pen. “But it doesn’t belong in pens. It’s impractical.”

Sam had rolled his eyes. “They can write, man, that’s all they gotta do.”

“Yeah, Buck. You have no whimsy.”

You’d smiled at him, and he’d returned it, but it had been the only smile he’d offered for the rest of the day.

But the point hadn’t been to get him to smile. It had been to make him do the lists, because his therapist said it was important, and if he didn’t, he’d be in violation of his pardon conditions again. It had taken a very long, tense afternoon to get it done, but he’d handed his list to his therapist the next day, and you’d kept your crumbled in your jacket pocket since.

And you still weren’t fighting for things.

You think it’s how you ended up here. In this warehouse, your head spinning and everything a little too bright.

You can’t really remember, and this might just be an incredibly odd dream. Your tongue feels loose in your mouth, your skin has an odd buzzing feel over it, and this couch is made of what’s probably velvet, and you’re pretty sure Spiderman is standing right next to you, holding your list.

Your list. He’s reading your list. No one’s supposed to read that list, and you almost broken Sam’s hand for trying, and you know Sam-

“What the- fuck-“

Spiderman looks up at you right as you topple off the couch, his eyes widening his suit.

“Oh, shoot, sorry, ma’am-“

He pulls you back up to your feet, this list still in his hands, and you’d try to grab it but your whole body feels like jelly and mist. Nothing in you but your thoughts, floating around and narrowing in on the list, why does Spiderman have your list-

“What-“ You groan as he sets you back on the couch, closing your eyes to try and ward off the bile rising up your throat. “Why- What is- What happened?”

“Um,” Spiderman’s voice cracks slightly, sounding almost uncertain. “You were poking around where civilians shouldn’t be, miss- And I was looking in the same lab-“

You frown, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. “Lab?”

“Yeah, uh, one of the secret evil government ones-“

“Fuck.”

It’s coming back in small, hazy pieces.

Bucky told you that you didn’t need to do this, but you’d done it anyway. You weren’t recognizable, and you were careful and smart, so you’d be in and out before Sam and Bucky realized you’d gone and the building’s security realized you weren’t there for a meeting.

Something had happened. You’d gotten the evidence you needed, and there had been vial or canister, and you’d knocked it over because your phone had started ringing, and it had been Bucky. You’d think you’d declined the call, or just let it ring to voicemail, but he’d sent you a very angry text seconds later.

He’d noticed you were gone faster than you thought he would. He’d worked out what you were doing, and he was coming to grab you because you were being stupid, and when he’d called you a second time, you’d-

You’d thrown your phone in panic. It had broken the canister. And everything had gone black.

“Do you, uh,” Spiderman clears his throat from somewhere in front of you. “You look like you remember what happened?”

You give a half-nod, letting out a long breath. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my warehouse.”

You open your eyes at that, and Spiderman shakes his head.

“It’s a safe warehouse. Really safe. The safest. You collapsed, ma’am. I couldn’t just, uh- leave you on the floor? Alone? But-“ He looks down to your list, then back to you with an expression that’s somehow nervous through the mask. “May I please ask you a question?”

You can’t really go anywhere. And he’s already read your list, so there’s not much to lose.

“Sure.”

“Does the Bucky from your list have a metal arm? Because it’s not a- uh- I’ve only met one guy named Bucky, and he tried to punch me because we were doing this big fight at an airport, and he had a metal arm, and he’s not- uh- he seemed alright, but it was super complicated, and if this,” he points to your list, his voice growing higher and higher by the second. “Is the Bucky I know, then- uh- Is it?”

“Yeah,“ you let out a long, breath, and something is cloudy over your skull. Your Bucky does have a metal arm. “It is.”

“Oh, okay.” Spiderman blinks at you, then the list. “You, uh- You guys seem close, then. That’s cool.”

For a second, you want to lie. Just say you’re not that close, just co-workers, and Spiderman doesn’t need to be thinking about Bucky because it’s really, totally nothing.

But you can’t lie. The words just die at the top of your chest, and you can’t even bite your tongue and swallow the truth, or you’ll choke on your own spit.

“It’s- I- I love him.”

You’ve never said that aloud before. Not even to the mirror. But Spiderman just shrugs like it’s nothing, and then gestures to your list.

“Yeah, I uh- I worked that out, ma’am. He’s on here like ten times.” Spiderman’s eyes narrow on the paper. “Upstate, where you can see the stars. Bucky’s ass and arms. Candles. My blue vase. The color blue in general. The color brown, too. Bucky’s hair when he actually uses his fucking conditioner. Bucky’s eyes. Bucky when he’s sleepy and his Brooklyn accent slips. Cotton Candy ice cream.” Spiderman looks up at you with a nod. “Oh, that stuff is really good, there’s a place in Queens that makes it, and it tastes like- well, cotton candy-“

“That’s nice.” You mumble. “Can you please- just- I already know what the list says-“

“Right, of course, sorry.” Spiderman pauses, bouncing slightly on his feet. “It’s a nice list though.”

You sigh. “I know. That was the point.”

“To make a nice list?”

“Yep.”

Spiderman sounds like he’s frowning. “That’s- uh- Why? I mean, you don’t have to tell-“

“It was for Bucky’s therapy. He had to make a list of all the good things in his life, so Sam and I did it with him.”

You didn’t want to tell Spiderman that. He’d even been about to say you didn’t have to, but you did. He asked, and if you don’t say the truth, it feels as if all the oxygen will burn up in your lungs.

That can’t be good.

“Hey, kid?” He sounds like a kid. And if he’s not, he doesn’t correct you. He only nods and takes a step closer, waiting for you to continue. “Do you know what I gassed myself with.”

“Um.” Spiderman swallows. “No? But I have a guess-“

“Is your guess truth gas? Because my guess is truth gas.”

“Yeah, it is. I mean, that’s my guess too. You’ve, uh, you’ve been really honest. Not that you’re not an honest person, I don’t know you, but I’ve asked a lot of personal questions-“

You give him a flat look. “You could stop doing that, you know.”

“Uh- Yeah. Sorry. I will.” Spiderman glances over his shoulder, then back to your list. “He’s gonna be looking for you, right? Mr. Barnes?”

“Probably.” You mumble, and Spiderman’s eyes widen.

“Are you guys, like, together-“

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Spiderman gives you what’s likely meant to be an apologetic expression, “Sorry, that was another personal question. But, uh, if you’re not together, why-“

“We’re friends. And he was-“ You let out a breath through your teeth, and maybe you should just ask Spiderman to put tape over your mouth before this gets worse. “Not happy I was in the lab. And he has to protect me. He promised Steve.”

“You knew Captain Rogers? That’s so-“

“We were fuckbuddies.”

Spiderman’s eyes widen again. “Oh. Good- Good for you.”

He gives you a weak thumbs up, and you manage to pull your arms over your body into a tight hug.

“Do you, uh- Do you want me to call Mr. Barnes for you-“

“Yes, please.”

You list off Bucky’s number, and when he picks up in only seconds, you think you can hear him shouting at Spiderman through the phone.

If you were lucky, you’d convince Spiderman to knock you out again. To eliminate the truth serum problem by force, and make it so you don’t have to look Bucky in the eyes when he arrives. But you suggest it, get shot down, and don’t push it further.

And when Bucky bursts into the warehouse—Sam right on his heels and looking far too amused for the situation—you really wish you’d fought harder. Fought at all.

You can’t do this. You can’t listen to Bucky snap at Spiderman for being an idiot and kidnapping you, and watch Sam’s eyes light up when Spiderman explains the whole truth gas thing.

“So anything we ask her, she’s gonna have to tell us the truth?”

Bucky’s jaw twitches as he glances at you. “Truth gas isn’t real. It’s just the aftereffects being knocked out-“

“It’s real, Mr. Barnes-“

“Only one way to find out.” Sam cuts off Spiderman with a wide grin, saying your name in a mockingly casual tone. “What was the best thing you and Cap ever did in bed?”

“Sam-“

Bucky looks like he’s going to throw Sam into the wall, but he’s too late.

“Face-sitting.” When this is over, you’re going to shoot Sam yourself. “I liked the beard a lot.”

Sam’s grin looks like it’s going to start glowing. “Damn, good for you girl. You know, if you like beards-“

“Sam.” Bucky’s voice has dropped to almost a growl, and he’s not looking at you anymore. “Go start the car.”

There’s a long moment where they seem to be having a silent conversation—Sam wearing a shit eating grin and jerking his head in your direction, Bucky looking like he’s one brief moment away from strangling Sam with his bare hands—but before you can figure out what’s happening, Spiderman’s tapping on your shoulder.

You manage to angle your head to frown at him, and he’s holding your gaze in the silence, pointing to your list in his hands, then Bucky.

“Does he know you-“

“No.” You cut off the kid’s whisper before he can finish the sentence, because Bucky will fucking hear him. “Don’t say it.”

“Don’t-“ Spiderman pauses, then nods frantically. “Oh, yeah, sorry- Just- This is yours.”

He shoves the list back into your jacket, right as Sam walks outside with a dramatic sigh, and Bucky turns back to you, his expression unreadable.

“You weren’t supposed to go in alone.” He grunts, and you swallow.

“I know.” You give him a small, nervous smile. “Sorry.”

“I- No, you’re not.”

“I am.” You insist, somehow managing to lean forward as he approaches, and something strange flashes over Bucky’s eyes. “I can’t lie, Buck, I really am sorry, I- I didn’t want to freak you out, I promise-“

Bucky shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Alright. I got you. Hold on.”

You blink at him. “Hold-“

Bucky hauls you over his shoulder without another warning, and you can barely hear Spiderman’s shouted goodbyes and last apologies over the drum of your heart.

“Bucky-“

“Not now.” He grunts, squeezing your thigh with a hand, and that’s not fair. Your body goes molten from it, and he doesn’t know that, and if he asks why you’re suddenly breathing so heavy you’ll have to tell him that you can feel an ache in your core, it’s all his fault.

Bucky doesn’t seem all that interested in talking, though. There are no lectures about being insane and getting yourself drugged. No snaps or grumbles about not telling him where you were going.

He won’t even look you in the eyes, and it’s a million times worse. He just sets you flat on your back in the car and moves to the passenger’s seat, and Sam’s sympathetic look only makes you taste more bile.

Maybe this was a straw on something you hadn’t thought could break, and he’s going to tell you that you’re done. That if you can’t listen, you’re not allowed in the field anymore, and that’s not his fucking call to make but you know Sam won’t stand against him. You work with Bucky the most, and if he says he doesn’t want you anymore, you’re out.

He’ll still be your friend, but you’ll see him less. No more long train rides or later nights in hotels where you can watch him sleep like a fucking creep, imagining he’s holding you to his chest instead of a pillow. And without you there he’ll meet someone, and she’ll become his world, and you’ll be left with this glass over your heart that only becomes stained with color when Bucky looks at you. You’ll be stranded again, and Bucky will be guiding someone else home, and that grave you’ve dug for yourself will bloom a million times until you’re buried under it, and Bucky never removes the dirt from your lungs.

“So.” Sam breaks the silence, and maybe if you bite off your tongue you can save yourself from what’s coming. “Truth gas, huh?”

“Yeah.” You mumble, feeling the flush heat your face, and Sam hums.

“How’s it feel?”

You pause, but only to find the right word. “Fuzzy. Like- Drunk, but paralyzed and also kind of high.”

“Damn, that sounds nice-“

“It’s not.”

“Sam.” Bucky mutters, and you wish you could see him. If his arms are crossed, if he’s scowling, if he looks revolted by the sight of you. “I’ll crash the fucking car.”

“No, you won’t. Hey,” Sam drawls your name, and you can hear his grin. “You remember Singapore?”

“Yeah, I remember the country-“

“You remember the mission we did there, during the Avenger’s break-up era?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“You remember how you and Cap vanished for like, an hour?”

“Sam.” You let out a long breath, and try your fucking hardest to dodge this. “You know I do-“

“What did you guys get up to?”

“Sam.” Bucky growls, but it’s—again—too late.

“I made him get food with me.”

“See, Buck,” Sam says, and you can see him gesturing in your periphery. “It’s not that bad-“

You cut him off, and you can’t stop yourself. “Then we had sex. I gave him a blowjob.”

There’s a long heavy silence, and you think they’re doing the silent conversation again. You can feel your every nerve, alight in your body, and if Bucky doesn’t kick you out you might just run away anyways. He can’t want to hear about it. Steve was like his brother, you’re talking about how you used to fuck his brother, and edging dangerously close to a worse conversation where Bucky tells Sam to shut up, and you agree, and when Sam asks why you’re siding with Bucky, you say it’s because you love him-

Sam says your name again, and whatever silent threats Bucky had given him didn’t seem to be sticking. “What would you do if Steve came back?”

“Nothing.”

That’s an easy one. Sam’s asked you that a million times before, and he seems to be convinced that whenever you say nothing, it’s a lie. That you’ve been hiding how you’d break down in tears and throw yourself into his arms, declaring that your love is undying when it’s never even existed at all, sobbing until Steve forgives you for not asking him to stay.

You’re pretty sure that Sam thinks that, if you’d asked Steve to stay, he would’ve. And you don’t really care either way, because he hadn’t stayed. He’d made his choice, and it had maybe left you hollow for a few months, but now you know that what had been a small bullet wound with Steve was really nothing at all.

It would be a gash through a vital organ, if it had been love. It would’ve been your spine out of your body and your brain leaking out of your mouth, your skin flayed by the loss.

Because Steve had only been a compass. You could make another one, or find another one, and it only guided you north. If he came back, you’d only offer him a hug and a smile, because he’d still be your friend but there was nothing more to do.

Not when your heart wasn’t screeching for him. Not when you had a home, and a way back to it that you might be about to lose, and why isn’t Bucky saying anything-

“Why’s that?” Sam drawls your name, and something twists in your gut. He sounds too casual, as if he’d expected that answer. “Thought you were Steve’s girl-“

“We had sex, Sam, we weren’t soulmates-“

The fuckface doesn’t drop. You hope Bucky stabs him. “But you loved him, right?”

“I never loved Steve, he was just-“ You’re going to fuck vomit. “He was my friend, and the sex was good, really good, but it wasn’t love.”

There’s another silence, and maybe if you do vomit, you’ll choke on it and pass out.

“Told you, Buck.” Sam mutters, and you frown into the air.

“What did you tell him-“

Sam cuts you off with a chuckle. “Tell ‘er, man, what have you got to lose-“

“Sam.” Bucky grunts, and you can hear his glower. “If you don’t drop it, now-“

“Jesus, hold onto your ass. Here, how about-“

“I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I.” Sam cuts off Bucky’s hiss, humming your name like nothing is wrong in the world at all. “How do you know you didn’t love Steve?”

“It wasn’t what love feels like.” You mumble, and maybe you can talk around this. Answer the questions truthfully, without saying the thing.

“Interesting. And what does love feel like?”

“Good.”

“What’s good.”

“Love.”

You swear you could hear Bucky snort, or at least cough.

“Alright, smartass.” Sam mutters, and you can hear him tapping on the wheel. “You ever been in love?”

Fuck. “Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Once.” You’re going to throttle him. Drown him. Take Bucky up on that crash the car thing, because Bucky will be fine, but maybe you and Sam will die and then you can fucking murder his ghost-

“Anyone we know?” Sam’s voice is far too casual. He knows. You don’t know how, but the shithead knows.

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Sam chuckles to himself, and Bucky better punch him now, before it’s too late-

“Yes.” You mutter, pressing on your eyelids until you can see little spiraling patterns. “Sam-“

“Who?”

You try to swallow it. You really fucking try to choke on it, to just let it kill you, to bury yourself before this can ruin everything, and Bucky won’t even be your friend anymore-

But you have no powers. No extraordinary will or resolve or healing factor, to flush the gas out of your system at will or bite down that immovable fact.

It’s more than truth. It’s a tenant, a law, something as simple as cold air will sink and time will keep moving.

You will. You just will. You’ll always fucking do it, and there’s no world ending disaster to save your from say that you simply do and have and will love-

“Bucky.”

You think it’s a mercy, how the gas is fogging over your brain. You hear something slam into something else, but the car keeps moving, and a tight silence hangs over the rest of the ride that you allow yourself not to feel. You just keep your eyes closed and pretend nothing happened at all, because you’ve broken it, and you’re done.

It has to be done. Bucky knows, and he said nothing in return. You don’t have to worry about it, because this is going to kill you, but you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Bucky isn’t saying anything, and even Sam has stopped talking, and you’re going to fucking wither and fall away into nothing but you’ll be fucking fine. Bucky doesn’t owe you anything. Just because you love him like the water loves the moon and bees love flowers and trees love birds doesn’t mean he has to give you anything in return.

To him you’ve just been his friend, and loving Bucky might be clarity for you, but for him it’s probably strange. You’re Steve’s girl that got left behind. You’re the little shadow that he’d already been planning on surgically removing from his wake, and you loving him shouldn’t make that different. He’s not going to just love you because you love him. If anything he might think you’re trying to twist his will, make him feel guilty for planning to push you away, force him to let you cling to him a little while longer out of obligation.

The same obligation that has him carrying you inside, when you finally park the car.

He must think you’re asleep. Must not want to wake you and force that conversation, with how he’s holding you in your arms like you’re a damsel or princess, and not just another piece of luggage.

You’re greedy. You won’t pretend to wake up, because you’re greedy, and you want this for just one more second. To let your face press into Bucky’s chest, to smell the coffee on his shirt, and amber of that old cologne he wears when he thinks he doesn’t have mission to do.

You’d ruined that. You’d made him grab you from a warehouse, made him carry you inside, and you don’t know why he’s setting you on your bed with such care when you fucked everything-

This isn’t your bed, it smells like that cologne, and a piney shampoo, and the blankets are thinner than yours.

“I know you’re awake.” Bucky’s voice is low, from somewhere across the room, and you really wish you could sit up. “I’m goin’ out with Sam to check out the lab, make sure nothing else got fucked on your trip. I-“ He pauses, and you can hear a slightly shuffling before he speaks again. “Don’t move. Please. I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t move if you wanted to. The gas is still running through your system, and when the door closes behind Bucky, exhaustion slams into your chest.

It’s not sleep exhaustion. It’s drifting in and out consciousness, the light of the room seeming to shift as you roll around Bucky’s bed—this has to be Bucky’s bed, and you don’t really want to think about that too hard right now—ending up with your face buried in his pillow. You think you can, at some point, hear people moving around near you, but it’s nothing. The world, right now, is just you, in Bucky’s bed, breathing an imprint of him in as your limbs start to grow heavy, and motion returns to your body.

But you stay in Bucky’s bed. You don’t have the strength to move. Physically, at first, but then that’s just an excuse.

You don’t want to move. You won’t fight to convince Bucky to let you stay, but you also won’t fight to set yourself free before he kicks you to the curb.

So you just wait. And you’re tired enough that you don’t hear him come in.

You yelp as a big, cool hand presses to your brow, and your eyes shoot open to find Bucky already watching you.

“Lab is fine.” He mutters. “And Sam’s out. He’s walkin’ it off.”

You don’t respond, and Bucky’s throat bobs slightly.

“I didn’t beat him not. Not go for recovery and shit, but I did yell at him a lot. And he’s sorry. He’ll be bringin’ you cake later, to show it.”

Another beat of silence, and Bucky won’t stop looking at you.

“Ice cream cake.” He grunts. “You had a fever, for a minute. Think the cold will help.” He switches hands, frowning as he scans over your face. “You feelin’ better?”

You let out a long breath, and you can’t do this. You can ride it out, but you can’t do it.

Bucky grunts your name when you don’t answer, his brow furrowing slightly. “I need you to tell me you’re feelin’ better.”

You just blink at him, and give a tiny, weak nod.

“Are you gonna talk to me?” His voice sounds strained, and you can’t fucking do this- “I- You don’t need to explain, I just want you to stop ignoring me-“

“You were ignoring me first.” You mumble, and you sound like you’re whining. This is horrible, and if Bucky wasn’t going to toss you away before, he will now. “You wouldn’t look at me.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks. “I’m looking at you now, doll.”

“Bucky-“

“Is the truth gas gone?:

You blink at him. “I- Maybe, yeah-“

“Tell me a lie, then.” His tone is urgent, and maybe the gas isn’t gone. Maybe you just finally fell into full sleep, and this is a dream.

“Um…” You blink at him, your voice barely a rasp. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Shit, how about- Who ate my dumplings?”

“Sam.” You whisper, and Bucky frowns.

“He said you did it, so that’s a lie-“

That manages to pull a weak smile out of you. “And you trust him?”

“I-“ Bucky runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “You’re right. What about this. What color are my sheets?”

You frown. “You can see them, Buck, they’re blue-“

“I know, you just gotta lie. Say they’re pink.”

“They’re pink?”

“Thank fuck.” Bucky lets out a long breath, watching you carefully as he continues. “No interrupting me until I’m done, got it?”

“Bucky-“

“Got it?”

His tone isn’t harsh, but it’s sharp. Almost desperate.

You can’t fight.

All you can do is nod, and whisper, “Okay.”

“Good.” He braces his shoulders, the same movement as when he’s prepping for a fight, his eyes never leave yours as he speaks. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I thought- Shit, I was sure I’d fuck something up. Ask why you snuck off on that mission, and you’d say because you didn’t trust me to do it, then I’d ask why, and you’d- goddamn it-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, his word almost pushed through his teeth. “I didn’t want to hear it, doll. I didn’t want you to tell me what I knew, cause then it would be real, and I’d have to live with that. You’re, I never even hoped for it, cause that’s just not how this is supposed to work, and he might have left but he’d have to come back- I woulda always come back for you, wouldn’t have left you in the first place but the kid’s always been a punk, might’ve taken him a second- But you- Wait-“

Bucky reaches into his pocket, and you shouldn’t have agreed not to interrupt him. You’re only half-following what he’s saying, and he’s pulling out your fucking list, and maybe if you can’t fight it’s time to run-

Before you can move, Bucky’s hand lands on your thigh, holding you in place as he scans over the list. Like he’d been ready for you to go.

Gripping you so tight, he might not want you to leave.

“I don’t think my accent slips that much.” He says, and you swallow. “And I try to use the conditioner, but sometimes I’m in rush.”

You swallow. “Bucky-“

“And that vase is shit.” He puts down the list, looking back to you with a heavy caution in his eyes. “I only made it cause Sam threatened to hide my arm, if I didn’t do that stupid fucking pottery class with him. Not nearly as good as that sunset painting you got in your room.”

“I-“ You take a heavy breath, forcing the words out, slow and neutral. “It’s a nice painting.”

“Sam mentioned Steve made it for you.”

“He did.” You mumble. “During the Blip.”

“But you don’t love it.”

You shake your head, and Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“Really is a horrible vase.”

You only shrug.

“Shit-“ Bucky sighs, glancing to his nightstand. “Can I show you something?”

You nod—words are really too much, too dangerous—and Bucky opens the side drawer, pulling out his own crumpled paper, almost identical to yours, and places it in your hands.

He doesn’t have to tell you to read it. Your eyes are scanning over the paper before you can stop them, and you’re not going to choke on vomit or spit or words.

You’re going to choke on your heart, right in your throat and trying to find a way out of your body. Maybe to blind you, before you can see too much and this all becomes hopelessly reality.

You’d tried not to think about what Bucky’s good things list contained. If you made even a single appearance. It always hurt too much, because what if you didn’t. What if he was apathetic of your presence—not hate, you would know if Bucky hated you—and you’d have strangle your own love a little further, bury it even deeper, wander after him a little more aimlessly, because what was home for you wasn’t anything for him-

“Sam tried to steal this, before I gave it to my shrink.” Bucky mutters. “He’s been trying to convince me to stop making assumptions about you and Steve for months, and his methods started to get out of line few weeks back. This,” Bucky taps the paper, still clenched in your hands. “Was his idea, not the doctors. He’s gonna be so fuckin’ annoying now, swear to god if he hired the spiderkid I’ll rip off his wings and toss him off the roof-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and you’re worried you’re going to tear the already worn paper. “Do you mean this?”

He nods before the last word is even fully out of your mouth. “Never meant anythin’ more. Didn’t think you’d ever even see it. Or read it.”

You can tell that. His handwriting is rushed, and scratchy, and the words are almost illegible. The header says Good Things - JBB, in big letters, and everything else you have to squint to read.

Bucky likes Sam, but there’s an added note of sometimes in the margins. He likes YouTube, and that has a note as well, explaining there are a bunch of videos about how to upkeep his bike and fuck with the stereo of Sam’s car so it only connects to your phone.

All his items have little notes added on. Bucky likes the flowers in the park, because they make you smile when he puts them in the vase he made you. He likes peppermint ice cream because you always steal some of it, and then give him some of yours. He likes eggs because you make them for him, and the piano because you play it, and Russian because you can read it now, and sometimes you’ll pass notes like teenagers just to piss Sam off, and that makes him laugh.

And Bucky likes you.

That one is underlined five times, and crossed out, and moved to very bottom of the page with a different header.

Best Things - JBB.

You look up at him with wide eyes, and he looks guarded. Worried.

“You need to say it first.” He mutters, scanning over you carefully. “Because you want to say it. You need to- Shit,” Bucky sits a little taller, his voice hoarse as he says your name. ”You need to want this.”

You can hear the missing word.

Bucky.

You have to want Bucky.

And you’ve never fought for anything in your life. You’ve been like a chemical, reacting in a chain without any desire or thought to build yourself into anything more. It’s never mattered what you’ve wanted before, not with anyone. Steve finds you, then leaves you, then Sam finds you, then Bucky finds you, and you burst and bounce off of all of them without a thought because that’s what you do.

You don’t fight for things.

But you’d never been in love before either, and it’s moving you faster and with more fire than the truth gas had. You love Bucky, so this isn’t blood spilt in his name or a bullet bruising your organs to protect him. No plans or strategies or broken bones, because this isn’t something that can be broken. You dropped it but it’s still fully intact and filled with something better than you’ve ever had before, so you do more than fight for it.

You’ll spit and bite and snarl to keep it in your hands. You’ll build something out of roses around it until nothing can take it, and then you’ll still defend it with everything you have, because to you it will still be clear and delicate and more resilient than the ocean.

And when you finally speak, there’s something strong to your voice that hadn’t been there before, because you want Bucky to hear it. To never doubt that, at the end of the day, you want him.

It’s clear. And the words flow out of you even easier than when you’d had no choice.

“I love you.” You push up onto your knees until you’re barely a breath away, your body still only steadied by his hand on your thigh. “You. James Barnes. Nobody else. Ever.”

“That’s good.” He mutters, his free hand reaching to cup your face. “Shit, that’s- Are you-“

“I’m sure,” you offer him a small smile. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Bucky.”

His lips twitch slightly, and you’ve never seen his eyes so dark. You can fucking feel it. Across your skin and in your gut, right into your vein and more electric than a storm. If you bother to think back, he’s looked at you like this countless times, but it’s as if one last veil has been lifted, and it’s really written all over his face before he can say it.

“I love you, too.” Bucky says your name in a soft voice than you’ve ever heard, his hand squeezing on your thigh, and you’re gone. Flying and falling and growing into him, up to him, over him.

You’re almost fully pressed over him.

He doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He pauses, raising his brows like he’s expecting you to flinch away.

You can’t have that.

Your hands fist in his shirt in half a second, and you yank him down into until you’re certain he feels it the same way you do. That this going to be immovable. You’ll mold into Bucky and climb on to his lap and open your mouth when he groans and presses his tongue on your lower lip, but that will only ever be for him. Your love for him will only ever fucking build, until it’s bursting through the atmosphere and coating everything, and you’re never lost again.

The kiss deepens from long and slow to almost frantic. You can taste whatever fruit and coffee he’d been having while you were knocked out, and you can feel his every muscle ripping when he pulls you tighter to his chest, and you need him. More. All of it. You can bite at his lips and moan at his tongue down your throat, half claw your way up his body and grind down onto his leg, but you need more-

Bucky grunts your name, pulling back with his hands planted on your hips, and at some point you’d managed to straddle his thigh.

He’s not letting you move, as he scans over your open, flushed features, and you can’t stop the whine that leave your lips.

“Jesus, baby-“

You let out another weak sound as the ache between your legs becomes painful, and drop your brow to his. “Fuck- Bucky, you can’t just say that-“

He frowns at you, brow furrowing slightly. “What are you- you mean baby?”

“God-“ You whack his arm, trying to roll your hips against him, but you barely even manage to squirm. “You’re such an asshole-“

“Yeah, ‘m sorry, ba- pretty girl.” He’s trying to help you, but pretty girl is worse, and you start to kiss over his jaw just have something.

Biting and nipping along the line of his scruff, moving your hands under his shirt to trace over his stomach, and abdomen, and-

“Shit-“ Bucky knocks your hand away with a grunt, the metal hand starting to rub firm circles on your waist. “I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman, doll, get you on a date first-“

“Date later.” You mutter, moving one hand back up to tug at his hair. “Want this, Bucky, I- I’ve been- Fuck-“ You yank at his hair again as Bucky growls, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking, wet a long line over your collar bone as he starts to guide your hips back along his thigh. “God, that feels so good-“

“I know, baby.” He smirks against your skin when you moan, and you bury your face in his shoulder. “But we’re goin’ on that date later, alright?”

“Yeah, yes please, just-” you nod desperately, tugging at Bucky’s shirt. “Off, please-“

He leans back for a second, pulling his own shirt over his head before ripping yours off, diving his head to kiss along the line of your breasts and he holds you steady on his thigh.

You’re going to fly out of your skin. Somewhere in the dizzying, building high of Bucky’s mouth anywhere he can get it, and your arms wrapped around his neck as you grind onto his thigh, he lifts you up for half a second and rips your jeans off, right before guiding you right back to where he’s decided you belong.

Riding his thigh with your cunt forming a dark spot on his jeans, your moans muffled in his chest or swallowed by long, heavy and bruising kisses.

And you’re close. You’re so close, and you can feel his cock straining right where your clit keeps bumping, and he’s started to lick and bite at nipples, and god, he’s so fucking good-

“Think you can cum like this, baby?” Bucky’s words vibrate through your whole body, and you moan against his lips. “I can help you, if you need a little more, all you have to do-“

“Please.” You whisper, squirming in his hold as he starts to kneed at your skin. “Fuck, Bucky, please, more-“

He silences you with another rough, almost branding kiss—as if he’s trying to push himself into your body, when he’s already been there for what may be forever—and grabs your leg, swinging it over until you’re fully sat on his lap, your bare pussy exposed to the air.

Bucky pushes a finger into your cunt without warning, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing harsh, firm circles until your gasping into his open mouth and yanking at his hair, every other strangled sound just another plea for more.

He gives it. Two fingers, pumping in and out of you, and it feels so good, you’re going to light on fire and burn because his thumb is just pressing down on your clit as his fingers crook at rub on the sensitive point inside of you, and he’s so fucking good-

Something white-hot and tight snaps in your core, your pussy starts to spasm and make wet sounds you’d never heard before, and you cum on Bucky’s hand with a high, relieved gasp of his name in his ear, yanking on his hair one last time. Bucky’s groan rolls through your whole body until a small, softer orgasm leaves you shaking in his arms, and when you pulls back, he’s watch you with an open, reverent expression.

Bucky pulls his hand out of your still quivering pussy, his gaze fixed on the wet mess you left all over his fingers, and you almost apologize before you see the expression on his face.

It’s hunger. And when his eyes drop only slightly to his own pants, you can see a large, wet stain around his crotch.

You swallow, looking back up to meet Bucky’s stare, and somehow the love on his face is clearer than before. Almost ardorous, and he’s licking his fingers clean without breaking your stare, and fuck, he’s already pressing right into your inner thigh again-

“You came in your pants.” You whisper, and Bucky shrugs.

“You squirted.” He glances down to his hand, then your parted lips, and his eyes flash slightly. “Can you open for me, babydoll?”

That one’s dangerous. You might do anything Bucky asks, if says it in that low, devout voice and calls you babydoll.

He groans as you obey, wrapping your lips around those same fingers that had been inside of you and sucking, moaning and licking around him, trying to show him what you’ll do for him if he lets you fall to your knees for him, touch him, taste him instead of your own release-

“God, you’re perfect.” Bucky mutters under his breath, and you start to grind down onto his already hard dick, steadying yourself with your fingers dug into his chest. “You want- Shit- I think you want more-”

You cut him off with a moan and a nod, and that’s all it takes.

It’s almost impossible, how fast Bucky has you tossed backwards on this bed, towering over your naked body for only half a second as he rips his own jeans off, right before falling forward and kissing you until you’re dizzy and melted into the mattress, scraping at his back for more because you can feel his cock, free and big and pressed right onto your stomach-

Bucky rises up with wide eyes, his attention flicking to the nightstand. “I- Uh- Wasn’t expectin’ to do this anything soon-“

“Are you clean?” You trace your hand over Bucky’s jawline until his eyes fall back to yours. “Because I’m on the pill, and the last guy was a virgin.”

Bucky blinks at you for a second, then snorts, dropping his brow to yours.

“You think you’re funny, doll.” He mutters, kissing slowly along your neck. “But I’m clean, and if you’re sayin’ what I think you are, you’re gonna be feeling me in that sweet pussy for a month.”

You swallow, a smooth shiver moving up your spine. “Promise?”

“Fuck- Are you-“

“Stop asking if I’m sure, Bucky-“

You cut yourself off with a squeak as Bucky slams his cock into you, and your back arches off the bed.

He must have somehow grown from seconds before, because fuck, he’s big. Splitting you open and filling you up until you’re already seeing faint stars, big. Driving you out of your mind just by sitting inside of you without friction, and that thought enters your head and now all you can think about is Bucky moving-

“I’ve got you, baby.” He mutters in your ear, and you must have said that aloud, because he starts to fuck you.

Really, properly fuck you until you can’t really tell where Bucky’s stopping and you’re beginning. Pounding into your cunt, with his skin slapping against yours and a big, rough, warm hand pulling and flicking at your nipples as his mouth attacks your skin, and fuck-

“Bucky-“ You gasp, your words morphing into a whine as he slams into that already raw, abused spot inside of you. “Fuck- I-“

“I know, baby,” He kisses over your face, never breaking pace as he soothes you. “Think you can come again, pretty girl? Gimme once more, before I fill your- Shit- Fill you up like you-“

Bucky groans your name as you squeeze around him, and any deceptively soft words turn in animalistic glowers as he drills into you.

You’re not sure when you cum. If it’s when Bucky starts to repeat that he loves you, over and over in your ear, his movements growing unmeasured and desperate as his cock stared to slam into your pelvis. It might have been when the metal hand found its way to pinching and rubbing your clit, or when Bucky angled your hips up and started to drill into you at an impossibly deep angle.

But you know that you don’t think you’ll ever fully come down from this high. That even as Bucky paints your cunt white with his own release and a roar of you name, you’re still floating, and everything is just a blur of salt and blue and pine and Bucky and good. He’s leaking down your thighs, but remaining buried inside of you as you both take long, ragged breaths, and he’s good. Warm and sprawled over you, strong and caging you in his arms like you’re a work of art or diamond, all yours and good.

“You promised me a date,” you mumble in his ear, and he chuckled, turning his head to kiss your cheek.

“I did, didn’t I. You think Sam’ll notice if we got out tomorrow night?”

You roll your eyes. “I think Sam is lucky he’s not getting poisoned after that shit.”

“You want me to poison him, doll, just say the word-“

“No-“

“How about head trauma. I can give him head trauma-“

You giggle, running your fingers through Bucky’s hair until you swear you can hear him fucking purring. “Don’t give Sam head trauma. It would make you sad.”

“Shut up.” Bucky grumbles, squeezing you a little tighter. “You never said yes to dinner.”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” You hum, leaning back to smile at him, and there’s the ardor again.

You’ve never felt anyone’s pure attention do that to you before him. Make everything in you soft and feral all at once, because it will only make you bloom but you’re certain now that you’d rip the fabric of time and space apart to keep it.

“I love you.” You whisper, and Bucky’s grin splits his face.

Those grins are rare. Teeth and joy and light and all Bucky, more priceless every rare metal and magic in the world.

But they’ve never been rare for you. He’s almost always offered them to you like they were nothing, and if loving Bucky was clarity, admitting it is omnipresence.

You’re everything, and everywhere, and you love him, and you don’t know how you’d never seen that he loves you back. It’s been written in crude but deep words, everywhere you could ever look.

“I love you, too.” Bucky brushes a little hair out of your face, his eyes almost sparklingly like stars on yours. “Think it’s okay if I show you, a lot, for a long time?”

Your smile hurts your cheeks, and you think the light in your body could outshine the sun.

“Yeah, it’s- please.” You lean up to press your lips to Bucky’s in a soft, slow kiss. “Please do that.”

He smirks, nodding as he tangles his hand in your hair.

“Whatever my girl wants, I’ll get her.”

“Good.” You whisper. “Cause I’m yours.”

And this is it.

You’re home.

End Note: Sam Wilson and his silly fuckeries. Biggest little brother energy in the world.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)

@globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @Youdontknowe @panicking-outside-the-disco @ambiguous-avery

@generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @tiana-kh @woaheasytig3r

@winchester-whiskey @jsudsgf @deans-yn @jofinka @megara0224

@funkenniffler @disappearintofanfiction @solsborg @sheneedsjesus @bonkydarnes

@whimsicalcherry @charliethemanticore @cats-chaotic-mind @forzalando @roseblue373

@sleepysongbirdsings @angrydragon90 @dumbwhorestuff @biodegradable-glitter-fest @idontwannabehere78

@miss-marmalade @cowboysandcigarettes @mgchaser @starrylanex

@foolinthera1n

469 notes · View notes

simpforrooster · 5 months ago

Text

you're literally about to faint.

jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

summary: jakey ghosts reader after he graduated topgun and now that he's back, he needs to get her back.

t/w: cursing, mentions of blood [nothing too graphic], angst, rooster taking care of reader. jakey is afraid of blood. not proofread. ill do that later gators.

your arm wipes down the bar top with a mind of its own as you watch the naval aviators fill the hard deck.

so far, all the aviators are top gun graduates you’ve met at one time or another. natasha, bob, coyote. rooster stops by the bar for a hug. you let him go and admire the view as he joins natasha and bob at the pool table.

only one person is missing.

hangman.

jake.

taking stock of who’s here, hangman should be sauntering in any minute. they’ve called the best of the best back for…well whatever it is they’ve here for.

“well hell, i must’ve died and gone to heaven.” a southern-drawl fills the space behind you. holding strong, you don’t turn to him, making him step in front of the bar.

he decided not to wear his service khakis, instead donning a flannel and fuckin’ stetson cowboy hat.

ugh. he’s playing dirty.

his green eyes hold yours as he tips his hat to you.

that fucker.

jake slides into the stool across from you. “how’ve you been, love?”

rooster’s gaze tears a hole in the side of your face. you can hear him now. don’t get involved with hangman…again. he’s bad news.

too bad jake has proved just how bad he is.

jake swept you up in a passionate relationship while he was attending top gun. once he graduated, your plan was to stay in miramar, and he had no control over his deployment.

he left without a word. never called. never wrote. never visited on leave. you couldn’t believe it. rooster couldn’t even get the words “i told you so” out once he saw how truly heartbroken you were.

“how’ve i been? jake, it’s been three years.” tears prickle the back of your eyes and you pray they remain at bay. you’ve cried enough of this blonde man.

your grandmother always warned you against blonde men. now you know why.

a smirk sits on his beautiful face, and for a second, you think you spot his confidence falter. as quick as it happened, he steels his gaze. being, or looking weak, wasn’t something jake allowed to happen.

"oh come on, angel. it hasn't been that long," he says. his eyes move slowly across your face, like he's memorizing your features. or checking his memory to make sure he remembered you exactly.

you make yourself busy by drying glasses and putting them in their pyramid home. if you look at jake too long, he'll pull you right back in.

"you really lived up to your callsign, didn't you," you say to the glass and not him. "you sure did hang me out to dry."

this strikes a nerve, the words cut through him like butter. "y/n, that's hardly fair."

the glass in your hand slams to the counter, shattering in your hand. "fair? you know what's not fair? waiting for you. for anything from you." his eyes lock with yours and your chest heaves under the weight of finally getting these feelings out in the open.

"it's not fair what you did to me," the words are low, almost inaudible.

jake's gaze flits down to your mouth...no...your hand?

he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come. he tries again, swollowing hard. he points.

looking down, you understand what he was trying to tell you, and now that the adrenaline has run it's course, pain shoots through your hand.

the two of you balk at each other, both paling. "baby, your hand," he breathes.

rooster immediately jumps into action. "hangman, you're in the motherfucking navy!" rooster rounds the counter and cradles your hand in a towel. he guides you to the bathroom.

"i'm not a fucking medic, asshole," jake shoots back, suddenly feeling better at the prospect of rooster taking care of your wound. tears fall down your cheeks, and you don't know if its the cut or jake.

jake is on rooster's heels as rooster thrusts your hand under the running water. "you did a number on this, girl." the nickname sends warmth through your body. rooster's hands fall to your hips and he boosts you onto the counter so he can get a better look at your hand.

jake falters taking in the two of you, rooster holding you like you're the most precious thing. soft 'shh's fall from his lips as he tries to calm you down. him standing between your legs with a little too much familiarity.

"okay, i get it," jake tells his shoes. "she's with you, so i'll just..." he gestures to the door.

"fuck," rooster swears under his breath. "we aren't together, seresin, and if you are hoping to earn another chance with her, you better get in here."

rooster has the would clean and wrapped. he steps aside, letting jake approach you. you cradle your hand to your chest, and jake has the decency to look sheepish.

"i don't do blood," he admits.

you manage to chuckle. "neither do i."

rooster rolls his eyes. "it's a good thing i stepped in, then. you two fools just staring at each other while y/n/n potentially bleeds out." rooster turns on his heels and out the door. "idiots," he mutters.

"he's right," jake sighs, "i am an idiot." he sets his hands on his hips, letting out a breath, his head falls toward the ceiling. "i know how long it's been."

"i was devastated, jake," you tell him. "the worst part was not knowing what i did for you to just ghost me."

he shakes his head, "nothing. you didn't do anything."

your hand falls to your lap, your shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world has fallen on them. "well, i mean if that's it." you slide off the counter, and make to step around him.

jake stops you. "can you just not."

"jake, if you're not going to have an adult conversation about this with me, then i have nothing more to say to you." jake walks you backwards, your bottom hitting the counter. more suave than rooster, he gently pushes you onto the counter.

your body betrays you by allowing goosebumps to form. jake smirks at this. "you lost a lot of blood. you need to sit," he murmurs in your ear. you feel woozy with him this close to you. every moment the two of you shared comes rushing back and you have to hold yourself back from grabbing the collar of his shirt.

"no i didn't, hangman."

"you're literally about to pass out," he points out.

"that's not from the cut," you admit.

a genuine smile spreads across his face. "that right?" he drawls.

shaking your head, you push him back. "i can't think when you're in my bubble."

"you've never complained before," he flirts. he cradles your face in his hands. "i'm sorry," he breathes.

the tension leaves your body at the apology and you lean into his touch. "i thought it would be easier not to have you. i've never done real. i've never felt the way i do about you with anyone. it felt...feels too real. i freaked out."

"you can't still have feelings for me after this long," you say.

jake tilts your face up toward his. "say that again looking at me."

"you can't--" jake stops you by bringing his mouth to yours. you melt into his touch and it feels like no time has passed. he pulls you flush against him, your legs coming around his waist.

"i couldn't bare to hear those ridiculous words come out of your pretty mouth again," he says against your lips. "of course i still have feelings for you."

"jake," you sigh. he changes the angle of the kiss, deepening it with a sweep of his tongue across your bottom lip. granting him access, you grip the bottom of his flannel with your good hand, pulling him as close as you can.

"tell me you don't feel the same thing and i will stop." his expert mouth works against yours for a moment longer before moving to kiss along your jaw. you crane your neck, making sure he has all the room he needs to linger those kisses along your neck and collarbone. which he does, and it drives you just as crazy as it did years ago.

"i told you i can't think when you're this close," you murmur.

jake chuckles against the soft skin of your neck. "good, then my plan is working."

"your hat is getting in the way," you tell him, placing your own kisses along his jaw.

"it's gone" he reaches up and grabs his hat, setting it on the counter.

"not forever, i hope. i do quite like it," you say, pulling his mouth back to yours. "you knew coming in wearing it was going to make me fold."

"it was one of my plans," he says, smiling against the kisses.

"one of them?" you push back, looking at him.

"i was prepared to do anything to get you back, darlin'."

you answer him with another earth-shattering kiss.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #hangman fic #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction

797 notes · View notes

giannaln4 · 7 months ago

Text

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day fourteen.

What a Filthy Sight (2.2k words)

summary: You couldn't stop yourself from finding pleasure while your boyfriend was away. What you never imagined is that he would catch you in the middle of it.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, stablished relationship, pillow humping, masturbation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, language.

Y/N: I miss you

That was the last text you sent to your boyfriend last night before going to bed. He had been away for the American triple header, and it felt like you hadn’t seen him in months. The last time you truly spoke with him was after the race, happily congratuating him on his result; it was now Monday, and God, you missed him like crazy.

You didn’t think he was ignoring you, but you couldn’t help but check your phone every five minutes or get excited when you got a notification only to be disappointed when you saw it wasn’t Lando; you knew he was tired and they were already thinking about Brazil, but who could blame a girl for missing her incredibly sexy boyfriend?

Usually, when he was supposed to be away for this long, you’d go with him, but you were so extremely busy with your own work that this wasn’t an option this time.

Instead of thinking about that, you decided to keep yourself busy, cleaning every inch of your shared home, even the tiniest places no one would ever think to clean. You finally got to your room, sighing when you saw Lando’s side of the bed almost untouched in his absence, only his main pillow out of place since you used it to cuddle it at night so you wouldn’t feel too lonely in the huge bed.

You started making the bed, grabbing all the pillows that were out of place and putting them in their respective spots. That was until you got to Lando's; you could still smell his delicious scent. It was very faint, but it was definitely there. He hasn’t been home in a few weeks and honestly, you’d do anything to have him there with you.

A loud sigh scaped your lips as you collapsed on the bed, hugging the pillow as tears threatened to leave your eyes; you needed the Brazilian GP to be over just so you could see him again. Your leg went over his big pillow, bringing it closer to you as you inhaled his smell again.

After a few minutes, you decided it was time to get back to work so you started to get up, but as you tried to reach for your charger that was on the other side of the bed, his pillow ended up between your thighs.

You didn’t move, trying to push that thought out of your head, but your sudden neediness got the best of you, and before you knew it, you started to softly rock your hips against it.

It immediately felt good — so good that you started humping his pillow more desperately. You had to admit that you had been missing his touch the second he left the apartment, and sure, you had tried to please yourself multiple times, but it simply wasn’t the same without him; this, however, made you feel closer to him, almost like he was right there with you.

You tried to tease yourself along the way, getting a bit rough here and there from your desperate humping, soft moans leaving your lips every so often. The friction you were getting was sensual, honestly the most pleasure you’ve felt since he left; yet it wasn’t nearly enough, so you slowly started losing the layers that were covering your body, soon finding yourself completely naked as you worked to get yourself to that sweet release you so badly needed.

“Lando,” a moan scaped your lips, the friction on your pussy feeling delicious as you fisted the material that covered the pillow. You were so lost in pleasure, you didn’t hear the door of the apartment open, or the footsteps getting closer to the bedroom, or the door opening all the way. No, what made you snap out of it was far more embarrassing.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮

Lando came back home to surprise you for at least a few hours before he had to head to Brazil. He was aware it was a long shot, but you were worth it. He could still remember the look on your face when you realised you couldn’t go with him and all those late-night calls when you would be on the verge of tears every time you had to say goodbye. It broke his heart as much as it broke yours, so he wanted to be there to mend it.

He purposefully didn’t reply to your last text, scared he would somehow spoil the surprise for you as if his fingers would text you he was on his way without him noticing. It was as stupid as it sounded, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

After what felt like the longest flight of his life, he was finally home. Lando slowly opened the front door as he looked around for you. He knew you were there since he just saw your car parked outside, but he was met with nothing but a clean home; this could only mean one thing: you had been keeping yourself busy.

He smiled to himself as he got rid of his shoes, making his way to your bedroom. He was about to call for you, but something made him stop in his tracks. A sound... no, not a sound, was that a... moan? No, it couldn’t be, you were home alone. Unless…

He started walking again, faster this time as he tried to stay as silent as possible. Once he got to the door, he slowed down; it was halfway open so he just stood close enough to the gap before he could spot you in the middle of the bed.

God, what a filthy sight. Your breasts were bouncing as you arched your back, fists fixated on the pillow, his pillow, as you used it to pleasure yourself. He couldn’t believe his eyes; you were grinding on the pillow with so much passion he didn’t know where to look. The pretty faces you were making as you tightly closed your eyes, your parted lips as little mewls escaped, your pussy, no wait... his pillow, he could already see a wet patch forming in his pillow.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants, growing harder by the second as he admired the way your hips circled and bounced against the cushion, but what truly broke him down was the passing of his name on your lips. Fuck, he neded you right now.

Without thinking twice, he opened the door all the way and stepped into the room, dropping his bag next to him, the loud thump finally making you open your eyes and snap out of the pleasure you were feeling.

“Lando,” you nearly screamed, falling back on the bed as you took the big pillow to cover your body. Your entire body was burning, this time from embarrassment. “Sorry, I- I wasn’t-” you stopped talking, realising there was no point in lying. He literally just saw you; why bother coming up with an excuse?

“You weren’t what, sweetheart?”

“I- how long have you been here?”

“Long enough. Why’d you stop?”

“What?” Your face got even redder if that was even possible. You and Lando had been together for years, and you had done a good job at exploring each other in many ways, but this? This was something that never crossed your mind.

“Keep going,” he said as he walked into the room, ridding himself of his clothing as he sat on the small couch across your shared bed. “I wanna watch you ride my pillow.”

“You want me to- Lando, what are you doing here?”

“Why are you being so shy all of a sudden? Are you not happy to see me?” He asked, maintaining eye contact.

“Yes, I- of course I am.”

“Okay then. Keep going.” He repeated. You stared at him for a few seconds, trying to catch the smallest hint of bantering, but he was being completely serious.

You couldn’t lie; having him completely naked on the other side of the room was getting you wet, and you were honestly down to try it out, but his dark gaze intimidated you so much you didn’t know if you’d be confident enough.

Shyly, you went back to your previous position, except you were now facing Lando instead of a blank wall. With the pillow perfectly positioned between your thighs, you started rolling your hips again, slowly but surely.

Lando, on the other hand, was enjoying this more than he could ever imagine. He watched your pussy make contact with his pillow, leaving a wet patch as you gained more confidence when pleasure started to take over again. His hand grabbed his cock with his spit-stained hand, squeezing it a few times before pumping it slowly with a firm grip.

Your shyness quickly left your body as you watched your boyfriend’s hand move quickly along his shaft, the slicky noise joining the creaking of the bed as you stared at each other.

“Lando,” a moan left your lips, your pace picking up.

“Mhm? You look so pretty like this.” Lando was matching your pace, his hand moving up and down only stopping to run his thumb over his tip. The sight was truly mesmerising for the both of you. You have gotten off to each other before, just not like this, but it might have to become more common if it feels this good.

You started feeling way more needy when your eyes landed on his drippy tip. You nearly couldn’t believe the way it looked — all of him, really, his face so pink as his parted lips let out short puffs of air. “I need you,” you whimpered, your hands falling on your boobs for a split second.

“Finish on my pillow first, baby, I know you are close.” He could feel his abdomen begin to clench, slowing down a bit so he could finish with you.

You just nodded as your hands planted themselves on the bed, giving you the opportunity to ground yourself harder with the way your clit was rubbing against the material. Louder moans could be heard in the room as you felt your orgasm incoming. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the situation you were in, but it was coming fast, and in a matter of seconds, a loud whimper of his name left your lips as your climax hit you.

“There you go,” he whined, putting more pressure on his cock as he quickly worked for his own orgasm, allowing himself to cum all over his hand. “Shit.”

Your eyes never left him. God, you loved the sight of his cock twitching between his fingers as his hot cum was being spilled. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before standing up and making his way to the bed, eyes just as dark and cock hardening again. He wanted more?

Once he was in front of you, he took the pillow from between your legs and threw it somewhere in the bed, capturing your lips in the neediest kiss humanity could ever imagine. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed you on your back as he hovered over you, his hands exploring your body like he had never touched you.

“You looked so fucking hot.” He said against your lips. “Fuck, I never imagined I’d find you like this, did you really miss me that much?”

You hummed in response, your legs wrapping around his body as you brought him even closer to you. “You have no idea, I’ve needed you since the second you left.”

“Good.” Lando pushed his throbbing cock in you, finally stuffing you full in a quick motion. “I’ve missed you too.”

He didn’t even give you time to adjust; you were so wet from your previous acts that it slid in and out of you with ease. He was thrusting into you hard and fast, just the way you needed to after not seeing each other in weeks.

You were gasping in his mouth, the slick noises that could be heard in the room were nothing but filthy. “Yeah? Feels good?” He asked, and you moaned in response.

His lips were now travelling down your jaw, leaving a wet trail of kisses until he got to your neck, where he sucked harshly at your sensitive skin. There was nothing you could do but moan and tug at his curly hair, the added sensation making him moan into your neck.

You knew you wouldn’t last much longer; how could you? And by the way his thrusts were becoming sloppier, you knew he wouldn’t either.

It only took a few more thrusts before you both fell over the edge, coming at the same time as a string of moans combined with his name left your lips. Your pulsing cunt was milking him dry as he pushed deep into you one last time, Lando’s incoherent sounds muffled by your hot skin.

You both stayed still for a moment, trying to come down from your two mind-blowing orgasms, until he finally slipped out of your hole and collapsed next to you, his arms immediately wrapping around your body as he kissed the top of your head. He felt like home; despite the layer of sweat that was covering both of you, he still needed to feel your warmth.

“Maybe I should surprise you more often if this is how I’m gonna be greeted.”

↺ back to navigation — Kinktober masterlist

#giannaln4 kinktober #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #giannaln4 writes #lando norris one shot #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine

889 notes · View notes

saidrabbles · 6 months ago

Text

the way you are

pairing: kwon jiyong x idol! reader

summary: amidst crazy stalker threats, you receive an irresistible opportunity to collaborate with the one and only, g-dragon.

warnings: excessive stalking, threatening with weapons.

a/n: i’m always reluctant to write for jiyong, feeling like i won’t give it justice. but i’ve been wanting new jiyong fics heh

not proofread

breathe in, breathe out. that’s what you have been trying to do to regulate the overwhelming fear and stress from the last couple of months. you’ve had plenty of haters, critics and stalkers all up on your business, but not quite like this one. the stalker released personal information that almost cost you your house, as you stare at the plants that you’ve spent incredible attention so that they flourish. not only that, but he started threatening your life, posting photos of the weapons he will use on you.

which is why you’re currently laying on your bed, with countless guards all around your apartment, as well as the entry. what started as a two-week hiatus stretched into three months, as they still can’t pinpoint his location. your thoughts quiet down as the ringing becomes louder. it’s your manager. “hello? have you found him?” it was instinct at this point, asking about updates.

the person on the other side sighed, “no, but i received an interesting collaboration invite. i know that you can’t think about music at the moment, but i thought if i turn this one down without asking you, you’d come for my ass one day.” you were intrigued to say the least. “go on..”

“it’s g-dragon.” you jump up from your bed, your breath caught in your throat. “he’s making his comeback album, and he told us he would love to work with you, he’s a fan.” you feel your heart beat a little faster. you not only know about g-dragon, but you knew him as kwon jiyong too. you’ve met at several events, hitting it off as you found several shared interests. but he never asked for your number, nor did you.

you sat silently thinking about doing a collaboration with him, during this icky time where you don’t know how to go out without feeling hyper-aware of every eyeball pointed your way. but remembering his deep brown eyes got you agreeing. you missed singing, and you missed the presence of another human other than your bodyguards and manager. that’s all that it is, you tried reasoning with yourself.

~~~~

walking down to his studio, you felt nervous. there will be nothing between us, you breathed. you knocked, and almost immediately heard footsteps coming your way. he opened the door, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly. “hey.” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “hey” you smiled. he settled for a handshake, wanting to seem cool and casual. you felt vulnerable standing outside, and wanted to be engulfed with the safety of four walls as soon as possible. you couldn’t shake the uneasiness.

for the next few hours, thoughts of said stalker left you as you listened to his demo, discussed the essence of the song, which emotions he wanted the song to evoke. he was truly charming when he spoke with such passion. his eyes sparkled in a way that pulled you right into them, wanting to know the meaning behind some of the deeper sparkles in them. he has a habit of ruffling his hair or biting his thumb when he’s thinking, you thought to yourself.

the moment of admiration and peace came to a stop as your manager entered the studio with worried eyes. you knew. you excused yourself as you left the studio with her, feeling the overwhelming stress take over your senses. “he’s posted again. he was dumb enough to leave a big clue on where he is, but i’m not sure we’ll make it in time.” you felt yourself go numb. he’s on the run, he could be anywhere and you were not in the safety of your home. “hey” the brunette held you in place by the shoulders, “don’t worry. i’m here, you’re here and i will protect you no matter what.” she sighed “the safest place right now is in that studio” she left you frozen in place as your manager went to talk to the police.

after a few minutes, you regained your composure and went back in.

he could sense your change in demeanor, he could see it in the paleness of your once rosy cheeks, the lack of focus in your eyes. you sat in your chair, barely acknowledging the warm presence next to you. he stared at you for a few moments, trying to figure out what went wrong.

he was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a clap. “okay, let’s do this!” you try to look at him, unable to hold eye contact, feeling like you would cry if you did. “i think i got the gist of what you want in the song, i want to start on the lyrics right away- “(y/n)” you stopped midway, but still refused to fully look at him, the plushies on his sofa look way more interesting than his intuitive eyes. “(y/n), please look at me.” he tried again.

you don’t know if it was the pleading or the softness of his voice that made you give in. you slowly look at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes. his brows knit together in a frown, looking like a worried puppy. you bring your shaking hands to your face, covering the tears threatening to fall. “i’m so tired” your voice was raw and shaky.

all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms, to kiss away your precious tears...but he wanted you to be comfortable in being vulnerable with him and didn't want to scare you off.

"i just.." your voice was betraying your stance of resilience. that's when you felt a hand caressing the top of your head, so softly that you'd almost not notice if you weren't closing your eyes trying to suppress your tears. "i’ve been stalked for a while now, and yes i know, we have stalkers almost everywhere we go but this…he’s different.” you finally gain the courage to take your hands away from your face.

you carefully look at him, only to see his eyes already searching yours. “at first it was ‘normal’ stalking behavior but it progressed aggressively, from posting my whereabouts with possessive words to posting photos of me in the distance and a weapon pointed at my direction.” you heard him sharply inhale, like a dragon preparing to blow a huge fire on something, or someone. only then did you realize the close proximity that you’re in, his knees almost touching your thighs.

his eyes were no longer warm and inviting, you can almost see the protective fiery glistening. he gets up and leaves, leaving you dumbfounded. after what felt like hours, he came back. “i talked to my attorney, he works with some of the best detectives in seoul, and he will get the fucker on his knees in two days max.” he walked towards you, “until then, please allow me to escort you to the safest place i know, a house that not even my family knows about.” he stops in his tracks, his eyes widening at you. that’s when you realize your tears has betrayed you and are flowing freely down your face.

without thinking, he kneels down at where your sitting, and envelops you in the warmest embrace. it was right, protective, and everything you needed. sobs escaped as you held on to him, finally letting go. “i’m scared” you say almost incoherently, and you feel him pulling you closer, if it was even possible, as he drew comforting circles on your back. as he whispered protective promises, you felt your cries becoming hiccups, as you slowly calmed down.

he pulled away, only slightly, with one of his hands holding you while the other cupped you face, gently wiping your tears away. “i’m sorry that i didn’t know sooner” he breathed. “it’s okay” you choked. “no, it’s not. i have been following your updates, looking forward to anything that you do, wanting to approach you, but i never did.” he eyes moved down your lips for a moment then back to your eyes. “i should’ve asked your number the first day that i met you.” he confessed. it was your turn to stare at him wide-eyed.

“what do you…” you were once again aware of your close proximity. “mean?” you whispered, afraid talking any louder would give your feelings away. “i…liked you the first time i saw you, then started wanting more of you when i started talking to you. you amaze me, (y/n), truly.” he let you go, and you didn’t realize that you were holding your breath. “but i didn’t want to come off as weird, because, as weird as it sounds, im serious about you.”

you felt warmness spread from the center of your ribs outwards, enveloping you whole with new intense feelings. “well,” you breathed, “then that makes us two weirdos.” you brought your hand to hold his in place, afraid that he’ll run away with your confession, “i feel the same way about you” he felt his heartbeat speeding. “i like you too, jiyong. and i wanted to get your number way earlier on as well.”

you were almost blinded by his toothy smile, his eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights. and before you could return a smile, he pressed his lips on the space between your brows, sending an embarrassing blush from your cheeks down to your neck. he pulled back, ghostly brushing his thumb over your lower lip, and before you could prepare your heart, he closed in the distance.

he wanted it to be a gentle kiss, he really did, but he couldn’t get enough of you. he could almost taste the coffee you’ve had a while ago, and he wanted to devour all of you. he put one hand around the back of your neck and his other on your waist and kissed you harder, biting your lower lip for permission. but he didn’t need one, because you were so desperate to let him in. he was rough, his neediness seeping through the kiss.

you both got lost in the kiss, forgetting about the necessity of air. you reluctantly pull back, only enough for the both of you to breathe, as he rested his forehead on yours. “that was…” you were both smiling. you haven’t felt this safe and happy in a really long time, and you didn’t want to let go of him, ever. “so, you said you know of a safe place for me?” you can see the side of his mouth move upwards into a smirk, “eager, are we?” you hit the his elbow, giggling.

“we have plenty of time to get there, i want to take it slow, with you.” you looked away, your cheeks betraying you. you heard him laugh, “me too (y/n), and i’ve never felt this way about someone. i want to protect you, if you allow me to.” you reached for his hand, interlocking them, and adding a reassuring squeeze “you have no choice now, since i don’t think i can feel safe with anyone but you.” you still had one question lingering in your mind.

“hey…uhm, does that mean you didn’t really want to collaborate with me? like…using it as an excuse..?”. “no, i really love your music, and i really want to release music with you.” you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that what he said wasn’t true. “although, i’m not going to lie, i thought if you saw me doing what i do best, music, you would…like me.” you placed your hand on the top of his head, ruffling it.

“but i liked you for the way you talk, the way you try to involve everyone in the conversation, the way your eyes shine when you talk about your passions.” you were now stroking his cheek, “i liked the way you carried yourself, and i like you even more for the way that you can be vulnerable with me. i love your music, of course, but kwon jiyong is so much more than music.” you smiled.

he brought your palm to his lips, and kissed it. he was in trouble now. you were in trouble. because he believes that he won’t be able to let you go, ever.

#gdragon #kwon jiyong #bigbang #jiyongie #drabbles #scenarios #imagines #writing #oneshots #fanfic #gdragon power #g dragon #taeyang #daesung #mama 2024

579 notes · View notes

chrissssssmut · 4 months ago

Text

BOUNDED

Yandere Karina, Hanni, Danielle, Wonyoung, Liz, Chaewon and Yunjin x Male Reader

*SORRY I FINISHED THIS STORY WAY TOO FAST HAHAHAH but here enjoy!🙏*

You had never imagined your life would turn into something out of a K-drama. After your dad remarried, you suddenly found yourself with seven new stepsisters—each one impossibly beautiful and somehow way out of your league in terms of charm and charisma. At first, the arrangement was simple enough: they ignored you, rolling their eyes or tossing sharp remarks whenever you tried to bond with them. To them, you were just some awkward, out-of-place stepbrother who didn’t belong in their picture-perfect world.

“Don’t touch my stuff, oppa,” Wonyoung had said within the first week, drawing an invisible line around her side of the house.

“Do you even know how to use a dishwasher?” Hanni had teased one evening, earning giggles from Danielle and Liz.

Even Karina, the most composed of the group, had given you cold, detached stares whenever you tried to strike up a conversation.

It was fine. You figured they needed time to adjust, and honestly, so did you. Life went on, and you kept your head low, avoiding their world of glittering social events, designer wardrobes, and seemingly endless selfies.

But things changed when you grew up.

You weren’t the same awkward teen anymore. College life molded you into someone more confident, someone who knew how to dress well, speak up, and draw attention without even trying. Suddenly, your step sisters weren’t just tolerating you—they were noticing you.

It started with small, innocent gestures.

“Oppa, I made extra coffee. Want some?” Yunjin smiled one morning, sliding a cup toward you.

“You’ve been working out, haven’t you?” Chaewon commented one day, casually brushing past you in the hallway. “You look… different.”

Hanni started asking for your opinion on her outfits. Danielle insisted you join their movie nights. Wonyoung, who used to act like you didn’t exist, began hovering around you during family dinners, peppering you with questions about your day.

It felt harmless at first, even flattering. But soon, things began to escalate.

The Turning Point

You were excited for your first real date with a girl from your university. Her name was Mina—sweet, down-to-earth, and refreshingly normal compared to the chaos at home. But when you mentioned her name over dinner, the air in the dining room shifted.

“Who’s Mina?” Karina asked, her voice sharp despite her calm demeanor.

“She’s just a friend,” you replied casually, sensing the sudden tension.

“A friend?” Wonyoung repeated, her fork clinking against her plate. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“She’s not that important,” you said, trying to brush it off.

The next morning, Mina canceled on you.

“I’m so sorry,” she texted. “Something came up. Let’s reschedule?”

You were disappointed but didn’t think much of it—until you noticed Chaewon smirking at you from across the living room later that day.

“Plans didn’t work out?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Something about the way she said it made your stomach twist.

The more you tried to explore your social life, the tighter their grip became.

When you mentioned studying late at the library, Danielle would suddenly “accidentally” spill water on your laptop. “Oops, oppa! I guess you’ll have to stay home and fix that.”

When you came home with a new phone, Liz snatched it from your hands, scrolling through your messages before handing it back with a tight smile. “Just making sure you’re not texting anyone shady.”

And when you decided to crash at a friend’s place for the weekend, Yunjin and Chaewon appeared at your door that night, claiming they “missed you too much to stay apart.”

Every time you tried to push back, they found a way to pull you closer.

It wasn’t until Karina set the new house rules that things turned truly sinister.

“Oppa, it’s for your own good,” she said, her tone soft but unyielding. “You’re too naive. The world outside is dangerous.”

Before you could argue, Wonyoung locked the front door. The key disappeared after that.

Thrilling Descent

The days blurred together in a twisted routine. You weren’t allowed to leave the house, and your phone was constantly “misplaced.” Any attempt to escape or call for help was met with swift punishment.

“Why don’t you trust us?” Hanni whispered one night, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she blocked the hallway. “We only want to protect you.”

Whenever you refused to comply, they’d gang up on you. “If you’re going to be stubborn, oppa, we’ll have to keep a closer eye on you,” Liz said, leading you back to your room and locking the door behind you.

Their sweet smiles masked something darker—a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

An Attempt

One night, you found a chance to snuck out—a window left unlocked, a moment of freedom within reach. You climbed out, your heart pounding as you sprinted into the night.

But before you could reach the gate, Karina stepped out of the shadows, a sinister grin attached to her face.

“Oppa,” she said, her voice calm yet chilling. “Did you really think you could leave us?”

Behind her, the others emerged one by one, their faces shadowed but their intentions clear.

“You’re ours,” Wonyoung whispered, stepping closer. “And we’ll never let you out of our sight, brother.”

The night after Karina and the others caught you trying to sneak out, they didn’t say a word. They didn’t yell, they didn’t cry. Instead, they simply guided you back to the house, their eerie calmness unsettling. Karina spoke softly as she locked the door behind you.

“I hope you learned your lesson, oppa. We don’t want to hurt you. But if you push us, we’ll have no choice.”

Your heart pounded as you stood there, drenched and trapped. You knew you had to tell your dad. He’d understand, right? He had to.

The next morning, you managed to get him alone in his office before he left for yet another business trip.

“Dad, I need to talk to you,” you started, your voice trembling.

He looked up from his laptop, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, son? You look stressed.”

“It’s about… them. My stepsisters. They’ve been acting really strange. They’re controlling everything I do—they won’t let me leave the house. Last night, they even—”

Your dad sighed, cutting you off. “I know they can be a little overbearing, but they’re just being protective. They’re girls, you know? They worry about you.”

“Dad, it’s not normal. They—”

“Listen,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m proud of you for being mature about this. They’ve had a tough time adjusting, too. Give it time. And if it gets too much, just talk to them directly, okay? You’re all family now.”

You stared at him in disbelief, your stomach sinking. “Dad, you don’t understand—”

“I have to catch my flight,” he said, brushing past you. “We’ll talk when I get back. Be good to your sisters, alright? I love you, son.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you alone in the silence.

Your dad’s absence wasn’t unusual. His work took him overseas for months at a time, and your mom—always tied up in her own international projects—was equally distant. It left you entirely at the mercy of your stepsisters, who wasted no time tightening their grip.

“Did you tell Dad?” Hanni asked innocently later that day, sitting cross-legged on the couch with Danielle.

The way she looked at you—head tilted, smile too sweet—sent a chill down your spine.

“Of course he did,” Chaewon said from the kitchen, her voice light but laced with menace. “Not that it matters. Right, oppa?”

You clenched your fists, refusing to meet their eyes.

A New Plan

Desperation clawed at you as the days dragged on. Your phone was still missing, and every attempt to sneak out was thwarted before it even began. It was as if they always knew what you were planning.

One night, you overheard Karina and Yunjin talking in hushed voices near the stairs.

“He’s been quieter lately,” Karina said. “Good. He’s learning.”

“Still,” Yunjin replied, “we can’t let our guard down. He’s stubborn.”

You realized then that the only way to escape was to outsmart them—to make them think you’d given up.

For the next week, you played along.

You smiled when Wonyoung asked you to help her with her makeup routine, even letting her brush against your arm a little too much.

You joined Danielle and Hanni for movie nights, laughing at their jokes and pretending not to notice how they pressed themselves against you on the couch.

When Liz asked you to cook dinner with her, you obliged, biting back your frustration as she leaned over your shoulder, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re being so good lately, oppa,” Chaewon remarked one evening, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I like it.”

You forced a laugh. “Maybe I’m finally getting used to this family thing.”

Your chance came late one night when you spotted Yunjin leaving her room, keys dangling from her hand. She’d been careless, leaving her door ajar as she went downstairs.

Heart racing, you slipped inside her room and began searching. It didn’t take long to find what you were looking for: your phone, tucked away in her nightstand.

You grabbed it, your fingers shaking as you powered it on. A flood of notifications popped up—missed calls from friends, messages from Mina, and even emails from your professors wondering why you hadn’t shown up to class.

But before you could call for help, the door creaked open behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing, oppa?” Yunjin’s voice was soft, but the anger in her eyes was unmistakable.

You froze, clutching the phone tightly. “I… I just wanted to check something.”

She stepped closer, her expression darkening. “You’re lying.”

Before you could react, the others appeared behind her, one by one, their faces shadowed but their presence overwhelming.

“Oppa,” Karina said, her tone calm but cold. “We trusted you. And this is how you repay us?”

Wonyoung shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “Why would you do this to us?”

“I just wanted—”

“You don’t need anything outside of us,” Liz interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion.

Yunjin snatched the phone from your hand, tossing it to the floor. It shattered on impact, the sound echoing through the room.

“Enough,” Karina said, stepping forward. “It seems you still haven’t learned.”

A Dangerous Game

They didn’t lock you in your room this time. Instead, they kept you close, always watching, always near.

When you tried to retreat to the bathroom, Danielle stood outside the door, humming softly.

When you went to bed, Wonyoung insisted on sleeping in your room, claiming she “had nightmares.”

Everywhere you turned, one of them was there, their sweet smiles masking something darker.

“You’ll see, oppa,” Chaewon whispered one night as she tucked the blanket around you, her fingers lingering on your arm. “We’re all you’ll ever need.”

The realization hit you like a tidal wave: there was no escaping them. Not while you were under this roof.

But you weren’t giving up.

Not yet.

The days turned into weeks, and you quickly learned that resistance only made things worse. The sisters weren’t just possessive—they were meticulous, calculating every move you made as if it were a game of chess. You were the pawn, and they were the queens, slowly closing in on you.

“You don’t need anyone else,” Hanni whispered one evening, brushing a lock of hair away from your face as you sat trapped on the couch. Danielle was curled up beside you, her head resting on your shoulder.

“We’re all you’ll ever need, oppa,” Danielle added, her voice a soft melody that sent chills down your spine.

They controlled every aspect of your life now. Your meals were prepared by them, your wardrobe was chosen by them, and your free time was spent under their watchful eyes. Any attempt to rebel was met with swift punishment.

One night, you tried breaking a window to escape, but before you could climb out, Karina and Yunjin dragged you back into the house, their strength surprising.

“We warned you, oppa,” Karina said, her voice icy. “You’re ours. Why can’t you just accept that?”

Yunjin smirked, holding up the shards of broken glass. “If you’re going to act like a child, we’ll have to treat you like one.”

They locked you in your room for three days after that, only letting you out when you promised—no, begged—to behave.

Your mental state began to deteriorate. The isolation, the constant surveillance, the manipulation—it was suffocating. You found yourself second-guessing everything, wondering if maybe they were right.

“We’re just trying to protect you, oppa,” Liz said one afternoon as she caressed your hair, her touch oddly soothing. “The outside world is so dangerous. People out there… they don’t love you like we do.”

“Love?” you repeated, your voice hollow.

Wonyoung nodded, her eyes wide and earnest. “Of course we love you. More than anyone else ever could.”

It was in the way they said it—in their unwavering gazes and saccharine smiles—that made you realize just how far they were willing to go.

The Birthday Incident

Your birthday was supposed to be a moment of reprieve, a chance to reconnect with the world outside. Instead, it became the turning point—the moment you truly understood there was no escape.

They threw you a party, decorating the house with balloons and streamers. The dining table was piled high with your favorite foods, and a cake sat in the center, candles flickering.

“Make a wish, oppa!” Danielle chirped, clapping her hands.

As you closed your eyes, you thought of freedom. Of running far, far away from this nightmare.

But when you opened your eyes, the sight before you made your blood run cold.

Your phone was there, fixed and placed neatly beside the cake. For a moment, hope flared in your chest.

“You’re letting me have my phone back?” you asked cautiously.

Karina smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. It’s your special day.”

You grabbed it, your fingers trembling as you powered it on. The screen lit up, and you quickly navigated to your messages.

Only to find them empty.

No calls, no texts, no contacts.

“What… what did you do?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“We cleaned it up for you,” Yunjin said, leaning casually against the table. “No distractions. Just us.”

Your stomach churned as you looked at them, their smiles widening as realization dawned.

“This isn’t love,” you said, your voice trembling. “This is… this is insane.”

Wonyoung tilted her head, her expression almost pitying. “Oh, oppa. You’ll understand someday.”

From that day on, they tightened their grip even further. The locks on the doors were reinforced. The windows were barred. Every move you made was monitored, every word you spoke carefully scrutinized.

When you tried to rebel, they punished you—not with violence, but with manipulation.

“We’re only doing this because we love you,” Chaewon whispered one night as she held your hand, her grip firm. “Why can’t you see that?”

And when you begged for your freedom, they only smiled.

“You don’t need freedom,” Karina said, her voice soft but unyielding. “You have us.”

The Final Descent

One stormy evening, as thunder rumbled in the distance, you sat in the living room, surrounded by them. They were laughing, talking, acting like everything was normal. But you couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’ve ruined my life,” you said suddenly, your voice cutting through the laughter.

The room fell silent.

“Oppa,” Hanni said softly, her eyes wide. “Why would you say that?”

“You’ve trapped me here,” you continued, your voice rising. “This isn’t a family. This is a prison.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Karina stood, her expression unreadable as she walked over to you.

“Oppa,” she said, crouching down so she was at eye level. “You need to understand something.”

Her hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You belong to us. And we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it takes.”

The others nodded in unison, their gazes unwavering.

And in that moment, as the storm raged outside and their words echoed in your ears, you realized the truth.

There was no escape…for now..

The storm outside grew more violent, the howling winds rattling the barred windows. As the sisters began retreating to their rooms for the night, you felt the familiar weight of hopelessness settle in your chest. But tonight, something was different. As you stared out the window, lightning briefly illuminated the outside—the gate was ajar. Maybe one of them had forgotten to lock it after bringing in groceries earlier. It was a slim chance, but it was a chance nonetheless.

You waited until the house fell silent, the sisters presumably asleep. Silently, you slipped on your sneakers, heart pounding as you made your way down the creaking staircase. Every sound felt deafening in the stillness, but you couldn’t stop now.

When you reached the door, you froze. The key was still in the lock. A miracle. With shaking hands, you turned it slowly, praying they wouldn’t hear the faint click as the lock disengaged. The moment it did, you pushed the door open and bolted into the storm.

The rain was cold, soaking you instantly as you sprinted down the driveway and toward the open gate. Freedom was within reach. The pounding of your heart drowned out the thunder as you crossed the threshold, stepping into the empty street beyond.

But then, headlights.

You turned just in time to see a car barreling toward you, the driver unable to stop in the rain-slicked road. The impact was sudden and brutal, sending you sprawling onto the pavement. Pain exploded through your body as darkness consumed you.

Waking in a Nightmare

When you finally came to, the bright lights of the hospital room burned your eyes. The beeping of monitors echoed faintly in your ears, and your body felt heavy, restrained by the weight of painkillers and bandages.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said, and you turned your head to see a nurse standing by your bedside. She smiled kindly, adjusting the IV line in your arm. “You’re lucky. The accident could’ve been much worse.”

For a moment, relief washed over you. You’d escaped. You’d finally gotten away.

“Where am I?” you croaked, your throat dry.

“The city hospital,” the nurse replied. “You’ve been here for a few days. Don’t worry, we’ve been taking good care of you.”

You tried to sit up, but the pain in your ribs forced you back down. “My parents… Did you call them?”

The nurse hesitated, glancing at the clipboard in her hands. “We tried contacting your parents, but they’re both out of the country and couldn’t be reached. So, we contacted the next closest people to you.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

Before you could finish, the door to your room creaked open. One by one, they walked in—Karina, Wonyoung, Hanni, Chaewon, Yunjin, Danielle, Liz. Their perfect faces were painted with expressions of concern, but there was something sinister lurking beneath their sweet smiles.

“Oppa!” Wonyoung cried, rushing to your bedside. ��We were so worried about you!”

“You should’ve told us you were leaving,” Karina said, her tone soft yet reproachful. “We could’ve kept you safe.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Yunjin added, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

You stared at them in disbelief, your heart hammering in your chest. “How… How did you find me?”

“We’re family, oppa,” Chaewon said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We always know where to find you.”

Danielle leaned over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You scared us, you know. But it’s okay. You’re safe now. And we’re not letting you out of our sight again.”

You looked toward the nurse, desperate for help, but she only smiled. “Your sisters have been here every day, taking care of you. You’re lucky to have such a loving family.”

“No,” you whispered, panic rising. “They’re not my family. They’re—”

Hanni shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shh, oppa. Don’t upset yourself. You need to rest.”

The nurse nodded. “She’s right. You need to focus on recovering. Your sisters will make sure you have everything you need.”

You wanted to scream, to beg the nurse to call the police, but your body betrayed you, too weak to fight back. The sisters crowded closer, their presence suffocating.

Karina leaned in, her hand brushing against yours. “Don’t worry, oppa. We’ll take you home soon. Everything will be just like it was before.”

“No,” you rasped, tears streaming down your face. “Please. Let me go.”

But their smiles only widened.

“You’re ours,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “Forever.”

The days that followed were a blur of enforced care. The sisters rarely left your side, taking turns watching over you. Karina handled the paperwork for your discharge, ensuring you’d return home as soon as possible. Hanni and Yunjin fed you, their hands lingering a little too long as they helped you eat. Wonyoung fluffed your pillows, her touch oddly tender, while Danielle played soft music to “help you relax.”

You quickly realized there was no escape. Not here, not in the hospital, and certainly not once they took you back to the house. The accident had sealed your fate, tethering you to them in a way that felt unbreakable.

As they wheeled you out of the hospital on the day of your discharge, you saw the car waiting for you—sleek, black, and ominous. Karina held the door open, her smile as sweet as poison.

“Welcome home, oppa,” she said softly.

The ride home from the hospital felt suffocating. The rain poured down in sheets, blurring the windows of the van Karina had insisted they use to bring you back. You were silent, your leg still throbbing in its cast, while the others chatted in low voices, as if you weren’t even there.

“Don’t worry, oppa,” Wonyoung chirped from the front seat, turning her head to give you a sweet but unsettling smile. “We’ve made some changes to the house. You’ll love it.”

Your stomach twisted at her words. You had been too weak to resist when they insisted on signing you out of the hospital and taking you home. The nurse’s words still rang in your ears:

“They’re your family now, and they seemed so concerned about you. You’re lucky to have them.”

Lucky. You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, as the van pulled into the driveway. The house loomed in the darkness, its windows casting faint, flickering light like the eyes of a predator waiting for its prey.

The moment the van stopped, Chaewon and Danielle were by your side, unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you into the wheelchair. Their hands were gentle, almost too careful, but you could feel the iron grip of their control in every movement.

“Careful, oppa,” Danielle murmured, tucking a blanket around your lap. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

The door to the house opened, and Yunjin stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the lights inside. “Welcome home,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of finality.

As they wheeled you inside, your breath caught in your throat. The house you remembered was gone. The cozy warmth and modern elegance had been replaced by something much darker. The walls were painted a muted gray, the windows draped with heavy blackout curtains that allowed no glimpse of the outside world.

But it was the dining room that sent a chill down your spine.

The large dining table had been modified—no, transformed. Each chair was outfitted with thick leather straps on the armrests and legs, as well as a wide belt across the backrest. The table itself had been cleared of its usual decorations, leaving only an eerie emptiness that seemed to magnify the oppressive atmosphere.

“What is this?” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“It’s for your own safety, oppa,” Karina said, stepping in front of you. Her expression was calm, almost soothing, but her eyes betrayed something far more chilling.

“You’re so clumsy,” Wonyoung added with a giggle, her hand brushing against your shoulder as she leaned closer. “We can’t risk you running off and getting hurt again.”

They wheeled you to one of the chairs, and Chaewon knelt beside you, her fingers brushing your cast as she smiled. “See? This way, you’ll always be safe. Always with us.”

Your body tensed as Liz and Hanni began strapping you in, their movements precise and practiced. You tried to resist, but your weakened state made it impossible to fight them off. The straps were snug but not painful, their tightness a cruel reminder of how little freedom you had left.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We do, oppa,” Yunjin said from behind you, her tone soft but unyielding. “You don’t understand yet, but you will. We’re all you need.”

Bound Forever

As the final strap was secured, Karina crouched down in front of you, her hands resting lightly on your knees. “This is your home now. There’s nothing out there for you—nothing but pain and loneliness. But here… here you’re loved. Here you’re safe.”

Tears burned in your eyes as the reality of your situation sank in. There would be no more escape attempts, no more fleeting moments of hope. The house had become your prison, and your step sisters were its wardens.

“We’ll take care of you, oppa,” Wonyoung said, her voice almost a whisper as she kissed your cheek.

“Forever,” Chaewon added, her fingers brushing against your hair.

As they stood around you, their smiles unwavering and their eyes filled with an unsettling devotion, you realized the horrifying truth: you weren’t just bound to them by straps or walls. You were bound by their obsession, and there was no escaping it.

Not now. Not ever.

443 notes · View notes