#if you are reading this then sorry for mentioning are relationship

[cheftsunoda]

hiii!

I love your writing sooo much and I just had an idea for a story with Lando (if you write for him)

The idea came to me when I was watching one of his interviews in which he gets asked if he likes cats or dogs and he says that he's DEFINITELY a dog person and hates cats (which should be a crime imo)

Anyway I was wondering if you could write a story in which the reader LOVEEEES cats and Lando likes reader a lot but they tell him that they refuse to date someone who doesn’t like cats so Lando tries to charm/befriend their cat/cats

nine lives — ln4

lando norris x !cat lover reader

smau + blurbs

You’ve always said you could forgive many things in a relationship—bad taste in music, questionable cooking, even the occasional forgotten anniversary. But not liking cats? Unforgivable. Which is why, when a clip of Lando—your boyfriend of almost a year—where he boldly declares “I just don’t trust cats. They stare at you like they’re plotting your death.”, your phone practically explodes with notifications. And right in the middle of your peaceful Sunday morning, curled up in bed with four purring furballs and one very smug grey baby sprawled on your chest, Lando walks into the room holding his phone like it’s ticking.

“They’re all sending me this video,” he says, deadpan. “And now half the internet thinks we’re about to break up because I disrespected Mister Whiskers the Third.”

You blink at him. “You did. And you disrespected me.”

And that’s when he sighs—loudly, dramatically—and looks your cats in the eye like he’s facing his greatest challenge yet.

“I guess I’m gonna have to win them over, huh?”

fc : random pinterest girlies

(a/n) : hi babyyyyyy. thanks for the love:) i am a huge cat person so this was very fun for me to write. my cat was stepping on my keyboard keys as i was literally trying to type it out. LMAOOO

ALSO NOT MY DUMBASS HAVING THIS EDITED AND READY FOR TWO DAYS AND NOT REALIZING. IM SO SORRY.

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lando’s ‘undercover’ GQ interview — 6/23/2025

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It starts innocently enough. You’re lounging on the couch in your sunlit living room, a tabby curled against your hip, a calico stretched across your feet, and your ancient, grumpy Persian—Count Meowcula—curled up like a loaf of bread on the coffee table. Lando is still asleep upstairs, likely tangled in the duvet with his mouth slightly open and hair sticking up like a dandelion. You’re scrolling through your phone when the first tag pops up.

@/username000 : NOT LANDO SAYING HE HATES CATS 💀💀💀 @/yourusername come get your man pls

You furrow your brows and click the link.

It’s a recent clip, from the GQ interview he just did the other day. The interviewer shows him an old clip of himself.

And the younger Lando on the video, without missing a beat, replies with boyish arrogance, “Dogs, obviously. Cats are evil. I don’t trust them. They just sit there and judge you.”

Your jaw drops a little. “Excuse me?”

He goes on—oh, he goes on.

“They’re always knocking things off tables. Like, why? For what reason? I could never live with a cat. I’d be on edge all the time.”

You blink at the screen, stunned. A moment later, your mentions erupt like fireworks.

@/username00 : so like… yn owns FIVE cats and lando said THIS?????

@/username0 : the betrayal. the slander. does Count Meowcula know??

@/username1 : if my man ever said this about cats i’d simply let them scratch his eyes out 😭

You let out a little laugh—half horrified, half amused—and glance around the room. As if sensing drama, your youngest cat, a tiny grey kitten named Pickles, climbs onto your lap and stares directly into your phone screen like she’s reading the replies.

“I know,” you murmur to her. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

Almost on cue, heavy footsteps pad down the stairs. You hear a yawn, then a groggy voice.

“Morning…” Lando steps into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’s in one of your hoodies and a pair of mismatched socks, hair a complete mess.

You swivel your phone toward him, the video paused on the exact moment he says, “Cats are evil.”

He squints. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Lando flops face first onto the couch beside you, groaning into a throw pillow. “I was, like, twenty! I didn’t know better!”

“The internet disagrees.” You smirk, holding your phone up as notifications keep pouring in. “You’ve got approximately two million cat lovers and a grumpy Count Meowcula very disappointed in you.”

Lando turns his head, eyes squinting at the Persian cat who is, indeed, staring at him with an expression of utter betrayal.

“I told him it was an old interview,” you say solemnly. “He doesn’t care.”

“I’ll never earn his forgiveness, will I?”

“Not unless you make amends.”

He sits up dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Then I have no choice. I must… bond with the cats.”

“Oh?” you tease. “The same cats who are evil? The ones you can’t trust?”

“I was young! I was foolish!” He throws himself at your feet in mock agony. “Please, my love, allow me to prove myself to you—and to Pickles. And to Mr. Whiskers. And… Count Meowcula.” He pauses.

“God, why do they all sound like retired supervillains?”

“Because they are.”

Pickles meows at him, unimpressed. Lando slowly sits back up, adjusting his hoodie and patting his lap. “Alright. I’m ready. Send me your softest warrior.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“I’m ready to face the consequences of my words,” he says solemnly. “Bring me the cats.”

One by one, like some ceremonial trial, the cats are introduced. Pickles curls up beside him without protest. Mr. Whiskers claws his leg once, just for good measure, and then lays on his foot. Count Meowcula eyes him for a solid three minutes before climbing onto his lap and promptly falling asleep.

You grab your phone and take a picture of the scene—Lando sitting stiff as a board, surrounded by cats, one paw resting over his knee like a warning.

Moments later, the tweet goes viral. The top reply?

@/alex_albon : petition for Lando to do a cat photoshoot in apology form.

You grin and show it to him.

“Absolutely not,” Lando mutters as Mr. Whiskers licks his hand. “Okay. Maybe. Only if I get to wear the little ears too.”

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yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 1,201,005 others.

yourusername : should i leave this muppet because he doesn’t like my babies?

tagged : lando

—

view 72,075 other comments.

alex_albon : yes. absolutely. dump him. lily and i will take you and your cats in.

liked by yourusername and lilymhe

↳ yourusername : omw to the albon farm where me and my 5 children will be APPRECIATED.

liked by alex_albon and lilymhe

↳ lando : HEY HEY WE DO NOT HAVE TO GO THIS FAR

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : i am like the cat whisperer now. ask pickles.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : you screamed when mr whiskers jumped up on the couch behind you. mans was just existing.

liked by alex_albon

↳ lando : HE STARTLED ME.

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 : leave him. now. i want to see him walking down the road with one of those hobo sacks.

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : OH MY GOD. YOU ARE ALL SO OVERDRAMATIC. I WAS YOUNG.

↳ maxverstappen1 : do not care. you still said it.

liked by yourusername

username00 : i take it he is still in alot of trouble yn

↳ yourusername : oh yes. very much so. sleeping on the couch currently.

liked by maxverstappen1 and alex_albon

↳ maxverstappen1 : make him sleep on the sidewalk.

liked by yourusername and username00

lando : I AM SORRY BABYYYYY DO NOT LEAVE ME. I NEED YOU AND YOUR 5 CHILDREN.

liked by yourusername

alexandrasaintmleux : leave lando. not bc of the cat thing but just so you can date me😻

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : ALEX. OUT. DO NOT TRY TO WIN OUT ON MY MISFORTUNE.

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

oscarpiastri : I, for one, stand for feline rights. #teampickles

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc: just wait til she has a conversation with zhou about this…

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, yourusername and zhouguanyu24

↳ zhouguanyu24 : oh i already know and sweetcorn and i are offended deeply

↳ lando : BROOOOOOOO

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f1gossipgirls

liked by yourusername and 1,100,100 others.

f1gossipgirls : Lando on live tonight with YN’s kitten Pickles!

tagged : lando and yourusername

—

view 175,007 other comments.

username000 : pickles pawing him in the head killed me #teampickles

liked by yourusername

username00 : @/yourusername you are so powerful. he went from hating cats to calling pickles his son in a matter of a week

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : that’s what good pussy does…bad joke?

liked by lando and username00

username0 : pickles had more screen time than max 😭

liked by yourusername and maxfewtrell

username1 : HE DID THE BABY VOICE AWWWWW

liked by yourusername

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The stream wasn’t even supposed to happen. It started because Max texted Lando “go live you coward I miss your face”, and then fifteen minutes later Lando was setting up his webcam while you sat cross legged on the couch, cradling Pickles in your lap like royalty. You had no intention of being on camera—until Pickles decided to launch himself from your arms and climb straight up Lando’s hoodie mid-intro.

“AH—oh my god—HE’S IN MY SHIRT,” Lando yelps, half-laughing, half-panicking, while you scramble into frame trying to extract the tiny menace from his hood. The comments explode instantly.

@/username0000 : IS THAT PICKLES??

@/username000: this is already the best stream of the year

You finally wrestle the kitten free and sit down beside Lando, both of you breathless from laughing. Pickles, smug as ever, curls into a perfect ball on Lando’s shoulder like he owns the place.

“He’s… decided to stay,” Lando mutters, eyes wide. “I’m not moving for the rest of the stream.”

“That’s called growth,” you tease. “You used to call him a demon.”

“I still think he is,” Lando says. “He’s just my demon now.”

Then Max joins the call. And everything goes downhill.

“Oi,” Max says, grinning into his camera. “Am I interrupting domestic bliss?”

“Pickles almost crawled into my ribcage five minutes ago,” Lando replies. “So yes, but it’s fine.”

You wave at Max. “Hi Max. I saved your best friend from a feline induced death.”

“Legend,” Max says with a wink. “Though if Pickles had finished the job, I’d finally win our Fantasy league.”

Lando flips him off. The chat goes wild. Over the next half hour, it descends into total chaos. Lando’s trying to game, Max is throwing shade, and you’re in the background trying to keep Pickles from knocking over an open can of Monster with the energy of a feral toddler. At one point a conversation sparks.

Max started. “So YN, how many cats is too many cats?”

You thought for a moment. ”Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten.”

Lando spits out his drink, “TEN?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying. We have the space.”

Max laughed. “This is how it starts. First it’s one kitten, next thing you know, you’re on a reality show called My Strange Addiction..’”

You laughed, “I’d watch my episode.”

Lando sighed heavily, “Don’t give her ideas, she’s already been measuring out a catio for the balcony.”

The chat is unhinged at this point.

@/username11: lando is literally becoming the cat dad he swore he’d never be and I love it

Then Pickles decides to crawl back onto Lando’s lap mid game, and instead of pushing him off, Lando just says, “Okay okay buddy, you can sit there, just don’t touch the mouse—”

Immediately, Pickles touches the mouse. Lando loses the round. Max howls laughing.

“I’ve been sabotaged,” Lando groans. “By my own child.”

You hand him a tiny sweater. “He earned this.”

Lando holds up the sweater to the camera—soft knit, neon orange, a little lightning bolt stitched across the back.

“It’s giving superhero sidekick,” Max says. “He needs a cape.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you say, already pulling out your phone to text your Etsy supplier.

By the end of the stream, Pickles is asleep on Lando’s chest, purring, and Lando’s stroking his tiny head absentmindedly while bickering with Max about who cheated in karting back in 2015.

“He’s so gone,” Max mouths into the camera, pointing at Lando, who doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy whispering, “You’re my best mate, but if you ever touch my mouse again, I swear—” to a literal sleeping kitten.

The final shot before the stream ends? Lando kissing the top of Pickles’ head without even realizing he’s doing it. The comments explode. And the clip goes viral.

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You come home expecting the usual—a trail of cat toys on the stairs, a half consumed cup of Lando’s coffee on the kitchen counter, and Pickles dramatically lounging in your spot on the couch. What you don’t expect is Lando standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back and the guiltiest grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you ask instantly.

“Why do you assume I did something?” he replies, rocking on his heels.

“You only smile like that when you’ve either crashed a scooter or spent a suspicious amount of money.”

“I prefer the term invested.”

You narrow your eyes. “Lando…”

He takes your hand. “Okay. Just… come with me.”

He leads you to the balcony, practically vibrating with excitement. The sliding doors are already open, and the cats are pacing back and forth like they know something’s up. And then you see it. A catio.

Not just any catio. A custom, multi-level, architectural wonderland that stretches across half the balcony. There’s a tunnel system, clear bubble pods for sunbathing, platforms shaped like trophies, and tiny nameplates engraved for each cat. At the top—of course—is Count Meowcula, looking down on his kingdom like he’s about to demand taxes.

You blink. “Lando. What the hell is this?”

“It’s a Catio 2.0,” he says proudly. “Designed it with a guy from Reddit. Don’t ask how much it cost.”

You turn to him, stunned.

“And this?” you say, gesturing to the racing stripe hammock that literally says “PICKLES’ PAD.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay that part was my idea. And the tiny pit wall.”

There is a tiny pit wall. You burst out laughing, hand over your mouth. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He shrugs, pulling you into a hug. “You said they deserved fresh air and enrichment. And I figured… if I’m gonna be a cat dad, I might as well go all in.”

You lean up and kiss him, dizzy with love. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he grins. “But you love me anyway.”

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It started as a joke. You were scrolling through Instagram with Lando one night, curled up on the couch while Pickles aggressively kneaded his thigh. Zhou had just posted yet another selfie with Sweetcorn, his fluffy, spoiled cat, perched on his shoulder like a queen.

Lando squinted at the screen. “I’m starting to think Zhou loves that cat more than he loves people.”

You smirked. “I respect it. Honestly, I love sweetcorn too.”

“Okay, weird. But what if we got him, like… a Sweetcorn pillow?” Lando said, half joking, half serious.

You stared at him. “Wait. That’s actually genius.”

Two weeks later, the package arrives.

A two foot long plush pillow—an eerily accurate, almost too realistic version of Sweetcorn, down to the slightly tilted ears and smug expression. You nearly cry laughing when you pull it out of the box. Lando holds it up like he’s presenting Simba.

“We’ve peaked,” he declares. “This is our legacy.”

You’re both waiting outside the Ferrari hospitality unit when Zhou walks up, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, completely unprepared.

Lando grins. “Got you a present.”

Zhou raises a brow. “What’d you do?”

Then you pull the pillow out from behind your back and hold it up proudly.

Zhou stops. Blinks. Takes off his sunglasses in slow motion.

“You did not.”

“Oh, we did,” you laugh. “Meet… travel-sized Sweetcorn.”

Zhou stares at the pillow, mouth open, completely speechless. Then, without a word, he drops his coffee and takes the pillow in his arms like a long lost child.

“I’m never sleeping alone again,” he says.

Lando bursts out laughing. “We made it extra squishy so you’d get maximum cuddle support.”

Zhou is still cradling the pillow, already doing voices— “‘Who needs anyone when I’ve got you, Sweetcorn 2.0.’”

You snap a picture of him holding the pillow like a baby, and before long it’s all over social media.

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lando

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 4,001,008 others.

lando : i have made amends with all the cat people in my life. built a catio, traveled to the albon farm and got zhou a mini sweetcorn. and i can say i finally understand why max broke down the door for his cat children.

tagged : alex_albon, yourusername, maxverstappen1 and zhouguany24

—

view 175,001 other comments.

yourusername : this is the man i love. covered in cat hair.

liked by lando

lando : god i hate how i will do literally anything for you

liked by yourusername

yourusername : love you lannnnnnn

liked by lando

maxverstappen1 : and id break ten more doors.

liked by yourusername and lando

alex_albon : you still flinched when one of ours sneezed but we made progress so idc

liked by yourusername and lando

zhouguanyu24 : mini sweetcorn sleeps beside me every night. nothing will ever top this gift.

liked by yourusername and lando

yukitsunoda0511 : yn!! do you think we can get him to go to the cat cafe in tokyo??

liked by yourusername

lando : no

yourusername : if you love me you will

liked by yukitsunoda0511

lando : GOD damnit

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[simpforrooster]

i fucking knew it.

aaron hotchner x f!reader

summary: you and aaron have secretly been dating for a while—and the team is starting to suspect it.

t/w: 18+. MDNI. light smut (plz don’t come for me, it was my first time writing something like it), a mention of an age-gap, some cursing, mentions of criminals. i don’t think there is too much gender identifying language, but i did imagine a female while writing.

a/n: i had no idea where this one was gonna go. i hope you enjoy!!

aaron hotchner catches your gaze over the manila folder he’s holding. to the average person, they wouldn’t think twice about this action.

but, you know better.

his eyes hold yours for a few seconds longer, before he resumes reading the details of the case.

the lowlights of the jet’s interior mask the flush that’s appeared on your cheeks. hotch feigns a stretch, his shoe tapping yours slightly as he crosses his leg.

“sorry,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off the folder.

you wave him off, knowing your voice would betray you.

i saw that, your phone buzzes with a text from jj.

it was an accident, you reply.

yeah right, emily shares.

what! what’s happening? gosh, i hate that i’m stuck in the lair, penelope adds.

hotch smirks at his folder, affirming he knows exactly why your phone is blowing up.

the two of you have managed to keep your relationship under wraps for the past couple of months, but the girls have started to suspect something. rossi too, but you can’t be certain.

aaron caught your eye as soon as you started at the bau. you’d learn that you’d caught his almost instantly. but he was your boss, and there was the age difference.

several late nights of him helping you with your reports and chinese takeout, you fell for one another.

oh, nothing. just hotch thinking he’s being subtle, jj tells penelope.

~

“three rooms?” hotch asks the tired man behind the desk.

“take it or leave it, man. it’s 2 am,” the clerk says on a yawn.

“i call reid and rossi!” derek sticks his hand in the air. emily reaches out to jj’s arm and pulls her into her side.

rossi shakes his head and exchanges a look with aaron. “which one of you boys are sleeping on the floor?”

hotch looks at you apologetically, but you see the underlying want behind those brown eyes.

“i guess that leaves us,” hotch murmurs to his bag, trying to remain unbothered. he grabs your duffle and starts toward the elevator.

your phone buzzes in your back pocket.

one bedroom trope! emily sends to the group.

epee! penelope replies.

he grabbed her bag, pen! jj shares.

aaron has never once carried anyone’s bag to a hotel room. his gaze catches yours over his shoulder telling you he realizes the implications. his stoic expression returns as you all enter the elevator.

~

the girls, reid, morgan, and rossi get off at the third floor, leaving you and aaron in the elevator alone. not before jj shoots you a wink. hotch visibly relaxes, and gives you one of those smiles he reserves only for you and jack.

"we're on another floor? that's really going to set the girls off," you comment. aaron shrugs like the duffle bag gave it all away and yall should just fuck the secrecy. he takes a step closer to you. back-to-back cases have kept the two of you from any quality time that wasn't outside of a police precinct and the tension radiates off him.

aaron leads you down the hall once the elevator doors open on the fourth floor. his giant hand engulfs yours, and you can't wait to get into the room.

"this is us," he gestures toward the door. dropping your hand, he pulls the keycard from his pocket. swiping y'all in, he pulls you into the room.

as soon as the door closes behind you, you're being pushed against it.

"god, I've been dying to get my hands on your for days," hotch groans against your mouth. you answer him with a small moan you tried to keep in.

you push his suit jacket off his shoulders, then grip his tie. using his tie, you pull him completely flush against you. his tall body is all over you. there is no spot where his body isn't touching yours.

“tell the criminals to take a break,” you breathe. “you almost blew it at the precinct in the last case.”

aaron moves his kisses along the side of your neck. “that officer was getting a little too friendly with you.”

“but a couple hair flips had him on our side, yeah?” you’re breathless with the work aaron is making of your neck. at the mention of your harmless flirting, his arms tighten possessively around you. his mouth moves lower along your collarbone, sucking lightly. he’s learned where most of your shirt collars lie so he can hide the marks he leaves on you.

aaron pulls you from the door, kissing you like you’re his lifeline. he walks you back until the back of your knees hit the bed. “no more work talk, baby,” he says against your mouth. heat pulls in your lower belly at the pet name and a sigh escapes.

the first time aaron called you anything but your last name, you could have climbed him right then. he still uses your last name, or just agent, in the field, but it’s softer than it used to be.

as aaron pushes you back on the bed, you make quick work removing his tie and dress shirt. the white shirt he wears underneath pulls across his chest. your arms move over his biceps reveling in just how nice they are.

“you like what you see?” aaron smirks, his hand slipping under your top.

you answer him with a hand on his chin, guiding him to your lips. “always,” you breathe.

he smiles against your lips. “why don’t we get you a little more comfortable,” he says, pulling your top off and throwing it to the other side of the room. you’re pretty sure it lands on the lamp. this earns a laugh. aaron checks over his shoulder and chuckles along with you.

“i told you, i need to get my hands on you.” he reaches behind you, unclasping your bra. which follows the same trajectory as your shirt.

“hmm, this isn’t quite fair,” you murmur. you push aaron back until you’re sitting up in his lap. your thighs settle on either side of his, and his hands fall to them, giving them a light squeeze.

“tell me.”

“you still have your shirt on,” you tell him, running your hands along his chest. aaron reaches back with one hand and pulls the undershirt from his body. it’s so insanely sexy, your mouth drops open. how is this guy real?

aaron chuckles again. “you never cease to amaze me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re practically an adonis.”

he rolls his eyes and pulls you flush against him. “you’re talkative tonight.” he presses a kiss under your ear. you crane your neck to give him more access.

“i always talk a lot when i’m nervous,” you admit. truthfully, there is nothing to be nervous about. you and aaron have slept together plenty of times since you’ve gotten together. this is, however, the first time while you’re on a case.

aaron pulls back and studies your face. “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, baby.” his brown eyes search yours. the want in his is palpable. you’re certain the same is reflected in yours. your hands knot in his hair and you guide his mouth to yours.

“no, i want to. i need to,” you say, rolling your hips into his, his erection has your cheeks flushing. “i just still can’t believe it’s happening. you and me,” you admit.

aaron kisses you. it’s full of wanting and urgency, as if he’s afraid you’re going to disappear right beneath his fingertips.

“you and me were destined the moment i laid eyes on you,” he says, laying you back and settling between your legs.

~

the next morning, there is just enough time to grab some continental breakfast before meeting the local pd. normally, you don’t like to waste time on something as menial as breakfast, especially with a serial killer on the loose, but you and aaron had a lot of time to make up for and you’d built up quite the appetite.

you left aaron with a chaste kiss on his cheek in the room, before joining everyone in the lobby sans duffle.

“well, you’re glowing,” jj comments as you join her and emily at the table. derek turns from where he’s sitting with rossi and reid. “what’s that?”

emily points to you with her fork. “look at her. a literal ray of sunshine.”

“she looks normal to me,” reid comments. “if not a little worn down. are you feeling okay, y/l/n?” your eyes fall closed, trying to keep your emotions regulated.

“that, reid, is post-coital bliss,” derek says.

“yall have no idea what you’re talking about,” you tell them, praying your cheeks haven’t turned pink, because they’re exactly right.

rossi jumps in to save you. “come on boys and girls. let’s not make claims of our unit chief breaking fraternization rules on a case unless we’re sure,” he chides. he gives you a knowing look. aaron has definitely let rossi know what’s been going on. hell, if you didn’t know any better, rossi was probably the one who pushed aaron to finally make a move. you shoot him a grateful look.

“who’s breaking fraternization rules?” a deep voice sounds from behind you. just the sound of his voice has you wanting to drag him back up to the room. “baby, you’ve got to have more than that,” aaron comments on your lone piece of toast.

your face jerks towards him at baby. aaron curses lightly under his breath. a rare slip up from mr. professional himself. he stands there with both your duffels in his hands, his shoulder slumped in defeat.

derek smacks the table, cause the front desk workers to look over. “i fucking knew it!!”

your head falls into your hands. aaron’s laugh reverberates through the lobby. his real, earnest laugh. “well, i did good for a while there, huh, babe?” he says to you. leaning back in your chair, you tilt your head back to see him. the grin on his face could cause world peace. it’s not everyday the team gets to see aaron’s real emotions.

“you did,” you agree. he leans down and places a quick kiss on your lips before walking over to the desk to turn the room keys in.

as you reface the girls, their eyes are sparkling.

“i fucking knew it,” emily echos derek under her breath.

masterlist.

[mydear-corinthian]

old man

synopsis - after a mission, you and Bucky were forced to stay in a cabin until Steve and the others arrived. In the middle of a small argument, you said something you regretted… or did you?

pairing - bucky barnes x avenger! reader

warnings - SMUT +18, enemies to ..?, small argument, one bed trope, dom!bucky, overstimulation, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, p in v, (y/n) mentioned once

notes - inspired by that one fic of duncan vizla i read here ^_^ divider by enchanthings-a

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

For how many months was the Avengers' primary mission to locate the small Hydra bases around the world? It's not exactly a new task for you. You and Bucky were assigned to this mission, which involved searching Romanian woods for a batch of super-soldier serum.

It painted the white, cold snow, and the bodies of the Hydra soldiers covered in blood adorned the area outside the small base.

“We got ‘em, Cap,” you said as you touched your earpiece, breathing hard after you just fought the last Hydra men. 

“Good. You two must stay put first while the others continue to locate bases in the area. There is a bunker in that location. You and Bucky can stop by there until everyone is done with their mission and then we’ll pick you up.” Steve replied on the comms. 

A frown replaced your smile. What do you mean stay on put? With Bucky? 

It's not really the kind of person you get along with, Bucky Barnes. He’s mysterious, cold, distant– everything. You don’t exactly have a good relationship with him. The both of you often argue with the smallest things– from a box of cereal, when training, just every single interaction you had with him. 

It felt more like divine retribution than an assignment when Steve revealed that you and Bucky would be working together on the mission. Like the universe had looked you dead in the eye and said, “Yeah, suffer.”

Out of all the people they could’ve assigned, they gave him Bucky. The one person you swore you’d never work with. 

What a wonderful day right!

"Aw, come on! We retrieved the serums already. Can we just go home and call it a day?” you groaned.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d rather go home. Or into a coma. Whichever gets me out of this faster,” Bucky muttered.

You didn’t bother hiding your annoyance, eyes rolling before Bucky even finished his sentence. It was exhausting to be around him, as if seven years of your life were being chipped away by every second. But he’s right, you’d rather get out of this mess immediately. 

The both of you heard Steve chuckled from the comms, “I’m sorry, lovebirds. You guys really gotta wait. Make this a perfect moment to stop fighting each other and offer peace.”

Lovebirds

Fuck that.

“Whatever. Just send us the coordinates.”

“Sending now.”

~

It took almost an hour to find the bunker. Every step felt slow and heavy, and the entire trail was blanketed in thick snow that was at least a foot deep. The cold wind blew through the trees, and everything was quiet except for the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

When you finally saw it, the bunker looked small — way smaller than you expected. It was hidden at the edge of the clearing, almost buried under snow. The walls were old and rusty, and the roof looked like it might cave in if it snowed any harder.

“What a nice AirBnB huh,” you sarcastically commented as soon as you saw it. 

Bucky didn’t mutter a single word and went inside right away. You hurriedly followed him, not wanting to get locked outside. As soon as he opened the door, your mouth hung open.

One bed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You put your go-bag on the little table in front of the bed, exhausted and defeated, while Bucky locked the door firmly and looked for items the S.H.I.E.L.D. had left behind. You removed your black parka jacket and folded it beside your bag. On the other hand, Bucky found two guns covered in a plastic zip-lock that was placed under the bed. 

“You gonna shower?” you asked, looking up at him. “You can go first. I’m still arranging my stuffs.”

Bucky simply nodded, not having the strength to argue anymore. He grabbed his whole bag and brought it with him to the bathroom. You sighed, getting up and grabbed the guns. Ripping the plastic open, you inspected them carefully before putting the bullets in then placed both on the nightstand. One for you, one for Bucky.

The mattress was supringsly soft but still small for the both of you. Your head was clouded with thoughts as soon as you sat on the bed. The both of you fight. A lot. Practically every time the both of you talk. And yet… sometimes, you wish we could just sit down and have a real conversation. Just talk. But you know it’s not that easy—especially not with someone like him. He’s so quiet, so withdrawn, like he’s always trying to disappear into the background. You get it. They broke him and made him into something he never wanted to be, and you know what Hydra did to him. Everyone talks about the Winter Soldier as if he were just that. But you don’t care about that. I want to know James. Bucky. The man. Not the myth, not the weapon. Just… him

Your thoughts were interrupted as soon as you heard the knob twisted from the bathroom. Bucky got out of the shower with some new clothes on. The sight was.. something for you to feel things.

The tight active dry shirt was hugging his biceps so much. He was also wearing a plain shirt and his hair.. oh god his hair. It was still a bit wet but god he looks good.

“You can go next,” Bucky said while he wiped his hair with a white towel that was sitting on his shoulders. 

You instantly grabbed your clothes and towel to cover up the blush that had appeared on your cheek. Closing the bag, you walked past him and went inside the bathroom.

It was small but it’ll do. It was a miracle that it has a heater— definitely can’t find that in a cabin like this. As you started rubbing soap all over your body, you can’t help but thought of Bucky again. Are you actually having a crush on him? 

He’s smart, tall, strong.. and definitely handsome. He might be cold and harsh but there are some times that he’ll ask you if you're okay after debfreifing and he never doubted your skills– which is a big thing for you. 

After you finished taking a shower, you found Bucky reading his own copy of The Hobbit. His face looked calm, collected, and.. hot?

"What is up with you and that book?" you asked.

"Huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "That's the 1937 book, right? The one that you've been bragging and literal is old like you."

"I'm not that old," he sighed, putting the book on top of the night stand.

"You're like 120 yea—"

"107."

"Same thing! You even got that old man's attitude."

"Oh really now?"

“You’re so old I bet it won’t even stand up anymore,” you bit. 

Oh shit.

You definitely did not dodge a damn missile on that one.

Bucky paused for a bit. He looked at your eyes and god you were terrified. You thought that maybe you slipped through the line with that joke. You were mentally punching yourself. You were waiting for a slap on your face or even a gun but nothing. Why the fuck did you even say that?

It wasn’t nothing.

But his lips on yours.

Bucky’s hands suddenly grabbed your face, firm and desperate, and before you could breathe—he kissed you. Hard. Your heart slammed against your chest, wild and thunderous, like it was trying to answer him.

"You really need to shut that mouth of yours, huh?" he murmured.

Your mouth parted when his tongue brushed your lips, asking for an entrance— wait asking? He didn't need to. He did it right away. Bucky's rough palms guided towards your neck, titling it to taste you more.

"Mmm—" you moaned.

He didn't hesitate to slide his fingers down to your stomach then to your shorts, toying with the garter as he continued playing his lips with your mouth. He swiftly removed your black shorts, together with your panties— soaking wet—, and tossed them somewhere the room.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers brushed your pussy, making a slick of wetness sound. You arched your back and clenched your fists around the bed linens.

"Jesus— you're soaking," he teased.

Bucky's vibranium arm left your face and started to unzip his pants swiftly. His cock sprung free. Hard. And definitely big. Pre-cum leaking out from his swollen tip.

Aligning himself, he began to slide it in— swiftly. Bucky smirked at the sight.

"Oh my god. Fuck— my dick fits perfectly inside you, huh?"

"Bucky! Wa-it—!" you choked.

Bucky was stretching your hole so much that it hurt. You didn't expect for him to be big— THAT big. You can feel his veins kissing your walls, his tip meeting your pelvis aggressively. Your eyes rolled so much you felt like your eyes were facing backwards now.

"You take me so well, doll. You're squeezing me like your pussy knows me, so don't even pretend you don't like this."

As he sank farther, your legs locked with his. You whimpered, groaned, and repeatedly chanted his name as if it were a damned prayer. You never imagined for this to feel good and to be doing this with.. Bucky. Someone who gives you a cold glare. Someone who doesn't even talk to you. Someone you never thought you'd fall for.

Bucky looked at you. Your eyes.

Not with lust.

But a hint of love.

It was wrong, and he knew it. It was wrong for someone like him to fall to a woman like you. He's a murderer. A criminal. A monster. But he shook his head mentally, ignore all the negative thoughts for now.

"F-feels good, Bucky.. aah—"

Bucky's arms were beside you, holding himself as he thrusted in and out. The silver dog tags on his neck moved crazily. His biceps were flexed at his pace. He leaned forward to you until his face was just half a inch apart from you. You can feel his hot breath whenever he groans. You can see how his eyebrows furrowed everytime you clench on him.

You broke the distance; kissing him up. It was sloppy. Wet. Lusful. An action that speaks to continue and pace up. Both of your lips were glossy. You heard him groan again as he went inside deeper. Bucky was hitting the spots that your fingers cannot even reach— and damn he is good at it.

He looked at you with that dumb smirk of his and broke the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips and his.

"Didn't know that a damn insult is all that you need for me to fuck you like this, hm?"

"Mmp—! F-fuck you, Barnes."

"I am, doll."

Bucky straightened his posture. His metal arm grabbed your left leg and then placed it on his shoulder, allowing himself to push himself even further. You let out a loud moan when you felt him fucking the spongy spot. His head rolled back and eyes were closed from the pleasure.

"Please.. Bucky," you beg as a knot forms in your stomach.

"Please what, doll?"

"'m so close— I think I'm gonna cum.. Oh god!" you writhed.

He let out a chuckle. His pace going faster, harder. More desperate. More power. More possessive.

"Yeah? My girl's gonna come? Go on, doll."

After a few more thrusts, the knot on your lower stomach finally ripped off. You clenched on him as you came hard. You were a moaning mess.

But Bucky didn't pulled out just yet. You felt a cold touch on your clit; his finger circling figure of eights with his thumb. You whined and whined from the continuous pleasure until you felt like it was too much. Too hard to handle. Too good.

"No— wait! Too much, Bucky! I can't!" you whimpered.

"Shh.. I know, doll. But I can't just stop especially when you're still squeezing me."

You curled up your toes, arching your back, and gripped the pillows tightly as the pleasure became too much. You were overstimulated and overwhelmed. The sound of your bodies slamming into each other echoed all over the small cabin. His finger flicking your clit so fast and well until you felt another wave of orgasm incoming.

"Aah!— Too much.. too much! Mmp—"

You finally squirted. Your juices were all over his cock as he continued pumping inside you. A wet puddle started to soak on the white bedsheets.

"Jesus Christ, doll— So good for me. Look at you so vulnerable, so addicted."

Your eyes closed again from the overstimulation. Your legs were trembling. Bucky's pace slowly slowed down and turned sloppy. His moans and grunts were getting louder and louder.

"You were talking shit about me earlier and now I'm cumming inside you," he teased.

With one final deep thrust, he spurted all of his cum inside you— rope after rope after rope, filling you. His head rested on your shoulder for a bit, waiting every drop to store inside your fucked pussy.

Your legs collapsed. Your chest violently heaved up and down. Bucky then pulled out slowly and when he did, his cum dripped down on your ached hole. Letting out a choked moan, you clench on nothing; suffering from the phantom cock.

"All you need is pissing me off so I can fuck you? Very smart idea, doll."

~

The next morning came. The both of you finished packing. After a few more minutes, the sound of the Quinjet rang into both of your ears. The door opened, revealing Steve and Natasha.

Bucky walked first, holding his black backpack that was hanging on his left shoulder. He greeted Steve and looked at you. You grabbed your go-bag and wobbled to Natasha.

"Woah, (y/n). Are you injured?" the red hair woman asked as she offered her hand to you. "What happened? We'll bring you to the Medbay as soon as we ar–"

"Oh trust me, she's fine. She just did cardio last night," Bucky replied with a smirk forming on his lips before going to the Quinjet.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "How can she do cardio in the middle of the ni— OH."

[redwing4life]

Fire Alarms

CHAPTER 5 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone (except tiny mention of previous chapter) :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, apartment fire, reader gets care from paramedics, smut - dom bucky, sarge kink, oral sex (m recieving), throat fucking, dirty talk, unprotected PinV sex, breeding, cum swallowing, rough bucky, semi-public play, male masturbation, small lactation kink, squirting, cock warming?, implied aftercare. lmk if i’ve missed anything :)

SUMMARY: Bucky doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but luck only lasts so long. When Bucky’s crew are called to a fire a little too close to home, your neighbour puts everything on the line to keep you safe, even your relationship.

WORD COUNT: 14,214 (buckle up folks)

A/N: i’m so sorry this has taken so long :( but i hope it’s worth it <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Bucky doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

Like, seriously, what the hell did his dumb ass do to deserve a girl like you, a girl who is so beautiful inside and out that he finds it hard to breathe each time his phone vibrates in his pocket, heart racing at the mere thought of a text from you.

He’s had an abundance of those this morning, a new message waiting for him after each call the crew is dragged out to, and it’s breathing more life into him than his oxygen tank ever has.

From your flirty texts to the most adorable selfies, you’ve had a grown man - a firefighter nonetheless - giggling and kicking his feet all day, and it’s fair to say the crew has noticed.

“Cap, he’s lookin’ at his phone all weird again!” Sam jeers from his seat across and to the right of Bucky, his tone uncannily similar to that of a child telling on his friend to the teacher.

“Again, Buck?” Steve asks from the front bench behind him. “We just got back in the truck!”

It’s true, after putting out a small office complex kitchen fire, the team had only just climbed back into the truck to head back for a well earned break.

Natasha nudges Bucky’s shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows. “What’s she said this time to get you all blushy?”

The unimpressed glare at Sam slowly morphs into a timid glance to his lap, “She hasn’t actually replied for a while.” His voice is so meek that it’s hard for Steve to believe it’s his best friend speaking.

“Nat, is he looking at that photo again?” Steve asks, prompting the redhead to fight Bucky for a peek at his phone screen. She might be smaller than the brunette, but there’s yet to be anyone who can stop her from getting what she wants, even the six foot, two hundred pound hunk of muscle beside her.

Bucky releases a disgruntled murmur when Nat manages to snatch his phone from his grasp, his eyes rolling to the sky when she confirms what Steve had suspected.

“Man, you are so whipped!” Sam laughs, unperturbed by the kick to his shin from the less-than-impressed firefighter across from him. Steve is chuckling from the front seat, hell, even Clint is biting back a grin, his eyes trained on the road as he listens in to the commotion behind him.

“Shut up, Wilson.” Bucky groans. “Same goes to you too, Rogers. Or have you forgotten what I walked into in the turnout room last week?”

Sam’s face falls into one of genuine sincerity, gasping at Bucky’s words, “What happened in the turnout room?”

The Captain has long since been silent, the threat of his secret being spilled sobering him up immediately.

“Yeah, Cap, what did happen in the turnout room?”

Beside him, Natasha has gone suspiciously quiet; if Bucky didn’t know why, then he may not have noticed the dusting of crimson across her cheeks, but he does, and it brings a smirk to his lips.

“What happens in the turnout room, stays in the turnout room.” Steve asserts, though Sam isn’t ready to give it up yet.

“Oh come on, man! You know it’s not healthy to have secrets in the Firehouse!”

Content that the focus isn’t on him anymore, Bucky returns his attention to his phone where the ‘Delivered’ sign has yet to turn to ‘Read’. Where’d you go, doll? He thinks to himself, the sound of his crewmates bickering drowned out by the nagging voice in the back of his head saying something is wrong.

“Drop it, Wilson.” Nat warns, a stern look in her eyes that only adds fuel to the fire.

“What crawled up your ass and died, Romanoff?” Sam says before his jaw drops in shock. “You were there too, weren’t you?! Oh my god, this is-“

The familiar alarm rings through the cabin and Clint happily tells everyone to shut up so they can hear dispatch properly.

Fingers stilling above the keyboard on his phone, Bucky listens to the description and location of the fire and his heart drops.

It’s his address.

It’s your address.

“Buck, is that-“

Laced with fear, your name falls from Bucky’s lips and Steve wastes no time in ordering Clint to step on it.

10:09 AM

You must have dreamt the whole thing.

It’s the only plausible reason for waking up to a cold bed, body aching for a touch you fear you may have never felt. Sheets tangled between your legs, you lay sprawled across the bed with a hand laid flat at the spot you were so damn sure Bucky laid in the last time you were awake.

You dig the heel of your palms into your eyes, hoping to rub away the remnants of the best dream of your life, and wince at the swarm of colours behind your eyelids. By the time you drop your hands beside your head, you’ve convinced yourself that last night never happened and the dull ache between your thighs is nothing but a warning that your period is due.

Fuck this. You think, a groan rising from your dry throat, and push yourself to sit up when you catch something in the corner of your eye.

A glass of water sat on your bedside table and a bottle of painkillers you usually keep in your bathroom cabinet perched by its side; while their sudden appearance draws your brows together, it’s the folded piece of paper with your name scrawled across it that really intrigues you.

Sliding the note out, you recognise the handwriting to be Bucky’s, and for the first time since you woke up, you let yourself hope that last night really did happen.

As hard as it is to leave you, I’ve got to get to work. I didn’t want to wake you as I left, you looked so damn cute and I didn’t wanna disturb you any more than I already had. I’ll be home at 6. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you, staring with letting me fuck you while you wear my henley and then maybe we can remake some of those dreams you’ve had of me ;). Jamie. P.S. hope you’re not aching too much.

Holy motherfucking moly.

Overwhelmed with schoolgirl giddiness, you squeal and kick your feet, only to be reminded that you are, in fact, aching very much. Very, very much.

A smile that could send Bucky Barnes to his knees rests upon your lips seemingly frozen in place. Even as you throw your head back to take the painkillers, your grin remains steadfast; for a moment, you wish your neighbour-turned-lover was with you to relish in your first morning together, but one glance at Bucky’s note remind you that he’ll more than make it up to you.

Checking the time as you unlock your phone, you know Bucky is over four hours into his shift by now, and since he’s the only thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder if he’s as consumed by thoughts of you as you are of him.

It takes only a moment for you to take matters into your own hands, fingers running through your tussled hair as you open your phone camera. It’s quick, and messy, but the grin that stretches from ear to ear will tell Bucky all he needs to know.

Ignoring the brief insecurities that you’re embarrassing yourself, you quickly send him the photo of yourself and choose to be bold for once.

The familiar swoosh sounds as your photo delivers and you lock your phone before crawling out of bed to get a shower. You’re barely through your bedroom door when your phone pings in your hand.

James: Why the fuck did I go to work today?

Laughing, you type your reply back.

You: Because it’s your job and there are buildings on fire?

You take two steps and he’s replied already.

James: Let ‘em burn

Bucky smells the smoke before he sees it, the billowing clouds hidden by familiar high rise office buildings, the ones he drives past to and from work every day.

The truck turns down your street but Bucky hardly notices; he can hear his heart beating in his ears and he’s dropping curse word after curse word, his phone playing your voicemail for the fourth time in two minutes. Three blue texts of increasing urgency sit unread on his screen and it takes everything he has to not launch it out the window.

You’ve been a text away all morning, why now have you taken a fucking sabbatical from your phone?

“Are you sure she’s home today?” Steve asks, interrupting Bucky’s spiralling thoughts.

“It’s her day off and she’s been texting me all mornin’. Y/n’s in that building, Steve!”

The calmness of Steve’s tone reminds everyone why he’s their Captain, “Well I’m sure she’s safe, Buck. She’s bright, she’ll have gotten out by now.”

Stomach churning, Bucky gulps his nerves down. He glances at Nat when she pats his shoulder before turning back to see Sam nod, his eyes silently telling Bucky to pull it together, that now is not the time to lose it.

‘Pullin’ up!” Clint calls and the truck rolls to a stop, parking just behind Chief Fury’s car, who is already taking command of the scene and ordering around the first and only other squad to have arrived yet.

The world is a blur as Bucky glides through the scattered crowd to reach Fury, his words tumbling out of his mouth before he’s even within hearing range.

“Take a breath. What is it?” Fury says.

“I- I think my- this is my- I live here and-“

“I said take a breath, Barnes.” The chief interrupts him, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to ground him. He’s never seen Bucky like this before, not since… not since the fire that haunts his dreams.

“Chief, this is my place.” The brunette speaks clearly now. “I think my girl is in there.”

“Okay.” Fury nods and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder reassuringly. “Search the crowds, see if she’s with any of the other residents. And keep me updated!” He calls after Bucky who’s already rushing to the clusters of people across the road.

Face after face flashes by but none of them bare the eyes of the girl he’d give his life for. The weight in his chest grows heavier and heavier as he runs out of people to check and finds himself at the fire exit of the building’s main staircase where the others have already headed inside.

“She’s not here, Sam!” Bucky shouts at his crewmate who’s guiding a few stragglers out the exit.

“It’s okay, there’s still people evacuating, she’ll get out. Just help me for a sec, Nat said she heard kids coming through!”

Bucky turns to the dwindling stream of people stumbling out the fire exit; he takes a breathe and scans the residents passing by, asking if anyone’s seen you but it’s like talking to a brick wall. Everyone is too consumed by their own worries to care about a girl they don’t know.

He goes to head back to Fury when he recognises the woman who lives across the hall from you, her two little girls clutching onto her for dear life as they stagger through the doors.

“Cassie! Hey, Cassie!” He bellows over the commotion, running to take her eldest daughter off her hands and usher them to the medics.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” She sighs in relief at the friendly face. “Thank goodness, it’s- it’s getting really b-bad in there.” She says, spluttering through her words while Sam stands at her side.

“Yeah I know, look, have you seen Y/n? I can’t find her.”

“Yeah she helped me carry the girls down!”

Bucky’s eyes widen, head snapping behind him to search for any sign of her. “Then where is she?”

“Well we reached the doors and she handed me Maya and said she had to go back for something and ran off.” His heart drops. “I’m sorry, Bucky, I didn’t get chance to tell her not to go.”

Sheer terror controls his body and he’s storming over to Fury before she’s finished her apology, not willing to waste any more time to get his girl. Sam thanks Cassie and trails after him till they’re in front of the Chief.

“Fury, Y/n’s still in there. Let me get her, please!”

“Okay, Sam go with him. You’ve got five minutes before I pull my men out of there, this thing’s gonna blow soon.”

“Yes, sir.” They both call as they pull their masks on while they run. Bucky swears, he’s never put his kit on so quickly in his life, but the smoke pouring out the fire exit doors is growing thicker and thicker by the second, and you’re in the middle of it.

2:38 PM

The show you’re watching has long since been forgotten, your mind wandering to the dreams your neighbour is so keen to reenact. Bucky’s promise to make up for his absence ignites the same fire you felt last night. That, and every other night you’ve had your fingers knuckle deep in your pussy thinking of him.

You’re reminded of one specific dream - the one you had the night he was sent home from work - where you’d broken into his apartment for ice cream; picturing his place next door has you sat upright, suddenly remembering that Alpine is probably sat in his apartment waiting for him to come home. That poor cat won’t have seen him since you invited him over last night.

Hoping she doesn’t resent you for stealing Bucky for the night, you grab his spare key from your side table and rush to check on the little white ball of fur. The familiar scent swarms you as you step inside his apartment, quickly heading to the kitchen to find Alpine.

You take a photo of Bucky’s kitchen, complete with Alpine’s little head popping out from above the fridge, and send it to him.

You: Really shouldn’t have given me a spare key, Barnes

James: Don’t even think about eating my donuts

Sure enough, a box of donuts sits on his counter top and it makes you laugh that the only thing that’s worried him about you letting yourself in, is that you’ll steal his food. God, he’s perfect.

You: You’re a firefighter, not a cop!

James: Didn’t know the donut police was out, my bad

You giggle before hearing the pitter patter of paws jumping from the fridge to the kitchen island wear she snuggles up to your torso and purrs.

“Hey, girl. Sorry for stealing James for the night.”

Alpine meows beneath your light scratches and you grin, “I’ll take that as a sign of forgiveness, Alps.”

Her cuteness has you getting your camera out to take a photo of the two of you, cuddled up together on the island.

You: Cute security guard you got here

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s heart is melting in the middle of the firehouse common room, so much so that he doesn’t even bother with a jokey reply.

James: My girls ❤️

Unbeknownst to Bucky, your heart is melting in the middle of his goddamn kitchen, so much so that Alpine might need to call 911.

James: Fuck I can’t wait to come home to you

You blush like crazy at the second text.

You: You do have some making up to do, Barnes

James: Yes, Ma’am!

You: Oh, and also, you might wanna pick up some more donuts on the way home ;)

You send before stretching to grab one from the box, quickly taking a photo of you biting into one and sending that too.

James: Knew I shouldn’t have given you that key

You’ve done this before, you know what you’re doing. You’ve done this before, you know what you’re doing. You’ve done this before, you know-

“Shut up, man! You’re wastin’ your breath.” Sam shouts.

“What?”

“Quit your ramblin’ we got work to do!”

Not realising he’d been talking out loud, Bucky frowns beneath the polycarbonate of his mask, a movement Sam has no chance of seeing in their current environment.

Air thick with smoke, the pair race through the plumes as fast as their legs will carry them; you’re up there, they both know it, and there’s no time to waste.

The ring of the fire alarm has long since faded by the time Bucky bursts through the door of the fourth floor, Sam close on his tail. If they thought the stairwell was bad, this corridor is hell on earth. Visibility is a distant memory in here, smoke so heavy and black that their flashlights reflect straight back at them. The only sign that they’re actually moving is the distant, faint orange glow growing stronger with each step and the heat crawling further beneath their gear.

“Fucking Garvey.” He grumbles, realising the broken sprinklers are the cause of this state.

Bucky turns behind him to face Sam. “You clear this room, I’ll do Y/n’s!”

“On it!”

The pair split up as Sam kicks down one door and Bucky heads to yours, only a few feet further ahead. Turning his back to the door, he lifts his right knee and fires his boot backward, successfully cracking it open for him to push inside.

The smoke isn’t so bad in here and Bucky gets to work quickly, jogging over to your kitchen when he doesn’t see you at the living area.

“Y/n, call out!” Bucky bellows, his mask slightly muffling his words. You don’t answer, so Bucky starts slamming open any and all doors in the apartment in the hope that you just can’t hear him.

“Y/n! Where are you?” Your bathroom is empty and he moves to your bedroom. “Call out, Y/n!”

No answer. Goddamn it, sweets.

Panic rises in his chest when he sees your empty bowl of cereal on the coffee table, a show still playing on the TV.

Bucky tries his luck shouting once more, “Firefighter, call out!”

The only sound to respond is the billowing flames down the hall, wood crackling beneath the heat.

“Please, baby, where are you?” He knows he’s talking to himself at this point and it terrifies him. Biting back a strangled yell, Bucky clenches his eyes shut in attempt to ground himself.

When he opens them, he starts scanning the room for any sign of where you’ve gone. The bowl of cereal, your missing slippers, keys on your side table, no phone anywhere, lamps still-

Wait.

The keys. There’s one missing. His spare.

It dawns on him then, and his heart drops, knowing exactly where you are.

Alpine. You went back for Alpine.

4:29PM

Your blood runs cold when you’re woken by thudding at your door, a muffled cry of your name seeping through its cracks. With a racing heart, you toss your blanket off your sweat-ridden body and rush to your feet, mind trailing behind you while you run to the door.

“Just a sec!” You call out, desperately trying to piece together what’s happening as you approach the door. You slide the lock free, swing the door open and frown.

It’s Cassie, the young mom who lives in the apartment opposite with her two little girls; her head is turned over her shoulder and she’s shouting. You follow her line of sight to find who you guess to be her eldest daughter, Grace, peering through their front door - you can’t tell for sure, you’re still waking up and things are a little foggy. Very foggy, actually.

Having babysat for Cassie a few times, you panic that you’ve forgotten you’re doing so today. “Hey, Cass-“

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“What?” You murmur, sleep still clutching onto you for dear life, and your frown deepens.

“Are you okay? Please- I-“

“Yes, Cassie, I’m fine.” You interrupt her and place your hands on her upper arms, trying to ground her. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a fire!” She points down the corridor and your attention follows. “I don’t know when it started, I- I was in the bathroom with Maya- I don’t know! I just- there was smoke coming in and- and…”

The confusion racking your brain turns to panic while a coldness soaks your body from head to toe, fear settling into every inch of you. Fire. Smoke. Heat. Everything clicks like a series of switches. The fog you thought was remnants of sleep is actually thick grey smoke - that’s why you couldn’t tell which daughter it was. In fact, that’s why Cassie was screaming, she was trying to get Grace back inside. Raising a hand to your forehead, you swipe beaded droplets of sweat off your brow and recall how warm the door’s lock and handle felt beneath your fingers.

“… hitting the fire alarm but it’s not working so the sprinklers won’t come on and-“

“Okay, hey, it’s okay!” You comfort the frantic mother and scan the hallway as you gradually come back to the present.

“Have you tried the fire alarm?”

“Yes! Yes! I tried but it’s broken, it won’t start!”

“Fuck,” You whisper, mentally damning Mr Garvey for his shit-ass death trap of a building.

Cassie starts coughing heavily so you reach to her top and lift the collar till the cloth covers her nose and mouth. With consciousness finally returning fully, you close your door behind you and guide Cassie back to her apartment.

Inside, her daughters sit crammed into the corner of the kitchen, clutching onto each other tightly. You hash a plan out with Cassie before sending her to get cloths and soak them in cold water for you all to put over your faces. The smoke in her apartment isn’t too bad, but you’ll need them for when you leave.

You jog over to the window and look out just in time to catch Chief Fury jumping out of his car, barking orders down a radio, and scanning the scene. Relieved that someone’s already called for 911, a sigh of relief tumbles from your lips and your eyes close briefly. Smoke scratches at the back of your throat, sparking a heavy coughing fit that leaves you breathless; when you realise you’re not the only one coughing, you turn back to the girls who are still sat in the kitchen.

“Hey, girls, come here!” You call, rushing back to the kitchen to guide them to the window where you pick Maya up and place her on your hip so she can see outside. “See that man there?” You point to Chief Fury, “He works with Bucky. They’re gonna stop the fire for us and make sure we get out safe.”

There’s little time for the girls to celebrate before Cassie returns with wet tea towels and jumpers. Together, you get them wrapped up and explain what’s about to happen; unsure as to what might be happening outside, you tell them to keep their eyes closed and their tea towels over their mouths and nose until their mom says otherwise.

With Grace on your back, you turn to Cassie with a reassuring smile. “It’s not far to the stairwell, they’ll be okay, I promise.”

She nods and adjusts Maya on her hip before pressing loving kisses to the girl’s heads. Using Bucky’s henley to cover the now hot metal door handle, you push it down and open the door for your neighbour to walk through.

The hallway is already darker and hotter than just minutes ago, the billowing black smoke rushing to your eyes and making them burn. Aside from the faint orange glow to your left, there’s little visibility, but you know where to go. You hike Grace up your back further and step out behind Cassie, tea towel clamped tightly over your mouth.

“Nearly there!” You bellow, voice barely breaking past your masked mouth. Come on, come on, come on… you whisper to yourself as your feet carry you step by step closer to safety. Finally, you reach the doors to the stairwell and nearly crash into the back of Cassie since you can hardly see her.

Carrying the girls, the pair of you slip through the door and hurry down the stairs. You’re 4 stories up so you count each floor as you go, keeping track of where you are. Turns out, the alarms and sprinklers are working on every floor but your own. Fuck you, Mr Garvey.

“Y/n! Wait! Y/n!” Grace calls from behind you and you rake our neck to look at her, realising then why she’s trying to stop you. “I dropped my towel!”

Without thinking twice, you tear yours from your face and press it to her mouth knowing there’s no time to be searching for hers. You keep going and catch up to Cassie before she even reaches the first floor. As your throat starts stinging again and your thighs begin to burn, you remind yourself that it’s not long until you’re outside in smoke free air.

“One more floor!”

“Yep!”

Being so close to the exit has you thinking ahead, thinking about seeing Bucky and running into his arms, thinking about how worried he’ll have been for his girls, thinking about how relieved Cassie will be to-

Wait.

Bucky’s girls. There’s two of you.

It dawns on you then and your heart drops, knowing you can’t leave yet.

Alpine. You need to go back for Alpine.

Each stride closer to Bucky’s apartment turns the red flames to orange and the orange flames to yellow. Heat radiates from the apartment opposite his as flames etch their way up and out of the front door; assessing the pattern of the fire, Bucky calculates how much time they have almost as fast as he breaks down his own door.

“Y/n! Where are you!?” He bellows from the constraints of his mask, blue eyes scanning every inch of his smoke filled home for the one thing he can’t live without.

“Kitchen!”

Without even registering what you’ve said, Bucky is running to the source of your voice, gear clanging on his back as he moves.

Thick smoke swirls around him on his way, clearing enough for him to just make out your silhouette flailing away.

“Doll!” Bucky shouts, panic rising in his chest at your frantic movements. “Y/n, call out! Are you okay?”

“I’m here! Im okay!” He hears.

Finally reaching you, his hands reach for your upper arms like iron to a magnet. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, James, it’s Alpine,” You’re pointing up to fridge, pausing to cough into your arm before continuing, “she’s not coming down!”

“What?” If you could hear the incredulous tone Bucky uses over the roaring fire, you show no signs of it. He can’t help but gawk at you in disbelief; you were seconds away from escaping a roaring blaze and you’re more focused on a damn cat? Do you even realise what’s happening?

“James, help me get her down!”

Your urgent order has the firefighter shaking his head free of thoughts that are better kept for later. The clock is ticking and the fire is spreading faster each second, so he jumps into action. Clambering up onto the kitchen counter, Bucky swipes his hand over the top of the fridge until the familiar white fur of his cat greets his palm.

“That’s it,” Bucky coaxes Alpine out from her hiding spot. Clearly unable to identify her owner beneath his gear, she leaps down into the safety of your arms and receives doting kisses in masse.

Bucky climbs down. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The short and sharp order has you scurrying to the front door where the heat creeps up your bare legs with haste. Over your shoulder, you hear the electronic beeps of your neighbour’s radio intermittently while he talks to Chief Fury.

A hand on your shoulder brings you to a halt. “You’ve got two minutes, Barnes.” The chief’s voice is crackling much like the fire behind the door.

“Yes, sir.” Bucky replies before turning to you, “Wait here.”

Following his orders, you wait with increasing nerve as Bucky peers behind his front door to check on the fire. For the first time today, he’s grateful the fire is loud enough to drown out his cursing of the situation; the last thing he wants is to scare you, but the flames have encompassed the door of the apartment opposite and have climbed to the ceiling of the hallway. Escaping now means baring the blaring heat with no protection for his girl to wear.

Pushing the door shut, he turns back to you. “We have to go through, it’s the safest way.”

“You want us to walk through fire? Are you serious?” The light quiver of your chin tells Bucky you’re more scared than you care to let on. “What about the windows? Can’t we-“

“No, doll. There’s not enough time to get the truck round this side of the building. I’d give you my mask but we have don’t have time. We have go this way.”

You’re shaking your head as he speaks, nerves racking your body like a virus and you subconsciously clutch Alpine tighter to your chest for comfort. Bucky steps closer to you with reassuring eyes, hoping the closer distance will let you see him past the polycarbonate.

“Hey, you trusted me when we got stuck in the lift and we got out without a scratch. I’m asking you to trust me again, sweets. Let me get you out of here, please?”

Battling through his mask, the desperation laced beneath his tone is enough to turn your shaking head into a nod. From that point on, you’re a passenger in your own body.

Instructions to keep your face covered, to hand over Alpine despite her meows in contest and that under no circumstances should you ever let go of Bucky’s hand. Numerous checks that you understand what he’s saying, followed my numerous recitals of his rules right back at him.

There’s no way of knowing how you managed to remember those rules, let alone abide by them, when your mind has been on autopilot for the last few minutes.

You know it’s time to go when you feel two squeezes on your right hand: Bucky’s signal. What follows is a blur of black and orange, hot and cold. Bucky covers you from the fire and leads you out to the stairwell where he tucks you into his side. You run down each flight of stairs until you burst into the chaos outside.

Bucky rips his mask and helmet off and shouts for a medic, his arm never leaving your shoulders as though there’s still a fire he needs to protect you from.

A paramedic who Bucky called ‘Pepper’ rushes over and reaches to hold you herself before realising she’ll need to fight Bucky to do so. Knowing that’s a battle not worth fighting, she guides you both to the back of an ambulance across the road.

On your way, a familiar face breaks through the hustle and bustle with relief etched across his features. Steve pats your shoulder in support when Bucky speaks up.

“Steve, can I-“

“Go be with her, Buck.” He says firmly like it’s obvious, earning a single, though grateful, nod in return.

For the past twenty minutes, you’ve watched the world fly past you; left and right, high and low, there’s something happening everywhere as the Fire Department work to put out the blaze and move people to safety. With the sun dipping behind the city skyline, the damage to Mr Garvey’s building fades away as night draws in. He’s yet to make an appearance, Mr Garvey, though you doubt he’s jumping at the opportunity to face his tenants, let alone the burly firefighters that litter the lawn.

It’s fair to say the crew are pissed. Sure, a lazy landlord running a beat-up, hazardous complex would rile them up any day of the week - but when that complex is home to ‘two of their own’ as Nat put it? Well, the only thing holding them back is Chief Fury’s stern warning to do things by the book. Though he did order a drive by for Mr Garvey once they figure out where he lives.

While seemingly everyone in sight is busy helping out, you sit perched on the back steps of an ambulance, accompanied by a sleepy Alpine and a grumpy Bucky. He’s long since forgone the fire jacket, clad just in a navy t-shirt and suspenders holding up his fire pants.

The rhythmic hum of the oxygen machine behind you is driving you crazy, but a certain firefighter isn’t keen on you taking your mask off just yet. You wonder if he’ll ever let you take it off.

A clanging in the distance awakens Alpine enough for her to relocate; the soft white cat clambers into your lap and curls up before going straight back to sleep. Unfortunately for you, the damn oxygen mask is getting in the way of everything, and you can’t see past it to watch Alpine.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, his tone just as flat as it’s been since you escaped the building, as you tug the plastic from your face.

“It’s annoying, Sarge. And fucking uncomfortable.“

Blue eyes barely glancing at you, your neighbour’s face remains stoic and cold. He finds you calling him ‘Sarge’ pretty damn annoying, even if his dick thinks otherwise; ever since you clocked on to people addressing him by his title, you’ve being teasing him, but the name has slowly turned sour on your lips the longer he acts so coldly toward you.

“It’s not meant to feel like a spa treatment, put it back on.”

You roll your eyes, not that he’d notice. “I don’t even need it anymore!” You’re sick of being treated like a child by the man who was tongue deep in your cunt just under 24 hours ago.

For the first time in a while, he finally tears his gaze from the lawn down to your defeated state and uncrosses his arms. As he leans closer, you think for a moment that he’s finally going to touch you, to hold you and tell you everything’s okay. Instead, he reaches over you and snatches the mask from your side, just to hold it up to your face.

“Banner said you do, so you’re wearing it, okay?” He all but spits. You hold his stony glare and pray that your lip won’t tremor like it always does when you’re upset. The coldness of his stare saps the warmth from your chest, replacing it with a pit of indignation that’s growing with every passing moment.

“Why are you being like this, James?” The mellow tone you didn’t even know you could use slips by, a far cry from the cruelness of Bucky’s, and you watch as he straightens up and turns away. “You- you can’t even look at me! You won’t touch me, you order me around like I’m-“

He scoffs. He literally scoffs in your face.

“Are you serious? You’re acting like a child, James.”

“Oh, and you’re not?!” His attention is back on you now and you flinch at the sudden change in dynamic.

“What the fuck does that-“

“Hey, guys!”

Steve appears from behind the ambulance door and leans down to hug you. Your eyes are stuck on Bucky, who’s resorted to turning his back to you as if that’s going to fix this.

“How are you feeling, Y/n?” The captain asks, a hand lingering comfortingly on your shoulder as you fight to pull your eyes away from your neighbour.

“Uhh yeah,” You shake your head slightly and look up at Steve with a smile, “yeah I’m feeling better, thank you.”

Though he chooses not to comment on it, he sees how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “That’s great, I’m real glad you’re alright, Y/n. You want me to switch the oxygen off if you’re not needing it anymore?”

In the corner of your eye, Bucky’s back clenches taut and he stills. The conflict between sticking up for yourself and giving in to Bucky plays out like a musical in your mind, each side tugging you to and from at a rate of knots. But the tension between you and the firefighter isn’t enough for you to lose yourself; deep down, you know you’ve done nothing wrong and you certainly don’t owe Bucky anything after the way he’s treated you.

You look up at Steve with a confidence that both you and Bucky are surprised by. “That would be great, thanks, Cap.”

With a quick, questioning glance at the brooding firefighter in the corner, Steve turns off the machine and steps back after a quick pat on Alpine’s head.

“Do you mind if I steal Buck for a minute?” Steve asks.

“Go for it.”

After a grateful smile, Steve grabs his best friend’s arm and drags him away, leaving you with a frown and a sleeping cat.

Their footsteps fade away as they walk out of ear shot and you’re forced to try your hand at lip reading. It doesn’t take long before you realise there’s no chance in hell you’re going to figure out what Steve is saying, quite sternly, might you add.

“Cut her some slack, Buck. She was trying to do the right thing.”

The brunette scoffs, “She was trying to get herself killed.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same damn thing.”

“It’s different,” Bucky grumbles, shaking his head.

“Is it?”

“I’m a firefighter, Steve! I know what to do in that situation.”

Armed with a raised brow, the captain cocks his head slightly. “So you’re telling me if you had no training, no protection, you wouldn’t run into a burning building to save her?”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s gotten through to his best friend, and that maybe, Bucky’s finally seeing some sense. But then Bucky reminds him exactly why he had to pull him over for a “chat” in the first place.

“She went back for Alps.”

“Have you thought that maybe she went back for you!?” Steves voice raises as his tone sharpens and Bucky’s confused ‘what?’ only fuels the fire burning in his chest.

“She knows how much you love that cat. Seems to me like she saved Alpine for you, Buck.”

Having learnt to not get ahead of himself, Steve waits for yet another snarky remark. Instead, he watches his friend look over his shoulder to your place in the back of the ambulance. Banner is in the process of taking your blood pressure while Nat makes you and Pepper laugh by playing with Alpine; the sight has a warmth growing in Bucky’s chest, and he wishes more than anything that Steve hadn’t dragged him away so far so he could hear your laughter.

As though you can feel his gaze, you lift your head and lock eyes with your neighbour, unknowingly causing his breath to catch at the back of his throat. And then you smile at him, tired and meek but beautiful nonetheless, and it nearly has him on his knees, begging for forgiveness for treating you so cruelly.

Yet he remains cold and stoic, his face contorting to one even more scorning than before. Because you were minutes away from not making it out of there, and now you’re laughing with his crew mates like he didn’t nearly lose you.

The infamous Tony Stark left Firehouse 107 years ago, yet you’ve heard his name more than you could count. He’s practically an urban legend to you at this point; even now as you scurry around the kitchen of one of his many properties that his own wife Pepper lent yoy, you’re not 100% certain he actually exists.

“Girl, I can’t believe you get to live here!” Sophie, your manager, rounds the corner of the hallway just as you glance over your shoulder.

“Yeah having my apartment burn down was totally worth it.”

You don’t mean for your tone to be a sharp as it is, nor as hostile, but you can’t help it. The aftermath of today’s events has left a sour taste in your mouth, but it’s the cold shoulder from Bucky that’s left you feeling hollow.

Sophie’s face drops, features twisting into one of regret and pity. You both fight over each other to apologise first and the heavy weight on your shoulders lifts lightly when you both laugh a little.

“That was a shitty thing to say, I’m sorry.” She comes over and pulls you into a hug.

“No, I shouldn’t have been a bitch about it, Soph.” You murmur into her shoulder, grateful for the comforting embrace after receiving nothing from the one person you’ve needed it from the most.

Pulling back, Sophie rests her hands on your shoulders. “I think you get a pass for today, hun. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you tonight?”

You immediately shake your head. “Absolutely not. You’ve got a big day tomorrow and you need your beauty sleep.”

A few weeks ago, Sophie was nominated for the local small-business owners award and the prize giving is tomorrow. The last thing you need is to feel guilty for keeping her from such a momentous event.

“Only if you’re sure, I can-“

“Nope. You’re going, that’s final.” You cut her off with a reassuring smile and place your own hands on her shoulders to steer her to the door. “Like you said, this place is a dream. I think i’ll manage just fine!”

After a warm goodbye and another attempt to change your mind (and even more assurance that you’d survive the night alone), your boss heads out.

It’s quiet now; Stark’s swanky apartment is so high up that you can barely hear the hustle and bustle of the street below, a stark contrast (pun intended) to the paper thin walls of your old apartment.

Old apartment. Only been here 4 hours and you’re already along it the old apartment.

You turn on your heel and face your new home for the next few weeks, still taken aback by the shininess of everything. The plush ivory couch is spotless, the shelves of the fridge don’t bear a single crumb, you even had to peel the protective film off the damn shower head earlier. Everything is perfect. Everything should be perfect.

But it’s not. Not without him.

You’d take back the broken elevator and shitty water pressure in a heartbeat if it meant you got Bucky back too. Instead, you’re left with this incredible apartment and no one to share it with, not even Alpine.

Without noticing it, enough time passes by while you stare at the untouched home before you that it’s now dark enough for lamps to be turned on. You stumble around in the darkness for any switches you can find, eventually finding and turning on a lamp that you’re sure costs more than your whole ‘old apartment’.

One after the other, you light up the apartment enough to find your way to the fridge where you scour through the groceries Sophie collected for you, desperate for a drink to numb the pain.

Smiling weakly at the cakes she must’ve snuck in, a knock at the front door snatches your attention.

You hurry to the door, though you underestimate how long it takes to cross the width of the apartment, and prepare to remind your excessively concerned friend that you’ll be perfectly fine on your own for the night.

“Sophie,” You begin, swinging the door open with a sigh, “I’m starting to feel insulted at how- oh…“ oh. oh.

“Hey,” Bucky says, a hand stretched behind him to rub the back of his neck. His eyes are tired and lifeless, but at least they’re lacking the venom they possessed just hours ago.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?”

Your questions takes him aback, like he never once considered you wouldn’t blindly open your new home to him, offer him a beer and give him free rein of the tv. Of course, he didn’t expect that, but he didn’t expect this either.

“I’m ‘Bucky’ now?”

Your eyes drop to the floor. “James. I’m sorry, I meant James.”

The timid nature of your response has the firefighter cursing himself for trying to be funny. Instead, he made you feel like you have to please him, to call him James just because he said so.

“No, it’s-“ Bucky takes a breath trying to settle the rising frustration at how difficult it is for you two to talk normally when it used to come to you like breathing. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. I came to see how you’re doing?”

The softness of his voice has your head lifting, eyes meeting his to search for the warmth that you yearn for so dearly.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks, dodging your question like a hitter ducking from the first baseman’s glove.

You reply by stepping to the side, allowing your neighbour to slip past you.

“Nice place.”

‘Nice place’, Buck? Really? That’s what you’re gonna open with?

“Thanks.”

‘Thanks’, Y/n? Really? What, did you build it yourself or something?

The awkwardness between you is unsettling in itself and you have to physically shake your head to try and rid yourself of the feeling.

The firefighter’s eyes fall to your body and his brows draw closer. You look down at yourself and back at Bucky’s confused face when you put two and two together.

“They’re Sophie’s,” You run the hem of your- her -shirt between your thumb and forefinger, “she dropped them off with some other stuff to get me through the next couple days.”

Getting nothing in response, you walk to the kitchen where you resume your search for a drink. Your boss bought pretty much everything at the grocery store, but unfortunately for you, she must have skipped the alcohol aisle. You settle for a glass of water, a far cry from the kind of drink you need to get you through this interaction, but it’ll have to do.

“Do you want a drink?” You call over your shoulder as you pour yourself a glass. If it weren’t for his reflection in the tall, remarkably clean windows, you’d never even know there was someone in the room.

“The options are water or water?”

Receiving nothing but silence yet again, you pour a second glass. “Water it is.” The dead silence burns as you return the water jug to the fridge where your eyes fall upon the cakes Sophie brought. “Oh! And cakes from the café too. Soph got the cookies you really like, would you like one?”

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a-“

“What were you thinking?”

You freeze, part way through shutting the fridge door, and while you know exactly what he said, his words echoing through your mind, you ask him to repeat himself.

“I’m sorry?”

“What were you thinking, Y/n? Going back for Alpine?!” His words flow out faster than he can pronounce them, the damn holding back his emotions finally collapses.

You slam the door shut, glass bottles rattling away as you speak, “I couldn’t leave when I knew she was trapped and there was a fire across the hall!”

Bucky throws his hands in the air. “Do you not trust us to do our jobs, Y/n?” He yells. “It’s what we do! We would’ve gotten her out- I would’ve gotten her out!”

“Put yourself in my shoes, James, there was a fire and I panicked and I did what I felt was right. If that meant not waiting for you then that’s what I was gonna do.”

You hadn’t even realised you’ve been stepping toward your neighbour, closing the distance between you till only a few feet separates you. Bucky’s eyes are frantic, yours are cold as steel and the air between you is so charged that your hands are shaking; with a clenched jaw, you try to steady your breathing while Bucky steps back to pace across the room with his hands raking through his hair.

“I can’t-“ His hands drop to the base of his neck where he needs the skin in his fists. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to run back into a burning building for a cat that’s not even yours!”

You son of a bitch.

“That’s not fair, I love her too!” You cry, only to flinch when Bucky turns back to you with tears in his eyes.

“Well, I love you!!” He bellows, voice breaking at the end. “Who looks after you, huh?! Who comes to save you when you get trapped?”

You mumble a ‘what?’ but you’re drowned out by his words and the weight they possess.

“How are you not seein’ this, doll? This isn’t about Alps, it’s about you.” You frown, gaze jumping between those captivating blue eyes in disarray. “It’s about you putting yourself in danger to save something that is not your responsibility.”

“But I-“

“Don’t.” Bucky warns. “Whether you feel inclined to or not, you are not responsible for keeping her safe, I am. And that- fuck- that means you stayed in a fire to do something that’s my job. I should be the only one who needs to go into danger to protect her but I wasn’t there so you did it.”

“James-“

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed over something that’s my fault-

“James!-“

“It’s my fault you ended up in there, doll, so if you got hurt then that-“

You grab his face in your hands and press your lips to his, grounding him with your touch. The rooms spins around you as you work to slow his descent down a rabbit hole of guilt, lips moving against his even though his remain still. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d find his hands still in the air, but you don’t pay any mind to that; you’re only focus is on showing him you love him too, that you’re safe and he doesn’t need to blame himself for a damn thing.

You don’t know how long it takes, but at some point along the line, Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist, pinning you to his chest while he finally kisses you back.

The salty taste of shared tears greet your tongue as your lips dance against his. Your hands travel from his cheeks to his hair, tugging at his roots till his lips part in a gasp. You take the chance to tease your muscle against his, moaning at the feeling.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” You breathe between kisses, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bucky shakes his head as much as you’ll let him with your tongue still tangled with his.

“No, it’s my fault, I should’ve been there.”

You pull back with tearful eyes. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Not the fire.” He murmurs, eyes clenching shut as he tugs one of your hands to his mouth, presses a doting kiss to your palm. “For everything after it. I just- I couldn’t understand why you did it, doll. And that’s not an excuse, I don’t mean it like that- there’s no excuse for it but I was so scared and confused and-“

“Angry that I went back.” You finish his sentence for him, as painful as it is to admit. “I know, honey, I know I scared you, I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologise, you did nothing wrong, I need you to know that.” Bucky looks into your eyes with such intensity that you feel it in your chest. When he clenches his eyes shut and he somehow holds you even tighter than before, you brace for the question you know is coming. “But why, darling? Why would you go back? I don’t understand.”

He’s almost sobbing now, forehead rattling against yours as he fights back the tears he’s been withholding all day.

But you didn’t know why, truly. All day you’ve tried to figure out what happened to you, what possessed you to do what you did. But then Bucky, your James, turned up on your doorstep 5 minutes ago and it all made sense.

“Because I love you, too.”

His eyes snap open and a look of what you can only describe as disbelief. “Fuck, you do?”

You breathe a laugh, “More than anything.”

Before you know it, his lips are back on yours and he’s kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt before. It’s different this time, this kiss, it’s like you’ve submitted yourselves to the love you have for one another and everything feels so different but so so good.

But that feeling is stripped from you like a rug being swept from beneath your feet because he’s pulling back with conflict laced beneath his gaze. “That’s why you went back?”

You nod sheepishly, tears trailing down your cheeks.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” The firefighter says, words coming out strained like he’s still holding back.

“I didn’t mean to, James,” You bundle up his t-shirt in your firsts, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky cradles your head to his chest, holding you so close to him that his heart beat reverberates into your chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head while you tighten your hold around his waist. “I know you didn’t, doll.”

You can feel his chest tightening each time he tries to continue and gently urge him to continue. “But…?”

Bucky’s small laugh is muffled by your hair and he pulls back slightly to hold your face in his hands.

“But,” He smiles softly, eyes baring into yours, “I need you to find a different way to love me. One that doesn’t have you running into burning buildings.”

You frown with your lip between your teeth. “What if I moved in with you and Alps? Then we wouldn’t have this problem!”

“You want to move in together?” Your neighbour is taken aback by the idea.

You go to nod proudly but it only takes a second for Bucky to snap back to reality and escape the clutches of your desperate attempt to change the subject.

“No, don’t answer that.” He warns. “That’s not what we’re discussing.”

“Well technically it is…”

“No it’s not. We’re not- I can’t-“

“You don’t wanna live with me?” You tilt your head to the side with a look like a scorned puppy.

Bucky’s quick to fall victim to your tricks yet again; he leans in and presses sweet kisses to your lips while replying. “Of course I want to live with you, I wanna do everything with you-“

“There we go then, problem solved!” You grin with a mischievous glint in your eye and watch as Bucky frowns in complete confusion.

“What? No! No, problem very much not solved!”

“I think it would-“

“Doll, I don’t give a damn what the living situation is - you can’t put yourself in danger for me.” His tone is leaving little to no room for argument. Little to no room…

“But-“

“No buts, Y/n.” Bucky stops you before you can work your magic on him again. “I love Alpine and i’d be sad if anything happened to her but i’d live. But you?” His voice cracks and he’s closing his eyes to hold back any more tears. “If I lost you I- I don’t think i’d be able to go on. You’re everything to me. I’d sacrifice the world to keep you safe and that means that you can’t go running into burning building or jumping in front of bullets- I don’t even want you drinking your coffee too quickly after I made it cause you might burn your tongue!”

You giggle and lean into his palm.

“You’re my priority, sweets. I need you safe and healthy, so I can’t have you being reckless like you were today. It’s you before everything, okay?”

You nod, and you mean it this time, though Bucky’s not convinced.

“See you’re nodding but I feel like you’re not getting it.”

With a laugh, you pat his toned chest and reach up on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “I get it, James. I’ll try not to do anything reckless going forward.” You pull back and look up at him cheekily. “Not even for your adorable pet cat who is probably tearing Steve’s apartment to shreds right now.”

Bucky’s face drops and he glares at you, though there’s a playful glint in it. Sliding his hand down your arm to catch yours before you try and return to the kitchen, he sobers up. “I need you to promise me, Y/n. Promise me you’ll never put yourself in danger for me.”

You look away as though you haven’t heard him and go to step back again and offer him an actual drink this time.

“Y/n…” He warns, tone low and gruff. “I asked you a question.”

“Technically, it was an order, not a ques-“

Bucky spins you around and pins you against the wall with your hands beside your head. If the look in his eye is anything to go by, you know you’ve successfully irked him. What can you say? After the day he’s put you through, a girl deserves a little fun.

“Quit playin’. I need you to promise me, please.” His tone is raw but firm, yet you continue to blur the line between teasing and down right psychological torture.

“And what if I don’t… sarge?”

Those blue eyes don’t stray from yours, nor does he flinch at your little attempt to claim dominance. You cock a brow at the firefighter with a growing smirk but it only takes one slight nudge of his knee between your thighs to have your confidence faltering.

Bucky leans down, nose ghosting past your ear and breath spilling down your neck. “M’not sure you’re understandin’ me, doll. I ain’t askin’.”

You don’t even think before replying, “Maybe you should.”

Bucky scoffs, “After the shit you pulled today?” He raises your hands above your head, still clamped in his tight grasp, “You’re hardly in a position to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, sweetheart.”

“And what do you think you should do?” You ask meekly.

“I think I should teach you a lesson.” Bucky’s lust blown eyes drop to your lips. “But seeing as you don’t listen to my words, maybe you’ll listen to your sarge’s cock instead, hm?”

A whimper escapes your lips before you can clamp them shut; his lips ghost over yours as he speaks and you find yourself fighting the urge to clash your lips against his.

“M’gonna fuck some sense into you, doll face. S’only fair after everything you put me through…” You let out a breathy sound when he traces his lips down your jawline to your pulse point, eyes fluttering shut.

“James…”

You’re met with silence, but the hand replacing his lips that works to tilt your face to meet his has your eyes snapping open once more.

“Not ‘James’.”

Your frown. “Jamie?”

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re cute when you’re confused, but no. Not ‘Jamie’…” His hand squeezes your throat, leaving you clenching around nothing. “Sarge.”

Breathe catching in your throat, your body stills completely.

“What wrong, sweets? I thought you loved callin’ me sarge.” The longer you stay silent and the wider your eyes grow, Bucky worries he��s gone too far and his gaze softens. “We can stop if-“

“Don’t stop.” You rush out. “…Sarge.”

With a growl, Bucky’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. “On your knees.”

You slide down the narrow gap between your neighbour and the wall, reaching to unbuckle his belt as you do.

“Ah ah ah,” Bucky tuts, hands pulling yours free of his belt, “did I say you could touch me?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, though a raise of his brow reminds you that you’re missing something. “No, sarge.”

The corner of his lips tugs into a smirk. “Good girl. Hands at your sides.”

Sweet Jesus.

Bucky unties his belt, closely followed by the button and zip of his pants and you think it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Turns out, it’s not just you. Your neighbour is fighting the urge to roll his hips into your face with the way you’re lookin’ up at him, eyes flicking back and forth between his and the way his hands are working to free his hard length. Gulping hard, you fingers flex and curl into fists at your sides as you fight the burning desire to touch him.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you? I leave you for a few hours and you’re on your knees for me in minutes.”

“Please,” you beg, thighs clenching.

“You want my cock, doll? Yeah?”

You nod quickly, dragging your eyes away from his leaking cock head to his and pleading with your eyes.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” Bucky hums. He cups your cheek, tracing his pointer finger down the side of your face while his thumb tugs on your bottom lip. He groans so softly at the sight that it’s nearly drowned out by the blood rushing through your ears. “Are you comfortable, sweets?” He asks with softer features.

You whisper a yes before taking his moment of tenderness to test the waters. Dipping your head, you catch his thumb between your lips, lightly sucking on it while your tongue swirls around the tip.

“Knew that mouth was good for somethin’.”

You hold his stare and playfully bite his thumb, a small act of defiance, one that proves to be a costly mistake. The firefighter draws his thumb from your mouth instantly, a smirk toting his lips as he looks at you with disappointment.

“Play nice,” He warns as though he’s scolding a puppy, “or I can go and deal with this myself.”

Your mewl has bucky chuckling to himself.

“You don’t want that, do you baby?”

“No.” Bucky raises an expectant brow. “No, sarge.”

“Good girl.”

He presses the soft, weeping head of his cock to your lips as a reward for your obedience, heart racing as fast as his dick is throbbing when your desperate tongue reaches out to steal a taste of his pre cum off your lips.

“Go ahead, doll. Suck the tip for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice; tongue dipping beneath his cock head, you draw him into your mouth and latch your lips around him tightly. The day fades into the back of your mind like a long lost memory when you close your eyes to savour the feeling of Bucky’s weight in your tongue.

Bucky, meanwhile, can’t hold back his grunts. It’s only the tip and he already thinks he’s seeing God, his head tipped back in pleasure.

“Oh that’s it, that’s it.” He moans.

Your innocent little hums travel down his shaft and straight to his balls. The burning pleasure nearly distracts him enough for him to miss your attempt to take more of him in your mouth. Before you can even register the firefighter drawing his cock free of your warm mouth, you feel it slap across your cheek. The shaft, slick with you spit and his arousal, creates and obscene sound, one that draws a whimper from your now empty mouth.

“What did I say to you, hmm?” A calloused hand grips your chin and tilts your head up. “Tell me.”

“Suck the tip for me.” You don’t miss how pathetic you sound, but you’re drunk on Bucky’s cock and you’d do anything to have him back between your lips at this point. His intense stare smothers any confidence you thought you hand and you wait patiently for his next move.

He shakes his head, unimpressed. “And here I thought you were gonna be good for me.”

“I will!” Gosh, what are you even saying? If you weren’t so intoxicated with him, you’d cringe at how desperate you sound, how desperate you look.

Struck once again by his throbbing length, you can’t help but release a slutty moan. Seriously, you could be mistaken for a pornstar if the neighbours can hear you. They can, but who gives a fuck when you’re staring at your sarge’s dick?

“Does it turn you on when I do that?” Bucky’s head dips lower, pouting condescendingly. “Or is it the thought of taking your sarge’s whole cock down your throat that got your drippin’ onto the floor?”

Bucky notes how your fingers flex at your sides before pressing flat against your soft thighs. The anticipation is clawing at you but you know better now than to take matter into your own hands, even when Bucky takes his shaft and presses the tip to your lips, his other hand holding the back of your head.

“Come on, don’t get all shy on me now. Open up for me, doll. Open up for sarge.”

It’s like he’s toying with you now so your eyebrows pinch together while you let your jaw fall open.

“It’s okay, babydoll. Just keep those sweet eyes on me, that’s it.”

His cock slips further down your throat and by the time you figure out the catch to his sudden grace, the hand holding his cock joins the other at the back of your head and he’s snapping his hips forward.

“There it is, keep lookin’ at me.” Bucky groans, his cock hitting the back of your throat with bruising force. “I wanna see those eyes while I fuck m’girl’s throat.”

His words really aren’t warning enough for what comes next. For stroke and stroke, Bucky ruts into your mouth like you’re his personal little fleshlight, a toy whose sole purpose is to take his cum. He pauses every now and then to give you just enough time to catch your breath before he’s forcing his cock back inside.

The firefighter rambles to himself, praises and grunts reaching your ears intermittently. After all, the sound of your gags are hard to hear past.

As the shock of Bucky’s sudden dominance passes, you lean into your new role with ease; sticking your tongue out to give him free reign, bobbing your head along with his thrusts, occasionally holding your head close to the base of his shaft for seconds at a time. Every trick you know, you use.

“Argh, just like that. Making your sa-arge feel so good, doll.” He stutters through his words when you keep swirling your tongue around him, but when he looks down again and is met with your glossy eyes looking right back at him, his cock fucking twitches. “Fuck, sweets, you’re gonna make me cum!”

You moan around him, enjoying the way his brows pull closer together and his mouth curves into an ‘o’ when you do.

“Would you like that, doll? To taste me?”

Muffled by his sex, murmur a yes down his length, bobbing your head faster.

“Oh yeah, God- you’re gonna look so damn hot swallowing my cum. Might even sh-shoot some over your pretty face, take a photo for next time i’m- fuck- on a night shift.”

The insinuation that Bucky would use that photo to jerk off at the firehouse drives you to work harder. To suck harder.

“Fuck fuck fuck oh baby don’t stop. Please don’t stop, i’m so close.”

The ache in your neck begs you to ease up, but the look in Bucky’s eyes has you relaxing your throat one last time and bringing your hands up to his toned ass.

Hoping your performance will make up for disobeying him, your hands hold him closer. Bucky’s cock delves that little bit deeper down your throat and it’s enough to tip him over the edge.

“I’m gonna cum oh my fuckkkk- fuck doll, I’m cumming. I’m cumming ohh-“

Thick ropes of his seed race down your throat and you swallow around him, welcoming the salty taste. Realising you’ve not taken a breathe since he let go, Bucky tries to pull back and let you breathe, but you dig your fingernails into his ass just enough to make him hiss: a warning that he shouldn’t dare pull out.

You ignore your lungs scream for air and nurse on his cock, milking every last drop of his cum. You have no idea how you manage to stay conscious but it isn’t until Bucky’s length is soft in your mouth that you pull off him.

“There you go. Breathe, baby.” Bucky encourages, tucking your hair behind your ear as you cough and splutter for a moment. When your breath finally catches up to you, your voice is raspy and coarse.

“I promise.”

Your neighbour looks at you incredulously, his mind working overtime to figure out what it is that you’re promising until eventually, it dawns on him.

The promise that started all this. The promise not to put yourself in danger for him.

“And you decided that before or after I fucked that pretty mouth? Hmm?” He asks, his thumb tracing your cheek bone gently.

“Before I was even on my knees…”

Breathing a ‘fuck’ beneath his breath, Bucky pounces; within seconds, you’re suspended in the air and being carried bridal style down the hallway, leaving a trails of giggles and squeals in your wake.

“Last one on the right.” You share between laughs, reading you neighbour’s mind before he even has chance to ask.

Kicking the door open, Bucky carries you to the bed and places you down gently, a far cry from the rough and heavy treatment you got in the living room. You watch in a haze as he kicks off his boots and socks before he’s back on top of you.

“If you knew you’d promise beforehand, why’d ya let me keep goin’?” Bucky asks, eyes searching your own.

A knowing smile tugs at your lips and you look up at him through your lashes. “Cause I wanted you to.”

Your reply takes Bucky aback, his features contorting into one of surprise before settling back into one of awe, all while his heads shakes in what you assume to be disbelief.

“And what do you want now?” He asks with the slightest raise of his brow, waiting in anticipation for your next move.

With a brief glance at his lips, one that sends his cock jumping, you lean up to Bucky’s ear.

“I want you to do what you promised me in that note you left this morning.”

Bucky laughs, “You remember that, huh?”

You nod into his neck and kiss your way to the base of his throat. “Been thinking about your promises all day, sarge. You makin’ up for ditchin’ me for work…”

Latching your lips around the skin of his neck, you suck until it begins to bruise.

“…How you’d fuck me in your henley…”

Your lips travel north, up the ridge of his stubble covered adam’s apple, tongue trailing a bold stripe up his skin. The sensation has Bucky tipping his head back in pleasure and groaning; hearing his reaction to you never fails to make your cunt pulse, but feeling the vibrations beneath your tongue makes your cunt throb. Settling just above the peak of his adam’s apple, you bruise the skin with your lips once more.

“…maybe remake some of my dreams…”

Goosebumps rise in the wake of your touch as you tease a hand under your neighbour’s shirt, from his half buckled belt line to the muscle ridged plane between his shoulder blades.

“…oh and you’d love them, sarge.” You goad, teasing your tongue up to his ear. “You always fuck me so good in them.”

“Tell me about ‘em.”

Pulling back ever so slightly, you find Bucky’s half lidded eyes to be black, his pupils so blown wide that you wonder how on earth he’s not being blinded by the light, as dimly lit as the room is anyway.

“Well this one time, I dreamt you picked me up from work.” You hum. “You’d just gone for one of your runs, and it was hot out, so you were only wearing your shorts.”

Bucky sits back on his heels, careful not to squash your legs, and brings his hands to the hem of his shirt. Slowly, teasingly, he draws the navy fabric higher and higher until he’s freed himself from its constraints. Your blatant ogling of his chiselled torso is cut short when he leans over you once more, tendrils of hair tumbling into your face.

“Then what?” he asks, searching your eyes as though they hold the answer.

“W-well you’d left something at the firehouse, and we had to go get it. It was somewhere in your office, but while I helped look for it, I knocked an award off the shelf and it smashed in two. You made me pay you back.”

Bucky’s brows draw closer, “Well that’s not the type of dream I thought y-“

“With my mouth,” you interrupt, “on your cock.”

Lip caught between his teeth, the firefighter ruts into you, and you realise just how hard he’s gotten despite cumming down your throat less than five minutes ago.

“Sounds familiar.” Bucky drawls, eyes dropping to your lips. The ones he is now all too familiar with.

“Hmm, well seeing as we’ve already done that, why don’t you ask me what happens next?”

With bated breath, Bucky asks “What happens next, doll?”

“Well, you didn’t like that you were the only one half dressed, and you told me to take me top off.”

You watch your neighbour tug at the bottom of your top and gently slip it over your head. “Bra too?” You’re convinced you see Bucky pout when you shake your head.

“Not yet. Even with the one way glass, I got nervous that someone would see me through your office window.“

He smirks. “You weren’t nervous when you were sucking me off?”

“I wasn’t the one with my dick out for the whole firehouse to see.” You scoff. “But you wanted to prove to me that no one would see a thing.”

“How?”

“You texted Peter to come check you’d locked your office at the end of your shift, turned and faced the centre of the window, and stripped completely.” Reaching between your bodies, you push back Bucky’s jeans and boxers until he takes over and rids himself of them fully.

Eyeing up your neighbours body, bare just for you, you wet your lips and continue.

“And then you looked right at me, and starting stroking your cock.”

This time, it doesn’t take your guiding hands for Bucky to wrap a hand around his hardened length and jerk himself off.

“Fuck,” You murmur, “just like that. Looks even better like this, sarge.”

Your praise earns you a searing kiss, one that’s broken all too soon by Bucky ordering you to keep going.

“Peter walked right past the window and didn’t even flinch. Fuck, you were going so fast, I was scared he’d hear you.” Bucky responds by fucking his fist faster, and boy did the sounds your mind conjured up not do a damn bit of justice for the real thing.

Chest heaving and grunts tumbling from his lips like water from a fountain, Bucky tucked his head into the crook of your neck and began licking and sucking like his life depended on it. You bring a hand to his head, needing through his hair to distract yourself from the fact the man you love is laying on top of you and jerking off.

“Don’t stop.” He nips at the skin right beneath you ear in warning.

“Pe-Peter left after trying the door, like we weren’t even there. You pulled me in front of you and- fuck- you, um, you took my bra off and- ohh…”

Bucky releases his cock and reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. He tears it off you, and, like a man possessed, wraps his swollen lips around your left nipple and suckles on it. You moan immediately, back arching into him when you feel his throbbing length against your stomach.

“Jamie, please-“

“Don’t care if this didn’t happen in your dream, lemme suck m’doll’s tits.”

With his mouth feeling like heaven on your skin, you can’t remember anything about the dream, nor do you care to try. But it’s not long before Bucky has you dreaming about something else…

“Wanna taste your milk, sweets, gonna fuck a baby into you and suck on these full, pretty tits till I can drink from ‘em.”

Well that’s new, you think, pussy clenching around nothing at the image of your neighbour suckling on your own breasts.

He turns to love on your other boob, mumbling incoherently into your plush skin. “You like your sarge playing with your tits, doll?”

You mewl a yes when he looks up at you while continuing his assault.

“Atta girl.” He praises, “What next?”

You look down at him in bewilderment.

“In your dream, sweets. What happens next?”

“Oh…” you blush at how easily he’s distracted you. “Umm, you take my bra off and turn me around and you take my jeans and panties off.”

You faintly hear a ‘Yes Ma’am’ before you being flipping onto your stomach and having your hips lifted so Bucky can tug your jeans and panties off.

“So pretty,” Bucky swoons, “so fuckin’ pretty like this, all on show f’me. What now, sweet girl?”

You gulp, knowing what came after this, and knowing you’re finally about to get what you’ve been fantasising about ever since the damn dream itself.

“You bend me over,” He lifts you up onto your hands and knees but pushes you into the bed between you shoulder blades. “And you hold my hip with one hand, and r-run your cock through my- um-“

Stumbling over your words, Bucky leans forward until his lips brush the curve of your ear. “Through your pussy lips? Hmm?”

You nod eagerly, waiting patiently for him to follow suit. It feels like hours before a hand finds your left hip, and days before you finally feel the swollen tip of his cock delving through your folds. Hiding your whimpers into the pillow, Bucky presses lovingly kisses to the back of your neck and across your shoulders.

“Like this, baby?”

Your muffled agreement brings a smirk to his lips as he continues to rut through your sex. So consumed by the moment, Bucky doesn’t notice you reaching behind yourself to tug on his hair. The feeling surprises him enough that you hear a small gasp fall from his lips, and you take full advantage of him being off guard to push your hips back into his, at just the right point for his cock to slip inside your desperate hole.

“And then,” you pull Bucky by his hair till you’re able to look him in the eye, “you fuck me.” You say, watching as his pleasure-struck expression morphs into one of awe; the stillness of the moment leaves nothing but your tangled breathes to be heard before your neighbour’s body catches up with his thoughts, and he finally rocks into you.

It’s slower than you’d expected. Deep thrusts arrive inch by agonising inch, allowing the walls of your weeping cunt to memorising every vein of Bucky’s length. Mouth curved and brows pinched, the firefighter buries his face deeper into your neck, cries of your own name falling upon your ears like a prayer.

“So fuckin’ tight for me, doll.”

“Just-“ A moan tears through you as Bucky’s cock edges further inside your pussy, “just for you, Jamie.”

“God, you can’t say shit like that, baby. I won’t last.”

Well in that case…

“S’all yours, sarge, yours to fuck wh-whenever you want.” You drawl, enjoying the way Bucky’s hips stutter mid thrust. “Cock’s fillin’ me up so damn good, you’ve ruined me for anyone else. Only you can make me feel this good, baby.”

Spurred on by your praise, Bucky speeds up, ramming into you faster with each stroke. The searing hot pleasure has him releasing a long train of swear words, muffled by your own skin.

“You really want me to bust, don’t you? Practically begging for your sarge’s cum like a whore.”

A fresh wave of arousal rushes around his dick and the sound of his balls slapping against your folds grows louder.

“Hear that, sweets? How wet this pussy is f’me? Fuck, we sound so good together, babydoll.” Bucky grunts while fucking into you with vigour. Long gone is the slow rutting he started with, his hips now slamming into you faster than you can cope.

“I know you’re close,” Bucky murmurs, “I am too. My balls’ haven’t felt this full in my life. Gonna give you every last drop, sweets. Bet that’s what your dirty little head imagined, isn’t it?”

Words fail you and your left with nothing but whimpers to give in response, but your neighbour isn’t satisfied.

“Tell me, doll, you’re the one who wanted this, huh? Tell me how hard you came in your dreams when I filled you up with my cum.”

“Argh!” If your throat weren’t so bruised from being a fleshlight for a certain firefighter, your exclamation may have sounded like a scream. Instead, it comes out broken, tired, and laced with a burning desire to be bred. “Squirted a-all over you, sarge, it went everywhere, I- oh fuck- I’ve never cum so h-hard in my life!”

“That’s my perfect girl, gonna make you cum so hard you never have to dream of my cock ever again, okay? I’ll give it to you whenever my girl needs it.”

The knot in your belly is tightening just a step faster than Bucky’s balls are; you’re mere seconds away from giving him everything, but you wait for him to tell you that you can.

You peer over your shoulder to find him with his lip between his teeth, his eyes closed as he focuses solely on making you feel good. You watch in real time as he slides a hand around your waist and delve between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit faster than you ever have.

God, he knows you so well.

“Jamie, please, please- oh- I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum, sarge, please!” You cry, the strumming of your clit ready to send you over the edge.

“You want my permission, doll?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Jamie.”

“I’ll let you cum,” He begins, mouth drawing closer to yours as those glassy blue eyes bear into your own, “if you tell me you love me.”

“Fuck, that’s it?” You all but scoff. “That’s like asking me to breathe.”

Resting his forehead against yours, Bucky rocks his hips into yours and his eyelids flutter shut. “Just need to hear it, doll.”

With a single, love-soaked kiss, you tell him what he wants to hear. Not because you’re desperate to finally let go, but because it’s true.

“I love you, James.”

The next few minutes are a blur. You orgasm tears through you like a freight train and your sweet juices soak Bucky in just seconds. He, however, has buried himself so deep inside you that the cum shooting from his cock head hits your g-spot, and sends you tumbling into yet another orgasm.

Your ever tightening cunt grips onto Bucky like a vice, and it keeps him from pulling out. Not that he ever planned on it. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d give you every last drop.

Hot, white seed spills out around his length and onto the sheets, enough that you wonder if he ever came inside you in the first place. But while your sex’s remain fused together, as do your foreheads; Bucky never pulled back, and neither did you, the sheer need to be closer than close keeping you from parting.

Despite your sorry attempt to stay awake, Bucky whispers sweet nothings into your ear until you still beneath him. He has no intentions of forcing you to stay awake, not when he gets the honour of watching over you, to keep a close eye on your sleeping form as you rest in his hold. Eventually, once your breathing has evened out and the rise and fall of your chest has slowed, he’ll reluctantly pull himself out of your warmth and clean up any cum that’s clung to your thighs. He’ll wipe the drying beads of sweat from your brow and run his fingers through the soft but tangled hair tumbling over your shoulders. The lamps will be switched off, clothes will be folded neatly on the dresser, front door will be locked and blankets straightened and tucked in around you.

And then he’ll climb under the sheets to join his beautiful doll, the one he’d give everything for. He’ll thank the heavens you got out of that building today, but he’ll thank them more for bringing you back to him. Back to his loving arms, that he’ll wrap around you and pull you to his chest. You’ll snuggle into him, press a sleepy kiss to his bare chest, and drag him into your dreams with you.

a/n: ok ok ok i’m sorry it took like a year to get this done. most of it has been written for months, but i just couldn’t figure out how i wanted it to go when bucky turned up at her doorstep. i hope you liked it, i also hope it’s not too horny (but let’s be real, it’s a smut fest). let’s see if i actually get on with any other projects 🤭

🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @pank0w @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @sorenevans @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378 @angelbabyyy99 @selella @itvy5601 @noonespecial90 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @ordelixx @krispybearbouquet @matchat3a @cl7ire @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @julvrs @anghstybean @eah-marvel-trolls @pono-pura-vida @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @ratchildspartan @mcira @morpheusmybeloved @sebastians-love @mushycore @pinkpantheris @tripletstephaniescp @whitexwolfxx310 @spookyparadisesheep @buggy14 @shortnloud @slowgabinaburninroom @designatednewbie @heletsmelovehim @mistressofallthingsgeeky @stoneyggirl2 @thedonswife13 @zbutx @mrsnikstan @cassandras-next @eris-rose-86 @diabarnes @danzer8705 @notsostrangerthing @thedevilnamedlola @crazyunsexycool @frickin-bats @katidid78 @kandis-mom @suckerfordylansstuff @sp1d3r-z1t @titasweetandsour @jvg02

[dameronspector]

Challengers: Avengers Edition (Part 3)

Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Stark!Reader (Established Relationship); Bob Reynolds x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Sam decides to sue, Sam and Bucky are being angsty for no reason, Bob finally talks to Yelena and Bucky, you get invited to a gala and and Joaquin is a lil upset.

Warnings: Fuff, Banter, Angst, Cameos, Joaquin loves Reader a LOT, Joaquin being a cutie, Poor Bob suffers :(,CAUTION: Mentions of Bob’s Addiction, Drugs and Mental Illnesses, Graphic discussion of Bob's withdrawals from drugs and his past, the Void demeans Bob, I am NOT romanticizing pre!serum Bob. He is depicted to have an unhealthy/codependent attachment and that is NOT romantic. Valentina is a piece of shit, SO much Yearning and Longing from Bob, SamBucky are dads and cough best friends, Jealous!Joaquin, Jealous!Bob, Reader is oblivious as hell because she has eyes for Joaquin only, Reader is mentioned to have hair long enough to be let down loose, thats all i think! Let me know if i should add something else!

Also, sorry if the timeline is a lil confusing :(

AN: just watched Ironheart, you guys, PLS WATCH THE SHOW! its sooo good and riri my girl is just amazing! please support dominique! <3

"So...we're definitely suing."

Sam announced as he entered the living area, where all of you were lounging around.

Kamala and Kate were sitting on the bean bags, huddled over a laptop as they watched a show, Scott was scavenging in the pantry for something to eat, Carol had decided to busy herself with digging up some more dirt on Valentina, sitting at the dining table, while Joaquin laid his head on your lap, your soft hand buried in his curls, other hand holding a book. His eyes were closed, hands folded on his chest, light snores leaving his mouth.

All of you, minus Joaquin, looked up in shock.

"What...do you mean?", you asked nervously.

Sam rubbed his eyes.

"Well, they're not ready to expose her themselves. He said their hands are under a rock and that they really cannot do anythin'."

You bit your tongue to avoid blurting out that you and Joaquin knew this already.

"What's next?", Kate asked.

"We'll contact our lawyers right away. I'm not letting that woman think ahead of us for even a second. I've talked to Jennifer already, said she'll meet me tonight. Carol, you're comin' with me", he sighed.

Carol simply nodded her head.

"I feel like I'm getting a deja vu", Scott quipped with his mouth stuffed with Oreos.

"Did Mr. Stark and Steve fight like this, (Name)?", Kamala asked you in curiosity, side eyeing Sam nervously.

You looked at Sam who shook his head in dejection.

"Yes, but worse, because they wouldn't hear each other out", you answered her lowly. Sam sighed.

"Alright, It's nearing 6, so you", he pointed at Kamala, "need to get back, before your mom calls us all."

Kamala’s eyes widened before she pulled up Kate, and they left in a hurry, throwing a quick ‘Bye’ over their shoulders. Carol was staying back because she had to go meet Jennifer with Sam, while Scott left shortly as he had a date with Hope.

Now that the base was empty, you decided to finally have a talk with Sam.

You watched him walk around the sofa and join Carol at the dining table, discussing something with her. Dog-earing your book, you laid it on the couch next to you, gently lifting Joaquin’s head off your lap and putting a pillow under him. His eyebrows scrunched up a little before he curled on his side, crossing his arms sighing sleepily.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before standing up and approaching Sam.

“Guys?”

He turned around, frowning at the nervous look on your face, “Yeah?”

“Um-Carol, I’m so sorry, but I need to talk to Sam about something. Would you mind if I steal him for sometime?”, you requested her, not wanting to make her feel left out.

She smiled, “Yeah, of course. Please, go ahead. I need to read this file anyways.”

Sam and you walked over to his personal office, where he stared at you like he’d already read your mind.

“Spit it out, Stark”, he quipped, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You looked at him and covered your face with your hands.

“You’re gonna hate me”, you groaned.

“What?”, Sam stood up straight.

You removed your hands from your face and put them on your hips instead, chewing on the inside of your cheek before spilling everything.

“Uh-Joaquin and I went to the Tower yesterday.”

Sam paused, his eyes wide in disbelief, “You did what?”

“…yeah”, you grimaced.

And Sam spiralled, just a little, out of worry for you two, his eyes wide and face slack.

“Kid, I told y’all not to do this one thing, specifically. What goes on- why did ya’ll even go there? And did anybody see you? Hold on, did Valen-”

“Hey, relax. Nobody saw us, I promise, Sam. We went through the launch pad, so, no security or media people saw us. And no, Valentina wasn’t there either, so don’t worry”, you consoled him.

Sam rubbed a hand down his face, “That doesn’t make it any better, what if they use this against us? What if they’re all going to provoke Valentina against us? This changes everything about the case and now the two of you are caught in the between-”

“Sam-Sam!”, you called him out loudly, holding his flailing hands in yours to ground him.

“I know, we don’t know the team properly, but I swear, they all want Valentina to fall, just as much as we do.”

Sam frowned, “What?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what Bucky told you but he’s right, they’re all lost. She’s holding them hostage and manipulating the Bob guy, who was responsible for the whole black out thing”, you squeezed his hands earnestly.

“That’s…yeah, he did say that. What else do you know? You talked to all of ‘em?”, he murmured.

You released his hands and tugged your cardigan sleeves over your hands.

“Most of it was just her manipulating and threatening to expose them. She’d reintroduce all the omitted information from their files, that could turn them into convicted criminals again, if they disobeyed her.”

You swallowed thickly before continuing, “And this Bob guy…Sam, he’s got a heavy past. Drug addict along with a long history of mental illness. Which is why he’s been so unstable and she’s been using him as a weapon. That blackout thing? That was due to a depressive episode that Valentina forced onto him”, you solemnly relayed the information to Sam, who just frowned harder.

“Has she lost her damn mind? She should be put behind the bars for abetting someone, add the scammy stuff later”, he muttered in disbelief.

You pursed your lips, “I know. She’s a fucking leech.”

Sam furrowed his brows. He couldn’t believe this woman had the audacity to groom a mentally ill person to be an indestructible weapon and worsen their condition.

“And no, we didn’t get to talk to them properly, but they seemed pretty over it. Bucky said he’ll talk to them. Did he tell you anything about it?”

Sam snorted humourlessly, “It was just a whole lotta ‘I don’t know, man’, ‘I’m sorry, Sam’, ‘I can’t do anything except wait’”.

That tracks. He’d said the same to you.

“Yeah. He said the same to us. Honestly, you guys are worse than my dad and Steve”, you huffed.

“Excuse me?”, Sam quirked an eyebrow.

“At least those two fought and yelled at each other. You guys don’t even do that. It’s just endless pining and yearning”, you quipped, pretending to look at your nails.

Sam sputtered, “Wh-Wait. No. That’s not what’s happening-”

“Okay, okay, Cap. I got you”, you chuckled, choosing to go easy on the man. Sam glared at you, his face could radiate steam if it could, because he was positively flustered.

“Alright, listen. Here’s what we’re doing next. We have to get the team on our side first. Build the rapport and trust, and then, make them testify against Valentina. She’s holding them hostage anyways, so it’s not like we are lying about it”, you suggested.

Sam nodded solemnly, “Yeah. I was thinkin’ of meeting the rest but I dunno how, without raising a few eyebrows.”

You folded your arms across your chest, “Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure something out. Valentina loves the whole parade. She will probably arrange a gala or a party for the team so that all the big shots visit her.”

“You think she’ll invite us?”, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sure she will. She wants you to see all of this, rub it in our faces and all that crap. But before that happens, we need to file this case, Sam.”

He nodded, “Yeah, of course. Gonna insist Jennifer and might even meet up with Murdock. We need all hands on deck.”

“That’s good”, you nodded before perking up, “Would you mind, if I suggested you to meet up with her at a different place?”

Sam frowned, “I mean, no, but why?”

You chewed on your lip, “I don’t trust her. At all. If you’re gonna meet at a bustling place, she’s probably gonna keep an eye on you. You’d have to take a trip but, it’s important.”

“Yeah, okay, go on.”

“So, dad had this hide out kinda thing. In Virginia. It’s fully surveilled with high tech security, I’ll manage it myself and FRIDAY has access, too. It’s better if all the meetings related to this case take place there. I don’t want you, Jennifer or Carol risking your own assets or lives for this.”

“That makes sense, yeah. Sure”, Sam nodded.

“I’ll send a car to pick up Jennifer. You guys will be okay?”, you inquired.

“No no, we’re good. Virginia’s not that far from here and I know a route, so we’ll be fine. Thanks, kid”, Sam patted your shoulder, a soft smile tugging at lips because he couldn’t help but see your father in you. They had their differences, but Tony Stark was always the first in line to help his team.

You flashed him a sincere smile before turning serious again, glossy eyes looking up at him with so much trust.

“Sam, if there’s any two people, in this whole world who can get through this, it’s you and Buck. You’re not like my dad or Steve. What you have is special. You’re each other’s family. It doesn’t matter that you’re the leaders of two different teams, the two of you will always, always find a way. Please remember that. We need you two to come together for this. And it will happen if you guys just..talk.”

Sam tilted his head, eyes shining with longing and something else.

“I asked Bucky the same, and now I’m asking you the same thing. Promise me, that the two of you will fix this, together”, you croaked.

Sam looked at you for a moment before brushing his hand across your back soothingly, a wet smile spreading on his lips.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I promise.”

You exchanged sad smiles, bringing up a hand to wipe your eyes when there was a knock on the door to the office.

“Bet it’s your clingy boyfriend”, Sam teased.

You snorted, wiping your eyes on your sleeves before Sam walked over to the door, revealing a half awake Joaquin, his hair was mussed with sleep and plaid shirt wrinkled from the tossing and turning.

He looked so warm and cosy, it took everything in you to not tackle him in a hug.

“Good morning, sunshine”, Sam boomed, wrapping an arm around Joaquin’s shoulders and hiding you from his view.

You pursed your lips to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

“Hi….where’s-where’s (Name)”, his sleepy voice cracked as he spoke, a hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“She went back at her apartment, man. Said she’d let you sleep for sometime”, Sam teased further. He knew exactly how Joaquin would get clingy and snappy after he woke up and how he’d relax only if you were with him.

That seemed to have snapped him out of his sleep, his back suddenly straightened up in attention, a sad little pout tugging his lips down. As if someone stole his candy.

“Wait, she left? Without me? I was supposed to drop her home, bro. We were gonna go on a grocery run and I was gonna help her with dinner, and I—”

You giggled loudly, both of the men whipped their heads behind to look at you.

Sam in amusement, Joaquin in disbelief.

And then Joaquin grumbled, Sam shaking his shoulders while cackling.

“Oh man, you’re so whipped. I’m never letting you live that down, by the way. You should’ve seen your face!”, Sam wheezed, leaning against Joaquin, who was still grumbling, a whine leaving his mouth.

“Stop it. You guys are the worst”, he groaned loudly and rubbed his face with his hands. You pouted.

“Alright. Alright. I gotta go. You guys can stay if you wanna. It’s too late to go back, anyways. (Name), please look into picking up Jennifer, yeah?”, Sam instructed and squeezed Joaquin’s shoulders.

You nodded and Sam murmured a ‘Bye’ to Joaquin, before leaving.

Joaquin scrunched his nose before bee lining towards you, strong arms going around your waist and head buried in your neck. Letting a smile pull at your cheeks, you bring your arms around his back, smoothing your palms over the wide expanse, feeling his muscles move underneath them as your head leaned against his temple.

“Good nap?”, you asked quietly.

His warm breath hit your chest, soft curls tickling your jaw as he nodded in affirmation.

“Missed you though. Why’d you leave me alone”, you could practically hear the pout in his scratchy voice. You sighed.

“Sorry, baby bird. I needed to tell Sam about everything that happened yesterday.”

That got his attention, pulling back from your neck to look at you, arms still caging you in his embrace, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh, damn. How’d it go?”

You busied yourself with straightening his collar while filling him in.

“Well, Bucky called him. Said the same things he said to us. They must’ve had a disagreement because the first thing Sam said after the call, was that we’re definitely suing. So he’s gone to meet Jennifer Walters right now, with Carol. I decided to tell him everything before he found out from someone else.”

Joaquin’s eyes widened, “Please tell me he’s not grounding us.”

You huffed a laugh, rubbing his chest soothingly, “No, I handled it and told him that we had it in control.”

Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief, before you continued.

“So now we gotta wait till Valentina announces a gala or a party or something, which she will definitely do because-”,

“She’s an attention seeker”, Joaquin deadpanned, squeezing your waist, jaw clenched in annoyance.

You snorted, “Exactly. And she’ll definitely invite us, or Sam, at least. I’ve requested him to keep in contact with Bucky and sort out whatever they’ve got going on. We need all of them on our side, and to testify against that woman. Sam has agreed to all of this, thankfully.”

Joaquin smiled in relief.

“That’s good. You’re good. You’re so smart, baby”, he praised, brown eyes oozing with love and pride.

You blushed, ducking your head to avoid his intense eye contact, “Shut up.”

Joaquin laughed and pulled you closer, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, enveloping you in a warm hug, both of you unaware of the storm brewing back at the Tower.

-

Yesterday

Bucky and Yelena speed walked towards Bob’s room, the only place where he could be in their absence.

The conference had taken longer than expected, all of them were a cranky and tired mess by the second half. Now they just couldn’t even bear to see each other’s faces or talk to anybody.

But Yelena reminded him of Bob. The events that took place during the day, your arrival, Bucky’s emotional conversation with you and Joaquin, and Bob’s sudden attraction to you, and they immediately got to work, leaving behind the other three to quickly check on the golden boy, who was still in his room, they assumed.

They exchanged a worried look before Yelena opened the door carefully, making sure to make minimal noise so as to not freak the boy out.

The room was dark. The only light that came in, was the moonlight, coating the room in a dark blue hue, highlighting a large lump on the bed, curled up in a fetal position.

For a second, they worried that the Void was out again, both of their hearts thundering against their ribs. Bucky slowly made his way towards the side table, flicking on the lamp that perched on it.

The lamp coated the room in a golden glow, finally shedding some light on the large form resting atop the bed—Bob. Just Bob. No jet black shadow covering him.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Yelena rounded the corner and sat on the opposite side, observing Bob’s sleeping face closely.

“Just asleep”, Yelena murmured, making Bucky unclench his fists.

“Should we wake him up?”, he rasped.

Yelena thought about it for a moment, before nodding hesitantly.

“Yeah. It’s been a while since we left, anyway. If we don’t talk now, we’re gonna keep delaying it and he’ll keep avoiding it.”

Bucky pursed his lips before nodding in approval, letting her do the job of waking Bob up.

Yelena gently placed her hand on his shoulder, shaking him carefully like she was handling a bomb waiting to go off.

“Bob? Wake up, c’mon”, she shook his arm.

A breath left his nose, eyebrows twitching before he suddenly jerked, eyes whipping open in a sudden manner.

Yelena jumped, raising her hands in a surrender manner, Bucky made himself more visible to Bob so as to not scare him further.

“It’s okay, it’s just us. Yelena and Bucky. You’re okay”, Yelena’s raspy voice soothed him.

Bob blinked a few times before sitting up, hands rubbing his eyes to clear his vision of the bleariness. He swallowed thickly, trying to forget the very realistic memory he’d had of you, before clearing his throat.

“H-hey guys. You’re back. That’s..that’s nice. What’s the time?”

“It’s past 9pm, kid. Did you have dinner?”, Bucky asked softly, his voice coated in concern.

Bob furrowed his brows, “9 pm? Damn, I-I don’t know when I dozed off…and no, I didn’t have dinner yet”, he sheepishly admitted, hands playing with the edges of his sleeve.

Honestly, he was still out of it. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, half expecting to have an episode but surprisingly his body had fallen into a slumber.

“That’s okay. We’ll order somethin’ for you”, Yelena offered, exchanging a look with Bucky, who was already ordering some burgers and fries for Bob, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh. That’s nice of you. Thank you”, Bob gave them one of his crooked smiles, one that was teetering between a frown and a smile.

Yelena gave him a tight lipped smile before deciding to ask away.

“Bob, we need to talk.”

He tensed up, eyebrows shooting up in fear, a few strands of brown curls framing his eyes, “Wait, what-what did I do? Did the-did the other guy show up again? I’m sorry, it’s just, not been a good day and I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. It’s nothing like that”, Bucky placated, a hand held out to stop Bob’s ramblings.

Bob’s mouth fell open in disbelief, glassy eyes switching between the two figures in front of him.

“So-what is it..?”, he asked hesitantly.

Yelena gave him a sympathetic look, deciding to ask him directly in that straight forward way she does, “Bob…what happened with (Name)? Why were you acting so…weird?”

Bob froze. Blood rushed to his ears as everything came running back to him. Your face. Your voice. His sudden possessiveness. His jealousy towards Joaquin.

You and Joaquin together.

Bob clenched his jaw, leaning away from Yelena and averting his gaze from both of the assassins in shame and anger—towards himself and towards the situation.

“Nothing”, he simply murmured, closing his eyes tightly to get rid of the voices and images of Joaquin’s hands on you.

Yelena frowned, Bucky shook his head.

“It’s not nothing. You were practically staring holes into Joaquin, I saw your eyes glow golden as well. You looked at her like-like she’s some kinda ghost. Or a god. And you’ve been asleep for what? Almost 8-9 hours? Don’t lie, kid”, Bucky conceded firmly, his voice taking the shape of a tired and worried father.

At hearing Joaquin’s name, Bob’s jaw clenched tighter, somehow. That same green monster clawing his way up his throat.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he wasn’t being a dick to me”, he scoffed, looking at Bucky incredulously, a strange attitude overtaking him.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow while Yelena’s mouth fell open.

“This! You’re being aggressive, again! What’s with this attitude, Reynolds?”, she cried out, folding her hands across her chest.

Bob narrowed his eyes, those golden tendrils shimmering behind his irises again, “So I shouldn’t defend myself when someone’s being an asshole to me?”

Her eyes widened, looking at Bucky for help, who just scoffed in disbelief.

“Not when you’re ogling said person’s girlfriend like he wasn’t standing in front of you. Not when you’re poking at him for simply standing next to his girlfriend, Bob.”

That struck Bob straight, wincing as if the jab had hit him directly in the chest, shrinking into his skin once again, blue eyes focused onto his fingers picking the skin around his nails in nervousness.

He knew he was acting strange. He knew he was provoking Joaquin for no reason. And he knew he had no right to feel so possessive over you. All of it was wrong and shameful.

But he just couldn’t help it.

Not when you were no less than a god, as Bucky had mentioned, to him.

As damaged as he was, he had feelings too. Real, raw, human feelings.

“S-sorry. I just…I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. Really sorry”, he whispered with his eyes shut tightly, making him see stars behind his lids as his hands kept picking at each other.

“See? You’ve once again managed to ruin everything….”

That voice was back again. Bob shook his head in denial.

Concerned, Yelena put her hands on his fidgeting ones, separating them before holding them tightly to ground him.

“It’s okay, Bob. We want to help you. But we can’t if you don’t tell us what’s happening. Is there something you’d like to share?”, she gently prodded, bending slightly to look at him.

He still wouldn’t meet her eyes, lips quivering with the sob he was holding in.

Bucky sighed sadly, “Bob…do you like (Name)? If that’s the case, then, I’m sorry to tell you but, she’s already-”

A few tears escaped Bob’s eyes, face scrunched up in pain before he decided to correct Bucky, unable to hold it in any longer.

"You don't get it", he whispered, cutting off Bucky, who paused.

"What do you mean?", Yelena asked from his right, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

They were going to find out someday. It’s not like he wasn’t obvious or anything.

“…I love her”, he finally answered, his voice a weak and tired variant of itself.

The room was suddenly too quiet. Bob swore he could hear the rustle of the mattress and the traffic below. Bucky's mouth hung open as he stared at Bob blankly and Yelena decided to break the silence by blurting out, "What?"

Bob winced again, removing his hands from Yelena's grip.

"That's-you don't even know her, Bob. You just met her. That's not possible", Bucky reasoned, a frown tugging at his already stressed face, the lines next to his eyes more prominent due to the low light in the room.

Bob's jaw ticked, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth as he mulled over Bucky's words. Even though he was right, he didn't know how you were an anchor for Bob. How he'd decided to get his shit together after learning about you. How Angela would convince him to get better by talking about you and your philanthropy. How he'd seen all of your speeches and talks on his friend's borrowed computer and on Angela's TV, who purposefully set it to your interviews when he would stumble into her shop.

Did he know you personally? No.

Had you changed his life? Yeah. In more than one way.

When he had nobody who stuck around in his life, your face and voice was a constant. You were The (Name) Stark, with a face as radiant as the sun, who was incredibly resilient and courageous and with a heart made of gold, and yeah, you didn't even deserve someone like him. But he was sure that if he ever tried to talk to you, just as a friend, you'd never disappoint him like the others did. The others who left him when it got tougher.

Maybe he was being parasocial. But how would he know the answers to his questions, if nobody gave him a chance to even talk to you? Even a 'thank you' would suffice, he thought. But he couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you any longer. Even being in your orbit was nothing short of an honor for him.

"You don't get it, Bucky. She's-she's saved me. When I had no one, I had her voice to keep me grounded. Even before reaching the lab, I had borrowed a phone, from someone. I used to listen to her speeches every day. On repeat. I'd throw it aside when the withdrawals would start. But I'd feel this...this hole in my chest, craving her voice just as badly as the drugs. And sometimes...sometimes I'd cry my eyes out while I withered on the ground. But my earphones would always play her voice", Bob's voice cracked as he confessed.

Bucky and Yelena were stunned into silence.

The fact that Bob was aware of you before coming here. And unknowingly, you'd played a vital part in his life and where he was today, was so shocking that Bucky stared at Bob's tearful face dumbly while Yelena felt her own eyes water, head turned towards the side to hide her tears.

"I told myself, if I get to meet her, I'm thanking her. For just…being there, even if she wasn’t there physically. For her speeches and work. But...when I saw her, in person today...I realised that...it wasn't just a stupid crush or-or some weird codependent attachment. Her entire energy, the way she holds herself, it's so powerful. I-I haven't been with someone in a long time", he scoffed humourlessly, "Not that anybody wanted a fuckin' mess like me. But, maybe that's why I sort of, fell hard for her. She's been the only constant in my life for the past 5 years."

Bob wiped his tears with his sleeves, nose tinged red and eyes swollen.

"That's why I was also being an asshole to...to Joaquin. The whole 'I know her longer than he does' shit. Even though, as Bucky said, I don't know her, technically", he croaked shamefully, red dusting his cheeks.

Yelena sniffled and Bucky opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to take in all of this.

It was a lot. He's getting too old for a love triangle in his own family. And his heart also breaks for Bob. If you and Joaquin weren't, quite literally, each other's soulmates, then maybe it would've worked out. You'd get along with Bob just fine.

But that wasn't the case, and now there were two separate teams as well, so Bucky wasn't sure how to handle this without further breaking Bob's heart.

Because Bucky was sure that Joaquin, being as stubborn and steadfast he was, was absolutely not going to let Bob try anything. Let alone talk to you. Especially not after the intense show down between the two men. Bucky almost groaned at the fact that this was just going to worsen the situation between the teams even more.

Letting out a big sigh, he sat down in front of Bob, elbows braced against his knees as he carefully chose his words.

"Look, Bob...I understand. You knowingly or unknowingly imprinted on her, and you were so used to being the only one who listened to her, that you feel a little disoriented now that your bubble is burst. I get that. But...", he sighed again, "Kid, it's just, not gonna be easy, I'm not gonna lie to you. At least, not as peacefully as you're hoping for it to go. Joaquin is...he's very protective of her and vice versa. And they're literally made for each other."

Bob clenched his jaw harder, the lump in his throat making it harder to swallow. Why was Bucky cutting a deeper wound into his already broken heart?

"So, whatever you do, don't go around picking a fight with him unnecessarily. We're already in a sensitive situation, yeah?", Bucky softly added, trying to be as gentle as he could be.

Bob's vision blurred with tears before he nodded tersely, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes and push back his curls.

"Bob", Yelena's scratchy voice brought his attention back to her. He looked up at her hesitantly. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"We know this will be difficult for you. Maybe in ways that is beyond our understanding. But, please, for your sake, talk to me or Bucky next time. Or...maybe we can start your therapy sessions soon? If that's okay with you?", she offered carefully, eyes trained on his every move.

Bob bit his lip, mulling over her words. Therapy didn't sound that bad, honestly. At least, he'd use all the free time to work on himself instead of withering away.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. I-I can go to therapy", he admitted, nodding in agreement.

Yelena let out a sigh of relief and Bucky gave him a rare, kind smile, one that Bob had only ever seen on the super soldier's face when he was with you.

The thought almost made him smile. You had a way around making people comfortable.

"I'll talk to my therapist. She might recommend someone fit for you. You can take a trial session and the rest is your decision. That okay?", Bucky suggested.

"Yes. That's okay. Thanks, guys", Bob finally gave them a weak smile, cheeks glistening with tear tracks under the yellow light of the lamp.

Maybe, Bob could get over this. And he prayed he wouldn't see you anytime sooner, either.

-

Minutes after he'd finished his meal, Valentina had called for an emergency meeting. At 11 pm.

Why? Because that attention seeker had decided that she wanted to throw a Gala for the team. 'For the team' was just an excuse, she just wanted to show off. Show off her wealth, show off her so called team and her nonexistent efforts and how she's the new 'saviour' of the American people.

It was all a load of crap, honestly.

But she wanted to host a Gala and she was going to host it by the end of this week. And guess whom she wanted needed to attend this gala?

Sam Wilson. And you.

"We're not doing this", Bucky seethed, fists clenched tightly in anger. He still hadn't talked to Sam, like he'd promised you. And now, Valentina wanted to do this?

He couldn't imagine how betrayed Sam would feel, if he found out that Bucky had purposefully kept information from him. As if he wasn't on thin fucking ice already.

Valentina smirked, "Listen up, Barnes. I don't remember asking for your permission. It's my money. My team. I can do whatever the hell I want to."

Bucky clenched his jaw, the rest of the team glared at Valentina, except Bob, who had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Anyways, there's gonna be investors, shareholders, some of the richest people in attendance, including a real Captain America and our resident billionaire Stark heir. You guys better behave and keep up my reputation, hm?", she announced absently while flicking through her Ipad, Mel looking at her in confusion.

John scowled at the Captain America jab, Alexei's eyes kept jumping between Bucky's tensed body and Valentina's unbothered one like he was at a tennis match, Ava and Yelena exchanged glances before Yelena looked at Bob, who was restlessly moving around in his seat, itching to correct Valentina on her comment on you.

Yelena grabbed his arm firmly, tersely shaking her head 'no'. Bob bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet.

"And oh, don't you dare invite them on my behalf, Bucky. We will be drafting a sweet and sophisticated invite, okay?", she gave him a sickly sweet smile. Bucky sneered.

"I'm not listenin' to-"

"You want me to release that footage from 10 years ago? Where you almost killed your best friend, who was also Captain America, on that helicarrier?", she narrowed her eyes.

Bucky froze, his vibranium arm whirring from how tightly he was clenching his fists, a mist covering his eyes.

Valentina smiled in victory.

"That's what I thought. Anyways! We'll keep you updated on the group chat. You'll get a phone soon, Robert, do stay active on the chat. Don't miss any texts and we'll have stylists over to give you all a makeover. I don't trust you all to turn up decently", she grimaced.

John yawned while Alexei was already napping on the desk, burly body leaned over his arms entirely, snores leaving his mouth. Valentina rolled her eyes at this.

"Yeah, fine, Jesus. You're dismissed", she waved them off, walking out of the room with Mel in tow.

"It would take one swipe. That's all. Then she'll be gone", Ava casually mentioned.

"Count me in on that. Anyways, I'm heading to bed. I don't have the energy for this", John announced before yawning loudly, trudging away to his room.

Bucky, Yelena and Bob didn't move from their spots, at all. A strange silence and tension seizing their body as they exchanged worrying looks.

Ava noticed, quirking an eyebrow, "What's going on with the three of you?"

Bucky cleared his throat, "Nothin'. Just...fed up with her", he referred to Valentina.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't really like social interactions, so", Bob laughed nervously.

Yelena simply hummed in thought. Ava narrowed her eyes in doubt.

"Uh- I'm going to sleep. Yep. I'm really tired. Yelena, you should wake up Alexei", Bucky coughed, quickly making his way outside, Bob following closely, while Yelena shook Alexei awake and walked out of the room hastily, leaving behind a perplexed Ava, who was not going to live peacefully until she finds out what's up with these three.

So, basically, Bob was not getting over this anytime soon.

Because you would definitely attend the event. And you'd be with The Captain America this time. Just the thought of being around you, dressed in fancy clothes, with the Cap next to you, was enough to make him hyperventilate.

All he could do was pray for a miracle. And that he didn't have one of his extremely high episodes.

But, god, he'd lying if he said that he wasn't excited to see you again.

-

It was the weekend, Sam had surprisingly decided to take a day off, you and Joaquin joining him for lunch at a staple restaurant, catching up with the recruitment process and other life updates over some pasta and drinks.

Sam, was currently telling you all about Riri Williams and her suits, how she'd worked under Princess Shuri and how she just needed some exposure to update her suit.

"I'd love to meet her", you admitted while taking a sip of your cola. The fact that she had benefitted from your dad's grant at MIT and hearing about her potential and intelligence was enough to encourage you to meet her.

Sam gave you a smile, exchanging a look with Joaquin, who was sitting on your right with his shoulder nudging you every now and then.

"I knew you'd say that. Great, I'll ask her to-", he cut himself off as your phones went off at the same time with a text notification.

Furrowing your brows, you looked down at your screen, an unknown number flashed on top of the chat bubble. Joaquin spared a glance at you phone before leaning over to look at Sam's.

"Wait. Is that the same number?", he murmured, cross checking once more.

Frowning, you opened the message and read it out loud for the two of them:

Valentina Allegra De Fontaine and OXE Group invites you for a Gala night to celebrate the New Avengers! Saturday, 7:00 pm, The Watchtower, Manhattan, New York Dress code: Formal PS: Please do not carry any suits or weapons. Invitation limited to you and Sam, exclusively. - Mel Vishwanathan, Secretary to Miss De Fontaine.

"Holy shit", Joaquin cursed.

"Did you get the same text?", you foolishly asked Sam. Sam quickly opened the message and sighed.

"Yep. Copy and paste."

You scoffed, "Knew this was gonna happen. She's too smart for her own good", fiddling with your phone for a moment, furiously typing away.

"How do we know this isn't a trap?", Joaquin asked in curiosity.

You turned your phone to show it to him, "Because it's up on LinkedIn. This is basically an investment and sponsorship event, alright."

Joaquin read the post, which had over 130k likes already, his eyebrows raised in surprise before he passed it to Sam, who whistled lowly.

"Damn. Look at all these people glazin' her up. There's gonna be media and shit too, it'll be a pain in the ass. We'll never get to talk to any of 'em", he shook his head.

You pursed your lips in thought, "Maybe. Not if we separate, though. You take three, I'll take three", you continued before he cut you off, "And you're taking Bucky. I don't care how, but the two of you are talking. That's it."

Sam narrowed his eyes, "You bossin' me around, Stark?"

"That's right, Wilson. This is the only way how a Stark and Captain America team up can work out, remember?", you teased him.

The two of you stared each other down before erupting in giggles.

"Alright, alright, I will. But the moment he's being immature, I'm callin' you in", he proposes.

"I got you, I promise. But he loves you too much to brood for longer, Sammy", you gave him a knowing smile. Sam coughed to hide his.

Next to you, Joaquin was way too quiet. Silently observing the entire conversation with a distant look in his eyes. You quieted down, nudging him to get his attention.

"You good, babe?", your voice took on a soft lilt that it did, whenever you talked to Joaquin. Sam watched him closely.

"Yeah. Just, I'm not invited", Joaquin muttered with thinly veiled irritation, his brows creased, brown eyes looking like pitiful pools of honey as he looked at you knowingly.

You paused, a flash clip of the events that transpired at the Tower playing in your mind, causing you to close your eyes in realisation.

Of course he was apprehensive about this. This meant you'd be around Bob again, and you'd be alone this time, since Sam would be busy with the task at hand.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "I didn't know you wanted to attend Valentina's gala so bad, Joaquin", he joked lightly. He observed your tensed body and Joaquin's clenched jaw, neither of you responding to his joke and that's when he knew there was more to it.

"Okay, one of you better tell me what's goin' on? I feel like I missed a few chapters?", he asked with narrowed eyes.

You glanced at Joaquin, who was still brooding, before letting out a sigh, "Well. Y'know, the Bob guy in their team?"

Sam furrowed his brows in confusion, "Blackout guy? Yeah, Why?"

Joaquin let out a humourless chuckle, "Yeah, he has a damn crush on my girlfriend. That's what happened."

"Joaquin..", you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, and, he was trying to challenge me or some shit, bro. His eyes were all golden and stuff, as if I was being a hindrance for touching my girlfriend, like, have some class, Jesus", he seethed, getting worked up again.

"And you know what, Sam? He was lookin' at her like I do. Fuckin' stars in his eyes and shit. I can't-"

"Okay, okay. Relax, bird boy. Drink some water", Sam cut him off, an amused smile on his face.

Joaquin almost pouted, leaning back into the seat like a grumpy toddler. You pursed your lips. This was going to be really difficult.

"Guys, c'mon, it can't be that serious. We're not in high school! It's just stupid crush, I bet. And Joaquin, you can stop pouting, it's not exactly her fault that she's a star!", Sam laughed, trying to reason with him. You gave a wary smile at his joke before turning serious again.

"I truly hope it's just a crush. It's going to be a mess to deal with, otherwise..."

Sam gave you a close lipped smile, "Nothing's gonna happen. We'll figure somethin' out if it escalates, yeah?"

"Not before I handle him myself", Joaquin grumbled his breath.

Your eyes widened and you whipped your head around, "Jay, what the hell?"

Sam scoffed, "Easy, tiger. No need to go guns ablazin'. Unless you want another timeout", he warned Joaquin, arms folded across his chest, like a father scolding his son.

That sobered him up. Joaquin sat up straight, glancing at you and Sam briefly, feet scuffing against the floor in embarassment.

"Okay. I'm sorry", he murmured in shame, turning to the side to press a kiss to your shoulder, a soft "'M sorry, baby", spoken into the fabric of your shirt.

You softened up, rubbing a hand down his back. A smile tugged at Sam's lips.

"We'll put you in our comms so that you don't freak out, okay?", Sam suggested. Joaquin nodded in agreement, a hand coming up to rest on your thigh, free hand absently twirling the pasta around his fork.

"Alright, we should inform the team as well. And...maybe I'll call Buck. Let him know beforehand about our plan. That okay?", he asked you.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll gather some discreet comms that'll stay concealed", you agreed.

"Good", he lowered his voice before continuing, "Also, Shulkie has suggested not to tell them about the entire case just yet. Just to request them to testify. If they ask anything further, we've to ask them to meet personally."

Shulkie was a code name for Jennifer Walters in public, you'd decided.

"Yep, got it, Cap", you affirmed.

"Alright, I need to bounce. I have a meeting with Leila. You guys will be okay?", he glanced at Joaquin, before looking at you knowingly.

Joaquin and you gave him close lipped smiles, Sam taking his leave before clearing the tab. He always treated you two like you were kids on a summer vacation.

You stared at Joaquin's sulking face, hyperfocused on his plate. He did look cute when he was jealous.

"Stop lookin' at me", he grumbled, the natural light filtering through the window making his skin glow, his curls were loose today, falling in ringlets on his forehead and his arms flexed in that gray t shirt he was wearing.

Although his pouting made him look like a chipmunk who had stuffed too many nuts into his cheeks. The thought made you giggle. His nose scrunched up in embarassment.

"Whaaaat, babe, stop", he whined, closing his eyes.

You wordlessly shifted closer, a hand cradling his chin, lips pressed to his cheek lovingly and free arm slinked around his neck.

"You're too cute when you're jealous", you mumbled into his skin and he finally hugged you back, leaning his head into your touch.

He hummed, "I love you, you know that right?", his lips moved against your hair as he spoke.

"Yeah. I know", you reassured, rubbing his shoulder gently, a frown tugging at your lips as you tried your best to hide the sense of dread filling your stomach at the thought of going to the Tower again.

-

Part 4

AN: please let me know if it's still making sense and like and reblog!❤️

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[slut4kwon]

if you were anyone else

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re his best friend’s little sister. it was never supposed to mean anything, but now he can’t forget the way she looked at him like it did. and that’s the problem. because wanting her was already a mistake, but letting her go might be worse.

warnings: 18+, implied sexual content, swearing, angst, secret relationship, brother’s best friend trope, emotionally repressed men™, jealousy, regret, unresolved feelings, possessive behavior, emotionally charged spirals, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, slight praise kink, yearning so intense it physically hurts.

authors note: this is my first time posting on here, so… go easy on me. or don’t. i probably won’t sleep either way. also this is long as fuck i am so sorry. if you read it, thank you. if you liked it, even better. if you’re here just for the angst, me too.

you should’ve known it would get messy the first time he kissed you.

it wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t slow.

it happened behind the wardrobe rack in one of the yg dressing rooms, thirty minutes before a run-through while the crew scrambled to fix a lighting issue.

you were in a sports bra and sweatpants, makeup half-finished, second-day curls falling effortlessly down your back.

he was in his usual all-black rehearsal outfit, a silver chain at his collarbone, and something unreadable behind his eyes.

“you’re not supposed to look at me like that,” he muttered, jaw tense, gaze fixed on yours.

you crossed your arms. “i’m not looking at you like anything.”

he stepped in closer. “you keep doing those little moves. the ones you know drive me fucking crazy.”

“you mean the choreography?” you shot back, lifting a brow. “i’m literally just doing my job.”

“that thing in the second chorus,” he said, his voice lower now. “when you drop low and bite your lip. you do that for me. don’t lie, beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath caught when he moved again. closer, slower, deliberate.

“you want me to lose it, don’t you?”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t.

because the way he looked at you was hungry. frustrated. like he’d been holding something back for far too long. it lit something dangerous inside you.

before you could even speak, his mouth was on yours.

hot. desperate. possessive.

your back hit the wall. his hands gripped your waist.

your fingers curled into his shirt like it was an instinct.

his tongue, his hands, the way he groaned when you tugged his hair. everything about it was messy.

and it didn’t stop there.

the backstage hookups became a pattern. between rehearsals. after fittings. corners of the studio with fogged mirrors and locked doors.

always hidden. always rushed. always too much but somehow never enough.

you gave him your first time on the studio couch, the same one you always collapsed on after long nights.

not out of romance, but something heavier. needier.

your legs wrapped around his waist. your fingers in his hair like you were clinging to gravity.

and he let you.

let you take. let you tremble.

let you come undone in his lap while his mouth traced your collarbone like a promise he’d never speak out loud.

no one knew about this.

not the stylists. not the other dancers. not even his own bandmates.

and especially not seunghyun.

your older brother would’ve lost his mind. maybe even burned the whole building down if he ever found out.

because of course, out of all the people in the world, it had to be him.

kwon jiyong.

his best friend. his closest friend.

the one person who had no business even looking at you like that; let alone touching you, wanting you, needing you.

and yet somehow, he was always there.

for months, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

that the way he touched you like he needed you — like breathing wasn’t enough unless you were under him, around him, full of him — was just part of the act.

that the way he lingered after, brushing hair from your face like it mattered, wasn’t real either.

you told yourself you could handle it.

that you were strong enough to keep it casual. quiet. hidden.

but it got harder to lie every time he pulled you in and didn’t let go.

every time he stayed a little longer.

every time he looked at you like maybe, just maybe, you were more than a secret.

still, you never asked for more. how could you?

he was your brother’s best friend. this was never supposed to happen.

but it did.

over and over again. like a bad habit neither of you could quit.

you didn’t plan to fall for him. didn’t mean to hope he’d stay the night, or kiss you like it meant something.

but you did. god, of course you did.

i mean, how could you not?

he touched you like you were fragile, but fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him come undone.

he zipped up your jacket for you like it was just an excuse to touch you again.

he continuously found your eyes across any room like they were the only ones that existed.

for a while, you let yourself believe he felt it too.

until about a month ago, when he decided that pretending it meant nothing became easier than admitting it ever meant anything at all.

it happened in your dressing room. you’d just touched up your lip gloss, and casually asked him if he was coming over that night.

same routine. same rhythm.

he didn’t answer right away though. he just stood there, still and silent.

you turned, confused, watching the way his jaw clenched and how he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“jiyong?” you spoke up quietly.

he finally looked at you.

and you knew. before he even opened his mouth, you felt it.

“we can’t keep doing this.”

your stomach still dropped. “what?”

“this… whatever it is… it needs to stop.”

“don’t do that. don’t act like this wasn’t real.”

his jaw tightened as he looked away. “it was a mistake.”

“say it and mean it,” you snapped.

he didn’t hesitate this time. “it was a mistake.”

your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, but don’t stand there and pretend that i didn’t mean a damn thing to you.”

“y/n—” he started, but you cut him off.

“fuck you, jiyong.”

he met your eyes again, his throat tight.

almost like he wanted to say something else. like it was stuck somewhere between his ribs and his pride.

but he didn’t answer. he just let the silence grow between you.

let it choke everything that hadn’t been said. let it mean more than the truth would’ve.

“i’m sorry.” he finally said.

not a reason. not an explanation.

just that. two words. and then he walked out.

no goodbye. no chance to respond. no space to fall apart.

just the door clicking shut behind him like none of it had ever meant anything. like you had never meant anything.

the worst part wasn’t even the way it ended.

it was how nothing else did.

rehearsals still ran long. the mirrors still fogged with sweat. the playlist still cycled through the same tracks you used to hum when you thought no one could hear you.

he was always there. of course he was.

not in the way that mattered though. not in the way you needed. just in the way that somehow made it worse.

that same smirk. same swagger. same easy charm that made everyone else feel like nothing had changed.

like he hadn’t ruined you with nothing but his mouth and a handful of whispered promises he never intended to keep.

he still showed up to rehearsals like none of it ever happened.

he still carried his favourite hoodie. the one he never left home without.

everyone thought it was a comfort thing; a habit, maybe. something worn-in and familiar. assumed he just loved it.

and maybe he did. but it wasn't because it was warm, or soft, or broken in just right.

it was because it was yours.

he never carried it for himself. he carried it for you.

you never brought your own.

you hated feeling cold, and hated asking for help even more.

but with jiyong, you never had to ask. he paid attention to the way you’d rub slow circles into your arm, tuck your hands under your thighs, sometimes even press your tongue to the roof of your mouth just to stay quiet.

tiny things. things no one else could ever pick up on.

and yet somehow, he always did.

you never had to ask. he’d just offer it. sometimes with just a glance, sometimes with a soft, “here.”

and if you ever hesitated, he’d pull it over your head himself. like he was allowed to. like it meant something.

the other boys never questioned it. of course they didn’t. they would’ve done the same. they had before, on the rare days jiyong wasn’t around. but when he was, they never got the chance.

but now, he wears it again like it doesn't hold your scent. your shape. every version of you he ever pulled close. like it's just a hoodie.

however, this didn't stop you from showing up to rehearsals every day too.

because that’s what professionals do, right?

they show up, even when it hurts.

even when the person they can’t stop dreaming about is stretching ten feet away.

still laughing with everyone like he wasn’t one secret away from getting his jaw broken by your older brother.

there was no wreckage. no huge fall-out. just absence.

no one knew what had been taken because nothing, on the surface, was missing.

but you felt it. in every glance he didn’t give you. every touch that didn’t happen, but almost did.

and you were angry.

angry that he ended it without warning. angry that he made that decision for the both of you. angry that he could walk away without looking back.

you were angry at yourself for still caring.

you hated that your eyes searched for him when you entered the room. that your skin remembered him better than your brain wanted it to. how some part of you still wished he’d turn around and take it all back.

but he never did. not once.

rehearsal had run longer than usual today. the sun had dipped somewhere behind the city skyline without you noticing. shadows were now stretching across the floor as the studio emptied, one by one.

you stayed behind, stretching in silence, letting the burn in your muscles distract from the burn in your chest.

you suddenly heard your brother’s loud voice, which snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. “dinner. let’s go.”

you didn’t even blink. still stretched out on the floor, one leg bent and arms braced behind you. “pass.”

seunghyun frowned. “you didn’t even ask where.”

“don’t need to,” you said coolly. “you’re painfully predictable.”

daesung raised a brow. “she’s got you there.”

“actually, i’m switching it up tonight,” seunghyun insisted. “new place. no kimchi stew.”

you finally looked up, unimpressed. “who’s paying you to try their new restaurant?”

he crossed his arms. “no one. i just think you need some real food in you. something with protein. maybe even a vegetable.”

“tempting,” you said, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “but i can’t. i’ve got plans.”

“plans?” seunghyun’s voice cracked like he’d just heard you say you were moving out and never coming back.

you grabbed your water. “yep.”

“what kind of plans?”

“the kind that don’t include you,” you said, smiling sweetly.

youngbae’s head popped up from behind his duffel. “wait. are we talking… plans plans?”

you just sipped your water like it was nothing, which, naturally, made it something.

daesung narrowed his eyes. “that look. that’s a ‘plans with a boy’ look if i’ve ever seen one.”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. it was more entertaining to watch them spiral on their own.

youngbae gasped. “you’re going on a date.”

“jesus christ,” seunghyun muttered. “no you’re not.”

“i didn’t say that,” you replied, smoothing your hair down.

“but you didn’t not say it.”

you gave the smallest shrug, which, unfortunately, said everything, once again.

youngbae gasped like he’d been betrayed. “you’re seeing someone? since when?”

“relax,” you said, throwing your towel over your shoulder. “you’re acting like i announced an engagement.”

“it’s hard to relax when you’re acting suspiciously vague,” daesung countered.

“which means it’s serious,” youngbae added while nodding. “you’re protecting him.”

you raised a brow. “or i’m protecting you idiots from a full-blown meltdown.”

seunghyun squinted. “who is it?”

“none of your business.”

“it is absolutely my business if some dude is out here making googly eyes at my baby sister behind my back!”

“googly eyes?” you echoed, half-laughing. “what are we, twelve?”

“i’m being serious, y/n.”

“i can tell, oppa. very intimidating.”

“is it someone we know?” daesung asked. “because i feel like it’s someone we know.”

“you don’t know him.” you replied, which wasn’t technically a lie.

there was no him. but they didn’t need to know that.

especially not the one sitting on the bench near the mirror, completely silent.

jiyong hadn’t said a word. hadn’t even moved.

just sat there with his towel around his neck, and his eyes on the floor.

but you saw the tension in his hands. the way his jaw was set so tightly, it looked like it hurt.

and it gave you just enough fuel to keep going.

seunghyun was still spiraling. “i don’t like this. what if he’s some asshole? what if he’s just trying to—”

“then i’ll deal with it,” you replied calmly. “i’m perfectly capable of throwing hands.”

“still don’t like it.”

“you’re not supposed to, oppa.”

and that’s when jiyong spoke. low. dismissive. deadly.

“just let her go.”

everyone turned.

seunghyun blinked. “huh?”

“if she’s got plans, she’s got plans,” jiyong said. not looking at you. not looking at anyone. “it’s not our business.”

“oh, wow,” daesung muttered. “traitor.”

“you’re not even gonna try to talk her out of it?” seunghyun asked, almost sounding dumbfounded.

“she’s allowed to do whatever she wants,” jiyong replied, tossing the towel aside like the whole conversation bored him. “if it’s a date, then…let her have fun.”

you said nothing. you just stared at him.

and after a long second, he finally looked up, just for a heartbeat. just long enough to meet your eyes.

and there it was. buried under all of it; jealousy. regret. hurt.

only things that you could see.

the things he couldn’t say. the ones you never needed him to.

so you smiled, small and sweet.

“thanks for your support, jiji.” you said sweetly, using the nickname you rarely used for him anymore.

he didn’t answer, but you didn’t wait for one either.

you grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder.

“anyways, don’t wait up!” you shouted, turning and blowing a kiss towards the boys as you walked towards the door.

youngbae clutched his chest. “she’s so going to make out with him.”

“i’m gonna vomit,” seunghyun muttered.

you walked out giggling without looking back.

jiong didn’t move. didn’t even blink. just stared at the door like it might swing back open and undo all of it.

it didn’t.

he noticed the tremble in your hands as you reached for your bag. it was faint, almost invisible. the kind of shake that came when your body had given too much.

he always noticed.

it was a curse. a reflex. a silent devotion to you that he never meant to make a habit.

you were clearly overstimulated, vibrating underneath your skin. and no one else seemed to care.

but he did. he always did.

the boys were still talking. still laughing, but their voices echoed as if they were underwater.

daesung was teasing seunghyun about running a background check. youngbae was already trying to guess the date’s name. one of them joked about texting you the restaurant address ‘in case lover boy stands you up.’

jiyong didn’t laugh. he couldn’t.

because the silence left in your absence was louder than anything. and beneath it, something ugly twisted in his chest.

he knew you weren’t dressed for a date. your hair was wild, your face was bare, still glowing with sweat and adrenaline.

you didn’t look like someone trying to impress a man, not that you needed to. you just looked like you. the version jiyong had memorized in the low light of his apartment, curled into his sheets, still trembling from his mouth on your skin.

and somehow, that made it worse.

because what if this new guy didn’t care enough to notice the small things jiyong had?

what if he didn’t realize how you go quiet when you’re overwhelmed, not out of moodiness, but because your brain shuts down under too much noise?

what if he didn’t know how sometimes you can’t ask for help, because you don’t even know what you need?

what about that you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re anxious? or that you tap your thumb against your middle finger three times when you’re trying not to cry?

would he know that you hated the sound of ticking clocks? that certain words made your skin crawl? that sometimes, dancing was the only thing that kept your thoughts from devouring you whole?

jiyong did. he knew all of it.

he knew how to sit behind you on the studio floor when everything got to be too much; legs stretched out on either side of you, chest pressed against your back.

he knew not to ask what was wrong. he knew that you didn’t always know, and that asking only made it worse.

just to let you press your ear over his heart and listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat until your lungs remembered how to breathe properly on their own again.

he knew the hoodie he always carried for you was your lifeline when you needed comfort. which songs made you cry even if you didn’t quite know why.

he knew you couldn’t sit in the backseat of a car because it always made you nauseous. which corners of your body held tension so tightly, you didn’t even realize they hurt until he pressed his fingers there.

he learned you like a prayer. a warning. a song that never stopped playing in the back of his head.

and now, someone else might get to touch you. might get to pretend they know you. run their hands down a body they hadn’t earned. kiss a mouth that didn’t belong to them.

and jiyong fucking hated that.

because yeah, it started as just sex.

reckless. rushed. hidden in between rehearsals and outfit changes. in cars, stairwells and hotel rooms too quiet for what the two of you were doing.

but it stopped being just sex a long time ago.

he didn’t know when exactly it shifted. maybe it was the first night you told him not to ask, but to just take. when you grabbed his wrist and pulled it to your throat. when you told him to ruin you.

or maybe it was the one night he didn’t.

the night he slowed down.

held your jaw in both hands like you were made of glass and kissed you like he had something to lose.

told you how fucking perfect you were. how you take him so well. how you were made for him.

you came apart for him like you believed it. like you needed it.

surely that’s when he realized it wasn’t just sex. at least, not anymore.

because you didn’t just let him have your body, you gave it to him. not with words. not directly.

in the way you trembled under his touch. in the way you arched into his hands. in the way you moaned his name like it meant something.

and fuck, it did. it meant everything.

he memorized you. not just the way your thighs shook when you were close or the spot beneath your ribs that made you gasp when he kissed it for the first time.

he knew your body better than he knew his own.

he memorized the curve of your spine. the pitch of your moans. the shape of your mouth when you were too fucked-out to speak.

he knew exactly where to touch to make you fall apart, but also exactly how to hold you when you couldn’t put yourself back together.

he hated himself for it.

for needing you. for learning you. for turning every sound you made into a song he couldn’t stop humming in his own head.

because the more he gave, the more he wanted. and the more he wanted, the more it hurt.

he told himself that ending it was the right call, and maybe it was.

maybe it was smart. you were seunghyun’s little sister, after all. this was doomed from the moment it started.

but god, he missed you.

you were the only one he ever let see him for who he really was, and now you were gone. and he has no one else to blame for that but himself.

his thumb pressed into the palm of his opposite hand; hard. a grounding technique, one that you taught him. one that never worked unless it was your voice talking him through it.

he barely felt the pain.

he just sat there, spine tense, gaze still locked on the scuffed floor where you’d been standing just a few moments ago.

the room still buzzed with conversation. low laughter, the rustle of jackets, someone still talking about dinner plans.

but it all felt far away. almost like he was watching it through a sheet of glass that was thick and smudged with fingerprints.

he didn’t hear what they said. he didn’t care either.

because all he could think about was the look on your face before you walked out.

not happy. not angry. not sad either.

he honestly wasn’t quite sure, and that scared him a little.

he remembers how you used to look at him. like you saw through everything; the ego, the performance, the chaos.

that was because you did, and yet, you still chose him.

every. single. time.

but now, you didn’t even look back.

“hyung?” daesung said cautiously, tone lighter than his expression. “you good?”

jiyong blinked like he was waking up from a dream. “what?”

“you’ve been kinda weird lately,” youngbae said from behind him. “and not just today either.”

“yeah,” daesung added. “like the last few weeks.”

jiyong exhaled through his nose, forcing a shrug. “just tired.”

seunghyun looked up from where he was zipping his bag. “ji.”

jiyong flinched like his name stung.

“talk to us,” seunghyun said, voice low, less like a demand and more like a plea. “we’ve been worried. you don’t laugh the same anymore. you barely show up.”

“i’m fine,” he said, sharper this time. like if he said it hard enough, they’d believe it.

“we’re not trying to push,” youngbae said gently. “we just miss you, man.”

jiyong’s throat was tight. he couldn’t look any of them in the eye.

“i’ll see you guys later,” he spoke suddenly, already halfway to the door.

“what?” daesung called after him. “you’re not coming to eat?”

“not hungry.”

seunghyun took a step forward. “jiyong—wait.”

but the door was already closing behind him.

and just like that, he was gone. his feet moved without thinking.

down the hallway, out of the building, and into the night.

but on the inside, he was somewhere else entirely.

back in the dressing room. back in your bed.

back in that goddamn moment where you looked up at him like you were his, even though you both knew you weren’t.

he can still feel it.

the weight of your body curled under his. your nails in his skin. his name on your tongue.

the breath you let out when he called you sweetheart like it meant something.

the quietness afterwards that felt like a promise, even though neither of you ever made one.

it should’ve faded by now.

but it hasn’t. it’s still there.

in the way his chest tightens when someone says your name.

in the way his hands curl into fists when he pictures you laughing with someone else.

in the way the silence feels heavier when you’re not around to fill it.

and now, he has to act like it didn’t happen. like it didn’t mean anything. like you didn’t mean everything.

he hates himself for how much he still cares.

hates that he let it get this far. that he let you in. that he let it mean something.

but more than anything, he hates that he can’t stop hoping it meant something to you, too.

because no matter how far he lets you go, he will always believe that no one else will ever have you in the way that he did.

and maybe that makes him selfish.

but it also makes him right.

[charmnyu]

 ᘏᘏ are you cheating on me?! ⤷ luke c, leo v, percy j, nico d, will s.

cw: all the credit goes to my friend bcuz i was talking to her and she was like “are u cheating on me..?” “no???” “then whose isaiah 40:31 on your wrist..? 💔” gn reader except in will and nico cuz dem boys is GAE and yearners😛✌🏼 mentions of injuries in will’s + user being an ares kid and the reader is a chill guy yey i also wanted to add jason but i was so tired so blame donald trump / lace divider by @ cursed - carmine !!

⤷ l. castellan

“i love you so much, baby, i—“ luke lets out a blood curdling gasp when ue stops to look down at your arm for one second. his world came crashing down just by one simple glance. “babe.” he puts a hand over his mouth. “what?” you’re already shaken up from his random yet dramatic gasp and you just want to relax. “you’re cheating on me.” he states, burying his face in his hands in pure despair. “whose john 7:13 on your wrist.” you genuinely want to cry at his response. “dude. you’ve never read The Bible before? and i thought it was cool, so i bought it,” you shrug at him nonchalantly, going back to scrolling on your phone. “well, you have another man’s name on your wrist, so that basically counts.” “shut up, loser.” and it makes him swoon yet again.

⤷ percy j.

“c’mon, at least come in the water with me! it’s so hot now days, i don’t understand how you stay cooped in your cabin all day.�� percy flashes you a smile, tugging at your wrist and beckoning you to come with him. and that’s when his smile falters. he looks down at your arm and looks back at you. “love.” he says in deadpanned tone. “your cheating on me? with luke? seriously?” his hand is taken off yours and he looks visibly stressed. “what? i’m not??” you try to defend yourself, but percy cuts you off. “then why is why luke 22:14 on your wrist.” “oh my gods percy, c’monn, it’s just a bracelet— plus it’s a book in The Bible— loosen up.” you push him playfully in the shoulder, and his fake facade of annoyance falters, earning you a charmingly beautiful smile.

⤷ nico d.

you and nico are comfortably snuggled up against eachother, his black hair tickling your chin as you try and focus on the movie you two are watching. your hand reaches up to grab popcorn, and that’s when he flips.

“what the hades— who is faith?” he instinctively grabs your wrist, his grip deathly tight. “huh?” you look at your wrist and you can’t help but laugh in his face. “nico. it’s just a bracelet! it just reminds me to have faith everyday.” you explain, hoping to clear the rather awkward tension. “so you’re seeing faith everyday?” nico says in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “what—?! no! it’s just means to have hope and courage. and faith is a girl’s name. does it look like i talk to girls?” you make a hand gesture signaling the situation you two are in currently. “oh…” nico’s flushes in embarrassment, and he lets go off your wrist and leans up (rather awkwardly) with you. “sorry.” he mumbles out just barely, and places a warm kiss to your forehead.

⤷ will s.

after fighting hard with another kid because they tried to steal your flag in capture the flag, will let out a deep, unsatisfied sigh and led you back to the infirmary. you ares kids are too much, too aggressive and too violent. but he gives you extra special treatment since your his boyfriend.

he’s in the middle of wrapping your arm in bandage wrap until he sees the beaded bracelet on your wrist: hope. whose hope? are you secretly cheating him? he’s overthinking so much that he feels the tears starting to come in.

he finishes wrapping your and gives you a melancholy, “goodbye”. he’s hesitant at first, but when he sees you near the door, he forces himself to muster the courage up to tell you.

“y/n, are you… happy with me? do you want to be in a relationship with me?” he mumbles out, fidgeting with his fingers as he struggles to look you in the eyes. “yeah. why?” you, without hesitation, answer his question, rubbing at your bandaged arm. “then whose’s hope? the name on your bracelet.” he’s so precious, it’s going to make you die one of these days. “will—“ you barely managed to say his name before dying of laughter. “oh my gods. will— hope isn’t anybody’s name— jus’ something to remind me to have. also something you keep tellin’ me to carry with me whenever i’m not in the mood these days.” you slap a hand over your face and start cackling like a maniac.

“oh my goodness— are you serious?!” will finally stops fidgeting with his fingers and places a hand on his forehead and finally releases the breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. “i hate you! get out—!” he pushes you out of the apollo cabin while you’re being forced out, still dying of laughter.

⤷ leo v.

leo tries his best not to crash out the hades out when he (not only) sees another guy’s name on your bracelet and the same guy behind you, requesting for a weapon to be made. he wants to snap, but he holds it together (just barely.)

“mi amor— who’s that guy? why’s his name on that bracelet of yours? me estás engañando? (are you cheating on me?) at this point, leo is rambling incorhernt sentences before you place a hand on his arm. “that’s my little brother’s name. he got me that bracelet for his birthday since i’ve practically raised him.” “oh.” leo wipes the sweat of his forehead with the back of his hand, let out a sigh of relief. “sorry— he just doesn’t look related to you. lo siento mi amor.” (i’m sorry my love.)

“but i’d still choose my brother over you. over any day of the week.” “what—?! hablas en serio—?!” (are you serious?!)

🎾 ; 6/25 : now i’m proud of this and thanks to my #1 pum pum queen ily

[bombdottcom]

pushin' it down and praying

summery: after a bad argument in which you mentioned leaving him, rafe takes you for a late night drive to make it up to you.

contents: szn1!rafe ꪆ୧ mentions of an argument ꪆ୧ implied toxic relationship (a given tbh) ꪆ୧ dramatic smut

wrd ct: 1.3k

jami speaks: is this insane for a debut fic??😭 (note i wrote this in the middle of the night and was too nervous to pre-read so sorry if it’s wack)

now playing. . .pushing it down and praying, lizzy mcalpine

If someone held you at gunpoint and told you to describe rafe, the only word that would come to mind is impalpable. but of course there wasn’t just one word to describe him, maybe a million or maybe none but most definitely not just one. He's one of a kind. Impossible to resist, beautiful, intelligent, and —

“You’re so annoying.” Your head limply rests against the passenger window, as lunar light shines through it and bathes you and him. Despite your current vexation towards him, you can’t deny how good he looks like this…gold flaxen hair unkempt, nimble fingers unsure of the pressure they’d like to use to grip the wheel. 

Rafe lets out a sound that’s half scoff and half chuckle — but fully audacious just as his next words will be. His fingers adjust on the steering wheel, tense and then relax. You’re the one who said you were going to leave him over some stupid comment he made, but —“I’m annoying?”

It had been too long of a night. Too much arguing and not enough making up. He was stressed and you knew it, you were lonely and he knew it. So when you begged to spend time with him, he threw it in your face. Rafe always knew how to turn a negative feeling into a sharp blade, fit to cut deep and leave you recoiling into your inhibition. 

Rafe knew he fucked up when he called you clingy. The second the words escaped his lips he felt the shift in the room. You both did. You didn’t cry, you didn’t yell, you stopped arguing…but he still knew you were hurt.

He could see it in the way you began to blink faster, he could hear it when your breath hitched. Which is why after hours of unintentional silent treatment from you, he told you to put your shoes on. He had a “great idea” for a late night drive, one cosmic reason or another. One slick, incredibly apologetic smile and you couldn’t help but agree. He led you to the car and began to drive.

“Extremely annoying…” You mumble underneath your breath, refusing to admit that the longer he drove…slipping his right hand on your thigh as he did so…the more your anger faded into the abyss.

He looks…good. Too good. So you look back out the window to admire the celestial night sky. It’s especially striking tonight — perhaps because of the silence in the car, maybe it’s the speed at which he drives…just fast enough to make all the stars meld together and gleam so brightly it nearly blinds you. 

Then the argument rushes over you again, memories of his harsh words playing back in your head indefinitely, settling down and making home in your mind. Then you’re mad all over again — mad at Rafe for being uncaring, mad at yourself for putting up with it…for loving him. “Sometimes I think we should just call it…”

The words are quiet, said with no real merit or intention but it’s enough to have Rafe fucking reeling. The spread over his skin like wildfire until the burn is unbearable and scarring. He stares at you for a quick moment before he’s pulling into a secluded area and turning to you, eyes wide and frantic. “No, we’re not gonna just call it.”

You scoff, not because you disagree but because you hate how controlling he sounds. “I don’t need your permission to break up with you.”

“We’re not breaking up at all —” He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he makes eye contact with you again. “I buy you everything you want, I fuck you good — I’m good to you.”

Your jaw drops slightly and you can’t help the tiny ripple of laughter that escapes you. “Do you fucking hear yourself? Like, seriously? You think all it takes is money and sex and I’ll just sit down and shut up and let you treat me like shit forever?”

He pauses…when you put it that way… “That’s not…I just meant, I know you’re pissed. I know you are and it’s my fault but you can’t leave me..”

“I can’t or you don’t want me to?”

“I don’t want you to…” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it and it gets to you. Maybe it’s how handsome he looks in the moonlight, maybe it’s his words, or maybe you’re just addicted to old patterns…but when he leans in to kiss you, you let him.

His hands grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your open thighs on either side of his denim clad legs. He feels you up like it’s the last time he ever will, he pulls your hips down into his groin and your grind down into him softly. Every movement is precise, every touch practiced.

“Get in the back…” Rafe grumbles, pulling away from your lips with a strange apprehension. 

You pause, not wanting to prove his point, not wanting to give in…but you can’t deny the want that cascades across your entire body, the way you salivate at the thought of him. You’re ridiculous. You remind yourself with stern direction but you obey him regardless of it. You watch as he climbs backseat with you. You’re complicit as your pants are practically ripped from your body, you bite your lip and return the favor. When you should be pulling away and coming to your senses, you just spread your legs wider.

He fucks like he wants to live inside you, it knocks all the sense out of him — being inside you, kissing you slow and deep and sloppy, spreading your legs open wider and thrusting into you until your legs cramp up and you can’t even find the words to ask him to let up a little because he down in between your melded bodies to rub your clit exactly how you need it.

He takes you like he has something to prove. It’s all you can do to lay there, go from moaning into mouth to into his neck. He locks eyes with you and doesn’t let you look away, his gaze both super steady and blown out. “Tell me you love me, baby..”

You can hardly think over the feeling of him inside of you. “Hmph?”

Then he fucking chuckles in your face, licking his lips before he shakes his head. His voice is pure honey, all syrupy sweet and devotional. “Say it baby…say you love me. Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

It’s — whiplash. He gives you whiplash, too much of everything. Too mean. Too loving, in his own way. Your back arches, body giving into him before your brain can register it. “I love you…so much…please, don’t stop”

He is the whine in your mouth when he pulls your hips down on his dick and gives you his neck to bite, his hair to pull, his lips to taste — when he’s moaning all thin and needy in your ear as you come. “Whatever you want, I‘ll give it t’you, anything, take it, take it, take it.”

He clings to you as he falls apart, shakes and gasps with this stupid, pussy-drunk, gorgeous look in his eyes, the way he looks at you like he can’t believe he even gets to touch you, give you his body as an offering — you’re unsure of whether it’s supposed to be an apology or his way of repaying a debt. Either way, you don’t say anything as completely relaxes on top of you, or as he kisses up and down your neck.

“I know I fucked up…I know you’re mad.” He mumbles against your skin, breath warm and familiar. “Just don’t leave me over stupid shit. Just don’t leave me over anythin’…”

You remain quiet because it’s probably the most sincere you’ve ever heard him, and this is probably the most romantic and gentle he’s ever been with you. You soak in the moment, allowing yourself to be taken over by the weight of his body atop yours.

[shintaru]

🪼 m.list ♡ taglist ♡ recent fics 🪼

Synopsis ~ Y/N goes on a blind date with a guy who has a huge ego 🤢

A/N ~ this is my first blue lock fic if it’s too ooc I’m sorry I just got really excited to write one as I was catching up on the first season. I haven’t read blue lock in over 3 years so there is a lot I don’t remember. AHH HE IS SO FINE!

You’re sitting waiting at the restaurant that you didn’t want to go to in the first place but your cousin Anri insisted that you go on a blind date. She promised to set you up with a nice man your whole family has been in your case about when you’ll get married and when they’ll be receiving grandchildren. You’re not interested in dating, marriage or having children. You were only going on this date so they would ease up on you.

“Hopefully he’s a jerk so I can leave and have an excuse to reject him” you think to yourself. A y’all oddly skinny man sits across from you. You eye him up and down wondering what Anri saw in him. Why would she pick him as your blind date? He has this creepy vibe to him. He seems like the type to not care if he hurts anyone’s feelings. He clearly isn’t your time; you can’t stand nonchalant careless men.

“I’m Jinpachi Ego” he says, interrupting you from your judgmental thoughts that were wandering moments prior. “Ego? My cousin works for you… is that why she set me up with you?!” You ask. “She wanted me to do you a favor,” he replies. “She what?!” As if I’m doing your skinny ass a favor” you reply back gritting your teeth staring at him angrily. You can’t believe the nerve of this bastard.

“Fuck off” he replies. “What the fuck is wrong with him the you?” You felt like the vein in your forehead was going to pop and he was laughing hysterically at your reaction. “I said fuck off” he repeats him self. “Go fuck yourself asshole” you shout throwing the menu at him standing up heading towards the restaurants exit. “Enjoy your meal” you shout turing to look at him while giving him a middle finger.

Which only makes him laugh even more. “Interesting” he says smiling at you in asusment. The restaurant went silent for what felt like an eternity as you were exiting the establishment. The only sound that could be heard were a few gasps and occasionally whispers. You recall your cousin saying he was a nice man… “What a joke, nice my ass” you thought to yourself. You call a cab over and open the door preparing to get in when a long slender hand stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“Hey what the fuck is your problem?” You say while yanking your wrist out of his hold. “I’m… sorry” he says. “What was that?!” You reply. “Don’t make me say it again…” he says. He lets out a big sigh before placing his hand on his face and continuing “Anri will give me an earful if she finds out so let’s pretend like it was a good date” “I have a better idea” you say smiling.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend” you say looking up at him confine up with the perfect plan. “No” he says. “What? Why? It’s a good idea! Anri will leave us both alone if she is under the impression we are dating! It’s not like you’ll be my real boyfriend.” You say trying to convince him. “She will find out it’s pretty obvious we aren’t a couple” he says laughing. “What’s so funny?!” You ask him.

“I just can’t see you being in a relationship with that personality” he says continuing to laugh at you. “Oh really ?! You’re one to talk, yours is worse” you reply. “I have plenty of people wanting to date me” he says. “Yeah right and I’m married to Noel Noa it’s good to have some confidence but don’t lie” you say scoffing. You notice the mentioning of Noel’s name caught his attention but he doesn’t question your taste. “I’m not lying” he replies. “If you’re not lying then why am I on a blind day with you and not someone else” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything making you laugh in victory for the first time tonight. “Also I could be in a relationship. I just don’t want to be in one” you reply to his statement from earlier. “Yeah right” he says, mocking your response from before. “I can!” You say again. “Prove it” he says. “How the fuck can I prove that if I’m single?” You ask before you let him respond you pull him into a kiss by wrapping your hand around his tie and yanking him closer to you.

You pull away after you're satisfied and seeing the expression on his face was priceless. “HAHAHAHA you should see the look on your face!” You say while laughing. He quickly goes from being caught off guard back to his normal obnoxious self. “That doesn’t prove anything,” he says. “Maybe it doesn’t but it was worth it” you reply. He offers to give you a ride home while saying “I agree to your terms, meet me at blue lock during my lunch break and we will discuss the conditions” he says while getting in his car. “Jeez he makes it sound like a contract” you thought to yourself while you hop into the passenger's seat.

[bloggingboutburgers]

Would you recomend any books that feature relationships like the one you have with your partner? I just want to read something about non sexual love for a change. And I want what you have.

Sorry, to be honest I don't know any books that properly do TwT Wouldn't have known about queerplatonic relationships myself if my partner hadn't mentioned them!

That being said, if anyone has suggestions of things to read that go in that sense please do share, that would be very valuable 👀

[elixara]

ghost of you — nanami kento

content: angst/no comfort, post shibuya arc, non sorcerer!reader, implied relationship, gn!reader

word count: 0.7k

note: i can’t write angst so this is practice pt. 2. i listened to multo by cup of joe and was inspired to put a few lines from that song here.

it was stated at the start of your relationship with kento that he has a demanding job and he can’t tell you the details of his line of work. all you know is that it is dangerous and he’s doing it to keep you safe. you didn’t pry, not wanting to create a strain between the two of you. you kept quiet. there are many silent prayers directed to the deities to keep your lover safe and return him home to you. at most times, those prayers were answered. until the day they weren’t.

he’s telling you about his overtime job located in shibuya, in which he stressed that you do not go there under any circumstances. your heart grew heavy with anxiety and a gut feeling that something is not right. you could see it in his eyes. that grim and serious look that you’re afraid that something wrong is happening. you’ve pleaded, on your knees and begged him not to go. for him to stay with you and whisper words of assurance that he’d never leave you.

kento could not turn to you, his back is already facing you and he’s headed towards the door, ready to leave. he couldn’t bear to see you in tears before he departs and he doesn’t know what fate has for him in shibuya. with a heavy heart, he leaves. and you stayed in your shared home, praying and waiting.

prayers turned to anxiety, anxiety turned to overthinking. finally, there was a knock on your door. outside, it was a pink haired teenager who looked worse for wear. shakily, he handed you a letter and muttered a soft and shaky “i’m sorry.”

you fought the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. kento mentioned this kid to you, the one he’s mentoring. itadori yuji. from the two words that left his mouth, you knew. you already knew. you managed to croak out a “thank you” and the boy left. you closed the door and you sat on the floor, not wanting to even look at the letter. to open it is to accept the truth that you’re denying. to read it is to confirm that your anxieties had come true. still, you opened it.

my dearest darling,

if you’re reading this, then it means i did not make it. i know that i’ve kept a lot of secrets from you, including my line of work that had you worried for many nights. i’m so sorry for not telling you everything because i fear for your safety. i’ve left you everything i have and use the money to start a new life in malaysia. i know i’ve been telling you how i wanted for us to live there but sadly, i won’t be there for the new chapter in our lives. everything is arranged, including our house. for your safety, please go there. maybe this is my final wish so i can be assured that you’ll be safe.

i love you. no words are enough to describe what i feel for you. i won’t hold it against you if you find love somewhere else. all i wish for is for your happiness.

sincerely,

kento

you sat there, shaking. tears are pouring nonstop from your eyes. all you could do is to scream. you couldn’t even cry quietly if you wanted to. your heart has shattered and you couldn’t pick up the pieces to fix yourself.

no no no no NO!

you’re in denial. you couldn’t accept it. how could you? should you have tried harder to convince him to stay that night? or was it already set in stone that the world is going to take you from him? who took him away from you? how could they take him from you? what did you do for you to suffer like this?

all these questions in your head makes you scream more. you had no one to console you. you’re all alone.

many days and nights have passed and you’re quite surprised that you’re still alive and kicking. you can’t eat. you have no appetite. even if you tried, you’re haunted by the memories of him. inside your shared room, in the kitchen where he wears that pink apron as he cooks for you, or the shower for intimacy for the two of you.

you can’t free yourself from the never ending cycle of prison in which the memories of him haunts you day and night. you could still feel his touch, the warmth of his embrace in your sleep that you’re afraid of waking up and be reminded of the cold reality that he’s not there by your side. not anymore.

[kingchroma]

Hey I loved your Gitae headcanons....

Can you please write Jichang kwak headcanons tooo

jichang kwak headcanons

࿇ pairing. jichang kwak x reader

࿇ disclaimer. might be ooc! mentions of trauma as well. i always put a disclaimer like this since some readers or fans of jichang may not like my headcanons or how i view him as. i’m always open for discussion (for any of the characters) though! thank you. i like learning about how you guys see your faves ࿇ author's note. sorry for posting late and thank you for your trust in my writing! to those reading this, requests are open as always (i don’t think i’ve closed it lmao) so you’re free to let me know what else you want to see me write!

masterlist. ࿇ requests.

IN GENERAL...

࿇ With Jichang, you have to acknowledge that he had gone through, what I feel like, all sorts of trauma during his time in Seoul.

࿇ Getting kicked out of the city by Gitae Kim, is in fact, a light testament of how the brute of a man had forcibly removed him from his position as king—swinging his axe haphazardly, but with the intent to inevitably get rid of Jichang not just from being the ruler of Seoul, but from the world in itself.

࿇ How he was beaten by James Lee twice to the point he had pitied him, not even bothering to remove a limb because he was just not worth it in the legend’s eyes.

࿇ How he was called weak not just by in losing fights, but in many different ways that had gone through his head.

࿇ I think it blew irreversible damage to his confidence and ego—especially if you think about how he felt during that time; how fresh it all feels for him.

࿇ How can the former King of Seoul be reduced to this?

࿇ I feel like it would take time for Jichang to heal from all of that, and while it doesn’t hurt as much as it did for him, it’s like a certain type of grief that lingers in his body, heart, and mind. There are reminders everywhere of what he had lost and what he had become, and so it will take a lot of patience with him.

࿇ Moving onto the lighter things, I want to take notice of how caring and loving he is towards his brothers. That one panel of him feeding them in Seoul and how he had advised Jinrang to break his shackles in order to protect his siblings—his pack—I feel like he greatly resonated with that, and that shows how much love he has for those who he truly cares about.

࿇ He’s strict—all business when needed be. And while I know that the Jichang from Seoul and the Jichang from Chungcheong are still somehow different, he still carries that with him.

࿇ I feel like he would be overprotective too given how he had ensured that Bakgu Noh was safe from the threats that possibly haunted the old man. While he did owe Bakgu Noh a lot of things (I forgot if anything was implied regarding this, please feel free to remind me), he’s protective still.

IN DATING...

࿇ Since I did mention that Jichang carries a lot of trauma from the past, basically demeaning himself from time to time, he’ll need reassurance from you.

࿇ In relationships, partners reassure their lovers that it’s completely okay that they get affected from their traumas—from situations that happened years ago—especially if it gets triggered on a random day, and you are that kind of person towards Jichang, but I feel like he also knows that he has to get better from this.

࿇ That he’s safer now here in Chungcheong surrounded by his loved ones, how he’s with someone as patient as you. How he knows that you love him, and that love will fuel his desire to become better and to heal from that.

࿇ Since the dangers never end, and despite the quietness that the province holds, he would make sure that you’re okay and that he knows where you are. That might seem overbearing, but it’s really just for your safety—and it eases his mind honestly.

࿇ He would be a real romantic though. I mean at first he would probably be a little nonchalant towards you, afraid to show affection or still hide behind his mask, but you’ll eventually break all that down and you’ll realize that there’s a man who loves you purely and softly despite how rough of a background he had.

࿇ I think he’d be a little insecure with handholding considering the state of his hands. It’s particularly messed up with marks from the past, and every time he sees them, he’s reminded that he uses these hands to hurt people and to protect.

࿇ But whenever you hold them without any complaint and in gentleness, he’s amazed. Jichang would probably think how you’re possibly just stomaching to hold his hand because that’s what couples do.

࿇ He’s an overthinker too, and so you will reassure him, calm him down that you’re not just holding it even though it’s mortifying to look at. You tell him that you’re holding it because you want to.

࿇ And he’s probably thinking oh, that’s possible?

࿇ Dating him also means that you get little spies—his brothers. And while Jibeom is the most normal about this, I feel like Jihan would be a little more mischievous. After all, he’s still a kid in his teens. God forbid he was curious about his hyung’s love life!

࿇ Jichang is the type to date to marry, so if he dated you.. sweetheart, you better be ready for a ring in the future.

࿇ Would probably call you darling, sweetheart, love… the likes.

࿇ He would be a good listener and the best person to go to if you need advice from life.

[hwangjoanna]

'Red Light, Green Light.'

SKZ Squid Game AU

Hyunjin X Reader

Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers

Dom/Hyunjin, Sub/Reader

Possessive & jealous Hyunjin

Hyunjin, Seungmin & Minho are all mean (sorry)

Felix and Jisung Besties (Soft boys)

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Physical & emotional abuse, Sappy Hyunjin, Degradation, Use of the terms Slut & Whore, Violence, Gore, Use of guns, Main character death (I’m sorry), Non-consensual touching, Angst, Anxiety Attack, Nightmares, Smut, Mentions of unprotected sex, Non-consensual Sex.

A/N - In honour of this being chapter 13 I thought I would write a chapter from only Y/n’s perspective. As she’s player 013, I thought it would be the perfect chapter to focus on our girl. However, it’s not an easy read by any means! I appreciate how many of you got involved in the latest poll, it was very interesting to see your thoughts.

Word Count - 5,608

Part 12

[Series Masterlist]

Chapter 013

PLAYER 013 POV

The main room feels quieter now, almost eerily so. There are fewer beds and more money in the piggy bank, which swings and catches the artificial overhead lights occasionally. It’s a constant reminder of the loss you feel. You look up at the blood money, and you remember that one of the stacks in there is Jisung’s share.

You twitch slightly, the uneasy feeling growing in your chest again. Grief, sorrow and the overwhelming fear that this could be your fate at any given moment. Not only yours but theirs.

Your boys, the men you’ve grown to care for in the weirdest of ways. In the outside world you probably never crossed their paths, you’d probably have never opened yourself up to the relationships you have with them now.

For one, Wooyoung would have never allowed it, he’d become very controlling in your final year together. Commenting on what you’d wear, and giving you a time frame if you went out with friends.

However, as time went on he’d never be around. So what would you have done if you met Hyunjin in the outside world?

You honestly didn’t know, when you met him you thought he was an absolute asshole. Which, granted he still was but as you came to get to know him you found he had a gentle and caring side.

Once he’d mentioned his lack of love as a child it almost made sense to you why you’d been so drawn to him. Yes, your parents never abused you but they also had no relationship with you. Just constantly threw money at you as a way of buying your love. You never really thought about it until you were here, in the game. Trapped in four walls where time didn’t feel real, although in here you had so much time to think. It was almost torturous how much.

Left with the hollow memories of childhood, where all your ‘friends’ were rich and shallow. Your parents were constantly away on business trips, leaving you with some ‘aunts’ or ‘uncles’ that you figured weren’t actually related to you. You did have an uncle, that you were sure of. He visited a lot when you were young but after around ten years old you don’t remember seeing him again.

This continued into your teenage years, snobby ‘friends’, sleepovers at strangers' houses. Then came graduation, your parents of course didn’t attend. They said they’d try to make it but ultimately you didn’t even feel disappointed when you stepped on stage, and glanced at the crowd and you didn’t see them.

You were grateful, you weren’t stupid. You had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you never wanted for anything and you had been provided the best education, but you fought off the ‘dumb rich girl’ stereotype as best you could. You wondered to yourself whether you came across that way to the boys.

You hoped not.

You wondered in that moment what they thought of you. It was clear that most of them were attracted to you, if you were honest with yourself, a lot of boys were when you were growing up. When you were twelve years old there were two boys at school fighting over you. The thought now amused you, one of them was called Changbin you remember. He was loud, energetic and boisterous. However, he was known as the school’s ‘bad boy’. The other was Jeongin, the boy you ended up with for two years. He was sweet, and he had a playful but gentle energy about him. A cute fox-like face, all the girls at school fancied him, but he was yours, and your best friend too.

That was until he told you a few weeks after your fourteenth birthday that he was moving to Busan. He said he’d try to keep in contact with you but once he’d gone you heard nothing.

Another person who abandoned you. You thought to yourself.

You brought it up to your mother one evening, her response cold as always ‘Well he wasn’t good for you anyway. My daughter should be dating a strong man, with the promise of a large inheritance. I much preferred Changbin, his father is very powerful.’ You roll your eyes at the memory of her words, then you chuckle slightly. She’s probably turning in her grave at who you’ve dated since her death, she would have hated Wooyoung. Granted, she would have been right about him. She probably wouldn’t be a fan of Hyunjin or Felix either. Not that you were dating them but the thought came regardless.

Suddenly, Hyunjin brings you back to reality. “Hey, you okay Thirteen?” He whispers against your hair. You’re lying between his legs on your bottom bunk, his back resting against the bed frame. Your back to his chest, one of his arms is wrapped around you, his other hand is stroking your skin lightly on your hip, underneath your numbered t-shirt.

You’d been so distracted with your thoughts you hadn’t realised till that moment how intimately he was holding you.

You hum in response, but he’s not happy with just that.

“What you been daydreaming about hmm?” His lips now ghost the side of your neck as he speaks, his breath sending shivers up your spine. “Still thinking about me?” He chuckles.

You laugh out loud, “You wish, lover boy.”

“No? Because I’ve been thinking about you.” His lips are now grazing your ear, and you can feel your panties getting wet. This guy.

You smirk to yourself wanting to egg him on. “Oh yeah? What about me?” You murmur, trying to control your breathing so as not to give yourself away.

“Hmm, let’s see. Mainly your smile, but also…” he pauses and lowers his voice to whisper that runs through you. “How wet you were earlier, how hot you look when you come, how beautifully you moan my name.”

Your breath hitches and he chuckles to himself at your reaction. You compose yourself for a moment and then reply, “Careful Hyunjin, you sound like you’re a bit obsessed with me.” You laugh again, playing it off as a joke but his hand stills on your hip and he squeezes it possessively.

“So what if I am.” He says, bluntly.

That makes you turn to him, his face is unreadable but his eyes dance across your features and land on your mouth, he runs his fingers through his slightly grown-out buzz-cut.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re just bored.” You say, trying not to think about yours or his feelings. You can’t do it again, let another guy in. Sex is one thing but ultimately you’ll just get hurt. He’ll leave you, they always do. Everyone.

“You seriously think I’m bored in here, Thirteen? When everyday I have to fight to keep myself alive. Where I have to see you get hurt? Where I have to deal with that fucking guard always putting his hands on you.” His voice grows as he speaks.

You glance at the others, Felix looks at you for a second but then continues his conversation with Minho and Seungmin where they sit on the steps.

“Why can’t I be? Hmm? Why can’t you accept that I might enjoy being around you?” Once the words come out of his mouth he pulls you on top of him, his lips crash against yours and he starts kissing you like no one else is in the room.

God, his kisses are like pure fire. Hot, wet and so passionate. His pillowy lips glide across yours with intent, and he starts to press his tongue into your mouth but you pull away. He’s never fully made out with you in public, at least not in front of the others.

His eyes are wide open, his grip on you loosens as he studies your reaction. “I think-“ he begins but you’re already getting up, interrupting him mid-thought. “I need a minute,” you say, as you scurry away to the bathroom, a corner of the room, somewhere but not here.

You don’t even want to think about what he was going to say. He doesn’t like you like that. He just likes fucking you.

As you round the corridor you smack into someone, and your body falls onto the floor with a thump. You hiss, as your ass cheeks throb from the landing. You look up and gasp, you can’t breathe, it’s him. The triangle masked man.

“Just the girl I was looking for,” he says, his voice echoing around you.

“I-“ you start to speak but then his hand is fisted into your hair as he drags you to your feet.

“You’re coming with me, Player 013.” He says, through gritted teeth.

You start to shake, the fear setting in. What’s he planning on doing?

You try to pull away, but your scalp burns from your efforts. His grip tightens in your hair, and his other hand grabs you by the arm. You scream, but no one hears, no one comes to your aid. Why did you have to run off? You start to sob, “No! Please! Please leave me alone!” Your shouting seems to anger him more and he moves his hand from your arm and presses it against your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!” He spits. He drags you through a door that opens once his mask is scanned. Several guards walk by, none of them even turning their heads to you, a few glance your way but continue walking. You try to wriggle but he holds you firmly, he pulls you through another door and pushes you down to the ground, Your knees sting and you continue to cry. You try to move away from him, scooting back on your palms until you settle in a corner of the small room with nowhere else to go.

He locks the door behind him with a click and slowly stalks towards you, his body towering over your shaking form. You’re hunched over with your knees to your chest, weeping loudly.

The masked man squats down, he brings his finger to your chin to tilt it up at him and you wince at the contact.

“Look at me,” his ominous voice comes out gentler than before.

You close your eyes, your tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, he grabs your jaw in a bruising grip. “I said look at me!” He growls.

You snap your eyes open, you have no choice, he’s closer than before. Your vision slightly blurred from your crying. You can barely breathe, the air thick with antiseptic and malice. His gloved fingers dig into your jaw, forcing your face closer to his and for a second, the mask is all you can see. That cold, blank triangle. The subtle way he breathes you in makes your skin crawl.

“I’ve been watching you, player thirteen,” he says, calmly. Too calmly. “You’ve gotten very comfortable. Haven’t you? Smiling, laughing, lying in his lap like a whore.”

Your body jolts. You stare at him in confusion, terror mounting. He knows? He’s seen you with Hyunjin and that tone, why does it feel so personal? You try to speak, but your voice is trapped in your throat. His gloved hand brushes your cheek almost tenderly. The gesture makes your stomach turn.

“You think he cares about you?” His fingers trail down to your neck. “You think you’re special to him? That he won’t leave you when this is all over? Wake up.”

His words are like knives, they hit far too close to home. You want to scream, but you’re too afraid. Something about him, it’s not just the threat, it’s the intimacy of his hate. It clings to you like a memory you can’t quite place.

“Are you that desperate for attention?” He continues, his voice tight and dangerous.

You shake your head, attempting to back further away but there’s no space. He’s so close that you can hear his breathing under his mask, ragged, it feels like he’s holding back his anger. Your hands tremble where they clutch your knees.

“No? I see the way you look at him. I see the way he touches you.” He pauses, his head tilting. “I mean, they all want a piece don’t they?”

You think for a moment, surely he’s not allowed to speak to you this way. Then you remember you’re in a game where they kill people in cold blood and take their bodies away in boxes.

You continue to cry, “What did I ever do to you? Why are you doing this?”

“You know, I like how much you cry for me.” He laughs a low, joyless sound. “You cry harder than when he was between your legs.”

You freeze. Your heart threatens to tear itself apart inside your chest. How does he know that? How close was he? You turn your face, refusing to let him see the fresh wave of shame.

“That’s what I thought.” He says, He stands slowly, wiping his gloved hand on his pants like you’ve dirtied it. His shadow stretches across the room, swallowing you whole. You rub your sore knees, and his head follows the action. He notices the blood seeping through onto your teal track pants, staining the fabric.

He steps forward, “Let me see.” His voice, controlled.

You look up at him confused, “What?” You sniffle.

“Your knees, let me see.” He repeats.

You shake your head again, trembling under his gaze. “No, I’m-“ but then he interrupts you by grabbing your wrists and pulling you up, your flush against his chest for a moment before he lifts you onto a desk in the corner and pulls your track pants down to your ankles. You scream but his palm lands over your mouth again.

“Do as I fucking say and if you scream again, I’ll give you something worth screaming over!” He shouts through the mask, you continue weeping, pulling the hem of your numbered t-shirt down to cover yourself. He tears your hand away, gripping you violently.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” He comments and you feel sick knowing he saw you with Hyunjin buried inside you.

He turns and grabs a first aid kit from the cupboard, releasing your mouth. How many do they have here? It reminds you of how tenderly he put the burn gel on your palms, days ago.

He pulls out some sterile wipes and swipes them over your bloodied knees, you hiss at the contact and he just tuts under his breath. He sticks a plaster on each of them, gently. Suspiciously so. He lays his palm over it, his other hand holding down your thigh making you feel uncomfortable with how possessively he holds you.

Once he’s done he pulls up your track pants. “Good girl,” he whispers but you hear it and make an attempt to move.

He grabs you to stop you. “I’m in charge here.” He says and in that moment, your blood boils with rage. You don’t know how your fear turns to hate, but it does. You see red, your pulse deafening in your ears. Every cell in your body is screaming to stay small. To stay quiet but something inside you snaps. You stare up at him, eyes red, voice trembling but sharp.

“You’re not in charge though, are you?” you spit. “You’re just a number. Just another cog in the machine.”

He freezes.

“What did you just say?” His voice drops, dangerously low.

“You think that mask makes you powerful? That people obey you because they respect you?” you hiss. “They don’t. They’re afraid. Just like you are.”

He’s suddenly grabbing your shirt collar and yanking you to your feet. You gasp, toes barely brushing the ground.

“You want to test me, slut?” he snarls. “Keep talking.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you lie.

You see it land, his breath stutters, just for a second. That mask is expressionless, but you see it in the way his grip tightens, how your words have gotten under his skin. You struck something.

“You think you matter in here?” you continue, emboldened by his flicker of hesitation. “You’re not a god. You’re not even a real man. You’re a number, just like the rest of us.”

He throws you hard against the wall.

The impact knocks the wind from your lungs, your vision sparking with white. His hand slams beside your head, and you barely manage to stay upright. “Say that again,” he growls, breath hot through his mask. “Say it again and see what happens.”

You don’t. You can’t but your eyes, even full of tears, even filled with fear, are still locked on his.

You don’t look away.

He breathes hard. His chest rises and falls like a storm barely held back. Then, without warning, he shoves you down again, not with force, but with disgust.

“Stay the fuck away from him, I don’t even want to see you even glance in his direction,” he mutters. “Or next time I won’t stop at threats. I’ll skin your pretty little boyfriend alive right in front of you.” He grabs you at the nape of your neck, pulling you out of the room, his gloved fingers dig bruises into your skin.

You hear the beeps of doors opening but you’re too busy scrambling to get your feet to carry you, your plimsolls scrap the floor. Then you’re back in the corridor again, by the bathrooms. He moves his hand to the front of your throat and shoves you against the cold hard wall. You cry out again as your head bangs on the concrete.

“If I hear you telling a single fucking soul about this conversation, I won’t stop at him.” You whimper at his words. “I’ll kill every. Single. One. Of. Them.” He sounds out every syllable with his threat.

He waits for you to answer but you just continue sobbing in his grasp, barely able to breathe. He loosens his grip enough for you to speak.

“Do you understand?” He screams in your face.

“Yes-yes-please. I won’t tell, you’re hurting me. Please-“ you stutter.

With that, he drops you again. Your palms hit the floor and you just let yourself lie there. Curled up in a fetal position, you’re shaking, your body on fire with the bruises left from his abuse.

He stands over you for a moment as if admiring his work. Then, without another word he walks through the door he came from.

You hear the door to the main room opening about five minutes later, but who really knows how long it was?

“Y/N?” A deep Australian accent breaks through but you don’t look up, continuing to cry. Your head is throbbing with a headache.

Felix reaches down to you but you flinch, “Hey, hey, hey, shh.” He strokes your back. “It’s just me, come here Angel.” He whispers soothingly.

That’s when he picks you up, like you weigh nothing and carries you bridal style back to the main room. As he walks with you in his arms, you hear rushed footsteps and voices asking what happened and if you’re okay. You can’t tell who’s speaking, your mind feels like mush, your ears ring and your body lies limply in his arms. Your face is pressed against Felix’s chest, and his smell comforts you.

He places you on what you assume is your bed but he stays and cradles you.

“Baby, what happened?” You hear Hyunjin’s voice but you don’t respond. Fear overcomes you, the guard could be watching you and you don’t want him to get hurt.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Felix spits.

You hear Hyunjin step back, “What are you talking about?” He responds.

“Well last person I saw her with was you, then I find her curled up in a ball. Crying her fucking eyes out. So I think it’s best you leave her alone.” Felix says, aggressively.

“If you’ve got a fucking problem with me, blondie. Then just fucking say it! Stop using her as an excuse.” Hyunjin says through gritted teeth.

You can tell they’re getting angry at each other now but you’re powerless to stop it. You feel paralysed in your own skin. If you tell them to stop, technically you’ll have to speak to Hyunjin.

“Oh I’ve got a fucking problem-“ Felix begins, his voice a deeper growl than you’ve ever heard before. But Seungmin steps between them, at least that’s what you assume because you hear his voice next. “Hey, let’s just cool off. Yeah?”

“Cool off! He’s gone right back to being her little guard dog again. Always playing the fucking hero!” Hyunjin shouts, and you can hear other players in the room pausing their conversations to listen in.

“YAH! SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” Minho shouts, and all three men stop. “You’re embarrassing yourselves, and Y/N is upset, do you really think you’re helping?”

You hear them all take a breath, your exhaustion starts to take you, as you sniffle into the pillow. You can feel yourself drifting off as they continue to speak amongst each other. Their voices lull you to sleep.

You’re at home, lying in bed. Your eyes adjust. It’s like your bedroom but not really. The bed feels like the one you fell asleep on. The small bunk with a metal frame. You roll over to look around and there he is, Hyunjin. He’s stood at the foot of your bed, a smirk on his lips. His hair is long and dark, not like it is now. He looks familiar like this.

“Hey baby,” he says as he climbs on top of you and settles between your legs, You wrap them around his waist. He starts kissing your jaw, your throat.

Suddenly, you’re both naked and he’s fucking into you slowly. He groans, it’s not like he’s fucked you before, it’s like he’s making love to you. “I’m so obsessed with you, Thirteen.” He whispers. You moan in response. His palm that rests on your throat tightens. “You’re going to kill me.” He says.

You blink, it’s not him anymore. Wooyoung’s hand chokes you. His face is in a snarl, his whiskey breath fans over your cheeks. “Just take it.” He hisses.

You try to say no, but you can’t speak. He makes that face. That face he makes when he’s about to come. You turn away, your eyes closed, trying to will yourself to wake up, you know you’re dreaming.

Wake up y/n, wake up.

His hand reaches for your jaw but his voice changes to that ominous sound. “Look at me,” a gloved hand pulls your face to his. You open your eyes and that triangle mask is in front of you. You scream but in the dream it sounds like a distant echo, like it doesn’t come from your mouth at all. The masked guard is still in his magenta uniform, but it’s unzipped. His cock is out and thrusting into you with a rough rhythm. “You’re taking me so well, you little whore.”

You grip his wrist pulling his hand away, he lets go and goes to grab you again but you use all your efforts and push him off you. He falls onto the floor. You run to your bedroom door, still naked and swing it open.

When you run out, you’re not in your apartment. You’re in the corridor again. The one near the bathrooms. You’re back in the game. You look down and you’re in your teal tracksuit. The fabric feels heavy, blood stains all over it. You hear him coming to the door.

You run.

You open a random door that leads to the pastel coloured staircase. You climb them as quickly as possible.

“You can’t run from me, I’m everywhere!” He shouts behind you. You don’t turn back. You just continue until you find another door.

Wake up! Wake up!

It’s Felix’s deep voice filling your ears now but you can’t see him anywhere.

You open another door, the space is decorated in dark geometric wallpaper, and the furniture black leather chesterfield seats dotted around the room.

There’s a group of people there, and they all stop to look at you. They’re wearing damask robes. Each adorning a gold mask, in shapes of animals; a tiger, a bull, a stag.

“Join us, Y/N.” The tiger man says.

You back away slowly, shaking your head and run out the door. Your body meets the triangle guard and you fall onto your knees.

“Just the girl I was looking for” he says, in the exact tone as earlier in the day.

“You’re not real.” You say, “I’m just having a nightmare.” You think saying it out loud will help appease the fear, and help you to wake up but it doesn’t work. Your breath is staggered now your heart pumping under your numbered T-shirt.

“Oh I’m very real, you’re still here. Still in the game.” He tilts his head. “And all because of me, if I didn’t take you into that room. You would have been eliminated. You should be begging for me.”

“Fuck you!” You scream, he approaches you but you kick his shin. He bends over, the screech coming from under his mask pierces through your ears. You get to your feet somehow and continue to run, you open another door.

It’s the carousel, it’s rotating in the middle of the room.

You’re alone.

‘Doong-geul-gae doong-geul-gae, jjag bing-geul-bing-geul dor-a-ga-myeo chum-eul chub-si-da, son-ppyeo-geul chi-myeon-seo.’

Six.

Then you hear him, that voice.

“Jagiya?”

You turn and there’s Jisung. He looks exactly like he did when he was alive. His beautiful honeyed skin glows, and his eyes sparkle when he sees you.

“Sorry I thought you were-“ he begins but then he smiles.

He runs towards you, and you jump into each other’s arms. You start to sob.

“I miss you so much, Ji.” You cry.

“I know.” He strokes your hair.

The timer on the wall is counting down, 20 seconds left.

“Where’s Jagi, where’s Minho?” He asks.

You look at him, his expression mirrors yours, and his tears run down his beautiful puffy cheeks. You shake your head. “He’s not here.” You whisper.

5 seconds…

“Don’t worry, I’ll see him soon.” He says. But it echoes in the room, and the sound is deafening.

1 second…

You hear a gunshot…

Then you wake, gasping. Your heart has never beaten so fast. You can’t breathe.

You’re panting, sweating. Minho runs over to you. “Y/N,” he says firmly. “You’re having a panic attack, Kitten. Come on breathe with me.” You can hear him but the sound is muffled, like you’re underwater.

You look at him, his eyes are full of concern, his brows are furrowed. He takes in a deep breath and you try to do it too but it’s stuck in your throat. You shake your head at him, your tears drip down to your chin.

Minho looks scared but you know he’s trying to hide it.

He brings his hands to your face and holds you in his palms in an attempt to ground you, “keep your eyes on me, Y/n. I’ve got you okay?” You nod then, he smiles slightly.

“Follow my breathing.” He commands.

Your throat opens and oxygen floods your lungs, it was like you were drowning before and now you’ve reached the surface.

“Good girl,” he says. “Can you do that again for me?” You oblige. Another gasp in, you hold it while he counts out loud to you and you blow out the air. You continue to breathe with him and your heart starts to slow down. You’re still aware of it in your chest but you can think now, you don’t feel overwhelmed.

“Jisung.” You whisper.

Minho visibly flinches at the name. He blinks a few times. “What?” He says, confused.

“He was in my dream, in my nightmare.” You pause catching another breath. “He asked for you.”

He chuckles but you can see the sadness in his eyes. He takes his hands from your face and settles them in his lap.

That’s when you look around the room and about five guards are circling other players, two triangles and three squares.

“What's going on?” You ask Minho, and he glances at them over his shoulder then looks at you.

“I’m not sure, something about a contraband item. They are searching beds and uniforms.” You nod, a little concerned but you don’t have any belongings on you so you try not to think about it.

“So what else happened? In your dream?” He says. “Did Jisung say anything else?” His eyes are hopeful but then you both hear two guards laughing behind him.

The two of you turn to them, “Still talking about your little boyfriend?” The one with the square mask says.

Minho stiffens. His body tenses like a coil ready to snap, and you feel the atmosphere shift around him.

The square-masked guard continues with a laugh that makes your skin crawl. “What did he say again? ‘I’m sorry, Jagiya’? Or was it, ‘I’m scared’? Little coward couldn’t even hold in his tears.”

The other guard snorts, “Fucking pathetic. Cried like a baby. You sure he was even a man?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, Minho moves.

He lunges.

The air you just got back leaves your lungs as his body slams into the nearest guard, tackling him to the floor. The metal clatter of armour, the surprised grunt of the square masked man, and the chaos of it all shatter the room’s tense stillness. Players scramble away, and shouts fill the air.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TALK ABOUT HIM!” Minho roars, fists landing hard against the guard’s helmet. The guard’s arms flail defensively, trying to block the blows, but Minho is relentless. “HE WAS TEN TIMES THE MAN YOU’LL EVER BE!”

Another guard rushes forward to pull him off, but Felix intercepts him, grabbing his arm. “Don’t touch him!”

Seungmin’s at your side, eyes wide, voice sharp. “Y/N, get back-get back-!”

You don’t move. You’re frozen. Because you know what’s coming. You see another square-masked guard, standing a few feet away, he reaches slowly for his gun.

“No…” You whisper, but the shot rings out anyway.

Minho’s body jerks backwards, the sound cracking through your ears. He stumbles. His face twists in disbelief as blood blooms over his stomach, spreading dark and fast beneath his fingers. His knees hit the floor.

“MINHO!” you scream, running to him before anyone else can react.

You slide beside him, your knees scraping the concrete as you press your hands over the wound. “No, no, no-stay with me-please-”

“Fuck! no-” Felix’s voice breaks, and he’s on the ground beside you, helping apply pressure. “You’re okay, Min, stay with us.”

Minho’s hand covers yours, weak but steady. “It’s okay, kitten…” he whispers. His voice is trembling, but soft, like he’s trying to comfort you.

“Don’t say that, don’t Minho, look at me-please-” Your tears fall freely now, hitting his cheeks, his blood-stained shirt, the floor beneath you. “Stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. Please.”

He blinks slowly, then winces, sucking in a sharp breath. “Hurts like hell…”

You faux laugh through your tears, like you’re helping him by putting on the act that you’re okay, “Then don’t be stupid and die, okay? Please!”

His eyes flutter. “Y/N…”

You shake your head violently. “Don’t close your eyes. Don’t you fucking close your eyes.” You shout.

He smiles faintly. “Tell my parents… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk like that-stop-please!” you sob, “I promise. I’ll tell them, okay? But you’re gonna tell them yourself, when we get out…when we all get out-”

“I promise,” you say again, as his head begins to tilt, heavier in your lap.

Then… the light leaves his eyes.

You freeze but your body is trembling.

You don’t feel the moment your hands stop pressing. You don’t feel the blood soaking your palms anymore, or Felix’s shaking voice, or Seungmin’s broken cry beside you.

You just stare at Minho’s face.

Still. Peaceful.

Gone.

A scream tears itself from your throat. You don’t even know you’re the one making it until your voice goes hoarse. You launch forward, toward the guards.

“You fucking monsters!” you howl. “He was unarmed!“

You scramble to your feet, rage burning so hot your skin feels like it’ll split apart. “You fucking murderers-!”

Triangle 156 grabs you from behind, yanking you backward and pinning your arms to your sides with brutal force. His chest presses against your back as he speaks low and cold in your ear.

“I wouldn’t,” he hisses, his voice venomous. “Unless you want to watch them kill you and your pretty boyfriend.”

You go rigid. Silent.

He lets you hang there in his grip, shaking, suffocating with hate and fear.

Then, just as suddenly, he releases you.

You collapse to the floor beside Minho’s body again, and the guards begin to file out, silent and mechanical, as if nothing had happened.

“Fucking cowards,” Felix whispers, wiping angrily at his cheeks.

Seungmin cradles Minho’s head in his lap now, rocking slowly, mouthing words you can’t hear. His tears fall silently.

You can’t move.

You can’t speak.

Hyunjin stands just a metre away.

He hasn’t said anything, hasn’t moved an inch since the shot fired. His eyes are glassy, his lips parted, his shoulders trembling.

One tear slides down his cheek, and he doesn’t wipe it away.

The only sound is the quiet sobbing of the boys, and your breath hitching over the corpse.

Minho’s gone and something in you dies with him.

Chapter 14 - Coming Soon!

Please do not copy my work!

Comments, likes & reblogs are welcomed 🩷

Images in banner are not mine!

Dividers by - @sisterlucifergraphics

TAGLIST - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie

@fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx

@missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse

@hoes4minho @hhwangsmoon @riri53

@redlightshyunjinnie

OPEN

[journey-of-daydreams]

Invitation to Nowhere [Rewrite & Reader] [Platonic]

After a "kind" "invitation" to a picnic from Rewrite, he becomes more interested in your mental state than you'd like.

Type: Oneshot Genre: Mild Horror Content Warnings: Hunger Mention Stage: Early 1 Ring Notes: Rewrite is referred to as "Sonic" in this, as Reader is not fully aware of their identity yet. This is also early in Reader's and Rewrite's relationship, so their interactions are mostly negative. (sorry to those looking for fluff)

You're exploring the stretches of Green Hill. It seems your surroundings change every so often, and so you've taken it upon yourself to explore daily. You hope that in doing so, you would find an escape, or a weapon, anything to protect or aid yourself in any way.

As you're walking next to a small pond, you hear it: Faintly, in the distance, an unfortunately familiar squealing: The sound of Sonic running. You stop dead in your tracks and swivel your ears around, trying to catch the source of the noise.

It's getting louder. He's approaching.

Fear starts to rise in your chest as you look around, trying to spot him before he catches you off-guard again. Sure enough, you see him and his wide smile, making a bee line for you.

You take a deep breath and brace yourself. There's no point in running.

He catches up to you and stops like he just hit a brick wall, losing all momentum in an instance. He pulls his signature "finger-wagging" pose that you've grown to hate.

"Hi, friend! Are you ready?" He beams enthusiastically.

"...Uh- For what?" You question warily.

"Great!" He shoots a thumbs up at you. "Let's go!"

Before you can react, he grabs you by the shoulders and lifts you up over his head. You shriek involuntarily. "Wait! Wait!"

He doesn't wait. In fact, he zooms off into the forest, carrying you over his head like a squirming cat. Trees, ferns, rocks and greenery whiz past you. The forest gets darker, and darker. The sky slowly fades from sight. You have to stop squirming just so you don't get hit by a wayward rock.

Suddenly, he stops on a dime, and the abrupt halt knocks the wind out of you. He gently places you down and gives you a pat on the head.

Slightly dazed, it takes you a moment to process the... unusual sight ahead of you.

In the middle of the dark forest sits a campfire and your two friends; Miles and Ekiduna. Miles looks up at the two of you as you approach, shifting uncomfortably at the sight of Sonic. Ekiduna is scarfing down on what appears to be a boiled egg, not looking up at you two. They sit on top of a red checkered picnic blanket, plates scattered around them. Far too many plates for just 4 people, in fact.

You glance at Sonic, who was standing with his hands on his hips. Proudly looking at the scene he set up, you assume, though it's very difficult to read his expression thanks to his permanently smiling face.

Locking eyes with you, he gives you a tilt of the head and pulls a frying pan out of nowhere. "Waffles?"

"Uh- Sure." You decide it's best to go along with whatever the hell is going on.

With a nod, Sonic chucks the frying pan at the campfire. It jitters around before magically re-orienting itself into an upright position. He plops down in front of the fire, back turned to you, and puts a yellow, circular blob into the frying pan. It instantly simmers as smoke rises out of it.

You decide to take a seat next to Miles.

"Hello," He quietly says as you sit.

"Hi." You give him a smile back. You turn to Ekiduna, who nods as his "hello" at you.

"Nice to see you again. Despite the, uh... Unfortunate way you were brought here." Ekiduna subtly gestures at Sonic.

You huff a tiny laugh. "It's fine." You would joke about it, but you don't dare say anything negative about Sonic within earshot of him. You don't have nearly the same bravery as Ekiduna does, talking against Sonic right in front of him.

Oddly, though, Sonic seems to ignore the 3 of you when he's in the middle of something, as if too preoccupied to care. You and Ekiduna have learned to take these opportunities to chat and move about... Though, you won't pretend Sonic can't still hear you. Surely, he must be able to.

You turn your attention back to the "waffle" cooking on the fire. Sonic was starting to sway his leg impatiently. Still, you notice the yellow blob slowly flattens out... Slowly, a faint, familiar grid-like pattern starts to form.

Of course it does.

You turn to Miles, who was staring at a random square on the picnic blanket. You would talk to him, but the poor thing is always too scared... And, to be honest, doesn't seem entirely... Lucid. He doesn't seem to register that this is just a digital world, and never talks about the outside world. You honestly wonder if he's just an NPC, but you don't think it would be polite to ask someone that.

Ekiduna, on the other hand, is a survivor like you. Long ago, he was brought into this game too. The two of you have found solace in talking to one another, about your past lives, and what's going on... and have whispered in the darkest of nights about potential ways to escape. In his time here, he hadn't yet found one. He hopes that you're able to help him, and you've been trying your best.

A small ding! that plays from the campfire brings you out of your thoughts. Sonic proceeds to grab the waffle—or, two waffles stacked together, as you just noticed—and his arm detaches from his shoulder and floats over to place it on your plate.

"...Thank you." You say politely.

"No problem!" He chirps enthusiastically.

You notice Ekiduna reaching for one of the waffles, and you shoot him a soft glare, bemused he's just... Trying to take it, right in front of you, without asking. Before you can say anything, Sonic slaps his hand away.

"Hey!" Ekiduna flinches back.

"Nuh-uh! You had your share!" Sonic insisted, wagging a finger disapprovingly.

"You gave me a single egg-" Ekiduna starts to protest, but is shut up when Sonic jumps closer to him, looming over him. Miles flinches and stares at the two, expecting something to go down.

Ekiduna leans back, eyes agape. "Ok. Fine." He crosses his arms, sulking. Sonic relents and backs away, seemingly pleased.

You feel bad, honestly. Everyone here is capable of feeling hunger, tiredness; You're pretty sure Ekiduna is hungry, if he's trying this. You wouldn't mind sharing, but... Shouldn't risk it in front of Sonic. You'll share later, when Sonic isn't looking.

Sonic lets out two harsh, electronic clicking sounds meant to resemble tongue clicks. "Rude Ekiduna. Stealing! At a time like this? How could you?"

Ekiduna rolls his eyes.

"Bye-Bye. To Green Hills you go!"

"Wh- Huh?" His eyes widen. Suddenly, Sonic grabs Ekiduna by the collar of his cloak, and Ekiduna yells in defiance, only for his voice to be cut off by both of them disappearing into thin air. Miles lets out an alarmed noise, stands up, and runs from the scene.

Oh shit. You thought it was resolved. Is Ekiduna going to be ok? You stand up, ready to take action. Maybe you should-

Yet, as quickly as he left, Sonic reappears with a *pop*.

"Hi, friend!" He waves enthusiastically and sits back down as if nothing happened. He's either ignoring or doesn't notice your stare of shock.

"...What did you do with him?" You nervously question, voice wavering.

"Relaaaaax." Sonic's hand twitches back and forth, as if it's meant to be a dismissive wave of the hand. "He's gone back to the starting zone."

"G-Gone back?" You question what that means. You know where the starting zone is, but-

"Gone back to the starting zone." He repeats with the exact same tone, akin to a record replaying.

"Did... Did you hurt him?"

"Nope!" He starts fiddling around with the plates, moving them around without real purpose. You're not sure why.

You watch him skeptically, not believing he wouldn't have harmed Ekiduna for his resistance. "...Really?"

He stops his plate shuffling and looks at you with his usual smile. "You're asking a lo-ot of questions." His voice glitches out, but his tone of voice is as playful as ever. You can tell that's a warning to stop.

"...Okay. Awesome." You try to calm your heavily beating heart.

"So cool!" He gives you a tone-deaf thumbs up. You shake your head in bewilderment and squeeze your temple with your fingers, trying to decide what to do.

It's... probably best to just sit back down. You know going along with Sonic's nonsense is a good way to appease him and keep him from retaliating. Later, you would go check on Ekiduna and Miles.

So, against every ounce of your being telling you to get out of there... You sit back down, avoiding Sonic's gaze. As you sit, you feel his eyes boring into you, unsettling you. You can't tell what he's thinking. Maybe he didn't expect you to stay. 

You decide to stare at your waffles to avoid his gaze. You hadn't even taken a bite out of them this whole time. Though, honestly, you don't think you wanted to.

What's wrong with them?

You pick the plate up to take a closer look at it. They look fine. You sniff it, and-

The scent of real, toasted waffles hits you.

You can't help the sad smile that comes on your face. It smells like home, you realize. It's not often you feel sensations that remind you of the real world. You're not sure why you can feel these kinds of sensations in a digital world... Sight, smell, touch. But you can. And truth be told, it haunts you. Reminds you of what you lost.

"What's with the glumdrum, bud?" Sonic abruptly asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn to him, and- He's laying on his side on the grass, his head propped up on his hand. Okay.

It takes you a second to realize you didn't hear him move, and, he's actually closer to you than he was before. Great, so he can move silently. Another reason to be wary of him.

"It's... nothing. I'm thinking." You say dismissively.

"You don't like waffles?" He continues to inquire with a head tilt, his hand glitching off his wrist for a split second.

"Wh- No, it's not that, I just..." Your words fall apart on themselves, knowing he wouldn't take any protest of yours seriously anyways. He wouldn't let you go just because you say you miss your home, he'd probably just laugh at your misery.

"We can play a game instead!" He suddenly jumps up with emphasis, excited by his own suggestion.

"Nono, that's- No, thanks." You rush to reject the offer. Any game of his is more deadly than fun, and frankly, you're not in the mood.

"Awwwww." He slumps and gives an over-dramatic, sad bow of the head that almost feels genuine. It's an odd, pouting look you've never seen on him before. It's off-putting, especially since he could easily drag you into a game against your will if he was this upset about it.

You're... Honestly taken aback by this behavior, his sudden questioning and interest in you. Just what was he trying to do?

You can't find the words, and you look back down at your food. Yet, Sonic doesn't move. In fact, he doesn't stop staring at you. Every second that passes becomes more and more uncomfortable.

"...W-What?" You ask, somewhat hesitant to break the silence.

"I made you the cool waffles and you're still so boring. What gives?"

You scoff, a bit confused by his wording. "You were trying to cheer me up?"

"No," He states bluntly. His inflection suggests he was going to say more, and you wait... But he doesn't speak again.

"...Well, sorry my sadness isn't entertaining, I guess." You mutter bitterly.

"Hmmmm..." He hums over-dramatically, tapping his finger to his chin in a 'thinking' pose. "You're lost, aren't you?"

You squint at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You can't find your way home." He sits in front of you in a crisscross position, his eyes never moving from you. Your expression drops and you look back down at your plate. You didn't think him of all people would be questioning you about this.

"I know. I've seen it happen many times." He closes his eyes and tilts his head up as if reminiscing.

"You don't know anything about me." You retort before you can stop yourself.

"Yes I do." He simply asserts, though you don't believe him. Before you can argue, he continues.

"A lot of souls get lost in this place. You're not the first, and not the last." He says in a low, muted and out of place tone. You give him a discomforted look, surprised by his sudden shift. He's looking directly into your eyes again.

So you've hurt a lot of people then, you think bitterly. You didn't know this, actually: How many people got stuck here. You were under the impression it was just you, Ekiduna and Miles... Just how many people have died here?

"Why do you all run to find the same place that no longer exists? Sinking yourselves further and further into the abyss."

"Why are you telling me this?" You question softly.

"Maybe, if you stop running," He slowly reaches a hand towards you, "-the place you're looking for would find you?" And points at your heart, emphasizing the 'you' as he speaks. You lean away so he doesn't touch you.

You don't say anything. You can't. You simply stare at him. He stares back, his empty smile unchanging and his pose unmoving.

"...

I don't understand."

"Oh well!" He offhandedly shrugs, his tone of voice and posture snaps back to cheerful. All of his previous solemnity vanishing in an instant. He grabs a whole rotisserie chicken that you don't remember seeing before and puts it on a random plate. "Let's dig in, shall we?"

...You're not sure what to say. This whole experience was... bewildering.

You find it hard to eat the rest of the day.

[mrssabinecallas]

edit: i wrote this at 3am so it might be dogshit and i might delete it LMFAO so im sorry if this shit is unintelligible !

2,379 days. that’s how long it’d been since you took your christmas vacation to new york city. you were 19 years old, enjoying the holiday with your family. it was that day you decided to venture into the massive barnes and nobles in the city.

you had always loved books. the fresh paper smell, the feeling of the pages, and the jumble of content you could receive while sitting down and opening a book. you had walked in hoping to find a new book to read on the flight home. you didn’t know that you’d walk out with much more than that.

upon scanning the large bookstore, you veered closer to one side, with the fiction and sci-fi novels. you scoured the isles, searching for a new world to get lost in. upon leaving an isle, you run into a boy on the end cap, looking at computer science textbooks in the clearance rack. your eyes caught, but you turned away, face admittedly warmer than before. ‘he’s a cute stranger,’ you thought, and he stayed in your mind the rest of your visit in the book store.

you were a mild soul, not really a risk taker, more on the introverted side. normally, you wouldn’t dare to put yourself into a situation that could result in rejection or embarrassment. yet, in this moment, you couldn’t help but approach the handsome stranger, a small smile on your face, and ask for his number. or instagram, or snapchat… or- yknow, nothing at all if he wasn’t interested. it was an awkward encounter, truly, there was stuttering, stumbling, and fidgeting, and you learned that the boy wasn’t very extroverted himself.

yet, despite the awkwardness of it all, the boy’s cheeks flushed pink, and he gave you his number. as he spoke, you took note of his thick accent, his tall stature, though he was slouched over, and his apparent shock that a girl had just come up to him in the bookstore.

you walked out of that barnes and nobles with your head high, and a sense of pride at getting this cute boys number. oh, and not to mention the three extra novels you purchased, waving at cute new york boy on the way out. he sheepishly waved back.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

2,332 days. that’s how long it’d been since jay asked you to be his girlfriend- “for realz,” as he put it. he was still that awkward teen boy that you met in the bookstore a few months ago, but you were much more accustomed now. you had texted him after getting back to your hotel. you learned his name was john, but most people called him schlatt. there was a brief conversation of how that nickname came about, and that was that.

you learned that he was a computer science major at a small college outside the city, but he was starting to grow on his youtube channel, and wanted to put more of his time towards that. you told him about your life, how you were a business major at a smaller university, you still lived in your parents house but you planned on moving out soon. you both were in similar situations to each other, minus the content creation part.

“schlatt” became your new friend, but nothing more for a while. you had texted back and fourth for months, but you both agreed that distance would play an issue in a potential relationship. you could both admit your attraction for each other, and you had great chemistry. so, you decided to put aside the mental block of long distance and start dating.

it was hard, living so far away from each other, but surprisingly it worked out okay. your dates mainly consisted of multiplayer video games and late night movie marathons over a discord call. a few months passed, and after enough convincing, schlatt had convinced his parents to let him fly to your hometown and see you. (with the condition that they came along too, not because of his safety, but because his mother was over the moon to meet her baby’s girlfriend).

so, after much planning, a hotel was booked, dates were set, and your boyfriend was finally coming to see you. his mom was a delight, she claimed to absolutely adore you, and his dad was kind, but more closed off and quiet. you sat the resemblance in the father son duo. in addition, schlatt also met your parents. your dad had tried to scare him off, jokingly, he swears, and your mom is praising up and down that this is the best one you’ve ever brought home. you laugh and roll your eyes at her antics, but secretly you can’t help but agree.

in the same year, you had flown up to new york to stay with schlatt and his family for thanksgiving. you met his older sister, and she seemed to approve. you were both freshly 20 years old, and schlatt had decided to drop out of college and pursue youtube full time. you supported him, but had to help him weigh his options. in the end, he seemed happier though.

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1,631 days. that’s how long it’d been since schlatt packed up and moved to texas. he promised that after you graduated college in a few months, he would have a big house ready for you in texas. what he didn’t promise, however, was the addition of an orange tabby cat named jambo that schlatt treasured with his life. when your phone rang with an unexpected facetime call, the last thing you expected to see on the other end was a bright orange kitten. yet, schlatt beamed ear to ear, and you suddenly couldn’t tell him no.

when it came time for you to move to texas with him, getting used to living with a cat was strange. jambo was a menace, to say the least. he would eat fridge magnets, constantly meow for attention, and cost you and schlatt several thousands of dollars in vet bills and top-of-the-line fixtures. “only the best for my son,” schlatt would declare, and yet again you couldn’t find it in you to tell him no.

texas was its own nightmare, constantly packing up and moving house to house, trying to keep a stable job. schlatt swore up and down that you didn’t need to work, that he could provide for you for the rest of your life and you could relax. as tempting as it sounds, you are a girl that relies on a work schedule. he wasn’t happy about that, he wanted to keep you at home with himself.

it was when schlatt finally sat you down and asked if you would be okay moving up to new york that you jumped for joy, you could finally get out of this texas hellhole. you’d never lived in new york before, and the few times you’d been, it was always to the city. you had found a nice house in the mountains, and that was that. you packed up shop, and flew up to new york to move in to your new home. it was nice, considerably colder, seeing as new york actually experienced all 4 seasons in a year and not just 2. (summer and football season, which is still just summer, this was all that texas had to offer)

you’d finally settled into your new life in new york, along the way you and schlatt picked up a second cat that schlatt adoringly calls “mister.” partially because he is to lazy to come up with a better name, and partially because it’s hilarious to him. mister, somehow, was more of a menace than jambo. he always had his fangs out, but in reality he always wants to play. they got along well, jambo and mister, but you can sense that schlatt is going to be asking for more cats in the future. more cats that you can’t say no to.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

309 days. that’s how long it’d been since schlatt took you on a romantic date to your favorite sushi place, then drove out to your favorite view of the mountains. he tried to say some big sappy speech, but we all know he’s not much of a sap. so, after stumbling through a bunch of reasons why he loves you, and then an apology for how shitty his speech is going, he knelt down on one knee and asked for you hand in marriage. the cool fall air bit at your nose as tears started flowing, and you threw yourself into his arms with an ecstatic yes.

the wedding planning life, let’s just say, wasn’t for you. but you tried! after countless sleepless nights trying to find venues, hire vendors, find the right colors, the right florals, the right damn placemats, you were about to lose your mind. schlatt was your rock through it all, though, and somehow always ended up saying “just get whichever one is more expensive,” with that stupid little smirk on his face. it wasn’t always helpful, yet it was always nice that at the end of the day, those were the times he would hold you the closest. when he knows your struggling to figure something out, he’ll call your best friend or your mom to have them make the decision. he might not have the best taste, but he sure as hell is resourceful when you need him to be.

after months and months of planning, booking, payments, appointments, and many more things you grew to hate over time, you finally had it all set. you had your colors, your florals, your chairs and place settings and guest list. you had the dress, you had the wedding party, and by the grace of god, you convinced schlatt to trim up his chops for the big day. “i’m not shaving em off, toots.” he would say. again and again you would explain that you didn’t want them gone, you just wanted them to be a little neater for pictures. he finally rolled his eyes and just started agreeing with you.

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16 hours. that’s how long it’d been since your “bachelorette party,” though it can’t officially be considered a bachelorette by definition terms. you and schlatt just wanted to be with your families and friends, you didn’t want to spend the night completely apart. because of course, you were each others best friend. so, you had a nice dinner with family, had a little too much to drink, and played a few fun games to keep the energy high. then, after a long night, you tucked in to your hotel room alone, saddened by the silence that followed the lack of your husband. he was only down the hall, but you had both promised to wait until tomorrow to see each other.

the buzzing of your phone caught your attention as you tried to sleep. a phone call from your soon to be husband rang out from the nightstand, and you picked it up. it turns out, he wanted to talk to you because he couldn’t sleep. “it’s not like i’m lookin at you, so technically i’m not breaking any rules,” he explained sleepily. you just smiled at your phone and drifted off into sleep.

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1 hour. that’s how long until you walk the down isle. your mom is running around, making sure everything is going according to plan. your best friend and schlatts older sister are in the bridal suite, touching up your makeup and making sure you’re perfectly set. you, on the other hand, are trying not to sweat off your makeup from nerves. or cry. or both! you can’t really tell, all you know is that you’re nervous.

schlatt, on the other hand, is pacing the room he’s in, biting his nails and fixing his hair anxiously. not because he’s nervous, but because he’s been away from you for so long, and he can’t wait to call you his wife. officially. (legally, at least) his dad asks if he’s doing ok, how he’s feeling, and all schlatt can muster is a, “catch me if i pass out when i see her, ‘kay?” his dad laughed at that, and patted his shoulder.

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0 minutes. now was the time. the guests rose, all eyes turned to you, adorned in a flowing white gown, a bundle of flowers in your hand, only looking at your husband. his eyes brimmed with tears, and he actually thought he might pass out. he had never been shy to tell you of your beauty, but as you met him at the altar, he still had to whisper you a small reminder. “you look absolutely amazing, toots,” he said with the utmost sincerity, the look of love in his eyes was visible to anyone in the room.

the ceremony was beautiful. light painted the walls different colors through the grand stained glass windows. your matching flowers lined the rows of seats that housed your family and friends, who looked on in happiness. it was bliss. the vows exchanged made not only you and schlatt cry, but also your parents, and many friends. the reception was pure chaos, the open bar being schlatts idea, and you both took advantage of the heavy price tag.

the night was beautiful, and you would cherish it eternally as you laid next to your husband in your home. the sheer amount of love that two people could have in 6 years is astonishing, yet you wouldn’t want it to be any less.

because you were irrevocably and completely in love with the nerdy 19 year old boy from the barnes and nobles. you were head over heels for the 21 year old that begged you for a cat. you would hang the stars for the 24 year old that said he would take care of you for the rest of your life. and you couldn’t imagine it any other way, than right now with your husband by your side.

[bandarrrrr]

since you are open to rants today, here we go. move on toh ho hi nahi rha hai bc. ek toh wo insaan itna complicated tha na, mental health ki aisi taisi krgya. aur mai usse hi zyda complicated kyunki mujhe usse pyaar tha aur hai. ONCE HE SHOUTED AT ME IN A CAFE FILLED WITH SO MANY PEOPLE.(just because wo gussa tha kisi not so badi baat ko lekr) that was the first time i realized something was wrong.kabhi apni galati na manna, hmesha sab kuch mujhpr blame krna and most imp of all- never starting an argument even when its necessary (mtlb we both know something is off but he just wont open his mouth and talk) finally himmat krke breakup kiya toh maine hi pehle kuch mahine mei no-contact break kiya. 2 saal ka relationship tha toh it was hard but mai toh hadd bewakoof thi bhyi. uss bande ne mujhe kabhi mudkr msg tk nahi Kiya. bkl toh hai pr bc pyaar aaj bhi utna hi hai. wo qatl krne ko khe kisi ka mai yeh nahi puchungi kyu bss krdungi🙂

2 saal ka relationship ended is something that happened with me as well, mera toxic nhi tha relationship itna, I had severe anger issues aswell but idk how vo gussa kabhi uspe nhi utar ta tha, uski aawaz sun kar supress hi ho jaata tha and complicated insaano ki deal karna is pretty hard, gotta agree, I myself am a complicated person mujhe khud pata nhi hota kya chal rha hai mere sath and not communicating and conveying when things are not right is just wrong, if you want to sustain a relationship you need to communicate but sometimes communicating also don't work because your words are just interpreted wrong and it ends everything (personal experience hai) so yk after it person just thinks that should they communicate or not.

And about move on wala, mere se bhi nhi ho rha aur na hoga par ab na vo time aisa aagya hai ki vo chaiye bhi nhi (not like vo hogi meri, she has already moved on) so it's just yk a period of denial you can say, but ig ho jaaye dheere dheere shayad