#are your friends still the same shitty assholes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsbarnesblog · 6 months

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Summary: The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: angst and fluff, I fucked up original timeline so there is no civil war in here, bucky needs and gets a hug, you're bucky's gf from the 40's, cryofreeze, self hate talk, happy end.

Author's note: enjoy💘

“Aren't you fucking tired of this?” Bucky growled as he burst into the common room where Sam, Steve, and Natasha were sitting. "If you set me up on another date, Wilson, I'll break your fucking wings."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Calm down, cyborg. Look at you, all angry and stressed out; you need to get laid! When was the last time you’ve been on a date?"

Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise as he glanced between his two friends.

"Sit down, Barnes." Nat nodded her head at the couch across from her. Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, as too many feelings were bubbling inside of him, but he obeyed and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now explain what happened.”

"This idiot is trying to set me up again.” He said, nodding towards Sam. "And I told you I'm not interested."

“But why? Don't you want to feel like back in the days and have some fun with pretty women? This Hydra shit clearly wasn’t good for you. You’re too tense and always mad. Go on a date, maybe you’ll find a good girl to spend some time with.” Sam genuinely wanted to help his friend, and he didn’t understand why Bucky was so mad about it.

The look on Bucky’s face was weird. Like he wanted to say something but, at the same time, didn’t want to share his thoughts.

“Are you already dating someone?” Natasha leaned with her elbows on her knees and studied his face. There was definitely something that Bucky didn’t want to say.

Steve looked between the three of his friends, and when Nat asked Bucky a question, it was like a bulb turned on in his head.

"Buck…" Bucky met Steve's eyes, holding eye contact for a few seconds, like they were talking about something that only they knew.

“Hey!” Sam said, waving his hands. “What are you two doing? Do you know something, Rogers?”

“Buck, is it because of her?” The blonde said it almost in a whisper. “You still remember, right?”

“Did you have a girlfriend before the war?” Natasha, as always, understood everything immediately, and it was funny to see how Sam’s mouth fell open in shock.

Bucky clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap, not sure if he should reveal the truth. He had kept it to himself for so long—ever since he escaped Hydra and the memories from the past started to flood his head. It was too painful to think about you. To think about the woman who was his whole life many years ago. He remembered everything, and now he sees you in his dreams almost every night. Sometimes in nightmares, sometimes in the good ones, about the life that you two would’ve had if he hadn’t gone to war.

“What the hell are you hiding from us?” Sam shouted again, trying to get attention.

“I…” Bucky frowns, staring at his hands. “I had a girlfriend... before the army, before the Hydra.” He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Just the thought of you hurt him, making him regret everything. That he left, that he didn’t marry you, and that the universe had this shitty plan.

“And that’s why you don’t want to go out with someone?” Come on, man, how long has it been? 80 years? Get over it. It must have been another one of your girlfriends that you hooked up with when you were young.” He chuckled, looking between his friends, none of whom seemed happy with his choice of words.

"Sam, don't—"

“You sound like an asshole.”

“Get over it?” Bucky didn’t let Steve or Nat finish their sentences before he barked at Sam, looking even more angry than before. “Just another one of my girlfriends? Do you have any idea what the fuck you're talking about, Wilson? " He looked like he was ready to kick his friend right in the face. “She wasn’t one of them. In fact, there was no “them”. In my entire life, I’ve never even touched another woman because I've been in love with Y/N since I was 14. We started dating when I turned 18, and I proposed before I had to go to the war.”

Bucky’s emotions quickly changed as the hot rage turned into a longing for memories and feelings. He felt a lump in his throat, so he reached into his pocket for his wallet, from which he pulled out your old and shabby photo, gently running his finger over your face.

“Y/N was everything to me. She said yes, and I promised her that I would return so we could get married. I imagined that I would spend my whole life with her, you know? I don't need any other woman. I do not want it. I still love her, and I don't care if either of you find it funny.

The room fell into heavy silence. Steve just looked out the window, remembering the times when the three of you went to Coney Island, and he was always the third wheel. You were his friend too, and the aching feeling in his chest was too heavy.

Sam felt a little bit awkward after saying these things about your relationships. He wanted to tease Bucky, not be rude.

Natasha was the one who took the first step when she stretched the arm so Bucky would give her the photo. “You two look so cheesy. She’s really gorgeous.” She smirked, looking at the old black-and-white photo of you two sitting on the bench. Your back was almost lying on Bucky’s body, and his arms were wrapped around you. It seemed like you were talking about something and enjoying the private moment. Bucky had the biggest smile Natasha has ever seen on his face, as he was looking at you with heart eyes.

“Can I see?” Sam finally asked, nodding at the photograph in Natasha's hands. She passed him the photo and Bucky moved in his place, feeling a little bit uncomfortable about revealing this part of his life.

“You two look cute. Weird to see a smile on your face.” Sam chuckled.

“Where did you find this photo?” Steve leaned closer to the picture, immediately remembering the day you and Bucky took it and the way Bucky has had it with him ever since.

“I took it to the war. Always had it in a jacket, even on missions. She was with me that day on the train. I think Hydra found this in my pocket. When I ran away from there, I found a box with my stuff; the photo was there.”

“Have you… tried to find something about her?” Steve lifted his head, studying his friend's reaction.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know how, but I didn’t find anything. Two years after my fall, there was no record of her. No marriage certificate, no place of residence, no place of work. Nothing. Like she just disappeared.” He shook his head in despair.

“But it's impossible.” Steve frowned, giving the photo back. “A person can't just disappear and leave nothing behind.”

"I don't know," Bucky shrugged, looking back at the photo for a second and then slipping it back into his wallet. "Maybe it's for the best. I don't know how I would come to terms with the news of her death.”

It’s been almost two weeks since that conversation, and luckily for Bucky, Sam didn’t attempt to set him up with anyone anymore.

Earlier that day, Tony announced that his new technology had spotted some weird activity in something that looked like an old and hidden Hydra base. It was pretty much abandoned, but there were signs of small energy consumption, as if something was still constantly working. That’s why the team of Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Tony had to check it out and destroy any possible danger.

After being free from Hydra, Bucky didn’t take part in many missions because the team agreed that it would be better for him to heal and stay far away from triggers. But this base brought up many concerns: it was hidden far away, there was no information about it in nonofficial papers, and even Bucky himself had never heard about it. Tony insisted that someone with knowledge of the Hydra system should go there too.

When the four of them arrived on the quinjet at something that looked like a well-hidden abandoned bunker, they decided not to split up and go through the main and only entrance.

“Be careful; we don’t know that they might hide in here.” Steve said, going in first with a shield in front of him. Bucky and Sam went after him, holding rifles and checking the big and almost empty room.

“They should clean in here, kinda dusty.” Tony chuckled in his usual playful voice.

“It’s not a good time for your jokes, Stark.” Steve was always a little too serious during missions, and Tony really liked pushing his buttons. “I see the light in the other room.” He whispered, carefully opening the door.

“Holy shit.” Sam and Tony spoke at the same time when all four of them entered the giant room.

There were five big glass machines that were a little bit foggy and had a little lightning in them.

“What is this?” Steve ran closer to one of them and saw that there was a man inside. “Oh my god, there is a man in here... It looks like he’s alive.”

“There is a folder called “The Winter Soldier Program” with personal information.” Sam said, picking up a file from the shelf in the corner of the room. “George Harris, 27 from New York. Kathleen Hill, 21 from New York…” He read, mumbling to himself.

“It’s a cryostasis chamber. Hydra used it to freeze me.” Bucky lowered his rifle, coming closer to one of the chambers. Another man. “It lowers your body temperature to the point that you can be kept like that for many years. Hydra– “ Bucky went silent when he got to another glass camera.

“Barnes? Why is there—” Sam didn’t finish his words when the sound of Bucky’s weapon falling on the cold concrete filled the room.

“No-no-no, please, no!” He whispered, moving closer to the glass. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

You were right in front of him, with closed eyes and too pale skin. That was impossible. It’s not you. There was no chance that you somehow ended up with Hydra.

Bucky felt like he was unable to breathe. He tried to inhale some air, but the lump in his throat was too big. The tears blurred his vision; he didn’t hear anything around him, as your almost lifeless body was the only thing that he thought about. You, his sweet girl, somehow ended up trapped with monsters, and he couldn’t do anything to save you from it.

“Bucky!” Two pairs of hands dragged him from the chamber, and the blurry vision of his best friend was now visible in front of him. “Bucky, listen to me! You should calm down, buddy. Just breathe, okay?” Steve deeply inhaled and exhaled to help Bucky, and after a few minutes, he was finally able to speak.

“T-that’s impossible, Steve. She shouldn’t be there! She should’ve found another man and lived a happy life with her family!” He said in a shaking voice, angrily wiping away tears from his face.

“I don’t know how this happened, Buck; I really don’t. But she may be alive there.” Steve supportively squeezed Bucky’s shoulder.

“We can’t just take these people out. We should transport them to the tower and find the safest way to unfreeze them.” Tony said in a serious voice, not joking around anymore. He walked closer to the chambers, studying each of them. “It looks like they are working on their own power, and this one, “he pointed at the one that was dark and with water drops from the inside. “Doesn’t work anymore. The man is probably dead.”

“Are there any chances of getting them out of there alive?” Sam glared at Bucky, who was just staring at your peaceful but haggard face through the glass.

“I don’t know, but me and Banner will do everything we can.”

It took another day to find a way to move four of the still-working chambers to the compound and ten more hours to defrost everyone. and to say that Bucky was completely stressed out and exhausted was an understatement. He didn’t sleep at all, staying in the room near the lab to get all the news as soon as possible. He walked around the room for hours, overthinking everything—what will happen if you die or if you survive? Is it really better for you to wake up and see all the damage that he has done for the past years? To see the empty shell of the person you loved in the past?

“Barnes!” Tony blasted through the doors with a grin on his face. “We did it.”

“You did it?” Bucky’s whole body was buzzing with energy and anxiety. “Where is she? Is she alive? Is she conscious? Can I see her?”

“Wow-wow, calm down. She is alive, but you can’t see or visit her right now. Dr. Cho has to run many tests to find out whether your lovebird is healthy or not.” Tony nodded his head toward the corridor so Bucky would follow him. “We put each of them into a different room, and your Blonde Bestie insisted on putting Y/N into the best and the biggest one. There is a special window through which you can see her, but she cannot see you from the inside. So you can be as creepy as you want to until she gets better.” Stark slapped Bucky on the shoulder to show some kind of support when they stopped in front of the said window.

You were lying on the bed, surrounded by too many wires and monitors. Dr. Cho was standing above you, writing something down, and checking the device near your head.

She said something aloud, probably talking to FRIDAY, and came out of the room.

“Oh, Mr.Barnes, I heard that Y/N was your girlfriend, right?” She smiled, and Bucky slightly nodded, not being able to completely drag his attention from your body. “I’ll tell you this: it’s my most difficult and unique case, but she’s a strong one. Her body heals faster than other people’s from cryo. I believe she’ll be fully awake tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Dr.Cho.” Bucky felt a little bit better now that he had more hope that you could really be back. Dr.Cho gave him another smile and left to check on her other patients.

“I have to find out if these people have families. Did Y/N have someone who might be alive?” Tony asked.

“No, she didn’t.”

“I’ll go, and you, Barnes, will stay away from her for now, understood?” He pointed a finger into Bucky’s face.

“Yes. I’ll just watch from here.”

You were alive. You were awake. Bucky saw with his own eyes as your body started moving and you slowly sat on the bed, confused by your surroundings. He saw panic on your face because you were clearly disoriented and scared to be alone in an unknown place.

As fast as he could, he found Dr. Cho, who was in the room with Steve and Natasha. When he, choking on all the emotions, told them about you, it was a mess.

Dr. Cho and a few other nurses ran to your room to check your condition because you were the first one to open your eyes.

Bucky, Steve, and Nat stood on the other side of the window. Bucky wasn’t able to fully convince himself that it was true that you were so close to him. It felt like a dream, like a weird picture that his brain created to comfort him.

“She’s okay, Buddy.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder because it seemed like he didn’t even blink or breathe. “You can see her soon.”

“No.” He mumbled.

“What?” His friend’s head shot in his direction.

“Someone else should talk to her first. Tell her about my past. Maybe she won’t even want to see me after everything I’ve done.”

“I can go and talk to her first.” Natasha softly smiled. She knew the feeling when you’re afraid that someone will leave you because of your past. “I think it’s better for Y/N to first find out that she woke up in the new century and that she was cryofrozen for many years. I’ll tell her that Steve is alive, and then me and you can both tell her about Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded to her words, still not being able to look at anything besides you. He wasn’t sure that after you find out all the truth, you’ll allow him to even be around you, so for now, he tried to memorize you as much as he could.

Since the moment you opened your eyes, everything felt unknown and different. You couldn’t explain it, but something had changed. You didn’t know where you were, what time it was, how you ended up in that place, or who all these people were. You felt scared as too many doctors crowded your room and fussed around, talking about tests and medical procedures.

The young woman who seemed to be in charge was actually really sweet. After only you and her were left in the room, she sat on your bed with a pile of clothes in her hands and smiled at you.

“So, Y/N, my name is Dr. Cho, and I’m here to help you heal faster and without any consequences.”

“Where am I?” Your voice was too raspy and harsh. It felt like you swallowed a glass of sand.

She sighed, looking at her journal. “It’s hard to explain, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. You are safe. In a few minutes, someone will visit you to talk about everything and answer any of your questions. Now, I was told to give you these clothes so it would be more comfortable for you. You can change in the bathroom right there; there is also anything you might need like a toothbrush, soap, and so on.” She pointed at the door in the corner of the room.

You stayed silent until Dr. Cho left your room, and then slowly, feeling kind of scared to move around this place, you went to the bathroom to change out of the hospital gown.

The bathroom looked even weirder than the main room; you had never seen such furniture and interiors. And when you unfolded your new clothes, it took you a few seconds to figure it out. It was some kind of soft pants and a large t-shirt. What kind of clothes was it? Yes, they were actually comfortable, but it wasn’t something that you saw in the stores.

While you were brushing your teeth, your brain was working too hard trying to figure out what the hell was going on, until you heard someone calling your name.

“Hey, Y/N, my name is Natasha.” The pretty red-headed woman was standing near your bed with a tray and food in her hands.

“Please, tell me what’s going on. Where am I? Why does everything look so strange here?” You said in a desperate voice, you almost wanted to scream because you woke up several hours ago, but no one told you a single thing.

“Don’t be nervous, honey. Let's sit on the bed; you’ll eat your special meal, and I’ll tell you everything you want.” She was so nice and genuine, so you nodded and sat down.

Natasha placed a tray near you, and you saw that it was your favorite food of all time. You took a bite, and your taste buds were immediately filled with the taste of the meal that James cooked you almost every day. James. It was his recipe. The tears flooded your eyes when all of the memories about your dead boyfriend returned to your head. Yeah, how could you forget that it had been at least two years since he was gone?

“Y/N? What happened?” Natasha’s worried voice distracted you.

“It just reminded me of someone. I felt like I was home, and it hurts me because nothing is the same anymore.” You wiped your tears away, taking another bite.

“I promise you that everything is going to be okay. You are not alone here.” You frowned at her words but still nodded. “So ask whatever you want to.”

“Where am I, and why does everything look so different?”

“You are at the Avengers Tower, located in Manhattan, New York City. I know that might sound ridiculous, but you were in the cryostasis chamber up until now. It’s 2023, and a lot of things have changed in the world; that's why it might be confusing.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, overthinking Natasha’s words. “It can’t be true. I can’t be more than one hundred years old now. And I look the same.”

“This is how cryostasis works—it freezes the body so it can survive many years without any changes. Now tell me how you ended up with Hydra. What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

“Back in the 40s, I was a nurse. My– my boyfriend— he died during the war.” You stopped because of the lump in your throat. It was too hard to bring back these memories because it was the first time you said these words out loud. “He died, and then my closest friend died too, and I just had no one left. I was alone, and I didn’t even know what to live for because all of my dreams about family and a happy life with the person I loved died too.” Natasha put her hand over yours on the bed and gave you a supportive squeeze. “Then one day in our hospital, scientists were looking for people who would like to test new serums. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so me and a few other nurses signed in.”

“Kathleen, Josh, Adam, and Frank, right?” The woman in front of you gave you a sad smile.

“Yes, how do you know that?”

“We found them with you. Adam’s camera was broken, so he died a long time ago, but the rest of them are here too, but, unfortunately, they haven’t regained consciousness yet.”

You nodded. Your food was now done and set aside, and you sat on the bed more comfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. “These scientists were running some tests on us in the lab that they brought us in. It felt weird, and I remember that Kathleen always complained that it was painful. The last thing that happened was that they told us to step into a weird-looking machine that was meant to be a part of some kind of experiment. That’s it.”

“It was Hydra. A terrorist organization that tried to rule the world. They were evil, and you were lucky to get out of there alive.” Natasha pursed her lips. “Thank you for telling me this.”

You two sat in silence for a few seconds until she looked over her shoulder at the weird-looking mirror that took up almost a whole wall.

“Is anything wrong?” You furrowed.

“I have to tell and show you something really important, but everyone is worried about how you are going to react to this.” She studied your face with a weird expression.

“Is there anything more crazy than me being in another century after I was frozen?” You tried to smile, but Natasha just nodded.

“I’ll be right back. Please, try to breathe, okay?” She stood from your bed, took the tray, and left.

Natasha came back, and behind her was the last person you ever expected to see again. You jumped on your feet, feeling like your eyes were lying to you.

“This—this can’t be true... No, Natasha—Steve, you died.” You mumbled under your breath. Your heart rate was way higher than usual, and it felt like you were drowning. You put your hand over your eyes, as your body started shaking. It’s just a dream. It’s just a weird fucking dream.

Two large hands wrapped around your body, pulling you into the hard chest. “Sh-s, Y/N, breathe, just breathe.” His familiar voice filled your ears, and you started crying harder, gripping his shirt. He was rocking you from side to side like a baby, while your tears and sobs filled the silent room.

“What– how– how is this possible? You crushed the plane into ice.” You shattered, tears running down your face.

“The Super Soldier serum saved me. The S.H.I.E.L.D. found my body 12 years ago.” Steve loosened his arms around you, allowing you to look up at him. He was exactly the same. This blonde hair, these light blue eyes, and that soft smile that he always had for you. “Please, sit back on the bed. We have a lot to talk about.” His face was now more serious. Even though he was extremely happy to get back his second closest best friend, he knew that Bucky was dying without you.

Steve and Bucky both looked at your interaction with Natasha, and it was obvious that everything Bucky wanted was for you to be near him. He looked through that window without any distraction, and his face lit up with a small smile when you tasted the food that he cooked for you and became emotional. He knew that you would appreciate it.

“About what?” You wiped your face with the back of your hand and sat down, holding Steve's hand. Natasha, who was still standing in the middle of the room, passed him a thick folder and left. Steve sat near you and gave you a supportive smile.

“Bucky.”

You froze and snatched your hand out of his.

“Steve, no. Please—” You wrapped your hands around your body, as if you were instantly trying to hide from the pain that was aching in your chest. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I can’t handle that. Talking about him w-when he’s not with me anymore.” The sods started to get out of you, and you hid your face from Steve’s soft and apologizing eyes.

“He is alive.” Steve’s hands fell on your shoulders, and he lowered his head, trying to make you look him in the eyes.

“Don’t lie to me! He is dead; I saw the reports; I got the letter from Phillips saying that he’s sorry for our loss!” You particularly yelled at your friend.

“Y/N, listen to me, okay? Bucky is alive. He is here. Behind that door, he’s watching us right now.” You were shaking your head in denial.

That was impossible. You knew all this story; Steve himself told you what happened that day. There was no chance for Bucky to survive the fall from that height in the middle of nowhere. Yet here was Steve, sitting right before you. His big blue and soft eyes were looking into your eyes, and you didn’t see a single sign of hesitation or lying in there. He was so genuine that you wanted to believe that your boyfriend was, in fact, a few meters away from you.

“How? And why? James– he would’ve been with me if he were alive. Why isn’t he here?” You sobbed, and then the realization came to you. “That food—the food that Natsha brought me. It tasted exactly like he made it.”

“Bucky thought that it might comfort you. He found you in that laboratory, he has been near you since that day, and he saw that you were scared and disoriented when you woke up. And that's why I am here. Bucky insisted that I should talk to you first and tell you everything. He is afraid that you might not see him anymore after finding out everything that is written here.” Steve picked up the folder and put it on your lap.

“The Winter Soldier” was written on top of the old-looking piece of paper, and for some reason you felt something weird in your chest.

“I want to let you know that whatever is in here, it cannot make me hate him.” You mumbled, hesitating to open the folder. “What’s in there, Steve? Tell me everything.”

“These are the papers that S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had on the Winter Soldier. Everything that happened to him: experiments, torture, assassinations, crimes. This is what happened to Bucky after the fall. This is what Hydra did to him over these years.”

You felt a lump in your throat when you opened the first page and saw Bucky’s photo from the army. But nothing prepared you for everything you read and saw after that. He wasn’t even James or Bucky anymore. He was a Soldier. An Asset. Someone without an identity. All the detailed descriptions of the medical procedures, brainwashing, electroshock, torture, and punishments with attached photos made you want to vomit and cry hysterically. You couldn’t stop crying when your shaking hands took a picture of the love of your life sitting shirtless and unconscious on some kind of stool with wires attached to his head.

How could someone do that? How could someone torture a person almost to death and then just write about it like it was a fucking dairy?

“His arm, it’s metal. Why is it made from metal?” Your teary-red eyes shoot back to Steve’s face.

“Bucky lost it during the fall. They gave him a new one, but it causes him a lot of pain. Physical and mental.”

“I don’t— Steve, I don’t understand.” You took another picture with Bucky standing in his full black costume and a mask, not a single emotion on his face. “Why did they do this? For what?”

“Hydra wanted to have the perfect asset. Killing machine. To commit crimes, kill unwanted people, and basically rule the world.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. “They made Bucky the best. They completely cleared his head from the memories of his past; they trained him to be invincible and invisible. They had a special combination of words to control him, so he would always come back and do as he was told.”

You closed the file and moved it aside, closing your face with your hands while you were crying.

“And he thinks that I can reject him?” You whispered.

“Y/N, please try to understand what such things can do to your brain. Bucky goes to therapy, but he probably would never be able to fully heal from this experience.” His hand fell on your shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “Bucky always was a good person; that's why right now he feels so much guilt that it’s unimaginable. Even if nothing of this is his fault, he can’t forgive himself for these murders and damage. He has PTSD, nightmares, and a lot of trust issues.”

“I understand, but I would’ve never rejected him. He’s everything that I had, and when I lost him, it felt like hell.” You took a deep breath, looking Steve in the eyes. “Please, let me see him. I need it, and he needs it too.” Steve’s eyes softened at you. He almost forgot the love that his two best friends had for each other.

“Give me a minute, okay?” He smiled, kissed your head, and left your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You were really going to see the man that you thought you had lost forever in a few seconds. It was almost three years for you, but almost eighty for him. A wave of anxiety washed over you when you thought that maybe he doesn’t feel the same anymore and doesn’t have the same feelings as you do. You almost went down a rabbit hole until the door started to open.

You slowly stood up, feeling a little bit uneasy. Even though you and Steve were just talking about it, seeing Bucky alive felt unreal. Your eyes were sliding up and down his face to remember every little part. He looked different, more mature, with a broad chest and shoulders and long, silky hair.

Bucky’s heart was pounding in his ears, and his mouth was completely dry while you were observing him. You had tears in your eyes, and your lower lip was trembling when you tried to hold yourself from crying out loud. You were in some baggy clothes that Nat found for you, but you still looked fucking gorgeous. Still the most beautiful girl on the whole planet.

“Doll…” Bucky’s raspy voice filled the room, and it was everything you needed.

In just a second, you ran to him, falling right into his body. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your face hidden into his neck.

As soon as Bucky finally hugged your smaller body and felt that it was real and that you were real, he broke down. Every last piece of strength went through the window as the tears rolled down his cheeks, probably soaking your t-shirt.

He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness for all of the awful things that he had done. He didn’t deserve you anymore, not with this much blood on his hands. But Bucky couldn’t do what he wanted because your grip on him was so strong that he wasn’t even able to move away for an inch.

“James…” Your quiet voice filled his ears, and it sent shivers down his spine. Only you and his ma called him that, and he missed it so fucking much.

Bucky’s hands moved from your waist a little bit lower, and you viewed it as an opportunity to get even closer. Your legs instantly wrapped around his body, and Bucky, making sure that you wouldn’t fall, went to the bed and sat down with you on his knees.

“I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry for everything that I’ve done.” He sobbed, shaking his head. You pulled away a little bit, finally meeting Bucky face-to-face.

“Don’t you dare apologize for the things that you weren’t able to control, James!” Your voice suddenly became rough, filled with so much anger toward the people who hurt your precious boy. His hand on your waist tightened, and you slid your own to cup Bucky’s face. “I want to kill every one of them. Everyone who hurt you, who punished you,” Soft fingertips traced the delicate skin of the templates where, as you remember from the photos, wires with electricity were placed. “You didn’t deserve to go through this, James. I wish I was there for you.”

“You were always with me. Even when they wiped me, I still had someone in my head. A woman with a soft voice, who told me that I'm strong and that it will end soon. I would’ve died without it.” You both were looking into each other's teary eyes, both feeling too much love and desire.

Your head slightly tilted towards his, connecting your foreheads, and for a few seconds, it felt like home. Like nothing happened and you two were just having a lazy morning in bed.

The calloused hand on the side of your face brought you back to reality. Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes were looking into yours, and, sharing one thought, you both moved closer and connected your lips. The kiss was so soft, slow, and gentle, like you had the whole time in the world. It was this type of kiss that said that you both were there and alive. It was a reminder of the love that you had for each other. Reassurance, that no matter what, you will be there.

“I missed you so fucking much, doll. Since the day I first remembered everything, all I could think about was you. Even tried to find you, but there was not a single document. I started to believe that you just found a man, changed your last name, and moved away from that mess.” You were so close to each other, not wanting to split up even for a second. Your hands were moving up and down Bucky’s hard chest while he was rubbing the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you joking, James? No one was able to replace you. The only people I talked to during that time were your mom and Becca.” His facial expression slightly changed at the mention of his family, and you placed a soft kiss on his stubble cheek. “I should’ve been the one who took care of them, but I was nothing without you, and Winnie almost made me move in with them. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to be a volunteer for these tests.”

Bucky shook his head, his eyes again full of regret and pain. “I hate that it happened because of me.”

“At least I’m here right now. With you.” You smiled, sliding your hand into his dark, long locks. “You know, James, you look really good for someone who’s older than one hundred years old. I like your hair. And stubble.” His eyes rolled back at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. It had been so long since someone touched him without an intention to hurt him, and the realization of that made your heart swell with the need to take care of your boyfriend.

“You know that you’re one year younger than me, right?” Your favorite little smirk in the whole world appeared on Bucky’s lips, and you smiled, moving a little bit closer to his body. The metal hand on your waist tightened, and you realized that you hadn't seen it in person yet.

Your right hand reached behind you, grabbing a hard wrist that was covered in leather. Bucky’s body immediately froze under you, and his eyes snapped open.

“Doll, no… You don’t have to...”

“I want to. Give me your hand, James.” You said without any hesitation. Bucky looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, but then brought his metal hand between your bodies. “It’s just me, okay? I’m not scared, and I want to know everything.” You wrapped both of your hands around his hand and then gently started to take off the glove.

The dark metal with beautiful golden stripes was shining under the bright light of the room. Your mouth slightly opened when you moved each finger with interest. Your gentle hands slid higher, rolling up the sleeve of the red henley Bucky was wearing. It was so smooth, without any sharp details, just an amazing and mind-blowing mechanism.

“That’s so beautiful.” You mumbled in awe. Suddenly the plates under your hands moved, and a quiet whirring sound filled the room. You shot your eyes back at Bucky in shock, only to see that he was already looking at you with so much love that you almost melted. “Did you do that?”

“It’s a new arm, not from Hydra. It reacts to my emotions. No one ever touched it without any fear.” You almost missed that last sentence, but the hurt in Bucky’s voice made you grab his face with your hands to get his whole attention.

“Listen to me, James. I’m not afraid of you. I won’t reject you. You are everything that I want. You still have the biggest and kindest heart of the guy that I met many years ago, and I’ll do everything to prove to you this.” The metal hand carefully touched your hand on the side of his face. “I love you. I love you so much, James.”

“I love you too, Doll. More than anything in this life,” Your lips crushed into each other, now sharing a more passionate and deep kiss. You slightly tilted your head, allowing Bucky to part your lips with his tongue and playfully bite you. It was almost too overwhelming, and you both were completely lost in each other until you finally needed to breathe.

“Stay here with me, please. I don’t want you to leave.” You whined, trying to push your big and strong super soldier onto the bed.

“I won’t leave, baby.” He chuckled, allowing you to push him back. You happily giggled and laid near him, interlacing your bodies together.

You two were just staying in your own little bubble on your bed for what seemed like forever, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you finally fell asleep, feeling happy and peaceful in each other's arms.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #marvel #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n

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cherienymphe · 3 months

Text

Escapism

Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Your brother always stayed up with you whenever you couldn’t sleep and nothing has changed now that his best friend is the reason for your late nights.

warnings: Dub-Con, stepcest, cheating, toxic relationship, semi-public sex, jealousy, secret relationship, side of Rafe x reader, lots of playing in Rafe's face, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You were a shitty girlfriend.

Perhaps, in some ways, you were being too harsh on yourself because it wasn’t like Rafe would ever win boyfriend of the year. The blond came with a plethora of issues that could only be fixed with therapy—something you probably wouldn’t even be able to pay him to do—and he chose to handle every single one with one horrible coping mechanism after the next. When it was all said and done though, you really only had yourself to blame.

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to the man before you started dating him.

You knew Rafe well—you’d grown up with him—so was it really his fault that you chose to ignore every single thing you knew about him in the hopes that he would mature and change? Was it his fault that you forgave him time and time again with the hopes that he could still change? Was he the asshole for being him or were you the asshole for going into this with the expectation he’d be something he wasn’t?

“Come on,” Topper would say to you in the dead of night. “You and I both know what he’s like—what he’s always been like.”

It was usually after he’d listen to you cry over Rafe and whatever girl he’d kissed or whatever awful thing he’d said to you, pupils blown and alcohol on his breath. He’d pull you to sit back, hands rubbing over your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It was always well into the night when you both should’ve been asleep, but per your routine as of late, you’d be waiting up for Rafe to call or text or walk through the door.

Anything to let you know he wasn’t passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.

“Rafe can take care of himself just fine.”

Or some variation of that would reach your ears, and you’d press your hands to your face in exhaustion. You’d never miss the bitterness—borderline malice—in Topper’s voice as he said something like that. You knew it wasn’t directed at you, but more so your relationship with the other blond as a whole and his frustration with it. Topper never wanted you to date Rafe, and you knew he took no pleasure in watching Rafe prove him right.

Rafe may have been his best friend…

…but you were ten and Topper was twelve when his mother married your father. He’d been protective of you since day one, having been an only child before that, and you knew that he hated having to let you make your own choices and mistakes with the guy you’d both once called a friend. If you and Rafe came out of this relationship intact, you doubted you’d ever call him ‘friend’ again.

He’d hurt you too much for that.

You weren’t a bad girlfriend for thinking such thoughts. Nor were you a bad girlfriend for trying to break up with him on several occasions, something Rafe would always talk you out of with promises of remorse and change. You didn’t even think you were a bad girlfriend for venting about your frustration and hurt to his best friend—your stepbrother.

You were a shitty girlfriend for allowing something to continue that should’ve ended years ago.

Fed up with talking about Rafe and how badly he’d hurt your feelings earlier in the day, Topper had pressed his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up with a kiss. A kiss that you returned, shoulders sagging and a weight lifting off of your chest as his arms circled around your waist. Rafe had called you a nag hours before, subsequently telling you he wouldn’t be staying over before hanging up without another word.

It had hurt you, but you were sure Topper was just relieved to have you all to himself.

Or at the very least, wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you anyway—Rafe under the same roof be damned.

You both were quiet in the dark living room—your parents asleep upstairs—and the longer you kissed him, the more you just wanted to forget about Rafe. The t-shirt you wore was bunching up under the blonde’s hands, and you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your neck. You could feel how much he wanted you, and any other night you would’ve loved to drag this out, but much like Topper…

You just wanted to feel him inside of you.

You never wore any underwear to bed, both for convenience and just because. It was something Topper had come to appreciate, and when you helped him pull his shorts down, cock springing free, you couldn’t slide down the couch fast enough. He hooked one hand under your thigh, helping you and dragging you closer, the other squeezing his cock with long strokes.

He rubbed the tip of himself against you a few times, coating the head in your essence, unsurprised at how wet and ready for him you already were. The feel made you bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your hips in an attempt to get him to sink into you even if just a little. You didn’t miss the soft chuckle that rang through the air.

“I’m sorry,” he huskily told you, pushing into you with one slow thrust. “Is that better?”

You hated his mocking tone, but not as much as you loved the feel of him stretching you out. You clawed at him, pulling him closer, sighing into his mouth when he finally kissed you again. The movements of his hips were slow, too afraid to do too much and make too much noise. The pace was enough to make your head spin and was definitely enough to make you squirm beneath him. When you started lifting your hips to meet him halfway, he groaned into the kiss.

Rafe was the furthest thing from your mind.

Sliding your hands up Topper’s frame, you threaded your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging along his scalp. By the way he shuddered against you, you knew that he liked that. Every snap of his hips into yours had you swallowing down every noise that threatened to escape. His cock stroked your walls in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

Shifting, you felt his hand slide down to rest on the inside of your thigh, pushing it and spreading it until your leg hung off of the couch. At that, you did gasp, a choaked sound escaping your lips before you snapped them shut. His free hand was beside your head now, forearm resting on the couch cushion. You both were quiet, but your soft labored breathing could still be heard if you listened hard enough.

When you softly moaned his name, he shushed you.

“I want…” you fought to catch your breath enough to speak. “I want you to come inside of me.”

You felt another shiver travel up his spine, head falling into the crook of your neck at that. You knew he wasn’t close, but you felt like making that known. It wasn’t something you both made a habit of, but you loved the feel of Topper spilling into you, cock twitching as he coated your walls in his release. When you pushed against his hand, he got the hint, and you circled his waist with your legs, ankles hooking at the small of his back.

Topper took his time fucking you.

He often did, feeling no need to rush or no fear that you’d get caught. You didn’t know if he was just that confident in how quickly you could pull yourselves together or that it simply wouldn’t happen. Some part of you wondered if maybe he just didn’t care. You knew that couldn’t be true for several reasons, the most pressing being your boyfriend.

It was funny.

Rafe had probably cheated on you more times than you actually knew of, but the minute some other guy looked at you for even just a second too long, he was gearing up for a fight. You didn’t know if he was performative or just that skilled at compartmentalization, but you hated it. What good did it do for him to act so noble and possessive when way too many people knew how much he’d embarrassed you over the past six months?

You didn’t doubt that he’d try to kill Topper in some coked out rage if he ever knew.

Topper’s hand was cupping your breast under your shirt as he pressed kisses to your neck and jaw. He was whispering in your ear, telling you how good you felt and how wet you were, and how much he wanted to feel you coming around him. He knew what to say to send you over the edge, and at the first sound, he covered your mouth in another kiss to swallow your moans.

You squeezed him tight, walls clenching as he fucked you through your climax, cock plunging into your soaking cunt as he chased his own. His thrusts grew sloppy, and they weren’t as languid, and his blond strands kissed your forehead as they grew messy and awkward with sweat. Your legs had long fallen around him, and you pressed your hand against his lower back.

When he came, he buried his face into where your neck and shoulder met, groaning into the skin. You shuddered at the feel of him spilling into you, still clenching around him as remnants of your orgasm finally started to dissipate. His breathing was heavy against your skin before pulling back just enough to touch his forehead to yours.

You could only hear your efforts to catch your breath.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, positive he could feel the action against his forehead. You fingered the top of his shorts, and you bit your lip. You didn’t say it back often—something you still had trouble accepting and admitting—but you told him enough so that he’d never doubt it.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” you quietly asked him. “Rafe probably won’t come over until after noon…if he comes over, at all.”

You tried not to let your voice shrink at the thought, but Topper caught it anyway. Pulling out of you and sitting up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him. Righting himself, he pulled you to your feet, his other hand pushing his hair away from his face.

“You know you never have to ask,” he told you.

His hands were comfortably on your waist as he followed behind you, guiding you upstairs.

“What…? You got a problem or something?”

You knew it was coming when you were the only one who wasn’t laughing, unamused as he recounted his tale of how he’d cornered Pope. You’d never known the other guy to get into any trouble or bother anyone, and while you knew there would never be anything you could do about whatever petty rivalry your brother and your boyfriend and their friends involved themselves in, Pope just seemed like low hanging fruit.

He wasn’t even the type to fight back.

“I just don’t find it funny,” was all you said, squinting under the harsh rays of the sun. “You know Pope’s not even like that. I might’ve laughed if it were JJ or…I don’t know…someone who would actually put up a fight.”

Rafe’s entire demeanor clouded over at that, and you were prepared for whatever was about to come out of his mouth when Topper spoke.

“Rafe,” the other blond warned. “Chill.”

He seemed to anticipate Rafe’s ire just as much as you did, and Rafe paused, glancing at his best friend before huffing. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with that cold blue gaze of his. The sun shone off of his dirty blond strands, the tresses curtained along his forehead, and you watched him bring his hand up to rest against his lips before finally settling on a better response than what you both knew you almost got.

“So, what are you trying to say?”

Choosing to end this fight before it even began, you sighed, looking away.

“I’m not saying anything, Rafe. You can do whatever you want,” you murmured. “You always do.”

He heard that loud and clear, and the laugh he let out wasn’t humorous in the slightest. You heard him roughly get up from his seat, chair scraping against the wooden floor. You watched him snatch his glass off the table, mumbling something about needing a refill but not before making a comment to Topper that was solely intended for you.

“Get your sister, Top,” your boyfriend drawled, making you cross your arms over your chest.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, and you avoided his gaze.

“Sometimes I swear you like fighting with him just as much as he does you.”

At that, you scoffed, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t laugh because he beat up Pope Heyward…and that was apparently a problem,” you pointed out to which Topper merely shrugged, unable to disagree. “I apologize for not finding it funny.”

“Babe,” he softly said, reaching out and touching your arm. “He’s a Pogue, and you know how Rafe is.”

His excuse for Rafe’s behavior only made you roll your eyes, and you heard him sigh as you reached for your stuff. He said your name, trying to get you to sit back down, but you were only more determined to leave once you caught sight of Kelce walking up the steps to the restaurant too. Dealing with all three of them at once was enough to give you a coronary.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer Rafe as you passed him on his way back to the table, ignoring Kelce too when he said hey to you. You hated to take it out on him when he didn’t actually do anything this time, but you knew his mindset was just as bad as Rafe’s, and so you figured it was preemptively deserved. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe was going to talk shit about you the second you were out of sight.

It was one of those days where you really felt emboldened to finally break up with him for good. Rafe hadn’t been good to you nor right for you since the beginning, and you knew that if Topper was a lesser person, he would’ve said ‘I told you so’ a million times by now. You were grateful that he didn’t make you feel worse for being naïve enough to ever believe in Rafe Cameron.

Although, some part of you wondered if having you crawl into his bed night after night was satisfaction enough.

It was hours later when he was softly apologizing for both his and Rafe’s behavior, fingers digging into your waist as you pushed yourself down onto him. Rafe had long fallen asleep, his light snores easing your worry as you’d snuck out of your room. Topper was awake—as you’d hoped—and it was true that you’d only intended to talk. Rafe’s attitude hadn’t been much better when you finally reunited again, something you were sure Topper had overheard.

“You really want to talk about Rafe, right now?” he’d whispered, hand sliding along your thigh.

“Topper,” you’d quietly hissed in warning. “Not…tonight. He’s…”

You didn’t need to finish that sentence, feeling no need to as you gestured towards his door. The blond had fixed you with a look that made your stomach flip, a hint of a smirk dancing along his pink lips as he held your gaze.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

You’d swallowed at that, feeling unsure, but that was a feeling that had never stopped the other man before either. The first time he’d ever kissed you, you’d felt unsure, but Topper hadn’t cared, holding you to him and fingering you on the back deck while his mother threw some grand party downstairs. You still remembered the way you came around his fingers, an admission of insecurities somehow leading to your first ever sexual experience—and with your own stepbrother no less.

“Topper,” you’d quietly warned when he brushed his lips against yours. “Rafe…”

“Do…not…talk about him, right now,” he’d slowly said, fingers grazing along your folds just as slow.

Despite your hand against his shoulder, he’d laid you down, lips finding the skin just under your jaw.

“He’s the last thing I want to talk about, right now.”

…and he’d meant it, curving his fingers into you while pressing open mouthed kisses to your jaw and throat and collarbone. Any protest you had was swallowed down and quickly forgotten at the slick feeling between your legs, Topper’s fingers sinking into your cunt with ease. Your own twisted into the fabric of his shirt, hips lifted towards his hand, fighting to swallow down a whimper each time his thumb circled your clit.

“Fuck,” he’d cursed into your skin. “I love how wet you get for me.”

It wasn’t long after that that he was hurrying to get inside of you, shirts and shorts discarded as he pulled you on top of him. When you sank down onto him, he’d sighed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips. With your hands on his stomach, you’d lifted yourself until the tip of his cock just barely remained inside of you before sliding back down.

You gently bounced on top of him, hyper aware of who was just in the other room. You could tell that Topper wasn’t a huge fan, feeling that you had to pick one between being on top and being gentle, but it couldn’t be both. When his hands slid up your frame, they rested on the sides of your neck before pulling you down. Your eyes fell closed when you kissed him, and you gasped into his mouth when he lifted his hips, driving himself up into you.

You mentally cursed, realizing you’d been tricked.

With his hands quickly sliding down to snake around your waist, Topper wasted no time in lifting his hips to push his cock up into you. The force of his thrusts had you squeezing him in more ways than one, lips parted and eyes tight as he roughly fucked himself up into you. His bed shook under his movements, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining into his mouth, the sound of him sinking into you reaching your ears.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hummed, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

When his bed knocked into the wall, he halted his movements, using the moment to both catch his breath and listen. Your own heart stuttered, digging your nails into his chest because you’d literally told Topper so. Once Rafe was knocked out, it was usually pretty hard to wake him up, but it would be just your luck that this night of all nights he’d be a light sleeper.

You really didn’t want to imagine the chaos if he left your room in search of you only to find his best friend balls deep inside of you.

When no worrying sounds reached your ears, Topper took that as a sign to continue, knees bent as he thrust up into you again. You could tell he was close by the way his cock twitched inside of you, and something nagged in the back of your mind about that. When you attempted to pull yourself off of him, he held you tighter.

“Topper,” you gasped, a warning in your tone. “Don’t-.”

Your words were abruptly swallowed when he rolled you both, pinning you beneath him and jerking his hips into yours. The rough and fast pace had you momentarily forgetting your train of thought, weakly pushing against his stomach. You both knew why you didn’t want him to finish inside of you, but he didn’t seem to care about Rafe possibly sinking into you in the early hours of the morning with his best friend’s cum dried along your folds.

You yelped when you came, a roaring sound in your ears as you felt him do the same, filling you up with a grunt. His hips didn’t stop snapping against yours the entire time, fucking you through it and fucking his cum into you. He had you completely caged beneath him, and all you could do was quietly milk his cock, toes curling as you scratched at his back.

When clarity finally hit, the fog lifting, you roughly pushed him away. You didn’t miss his quiet chuckle, and you didn’t spare him a glance as you reached for your oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumbled, pulling it over your head and slapping his hand away when he reached down to slide his fingers between your sticky folds.

You didn’t spare Topper another glance before hurrying out of his room.

You kept your eyes on Rafe as he flew down the road, the loud music making his truck almost vibrate. He was ignoring you, preoccupied with his conversation with Kelce who was in the passenger seat. It was funny because the only one with a right to be mad was you, recalling the fight you’d had on the beach not even an hour ago.

“She was all over you, and you just stood there and let it happen,” you’d yelled at him, feeling humiliated for the umpteenth time.

“I barely remember what that girl even looks like,” was his reply, pupils blown. “It was nothing, baby.”

You had slapped his hand away when he reached for you, unmoved by the way his countenance darkened. The sounds of the party just down the beach only served to remind you how you felt when you walked up on him with his hand on some girl’s waist, her lips trailing kisses along his neck. You could tell she was drunk, and instead of pushing her away, Rafe just entertained it.

Your eyes had only met for half a second before you were turning away.

You didn’t even know why he chased you down the beach, and that was what you’d told him.

“You’re not sorry…you don’t feel bad, and you know what? You’ll probably do worse two weeks from now, so why are you even here?”

You’d shrugged at him, certain your confusion was evident on your face.

“Look, it was nothing,” he’d spat at you. “Once again, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

That had actually made you laugh, tears kissing your eyes.

“If you caught me cozying up to any guy with half the effort that she was with you…you would lose your shit, and you know it,” you’d sneered, watching his jaw tick. “I would love to see the look on your face if I fucked someone else.”

He’d gotten in your face, his finger almost touching your eye.

“I was barely touching her-.”

“That wasn’t the case three months ago,” you threw in his face. “…and I can only imagine what I don’t know about.”

Rafe’s nostrils had flared, and for a split second, you swore you saw some shame pass through his blue gaze. It was gone just as quickly as it came though, anger replacing it instead.

“You wouldn’t dare, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” he bit out, invading your personal space. “I said I was sorry, and you said you forgave me, so don’t think you can use that as an excuse to go fuck some asshole who clearly doesn’t value his life.”

His words had only made you angrier, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your face even, recalling the feel of Topper’s cock inside of you just thirty minutes before Rafe came to pick you both up. You and your boyfriend had stared each other down for a few moments more before he spoke again.

“I’d love to see you do that,” he finally said, shrugging. “I would love to see you try when you can’t even stick to staying broken up with me.”

His words had the desired effect, and you’d felt your face fall.

“Now, you’re trying to convince me you’d ever have the nerve to cheat on me?” he’d wondered, fingers grazing his own chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”

He’d left you with a scoff, and you hadn’t been able to stop your tears from spilling over. All you’d ever tried to do was routinely look for and believe in the best in Rafe, and you couldn’t believe that he threw that in your face like some insult. Maybe it was an insult though…because how many times were you going to let him show you exactly who he was? How many times were you going to let him play in your face?

The day after you’d confronted him about sleeping with some girl—only privy to the information because of none other than Topper—you’d cried yourself to sleep. It was always little things before that, but that incident was what broke you, allowing Topper to slip into your room and wrap his arms around you. It was reminiscent of a time where he used to sneak into your room almost every night, your parents none the wiser to what went on underneath their roof. You’d been eighteen then, Topper twenty, and you both mutually agreed to putting a stop to it.

However, that night, his mind had clearly gone to the same place yours had.

When he kissed you, you’d pulled him closer, and two years after you ended your forbidden dalliance, you resumed it again. For a few hours, you’d forgotten all about Rafe and what he did and just basked in the feel of Topper pushing his cock into you, embarrassingly turned on because of how much you’d missed him. You hadn’t paid any mind to the countless phone calls and texts that were blowing up your phone, no one else but Rafe and his vain attempts to fix what he did.

The day you forgave him, you knew you were making a huge mistake.

Rafe throwing the grace you’d shown him in your face had you stomping to his truck. You’d ignored the feel of eyes on you, knowing it wasn’t Rafe, opting to slide in the backseat without acknowledging him. Kelce—ever the standup guy—just pretended not to notice the tension between you and his friend as he slid into the passenger seat. The moment Rafe’s truck was on the road—music blaring through the vehicle—you’d grabbed Topper’s hand.

He didn’t protest at all when you dragged it across your thigh, pushing his fingers between your legs.

…and that was how you found yourself watching Rafe, keeping your eyes on him not because you actually wanted to, but because you didn’t need him looking over his shoulder. Even if he did, it was dark, but still, you weren’t exactly emotionless as Topper slid his fingers in and out of you. Your lips were parted, and your chest was heaving, and even though all that could really be heard was whatever rap song Rafe put on, you were still pulling your lip between your teeth.

You reached out to grip the door handle when Topper added another finger, his hand soaked in you, and you reached down to place your own hand on top of his. You spread your legs a little more, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting your hips a bit. You were thankful for the music, certain that if the truck were quieter, they’d be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers pushing between your folds.

He pulled them in and out of you for the duration of the ride, just slowly stroking you and teasing you. Every time you started to tighten around his fingers, he’d stop, just letting them sit there long enough for you to come down from a high that quite never happened. Like clockwork, he’d start moving his fingers again, and he only fully pulled them out of you—underwear snapping back into place—when Rafe pulled into his driveway.

He'd sucked them clean by the time Rafe and Kelce opened their doors, and when your boyfriend saw that neither of you were moving, he paused. You crossed your arms over your chest when he glanced at you, throwing him a frown.

“I need to talk to Y/N for a minute,” Topper told him, and Rafe only scoffed.

“Please do,” he mockingly said, tone full of arrogance as he wrongly assumed what the conversation would be about. “…because I didn’t do shit, and I’m tired of your sister blowing things out of proportion.”

That last part was aimed at you, and you only coolly met your boyfriend’s gaze before he slammed the door shut.

“He’s such an asshole,” you mumbled, staring at his back as he walked away. “I’m breaking up with him. For good this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Topper’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, we both know how much you’ll hate having me all to yourself again.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before you turned towards him, reaching to slip your hand down his pants the moment Rafe was inside of his house. Wrapping your fingers around Topper’s cock, you slowly stroked him, uncaring as to how risky that was. You were just angrier than you ever were at the realization that Rafe didn’t appreciate how gracious you’d been, and how many other girls would’ve dumped him months ago for everything he’d pulled. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe respected you less for it.

That realization didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would…because you’d long stopped respecting him in return.

You moved to settle in Topper’s lap, facing away from him as he lifted his hips enough to only just pull his pants down. One hand was pulling at your panties, yanking them aside just in time for you to sink down onto his cock. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he filled you up, throbbing inside of your heat. It was almost too easy, courtesy of his fingers and how wet he’d made you.

You lifted yourself slightly, moving over him and hanging onto the headrest of the driver’s seat while Topper lifted his hips too. His grunts and labored pants were a little loud, but that was only because you were alone. Rafe nor Kelce was going to hear anything from all the way out here in a closed vehicle. You clung to the seat harder as you thought about Rafe’s haughty tone and that challenging look in his blue eyes, so certain that you’d never do to him what he did to you.

So certain that you’d never have the guts.

Speaking of, it felt like you could feel Topper deep in your stomach as you rode him. His hands were tight on your waist as he bounced you on top of him, cheeks grazing his thighs with every movement. One of those hands slid around you, reaching under your dress and resting on you, fingers rubbing over your cunt.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet truck. “Just like that.”

You knew that this couldn’t take long—and Topper knew it too—and feeling you come around him always sent him over the edge, so your eyes rolled when he started circling and dragging his fingers across your clit. He lightly pinched it, making you jerk, and the fact that you were fucking him in Rafe’s own backseat had you coming hard.

The broken moans that tumbled out of your mouth should have embarrassed you, but you were too concerned with sliding yourself up and down his cock, squeezing him tight and making him come too. Topper wrapped an arm around your neck, pulling you back against him as you came together. Knowing that you’d stayed out here long enough, he was gently pushing you off of him the second he started to soften.

You could feel him dripping out of you, and you hurried to put your underwear back in place.

“Did you talk some sense into her?” was the first thing Rafe greeted you with the moment you both made it back inside.

You ignored him, hearing the tone of Topper’s voice as he said Rafe’s name. You knew that it would just be another useless talk of him almost begging Rafe to do better. The older blond never listened to his friend though, and you knew it didn’t twist Topper up too much, always happy to make you feel better when your boyfriend fucked up.

He took advantage of it every time.

Like now, for example.

Your hands clung to the railing of the back porch, head bowed as Topper drove into you from behind. Rafe was asleep in his own room—Kelce asleep in a guest room—and you couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again, sneaking into his designated guest room and begging him to fuck you. He was never one to protest, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you against him while murmuring something along the lines of ‘not in here’.

There were too many people in the Cameron household for him to touch you on the same floor as everyone else.

You kept pushing yourself to your tippy toes, thighs squeezing together with every slow stroke of his cock. Rafe’s t-shirt was pushed up your back, and the light slap of skin against skin reached your ears as well as the wet sound every time he slid between your folds. When he leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm curled around your waist.

“You love this,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You love fucking me right under his nose…especially when he really pisses you off.”

If you’d tried to deny it, the way you tightened around him would’ve exposed the truth anyway. You did. Rafe underestimated you, and you loved proving him wrong, especially with his best friend of all people. You moaned, pushing back against him at that. Topper only chuckled, twisting a hand at your roots and pushing you back down over the railing again.

After coming around him twice, the insides of your thighs were embarrassingly sticky, and when Topper eventually stilled against you, pumping you full of his cum, that only made your predicament worse. When he pulled out of you, you reached down to wipe away some of the mess, fighting to catch your breath and reminding yourself that you’d have to make a stop to the bathroom before rejoining Rafe.

Topper was silent the entire ride home, and unlike with Rafe, you had no one but yourself to blame in this situation. Whenever you happened to glance over, you’d catch sight of his clenched jaw, cold blue eyes—so much like Rafe’s—focused on the road. His knuckles were white from the strain of his skin pulled taut over them, a death grip on the wheel of his jeep.

You didn’t speak because there wasn’t much you could say.

So fed up with Rafe’s blatant disrespect—and the pitying looks the odd girl threw you at the party as he danced with some stranger—you hadn’t thought of who else you’d be hurting when you grabbed the nearest guy and pressed your lips to his. You were so far gone with the alcohol, and the satisfaction you’d felt only drove you to close your eyes at the feel of his lips moving against yours.

It had also caused you to momentarily forget about your boyfriend, a misstep that was quickly remedied when you found yourself covered in alcohol.

Several of his friends—Kelce included—had been struggling to hold Rafe back as he tried to make his way to you. His angry shouts could be heard over the music, and you suspected that the bloodthirsty glint in his blue eyes was what drove your poor unsuspecting victim to slip away. Watching him get further out of reach only drove Rafe crazy…until his angry gaze landed on you, as if just remembering your presence.

He was screaming at you, calling you every name in the book, and you’d taken a step back as his friends struggled to keep him from getting to you. Only one stood off to the side, and when you remembered Topper’s presence, you hadn’t been able to keep the sheepish look off of your face. Adopting the older brother role, he’d quickly stomped towards you, yanking your arm as he pulled you along and away from your enraged boyfriend.

“I think its time you call it a night,” he’d evenly said.

That was the last thing he’d said to you, holding you as you stumbled to his car.

When his phone rang again, cutting through the silence in the vehicle, he finally answered it.

“Rafe, she’s drunk,” Topper told him the minute he picked it up. “…and you can’t act like you didn’t have this coming a little.”

You shifted in your seat, thinking to yourself that you’d gotten back at Rafe many times over. You didn’t hear what your boyfriend—possibly ex-boyfriend—said on the other line, but it was loud, and you could pick up on his tone. Topper chuckled to himself, and if you hadn’t been looking at his face, you might’ve thought it was genuine. His frustration with both Rafe and you—mostly you at the moment—was all over his face.

“There’s a whole list of shit you’ve done while drunk or high. You can talk to her tomorrow,” he told his best friend, meeting your gaze. “I’m handling it, so if you come over, I’m telling you now I’m not answering the door.”

You looked out the window at that, swallowing at the venom in both his voice and his gaze.

Your parents weren’t home, out of town for the weekend, and you were never more grateful, certain you’d never been this drunk in your life. Topper was still ignoring you as he helped you inside, and when you stumbled away from him, leaning against the table by the entrance, you gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Before you could do it, he was dropping to his knees, angrily taking off your shoes. You flinched at the way he threw them across the room, slowly rising and staring you down. The house was quiet—too quiet for comfort—and you licked your lips.

“Topper-.”

“It’s already bad enough seeing you kiss him and be with him and fuck him,” he spat at you, pointing outside. “Even worse when he treats you like shit, and you just won’t leave.”

You frowned at him, tears kissing your eyes.

“I’m…sorry for just hoping he’ll do better…”

“He won’t!”

Topper’s voice bounced off of the walls, and you shrunk away from him as he got in your face.

“How many times does he have to show you that? Why do you still expect better from him, so much so to the point where you’re kissing random guys, now?” he wondered, rearing back away from you with a frown. “Yeah, you wanted to make Rafe angry, but we both know the truth.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together when Topper stepped closer. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he exhaled through his nose, the atmosphere tense.

“Rafe’s mad because you dared to play his own game,” he slowly whispered. “I love you, and we both know it’s me you’re really with, not him, and I’m fucking pissed.”

You swallowed with one look into his eyes, finally finding the strength to face him, and your heart skipped a beat at what you saw there.

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, fingers digging into your arms. The sequence of events happened too fast for your drunk brain to catch up with, only gasping when he reached down to press his hand into the small of your back, yanking you closer. If it wasn’t for him holding you, you would’ve tripped over your own feet as he forced you into the living room.

Topper’s teeth nipped at your throat while he pulled at your dress, something Rafe had bought.

“I fucking hate this dress,” he quietly confessed as if reading your mind.

The sound of tearing fabric reached your ears as he forced you to bend back, his arm around you keeping you from collapsing. He kept you against him as he laid you down on the floor, in a hurry to get you at least half naked. His other hand reached behind his head to yank off his shirt, and you only had the sense to hold onto his arms while he kissed along your chest. When his pants were pushed down just enough, he pushed into you with a grunt.

You scratched at his skin at the rough entry, but it took no time for each thrust to become as smooth as they always were whenever he got his hands on you. One of your hands clawed at the rug, and you moaned—loud—when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. You suspected that Top had done a line or two tonight, gasping at his uncharacteristically tight grip.

He was fucking you so good that you almost missed the sound of a vehicle in the yard. When you did, your eyes flew open, and you attempted to look around towards the window. You guys were too close to the couch to see over it, and when you whined, pushing against him, Topper only grabbed your hands and pinned them down beside your head.

“Topper, I think…”

You couldn’t get it out, groaning as he curved his hips against yours.

“Fuck him,” he breathed, pounding into you.

The harsh knocks on the door didn’t faze him, and Topper only let one of your hands go to reach down and reach under your thigh. He rested that leg over his shoulder, pushing it towards you as his nose brushed yours, lips parted as he thrust into you. You were dripping around him, teeth sinking into your lip as Rafe knocked on the door again, trying the locked handle. Somewhere, you could hear your phone vibrating…and then Topper’s after a while.

The man on top of you didn’t care, stretching you out, pushing his cock into your tight hole.

“Break up with him, or don’t,” he whispered to you, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose. “…but what you pulled tonight is not happening again.”

You drunkenly nodded at him, mewling as he slowed down his thrusts, the sucking sound of his cock plunging into you reaching your ears. You heard your phone vibrate again.

“You know where to find me when he pisses you off.”

#topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton smut #topper thornton fanfiction #obx #outer banks #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron

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halloweenbitch2764 · 7 months

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When They Get Feelings For You

Slenderman

Your consistent visits are what started his initial crush. Nobody had ever made such an effort for him. If there was a day you couldn't come, you would tell him the day before. Even small gestures such as that only solidified his feelings.

Getting to learn more about you made that little crush grow. You were similar enough, but in the same vein, you were also different enough. You were your own person with your own thoughts. Having the powers he did, he was used to people following his every word. Well... mostly. Having someone with an independent mind and considerate heart just made the crush blossom into more. You being so cute was just the cherry on top.

BEN Drowned

For him being a demon that appeared out of your television, you were pretty chill. You didn't judge him for smoking weed, and you were wicked good at video games. He was used to consistently and easily winning, so when you gave him a run for his money, his heart jumped.

You'd offer him snacks when he was over and made sure to keep some of his favorite munchies snacks in your pantry. You didn't pry about his background. You were respectful of his boundaries. His background was still a sensitive subject to him, and your tenderness about it made his heart leap.

Eyeless Jack

Your openness to him eating kidneys was the catalyst. He didn't expect you to be okay with something as vile as that and understood that you didn't want to watch him eat them. But you would let him eat them in your house.

He was by no means talkative, but he enjoyed the conversations you two would have. You were so opinionated but, at the same time, willing to change perspectives if you were proven wrong. He enjoyed how attentive you were when he would talk to you about the human body and different medications. No human would give him the time of day unless he forced them to, and then that whole scenario lost it's charm. Your personality and looks opened his heart to y

Hoodie

Similar to Masky, you gave him a more stable existence. College made his disappearances just look like he had to catch up on class work. You never questioned why he wasn't able to hang out, and you never pried when he'd give you a shitty excuse. After meeting you, though, he thanked the stars that he had asked to sit next to you that first day. He almost didn't approach you. You were in your own little world. So pretty. And you had only grown more attractive.

He loved when you would ramble about your hobbies and things you liked. He could sit for hours at a time and listen. Your voice was so sweet. It made him feel safe. It was safe to say you were becoming something of a home to him.

Masky

A hint of normalcy. That's what started his crush. You gave his life stability. He even cut back on his cigarette breaks because of you. You didn't question why he would disappear for days at a time despite his shifty excuse about it being work related. You helped make sure he took his medications on time.

He was petrified you'd find out about his Masky state. Masky was so unpredictable and dangerous that he prayed you two would never cross paths. How do you explain that to someone? That you becoming a murderer, controlled by an Eldritch abomination. He didn't want to think about it. So, he allowed himself to develop feelings for you. You were kind and understanding. Maybe he could allow himself something so nice for once in his life.

Jeff The Killer

Jeff had secretly had a crush on you since high school. He always thought you were pretty and *may* have stalked you on a few occasions. Just the way you were so nice and had your own group of friends made him envious, but not necessarily in a negative way. More like he wanted to be like you.

He thought you moved gracefully and honestly didn't expect you to be so open, considering he had broken into your house the first couple of times. Hell, he didn't expect you to remember him at all. He may be an asshole but your kindness forms a yin and yang with him (in his opinion).

Laughing Jack

For being a child murderer he sure liked how nice you were to Lily. It's what made him want to meet you in the first place. Lily talked a lot about you. She always talked about how much she liked being at your house, going out to the park and mcdonalds with you, and just other small things.

He grew to love how quickly he could make you blush and how pretty it looked on you. You were just so pretty in general. You made his days less gray. You added pops of color to once monochromatic moments. How was he NOT supposed to fall for you?

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mentallyadinonugget · 6 days

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“but james potter was a bully””he bullied snape!!!” ok? someone had to do it.

🙄

~Here’s a list of good and shitty things Snape did canonically:

Bad:

•Snape was a blood supremacist who called lily a slur.

•invented a curse for enemies (marauders)

I don’t think a good person would make up a curse which mutilates someone terribly. That too, during his time in Hogwarts.

•oh yeah later on he became a death eater 😋 (the main goal of the death eaters wasto eliminate all muggle-borns in the wizarding world and establish voldemort as its ruler)(magical nazis basically).

Plus when voldy was going to kill lily, Snape was like yk what you can kill the husband and the INFANT just don’t hurt my lily flower teehee like okay james bullied him so him not caring about james made sense but harry was a child bro

•BULLIED CHILDREN DURING HIS TIME AS A PROFESSOR????? he was literally neville’s bogart ffs and not because “some teachers are just scary okay Neville was afraid of almost everything!!!” but because Snape bullied neville on a daily basis plus threatened to kill his pet after a failed potion thingy. plus he made fun hermione’s physical appearance (when draco made her teeth all big and Snape was like hah it’s the same there’s no difference) and he bullied for BEING GOOD AT ACADEMICS LIKE 😭😭😭???? He bullied almost everyone in Hogwarts I just know it.

•sectumsempra’d George’s year off.

•tried to out Remus Lupin as a werewolf for NO reason other than his childish misdemeanour.

Good:

•called Sirius and Remus an old married couple.

•saves Katie bell from a cursed necklace

•saves draco malfoy from a terrible curse that could’ve killed him by the counter charm “vulnera saneteur”

can someone guess which curse Snape saved draco from??? You’re right! It was sectumsempra!

•switched sides or smth

~Here’s a list of good and shitty things james did canonically:

Bad:

•called Snape snivellus (was funny ngl)

•bully snape

Good:

•turned into an illegal animagus at the age of 15 so his werewolf friend (Remus) has company during his transformations.

•took sirius black in after he ran away from an abusive hoursehold.

•SAVED FUCKING SNAPE FROM REMUS IN HIS WEREWOLF FORM AFTER SIRIUS SENT HIM THERE.

JAMES SAVED SNAPE.

•literally died trying to stall Voldemort so Lily and Harry have some time to escape or just live in general.

So my point is canon james was a bit of an asshole but he still did way more good deeds than Snape even though Snape was in all the seven books like one of the good things he did was literally the consequences of his own actions (healing draco).

All of this is canon btw. NONE of it is fanon.

sincerely keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth he did what should have been done.

cutie

#james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #lily evans #severus snape #should’ve pushed Snape in a lake #regulus black #jegulus #wolfstar #jily #the marauders era #slytherin #gryffindor #hogwarts #snape was a bigger bully than James and yall aren’t ready for the conversation #james potter you will always be famous

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writethrough · 1 year

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Bad Boy Type

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: Girls' night at Billy and Max's new place takes a turn when El insists on you marrying Billy.

Warnings: Mentions of Neil, extreme fluff, mutual pining (because I'm a whore for that shit), language

Word Count: 4056

A/N: This might be the fluffiest thing I've written. It's also the longest. And yes, I still have requests to finish. But life really said, "It's Billy's time," and I'm not mad about it.

You were fiercely protective over Max and El since you met. They became the younger sisters you never had. You’d do anything for them. And you always made sure to plan something with them as often as possible.

Today, you three were holed up at Max and Billy’s new place. It wasn’t much. It was a steal since it’d been so run down no one else wanted it. You and the rest of your group helped fix up what you could. After everything you’d all been through, it created an untouchable bond. And everyone was eager to help in whatever way they could, especially once Max confided in you about Billy’s father. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Neil was a shitty person. He gave off enough hostility to power a freight train. A few months after renovating, the house was finally livable. And between your car and Billy’s, they moved within the hour.

All three of you were on the floor around the coffee table, snacking on candy and discussing very important business.

“Okay, okay,” Max said, trying to rein in her laughter. “El, kiss, marry, kill…The Outsiders.”

You grinned and leaned closer as El looked down in thought.

“Kiss Sodapop, marry Johnny, and…I don’t want to kill anyone,” she said timidly.

And because it was El, you and Max accepted that.

You faced Max. “I’m guessing yours would be the same?”

“I’m killing Steve,” she added, and you snickered. “What about you?”

You hummed, running through the characters before picking three.

“Kill Two-Bit, kiss Darry, marry Dally,” you said with a nod.

“Dally’s an asshole!” Max groaned, slapping her thighs.

“But he’s hot,” you countered.

“But he’s an asshole,” she repeated, giving you a look.

“But he’s hot.”

After a few seconds, you all started giggling. You really loved spending time with these two.

El grew quiet, deep in thought, and she made you and Max stop laughing with her question.

“What about Billy?”

Your brow furrowed. “Billy?”

She nodded. “Would you marry him?”

Your face grew warm. Did El think because you liked the bad boy character in a film, you liked one in reality?

Billy had never been outright rude to you—his attitude rubbed you the wrong way—cocky and smug like he knew he could get away with almost anything. It wasn’t until after the Mind Flayer that you befriended him.

You’d describe your friendship as…quiet. You didn’t hang out together—only in a group with everyone or Steve and the other adults. Usually, though, you saw him most when you, Max, and El hung out.

You were the girls’ friend first and foremost. When you started picking Max up when they lived with their parents, he always scowled at you through the door as she raced to your car. Later, you thought it had something to do with Neil’s reactions to his stepdaughter not being home even though he knew where Max was. You had enough knocks on the door from Billy to put two and two together.

Now, Billy was relaxed when you picked her up or stayed over. You sometimes wondered if he was glad Max had you to rely on now that it was just him and his stepsister. If she ever needed anything, he could count on you to lend him a hand.

So while he wasn’t the same rage-filled boy you knew in high school, his reputation still preceded him. Though now you knew him in a different light—provider, protector, and maybe that was why you started to like him.

You shook your head to rid yourself of that thought.

“I…Well, I…I don’t…” Jesus Christ! How were you supposed to answer this without giving yourself away?

Just then, a car door slammed. Billy’s home.

He threw his jacket on the hook and his keys on the table and stopped when he noticed you, Max, and El.

His eyes seemed to linger on you before addressing everyone.

“Hey,” he said, mentally kicking himself. Couldn’t he think of anything better to say? Maybe “you look nice,” not “hey.”

“How was work,” you asked, still trying to shake off El’s question and the fact that he walked in as if summoned.

“Fine. Didn’t know you’d be over.” He would've cleaned up and made it look nice. Maybe then he could cook you dinner.

He had to stop from asking if this little get-together was overnight. He sure hoped so.

“I dragged her out of her house for girls' day. They’re sleeping over, too,” Max said. Maybe she could read his mind—maybe that was why most of your time was spent at Billy’s place and not yours—because Max knew he needed an excuse to talk to you since the Mind Flayer.

He nodded slowly and gestured toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Order pizza or I can make spaghetti?” he asked.

You tilted your head at his words. Billy cooked?

It made sense. You’re sure he’s had to fend for himself most of his life. You just never thought about him in the kitchen.

Before you could say anything, El said, “I like spaghetti.” And that seemed to settle it.

When Billy left, Max leaned forward. “Don’t worry, he’s actually a really good cook.”

And to play off your daydreams of Billy cooking you breakfast, you said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

—

When Billy emerged from the steamy bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, you were both relieved and disappointed your back faced him.

The girls were telling you their boyfriend troubles, and it took everything in you not to imagine the remaining water tracing Billy’s toned stomach.

“Sometimes I think you have the right idea,” Max said, flopping back in the chair.

You blinked, coming back to reality. “Me? What idea is that?”

“Being single.” She shrugged. “Boys are a pain in the ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “While that is true, sometimes I think it’d be nice to have my person, you know?”

“Your person?” El asked, furrowing her brow.

“Someone who’s always there for you, no matter what. They accept every part of you, good and bad.” You sighed. “They're the person you want to be around the most.”

She looked at you seriously. “We are your person.”

It nearly brought tears to your eyes. One of the many reasons you loved El was her heart.

“C’mere,” you whispered, holding open your arms.

She scootched toward you and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“You too.” You motioned Max over.

That’s how Billy found you three, hugging each other on the couch like you were trying to absorb into one being.

“Am I interrupting some girl thing?” he asked, opening the cabinet.

You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “No, you’re fine.” You looked over the back of the couch. “Anything I can help with?”

He gave you a flirty smile. “Don’t worry. I got it.”

It didn’t take long for him to announce it was ready, and you all grabbed your plates and huddled around the coffee table again. A little thrill went through you when Billy sat beside you, taking your dish from you and setting it down so you could lower yourself.

It was quiet for a few minutes as you all took your first bites. It was only pasta and marinara sauce, but it hit the spot. Maybe it was because Billy made it.

“I’m impressed,” you said, waving your fork around your plate.

“I’m a man of many talents,” Billy mused, warmth blooming in his chest.

“Does this mean you’ll marry Billy?”

You nearly choked on the bite you took. You wished she could read minds so you could scream, “Not the freaking time!”

Billy’s face flushed as he glanced between you two.

“Am I missing something?” He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating. You wanted to marry him? Well, no. It sounded like you didn’t want to marry him. Why didn’t you want to marry him?

“No,” you said quickly. Billy tried to convince himself his chest didn’t constrict at that word.

“(Y/N) would marry Dally,” El said. “And Dally’s an asshole.”

You put your face in your hands. There was no stopping her.

“And I’ve called you an asshole so many times.” Max provided as an explanation.

Billy could only look at you, and as you curled further in on yourself, he smirked—even though he’d been called an asshole twice—maybe there was something to El’s question.

“Didn’t think you were into that type,” he said, leaning back against the couch.

“I’m not. Not really.” You couldn’t look at him, opting to push the noodles around your plate.

“No? Then what is your type, sweetheart?”

He was teasing you. You could push back with teasing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.” And the way he said it, it took on a seriousness you weren’t prepared for—like he really wanted to know because he cared about the answer. Like it meant something to him.

“I—”

The phone saved you. And Max jumped up.

“It’s probably Lucas,” she said. They’d been having a good week.

You took the opportunity to excuse yourself. “I’m gonna change.”

You grabbed your things and closed the bathroom door.

—

Billy watched as you fled. It was cute how flustered he could make you. And that’s when an idea struck him.

With you and Max busy, he turned to El.

“You think she likes me?” he asked, leaning toward her.

“Do you mean like like?” She stared at him with those big innocent eyes.

He nodded.

“I think so.”

“You think so? She hasn’t said anything to you or Max? Girls talk about that stuff at girls' night, right?” He bit his cheek. Was he reading the signs wrong? Were his feelings clouding his judgment?

Since his recovery, you’ve always been there. You made sure he took care of himself and kept an eye on Max. When he told you about the rundown little place he found, you got Hopper on board to pull a few strings and help remodel. Hell, you got everyone to help.

He still remembered the day you painted the walls, and you and Robin put handprints on each other's chests. He and Steve had said, “What about us,” and you and Robin fitted them with their own set. He still had that shirt.

Even the shit that went down with Steve. You were somehow able to mend things between them. It took a lot of work, and arguments popped up, but with you there, he did it. He didn’t have many friends at Hawkins High—they were a means to an end. However, now? He had ones that would have his back in an apocalyptic world. And it was because of you.

You were his rock, even if you didn’t know it. And he wanted to be that person for you.

“She doesn’t tell us,” El said. “But she looks at you the way Nancy looks at Jonathan.”

He knew the look she was talking about, and he hoped she was right.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You…You like her, right?” she asked tentatively.

He smiled fondly. “More than Eggos.”

El giggled.

He shook his head slightly, smile remaining, mumbling, “Just want her ‘round all the time.”

She beamed, but before she could say another word, you and Max returned.

—

Everyone seemed to forget about the conversation before the phone rang. When you came out of the bathroom, El asked if you could start watching movies, and Max quickly put The Karate Kid in.

What surprised you the most was Billy making popcorn and bringing everyone a soda. You thought he’d retreat to his room like he usually did, but he sat next to you on the couch as the girls spread out on the floor with their own bowl of popcorn.

Halfway through the movie, the sun had set, and the air grew cooler. You rubbed your arm absentmindedly, focused on the screen. You vaguely noticed Billy disappearing somewhere, and when he returned, he held a sweatshirt.

Your heart sped up a little at his offer.

You played it off and raised an eyebrow when he handed it to you.

“You’re cold, right,” he asked, putting it in your lap when you didn’t take it right away.

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I’m just shocked you own a sweatshirt.”

He rolled his eyes but held back a smile. “Very funny.” Then when he was settled. “Indiana’s fucking cold.”

You slipped it over your head, the material warming and engulfing you in his scent. Bunching the sleeves into your fists, you leaned against the cushion and tucked your legs under you.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The movie soon ended, and Max inserted the second film.

Neither you nor Billy spoke after that. It was…nice...being there with him.

Between him and his sweatshirt, you were surrounded by warmth. The noise from the TV lulled into the background, and before you knew it, you were asleep.

Billy noticed almost immediately. He’d been arguing with himself about whether to put an arm around you after he gave you his hoodie.

After the shit he went through, Billy didn’t go after women. He was so in his head about what he’d done—what the monster made him do—he thought everyone was better off if he stayed away. And his body wasn’t the same afterward. Part of him wondered if you’d recoil if he touched you.

And then your head was on his shoulder. Your soft breathing in his ear. And he froze for a second. But then he sunk into you.

If this was the only time you’d be this close to him, he would take it.

He carefully moved his arm to pull you closer, and you shifted in your sleep to snuggle into him. He let his cheek rest against your head for one…two…three…four…five seconds, then lifted back up. He didn’t want Max or El to catch him and ask questions.

It wasn’t long until the movie ended, and the girls were passed out on the floor. And Billy debated staying right where he was, but he knew he shouldn’t.

He did indulge and place a feather-light kiss on the crown of your head before laying you down and pulling a blanket over you. He did the same for El and Max. And once the VHS was safely back in its case, he walked to his room with a final look at you thrown over his shoulder.

—

When the rising sun hit your eyelids, all you wanted was to turn over and go back to sleep. The sizzle of a frying pan and the smell of pancakes made you sit up.

Billy was by the stove, waiting to flip them and keeping a watchful eye on the bacon.

“Smells good,” you whispered, mindful of the two sleeping girls. Billy’s sweatshirt protected you from the morning chill.

He glanced at you and quirked his lips up. “It’s almost ready.”

You gave him a small smile in return, and it took you a moment to realize he had never done this before. Dinner was one thing, but breakfast was entirely different.

“What brought this on?” you asked, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

He shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to impress you again.” He finally turned around to face you and crossed his arms, spatula in hand.

You let out a breathy laugh, looking down before eyeing the cooking pancakes.

“Don’t let them fold in on themselves when you flip them, and you’re golden,” you teased.

He raised a brow at you, turned around, and seamlessly flipped both over before setting the spatula down and facing you once more.

You held your hands up in surrender. “Consider me impressed.”

“Good.” He pulled a mug out of the cabinet for himself. “You sleep okay?”

You shrugged. “Good enough. Didn’t even realize I fell asleep.”

He would have gladly lent you his bed. He didn’t even need to be in it with you. He would’ve taken the small couch he had crammed in his room.

“Good thing you don’t snore. I think Max would’ve suffocated you,” he said.

You bumped your shoulder with his. “She likes me too much.”

You stared at each other for a moment. Something about Billy in the morning, with the soft light from the sun reflecting in his eyes and shading his hair, was almost breathtaking. He was relaxed, and you hoped it slowly became his new normal.

His eyes trailed down to your lips, and you swore you stopped breathing until you glanced away and saw the pancakes.

“Better watch before they burn,” you said, swallowing to rid yourself of your dry throat.

He had forgotten about them as he took you in. From your pajamas to your still-sleepy gaze and the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—you seemed so…at home here.

He tried to shake that thought as he plated breakfast and set it down at the kitchen table.

You could lean against the counter every morning, sipping coffee as he made you both breakfast. He’d peck your lips each time he passed you for something, and as he waited for things to finish cooking, he would wrap his arms around your shoulders and bury his nose in your hair. Your arms would tighten around his waist, and you’d both stand there, completely content as the warm rays filtered in.

Since last night, since El’s question, a spark had ignited within him. The flicker of…hope, something he hadn’t felt since…since…he didn’t even know when. You didn’t say you wanted him explicitly, but if El saw a connection between him and Dally, then maybe you did too. He couldn’t deny that he’d been a dick in the past. He was still trying to correct those mistakes. But where Dallas Winston had Johnny, Billy had…well…the closest he could think of was you.

And potentially having a life with you? That didn’t sound too bad. Not at all.

You sat across from one another. You could feel Billy’s eyes on you. When you glanced up from your breakfast, he gave you a smirk as if to say, “Impressed?”

You were about to speak, but he beat you to it.

“So, we didn’t finish our discussion last night.”

“Discussion?” You tilted your head.

He nodded and tried to keep his smug smirk at bay. “You into the bad boy type, sweetheart?”

Your eyes widened before you covered your face with your hand. “Didn’t the time for this pass?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “C’mon, tell me, what’s it about him that gets you goin’?”

You shook your head and attempted to suppress your smile. Even though this was embarrassing, you still found Billy cute.

“I’m not doing this with you and that dirty mind of yours. It’s too early. Besides, the girls are still sleeping,” you said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh please, Max used to hear me with girls.” He stated it like a fact, without pride or accomplishment in his voice.

“I know. She’s complained to me multiple times,” you said matter-of-factly.

He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing pink. It surprised you.

He shrugged as if to shake off his actions. “Guess Winston and I are different then.”

“That’s not such a bad thing.” You hoped your smile told him that it really wasn’t a bad thing—that you genuinely liked the person he was growing into—that you cared for him.

“Hope so,” he said softly, taking a bite.

You could’ve stayed there and stared at him for the rest of the day. His eyes were so blue, his hair still a bit messy, and he just looked…he just looked content.

You wanted to reach across the table, grab his hand, hold it between yours and trace each finger. Maybe he’d stop you by pulling your hand to his lips. Maybe, you’d follow with your own.

And as soon as that thought reared its head, Max and El strolled into the kitchen.

“You made pancakes?” Max’s face scrunched up.

“We have guests,” Billy said with a shrug. Like he was concerned with being a good host.

At least for you, he was.

“When has that forced you to do anything?” she asked, stacking her plate.

You locked eyes with Billy from across the table and smiled shyly.

—

“So, you coming here next week?” he asked, putting your bag in the backseat for you.

You shook your head. “It’s at mine next week. Parents are away for a few days. I was thinking of making it an all-weekend thing.”

He slowly nodded, disappointed he wouldn’t see you—only to drop Max off and pick her up.

“Just let me know when I can get the shitbird out of my hair.” It’s all he thought to say to hide his discontentment.

You pursed your lips. It was now or never. “Actually, I was thinking—if you weren’t too busy, maybe you could come over, too? I know it’s technically ‘girls' night,’ but…last night was really nice.”

He tried to keep his face neutral, make it seem like he wasn’t experiencing heart palpitations, but his smile couldn’t stay hidden. It made you immediately relax.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

The way he looked at you sent shivers up your spine and heat through your veins. It was like he couldn’t believe you were real. You’d never seen him have this warmth in his gaze. Like he’d happily follow you anywhere and listen to every word you said.

You returned his smile with a gentle one of your own. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly.

He really was beautiful in the sunlight. His skin full of its own sun. You were so close to each other earlier that you felt it radiating off him. It took everything in you not to rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle in.

He took a step forward, resting a hand on the roof of your car. “You gonna make me sleep on the floor at yours?”

You lightly bit your lip. And fuck, you were in for the best kind of trouble. “Depends on how much you impress me.”

“And what do I have to do to make that happen?” There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do.

You tried to repress your smile as you leaned to whisper in his ear. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips. He shivered when your breath hit his skin.

“You’ll have to figure it out.” You pulled back with a little smirk, and he let out a soft chuckle.

His gaze flitted from your eyes to your lips and back again. His hand came up to caress your cheek, grazing his thumb there.

“Not even a little hint?” he asked teasingly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You pushed your head further into his hand.

He hummed. “Guess you’re right. Have to earn it.”

You grinned. “I have complete faith in you.”

And even though you were both joking with each other, that meant more to him than he would ever admit. You believed in him. You had gotten to know him and helped him through the hardest parts of his life without even knowing it. He wanted to prove to you that trust wasn’t misplaced. That he deserved your patience, your kindness, your love.

Without another thought, he pulled you into his embrace. He held onto you like he was afraid to lose you—like you’d suddenly change your mind and not see him.

You could feel it in the way he held you. You struck something, something crucial, something he needed to hear. So, you hugged him back, smoothing your hand up and down his spine.

When you pulled away, you slipped your hand into his. “I should probably get going.”

He nodded. “Get home safe.”

“Thanks, Billy,” you said. “I’ll see you next week.”

Before you could step around him, he encircled your wrist gently and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” he said, a smirk slipping back onto his face.

You shook your head slightly as you climbed into your car, waving to him as you pulled out.

He stood there, watching you drive further away from him. And he knew you two were about to be much much closer.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove deserved better

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

Hellllo, I saw this post from you about the 141 with a reader with past sa, and I wanted to ask if you could do one where reader mentions something that happened to them, without realizing it was sa (pls with König, I just love him). I hope this is ok for you to write

Ooh that’s a good one! I love writing for him honestly!

tw: mentions of sexual assault, mild description but nothing graphic, trauma, comfort

König loves your voice. He especially loves all your stories of your life before him, all the highs and the lows, the victories and the pitfalls, and everything else in between. His favorite part of getting together with you, is learning about you. He just loves you so damn much.

So when you’re lying in bed with the TV playing and you’re curled up against him, head on his chest, gently tracing the skin of his pecs under your fingers, he’s in heaven. He’s indulging your guilty pleasure of watching trash TV, he could never understand these dating shows but he gets a laugh out of seeing you get so worked up about them and maybe he gets a little invested too.

“Ugh poor girl.” You sighed watching the couples argue, “I feel for her, my ex was the same way.”

“How do you mean?” He’s running his fingers over your arm, drawing figures absentmindedly,

“He was just kind of manipulative and gas-lighty, always got what he wanted.” You shrugged, “Like, he’d initiate things and I wouldn’t be interested or I’d be too tired and he’d still keep trying and we’d wind up doing it. Like I said always got his way.” You seemed nonchalant about what you said, so much so that it took him a second to process what you said.

And then König’s blood went cold and his feather touches slowed to a halt,

“Schatz…” he breathed, his heart starting to race, he wasn’t sure how to handle this new information. Were you aware and just putting on a brave face? Or…

“Don’t sweat it, Köni, for all his aggressive persuasion he was a shitty lover.” You chuckled, confused as to why he stopped stroking your skin, yet as the words came out of your mouth paired with his reaction, you started to wonder if you messed up.

“Liebling, is that true?” His voice was even as he continued rubbing your arm, he moved to sit up and brought you with him,

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I’m over that asshole anyway.”

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” He turned to face you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face

“About what, my ex?”

“About his ‘persuasiveness’.” His tone hardened as the word came out of his mouth, he’s not big on sugar coating, but this is delicate and should be handled carefully,

“Not really? I mean, I’ve mentioned it to a friend before but that’s about it.”

He watched you carefully, eyes tracking every centimeter of your face, watching, waiting for a reaction, waiting for a response.

“Why do you ask?”

He stayed silent, still watching you. Waiting for you to piece things together, waiting to catch you should you realize what you just said. He watched gears turning in your head but still you struggled, is it worth bringing this up and helping you realize it? Would it do more harm than good to protect you from the truth? He wondered if a part of you realized but you’re protecting yourself from the truth so it’s forcing your mind to stop from connecting the dots. Is he even equipped to deal with the fallout after you piece it together? Would it be worse to encourage you to speak to a professional?

“I’m just worried, liebling, what you’ve described isn’t exactly a good thing.” He hated picking and choosing his words so carefully, it only made his anxiety worse and he worries he wouldn’t be able to help you with how busy his own mind is. But for you, he’d do anything. Whether it’s choosing his words carefully, gently guiding you to a point of realization, or finding your ex and breaking every bone in his body.

“Well, yeah, I know that but…” and then it hit you, he watched your eyes widen as the gears all clicked into place, “it wasn’t like that, König. That’s different.”

“It really isn’t, schatz. I’m so sorry, but it’s not different at all.” His voice is so soft that you wouldn’t have heard him if you were so close. He pulled you in to sit on his lap, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly against his chest. He’s got your head tucked under his chin, one hand pressing your head against him, his fingers running through your hair,

“That’s not what happened.” Your voice was small as your own arms came up to wrap around his back, your body preparing you for the tears you were fighting to shed,

“It’s ok, liebling, I’ve got you. You’ll always be safe here.”

#konig x reader #könig modern warfare #konig #könig #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig call of duty #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod one shot

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xtra7s · 3 months

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N gets in a bit of trouble and Renee saves the day. Renee sees a bit into Y/Ns life beyond the act.

content: big warning for emotional abuse, manipulation, shit like that, drinking

word count: 2.9k+

masterlist | previous part

Renee's phone buzzed insistently, shattering the afternoon calm of her corner of the room. It was Adam, her manager, requesting an urgent meeting in his office. Curiosity gnawed at her as she navigated to the office, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Inside, she found Adam pacing, an uncharacteristic crease etched between his brows. Beside him, Y/N sat quietly, her usual vibrant energy subdued. Y/N's manager, Connie, stood ramrod straight, radiating tension.

"Renee, thanks for coming," Adam started, his voice strained. "This concerns Y/N. We want you guys to finish writing, but..." He hesitated, glancing at Connie for confirmation.

"There's been a…development," Connie interjected, her voice clipped. "An unexpected turn of events that could potentially cast a negative light on you and Y/N if not handled delicately."

Confusion washed over Renee. Y/N is known for her diva posts and witty replies but rarely courted controversy. "What happened?"

Connie cleared her throat. "Well did you know Y/N went out last night?"

A memory clicked in Renee's mind. She'd seen a photo Y/N posted, posing with a few other people outside of a club, holding a goofy grin on her face. "Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Well," Connie continued, a hint of exasperation in her voice, "turns out, Y/N here heard a guy talking about her friends, being –" she paused, her gaze flitting to Y/N, "Not very nice, and Y/N took it upon herself to shut him up."

Renee's brow furrowed. Y/N was passionate, that much was true but reckless? Unlikely.

As if reading her mind, Y/N spoke up, her voice surprisingly calm. "He was being an asshole running his mouth, I didn't do shit wrong."

Renee nodded in understanding. While Y/N was 'mainly' lighthearted, sometimes she gets intense. Renee would probably do the same thing.

Connie sighed. "Look, we appreciate your protectiveness, Y/N, but the backlash is getting intense. People are misinterpreting your intention, accusing you of just wanting to start a fight."

"So, what's the plan?" Renee asked, sensing the unspoken part of the conversation.

Adam leaned forward, his expression apologetic. "We need to do some damage control. Y/N will be taking a temporary break from social media for a few weeks. We'll have Y/N issue a statement clarifying her stance on it, and why it happened."

"But…" Y/N started, a flicker of protest in her eyes.

"It's for the best, Y/N," Connie interjected firmly. "This way, the heat dies down, and you can return with a clean slate."

Renee glanced between them, feeling the weight of the situation. While she understood the need for caution, she also knew Y/N thrived on engagement and connection. A forced hiatus might take a toll on her spirit.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind. "What if, instead of silence, we used this as an opportunity?"

The room fell silent, all eyes fixated on her.

"Y/N could still use her platform, but with a different focus," Renee explained. "Instead of social media, she could create educational content – blog posts, videos, you said he was being an asshole right? what was it about?"

Y/N shrugs, slumping in her chair. "He was being fucking racist, homophobic, whatever the fuck. I'm not just gonna sit there and let my friends feel bad about that shit, it was supposed to be a fun night."

Renee nods, leaning in on the table. "Exactly so post about that shit. Captions being about your experience, shitty people, talk about the fact that its the 21st fucking century and people like that shouldn't fucking exist anymore"

Adam and Connie exchanged surprised glances. The idea was unconventional, but it held merit. Y/N's passion and reach, coupled with her genuine concern, could create a positive impact far outweighing the initial controversy.

"It's…different," Connie admitted, her voice softening. "But it could work."

Y/N's eyes lit up, a spark of her usual fire returning. "I love it! It's a way to turn this around, and make a difference while still using my voice."

A wave of relief washed over Renee. With Adam's hesitant approval and Connie's cautious optimism, the plan was set. Y/N wouldn't be silenced; she would be redirected, her voice amplified for a different cause.

The meeting came to a close, and Renee took a leap of faith. "Hey, Y/N," she began, "how about we continue working on the song over dinner? Maybe grab a drink together?"

Y/N, surprised by the proposal, hesitated for a moment before responding, "I've got plans tonight with friends, but you can tag along if you want."

Renee, intrigued by the unexpected invitation, agreed.

Later that night, she found herself standing before Y/N, who looked radiant in a tight dress that shimmered like moonlight. Renee, true to her style, wore comfortable yet stylish pants and a top that showcased her confidence.

"Ready to get absolutely hammered?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Renee chuckled. "Always."

Renee couldn't help but be captivated by Y/N's presence. Her outfit was a perfect blend of chic and edgy, catching the play of lights in the club. The way Y/N carried herself spoke volumes – a mix of poise and a subtle hint of mischief. The club's atmosphere seemed to intensify with every step Y/N took.

Renee's eyes lingered on the way Y/N moved, effortlessly navigating through the crowd. The soft glow of the club lights accentuated the highlights in Y/N's hair, and the music seemed to harmonize with her every move. There was a magnetic quality to Y/N's presence that demanded attention, and Renee found herself unable to look away.

The Beat was alive with energy. Music vibrated through the air, pulsing with a rhythm that invited movement. Y/N led the way, greeting friends with warm hugs and introducing Renee with genuine enthusiasm.

The pulsating beat of the music echoed through the crowded club as Y/N and Renee navigated the lively atmosphere. Tonight was different – a blend of work and leisure as Y/N had invited Renee to join her and her friends. Among those friends was Y/N's boyfriend, someone Renee had heard about but never met.

As they approached the group, Y/N's smile widened. "Renee, meet Jake," she said, gesturing towards a man with a polite smile and slightly awkward demeanor.

"Hey, nice to finally meet you," Renee greeted, extending her hand. Jake shook it, his eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and uncertainty.

Throughout the night, Renee couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Jake. He seemed distant, his eyes often wandering, and his responses to Y/N's affection were lukewarm at best. As the trio conversed and shared laughter, Renee observed the couple, sensing an underlying tension.

At one point, Y/N excused herself to grab drinks, leaving Renee alone with Jake. An awkward silence hung in the air until Renee decided to break it.

"So, how long have you and Y/N been together?" she asked, trying to initiate a casual conversation.

Jake hesitated, his eyes darting around as if searching for the right words. "A few months, I think." he replied shortly, avoiding direct eye contact.

Renee's instincts heightened, and she couldn't ignore the unease settling in the pit of her stomach. Y/N returned, handing them their drinks, but the atmosphere remained strained.

As the night progressed, Renee couldn't shake the feeling that Jake was hiding something. His behavior became more erratic, and he seemed increasingly uncomfortable in Renee's presence. Observing this, Renee grew concerned for her friend, unsure whether to address the issue or wait for Y/N to bring it up herself.

Despite initial nerves, Renee quickly found herself swept up in the welcoming atmosphere. Y/N's friends were diverse and accepting, and their energy was contagious. Soon, laughter and conversation flowed freely, forging new connections between them.

The club's vibrant lights danced over the energetic crowd, and the music reverberated through the air as Y/N, Renee, and their friends enjoyed the night. However, things took an unexpected turn when Y/N's boyfriend, Jake, abruptly pulled her away from the group, a few tables down.

Renee couldn't help but notice the sudden change in Jake's demeanor. His face wore an expression of hostility, and as Renee discreetly observed from a distance, she sensed tension building between the couple.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Renee discreetly made her way closer to the commotion, keeping a safe distance but close enough to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Why do you always have to hang out with her?" Jake's voice carried a harsh edge, his frustration palpable.

Y/N, clearly caught off guard, tried to maintain composure. "Renee? She's just a friend. What's the problem?"

Jake's eyes flashed with anger, and he gestured toward the friend group. "I can't stand being around her. It feels like a threat. Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?"

Y/N, bewildered and defensive, responded, "Jake, she's just a colleague. We're working on a project together. It's not personal."

Renee, hidden in the shadows, felt a mix of concern and disbelief. She hadn't anticipated the depth of Jake's unease, and the scene unfolding before her raised alarm bells.

As Jake's voice grew louder, Renee debated whether to intervene or give Y/N some space. Before she could decide, Y/N's eyes met hers, a mixture of embarrassment and helplessness written across her face.

Renee chose to step in, approaching them calmly. "Everything okay here?" she asked, injecting a hint of hostility into her voice.

Jake shot her a venomous look, his anger directed toward Renee. "Mind your own business, Rapp. We're fine here."

Y/N, caught in the crossfire, attempted to mediate. "Guys, let's calm down. Renee, it's fine. We'll talk later."

As Renee reluctantly retreated, she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that Y/N's relationship had taken an unexpected and troubling turn. The strained atmosphere lingered in the air, leaving Renee grappling with the realization that the music of the night had unexpectedly hit a dissonant note.

Trying to shake off the uncomfortable encounter with Jake, Y/N made her way to the bar, seeking solace in the rhythmic beats and the clinking of glasses. The dimly lit ambiance offered a momentary escape as she took a few sips, trying to drown the unease that lingered from the heated conversation.

Determined to salvage the night, Y/N joined her friends on the dance floor. The pulsating music enveloped them, creating a temporary sanctuary where worries could be momentarily forgotten. However, the tension from earlier still loomed in the back of Y/N's mind.

After a few energetic dance routines, Y/N decided to face the lingering issue. She approached Renee, who was now chatting with another friend and pulled her aside, away from the pulsating beats.

"Hey, Renee," Y/N began, attempting to sound nonchalant. "I just wanted to let you know I'm heading out with Jake. It's been a weird night, but I hope you enjoy the rest of it."

Renee, sensing the underlying tension, nodded and offered a supportive smile. "Sure thing, Y/N. Be safe, we'll catch up soon."

As Y/N disappeared into the crowd with Jake, Renee couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. The club's lively atmosphere continued around her, but a sense of unease lingered. Renee wished Y/N well silently, hoping that whatever turmoil existed in Y/N's relationship would find resolution.

With a sigh, Renee turned back to the dance floor, determined to immerse herself in the music and the joy of the night. Yet, in the midst of the celebration, a lingering concern for her friend colored the remainder of the evening. The dance floor pulsed with energy, but Renee couldn't shake the feeling that the night had taken an unexpected turn, leaving a discordant note in the air.

The night stretched into the early hours as Y/N and Jake returned to her house, the once vibrant energy of the club replaced by an unsettling tension. As they stepped through the door, the atmosphere shifted, and Jake's demeanor darkened.

Without warning, Jake started a fight, his words cutting through the air like shards of glass. He criticized Y/N for spending time with Renee, accusing her of purposely making him uncomfortable. Y/N, taken aback by the sudden escalation, attempted to defuse the situation.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," Y/N pleaded, her voice quivering with confusion. "Renee is just a friend, and tonight was supposed to be fun."

Jake's response was cold and manipulative. "You're always so sensitive. Can't you handle a little criticism? Maybe if you weren't so emotional, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

As the argument intensified, Y/N's attempts to reason with Jake only seemed to fuel his anger. He twisted the situation, placing the blame squarely on Y/N's shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the weight of the conversation.

"You're the one overreacting, Y/N. This is all in your head," Jake sneered, dismissively waving off her tears. "Stop being so sensitive, we wouldn't have these problems."

Y/N, overwhelmed and emotionally drained, couldn't comprehend the sudden turn of events. She felt trapped in a web of manipulation, her attempts to communicate met with hostility and blame-shifting. The tears fell freely now, a mix of frustration and heartache.

As the night wore on, the toxicity of the situation lingered in the air. Y/N's home, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battleground of emotions. Jake's manipulative tactics had left scars on the night, and Y/N found herself questioning the foundation of her relationship.

In the quiet aftermath, Y/N was left to grapple with the emotional aftermath of the night, hoping for clarity and resolution in the days to come. The echoes of Jake's harsh words lingered, a painful reminder that sometimes the deepest wounds come not from external forces but from those we hold closest.

In the hushed aftermath of the argument, Jake's anger continued to cast a shadow over the room. Y/N, emotionally drained and vulnerable, found herself on the receiving end of a twisted attempt at reconciliation.

With a feigned sense of remorse, Jake approached Y/N and gently touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to ruin our night," he said, his voice laced with insincerity.

Y/N, still raw from the earlier confrontation, hesitated but yearned for a semblance of normalcy. As Jake leaned in, he pressed a kiss against her forehead, attempting to use physical intimacy to mend the emotional wounds he had inflicted.

"Let's just go to bed, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow," Jake suggested his words designed to manipulate Y/N into submission.

Caught in the confusing web of emotions, Y/N reluctantly agreed. The facade of normalcy seemed appealing, and the exhaustion from the night's events weighed heavily on her. As they lay in bed, a palpable tension lingered in the air, overshadowing any sense of true reconciliation.

Jake's actions, though masked in the guise of apology, left Y/N grappling with the unsettling feeling that something fundamental in their relationship had shifted. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a silent battleground where emotions were suppressed and genuine connection eluded them.

As she changed into her pajamas, Y/N's phone buzzed on the nightstand. With a curious glance, she saw a message from Renee.

Renee: Hey, you okay?"

Renee's message felt like a lifeline in the midst of the emotional storm. Gratitude washed over Y/N as she replied,

Y/N: Hey, thank you for checking in. I'm fine."

In the quiet darkness, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging doubt that this night would leave an indelible mark on her perception of Jake and their relationship. As sleep claimed the world around them, Y/N lay in the stillness, contemplating the complexities of love and the blurred lines between sincerity and manipulation.

As Y/N lay in bed beside Jake, her mind refused to be silent. The events of the evening replayed like a relentless loop, casting shadows over her thoughts. As she stared into the darkness, her mind involuntarily shifted towards Renee.

The contrast between Jake's manipulative behavior and Renee's genuine concern became starkly apparent. Y/N couldn't help but imagine how different it would be if Renee were in Jake's place – a realization that weighed on her heart.

Renee, with her kindness, understanding, and the support she offered earlier, seemed like a beacon of comfort in comparison to the storm that had engulfed her night with Jake. Y/N began to entertain the idea of how Renee, with her genuine nature, would be a far better partner, someone who valued communication and mutual respect.

In the quiet of her thoughts, Y/N couldn't help but imagine a relationship where trust was the foundation and where vulnerability wasn't met with manipulation. The idea of being with someone who cared for her well-being, as Renee had demonstrated, felt like a balm to the wounds inflicted by the tumultuous night.

As the night lingered on, Y/N found herself caught between the reality of her current situation and the fantasy of what a healthier, more genuine relationship could be. In the gentle embrace of these thoughts, sleep slowly claimed her, carrying with it a dream of a connection that transcended the toxic dynamics that had tainted her evening.

#renee rapp x reader #lesbian #wlw #the sex lives of college girls #renee rapp #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #lgbtq #mean girls

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sugarlywhispers · 4 months

Text

the fall | b.katsuki - prohero!reader goes undercover

☆– warnings; heart breaking ANGST, a bit of comfort, not a happy ending or well, it is, just not the one you expect, vulnerable!Bakugou Katsuki.

☆– a.n; i don’t know how many times i have deleted, rewritten, deleted again and rewritten again this piece lmao i consider it a win the fact that i just finished it xD also, i don't know if this will have a continuation… thou there’s a high chance that it does because i loved the way it ended lol enjoy <3

If Bakugou Katsuki could be properly honest he would openly admit that being a Pro Hero sucked , approximately eight times out of ten. Mostly it wasn't for the times injuries went worse than expected or felt worse as time progressed and the getting old finally settled in the bones. If he could be entirely open about it, the worst part was when a hero had to take undercover work.

Bakugou hates it. He hates it so much, he could quit. And that was a realization that unsettled him, because this was what he had dreamt about since he was a shitty brat kid: kick shitty villains asses from left to right.

But he got to actually accept and admit this particular annoying, and again, shitty fact, his resentment about that specific part of the job, when it was your turn. When you had to go undercover, and so deep into it, that it had been two years… two fucking years, since he got any news about you.

How fucking dared you. He was–is your best friend, right? Then why not send him even a simple 'I'm okay, still alive' message. Not even a quick phone call where he could at least hear your breathing; he would know it's you, because he knew everything about you. Well–not everything as he would like to. But he was your friend, you had confided in him plenty of times, you had been his partner since you were a little brat from UA doing your internship and he was the newbie Hero in charge of you. You have been through good and shit together. Was it too difficult to just let him know you were fine, fucking alive? Were your new surroundings too dangerous for you to not give any signs of life to any of your friends? If it was dangerous, why the fuck haven't him, or Red Riot or even shitty Deku, been sent to help you?!

Bakugou took another deep breath, face laying over the stinky bar table, hand holding a glass of something he couldn't fucking remember Ejirou said it was. Probably a shot of tequila with lemonade, given the strong flavor in his mouth. Fuck, he wished it was something way more stronger, like firewisky or some shit like that.

"Mina was right. You do look like trash," shitty hair smiled, knowingly and even mockingly at him, which infuriated Katsuki more.

"Shut up, ass." He wasn't drunk, but he wished he was. Katsuki couldn't get drunk because he had patrols to run that same night, he was not an irresponsible asshole, no matter what and no matter who.

But he did wish he could drink himself to sleep. He hadn't been sleeping quite well lately– or more like over two fucking years. Katsuki sighs. He knows he is exaggerating. He knows you. You don't need him to worry about you, you can definitely take care of yourself and he has witnessed how capable you are of it plenty of times already. Damn, you once even kicked his ass for being a jerk– he won't admit it, but that was the day he actually started seeing you more than just a friend. Coincidentally, it was three days before you had to go undercover. What a bitch of luck.

"Todoroki said they were going to scout some of us to go look after her," that brought Bakugou's attention back, sitting up straight and looking directly at his best friend's serious expression on his face.

"I'm in."

Kirishima sighs, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Fuck you. I'm going..." Katsuki begins his protest but Ejirou doesn't let him continue.

"Katsuki!" Both friends look at each other's eyes for a moment without saying anything. Until Kirishima confirms out loud, "You love her."

The blond stays silent, not admitting or denying it, looking at his best friend's eyes that turned completely professional and determining.

"I will go." He presses firmly and with no room open for discussion, which makes Kirishima sigh.

The red head looks down at the glass he is holding with his drink, a cocktail that had a bit of ron and orange juice, as he plays for a moment with his fingers around it. He takes a sip of it, and after he puts the glass back on the table, he looks back at Katsuki's eyes and says, "I'm not here to invite you to go. I'm just being your fucking best friend in letting you know about this."

Bakugou growls looking elsewhere but his best friend, annoyed that he lost the discussion. He knows by Kirishima's stance and words he is not fucking going, and it innervates him.

He really doesn't want to think about it now. He doesn't want to think about you . He doesn't want to worry yet all he does is worry . For you. For your wellbeing. For the situations you probably have gone through, alone. Not with him around to take every blast he could for you. Not with him to kick some sense in that stubborn head of yours, and vice-versa.

Fuck. He worries so fucking much it is already affecting his head, his performance in battles, his everything. Katsuki had even taken more work than he should trying to keep his mind busy to not think about you.

Kirishima knows. He had known all the bullshit Katsuki was building up inside him for a while now. He always knew when something was off with his best friend. So he invited him to have some light drinks so they could talk a bit, even though that is the least thing Bakugou would ever do. Especially about his feelings. However, Kirishima knows. He has always known.

And he was not letting his friend alone to drown in his feelings.

Bakugou looks at his friend when he feels his hand grab his shoulder. The intensity in Ejirou's eyes makes Katsuki's throat tighten.

"I will bring her back."

"I'm-..."

The explosion makes the ground tremble, and it was enough to sober Bakugou and Kirishima up.

They don't hesitate to run out of the bar and towards the place where it came, where also everyone seemed to run away from. It took them less than three minutes to arrive and both of them sigh in relief when they see they aren't the only heroes at the scene, as even Deku was already there in his costume, holding at least four villains under him. Uravity was close, she had at least ten floating in the air with her Quirk, and was setting one by one on the ground again as another hero would catch and restrain them, before guiding them towards the police cars. The scene is pretty much under control, so that makes Katsuki relax a bit.

Ejirou moves to action, offering help wherever he could. Him and Katsuki walk towards Deku, helping him with the four under him that are struggling forcefully.

Deku smiles thankfully to his friends.

"There's the bitch," says the one Ejirou is holding from the back of his shirt.

"She's fucking dead," threatens the one Katsuki is holding, which makes him angrily manhandle the scum.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Fuck you, hero!"

Katsuki doesn't have time nor the patience for this, so he doesn't care when he pushes the villain inside the car way more forcefully than he should.

Deku comes running to them as the cars take their way, and he says hopefully, "Have you seen Y/N?"

Katsuki's entire being ignites at the mention of your name. The thought of just seeing you again makes something move inside his gut that is annoyingly satisfying.

"She's back?" Katsuki hates how hopeful his own voice sounded.

"Y-yes?" Izuku frowns, "Wait, you didn't know?" He looks at both friends perplexed.

"Know what?" Ejirou asks this time.

Izuku sighs. "This villain group was a big one that settled in America, where Y/N went undercover. They were planning to attack this base intending to rob the machine that scientists were creating that apparently could send someone to the past. This group wanted to go back in time to erase the source of Quirks, so they could control everything."

An unpleasant chill went down Katsuki's back.

"Y/N has been undercover all this time, working and proving herself so she could get in… She even got in the higher ranks so they would trust her and she could fakely guide them here, where there's nothing but a handful of heroes hiding in this abandoned building ready to catch them."

Deku sounds proud, which Katsuki could comprehend. Not that he would admit that out loud. But wait, that means…

"How do you know this?"

"She hasn't been in contact directly with me, Kacchan, but my agency has been in this case since the beginning and there were loops where she could send information. She couldn't be close to anything or anyone from here or she could have been in a huge danger. But one of my sidekicks has also been undercover with her. He was the loop. From what he told us, she climbed very high; with a Quirk like hers, I'm not surprised she was the only strongest in there. I wonder if-..." Deku went on and on with his mumbling in fascination with Quirks.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. He really doesn't have time to listen to him. He wants to find you, so he simply walks away in search of you.

Two years. It had been two years.

He ends up running towards the entrance of the building, looking around, eyes searching desperately for a sight of you. Heroes and villains around made it a bit difficult, coming and going, running and catching.

Until he finally sees you at a distance.

You are standing there, on the side of the scene, watching as every villain gets taken by some hero and put into custody of the police. The wind around is making your hair float to the side. You have dyed its color, which makes Katsuki think that no matter the color, you still look beautiful. You are beautiful, end of sentence.

But the expression on your face isn't the one of a Hero enjoying victory.

The villains were shouting stuff, and it isn't until he actually pays attention to what they are saying that makes him groan in anger. Why? Because they were shouting swears and threats at you.

And you simply stand there, not responding and receiving everything they throw at you. That makes Katsuki frown. You have never been that cold, that quiet against villains. Where was your fire? Your hatred towards those scumbags-good-for-nothing?

But then your head faced forward, in the direction towards where he was standing. Bakugou's entire being is shaking in anticipation, hoping, thriving for this reunion. Then he sees your eyes. Eyes that were colder than ice. Eyes that showed only a glance of how broken your soul was. And it hurts Katsuki's own heart to see you like that.

Your eyes didn't seem to recognize him at first. Like you were seeing a very distant and almost forgotten thought, a memory that had been pushed to the deepest part of your mind and now just watching him made your brain hurt while trying to figure out the memory.

You then realize it's him , your eyebrows shooting up in surprise and you smile slightly. A smile that doesn't reach your eyes. It is the kind of smile that means "cool to see you, but not very happy about it".

Your eyes go back to the scene, smile wiped from your face and the stoic, cold expression back on your whole being.

"It's The Fall," Deku suddenly appeared next to Katsuki, making the blond jump a little, which he faked it like he was just changing the weight of his body from one foot to the other.

"The fucking what?" Katsuki asks, a bit pissed that he got caught off guard.

"The Fall. When heroes go undercover, they have to pretend to be somebody else," Katsuki rolls his eyes exasperated.

"I fucking know what undercover means, Deku."

"You're not listening, Kacchan!" Deku turns to him, looking quite serious. "The Fall happens when the hero has to return, has to stop pretending to be someone else. And then, they find themselves with the question of whether whomever they were pretending to be was their real self or not."

Katsuki gulps. "I didn't-..."

"Of course you didn't, Kacchan. You have always been you. Fight or die. Hell, I even didn't, because I have always only wanted to be a Hero. But not everyone-..."

"Oh fuck," the blond swears, finally realizing.

You are in a limbo. In trying to remember who you were, who you are and not; what you should do and not. The Fall was winning over you, as you suddenly moved to help a woman that apparently was on your villain team.

Katsuki doesn't waste time. He runs towards you, picking you up by the waist and walking away from the scene, towards the small alley next to the building, as Deku recaptures the other woman.

"Y/N!" He tries to reason with you as you start to kick him, arms and legs swinging in the air to try and catch him, hit him with all your might. "It's me! It's Bakugou! Katsuki!" You are screaming, not stopping to struggle, as he drags you away from everyone that could see.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU FUCKING HERO –..."

You stop every movement and scream as you realize what you just said. He finally gets to circle his arms around your chest, yours trapped under his big ones. Katsuki is breathing heavily. Fuck, he had forgotten how strong you could get.

"Hero," he repeats in your ear as you settle and relax a bit in his arms. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms holding you strongly. "I'm a Hero, Dynamight, Ground Zero," he said, "Great Explosion Murder God," he tries to joke, his throat tight and almost closed with emotions he was trying to hold back –this is not the moment for them–, saying whatever he could to help your memory remember him, "It's me, Y/N, Katsuki … Your 'Tsuki."

Sillence. Only your rapid intakes of breaths are heard between you two. Still, he doesn't dare to let you go. He feels like if he does, you will slip from in between his fingers like liquid, droplets of water impossible to tame or hold back. If he let you go, you are going to fucking disappear, like smoke impossible to catch, and fly very far away from him to never return.

Bakugou Katsuki is not willing to lose you again.

Your body starts to tremble as you sob, as you cry with all your might in Katsuki's arms. And his heart breaks for you.

"Shh , it's okay. I've got you, love. I'm here…" He soothes you, hands and arms holding you tight against his chest as you cry loudly. His hands start to caress the skin of your arms as he kept whispering into your ear.

Your cries are so intense and painful to hear for him, breaking every piece of his heart for you. He can feel your legs giving up, so he kneels with you on the dirty ground, not letting you go from his arms for even a second.

You suddenly turn in his arms, facing him. Yours surround Katsuki's neck and you hug him strongly, " Katsuki," you cry in his neck, and he wishes he was able to physically take the pain you're feeling right now and throw it very far away. Or even if he had the choice to trade it with you, he would. He would carry your pain, your sorrows, your everything, for you.

"I'm here. I'm here," he repeats as you cry, softly caressing your back with his hands.

Katsuki doesn't know how much time you waited there –now sitting on the ground, his back against a wall while you sat all curled up against his chest and in between his legs– but he notices everything is done and over when Deku peeks from a corner, holding his thumb up in sign that probably everyone had gone from the place. The blond nods, and Deku takes that as a sign that he could get close. His movements slow, careful to not startle you, put you still tense in Bakugou's arms when you hear footsteps.

"It's Izuku, love." Katsuki doesn't know where he learnt to be this careful and cozy with people, he thinks it's your fault. You have been the one who taught him so many things, that it actually doesn't surprise him when his big ass hands caress carefully and softly your head, reassuring you on that touch that it's okay to let go of him a bit. "Midoriya Izuku?" He tries his friend's real name, the one name he is sure you would be glad to hear–apart from his. But you simply respond by grabbing Katsuki harder, not letting go. "Hero Deku? Or… shitty Deku," he feels his chest puff in satisfaction when you try to hide your smile against his chest.

"Ha. Ha. Funny Kacchan…" Deku says, sitting on the ground right in front of you. Very different from you, Katsuki can not hide his own smile –not that he would even try to, which makes Deku roll his eyes and also smile. "How are you feeling, Y/N-chan?"

You exhale deeply; the long, tired sigh being answer enough, but you still say, "Like… all of this is a dream. Everything feels… surreal .” You gulp, finally pulling away a bit from Katsuki. He simply let you, hand still caressing your back in confort. “Like I’ll wake up any moment and be laying on the mattress on the floor in that one room apartment I live–used to… live.”

They both notice your slip as you frown and slide a hand through your lock in a clear frustrated sign.

“I don’t know… what’s fact and what’s fake anymore… I…” The tears fill your eyes once again, your hand now grabbing the beginning of your hair. Katsuki immediately grabs your wrist trying to make you let go. “I feel angry and sad… I feel devastated by what happened… But I also feel relief, and– I don’t know what’s the correct way to feel. I don’t fucking know who I am anymore!”

Katsuki hugs you again, rocking from side to side and hushing, whispering that everything is going to be okay.

He feels Izuku’s eyes on him, on both of you. And even if the fucker hasn’t said anything yet, Bakugou knows. FUCK. He fucking knows what his best friend is going to do. So he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Fighting his own tears back.

But he can’t hold them longer after he opens them and sees Aizawa standing at a distance. Waiting patiently. Katsuki hugs you tighter.

“Y/N-chan…” Izuku says, his gloved hand pressing on your shoulder to get your attention. “You need help. Until everything settles back into you, you need someone that can help you with this. Do we agree?”

You nod, crying and sniffing as you pull away again, and this time is Katsuki’s turn to not want to let you go. His arms grab you stronger for a moment as he hides his face on your neck.

He doesn’t want to let you go. He just got you back. He has so much to say and do and prove. He doesn’t fucking want to let you go again.

Katsuki is in denial, he knows. And he also knows he is the most selfish bastard alive for not wanting to let you go so you can properly heal. But everything he has gone, without you, and now having a little taste of getting you back, whether that be even half of you… FUCK! He definitely sounds like the most egotistic, selfish motherfucker of all.

When he’s about to finally let you go, he feels your hand tangle in the back of his head in his hair. And when his eyes find yours, he sees it. He sees the need you have of him, the sadness, the joy, the kindness, everything… He sees the want, the care, the despair . So many emotions it’s even difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

And he sees it. The love…

“If there's something I haven’t forgotten is how I feel about you. But you don't deserve the me of right now…” He shakes his head in denial, his hands holding your face and cleaning your tears with his thumbs. “I will get better… I will come back for you.”

You smile at him, and a simple action hasn't hurt so much as this. Like someone stabbed him with a knife on his chest, right where his heart is. And he’s left there, bleeding towards his death as you caress his cheek delicately one more time and stand up and walk crying towards your old teacher.

Katsuki knows it is for your health and wellbeing, but who’s going to convince his heart that this isn’t again the last time he sees you? That you will come back, that you will look for him in your return.

He brings his knees towards his chest, arms hugging them and hiding his face there. And Katsuki cries. Like a child.

He feels Izuku’s movement to sit next to him as one of his arms surround his shoulder, and he has never been grateful enough to the nerd for being the fucking best friend he has ever had.

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t look at you parting, walking away from him. He can’t.

But he wishes he had.

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highvern · 2 months

Text

Secret Games

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x f!reader

Genre: angst, smut, 18+

Warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, penetrative sex, toxic relationship

Length: 1.7k

Note: i cried writing this. the most toxic piece ive ever written but sometimes fic is the best place to work out issues lmao. originally inspired by girlfriend - avril lavigne but i took it and made it a lot worse. thank you @gyuswhore for being the best beta in the world

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Vernon is convinced the entire universe is playing a practical joke on him. It has to be. Vernon would never cheat on his girlfriend, wouldn’t even entertain the idea, and if someone told him a month ago he’d be where he is now, he’d take them to the hospital for a CT scan.

But a month ago he hadn’t met you, and now Vernon feels like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth.

He loves Olivia. She’s his soulmate, his favorite person, the girl he told his mom was the one since they started dating when he was a junior in college. Four years together and never once did he question if she was the person he wanted to be with.

Until you.

The only person to blame was himself. Getting caught up in the attention of the newest addition to the friend group, failing to ignore longing looks or sideways glances, reacting to your not so subtle touches. It didn’t matter if his girlfriend was sitting in his lap or she was nowhere to be seen, you seemed to zero in on him the moment you entered the room.

From the first night in the smoky club, you had him in the palm of your hand. Dancing on another man while your eyes never left his. Watching him over the mystery man's shoulder, while Olivia pressed her front to his. Pretended the body under his palms belonged to you, the lips pressed to his neck were yours.

Something passed between you two that night and since then every waking moment of Vernon’s existence revolved around how shitty of a boyfriend he became when put to the test.

But he’d been better lately. Avoiding nights out where you might be lurking, urging his girlfriend to have as many girls’ nights as she wants, hoping she might be slipping the same way he was. But Olivia didn’t look at anyone the way she looked at him. She’d never betray him, never think twice about another man even when they flirt with her out in the open like her boyfriend isn’t sitting right next to her.

That knowledge only makes the truth harder to swallow.

The beginning of the end starts in a small hall closet at Soonyoung’s apartment. Everyone came over to celebrate his recent promotion. Several rounds of drinks later, the subject of celebration insisted in a game of hide and seek. There weren't many options to hide almost twenty bodies but alcohol has a way of soothing practical concerns.

Mingyu’s voice boomed through the apartment, jumping into action immediately and sending bodies scurrying for cover.

Vernon pulled the closet door tight, praying Jun’s attempt to hide behind a lamp and Jeonghan half sticking out from under the couch would buy him enough time to avoid capture.

He could still hear the older man counting when the door opened. A sliver of light cuts across his eyes, casting the body pressing into the space in shadow. For a split second he thinks its his girlfriend, already laughing with childish glee at being so close.

But then Vernon realizes the person pushing in is you.

“Ready or not!”

Vernon tries to move back as far as he can into the wall but the bite of the shelves into his spine prevent more than a few inches of space between you. The door barely manages to click shut in time for footsteps to trample by, Mingyu’s laughter bleeding through the wood.

In the darkness, Vernon finds a sudden awareness of your body. The roar of blood in his ears does little to drown out the sound of your breathing. Painfully measured breaths that stop every time someone shuffles by on the other side of the door. The heat radiating off your back across the inch of space between your bodies, a ghost of the real thing.

A loud bang makes you both jump, and with the limited space you end up in flat against Vernon’s chest, his arms around your waist to steady you. He knows you can feel his heart pounding. Not from being caught in such a silly game but from the proximity of your ass to his crotch; bodies firmly suctioned against one another.

He tries not to react when you wiggle against him in an attempt to create more space. Vernon is desperate for you to ignore the hard curve of his pants, rising with each movement, each inhale of your perfume.

“Vernon?” you call. “I said you're stepping on my foot.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“Wait, let me just,” you whisper back.

At that moment, all of his defenses crumble. Chest to chest, your breath brushing against his ear, Vernon knows it’s futile to fight what he’s feeling. Your hands skating down his chest confirm it, rocketing his heart into a tailspin.

He wants you.

And the way you look up at him, with lazy blinks and a drunk smile, tells Vernon you want him too.

A flush makes its way up his neck and he’s thankful for the darkness you're both absorbed in. The thought of all the others beyond the space you two occupy isn’t a blip in his mind. Vernon doesn’t want you to see what an obvious effect you have on him; even if the evidence is digging into the softness of your stomach.

A pass of your lips against his jaw scorches the flesh. Barely a second of contact; simple, chaste. But the imprint will stain his consciousness forever. Each lave of your tongue against the column of his throat forces him deeper into the pits of hell.

The sting of our teeth precedes an airy whine, “Vernon.”

His head drops back at the sound of his name on your tongue again. He wants to taste, to suck the words out of your mouth while his hands force it from your lips over and over again.

Just as he’s about to, the door knob jiggles.

“Y/N, Vernon! We know you’re in there! We caught everyone else.”

Splitting apart, the warm light from the hall floods the tight space. Stumbling out, Vernon shoulders past you, past his friends, to where Olivia is waiting with a knowing gaze. He can’t look at her. Can’t look at his friends all laughing drunkenly, declaring you the winner

Despite the look of absolute disappointment Olivia appraises him with, she doesn’t object when his hand circles her wrist and Vernon tugs her through the front door.

—

Vernon tries to bury what he felt in that closet in his girlfriend’s body. Tries to remember how much he loves her, wants to be with her.

Neither of them seem to be fully present. He can feel it in her body, the way she stiffens under his hands like they freeze her muscles solid. The rasps of Olivia’s half hearted moans churn his stomach, tying knots over and over again until he thinks he might be sick.

They’ve been knocked off their axis by something, someone. The practiced ease of their bodies is nowhere to be found. She’s a step ahead and he’s a step behind but rather than stop and talk about it like they usually do, they both press forward as if it’s normal.

Who they’re pretending for, Vernon has no idea. Each other? Themselves? All the people who’ve watched their relationship bloom over the years? It doesn’t matter. He can feel years of love turning to dust and he can’t bare to watch.

Thoughts of you break the dam in his mind. How you felt under his hands, your lips against his skin, how you’d taste on his tongue. What sounds you’d make if no one interrupted what was just over the edge in the closet.

The mirage of you, head thrown back in bliss as you take his cock rockets him to the end. Eyes cinched shut, imagination running rampant. It’s you underneath him, skin sticking to his, nails raking down his spine. It’s the smell of your shampoo still lingering in his nose as he buries his face in Olivia’s neck and loses himself in the motions.

Vernon doesn’t realize he cums with your name on his lips until Olivia’s sobs reach his ears.

–

You shudder against the freezing wind, puffs of smoke washing away as soon as they exit your nostrils. A bile of shame and regret burns the back of your throat; something not even the sting of liquor is able to drive away. But that won’t stop you from drinking straight from the bottle you nabbed from Mingyu’s hand before running outside.

Maybe it's the weed or the booze but you’ve never felt so empty. A bitter hollowness, rotting you to the core. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, prickling in the frigid winter air. The cacophony of street noise falls on deaf ears as you replay the events filling you with misery.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Flirting with Vernon had been Olivia’s idea. A friend helping a friend. She wanted to test his loyalty. Begged you to help her assuage her doubts about their relationship. Vernon’s lack of reassurance, her belief that he’d leave her for someone else. All you were supposed to do was smile and make bedroom eyes and see if he’d cave. When that didn’t work, she told you to step it up; looks turned into touches, and flirty comments turned into late night texts where she told you exactly what to say to have him wrapped around his finger.

And when that didn’t work, she shoved you into the closet with her boyfriend to see what’d take place in the dark, away from prying eyes.

Olivia got what she thought she wanted in the end. A nod from you was all the confirmation she needed as her boyfriend whisked her out the door.

No one else seemed to pick up the tension trickling out of the closet. They were all so eager to believe that Vernon and Olivia were in love; the type of couple who you aspire to be like, so wrapped up in one another that the thought of them separated made no logical sense. Why would Vernon even consider someone else? The thought he’d do anything to jeopardize such a clandestine pairing wasn’t even a thought in the horizon.

The buzz of your phone knocks you from your stupor. A humorless huff of air sighs through your nose as you silence the fourth call in the last ten minutes. Barely a second for the same name to pop up again.

Incoming call… Vernon Chwe

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#svthub #kvanity #ksmutsociety #vernon smut #svt smut #vernon x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #vernon fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #vernon fic #svt fic #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #vernon imagines #hansol vernon chwe #🫡 highvern

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miley1442111 · 1 month

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Rafe Cameron loves you and is worried you don’t love him back. You are Sarah’s friend and had already told her that you loved Rafe, but didn’t know if he loved you back. You’re a Pogue.

this request was so fun to do, thank you for requesting !!!

only time will tell- r.cameron

a/n: i didn't imagine a fem! or male! reader so imagine what you want :)

summary: rafe still has time to win you over after his terrible behaviour, right?

pairing: rafecameron x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of drugs and dealing drugs, general angst

A part of you hated Rafe Cameron. His shitty attitude, his party-boy persona, his terrible habit of bottling up his emotions, then running straight to you to beg for forgiveness. And you, being you, always let him back in. The other part of you was in love with him. His beautiful smile, unseen kindness, and softness reserved only for you.

“He’s an asshole!” Sarah groaned. “How are you ‘in love’ with him?”

“I don’t know! It’s just different when it’s us two. And then he runs off and he’s a dick again,” you sighed, frustrated with your own feelings. “I think I need to actually break it off clean, it’s not healthy for either of us anymore.”

“Woah,” Sarah and Wheezie mumbled at the same time.

“You think you can do it?” Sarah asked.

“I have to. It’s not like it’ll hurt him, he doesn’t love me.”

“You don’t know that-” Wheezie tried, but your mind was made up. You were sick of being used by him.

“Oh, and you do? He looks at me like I’m something to be had, not something to love.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You really thought that he didn’t love you? He paced his bedroom, torturing himself with what he had heard from your conversation with his sisters. He knew he wasn’t a good boyfriend, he knew it upset you when he dealt and drank too much, he knew you didn’t want to be a ‘perfect Kook wife’ like Rose. You had plans to go to the mainland for college, maybe never come back to the Outer Banks. He knew your relationship wasn’t helping either of you, that he was a terrible boyfriend, that he used you, but he also knew he couldn’t breathe without you. He knew he couldn’t live a happy life without you beside him. Yes, he was young, but his mind was well beyond his years. He needed you. He’d always need you.

At least one good thing had come out of that conversation. He found out you love him. He’d spent recent months of your relationship coming to terms with the fact that he was stupidly and grossly in love with you. Something he didn’t think would ever be reciprocated. But here you were, confessing to his sisters that you loved him. He thought back to the first time he saw you, walking with Kie at school. You were one of those pogues that got a scholarship to the private school. You were shy but kind to those you knew, and those you didn’t. He was the year above you, graduating, but you didn’t question when his history teacher asked you to tutor him. You were so patient with him, even when he was late, or just flat-out didn’t show up. Even when he’d show up high out of his mind or drunk you’d make sure he got home safe and sat with him on the porch of Tannyhill as he came down.

Your kind heart was his, and he was sick of missing dates and treating you as a disposable person, because you weren't. You were the love of his life. He wanted to make this right.

He heard your footsteps outside his bedroom door, and he quickly opened the door and pulled you inside by your waist. He practically glued his lips to your own as you let out a yelp of surprise.

“Baby-” you tried to talk but he stopped you, his lips forceful and unwavering. He pulled away softly, hands on your waist to keep you in front of him.

“Y/n, I love you. I’m in love with you. I love everything about you. I know I’m a shitty boyfriend, you don’t need to tell me that,” he was tearing up. “But please, I need you. I feel like I can’t breathe when you're not around. I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not. It’s fucking crazy. I feel fucking crazy half the time but I know one thing, and it’s that you’re the only person I know I want to see everyday- no fuck that, every fucking second, for the rest of my life. I adore you, and I’m so sorry that I let you believe I didn’t. I’m done with all of it. No more drinking, no more drugs, just you and me.”

You stood there in shock, a single tear falling from your eye. “Rafe-”

“I’m so sorry-”

You cut him off by kissing him, then pulling away. “I’ll believe that when I see it. This is the last chance I’m giving you Rafe Cameron. One more.”

“I’ll make it worth it.”

“You better,” you smiled, then kissed him again. You were hopeful that he would truly stop his shitty behaviour, but only time could tell.

#rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader angst #rafe cameron x reader fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #obx #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx fic

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nataliesfirefly · 29 days

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You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F! Reader - Part 8

a/n: heyy loves! if you’ve stuck around for all 8 parts, thank you SOOO much. writing this series and receiving so many kind comments and love has really made the past month and a half so enjoyable. i cant believe i’m concluding my first fic already!! it’s been so fun and i definitely want to write more. shoutout to my friend @avessss who encouraged me to start posting even though i was really nervous. i couldn’t have done it without her 💕 but anyways enjoy the last chapter! not sure when i will post next but until then… message me, give suggestions, etc!! love you all SOO much 💌

word count: 4.6k words

masterlist

playlist

warnings: MDNI 18+, afab reader, smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, making out, language, angst for like one second, FLUFF, mentions of alcohol, not proofread

“A pint, please. Thanks.” You smile at the bartender as you slide forward five pounds. You stand and wait patiently, leaning against the bar as he shuffles away to go fill up a tall glass of beer.

You hear your name being said from next to you. You turn to see a familiar girl with olive skin and long, silky black hair. Your brain takes a few seconds to compute who it is.

“Sasha! Hey,” You grin and she smiles brightly. “Hi. I didn’t know if it was you or not,” She chuckles and you stand there awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“How’s life?” She asks. “Uhh, good. Can’t complain.” You shrug as the bartender slides you the beer across the counter. You take a sip as she nods.

“Same here. Just a little terrified of the fact that we are going to be seniors in a year,” She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Me too, girl.” You nod in agreement.

“How was your summer?” Sasha asks. You let out a sigh unintentionally before fixing your facial expression.

“It was… good,” You nod slowly, almost trying to convince yourself. “I don’t know if you know but…There’s a rumor going around that you and Farleigh had somewhat of a summer fling,” She winces after she says this.

“Oh God,” You press a hand to your forehead and shake your head. “Who told you that?” You groan.

“I’m assuming it came from Felix. I’m not sure, but I just wanted to tell you…” She places a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “If you ever need to talk or anything like that, let me know.” She says, her English accent soft and elegant.

She seems almost too nice. You’ve never seen Sasha like this, so it’s hard to believe.

“Thank you.” You dip your head and take another sip of beer. “I know I was never the nicest to you and we were never close, but I’m here for you.” Her hand falls from your shoulder gently.

“I think I was honestly just threatened by you,” She continues. You jerk your head towards her quickly and furrow your eyebrows.

“What? Why?” You scoff as if it’s absurd. “I always had this… gut feeling that he was in love with you or something. He would talk about you nonstop, about how much you annoyed him and how much he ‘hated you.’ I knew better,” She shakes her head.

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry,” You feel bad, suddenly. Like you were the cause of their relationship problems.

“But that whole thing is over now,” You wave your hand dismissively. “He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” You both giggle at her words.

“He is. I can see why you broke up with him,” You nod, feeling no remorse for talking about Farleigh this way. It’s all true. But you also know Sasha had a lot to do with the shitty parts of their relationship.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” She grins and holds up her hand, giving a tiny wave. “Yeah. See you,” You watch her walk away before turning back to your drink, grabbing it and heading to find an empty table.

You sigh, leaning down and fishing your textbook out of your bag. You still have four chapters to read before tomorrow. The first term of your junior year is kicking your ass, even though it’s only October.

Sooner or later, you see Felix walking through the entrance of the pub. You immediately crane your neck to search for any signs of Farleigh, since he usually follows Felix around. But thankfully, he’s not anywhere to be found.

You turn your attention back to your textbook, and when you glance back up, Felix is sitting across from you.

“Hey.” He smiles and you notice the cigarette between his fingers. “Hi. How are you?” You reply, not exactly in the mood to talk to him right now.

“Oh, you know. Just drowning in work,” He sighs and leans back in his chair, throwing his head back slightly.

“You and me both,” You chuckle lightly and close your textbook, knowing you won’t get anything read so long as Felix is here. He leans forward again and takes a drag from his cigarette.

“So…” He starts, trailing off. You raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“Are you and Farleigh ever going to make up?” He asks suddenly. You cough, surprised by the abrupt question.

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t even try it, Felix.” You roll your eyes and he groans. “Please, we don’t even get to hang out much anymore because you’re avoiding him,” He whines.

“Then just… arrange a time to hang out with me when Farleigh isn’t there.” You grimace at the feeling of his name in your mouth. Felix facepalms. “C’mon. Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but…”

“It sounds like you think you know what happened.” You narrow your eyes and he seems confused. “What?” He tilts his head.

“Lola told me you’re spreading rumors. Like, that Farleigh and I had some fling over the summer,” You explain, and he glances down like he’s been caught, before looking back up with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“What, you thought no one would hear you two fucking at one in the morning? You guys were so loud, it’s like you wanted to be caught,” He chuckles and shakes his head. Your face burns beet red with embarrassment.

“I don’t judge you for it. I just didn’t expect it,” He says. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you go telling everyone about it,” You reply.

“I didn’t mean to. I told one person in confidence.” Felix says. “You know you can’t trust these people to keep things to themselves,” You shake your head in disappointment.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But I think Farleigh really wants to talk to you.” He says, his tone persuasive and you immediately cringe.

“I’m not talking to him. Nothing will come of it,” You finish off your beer and set the glass on the table decisively.

“I just don’t want our friendship to be messed up because of this.” He says, sounding a bit sad. You look back up to him and see him glancing down at his lap.

“We’re good. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” It comes off harsher than you meant it to, but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. “I can’t just forgive and forget, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah. Alright, then. Just consider talking to him. I’ll see you later, mate.” He drums his fingers on the table before standing up and walking to the bar. You sigh and decide to pack up your things after checking your watch and seeing the time. It’s getting late.

You stand up and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walk out of the pub and down the cobbled streets while looking around and just observing the several groups of students, chatting loudly or laughing. The chilly autumn breeze tosses around crimson and golden leaves.

You go over your plans for the remainder of tonight in your head. You’re going to get back to your dorm, take a shower, then get the rest of your work done. That is, if you don’t procrastinate like you usually do.

You enter your dorm building and then stop in your tracks when you see him standing there, at the bottom of the stairs. It’s like you have a full body reaction to him standing in front of you, sending a chill down your spine and making your stomach churn. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at you. You step forward, walking up the stairs and completely ignoring him. “Can we please talk?” Farleigh calls your name.

“No, we can’t.” You respond, your tone harsh and bitter. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs behind you and you increase your pace, trying to get to your door and unlock it before he can catch up to you. But it’s no use, he’s already standing there behind you.

“Please. Just let me talk to you,” He begs. You shake your head. “Farleigh, I already know how this is going to go. You don’t talk.” You can’t even stand to look at him, even addressing him is difficult after all these months of not speaking.

“I’m going to talk. I swear. Please,” He pleads. “Fine,” You groan with exasperation as you unlock your door, although you’re sort of curious as to what he’s going to say.

He closes the door behind him and you go to sit on the edge of your bed after setting your things down and kicking off your shoes, looking at him expectantly. “Okay, talk.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Farleigh says, and it surprisingly sounds sincere. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you all these years. And those things I said at Saltburn, I didn’t mean any of it.” His voice is quiet and he looks down at the ground as he speaks. You blink a few times and take a moment to respond.

“Why would you say those things if you never meant them?” You ask, your own voice timid as you remember all the harsh and cruel words he said to you that one night.

“Did you mean it when you said you hated me and you wished we never met?” He fires back. You bite the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze as regret washes over you. “...I never said–”

“Yes you did.” It’s silent and the tension in the air is palpable. It seems like you’re both waiting for who is going to speak next, but you aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to apologize when you’ve literally hated me since the day we first met,” You chuckle sarcastically and shake your head. He falls silent, and when you glance back up to him, he looks nervous, like something’s on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s not… exactly true.” He mutters. “I never hated you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. That night at Saltburn, when Felix introduced us to each other. I saw you and I just felt… Something just came over me. I’d never felt it before. I mean, I was so captivated by you. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was thinking about you every second. And I was scared. I was so scared. So I was mean to you.”

He lets out a breath after his confession and you stare at him in disbelief. You’re barely processing anything he’s saying. Is this real? You feel like you should pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“And Felix never kept his friends around for long, so I knew I couldn’t get attached to you. I thought you were just passing by and that I would never see you again. But when you came back the next summer, then the next, and then you got into Oxford, I knew I was fucked.

“I just kept pushing my feelings down and instead of dealing with them, I was just… a bitch. I was trying to push you away and I was hoping that would get rid of my feelings. But it didn’t. And I regret it so, so much. I wasted all this time and I was being so stupid. I was just scared of love. I was scared of loving you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. You swear you can see tears in his own eyes.

“What about Sasha?” You ask when you finally gather yourself. “Really? You don’t know why I dated Sasha?” He chuckles a bit like it should be obvious. You shake your head no.

“I just needed someone to distract me. I got with all those people to fill the void. I mean, Sasha and I’s relationship was purely based off of sex. And every single time, I pictured that it was you instead of Sasha. I would close my eyes and imagine it was you. I think that was the only way I was able to get off,” He laughs. Your eyes widen at his words and your stomach flips. So that was why he was always moaning like a bitch?

“So when we finally… I freaked out. It was getting too real, and so I pushed you away again. And I said some shitty things.” You blink and a few tears fall. You don’t even know how to describe how you’re feeling right now. So many emotions are building inside of you, and they’re so dense and heavy, you’re not sure how to comprehend them.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Farleigh seems to notice that you’re crying. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m a fucking idiot,”

Before you know it you’re off of your bed, crashing into him and sobbing against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in a tight embrace and enveloping you in his warmth. Your shoulders shake as you feel all the emotions pouring out of you. He holds you like he’s never going to let go. You don’t want him to let go. Ever.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers your name into your hair. “I’ll never do that to you again.” He continues muttering these things to you as you let him hold you, melting into the hug.

You look up at him and his brown eyes are illuminated with affection. Something about him is different. He’s softer, unlike his usual cold and teasing personality.

He gently moves some hair out of your face and kisses your forehead, causing you to blush and smile softly.

“Why did we waste so much time when we could have been together?” You ask timidly, more of a rhetorical question. He sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Cause we’re stupid,” He chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t matter now. We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” He grins down at you and you smile against his hand that cups your face. He leans down and you tilt your head up to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow and sensual, like you’re both trying to savor each other for as long as possible, like you’re making up for all those years of fabricated hatred. You can’t deny that you missed his lips and the way that he kisses, the way his tongue licks into your mouth. He pulls away after a minute.

“But I still feel like I need to make it up to you,” Farleigh’s expression changes and his voice lowers to that familiar deep and gravelly sound. You can see the lust in his eyes and you feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“What should I do for you, baby?” His hands snake down to your hips as he lowers himself slowly to the ground until he’s on his knees. Your heart races and you feel chills racing across your skin.

He looks up at you and you swear your knees almost give out from underneath you just at the sight. “Far..” You giggle shyly and feel your face burn red.

His fingers fiddle with the waistband of your skirt, almost teasing you and waiting until you ask him to take it off. But after a moment he’s pulling it down gently, and you step out of it gingerly and nudge it to the side with your foot.

He groans and his hands roam up and down your thighs. “You’re so perfect,” He mumbles as he hooks your lace panties under his fingers and pulls them down as well, almost hurriedly this time like he’s just that eager to eat you out until you’re sobbing for him.

Without any warning or time to prepare, his mouth is already on you, tasting you passionately with his tongue and moaning, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You moan breathlessly, your hand reaching down to tangle in his curly hair for something to ground you, and he seems to like this. He keeps letting out these small, needy whines like he’s the one getting devoured.

Every swirl and flick of his tongue has you whimpering like you’re in pain, your legs feeling unstable and weak. He sucks on your clit and you feel two of his fingers already inching their way inside, curling inside of you deliciously. It’s all too much and your breath has turned into short, high-pitched, desperate huffs.

“Please- Shit, Farleigh,” The third finger he inserts draws a long moan out of you. You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you, with no drawbacks or regret looming in the future. When you think about how he just confessed his love for you, it only brings you closer to the edge of your beautiful release.

He laps up your slick, his tongue getting dangerously close to your entrance. You gasp for air as his fingers leave, only to be replaced by his tongue. You whine at the new feeling of his tongue deep inside of you, his thumb circling your clit. You feel your climax approaching, threatening to make you crumble and beg for mercy.

A deep and guttural groan leaves him as he continues fucking you with his tongue. “Far, I’m close-“ Your hand twists in his hair and you roll your hips against his face absentmindedly, almost like you’re stuck in a trance.

His tongue slips out of you, his nose nudging against your clit. Then, you’re gone. You feel like you’re floating, like you’re the only two people in the world right now, all your thoughts disappearing as that divine ecstasy shoots through your veins and melts your muscles and your bones.

He stands back up and takes you into his strong arms, cradling you as he brings you over to your bed, with occasional kisses along the way. You both pull away to tear off your clothes. You hurriedly pull off your sweater and your bra and toss them aside, hearing them land somewhere on the floor. Farleigh takes his own shirt off and his jeans, revealing that beautiful body you’ve subconsciously been dreaming of.

“Lay down,” You tell him with some sort of newfound confidence. You’ve never been on top before, but right now you want to pay him back and give him all that you have to offer.

“Mmm,” He hums in response, laying down on your small, twin-sized bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, feeling slightly nervous as his hands rest on your hips. You keep your hands on his chest as you grind your hips down onto him, feeling the form of him through his boxers.

He’s rock hard, and it only encourages you to continue to grind against him, rolling your hips smoothly and slowly. He whimpers and grips your hips harder, biting his lip. “Fuck, baby,” He moans, his hips bucking up slightly to meet yours.

You can’t wait anymore. You reach down and maintain eye contact as you slowly pull down his boxers, shuffling them down his legs.

It’s definitely intimidating, but you’re determined to ride him. He looks up at you. “Is this okay?” He asks, his hands returning to your hips. You nod. “Yeah,” You reply before rising up on your knees and adjusting yourself before sinking down onto him.

You wince at the delicious pain as your teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip, his hands guiding you further down his length. A string of curses leave his lips once his whole cock is inside of you. He definitely missed this.

You place your hands on his chest again as you begin to drag your hips back and forth. He whimpers and whispers your name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck-“ His grasp on your hips tighten and you can already guess that you’ll have bruises.

You rock your hips back and forth, creating a better pace for the two of you as he thrusts up into you. That pained look crosses his face again as you make eye contact. You’re completely enthralled by the sight of each other, a sheen of sweat forming on both of your foreheads. Your head falls back once you finally find the perfect angle that brings you such satisfaction, your jaw going slack. “Baby,” He begs, breathing heavily.

You feel yourself growing tired from the fast rhythm, and you slow down, still circling your hips on top of him. He seems to sense that you’re growing fatigued, so he flips the two of you over, switching your places. You’re dizzy and caught off guard, but you focus on his eyes as he takes over, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes.

Farleigh reaches down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers together and holding on tightly. He lowers his head to pepper kisses across your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. He brushes some hair out of your face.

“I love you,” He mutters, his nose rubbing against yours. Your eyes widen at his words and your heart skips a beat. You squeeze his hand weakly and grin.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you so much,” You tell him, and he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck as he moans desperately, his thrusts faltering. Your other hand rests on the top of his head, stroking his curls. You both finish at the same time, whispering each other’s names and more confessions of love. It’s meaningful, beautiful, and sweet. Something you’ve craved but never experienced. That is, until now.

He collapses next to you and eventually pulls out of you, causing you to grunt just a bit. You lay there, your legs entangled with his and his arms around you protectively. He pulls the sheets over the two of you and continues to kiss you slowly with so much passion and affection.

Farleigh pulls away and swipes the tears off your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You take his hand in yours once again and press your forehead against his.

“I could get used to this,” You whisper with a cheeky grin. He laughs softly. “Really?” He responds sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

“Really.” You giggle quietly and he presses another kiss to your cheek. “I would consider spending the rest of my life with you,” He shrugs nonchalantly and you can’t seem to stop smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

“You’d consider it? Woah, thanks,” You say with fake awe, gasping. “I’ve been considering it for a while, actually,” He mutters, running his fingers through your hair. “Have you?” You whisper, suddenly feeling sleepy. Everytime he holds you like this, it puts you right to sleep. You feel so safe and loved in his arms.

“Mhm.” His other hand rests on the small of your back and you feel your eyelids growing heavy. “I love you, Farleigh,” You whisper. “I love you too.” He replies, and with that, you drift off to sleep, with no cares or worries in the world, now that you’ve finally solved your problems with Farleigh. You’re so glad you gave him a second chance.

The next morning you wake up to Farleigh pulling you closer to him, nuzzling his head in your chest and groaning. You yawn and glance over to your bedside table, checking the time on your alarm clock. 9:42 AM.

Shit. You forgot about your class. It started at 9:30. Oh well. You groan and let your head fall back onto the pillow, rubbing your forehead.You pat Farleigh’s head, his curls sticking out at awkward angles but still managing to look cute.

You shiver and reach down to pull the duvet over yourself. He stirs at your movement and eventually, his dark brown eyes open.

A grin immediately appears on his face as he looks at you, taking in your appearance. Thank God you hadn’t worn makeup the day before. You were in your natural state, besides the messy hair. He traces his finger along your jawline and you smile, tilting your head.

“Good morning,” He wraps you up in his arms again, desperate to be close to you. His voice is deep and raspy. You’ll never get tired of his morning voice.

“Morning,” You reply, snuggling up to him and breathing in his scent. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back soothingly.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about waking up next to you?” Farleigh asks. You giggle quietly. “Well, your wish came true,” You reply with a quick raise of your brows.

Suddenly, you remember what Lola said that one night at Saltburn as you think about you and Farleigh’s relationship over the years.

“Lola told me something a few months ago,” You start. “Mmm, and what was that?” He responds.

You inhale slowly. “She said that you were looking for me one morning and you came by our dorm, and you seemed very worried about me,” You smile at the thought, knowing what you know now.

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. I was always worried sick about you. Whether you got home after a night out, if you drank too much, if some guy took advantage of you…” He trails off and sighs.

“Really?!” You ask, gazing up at him in shock. “You’re so confusing,” You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head.

“Do you remember our first night at Oxford? The very first party we went to?” He asks. You nod. He fiddles with a strand of your hair.

“After our little… argument, I stayed away from you the rest of the night. But then it was getting late, and I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t know if you knew the way back to your dorm. When I went into the bathroom I found you passed out on the floor. Black out drunk.” He explains, his voice soft.

“Anyone could have found you, or taken advantage of you. So I picked you up and carried you back to your dorm and tucked you into your bed.” Your eyes widen as your brain registers his words. Lola never told you about that.

“And when we were talking that night on the steps outside at Saltburn when we couldn’t sleep, the first summer you were there, you fell asleep on my shoulder. So I carried you up to your room.”

It’s silent for a minute as you process this. Was it a common theme for Farleigh to carry you to your bed when you were passed out?

“I never knew you cared that much.” You whisper, reaching up to play with one of his curls. “I don’t think I knew, either.” He mumbles.

You kiss him, slowly and gently, smiling against his lips. He grins, breaking the kiss, before holding the back of your head and guiding you back to him.

And you really believe that in this moment, you could die happy. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. The hot August nights, the freezing December mornings, the summer days under cerulean skies. The good days and the bad days. You can’t even remember how it felt to hate Farleigh. Every single trace of dislike for him is gone, erased completely from your heart. All that’s left is a love too strong to comprehend.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld @florkt @i-love-ptv @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

#farleigh start #saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn #farleigh smut #Spotify

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shanbinswf · 9 months

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LEAVE YOUR LOVER — yoon keeho [repost]

landing page. main masterlist.

pairing: best friend roommate keeho x afab reader

genre: mild angst, mild fluff, smut (mdni)

plot: your best friend and roommate keeho doesn’t take too kindly to how your boyfriend treats you, so after some good food and a few glasses of wine, he makes a proposal. one night with him, and if you feel nothing, he’ll never bring up how shit your boyfriend is again.

wc: 4714

warnings under the cut.

warnings: reader cheats on her boyfriend, reader’s boyfriend is a right asshole (still don’t defend her cheating), mentions of body image and low self esteem, mentions of food and eating, mentions of alcohol consumption and being mildly drunk, kind of drunk sex but also kind of not. technically a part one.

YOU WOULD NEVER SAY YOU HATED YOUR BOYFRIEND PER SAY, BUT HE WAS FOR SURE MAKING HIS WAY INTO YOUR BAD BOOKS AS OF RECENT WEEKS.

His most recent stunt? You were meant to be hanging out with him over the course of a couple of days at some spa retreat weekend he had planned, only for him to flake out the morning of. He claimed he had some work ‘things’ he had yet to finish, but you knew the truth—he just wanted to spend the weekend drunk with his boys and forget he had a girlfriend back home, something he was seemingly starting to do quite often.

Lucky you hadn’t packed your bags. You had faced one too many weekend getaway trips being cancelled at the last minute for an array of reasons—none of which you believed.

He seemed to forget you both ran in the same circle of friends, though, so you often caught him out in his lies through the social media posts your friends posted with or of him. And the most recent night out? He even had a woman’s arms around his neck while they danced.

Your best friend and roommate, Yoon Keeho, was witness to all the screaming and writhing around you did when you held your phone to your face and read over the shitty messages your even shittier boyfriend send you.

While you couldn’t say you hated your boyfriend—despite being not far off from being able to make the claim; Keeho was less forgiving and very open about the fact he hated your boyfriend with his entire being.

Each time you invited your boyfriend over, Keeho was less than accommodating. He often made sure to push his way to sit between you so your boyfriend was either sandwiched to the end of the couch, or worst case, Keeho always made an effort to make himself as big as possible so he took up more space which more often than not ended with your boyfriend being forced to sit on the singular bean bag chair—the same one you often drunk-made out with Keeho on. A secret your boyfriend didn’t need to know.

Keeho lazed back in his usual chair at the small table you had both just bought and assembled. His fingers gently played with the stalk of the wine glass, and his eyes looked everywhere around the apartment bar at you. “We’ve really made this place our own, don’t you think?” A small, soft smile tugged at his lips.

You nodded your head, looking around also. The place was mostly decorated with Ikea furniture, but you had both chipped in to buy everything—it helped you had similar tastes. You admired the red pull out double bed couch in the living room, and you couldn’t help but feel excitement at the 55 inch TV that decorated the wall which cost… a lot. But it was worth it. It made your movie nights all the more exciting.

“Shame we can’t break the table in,” Keeho’s voice became low, barely audible but as the apartment was silent, you could still hear every word that passed his lips. At first, you didn’t respond. It took a few seconds of the words to sink in. And when they finally did, your eyebrow raised in reaction.

“Excuse me? I plan to eat at the table every meal, every day,” You defended, sitting up straighter. Your knees hit the leg of the table, making it shake slightly. You rushed to grab the base if your wine glass, not wanting to spill any. It was a bottle Keeho bought when you first moved out to live alone, mere weeks before he begged to move in with you as his old roommates were being kicked out of their apartment at that time.

And what kind of best friend would you be if you said no to him?

Keeho’s face deadpanned, and you realised the meaning behind his words rather swiftly. You gasped, but then raised your hand to hide your laugh. You tilted your head back. “Gross, I don’t want to think about my best friend fucking some random girl on the table I eat at!” Your face crinkled as you cringed, shaking your head furiously to try to rid yourself of the thought.

Keeho raised an eyebrow, leaning on his elbows. He leant across the table, and you felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. You had a boyfriend, the feelings you had for Keeho were wrong. But you still couldn’t snuff them out—no matter how hard you tried.

“Who said it was going to be some random woman? I was planning on fucking someone you know quite well,” And while a part of you thought he was insinuating it be yourself, you shook your head and reminded yourself to not get lost in the fantasy. You saw the girls he followed on his social media apps, the ones he often thirsted over (yes, even to you as he thrust his phone into your hand for better view of the screen)—the women who you deemed a total opposite to yourself.

“If you fuck one of my friends, you’re sleeping in a shitty tent on the balcony and I’m selling your room to someone else,” You faux threatened, but the humour didn’t reach your eyes as your chest ached just at the thought of his hands on someone else, ached at the thought of his attention being stolen by someone else—even worse at the idea of it being someone you know and call a friend.

You wanted that. You wanted… him.

Keeho leant back against his seat and brought the wine glass to his lips, tilting his head as he took a sip. He looked elegant, his white shirt sleeves pushed up his arms and his glasses sat on the edge of his nose. You wanted to pounce on him, but ever since you had been friends with him at the start of your college years, you had found great strength and control.

Back then, you always found Keeho incredibly attractive and even considered asking him for a one night stand several times, but when you guys went clubbing and found him in some corner with his hands on a stranger’s ass, you always backed out of the idea. And then you began to date.

Sure, most of your boyfriends never lasted long and some even claimed your friendship with Keeho was suspicious, you had learnt to keep your feelings and desires on a very tight leash over the years. Now your current boyfriend has no fear of you and Keeho living together, and you almost questioned if he would even think twice if he caught you and Keeho napping on the couch in one another’s arms—a common recent occurrence on lazy, rainy weekends.

Keeho placed the wine glass back on the table, his eyes locking onto you. “I never said it would be one of your friends. I just said you knew her very well.”

Your skin tingled, and you rushed to stand. You forced a laugh and pointed to the direction of your bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower and change into some pyjamas…”- Your voice trailed off as your mind flashed with an intrusive thought—begging to ask him to shower with you or wait patiently in your room as you busied yourself to look perfect in an attempt to gain his attention, even if it lasted just a second.

As if he could read minds, Keeho stood and held his wine glass, following behind you. You turned to face him as you reached your door, eyebrow raised with suspicion. “Why are you stalking me?”

“I’m going to watch a movie in your bed while you shower. You said it’s movie night so you have to keep your promises,” He sounded defensive, his lips pouted ever so slightly.

“We literally have a huge TV and pull-out bed in the living room,” You began, but his pout only increased at your words as he found himself disliking them the more you talked. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his face with your hand, squeezing his cheeks to force his lips to stick out even more. “You’re such a big baby, you know that?”

“Yeah, your baby,” He managed to get out, his face daring to turn so he could press a kiss to your wrist. You gasped and pulled your hand away from his face.

“Gross, Keeho germs,” You giggled, then turned to finally throw your bedroom door open.

“That’s not what you said a few weeks ago when you were making out with me and basically dry humping me,” Keeho spoke confidently, and your eyes fell wide as you looked around—as if your boyfriend or any other intruding ears could overhear.

“You promised not to talk about that, I’ve been good lately and I haven’t laid a hand on you in… that way ever since,” You defended yourself.

A part of you often lay awake at night after your drunken escapades with Keeho. He never pushed you away, no matter how much you got lost in the feeling of his lips. His hands always remained polite and on your waist, never daring to move in either direction. Surely any other just-a-best-friend would push you away if you kissed them… right? But Keeho… he never did.

“I wish you would,” Keeho said matter of fact my before he forced his way into your bedroom. He walked to your bed without a care in the word and placed his wineglass on the bedside table your boyfriend claimed his own, then he threw himself on the bed—the same place your boyfriend slept whenever he slept over, which was not often.

A place you wished was claimed by Keeho instead…

Your phone buzzed from in the drawer where you locked it before your Ikea trip, holding it prisoner for fear you would text your boyfriend in a fit of rage or sadness. Keeho noticed your eyes flicker to the drawer, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you fucking dare give in. End it with him.”

You tore your eyes away from the drawer and made your way to your wardrobe. You opened the doors, then you pulled open the top drawer. Your hand reached in and you felt a pair of your favourite lounge ware, a grey coloured super soft set of pyjama shorts and a vest top with pale pink detailing of lace. You threw a look over your shoulder. “You know it’s not that easy,”

And then you disappeared into your en-suite bathroom.

That was one of the best and worst things about your apartment—both bedrooms had their own en-suite bathrooms. You wished there was a joint one sometimes, so you could relish in the scent of his body wash that suffocated the room when he was finished cleaning after his workouts or a long day.

A part of you also hated the idea, you wanted privacy to get lost in the world of Keeho-dreams—dreams of… an intimate nature. Dreams you felt ashamed to be having. Dreams your other friends assured you meant you were in love with Keeho. Dreams that had you delusional, and defensive over your own feelings at the same time.

The kind of dreams you should be having about your boyfriend and not your roommate and best friend.

You turned the shower on and allowed the room to steam up before you stepped in. The warm water hit you like a wave and hugged your body, making you feel comfortable and at ease. You had to remember he was just in the next room though, and you had to keep your hands tasked on only washing your body.

Once you felt clean, you washed your hair and then tied it back, too lazy to dry it properly. Then you made your way back to your bedroom.

Keeho was lazing against the headboard of your bed, and as he looked from the TV screen to you, you suddenly felt self conscious. It didn’t help that your bedroom had a cool air flowing through, hitting your exposed thighs and making you shiver.

You noticed his eyes looked down your body. Noticed how his eyes lingered a bit too long on your thighs. You rushed to sit on your side of your bed, grabbing a pillow to hide your body behind—and to attempt to gain some kind of warmth.

You smiled at Keeho, leaning closer to him to get a better view of the awkwardly angled TV screen. You silently made note to buy yourself a larger one, as out of you both, only you had a TV in your door. Keeho had a gaming PC, but it was out of commission for movies as one of his friends tipped water over the monitor and broke it—and Keeho has still yet to replace it.

“What are we watching?” You asked, your face closer to Keeho’s than you wished for, but you were doing a good job at controlling your inner urges.

“Some romance movie I think, I let Netflix choose one by random,” He replied, his arm snaking around your side to pull you closer.

Your body soon became flush to the side of his, and you wanted to either get up and run away, or sit on his lap and be even closer to him; but you stopped yourself from doing either option. You decided to rest your head on his shoulder, forcing a yawn to pretend you were tired. You just wanted to be close to him, but you couldn’t risk your friendship… Or relationship at that. The one you kept forgetting you were even in.

You watched the movie intently, inwardly cringing when a kissing scene appeared. Your eyes begged to flick to Keeho, to admire his perfect plump lips that you had last kissed a few weeks ago… you had to stop thinking about him like that—you had to forget your feelings for him and at least try to like your boyfriend for once.

As if right on cue, your phone began to buzz again, and you sighed.

You decided you best pick it up or he would call all night long. You pulled away from Keeho and threw your pillow on the floor, then you opened your bedside table a crack to pull the phone out but to ensure your privacy stayed intact. You knew if Keeho saw what you hid in your drawers, he would never let you live it down.

You rushed to shut the drawers, then you tried to slide the button to accept the call but the second your finger touched the green circle, your phone was swiped from your hands and thrown on a pile of nearby recently-cleaned clothes that needed folding and putting away.

You glared at Keeho. "What the fuck was that for?" You asked, rushing to get on your hands and knees so you could climb over him to get to the phone. But the second your left thigh landed on the bed the other side of his, his hands moved to grip your waist tight and hold you in place.

Keeho's eyes looked angry, and his grip was tighter than the soft lingering touches you were used to. You raised an eyebrow, confused by his sudden actions. He couldn't help himself, and his hands pulled your body to be flush against his. You gasped again, but this time you decided not to question him.

You had given in, and for once, you felt like you weren't the only one pushing your hidden desires onto him.

“Don’t answer his call,” Keeho’s voice was small, almost begging. Your eyes softened, and your hands came to rest on his cheeks. His own eyes softened at that, and his lips turned up into a smile.

“I can’t just ignore him all night,” You replied softly, which Keeho did not seem to take too kindly to. His hands tightened on your sides, your hands moving to hold onto his shoulders to support yourself. You felt like he was going to swallow you whole.

“Don’t you fucking dare try to answer his call, or we are over,” Keeho’s voice was louder this time, but somehow deeper. You blinked innocently, surprised.

“Us? Over? We’re roommates, you can’t just move out because I answered a phone call,” You giggled a little, trying to laugh off his reaction as nothing more than a best friend caring for you—being a little too possessive over you.

“I’m not talking about moving out, I’m talking about how you’re my girl,” He over pronounced the word my, which caused you to tilt your head. He leant his head back against the wall with a sigh, and his hands moved from your sides to your thighs. His hands ran up and down slowly, gently. And your self conscious concerns were slowly coming back.

“What do you mean by my girl?” You asked, pulling your off of his body. You still made no effort to pull away from him though, but from the way you shifted on his lap and received a sharp intake of breath, you knew he was about to say something either very hurtful, or something you had been dreaming about for years.

“You can’t really think of us as just friends, right?” Keeho asked, his eyes closed and face still tilted towards the ceiling. You shook your head, but realised he couldn’t see or sense the motion so you muttered a rejection to the statement. “Exactly, we’re basically a fucked up couple and have been for years. But I don’t want to keep denying my feelings or pushing us apart, which is why I’m telling you not to answer his calls. End it with him, leave him.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s not that simple—” You began to which his head shot back to your direction, and his hand slap your thigh with a slight sting. “What the fuck was that for?” You asked, voice a little too loud, to which he raised an eyebrow. “I can’t just ghost him. I have to end it with him properly, you know I’ve wanted to for a while… I just don’t know how.”

Keeho nodded his head in understanding, one of his hands moving to tangle into your hair while the other thank spanked your thigh rubbed over the pink skin soothingly. “Well we can worry about that later, but how about we have some us time tonight, yeah?” Keeho smirked and even wiggled his eyebrows for added effect.

You laughed at first, but then moved your hands to his shoulders with a serious look on your face. “But then won’t I be cheating?”

“Well…” Keeho began, tilting his head to the side. “If you think about it, from the day we first met, I’ve been claiming you as my girl so technically… you’ve been cheating on me for years.”

You rolled your eyes, the smile back on your lips. “Not sure that’s how it works, but you do you I guess.”

“I’d rather do you,” He murmured, his hand forming a fist to get a good grip on your hair before he leant forward and pressed his lips gently to yours. The all-too-familiar fireworks erupted under your skin, warmth spreading everywhere he touched. You craved him, needed him to survive. It was like you were drowning, and he was your last gasp of fresh air.

You pulled back so you could watch your hands as you slowly slid them from his shoulders, down his chest, then you finally let them find home on his stomach over his shirt. Your fingertips begged to reach under and trace along his skin, but you resisted the urge.

His hand moved up your thigh, the highest it had gone that night, and you flinched. He noticed the action as he had been very intently watching your face and ever reaction to how you relished in the feeling of his body being so close to yours, and he couldn’t help but frown. Had your boyfriend said something to make you fear men touching your thighs? The thought alone pissed him off more than he thought possible.

“You okay, angel?” His voice whispered, and you mumbled something at first which he couldn’t quite catch. “Speak up baby, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

“I asked can you maybe…” You sighed as you leant your head forward onto his shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’m a bit self conscious about people touching certain parts of my body and my thighs are one of those places,” You explained.

Keeho turned his head to press a kiss against your temple, his fist in your hair loosening as his fingers decided to gently run through it instead. You realised he was trying to soothe you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you pressed turned your head and pressed your face into his neck.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Keeho whispered before he attempted to pull your body back so he could resume kissing you. Your body grew hot at the compliment, and so you rushed to try to hide his eyes from noticing and so you pressed your lips to his first. But firmer this time.

This time, there was almost a sense of urgency behind the kiss. The pressure was firm and your lips moved against each other faster. His hands moved to your thighs again, but the pressure was barely there, as if he was ghosting his hands over your skin. The sensation felt good, a little too good. So you gasped, and Keeho let out a faint chuckle before he took advantage of the situation and intruded your mouth with his tongue.

When you and Keeho made out, it was always messy. Messy, needy, a mess of all your unspoken feelings in a rush to get out. But this time, there was no rush or any unspoken feelings. You knew how he felt about you, and so you were ready to give into it all.

Your hands daringly moved lower on his stomach, reaching under his shirt. You hadn’t intended to insinuate for him to take it off, but that was how he took the action… and you weren’t complaining. Keeho detached from your lips long enough to quickly unbutton his shirt and pull it off before he found home against your lips once again.

His body was radiating warmth, and so one of your arms moved to wrap around his neck as you tried to pushed your body into his as much as possible. You felt him smile against your lips, and his hand moved higher up your thigh.

Then all of a sudden, hands grip your sides and you were thrown onto your back. You blinked with surprise at the sudden action, looking up at Keeho who now lay between your legs above you. He smiled down at you, eyebrow cocked. “You look a little dazed already baby. Is kissing me that good?”

You nod slowly, too drunk off the feeling of his lips to respond with anything else.

He laughed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lower lip before he pulled back again. “Then wait until you feel my cock inside you. You’re going to be lost in heaven.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, the arm that was lazing around his neck moving to his hair to gently tangle in the locks. “You’re pretty confident in yourself, but all I hear are words and no proof.”

Keeho shrugged, his hands moving from your sides to the insides of your knees. “Well I’m more than willing to show you right now if you ask nicely.”

Again, you rolled your eyes to which Keeho tutted. His hands pushed your legs apart and against the bed, this one of them moved to spank the opposite thigh to the one he had earlier. The action caused you to gasp, and you looked down your body to find his slotted against yours as if he was made for you.

“Less attitude, or I’ll have to fuck it out of you,” He threatened.

You pushed your lips closed in a show you were going to listen to his every word, and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh at the action. He leant down and pressed his lips to yours, but kissing you slowly once again. His hand that spanked your thigh did the same as the other one and earlier, gently rubbing the pink skin to ease the slight sting he had caused.

But then his hands daring slid up your thighs higher, to where the bottom of your shorts sat. Between kisses, you took a sharp intake of breath—one he heard and couldn’t resist but to smirk at. He was relishing in the way your body was reacting to his every touch. God, he wished he had done that sooner.

His fingertips pushed up the bottom of your shorts, delicate and dancing along your skin. You rushed to grab his wrists, pulling back to look into his eyes. “What are we doing?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, right now we’re talking instead of kissing like we should be.”

You rolled your eyes once again, earning a slap on your thigh. “Attitude,” He warned to which you let go of his wrists and held your hands up to prove your innocence.

“I meant… we’ve only ever made out before…” Your words trailed off. He nodded in response, then took a few seconds to realise what you were asking. He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Well, would you like to do more?” He asked, laughing when you gave him a serious, almost stone cold look.

“You know I want to do more,” You replied.

“Well, do I? From what I can tell, I’m the one who has been simping over you all night while you’ve been too bust rolling your eyes or running your mouth,” Keeho responded.

“Please don’t make me get soppy about my feelings right now when your hands are basically under my clothes,” You laughed, Keeho laughing in response before he nodded with agreement. He decided to let it go… for now, he thought.

He leant his head back down, about to shower you in more kisses. You pursed your lips, waiting. But you never felt the pressure hit your lips. Instead, you felt soft lips trail down your jaw, down your neck… You took in a small breath, finding yourself enjoying the feeling as you closed your eyes.

One of Keeho’s hands pulled back from your thigh but instead moved to the front of your shorts, his fingers playing with the strings. He seemed… almost nervous to untie it. You nodded frantically, trying to focus on the feeling of his lips on your collarbones and his fingertips dancing on the inside of your thigh.

He felt the shake of your head so he pulled back and knelt above you, his fingers removed from your skin. His hands both moved to the strings of your shorts, and his eyes remained on yours as he gently pulled the strings. The top of your shorts felt loose, and you lifted your hips in an attempt to help him.

Keeho smiled softly and leant down to kiss your forehead before his fingers reached into the shorts, then he pushed them down your legs and threw them in the direction of the door to save yourself from having to struggle to determine which pile of your clothes were clean and which were dirty.

His fingers moved back to your thighs, resting on the soft inside. Your breath hitched as the self consciousness came back in waves. You looked around for your pillow to try to hide your body once again, and Keeho seemed to catch onto your feelings without you even expressing them.

“Baby,” He whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “You look so beautiful, how did I get so lucky.”

You smiled at his words, your hand coming to rest on the back of his neck as your fingers found home to tangle into his hair.

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