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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months ago

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Meant To Be (2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> The day you disappeared from the world.

Disclaimer: This is part two/prequel to Meant To Be. Angst, Fluff, Bucky and Reader having feelings for each other, platonic!Howard Stark, mentions of death, swearing, mourning. Not Proof Read.

You pounded your fist on the front door only to be greeted by Mr Jarvis.

“Ms Y/l/n.”

“Sorry, Mr Jarvis. I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. Is he here?”

“Still in bed, Ms.”

Jarvis just opened the door wider for you to step inside. “I was just about to take him his morning breakfast.”

“I’m afraid it will have to be on the go this morning, Mr Jarvis.”

“Yes, Ms.”

As you had done for as long as you could remember since meeting Howard Stark, you headed towards his bedroom in order to pull him from his bed.

“Alright, Stark. Get up.”

Howard just groaned from under the covers. It sounded like he said “Five more minutes,”.

“Nope. Not this morning. The Colonel has been on my ass all week about you and I’ll be damned,” you pulled the heavy covers from his body. “If I let my ass get reprimanded because of your ass. So, get up.”

Howard groaned again.

“Mr Jarvis!” You called out behind you. “You wouldn’t happen to have an ice cold pitcher of water by any chance.”

“Why, yes. In fact, I’m just readying Mr Stark one now.”

That got Howard up out of bed. He practically sprang to the other side. “No. You’re not doing that again.”

“Get up when I tell you and I’ll never do it again.”

“I’m up. Are you happy now, sweet cheeks?”

You deadpanned him before throwing the clean washcloth that lay on his bedside table. Howard was known for washing his face first thing before he got out of bed. According to him, it kept him looking “young and attractive,”.

“Get cleaned up. I’ll be outside.”

Giving Howard a ride into work, you were both greeted with almost all the SSR members hustling around the place.

“Is something going on today that I’m not aware of?”

“It’s testing day,” Howard told you as he lay his briefcase over the chair in front of him.

Meanwhile, you were hanging your coat up on the coat rack, taking the space in around you as Howard walked away. But you couldn’t stand comprehending the super soldier in the corner, blushing as Peggy accidentally touched his hand, or the boys everyone knew had lied on their enlistment form but still allowed it anyway, or the ego-centric scientist washing a hand over one of the girl’s asses, for too long.

Within minutes of you entering the building, Bucky had found you.

“How long do you think it’ll take today?”

You jumped a little, holding onto your coat on the rack a little tighter. “Jesus- Do you always have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s not my fault you don’t hear me.”

“That’s because you walk as if you’ve got a secret to hide.” Letting go of your coat, you picked your files up from the main desk, Bucky hot on your heels.

“Not true. Well, maybe a little. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well, looking at it now…” You and Bucky paused side by side.

You found that, often when standing together, there was barely an inch of room between you and Bucky. Which, although you were managing to handle, was doing no good for the crush you realised you had slowly developed over the last couple of months.

He’d just sat there across the desk, looking tired and all kinds of handsome. You’d seen him sitting like that a hundred times or more, but for some reason that night was when your stomach decided to erupt with butterflies.

But, you were handling it.

You thought you already had it handled until three days ago when Peggy cornered you in the ladies bathroom. Josie, one of the secretaries, had sauntered her way over looking all perfect and pretty. She’d touched his arm, leaning in close to him. He’s smiled at her and, despite seeing him smile at plenty of girls like that, even recently. For the first time, you’d been jealous.

It was an ugly emotion and you didn’t like yourself very much for feeling it. Bucky- James. He was your friend. One of your best friends. Someone you could talk to about anything. There wasn’t a single part of you willing to risk that.

“I’d say we’re a few months away from something actually happening.”

Bucky scoffed. “He’ll ask her out. He just needs a little coaching, that's all.”

“Coaching?” You laughed. “From who? You?”

Bucky seemed a little offended. “I’ve had plenty of successful dates.”

You tried to not let that sting as much as it did.

“He just needs some confidence.”

You chuckled. “Okay, Romeo. But I know I’m right. And here.”

You pushed a file into his chest.

“What’s this?”

You tried to ignore the feeling that erupted inside of you when his hand brushed yours.

“Your paperwork. I saw you sneak it into my pile last night.”

You continued on walking, Bucky walking a little further behind you.

“You know, if I knew the army contained this much paperwork, I would have had second thoughts.”

You just threw a smile over your shoulder to him, watching as he sat at his desk.

Steve’s desk was joined onto his, meanwhile, directly diagonal to Bucky was your desk. In front of you was Peggy’s desk. So, although Peggy and Steve would have to turn a little to look at each other, you and Bucky had a direct eyeline to one another.

Something else that didn’t help the crush you were harbouring on him.

There was just something…handsome about the way he looked when he was concentrating. In his own little world, flipping and writing between pages. And for a moment, you’d wonder if that is what it would have been like if you’d gone to school together.

You’d been with him to plenty of museums and tech conventions. You’d seen the true side of Bucky. One that was rarely seen. His nerdy wonder and enjoyment.

It was barely two hours before Bucky stood and walked over to your desk. He had tried thirty minutes ago but the Colonel had walked by his desk, stopping in front of him since he’d caught him staring at you across the room.

The Colonel had just hummed, however, before muttering something to himself.

“Just as bad as the others.”

Bucky had wondered what the Colonel meant, until he followed his next eyeline over to the map desk where Steve was standing with Peggy.

Then he moved on.

Bucky knocked on your desk twice to get your attention. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I was wondering if you’d want to come with me on Saturday.”

“Aren’t we working on Saturday?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. We’re both off. There’s a new exhibit being put on at the museum and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

Bucky had attended plenty of museum and tech conventions alone. But his favourite ones were the ones where you’d attend with him. He got to be closer to you. He’d hear you talk about whatever thing you’d been waiting to talk to him about. He got to hear your laugh and by the end of the night, he got to hold your hand.

You smiled. “You need me to run the ladies off again?”

Bucky chuckled. “Maybe. Just so long as you stay.”

You looked up at him. This man.

“Okay.”

Bucky smiled. “Pick you up at four?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

That was when a small alarm sounded and Bucky responded to it.

“I better go,” he said before running off. But then he came back. “Make sure Peggy doesn’t touch my desk.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

Bucky smiled. “See you soon, doll.”

You smiled, watching him jog down the hall and towards the control room. Meanwhile, Howard appeared around the corner.

“Y/n?”

You knew that look on his face. He needed your help.

“What have you done?”

Standing up, you left your things at your desk and followed him through the building and towards the basement.

“I haven’t done anything. Well, not yet.”

You sighed. “Show me.”

Entering the room, it was just yourself, Howard and two of his researchers. “The chemical equation is wrong.”

“Don’t you know how to fix it?”

“It doesn’t need to be fixed.”

You looked at him as you examined his machinery. “I understand you’re incredibly smart, Howard. But you’re not making any sense.”

Howard sighed. “The last time I used it, it worked. My math is never wrong.”

“Then change it.”

“I can’t. Any higher and it won’t just melt the machinery, it’ll melt human skin.”

You grimaced at the thought. “You know, if you boys let women do more of the talking, there is a higher chance that war wouldn’t be taking place.”

“Well, right now there’s a war going on in here. Can you…can you help?”

You took a look at his blackboard.

“It’s not your math.”

“I know that.”

You shrugged. “Have you tested a model of this size before?”

“That’s what today is for.”

“Uh, Mr Stark?” One of the researchers popped their heads up. “I think I might have found our problem.”

You watched as Howard walked over towards the control panel that had been recently forced open.

“Well- what is that? Oh, jesus. Is that a bolt? What’s it doing-”

As Howard pulled it out, everyone heard a big clunk!

“Is the building still standing?” You asked after a few minutes of silence.

Howard looked around at the walls and along the floor. Nothing had cracked the concrete. As far as he was aware; the building was still standing.

“Yep. Must be one of the inner mechanisms. Hand me that crowbar?”

You spun around until you saw the workstation and picked up the rusting metal crowbar.

“Military issue. Not the prettiest thing in the world, but she gets the job done.” Howard explained as he began to yank one of the side panels off.

“We figure, if we can make this thing industrial size, we’ll be able to fit it on top of a tank. That way, if it fits on one, it can melt one.” Howard continued to talk as he lay on the floor and practically got inside of the machine itself.

You crouched down on the floor, peering inside. There had to be at least thirty main electrical wires, feeding some kind of blue and green substance into tubes.

“You become more peculiar the longer I know you, Howard.”

From his space on the floor, he looked at you and smiled. “Thanks. Pass me that thing, will you, toots?”

Rolling your eyes, you moved behind you and reached for the socket wrench that had been laying on the floor. You handed it to him before standing up and looking around the rest of the machine.

“Do I even wanna know when you came up with this idea?”

“Uhh.”

Howard was stalling. Usually when he stalled it was because he had been in another tryst with a woman who was most definitely off limits.

“Alright,” you chuckled.

Howard sighed. “You know what, you’re always on at me about my…friends.”

“That’s what you’re calling them now? Not production assistants?”

“What about you and Bucky, huh? I see the way you two look at each other. You’re really gonna tell me nothing is going on there.”

“We’re just friends, Howard.”

“Friends, my ass.” Howard lifted himself from the ground to peek out of his hiding place to look at you. You were standing with one heel across the other, a hand on your hip, staring down at him like you were his mother scolding him for doing something wrong in school…again.

“You and I are friends. No matter how many times I try to make it something else.” He muttered that last part to himself but you heard it anyway and chuckled.

Howard was a flirt. A shameless flirt. It just so happened that, before Peggy, you were one of the first to let the flirting comments fall.

Howard disappeared back under the machine for a moment.

“You and Bucky, however, are not.”

“Howard-”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Going to a museum.”

“With?” Howard pressed.

“Bucky.”

Finally, Howard stood from the ground and looked at you across the console desk.

“It’s not what you think.”

Howard just smiled. “You and Barnes are going on, yet another, date. You like him. I know, because every time you look at him, you get the same goofy look in your eyes that Mr Jarvis does when he looks at his wife.”

You tried to hide your embarrassment, but it only seemed to come out as annoyance against Howard.

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. And, I also know,” Howard was moving around the console towards you. “That Bucky has deep feelings for you.”

Howard was standing in front of you. He didn’t have to raise his voice anymore.

“He likes you, Y/n. And we’re at war. I don’t like thinking like that, but there’s no escaping the truth. We’re at war and a lot more people are gonna be losing their loved ones. Maybe it’s about time you took a chance with yours.”

You just stared at Howard. He had a point.

“He’d be lucky to have you.”

You took a breath before turning away. “I thought we were down here to start testing, not discuss my…that.”

Howard smiled. “You know I’m right,” he practically sang as he walked away, wielding his wrench like a conductor.

Ten minutes later, everything was seemingly ready.

As one of the other researchers left to go and get the Colonel, Howard started the controls up so everything would be ready by the time people arrived.

Only, as Howard started flicking buttons, you stood up.

“Howard.”

Something was beginning to shake in the room.

“Is it meant to be doing that?”

“No…”

Howard moved around the panels to take a look at the dials. Everything seemed normal.

Then it started to shake even more.

It was almost like your washing machine had been set onto a fast spin, but this time you were inside of the rattling machine.

“Howard!”

“I’m on it.”

“What can I do?”

Howard didn’t answer you, but it didn’t matter. Because within seconds, the arm of the machine started going haywire and as Howard yelled at everyone to get down, you felt the wind get knocked out of you.

As Howard finally shut down the machine from the inside, tearing at one of the wires, the building stopped shaking and the Colonel, along with Peggy, ran inside.

“Stark! What the hell is going on?!” The Colonel yelled.

“I wish I could tell you.” Howard stood, his legs still shaking from the movement in the floor. “Something must have come loose.”

“What the hell is that?”

Peggy pointed and everyone looked at what it was. A smattering of blue dust and what could only be described as a bullet exit wound, cracking into the concrete wall.

More people joined, running inside asking questions but fell silent when they saw the damage.

Cracks along the walls, machinery and different liquids on the floor, and a large crack in place of where you had been standing.

“Y/n? Where’s Y/n?”

“Stark! Where is my Agent?!”

“I…I don’t…” Howard was in shock.

Peggy sprang into action. Maybe you hadn’t been hit. Maybe you’d taken cover or not been in the room at all. People started following her orders to find you.

“Stark, where is my agent?” The Colonel asked as he approached him. “Now, she better not be dead or else I’ll have your neck for this.”

Howard shook his head. “You need a body to be dead.”

They both knew that to be true, but considering the fight they were having with Red Skull and a Super Soldier, it was quite plausible to have a death without a body.

Meanwhile, down one of the hallways, Peggy ran into both Bucky and Steve.

“Hey, what the hell was that shaking-”

“Have you seen Y/n?”

“I thought she was with Howard.”

Peggy shook her head. “Something went wrong.”

“What went wrong?”

“We, uh, we don’t know yet. But I just…”

As Steve took Peggy by the shoulder, Bucky made a run for it down to Howard’s lab. He saw the Colonel sat with Howard, but his commander quickly stood up and walked over to him.

“Barnes-”

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

“We’re still trying to figure that one out.”

In the days that followed, Bucky didn’t know his head from his feet. He’d just spoken to you that morning. You were meant to be meeting him for dinner that evening. He was meant to be taking you out that Saturday.

Nobody could bring themselves to clear away your desk. It was just how you’d left it. Open files, half finished paperwork, scrap pieces of paper with ideas and things written down.

But when the Colonel got word someone was coming in to replace you, he went to one person.

“Son?”

It was after hours and Bucky was yet to leave his desk. Mostly, his eyes had been focused on your desk, where you should have been sitting, scolding him for staying too late because it meant you had to stay late. Then he’d tell you, you didn’t have to stay, to which you tell him you wouldn’t let him work alone.

Bucky looked up and saw the empty box in his arms.

“Someone needs to clean out her desk and I think it should be you. They’ve got a replacement coming tomorrow.”

Bucky swallowed down his fear; accepting you were gone for good. And he took the box.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, son.” The Colonel held his shoulder as he stood up. “I know she meant a lot to you. You meant a lot to her, too.”

The Colonel had seen the red, tearful eyes of Bucky for the last few days. The dejected look each time he looked up and found your desk empty, the bow of his head as he’d hide his face every time someone said your name.

It had taken both the Colonel and Steve to pull him from Howard’s throat.

And now he was left to clear out your desk.

And for a while, he managed to keep his emotions in check. Sweeping away your files, adding them to his pile to finish for you. Clipping all your notes together, cleaning away the ink stains of your fingerprints by the edge of your desk.

Then taking the pictures from your desk, seeing your smiling face, placing them inside the box.

Then he found a key.

Bucky had pulled out your chair and sat down before opening up the locked drawer of your desk. That’s when all control over his emotions left him.

Inside, along with some more of your personal belongings, was a notepad. Each date had been crossed off, as had the things listed under it. Except for the one that you had started at the beginning of the week.

It was all the things you wanted to talk to him about; at dinner, walking home, and on Saturday. You made a list so you wouldn’t forget or accidently leave anything out.

And for a second, he smiled.

Then he cried.

You’d never get to talk to him about these things. He’d never hear your voice again. He’d never see you smile or roll your eyes or scoff or hear you yell at him. He’d never hear you laugh again.

It was hours before he left your desk and went home, keeping your box of things under his bed in case you came back. Howard was adamant that you would. The blast wasn’t strong enough to kill, but it was strong enough to melt. But, he hadn’t made it to melt human skin.

So you shouldn’t have died.

You couldn’t be dead.

You had to be alive…somehow.

And that was the thought, for as much as he wanted to kill Howard, Bucky kept with him.

That you were still out there, somewhere, and that you’d come home.

But the longer time went on, the harder that idea was to accept.

People started to mourn in their own ways. Mr Jarvis and his wife set out your favourite flowers on their dinner table on your birthday. The same flowers Howard started growing in his garden a week after you had disappeared. The Colonel had sent Peggy to make sure the gravestone issued for you was just right. Nothing too fancy; after all, there was still hope you’d come back. Steve, along with the other Howling Commandos, raised a toast in your honour.

But when the day came that Bucky fell from the train…

Only one thing made him smile. And that was that he’d get to see you again.

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kurooh · 11 months ago

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FAST N FURIOUS ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. what kind of car sex does he like to have? maybe on the hood of the car, in the backseat, or while he’s driving?

⟡ feat. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, kamo choso.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, semi-public sex, sexual activities involving vehicles, squirting, oral [f&m giving/receiving], dirty talk.

⟡ xoxo, juno: thank you for 2k!! <3 btw gojo gets hard as a rock if you suck on his fingers

— GOJO SATORU.

“just enjoy yourself, pretty girl..” satoru whispers, lightly pinching one of your asscheeks as his cock pistons in and out of you wetly. “mmmh, i’ve been wanting to fuck you all over this car since the day we met.”

your puffy pussy squeezes down on his cock tightly, and he groans, eyes rolling back as his hips still momentarily. “been wanting you to, satoru.. i-i love it when you fuck me deep like this, don’t stop, please!” you wiggle your ass against his pelvis, and he inhales sharply as he starts up the same pace again. the tempo is brutal, hungry, sloppy with all the wild need behind it.

the white hood of satoru’s car gleams in the moonlight, the only car in the vacant grocery store parking lot. you’re bent right over the hood, nipples pebbled from the cold, smooth surface and friction of your body sliding forward with each of his frenzied thrusts.

satoru had just returned from a two week business trip on the other side of the country, and you’d been awaiting his return, eager to be with him and needy for all he had to give you. today, he had been too tired to do much, so you went out and had a little dinner in the car before driving through the almost empty city.

under the cover of darkness, one kiss had led to another, causing you and satoru to end up disheveled in the backseat before he was opening the doors of his car and pulling you right outside. then you were being bent over the hood and he was inside you.

your hips bang against the side of the car as he carelessly thrusts against you, cock slamming deep and leaking so much precum you feel it dripping from your hole and collecting at your clit before falling to the asphalt below.

“g-god, nghhh— i’m gonna fucking cum, baby.” satoru’s growing frantic as he pushes closer and closer to the edge. his thighs are trembling, pressed against the backs of your own, and he absolutely does not know where to put himself.

“w-where do you want it?” he gasps, voice ragged as blue eyes squeeze shut. just the sound of his needy moans and sensation of his thickening cock has your tight hole clamping down on him as your arms collapse beneath you and you fall against the hood.

“e-everywhere, satoru!” you demand, whining loudly. your mind’s too jumbled to specify where, all fucked out on his thick cock.

satoru pulls out, gritting his teeth as he aims his cock over you and shoots globs of sticky cum all over your asscheeks and lower back. “damn, you look so fucking amazing like this,” he grunts, finally catching his breath as the last droplet of cum rolls down the length of his cock.

“toru, wanna lick it up,” you turn your head, pupils blown and tits bouncing ever so slightly. the tone of your voice is velvety and unashamed, which has him swiping his fingers over your skin and lifting them towards your mouth. your plush lips wrap around his wet fingers, and you moan lowly as you greedily swallow all the cum from his skin, sucking lightly. when satoru yanks your hair to get your attention, you look up with innocent eyes, noticing his creased brow and flushed cheeks.

“o-okay, princess. don’t get me hard again, fuck.”

— GETO SUGURU.

“i don’t care, babygirl,” suguru murmurs, voice hushed against your inner thighs. “seats are waterproof, did it myself.”

“i-i don’t wanna mess up your car, suguru,” you grit your teeth, sounding distressed at the thought of him not eating you out and also because you’re worried about soaking the leather.

“trust me, sweetheart. just relax, and enjoy yourself.” suguru’s reassurance has your limbs loosening, once racing mind finally slowing down. his large fingers push inside you, and all you can do is whine his name.

sometimes, on occasion, when he would eat you out, you’d squirt all over the place. when he’d practically ripped off your shorts and panties after you’d been fooling around together in the backseat, you realized what could happen. his seats are leather, in pristine condition. you wouldn’t want to destroy them by squirting all over, right?

“squirt all over me, and the car.” suguru demands, lightly slapping your fluttering pussy.

you moan, pushing a hand into his unbound hair and pulling as you push his face into your pussy. your heart’s pounding in your ears when he moans into you, fingers curling deep as he sucks your clit roughly.

“sugu, harder!”

suguru obliges, scalp tingling from how hard you’re yanking on his hair. his free hand rests on your thigh, tensing slightly as he keeps your trembling legs open.

the car is warm, and you feel dizzy as your orgasm builds beneath his harsh tongue. your tits jolt when your back straightens, white hot pleasure zapping through you like lightning. suguru stops curling his fingers against your g-spot, and starts to scissor them in and out of you.

“suguru!” you squeal above the squelching, wet sounds of your fluttering pussy, “mmmh, i think ‘m gonna—”

“do it for me, baby,” suguru groans, looking up at you from where he’s positioned himself at your pussy.

all you can do is moan, head falling back when the tension and pressure inside you finally reaches its limit. liquid gushes out of you, spraying all over suguru’s face and dampening his hair, along with the leather of the seats around you.

your chest heaves as your eyes open, gasping at the sight before you. your boyfriend and his seats are covered in your squirt, and he’s leaning towards your pussy again to lick up the mess.

“mm mm,” he forces your legs open when you try to close them in an effort to deter overstimulation, “you’re gonna do that for me again, sweetheart.”

— NANAMI KENTO.

“ken— kento!” you wail as he tosses your legs to the sides, opting to jerk his hips up into you after you said you were getting tired.

“shh, it’s okay, angel. i’ll fuck you till you fall asleep on the ride home.”

you and kento had been driving back from a dinner date across the city when his hand on your thigh slipped beneath your skirt. he was driving, and rubbing your clit until you were squirming and cumming in your panties.

“oh, don’t stop!” your chest heaves, mouth falling open in shock at the rush of overwhelming pleasure coursing through each and every one of your veins. your mind and thoughts are entirely jumbled, centered around kento only: his heavy breaths, the way he feels inside you, his body, his face, twisted in pleasure..

“fill me up ‘nd make me yours,” tears flow down your face after a few particularly hard thrusts into the deepest places inside of you.

“i absolutely will, angel,” kento grunts, his voice raspy as he arches beneath you, hands flying to your hips to keep you in place on his cock.

beads of sweat roll down his temples as he looks up at you, breathless at the sight of your beautiful face. you don’t even notice, too enraptured by his thick cock head punching into your g-spot.

“ngh, cumming.” he can barely choke out anything else as his spine straightens and his hot cum pours inside of you. you’re breathless as you pull his sensitive cock from your hole, positioning yourself on your hands and knees.

“angel?” kento sits up slowly, disappointed he’s no longer inside you. “what’re you thinking?”

“jus’ want a taste, ken.” and with that you’re licking his cum and your wetness from his cock, and he finds it so nasty yet so fucking sexy at the same time.

— FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“already told you to take it deep, princess. don’t make me help you, i’m fuckin’ driving.” toji grunts, both hands white knuckled on the wheel as you choke on his cock, taking it deeper into your throat.

spit drips down the small bit of his length that you can’t fully fit into your mouth, pooling at the base before further trickling to his balls. you feel the car speed up when his big palm lands on top of your head, and he pushes down slightly.

“this ‘s how i want you suckin’ my cock,” toji hisses, briefly yet harshly slamming you up and down on his lap. you gag, spit bubbling from the corners of your mouth and pouring onto him.

you try to nod in understanding but he pushes you all the way to his base until you whimper out a “yes, toji.” using your mouth like this after you’d mouthed off to him all day is just too fucking good, he thinks, smirking faintly as he looks out at the road.

like a good girl, you suck him exactly the way he showed you, gripping the arm rest for support as you bob your head on him. toji’s thighs tense, and the car speeds up further.

“take it just like that, doll..” he rasps before chuckling, “shit, nghh, i’m gonna have to pull over.”

before he can even finish what he’s saying the signal’s on and he’s cutting across a few lanes, rushing to pull over before he ends up explaining to the insurance company that he was getting a blowjob while driving. behind you, other vehicles honk loudly, tires scraping to a halt as this asshole finally makes it to the side to pull over, wheels hitting the curb.

the jolt of the car has you gagging, his cock going down your throat. toji’s fingers slip into your hair, twisting it as he drags you up and down his cock mercilessly. tears pour down your cheeks as you look up at him; his face is scrunched in pleasure, free hand gripping the door.

“swallow it all,” is all he can get out as hot cum shoots out of his cock, filling your throat. when he feels your throat squeezing him as you swallow, his deeper groans start to get just a little higher.

toji doesn’t let you pull away until his cock is throbbing with overstimulation, and you’re both thoroughly fucked out. he exhales before sucking in a breath, sounding exhausted. but he turns towards you, arching a brow as a smirk finds its way onto his face.

“get in the backseat, doll. gotta show you how much of a good girl you’ve been.”

— KAMO CHOSO.

“oh god, oh god— your pussy feels so fucking good!” choso babbles, hips snapping into you as your name falls from his lips over and over again.

the fingerprints on the car window smear as your hands slide down the glass, fingers curling into your palms. tears well in your eyes, close to spilling down your face; it’s too much and not enough.

“choso,” you murmur, cheeks burning with heat as you decide to experiment with some dirty talk. “y-your cock’s perfect for me, baby.”

the brunet whines loudly, blood pounding in his ears as he desperately fucks you, ready to fill up your perfect pussy. sometimes, choso feels like it’s his, but he’s too shy to even ask you or tell you it’s his. instead, he opts to say something a little simpler, fucking you faster and deeper to spur himself on.

“fuckkk.. you’re mine, aren’t you?” he means to sound domineering and strong, but he just sounds needy and in need of some affirmation. luckily, you don’t hear him too clearly.

“what was that, cho?” you bite down on your lower lip, hoping to silence your own sounds to hear him better this time.

a switch flips and choso’s mumbling your name, wrapping an arm around your middle as his muscled chest presses into your back firmly. his hand slides towards your throat, gripping slightly as he groans into your ear.

“i said you’re mine,” a harsh nip to your shoulder has you crying out and shaking beneath him, gripping onto the car door tightly as your pussy squeezes down on him.

choso recognizes the signs of an impending orgasm, drawing his hips back and slamming forwards deeply, heavy balls smacking into your clit. “c-cum on me, baby..” he whispers, barely holding it together.

your knees nearly collapse beneath you when you cum with a sharp whine, hole clenching and drawing out his own orgasm. choso spills inside of you with a choked groan, back to his mumbling about how good you feel as he rides it out.

“thank you,” he falls on top of you with a shaky sigh, obviously tired. his weight has you falling too, the both of you coming together to cuddle in the backseat, staring at the smeared, dirty glass.

“you know, baby, i’m never cleaning those sexy handprints off.”

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Note

peacekeeper!coryo x reader where she's like the commanders daughter and she manipulates him to find out the real reason why hes in district 12 and not 8 where he should be. could include smut up to you! love your writing sm <333

In Control || Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by @youremyvioleta divider by @firefly-graphics

A/n: I really really love this one just bc I got to write reader in a manipulative light which was fun and interesting. I also had another request sorta but not really similar to this, ALSO I can’t remember for the life of me if there were any female peacekeepers especially in district 12 so let’s just imagine there weren’t any for the sake of the storyline :) 1/4? fics Im posting today

Warnings: smut! virgin reader, possessive, obsessive, manipulative, lowkey dark reader

Wc: 2,975 another long one!

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

You had to see for yourself Coriolanus Snow in peacekeeper uniform. When news travelled around that Coryo was to be sentenced to years as peacekeeper in the districts, you nearly laughed at the idea of him being here.

Your father, Commander Hoff, leader of the peacekeepers here in district 12, even found it amusing himself. So here you were, leaned against a beam as you peer down at the new peacekeepers in training. What the hell was Coriolanus doing here in district 12 when you knew damn well from your father that he was supposed to be in district 8.

Of course, your eyes looked around for the one and only, Coriolanus Snow. You went to school with him but you highly doubted he knew you since you were a couple years below him. You often moved from the Capitol with your mother to district 12, with your father, so most of the times you weren’t even at school.

“You will rise together and you will fall together,” Your father’s loud voice echoes in the room. “You will be our eyes and ears out here on my base, and it will be your duty, to report anything suspicious you see because if you do not,” Coryo gives you a curious look as a light smirk adorns your lips.

He was probably wondering what the hell you were doing up there on the platform with the commander, and who you were. “You are as good as a rebel, yourself.” Your father concludes as you straighten up and push yourself off the beam.

Your father watches you with a warning look as you ignore him; walking down the steps, your footsteps echoing as you knew the peacekeepers were fighting hard not to look away from the commander. You honestly preferred being in the districts with your father than in prison that people call the Capitol.

You slowly study each peacekeeper before you stand infront of Sejanus Plinth. “A plinth back in the districts?” You say with a hint of amusement as you study him. His hair shaved, his expression cold. “Y/n.” Your father warns.

Coriolanus was the first to break his gaze from your father as he looks at you. Y/n. “I think there’s somewhere you must be?” Commander Hoff spoke with such sternness it made you gulp. “Yes, Commander,” You lightly sigh, addressing him professionaly, before giving Sejanus and the man beside him, Coryo, one final glance.

Coriolanus couldn't help thinking about you, for a few reasons. You intrigued him, not only because he thought there were no females at all in the base, but also because he found you attractive. Very attractive.He had a feeling he has seen you before, maybe around the academy, but he wasn't sure on it.

He wondered what the hell you were doing here at base. Maybe you were here as punishment as well, but that didn't explain why you were up on the platform beside Commander Hoff.

"Let's go!" Coriolanus shifts his attention outside as he hears a whistle being blown. Sejanus and Coryo walk side by side onto the open field where Commander Hoff and you stood at the front.

The two of you make eye contact before he quickly looks away and stands in the front row, beside Sejanus. "Today you will be participating in physical exercises..." Commander Hoffs words became muffled to Coriolanus as he only pays attention to you.

You were stood beside your father, a clipboard in one hand as you tap the tip of your pen against your bottom lip. That made it clear that you were probably not here as punishment. Your uniform was the same except slightly altered. "Go!" A whistle blows as Coriolanus stands there confused because he wasn't paying attention.

"Do you think your special, boy? Get on the ground and do pushups, now!" Commander Hoff barks as he looks around before quickly following along side the others. You watch in amusement, your father shakes his head at you as you try and stifle a giggle.

You write down notes on your clipboard as you listen to your father instruct the peacekeepers. You were training to be the first female commander in history. Focused on Coriolanus practically the entire time, you sauntered past your father to where he was, on the ground doing pushups.

It was a particulars hot day so they all were wearing white singlets with their blue pants. You were secretly salivating the entire time you watched Snow perform the exercises, his muscles bulging, his skin slightly covered in a layer of sweat.

He looked fucking hot. The few times you saw him around the academy, he looked handsome, ethereal, with his blonde locks, but now with his buzzcut, he looked like a complete different person, he was a walking sex appeal. You lightly bite your fingernails as you watch the way his dog tag would dangle from his neck when he was doing pushups.

Your father raises an eyebrow as he watches you sit on Coriolanus' back whilst he was doing a pushup. Coriolanus grunts at the sudden weight on his back. You smile in satisfaction as you hear him grunting. Music to your ears.

You sitting on his back only made Coriolanus push harder as you let out a small yelp, placing a hand on his shoulder to stabilise yourself. Your jaw dropped at his speed, it was as if you weighed nothing. His stamina was insane as he kept the same rapid pace.

"What do you think you are dong Miss Y/n?" Your father raises an eyebrow at you, "Extra punishment, Commander Hoff," You beam at your father, patting Coriolanus' firm back as he Snow lets out a groan. Hoff hums before walking away, his hands behind his back.

When you hear the final whistle blow, you get off his back. Coriolanus stayed laying on the grass, his chest going up and down rapidly as sweat ran down the side of his face. You pulled out a handkerchief from your pocket with your initials embroidered in fancy writing and hold it infront of him.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, your roll your eyes before taking his hand and placing the lacey handkerchief in his hand. "Thanks," He says in a hoarse voice. You don't break eye contact with him as he wipes his face free from sweat.

Coryo hands your handkerchief back to you but you shake your head, "Keep it," Is all you say before turning around and leaving him there dumfounded. The thought of why he was here in district 12, and not 8–where he was supposed to be–still lingered in the back of your head.

For the next couple of days there was an unspoken tension between the two of you. Sexual tension to be specific. You were still itching to know what his business here in district 12 was. You were attracted to him for sure, how could you not when he looked like that. But your curiosity overpowered your desire for him.

You were walking along a quiet corridor before you felt a hand reach out and grab you, pulling you into a room. You let out a muffled scream, a hand firmly on your mouth as you felt someone's breathe fanning your neck.

Your eyes were wide in shock before the person spins you around and he reveals himself. He was dressed in his full attire, hat and everything included. You let out a sigh of relief, all while he watches you. "What the fuck are you thinking?" You whisper yell at him, as you quickly lock the door behind you.

"I wanted to introduce myself-" You scoffed loudly, turning your head to the side. "You think I don’t know you, Coriolanus Snow?" You raise an eyebrow at him as his tongue wets his bottom lip. Truth be told, Snow actually never mentioned his name to you. He just assumed you didn't know who he was. "I just wanted to properly introduce myself to you, Y/n.”

"Well, that is not a very good reason to pull someone into a room without warning," You shrug your shoulders at him as he stays quiet, studying you as you study him back. Tilting your head slightly, you open your mouth, "You have another motive, Coriolanus,"

He swallows, "I want to see you again-" "why-" "privately." Oh? All the times you and Coriolanus would see each other was always out in the open with prying eyes everywhere, particularly from your father. You'd be lying if you said you weren't purposely whoring yourself for him just to get information out of him. From your lack of response, Coryo speaks again.

"What are you doing here on base? You don't seem to be here for punishment-" You let out a low chuckle, stepping a few steps forward towards him. "I could ask the same for you, Have you really no clue?" Coriolanus purses his lips, looking away before meeting looking over your face.

"Your initials on your handkerchief..." He starts, ignoring part of your question as you lips start to quirk up, "Are you Commander Hoff's daughter?" "Maybe I am. Does that bother you?" You step even closer to him as you notice his breathe starting to hitch.

"No," He breathes out.. "But what would your father think if he found out that you and I are here alone, when we shouldn't be," A smirk forms on his lips as your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips.

"Truthfully, I couldn't care less," You whisper before pressing your lips against his. Coriolanus froze when your lips touched his, you honestly thought he might just shove you away. You were pleasantly surprised when you felt his hand coming up to grip the base of your neck, deepening the kiss. It was as if he was a starved man, feasting on his food. Like you were oxygen that he desperately needed.

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed with such savageness. The heat was like wildfire. The tension, the waiting. Days of expecting him to make a move on you. After the wandering eyes and the way he would make up any excuse to touch you or say something to you.

You slid your fingers across his broad, firm shoulders. One of his large hands gripped your loose locks, tugging at it, while his other hand reached down and tugged at your shirt. You pull back for a second as you take off your shirt, your bra covered chest on display as he wastes no time in unclipping it.

Coriolanus palmed your breasts hard enough to make you hiss against his mouth. You kissed him deeply, your fingers slid behind his neck and along the tendons of his neck. Coryo reaches up to take his hat off before you stop him, "Keep it on," You breathlessly say as Snow smirks before continuing his assault on your lips.

You tore your clothes off in front of him as he gapes. A surge of confidence ran through you as you grab his hand and push him against you. His rough hands dragging up your body, feeling every curve and dip he found to be perfect.

Snow kissed across your breasts and once again tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling at it until you whimpered and tilted your head back. His mouth was at the base of your neck and he kissed and nipped along your collarbone until he reached a point where you moaned gutturally and arched against his still fully clothed body.

Coriolanus pushed you back, your ass bumping into the only piece of furniture that was in the room which happened to be a desk. He pushed your legs apart and sank into you with a single, hard thrust. The he paused and pressed a kiss against your lips before he started to move.

You bit back a cry of pain and forced yourself not to stiffen or pull away. Your whole façade crumbling as he thrusts into you. It hurt. You knew it might, if not done slowly at least. But the pain still caught you off guard. The abruptness of it. He most likely assumed there had been others before him by the way you sauntered around the base and interacted with the other young peacekeepers.

You were glad it hurt. You were whoring yourself for him. You had seduced him the moment he made it abundantly clear that he wasn't keen on sharing his story of why he was here. You had manipulated him because you wanted something from him. You were greedy.

You weren't just going to settle on the undivided attention he'd give you. No. You wanted him, body and soul. Coriolanus was so much bigger that his frame practically enveloped you. His hands were tangled in your hair so tightly you could barely twitch your head as he met your eyes and moved inside of you at an almost inhumane speed.

His jaw was tense. His expression partially shielded from his hat. But the grip he had on you, and the speed he was going at, you could tell you were his. And similarly, he was yours. You forced yourself not to show any signs of discomfort as your threw your head back, eyes screw shut, when his fingers started playing with your stiff, perked nipples.

You moved your hips to meet his movement and clenched around him, your fingernails dragging across his clothed back. You lock your feet below his hips to drive him further in driving him crazy as a string of curses fall from his lips.

Coriolanus hisses, dropping his head against your shoulder as he thrusts deep inside of you. The angle of his movement, the intensity between them wasn't just his–you whimpered and gasped near his ear.

His pace faltered slightly, and he lifted his head. His hands moved away from your tits, caught hold of your hands and intertwined your fingers together. He kissed you. Deep, passionate kisses that made your chest hurt as you returned them.

He shifted his pace. Slower. The angle was different, the way your naked pelvis met his as he pushed into you, and you realised with alarm that it was tearing your sense of control away from you. And you desperately wanted that control back or otherwise you’d be vulnerable.

Coriolanus was kissing you. Hot. Bruising. Almost punishing kisses, as he gripped your hands and kept driving into you relentlessly. The pain had dulled to a fainter throb. Several more hard, deep strokes, then Coryo's hips jerked, and he gave a deep moan and dropped his head down in the crook of your neck.

His breath dragged across your skin as he panted near your ear and kissed your shoulder. You were still against him. You were suddenly aware of the rough table biting into your skin. And that the room was hot. Coriolanus stayed pressed against you and still inside of you for several seconds and then he abruptly tensed and pulled away.

He expression was drawn, and he didn't even look at you as he zipped up his pants. You slowly sat up, watching him carefully. He was progressively getting paler and paler as his hands lock behind his neck. His expression was both disbelieving and horrified.

"Fuck-" He said under his breath, he seemed devastated. And part of him was. He just fucked you. The daughter of his commander. He may have just screwed up his opportunity to see the one person he had risked everything for. If Commander Hoff found out that Coriolanus fucked his daughter, he could be transferred to another district, away from her. Or even worst, he was going to be executed.

His desire for you got the better of him and his initial plan. But he just couldn't resist you. Coriolanus clapped his hand over his mouth and looked over, meeting your eyes. Whatever he was battling inside his head seemed to be giving him a panic attack.

He swallowed visibly, closed his eyes and adjusted his hat. Then he opened his eyes, he seemed to have composed himself. He drew a deep breath and turned to you. His expression tense.

As he looked at you, his eyes dropped to your legs and he blanched white. You couldn't believe someone could even possibly blanch that white. "You were a virgin?" His voice was rasping. Coriolanus felt his hole that was dug out for him was getting deeper and deeper.

"Yeah," You say seeming unbothered. Snow looked like he was about to be sick. His jaw was clenched as he kept staring at you. "I–would have been gentler–if I had known," He finally said.

You slowly got off the desk, the middle of your legs aching as you put your clothes back on as Coryo watches. "I didn't really want you to be," He pressed his lips together.

"Fuck I'm not going to be able to see her," He muttered as his hands once again lock around his neck as your heart dropped upon hearing what he said. You smile bitterly to yourself. You got what you wanted. You found out what he was doing here. You'd grieve over the cost later.

Maybe he couldn't change course now. It was set. Obsessive. Possessive. You had him; possibly forever, if you didn't decide to use your cunningness. You had him. For whatever reason, you had him. Now you had to find a way to take advantage of it.

A slip of words to your father and he could be transferred to another district, away from her, or even hanged for taking your -virginity. You knew you had him wrapped around your finger now. And by the way Coriolanus stared at you and swallowed hard, horror in his eyes, he knew it too.

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headkiss · 5 months ago

Text

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

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thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve x reader

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himezoro · 1 year ago

Text

your roman empire with the one piece men

that small gesture or word he said that entered your mind and never left.

starring : zoro, luffy and law !!

word count : 889

author's note : again, i'm so sorry for posting so rarely, working and planning a wedding has to be the most exhausting thing ever, i promise to go through all of your requests and to be more present, tysm for your support ♡౨ৎ⋆.˚ some of these scenarios have been inspired by moments i often think about in my life, can you guess which hahaha??

zoro was smitten with you, and longed taking a step forward in your camaraderie, and everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. so when nami told him he was on errand duty with you and only you today, the swordsman knew it was his shot to get closer to you.

gosh, you were gorgeous walking around the alleys with the wind blowing your hair and diffusing your hypnotizing scent. and there he was, walking by your side like a guard dog with his hands the pockets of his jacket, listening to your enchanting voice.

the errands were nearly coming to an end, and zoro did not dare to "make a move", which he knew he would regret. the alleys got more crowded and he was afraid to lose you, especially since his orientation is not the best, though his senses would always bring him back to you. he knew that.

as zoro listened to you and internally debated on whether he should say something about his feelings or not, his body acted on his own, finally closing the distance.

as he gently grabbed your left hand with his right one, intertwined his fingers with yours, before putting both of his hand and yours in his right pocket, acting like it was the most natural gesture on earth.

and the butterflies in your stomach never died since.

luffy has always brought joy to your life and fed your desire for adventures and fun. he lit stars to your world and invited you to let go of pressure and have fun, not minding about third parties' opinions. a lot of people would question your couple association because of luffy's exuberance, but all them be damned. the future king of the pirates brought you back to life and no one could make you happier.

a sudden rain came down pouring on the grand line and the wind blew hard. the entire crew started running around to put back inside the furnitures that were left outside. the rain was so much that it started freezing and you started to run to your quarters. yet, as you were about to finally reach your door, a pair of elastic arms grabbed you and brought you back outside under the pouring rain, their owner sporting a huge, bright grin on his face.

"luffy!!! what the hell are you doing? it's raining and we'll catch a cold!!"

"chichichi, i wanted to dance with you, (y/n)!" he beamed, his eyes adoringly pleading yours to allow his antics as he started twirling you around under the pouring rain.

between laughters only him could exulate, you tried to bring him back to his senses.

"but luffy, honey, we can't dance under the rain! it's cold and there's no music playing!"

luffy did not mind your ramblings as he kept on twirling you around, his hand standing on your the small of your back the whole time, his thumb occasionnaly drawing circles. with a determined gaze and his signature smile on his face, he pressed his forehead on yours, the rain drops falling from his nose to your lips from the closeness.

"together, there's nothing that we can't do (y/n). after all, i'm the future king of the pirates!!"

his laughter hugged the atmosphere and made your heart race even more.

your relationship with law was a secret on the submarine, and it was hard for you to hide your adoration for your boyfriend. after all, what wasn't there to love? law was smart, composed, mature and commited. yet, sometimes, it felt so easy for him to "ignore" your status in front of the crew or anyone for that matter, which tended to hurt your heart. did law appreciate you the way you did? was it unrequited?

little did you know, law had a hard time not paying as much attention as he would when with the others. because he had a lot of work, even when the others were not around, it did not mean the two of you could see each other. therefore, the soft gestures he wished to cover you with were quite lacking. and of course, he was the one to have asked to keep the relationship a secret, and because of his prideful persona, he would not admit it was not a good idea.

you and bepo were getting ready to work around the submarines for your chores of the day. you were busy going around the submarine with your chores tool and bepo, and failed to notice your shoe laces came undone.

and of course, this would not go unnoticed by law. the captain could not stop himself from going to you with a frown, which surprised (and scared) both of you and bepo.

is there anything you did wrong? why was he looking so pissed off?

"idiot. you could trip and injure yourself." your boyfriend sternly spoke, kneeling to the floor to tie your shoe-lace, leaving bepo dumbfounded and yourself out of breath, with a racing heartbeat.

"you know i don't want you to get hurt." he said getting up, his hot breath tickling your cheek in the process, his warm hand resting on yours, silently promising to show his adoration for you like you deserve.

and you swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand from that day again.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece headcanon #one piece imagine #roronoa zoro #one piece headcanons #roronoa zoro x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader

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ta-ns · 5 months ago

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Arguing with Jason Todd

Synopsis: fem reader and Jason getting into an argument no angst just fluff ~ enjoy (approximately 1,170 word count)

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You don’t remember how it started at this point, what you had even argued about before it spiraled out of control because yes Jason is stubborn but so are you. Words were said and eventually you tried to leave, packing things up in a backpack and heading to the bathroom to grab your personal hygiene items which led to an even more upset Jason who was currently blocking the doorway of the bathroom like a damn troll to the secret passageway that demands a price.

His broad shoulders covering the doorway easily, the low moonlight outside casting a glow against his back that honestly makes him that much more horrifying. How criminals and crooked people even try to run from him escapes you because the man looks scary when he’s mad. Those beautiful jade green eyes narrowed into slits, locking onto your own unyielding gaze.

“Move Jason.” The words leave your lips like daggers, daggers dipped in poison with a viscosity rivaling the thickest sludge known to human kind. Jason for his part is unperturbed. “Watch it princess, don’t get smart with me.” His words are the opposite of yours dripping in venom, no his are cold and as sturdy as the Himalayas themselves.

As immovable as Mount Everest. “Fine. Watch this jackass.” And with that as quickly as you can manage you’re ripping open the window of the bathroom and yanking away the screen cover and grabbing the window sill with greedy fingers.

You’re quick but Jason Todd is a hell of a lot quicker, warm and large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling. But that stubbornness running in your veins is not to be taken lightly, no not when you’re like a cat with the curtains caught between your claws. Jason is firm in his pulling but you can tell he’s using hardly any strength out of fear of hurting you.

“Let go Y/N, this isn’t a fight you’re winning.” His voice rumbles through your chest and usually this would be nice but today the anger in you is about as vast as the Pacific Ocean is large. “I’m ganna scream.” You threaten and Jason scoffs at that not believing you in the slightest.

And that is probably what sent you over the edge and so you scream. Screaming bloody murder at the top of your lungs, the sound shrill, high, and bouncing off the bathroom walls and into the quiet of the night. You can’t see but Jason’s eyes widen impossibly and quickly he clamps a thick hand over your lips. “Are you crazy?!”

He bites out as he exerts a bit more strength and shifts positions, pulling himself between you and the window sill and now you’re fighting against his weight which is like fighting a wall but that doesn’t deter you even as your grip wanes and you’re pulled from the window, no you start thrashing and wiggling and flipping and pushing like a fish out of water.

Doing anything and everything to get his grip to loosen, curses and profanities that would make a sailor look like a saint, the murmured words unintelligible against Jason’s hands but the intent and meaning not disturbed.

Jason’s own anger is swirling like a c5 tornado as he expertly manipulates your body gently but firmly to press you against the wall and keeping you from moving with his weight. Pressing against you till all the fights drained from your body. Your chest heaving as you glare at him over his hand over your mouth.

He can feel the way your body goes limp and lax and glares down at you. “If I move my hand and you start screaming and cursing I’m going to gag you babe. Understand?” Of course you nod cause there’s really not much other choices and when his hand is removed the profanities and illicit words are spilling from your beautiful lips but this time in a whole other language and Jason’s hand is right back around your mouth waiting till you settle down again.

His determination is unwavering, a part of him is honestly in admiration over how stubborn you can be sometimes. Your sass like no other sometimes. “Still being a smartass?” He voice is like whiskey as it rumbles through you and he removes his hand, his gaze pointed at you. “Still being a dick?”

You bite back and at this point all Jason can do is gaze at you in almost awe, who knows how much time has passed since you two started almost wrestling and here you are physically exhausted but that fire or rather inferno in your eyes is still roaring. The corners of his lips curl up slightly in amusement.

He can’t help it as he starts softly scoffing. A scoff that turns into a chuckle that somehow makes you start giggling. Both of you egging eachother on till you’re both laughing out loud, laughter bouncing off the walls of the enclosed bathroom, laughing till you can’t even try feeling angry, laughing till there are tears in your eyes and your stomach feels like it just developed abs and he’s leaning into you against the wall not because he’s trying to pin you but simply because he’s laughing so hard.

And so the argument passes away, the embers dying in the breeze of laughter because neither of you remember how it started anyways. You’ll probably argue again in the future because unfortunately you’re both still imperfect people but just like this one it’ll be snuffed out, that’s what love does.

Love bears all things and by golly Jason would rather dive into the depths of that wretched Lazarus pit than let an argument become an impediment in your relationship. And you love him more than enough to swim into the depths of that pit just to pull him out. And that will prove true time and time again.

#jason todd x reader #red hood #jason todd #red hood jason todd #oneshot #Spotify

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karikarasuno · 3 months ago

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part one | part two | part three

you're starting to wonder if you want to fuck your neighbor because you might actually like him or if he's just a rebound. law is attractive. ridiculously hot, if you will. and you have a tendency of ogling him when he's not looking.

he's tall, tan, and muscular. and you've seen just enough of his tattoos to want to trace them. with your fingers or your tongue. whichever manages to come first.

but you can't tell if he's just nice or if he too wants to fuck you. and it only became more confusing after he built your dresser for you. he was over for hours. and you chatted and laughed and did plenty of ogling since building was such a strenuous activity.

you helped here and there, but for the most part you sat crisscrossed on your rug as you handed him tools and kept him company. and for as serious as he seems to be, he's actually kind of funny too, in a silly, witty, dark kinda way.

that's when your lust started to become muddled with something else. something sappier and mushier. you should not have a crush on your neighbor.

“he anchored it to the wall,” nami’s voice is astonished as she braces two palms against you’re dresser and wiggles it around, but it doesn’t budge.

“he claimed it was safer since i have a dog.” chopper squirms around on the floor, accidentally kicking over a stack of books that you never actually placed on the bookshelf and proving law’s point.

“im so jealous. im pretty sure zoro put one of the legs of mine on the wrong freaking way,” she complains, proceeding to sit on top of the dresser. “damn, this bitch is sturdy.”

“nami, get off my dresser, please,” you scold her as you push her off. “and we know better than to have zoro build things when he can barely follow instructions.”

“yeah, next time i’ll just get your sexy neighbor to do it,” she laughs as she jumps off and starts opening drawers.

you swat her hands away when she makes it to your underwear drawer. “you will not. he’s my sexy neighbor, get your own.”

your face heats up when your words register to your own ears. “oop, someone’s possessive. is that how you thanked him? fucked him on your new, strong dresser?”

“no,” you admit, even though you really wanted that evening to end that way. “he’s not like that. he’s respectful and courteous and nice.”

“and you like him,” she shrugs, not sounding the least bit surprised.

you sigh, not even willing to put up a fight and deny her. “having a crush on your neighbor is just so…”

“cute,” she offers.

“cliché,” you amend, shoulders sagging as you lean against the large piece of furniture law built for you.

nami doesn’t stay for much longer. but that conversation lingers on your mind. even hours later when the sun dips low into the horizon and the sky turns into glittery ink.

****

it takes your lighter one too many tries to produce it's tiny flame. it must be running low. you hold the tightly rolled joint between your fingers, the filter sitting firm between your lips as you try once more to light it.

finally, blissfully, the end burns and smoke fills your mouth as you breathe it longingly into your lungs. you don't smoke often. it's rare these days, especially when kid was the one with the medical card. but nami was able to slide you some pre-rolls today before she left.

the fuzzy feeling is quick to warm over you as you shuffle in place outside. it's not cold per say, but there's a definite chill in the air that has you regretting not pulling on a jacket.

you take another deep drag.

“i hope you know smoking is bad for your lungs,” law's voice is much, much closer than he actually is. and to be fair, you didn't think anyone could see you from where you're standing beside your house.

“oh, so you’re saying i should stick to edibles,” you respond, blowing out smoke from your lips and watching it temporarily cloud his figure.

“no," he's approaching you and you register how comfy he looks in sweats and a hoodie. you're really starting to regret only being in a t-shirt. "i'm saying smoking is bad for your lungs.”

"i think for tonight my lungs can handle it," you take another puff. he stops beside you, the sliver of the moon offering very little light, but it still somehow casts just enough for your eyes to outline the contours of his face. why did he have to be so damn handsome?

"just make sure to stay hydrated so your lungs don't fill with mucus," he chides, leaning against the wall of your home just as you are.

"okay, doc," you chuckle, inhaling once more as you lean your head back. you offer him the joint after a beat of silence, hand extending towards him as you watch his contemplation.

“wow, i haven’t smoked since college,” he eventually says, fingers brushing against yours when he makes up his mind and takes the joint.

“and what century was that?” you tease, knowing good and well that he can’t be more than a decade older than you. you can still have your fun, though.

“18th, i think,” he jokes in return, smile stretching across his lips before he brings the joint to them and inhales. you stare as his chest inflates with the action, and continue staring as the exhale relaxes his shoulders and he rolls his neck.

you’d hate it if he was your doctor. some people are just too hot for certain jobs. medicine being one of them.

he takes two more hits before handing it back. you smoke just a bit more and offer it to him again but he declines.

“it already went straight to my head,” he explains, voice sounding sleepier than before.

“you didn’t tell me you were a light weight,” you jest, taking a finger and poking him in the ribs. an action you wouldn’t normally have done if your head also wasn’t swimming.

“that’s what happens when you don’t smoke for over a 100 years.”

you laugh, light and giggly, and it makes you warm all over. who needs a jacket when the hottest man you’ve possibly ever seen is a furnace right beside you.

“well if you don’t have any other plans for tonight, you can crash mine,” you suggest, fingers crossed behind your back for him to say yes.

“which are?”

“pizza and the wedding planner.”

“the wedding planner?” his brows furrow like he has no idea what you’re talking about. and you’re sure that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“the movie with jennifer lópez and matthew mcconaughey? how are you not familiar with JLO’s romcom cinematic universe?” to say you’re shocked is an understatement. and maybe it’s the weed that’s making this feel like more of an affront than it really is, but you can’t help the way your jaw drops with disbelief.

“can’t say that i have a clue what you’re talking about;” he shrugs, much too unbothered for your liking.

“well now you can’t say no,” you blurt out, turning your body to fully face him. “the pizza is already on its way and i can’t possibly eat an entire box on my own.”

“i don’t want to impose,” he tries to counter, but you hook your hand in his hoodie pocket, catching him off guard and begin to tug him towards your screen door.

“don’t be silly,” you dismiss him, smiling to yourself at the fact that he’s not fighting your grip on his pullover. “and i’ll also have you know that this movie is the reason why i only ate the brown coated m&ms for like a year.”

"that seems like a waste," he responds, following you into your home through the sliding glass doors.

"it really was, but you couldn't tell me it wasn't the coolest thing in the world when i was 11."

chopper greets him first, traitorous little shit. he places his front paws on law's abdomen (you definitely are not envious of your dog), and the unexpectedness has law teetering back. you assume his balance is shitty from his high. not that yours is any better.

"thirsty?" you end up asking as he stands unfamiliarly in the entry of your kitchen.

"yeah, my mouth is actually very dry," his lip curls in distaste, and you can't help but find the expression cute.

“cotton mouth can be brutal sometimes,” you hand him a room temperature water bottle, then twisting the cap off of yours to take a sip.

law’s really thirsty though, and you stare as he chugs. his head is tilted back and his adam’s apple bobs. every muscle on him is strong and lean. his chest is broad and the softness of his sweater makes your hand twitch to cuddle into him. the high must have gone straight to your pussy.

you pull your eyes away from his chest, lazying them back up to his face, and you’re startled to find that he’s already looking at you. pretty intensely.

he pulls the water bottle away from his lips, only a quarter of the liquid left. but a drop manages to dribble out and slip down his chin. he raises his hand to clean it off but your hand beats it. you swipe a thumb down his chin to catch, the tip of your finger grazing his lower lip.

you freeze with your hand on his face, your eyes stuck on his parted lips. god, you really want to kiss him. he raises his free hand to gently wrap his fingers around your wrist. you swear you must sway in place because he’s much closer. you can smell his body wash. it’s intoxicating.

your eyes drift closed before you can think twice and you rise on your toes a little. you feel his nose brush yours before anything else. and for one count you both breathe into each other’s waiting mouths. everything is so syrupy; time is fuzzy. and you’re drowning in his smell.

why did he also have to smell so good?

he closes the gap, however small it may have been. there’s a brief hesitation from him when his lips press to yours. but you don’t give him a real chance to change his mind. to regret his decision. because you practically wrap yourself around him. the arm that’s not being held in place by his hand loops around his neck. it forces him closer to you while it flattens your front to his.

your lips part, urging him to deepen the kiss and he does. his tongue snakes into your mouth and presses wetly against yours. his mouth is a little cold from the water, but that only serves to strengthen the shiver that runs down your spine when he trails a hand down to cup your ass.

it’s unexpected, the pressure he applies there. but you moan anyway. that seems to encourage him and he brings his other hand down to grip you in the same way. you tighten your hold around his neck, continuing to kiss him in dizzying circles.

your feet are locked around his waist at some point. he used the leverage he had on your ass to pick you up. you really didn’t think he could get hotter.

but you speak too soon again. he plops you down onto your counter, his hands now firmly on your hips as he drags you to the edge of the counter to be flush against him.

you’re not sure how this all happened. too fast. you’re too desperate to want to stop and take your time. not when every touch lingers and sizzles as he drags his fingers along exposed skin.

he pulls away for you to breathe and you’re silently thankful. you would have suffocated on that kiss if he let you. but your lips aren’t unoccupied for long because you drag them along the column of his neck. he shivers in your embrace.

there’s a bit of black ink poking out from the collar of his hoodie, and you couldn’t stop the temptation to lick it if you tried.

your tongue darts out and you use just the tip of your tongue to graze along his collarbone. a groan rattles around his chest and involuntarily your thighs tighten around his waist.

his hands slip beneath your t-shirt easily from how thin it is. and suddenly you no longer regret not wearing an extra layer. his fingers are warm as they coast up your sides and you press yourself further into his touch, urging his hands higher until his fingers skim the soft skin of your breast. you moan lightly into his neck, mouth still kissing and sucking at him.

you can tell he’s trying not to overstep. to restrain himself. his fingers are curious but unsure.

“law,” you whisper against his throat, watching as his skin litters with goosebumps. one of your hands slips beneath your shirt to grab hold of his and you place his large palm directly over you. he squeezes and you gasp. your mind just melts under his attention as you lift your face to capture his lips again.

it’s all tongue and whines and you want more from him. your hand drifts down his torso, lifting the hem of his hoodie until your fingertips meet the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. how is he so warm?

he shivers again, his body curving into you.

your fingers barely breach beneath the fabric of his pants when the doorbell rings. chopper jumps off the couch and barks loudly at the interruption. law nearly jumps halfway across the kitchen from the sudden commotion. his body is ripped from yours and you’re left breathless, confused.

“the pizza,” you say when you remember. everything feels delayed. time doesn’t make much sense when your mind is foggy from kissing.

“I’ll grab it,” law says, but you don’t miss the way he readjusts himself in his pants when he turns away from you. a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips at the sight.

part four

#ok maybe we’re getting somewhere sexy #who knows #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #shortnspicy🌶️#neighbor!law au

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tootiecakes234 · 1 year ago

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I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

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aquaholicsanonymousworld · 25 days ago

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Everything’s Fine | Pairing: Thunderbolts x Reader x Robert Reynolds/Sentry/Void | Warnings: ED themes, Mental Spiral

They call again.

Your phone buzzes against the cracked kitchen counter, the screen flickering weakly like it’s as tired as you are. Another call — another name flashing. Bucky this time. Or maybe it’s Yelena. Maybe it’s Ava again. You’ve stopped checking.

You let it ring. You always do. Because everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. Bob just needs time.

Your reflection in the window says otherwise.

Hollow eyes. Skin tight against sharp bones. Bruises blooming dark and sickly along your arms, your ribs — marks of walls hit in your sleep, fists slammed against doors when you were trying not to scream.

Your hands shake as you clutch the phone. Don’t answer. Don’t let them come. Don’t let them hurt him.

Void is watching.

You feel him even now, a shadow curling at the edges of the room, a low thrum in your skull. His voice — deep and poisonous and soothing all at once — whispers: "They’ll take him from you. They’ll destroy what’s left. Only you can protect him. Only you understand."

You swallow hard. You haven’t eaten in days — not really. Nibbles here and there, just enough to stay on your feet during training. But your body is screaming now, muscles weak, stomach gnawing itself hollow.

And still, you whisper back: "I can do this. I can be strong. I can fix this. For Bob."

It’s been a week. A week since Robert vanished inside himself, swallowed by the Void. A week since you last saw the golden flicker of the Sentry in his eyes. A week since you locked the doors of the old Stark Tower and told the world outside that everything’s fine.

The Thunderbolts have been patient. Too patient. But today they stop waiting.

The knock at the door isn’t a knock — it’s a battering ram of authority.

You flinch so hard you drop your phone, heart slamming against your ribs.

Void growls in your ear: “They’re here to take him from you. Are you going to let them? Weak, pathetic little thing. You couldn’t even hold your own in training — always second-best, always failing. You’ll fail him too.”

Your hands clamp over your ears. “Stop. Stop—”

But the door crashes open before you can sink deeper.

They see you.

Ghost. Bucky. Walker. All of them — frozen in the doorway as they take in the wreck you’ve become.

The once-proud Siren, shining and strong, now gaunt and gray-skinned, trembling in too-big clothes, dark circles so deep they look like bruises. Your lips are cracked. Your cheeks are sunken.

And still you smile weakly at them, voice hoarse as you croak: "Everything's fine. Bob’s just… he just needs more time. Don’t fight. Don’t make this worse—"

But your body betrays you. Your knees buckle and Yelena lunges forward to catch you before you hit the ground. Your pulse is weak. Your skin is cold.

And when she pulls you close, she can feel the fine tremble of someone who’s been running on empty — no food, no sleep, just adrenaline and sheer willpower that’s finally running dry.

"Where is he?" Bucky’s voice is sharp and cold. His jaw ticks.

You try to answer, but the shame chokes you — thick and heavy.

Void curls around your spine, hissing: “Look at you. A disgrace. You call yourself a Siren? You’re nothing but bones and failure. Couldn’t even beat your class. Couldn’t keep him safe. Couldn’t save your own damn self.”

Your hands claw at your chest as the spiral starts — ugly and familiar: "You’re worthless. You let them down. You let Bob down. You let yourself rot away because you thought if you just got smaller if you just got better, it would fix everything—"

"Hey!" Yelena snaps, voice cracking through the storm. She grabs your face and forces your glassy eyes to meet hers. "Stop it. Come back. Don’t let him do this to you."

Somewhere in the shadows, Void snarls — the presence flaring so dark and cold it makes the lights in the room flicker.

"You don’t touch what’s mine," the Void rumbles, using Bob’s voice but twisted, guttural. "She belongs to me."

The team braces, weapons out. And you — shaking, crying, bones aching — still try to stand between them and the Void.

"Please… don’t fight… he just needs time… I can fix this—" But your body gives out.

You collapse into Yelena’s arms, sobbing, the weight of a week’s worth of starvation, bruises, failure, and love gone toxic finally crushing you down. And that’s when they know. This isn’t just about saving Bob anymore. It’s about saving you, too. Before the Void swallows you both whole.

"Don’t touch her." The Void’s voice slithers out from the darkened corners of the old Stark Tower, slick as oil and cold as space. Black tendrils pulse and writhe, the air humming with that low, oppressive static that makes your skin crawl.

Your body is deadweight in Yelena’s arms — but it’s not Yelena this time. It’s Ghost, Ava, her glitching form flickering as she crouches beside you, whispering sharp, fast words you can barely process.

"Focus. Breathe. He’s in your head. Fight back."

But you can’t. Your chest is tight. Your stomach is empty. Your throat is raw from nights spent sobbing into your own shaking hands while the Void crooned lies about love loyalty and sacrifice.

Above you, the Thunderbolts fan out like wolves.

Bucky’s metal arm flexes, gun already aimed dead center at the biggest tendril. His mouth is set in a hard, grim line — soldier mode. Zero tolerance.

Yelena flips her baton in her hand, eyes sharp as razors. She glances at you and flinches — just a little — at the sight of how wrecked you look.

Red Guardian cracks his knuckles, broad shoulders rolling back. "We take Void down, we take Bob back," he grunts. "Simple." But his eyes flicker toward you too, and there’s a flicker of something pained behind all that bravado.

And John Walker — US Agent — is already itching for a fight. "About damn time we shut this thing down," he snaps, shield slamming against his forearm. "Look at her. She’s falling apart. You let this thing keep her like some goddamn hostage? Not today."

"You’re weak." Void's voice spikes again, cruel and coiling, directed at you. “Couldn’t even finish your training. Couldn’t even keep food down. All that power they promised you — wasted. Useless. Not worth saving.”

Your breath hitches. Your fingernails dig into your palms, so hard you feel the sting of broken skin. Not worth saving. Not worth saving.

Yelena’s voice cuts through like a blade. "Get up."

You blink through tears. She’s standing over you now, her baton crackling with electricity, gaze locked on yours — sharp and merciless.

"I said, get up." she growls. "You are not dying here. You are not letting that thing keep you down. You are Siren, yeah? Then act like it."

Ghost’s hand clamps around your wrist, grounding you. "Breathe. In. Out. You know how. Come back."

Bucky’s voice, gruff but steady: "We’ve got Bob. You get you."

Void shrieks — the walls shudder. Black energy lashes out, slamming into Red Guardian, who grunts and stumbles back but stays standing.

"You can’t save her. She belongs to me."

John Walker’s had enough. He charges, shield-first, slamming into the tendrils with brute force. "Get the hell outta here, freak!" he snarls. "She’s not yours!"

And something breaks inside you.

Because for the first time in a week — after starving, breaking, crying yourself raw —you hear someone say it: You’re not his.

Your breath shudders in. Your hands flex weakly.

Yelena sees it. She crouches down, grabs your face roughly, cheeks hollow and bruised under her grip. "You hear me? You are not his. You are ours. Thunderbolt. Fighter. You get up now, or I swear to god I drag your bony ass up myself."

Above you, the Void roars. "Lies. Lies. She’s mine—"

Your voice cracks, hoarse and trembling but yours: "No… I’m not… I’m not yours—"

Bucky fires. The shot slices through a tendril, black mist hissing as it evaporates. Red Guardian wades in, fists swinging, bellowing curses in Russian. Walker slams his shield again and again, driving the Void back with sheer stubborn violence. Yelena doesn’t let go of you. Her fingers dig in harder. "Get. Up." she snarls.

You scream. A raw, broken, ugly sound — all your shame, all your failure, all the self-hate Void fed you — ripping out of your throat. And you push yourself up. Shaking. Crying. But standing.

"Bob—" you gasp. You can feel him now, buried deep under the Void’s storm, small and flickering like a dying ember. "Bob, come back—"

Void lashes out, enraged — but the Thunderbolts are already on him, battering down every inch of black with fists, batons, bullets, and shields.

Yelena shoves you forward. "Call him back. Now!"

Your voice breaks again as you scream through the static: "ROBERT REYNOLDS—COME BACK TO ME!"

For a heartbeat — everything stops.The Void freezes. The tendrils flicker. And then—gold light. Faint. Weak. But there. Behind the black.

"…Y/N?" His voice. Small. Cracked. But Bob.

You fall to your knees, sobbing, as the Thunderbolts keep fighting, buying you those precious seconds to reach him — to drag him back from the dark.

"Please, Bob—please—come back—"

Void howls — but you don’t hear it anymore. Because for the first time in a week, the gold light gets brighter.

The Void shrieks as it breaks apart. Like tar peeling off burning gold.

Your knees hit the floor hard — but you barely feel it. You’re too busy clawing through the dark with your voice, hoarse and cracked and desperate. "Bob—please—come back—"

And then—light. Not blinding, not golden, and godlike like he used to be. But soft. Flickering. Human.

Robert Reynolds collapses out of the storm like a broken angel. Face pale, sweat-soaked, trembling. Blonde hair matted and tangled, golden aura flickering weakly around him.

His eyes open — blue, dazed — and the second they land on you, they shatter.

"Y/N—" he croaks, voice breaking. And then louder, panicked, raw: "Y/N—oh my god—"

You flinch. Instinct. Too used to pain, too used to the Void’s voice crawling down your spine. Your body, thin and shaking, tries to curl in on itself like you can disappear.

But Bob is already scrambling toward you, crawling on his hands and knees like a man on fire.

"No—no—look at me—" His hands grab your face, gentle but shaking as if he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he squeezes too hard.

His eyes take you in, the sharp bones under your skin, the bruises blooming like wilted flowers, the way your lips are cracked and bleeding because you chewed them raw trying to stay silent.

"I didn’t know—" His voice breaks on a sob. "I didn’t know he was doing this to you—"

Behind you, the Thunderbolts stand down. Walker’s breathing hard, Yelena turns her back, giving you privacy. Bucky lowers his gun. Red Guardian mutters something soft and bitter in Russian, but even he looks away. They give you this. Because they know this is your moment.

"I’m sorry—" Bob sobs, pulling you into him. His body shakes so hard it rattles your ribs. "I let him—I let him get into your head—oh god, Y/N—"

You’re crying, too hot, messy, choking sobs that scrape your throat raw. Your hands clutch at his shirt, thin fingers knotting in the fabric like you’re drowning.

"You left—" you sob against his chest. "You left me alone—I—I didn’t know what to do—"

His arms crush you tighter, desperate. "I’m here—I’m here now—I’m sorry—I didn’t know—I swear—"

His fingers map over your battered body like he’s trying to count every bruise, every scar, every rib poking out from weeks of not eating.

His voice cracks again: "You’re so thin—what did he—god, what did I—"

Your knees give out completely. But he holds you up. Both of you shaking. Both of you crying. Both of you broken. But together.

You don’t even notice the others moving — Ghost pressing a protein bar into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky quietly, carefully, setting it down next to you.

Walker grunts. "We’ll handle clean-up. You two… fix this." Yelena just mutters: "Idiots." But her voice is rough. Emotional.

Bob cups your face again, and presses his forehead to yours, golden light flickering weakly between you like a dying flame trying to catch.

"You didn’t fail." His voice is soft but fierce now. "You didn’t fail me. You didn’t fail yourself. You fought. You stayed."

You hiccup through tears. "But I—I couldn’t eat—I couldn’t sleep—I thought if I just got smaller—if I just waited—"

His sob chokes out. "No—no, baby, no—you don’t have to do that—you never have to do that—"

His hands tremble as they cradle your head. "We get better now, okay? Together. I’m getting you help. I’m staying. No more Void. No more lies. No more hurting yourself for me. Please—"

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Your voice is barely a whisper: "Don’t leave me again."

His answer is instant. "Never."

He kisses your forehead, tears dripping onto your skin. "Never again."

Behind you, the Thunderbolts give you that space. They know the fight is over —and the healing begins now. Messy. Slow. Painful. But real. Because this time… you’re not doing it alone.

216 notes · View notes

reverie-starlight · 4 months ago

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gn!reader, no physical descriptions. it's implied that reader understands german, but no reason behind that is given, feel free to decide for yourself. FLUFF!! I love kaiser sm it's crazy and I love making him a softie even more, I don't care <3

based on prompt 12 from this list :)

the world outside is calm. the trees and grass are covered in a soft, untouched blanket of white. ponds are frozen over and icicles are hanging from the bottoms of bridges. dawn steadily approaches and a once dark landscape will soon be littered with gold.

inside of michael kaiser’s countryside property, however?

“liebling, please, I need to get up!” the blond pleads.

chaos.

he’s been trying to go on his morning run for what feels like hours at this point. trying and failing.

as soon as his alarm went off twenty minutes ago, you had woken up and whined about it being too early to do anything productive. he had shushed you and allowed himself five more minutes in bed, even going as far as to let you curl into his side.

clearly that was a mistake, because you still haven’t let go of him, even as he tries to maneuver himself into a sitting position.

“no,” you mumble into his side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

he groans and tries to pry your arms off. “hase, come on. I’ll be back before you know it!”

“no!” you repeat, this time with more bite behind it. “we’re on holiday, michael, you can go on your run later!”

you know asking him to skip one day would be for naught, so you attempt to compromise with him.

“or I could just get it out of the way now, and cuddle for the rest of the morning once I’m back!”

to no avail, of course. he's stubborn, but so are you.

“you’ll be all sweaty and gross!”

“that’s what we have a shower for, schatz.”

“but it’s not the sameeee,” you roll your eyes and drag out the word. “just stay with me and cuddle.”

he cards a hand through his hair and tries to keep any signs of amusement off of his face. kaiser isn’t annoyed with you in the slightest- in fact he's kind of relieved that you’re being clingy right now. it makes him feel wanted. desired.

loved.

he knows that he’ll get his run in today no matter what, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy messing with you.

even if it is six in the morning.

so when he feels your grip loosen just enough, he quickly stands and attempts to make his way into the bathroom to get ready. he assumes you'll follow him into the bathroom and talk his ear off to wear him down, or maybe even insist upon him carrying you as he gets his morning routine done.

what he doesn’t anticipate, however, is you jumping on his back and causing him to lose his balance.

“you can’t escape my cuddles, micha, but nice try,” you say once he’s steady again and holding onto your thighs to keep you from slipping.

“how do you even have the energy to do that this early?!” he gasps.

you nuzzle into his neck from behind. “I could ask you the same thing about your run, baby.”

he finally lets one little laugh slip out- he personally wouldn’t even count it as such, it’s more of an aggressive exhale, but of course you do.

and as always, you can sense his crumbling resolve. you know exactly where to hit him where he’s weak.

“c’mon, baby, sleep in with me a little longer,” you whisper, trailing kisses up his neck and towards his sensitive ears. “you don’t want to leave me freezing cold and all alone in our bed, do you?”

his left ear twitches slightly, but he doesn’t waiver and you smirk, letting go and falling back onto the semi-firm mattress (he insists upon semi-firm because it's better for lumbar support. he'd be damned if a bad back were to keep him away from soccer). “all right, I guess… if that’s what you want…”

you count for three beats in your head before you're grinning triumphantly and welcoming him back into your arms. apparently the guilt of leaving you in bed on holiday is too much for him to bear. "du bist unerträglich, weißt du das?" he mumbles into your chest.

you snicker and run your hands through his soft hair. "I know."

"and you're coming with me on my run later," he peeks up at you, daring you to deny him.

you sigh and stare up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to take in the last moments of peace before you have to get up for real. "yeah, I figured you'd say that."

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

(rough) translation: you're unbearable, you know that?

hope you enjoyed!!

@emmyrosee this is why I asked for a random number lol

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader fluff #kaiser fluff

260 notes · View notes

shyoko · 29 days ago

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Chapter 1: 𝐘'𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄

The Heiress Of Darkness

The morning cold seeped through the seams of your coat, chilling you to the bone even though the sky was clear. You had arrived early at the university and were taking refuge in your notes, rereading paragraphs without really processing them. Your eyes followed the written lines, but your mind… was elsewhere.

Then, the sound of an engine sliced through the air. A police car.

Your body tensed instantly, a shiver running down your spine. You forced your mind to calm down, even though panic was beginning to rise in your chest.

Your thoughts started to drift. “Don’t let them see me. Please, don’t let them see me,” you thought as your eyes followed the officer. The memory of the party rushed back into your mind, fast and cruel. The images flashed through your head as quickly as you tried to shut them down. Anxiety took hold of you, and you wished with all your strength for everything to go unnoticed.

The officer walked confidently toward the entrance, but before going in, his eyes met yours. For a moment, you felt the weight of his gaze, the direct contact that made your breathing grow slightly heavier. However, before your body could react, he turned to give an order to the young man accompanying him.

He was a tall guy, about twenty-five. Attractive, the kind of attractive you can’t help but notice, the kind that makes you want to look at him longer than is appropriate. He smiled at you—a sticky kind of smile that, for some reason, made you want to smile back, despite how uncomfortable you felt in that moment.

Eventually, they disappeared through the entrance, leaving you alone with the echo of their footsteps. The anxiety still churned in your stomach. That’s when you felt a warm hand rest on your shoulder. It was Jake, a good friend from university—not close enough to hang out outside of class, but always there to keep you company.

“Y/n!”—Jake’s voice pulled you out of your head. He approached quickly, brow furrowed, expression more serious than usual—“I was looking for you… Are you okay?”

You blinked, confused by his intensity. Jake rarely showed anything beyond his relaxed demeanor. But today there was something different about him. His eyes shone with a mix of tension and concern.

“What’s going on?” you asked, trying to sound natural.

Jake looked around, as if making sure no one was too close, then lowered his voice.

“I can’t believe what happened…”—he swallowed, visibly shaken—“At the party on Saturday… someone… someone died, Y/n. They found him on the terrace. A guy. I don’t know who discovered him, but it was after midnight. They say it was horrible.”

His words hit like heavy stones. Your stomach twisted.

“A… body?” you repeated, the word barely leaving your lips.

Jake nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. The police are already here. They’re talking to everyone who was at the party. Asking questions… they want to know who saw him last, if anyone noticed anything weird. They’re not saying it officially, but… you can tell they suspect everyone.”

He was silent for a moment, then looked at you intently.

“You weren’t there, right?”—His voice dropped even lower—“I didn’t see you… but with so many people, I’m not sure.”

“No, I didn’t go,” you answered immediately. Your voice sounded distant. Forced.

Jake nodded, relieved for a second, but his face hardened again.

“I’m glad. Because… damn, Y/n, it was really messed up. I was there, I saw the guy before everything went to hell. He was alive. And a few hours later…”—he broke off, running a hand down his face—“I’ve never been so close to something like this.”

You noticed his breathing quicken. His usual facade was cracking.

“Are you okay?”— you asked, feeling panic creeping into your voice too.

“I don’t know. I haven’t slept. Nobody knows what happened. They don’t know if it was an accident, a fight, something else…”—He brought a hand to his chest, as if trying to steady himself—“Just… be careful, okay? Don’t say anything that could be misunderstood. Even if you weren’t there, you know how rumors are. And if they call you, cooperate, but… be cautious.”

You nodded slowly, unsure if you could trust your own voice. The scene felt more unreal by the second. The world spun too fast.

Jake took a deep breath and tried to offer a half-smile, but it didn’t work. This time, he didn’t even pretend.

“This is going to change everything.”

Class began, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t concentrate. The professor’s words bounced around in your head without leaving a mark. Your whole body was tense, your mind trapped in dark thoughts, memories that made your skin crawl, and emotions you didn’t know where to place.

Then, a sound broke the constant murmur of the classroom: the door opened with a soft creak. Two figures entered. The same officers you had seen that morning. The air seemed to freeze in the room. Eyes locked on them—some curious, others afraid. You simply… stopped breathing.

They started calling students, one by one, calmly, as if nothing strange were happening. But every name they said felt like a countdown speeding up your heartbeat.

Until they called yours.

“Y/n” a deep, firm voice pronounced.

You stood up quickly, trying to seem calm, though your hands trembled as you closed your backpack. You walked toward the door. And then you saw him. Him.

The guy from the car.

His eyes met yours, and for an instant, everything seemed to stop. His face was serene, calm, almost kind, in contrast to the tension you felt. He nodded for you to follow him.

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a chair across from his.

You did, trying to control your movements. He settled into his seat, pulled a notebook from the inner pocket of his jacket, and with a soft smile, added:

“Just a few questions, nothing complicated. Answer honestly, okay?”

His voice was firm, but there was a warm tone to it, almost comforting. His uniform fit him perfectly, and although you tried not to look, it was hard not to notice how well it suited him. He had soft features, but with a firm structure. You didn’t know how to describe it, but he made you feel… safe.

“Did you know the victim?”

You shook your head immediately.

“Not personally. I’ve seen him in class, but nothing more. I’m sorry,” you answered softly.

He nodded, taking notes.

“Did you attend the party?”

Again, you shook your head.

“No, I didn’t go. I stayed home.”

“I see,” he said, and for a moment seemed to study you more closely—“Alright, in case you remember anything that could help, or if someone says something strange…”—He pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to you—“This is my number.”

You reached out to take it, and for a second, your fingers brushed against his. The contact was brief, but enough to send a shiver through your skin. He smiled—one of those smiles that didn’t seem forced, but reassuring.

“Call me for anything. Information, questions, or if you just need to talk to someone who’s not part of all this chaos.”

You hesitated for a second, surprised by the almost personal tone of his offer, and before you could say anything, he added with a half-smile:

“I promise I don’t bite… unless absolutely necessary.”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. He smiled too, wider now.

“See you, Y/n,” he said finally, with a voice so calm it almost promised everything would be okay.

The bell rang throughout the university, marking the end of classes. Most students hurried out, whispering among themselves—some nervous, others as if nothing had happened. But you didn’t move. You stayed in your seat a few seconds longer, silent, eyes lost somewhere beyond the window.

You slowly gathered your things, carrying that invisible knot in your stomach that hadn’t left you all day. The classroom nearly emptied. You walked down the hallway as if it didn’t belong to you, as if the world felt a bit farther away than usual.

The afternoon cold crept through your coat as you made your way home, but you barely felt it. Your mind was elsewhere. On him.

Evan, or that's what it said on the card with his number.

His eyes had been the first thing. So calm, so… attentive. Not cold, like the other officer’s, nor empty like everyone else’s around you lately. He truly looked at you, as if you were more than just a line in a report.

And his voice. Serious, but not harsh. Almost warm. As if he didn’t want to scare you. As if, in some strange way, he already wanted to protect you.

You slipped a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out the paper he had given you. “In case you remember anything, or need to talk.”

You had read it over and over in your mind. There was no special phrase written on it—just his name—Evan—and his number. But for some reason, just having it made breathing a little easier.

You tucked it away again as if it were something fragile.

You walked the rest of the way with your heart beating strangely. As if something had been lit deep inside you without your realizing it.

When you got home, you let your body collapse onto the soft mattress in your room, allowing everything that troubled you to slowly fade from your mind, just as the tension left your muscles. The warmth of the blanket against your cold body, combined with the silent and calming atmosphere, made it easy to close your eyes and surrender to the kind of rest you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Night had already fallen when you woke up. For some reason, that day had felt different, calmer. A day in which the only sound was the whisper of small animals moving through the dark alleys of the deserted street, until a growl from your stomach broke the stillness, demanding you eat something. You got up and went to the kitchen in search of something to eat. You rummaged through every drawer, but nothing. There was nothing in the fridge either, and the same happened with the pantry.

A big sigh escaped your lips. Why did you have expired yogurts from two months ago in the fridge? Good question, but that didn’t matter now. Still tired, you decided that, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do, it was time to go buy something. It was eight o’clock in the evening, and you had to hurry before it got any later.

You put on something warm and comfortable, and quickly headed to the door. When your hand touched the cold knob, a chill ran down your spine, accompanied by a persistent thought: “Don’t go out.” You ignored it, and before leaving, you grabbed your small purse, where you kept your keys, wallet, and phone.

...

You walked through the deserted streets, where only the shadows of some stray cats watched you curiously. You took the usual path to the store, the one you had walked a thousand times. Once there, you picked up the essentials: food, paper, some cleaning products. Just enough not to feel too loaded.

With two bags in your hands, you left the store and said goodbye to the clerk. The cold had intensified, and a light fog had spread through the streets. You quickened your pace to get home as soon as possible, but after a few steps, you heard a noise behind you.

A tall figure was walking a few meters away, and your heart began to race. A chill ran through your body, not from the cold, but from fear. Your steps quickened, choosing a slightly different route than usual. The figure followed you, and the wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees violently.

Without thinking, you ran. You didn’t dare look back, afraid of slowing down. But the heavy footsteps of the man behind you were clearly audible. Your breathing became erratic, and your legs began to ache to the point of giving out. Suddenly, you felt a strong hand grabbing your wrist, pulling you back. A scream of desperation escaped your throat as you struggled to free yourself from his grip. With a strength you never imagined you had, you kicked him in the stomach. A groan of pain escaped his lips, and his grip loosened, giving you the chance to drop the bags and run.

After a few minutes, you saw your house in the distance. The streets were increasingly covered by fog, and the lights in the homes had already gone out, leaving you completely alone in the deserted street, with someone still chasing you. You sped up, pulled the keys from your purse, and upon reaching the entrance, tried to open the door with trembling hands. The door made a faint sound as it opened, but before you could step inside, you felt the same calloused hand that had grabbed you before holding you tightly.

Another scream escaped your lips. "L-LET ME GO!" You struggled with all your strength, fighting to free yourself from his grip, feeling his fingers tightening more and more around your wrist. With a final shove, you managed to get inside the house, but the man’s weight stayed firm, preventing you from closing the door. Desperate, you found yourself wrestling against the door with all your might, but you couldn’t shut it.

The man’s hand pushed harder, and the fear grew with each second. The sound of the wind and the creaking of the door under the struggle filled the air, while you desperately tried to make it give. Panic took hold of you, increasingly aware that if you couldn’t close it, he would be inside again.

Then, with superhuman effort, you stopped fighting the door and ran toward the living room, knowing it was your only chance. He followed you quickly, his steps pounding with fury as he approached aggressively. You turned, fear taking over your body, and before he could reach you, you grabbed the vase from the table. Its weight in your hands felt heavy, but you didn’t care. With a swift motion, you threw it with all the strength you could muster at his head.

The impact was brutal, and a dull sound filled the room as the vase struck him. The ceramic smashed against his face, leaving a mark of fresh blood. The man staggered, falling to the ground with a groan of pain.

Blood began to gush strongly, splattering the living room floor. Your body, trembling and overwhelmed, stopped functioning clearly. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed to the floor as tears began to stream from your eyes. Had you just killed him? What were you going to do now? Would they accuse you of murder?

The questions didn’t stop, but none could change the fact that there was a lifeless body in your house—and you were the one who killed him. Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat, and a small spark of hope ignited inside you. You ran to the bedroom, desperately searching through your backpack. There were books, a laptop, your pencil case, and… there it was, Evan’s number—the police officer from that morning.

Maybe it was crazy and you’d end up in jail for murder, but he was the only person who had shown any concern for you. You knew maybe he had only done it out of courtesy, but something deep inside you had made you feel safe when he was around. His protective gaze, his soft voice whispering that he’d take care of you, the gentleness of his fingers when you took the paper with his number… all of that made you feel safe.

You grabbed the paper, dialed his number with trembling fingers, barely able to see the screen through the tears blurring your vision. You pressed the phone to your ear, your ragged breathing betraying the panic you felt.

"Hello?" —Evan answered naturally, as if he were taking any routine call. But it only took a second.

“E-Evan…” —you stammered between sobs, your voice broken and barely audible.

The pause on the other end was brief, but it completely changed the tone of his voice.

"Y/n… what happened? Are you okay?"

“No… I’m not… Something horrible happened… Please, I need you to come, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do…” —your voice shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Calm down. I’m on my way. Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there in a few minutes."

He hung up without waiting for a reply.

You didn’t know exactly how much time had passed. It could’ve been ten minutes or thirty. Time didn’t exist. Only the weight of the body on the floor, the blood spilled near your rug, and you, trembling by the wall, knees to your chest and the phone still in your hand.

A few firm knocks on the door pulled you out of your trance.

You went to open it with trembling hands and red eyes. Evan was there. His face, usually relaxed and warm, now showed a mix of alertness, concern, and something harder to decipher.

Seeing the state you were in, he didn’t ask questions. He stepped inside quickly, looked around, and then saw the body.

He turned to you and took a step forward. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head, but the tears kept streaming down your face. You threw yourself at him, speaking in broken, senseless fragments. “He followed me from the store… came in… I couldn’t close the door… I fought him… I didn’t want to kill him… I just wanted… wanted him to go away… I didn’t know what to do… I—” “Y/n,” —he interrupted gently, gripping your arms firmly— “Breathe. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you, okay?”

Without thinking, he hugged you. His arm wrapped around you tightly, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could let your guard down. You rested your forehead on his shoulder and let the tears fall.

“We’re going to figure this out. You’re not alone. I’ve got this.”

You stayed like that for a few seconds. When you finally pulled away, your face still wet and your heart racing.

“Thank you…” —you whispered.

He nodded seriously, already turning his attention to the body. His expression hardened again as he crouched to observe it without touching anything. “Now we’re going to call my colleagues. But don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

And so, amid the blood, fear, and adrenaline, something inside you clung to the warmth of his presence.

Not long after Evan radioed in, two patrols arrived. The officers entered the apartment with measured steps, serious faces, and routines carved by protocol. Tape, photographs, gloves. The body was removed, wrapped in a white sheet, and the apartment was left filled with low voices, footsteps, and forensic camera flashes.

You remained sitting on a corner of the couch, a blanket over your shoulders that Evan had found nearby. Your fingers toyed with the edge as if that fabric was the only thing anchoring you to the present.

One of the officers approached Evan, glancing at you. “Can we?” —he asked quietly. Evan looked at you and shook his head, firmly. “No. I’ve got this. She’s in shock.” The other nodded, no argument. They trusted him.

One by one, the officers finished and left, the apartment a little emptier, though no less heavy. When the door closed and silence returned, you realized how late it was.

You looked at the microwave clock. 11:04 PM.

“Have you eaten anything today?” —Evan asked, turning to you as he picked up some of the mess in the room. You shook your head faintly. “I’m not really hungry after all this…” —you whispered. He let out a soft but steady sigh. “Me neither, but it’s important that you eat something. It’ll help, even if it’s just a little.” “I don’t think I could swallow anything right now.” “Then we’ll eat together. Something quick. I’ll make you if I have to.” —he tried to lighten the moment with a smile that barely curved his lips— “Come on. I can make some decent scrambled eggs.”

You cooked in silence, side by side. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a heavy one. You tried to appear calm, but inside, your thoughts raced.

Why had that man come? How did he find you? Was he really connected to… to that?

A knot formed in your stomach, not just from what had happened, but from the fear that everything was starting to fall apart.

What if Evan knew? What if he suspected something?

But his face showed nothing but calm and focus. His gaze told you everything: “You’re safe.”

You sat across from each other, both with simple plates, barely hungry but pretending it was normal. “Do you remember exactly what he said before attacking you?” —he asked softly, not pressing. You hesitated a moment before answering, your fork spinning in your fingers. “No… he just… followed me from the store. He didn’t say anything. Just… tried to get in. I tried to shut the door, but he was faster…” Evan nodded, not taking notes or recording you. He just listened. He trusted you. “You did what you had to do. It wasn’t your fault, Y/n.” You nodded slightly, though inside you knew it wasn’t that simple. You couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet. You couldn’t tell him that part of you did know why that man had come after you.

But he didn’t know. Or so you wanted to believe.

All you could do now was stay calm… and wait.

The sound of the fork against the plate was the only thing filling the silence in the kitchen. You ate without much appetite, moving slowly, your thoughts coming and going like gusts of wind. Evan, however, seemed to have all the time in the world. He sat across from you, elbows on the table, a calm expression on his face. “You know you’re not allowed to leave the edges of the omelet on the plate, right?” —he said with a faint smile, tilting his head. You looked at him with a mix of exhaustion and confusion. “I’m not hungry…” “I know.” —he replied softly— “Me neither. But if we faint from weakness, we’ll look terrible in the investigation photos. Trust me, it’s not a good look.” You let out a low laugh, somewhere between exhaustion and surprise. It was a dumb joke… but a necessary one. He noticed it, and his smile grew a little more. “There it is. First smile of the night. If I get one more, I get a promotion.” “Is that how promotions work in the police?” —you asked, glancing at him. “Of course. Whoever makes traumatized victims smile the most gets a medal. And a free pizza. State-sponsored.” You shook your head, but something in your chest loosened. Evan’s presence had that strange ability to ease your burdens without you noticing. “Do you feel a little better?” “A little.” —you admitted quietly— “It still all feels… surreal.” “It is.” —he said sincerely, lowering his gaze for a moment— “But you survive the surreal too. And you’re doing well. Really well.” You looked back at the plate. You hesitated a few seconds… and finally took another bite. You felt him glance at you subtly, but he didn’t say anything.

After a while, while he set his cup down on the counter, you gathered your courage and asked: “Hey… how did you know where I live?” He turned, as if he had expected the question. He stepped closer again with a smile you weren’t sure was reassuring or unsettling. “Are you asking if I’m a professional stalker or just one with a police badge?” You shot him a look. “That’s not funny.” “I know, I know.” —he raised his hands— “I’ve got my methods. I guess I… wanted to make sure you were okay. And also, well… I’m a cop. Even if I’m not always the most by-the-book one, I promise tonight I used my powers for good.” You pursed your lips, still slightly frowning. But you said nothing more. He noticed you were withdrawing again and quickly changed his tone. “Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable that I show up like Batman in the night, I get it. I can make it up to you by cooking better next time. Do you like decent ramen or are you more of a frozen pizza kind of person?” “Are you… inviting me to dinner again?” “No. I’m warning you that if you don’t eat, I’m going to keep showing up with food until you chase me away with a broom. That’s an official threat.” Another smile. Lighter this time. More sincere. “Thank you.” —you finally said. “Don’t thank me just yet.” —he muttered as he slipped on his jacket— “You still have to survive the police interview I’m going to give you tomorrow with instant coffee and annoying questions. Get ready mentally.”

Just as Evan was putting on his jacket, something fell from his pocket and slid across the floor. A soft thud, barely noticeable, but it instantly caught your attention. You reached down to pick it up on instinct. It was an old ID card, with slightly worn edges. You turned it instinctively, but just as you were about to focus on the image, a warm hand gently wrapped around your wrist. “Give me that, please.” —Evan murmured, his voice lower, almost like it pained him to speak. You stopped. He took the card delicately before you could really see it. You only caught one name. Lee Heeseung. “Who is he?” —you asked quietly, your heart pounding. He put the card away silently, in the inner pocket of his jacket. He didn’t seem angry, but neither was he relaxed. His eyes, for a moment, lost their warmth. “Someone who… is no longer with us.” —he finally said, looking at you with a strange seriousness.

You didn’t know what to say. You just nodded very softly, though you couldn’t get that name out of your head. Then he stepped toward you, and his tone softened again. “Seriously, try to get some rest tonight. If you can’t sleep, call me, okay?” You could only nod again. Your mind was elsewhere. “See you, Y/n.” —he said at last, with a half-smile, before closing the door behind him.

Silence filled your apartment again. You stared at the door for a long time, unmoving, while a sharp feeling pierced your chest.

Lee Heeseung. Who was he? Why did he have that card? And why did something inside you say it wasn’t the first time you’d heard that name?

You felt like you knew him. Like there was more to it. And you knew you wouldn’t rest until you found out.

You stood still for a while behind the closed door, as if your mind needed time to process everything. “Lee Heeseung”… that name kept echoing in your head like an ancient memory you didn’t know the origin of, but it made your stomach twist.

You walked slowly to your room, sat in front of your desk, and turned on the laptop. You hesitated for a moment, but curiosity burned inside you. You opened the browser and started typing.

“Lee Heeseung.”

At first, nothing. Just outdated social media, empty profiles, scattered mentions without context. You kept searching. You put the name in quotes, added words like deceased, news, accident...

And then you saw it.

A headline. “Young man named Lee Heeseung found dead in his apartment. Authorities have yet to determine the cause.”

The date was just two months ago.

The news article was barely a couple of paragraphs. No photos. No explanations. Just one final line. “The case remains open, though without progress.”

You shut the laptop, not wanting to think about it any longer. You took a deep breath. You needed sleep.

But sleeping… wasn’t easy.

The moment you closed your eyes, memories began to seep in like smoke under a poorly shut door. A black car parked outside your old house. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t. A sinister face behind a window. A hand reaching for you through a crowd. The sound of heavy breathing behind you on an empty street. A scream you didn’t let out. A door shut just in time. Another one that wasn’t.

You woke with a start. Cold sweat running down your back. You looked at the clock: 3:17 AM. You hugged your knees to your chest.

It wasn’t the first time this happened. It wasn’t the first attempt. It wasn’t the first threat disguised as an accident. You knew it.

He wanted to find you.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Tried not to think about the blood, the blow, the body hitting the floor.

The alarm went off, but you were already awake. You didn’t remember sleeping, at least not really. Your eyes felt swollen, your head heavy like you were underwater, and the unease didn’t go away—it stayed, hidden but constant. The cold clung to you, even though the sun was already starting to peek in timidly.

You got out of bed with slow, almost automatic movements, as if something invisible weighed on your chest. It was that feeling of being trapped, of not being able to escape. Every step took more effort, but you kept going.

You showered without really feeling the water. The fatigue lingered in your bones, like you had been running for days without rest. You got dressed in whatever you found first, not caring to choose, just wanting to cover yourself. You didn’t want to think about anything. You just wanted the day to go by quickly.

With your headphones on, you tried to get lost in music, but soon realized you couldn’t hear anything. You just couldn’t. The heaviness stayed with you. It was like a shadow stalking you at every step, and no matter how many times you turned around, there was nothing there—just the cold morning wind brushing against your skin.

People surrounded you, laughing, talking, as if everything was normal, but you felt like you didn’t belong to that world. It was as if you were watching life from the outside. As if everything was out of focus, yet you knew you couldn’t escape that feeling of being trapped.

You reached the university without knowing how. You hadn’t noticed the walk, just moved forward like an automaton, passing among students who glanced at you out of the corner of their eyes, unaware of what was really happening inside you. Did they notice? Could they see it?

When you entered the classroom, the usual noise greeted you, but none of it made sense. It was all meaningless noise.

The rustling of paper, murmurs, footsteps on the floor—all of it felt distant, far away. Like it was part of a scene in a movie where you didn’t belong.

Your eyes searched for Jake. He was there, with his usual smile, chatting with others. He seemed unaware of what was going on in your mind. But he saw you, and his gaze paused on you, slightly puzzled.

The pain in your chest didn’t go away, but you kept it hidden, like you always had. You didn’t want anyone to notice. No one should know what you were really feeling.

All you could do was keep going.

You sat at your usual desk, your gaze lost on the board while the professor’s words barely reached your mind. Everything seemed so far away, as if nothing in the class really mattered. The noise of voices around you slowly faded, and all that remained was the weight in your chest you couldn’t ignore. The fear was still there, lurking, though you didn’t know exactly why.

Jake approached you, gently touching your shoulder. You turned to him, and without meaning to, managed a smile. You knew he was worried about you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing your distraction.

You nodded automatically, without words, as if everything was under control. But it wasn’t. You couldn’t explain what you really felt. You couldn’t explain why you felt so... strange, why the air was heavy, and why you had that sense of being watched.

Jake, as always, tried to chat a little, but the conversation passed without you really engaging in it. It was clear you weren’t really there. Your mind was still trapped in something you couldn’t get out of your head.

Class ended, and as you left, you felt a brief moment of relief. But at the same time, a growing discomfort. The fear kept creeping into your thoughts, like someone was waiting around every corner. The quick pace you took when exiting the classroom was almost automatic, as if something was pushing you to get out of there fast.

The cold air hit you the moment you stepped outside. It surrounded you, but at the same time made you feel more alive. Still, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder from time to time. There was no one, but the unease lingered. You felt something was wrong, that something was following you, though you couldn’t put a face to it.

When you got to your apartment, you couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Finally. You were home, where you could at least feel safe. Or so you thought.

You closed the door behind you, and for a moment, stood still. The air no longer felt as heavy, but the weight on your chest didn’t go away. Something was still circling in your mind, and though you tried to push it aside, you knew you couldn’t ignore it. Something wasn’t right, and the thought wouldn’t leave.

You shook off the fear with a sigh, but the knot in your stomach remained. What was it that you couldn’t see?

You walked to your room. Sat on the bed, breathing deeply, phone in your sweaty hands. Anxiety filled you, but you knew you couldn’t keep hiding everything. You needed to talk. Someone had to hear you, even just for a moment. And you knew it, even if you didn’t say it aloud: Evan was the one you had to go to.

The phone rang once, twice… until finally his voice came through, clear and calm. "Y/n." He said your name with a tone that gave you a bit of peace, as if he’d been expecting your call.

"Evan," you began, taking a deep breath, "I know what’s happening… and I know why they’re after me. It’s not the first time… I’ve been in this situation before." Your voice trembled a little, but you said it. Even if you weren’t revealing everything, what you felt was real. You knew what was happening, even if you weren’t ready to share it all yet.

There was a pause on the other end. He seemed to be processing what you had just said. "Y/n," he replied afterward, with a calmness that surprised you, "I promise you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out, but we need to talk in person."

You felt relieved, even though the fear was still there, waiting to be uncovered. You didn’t want to talk about everything on the phone. Not yet. "I need to see you," you insisted. "I’ll tell you everything, but not over the phone. I can’t explain all this like that." "I completely understand," he said without hesitation. "Four o’clock? You can come to my apartment. We can talk there, no pressure."

You knew he had picked up on what you were trying to say, and his response made you feel a bit calmer. "Thank you," you said, relieved that you didn’t have to keep hiding so much of what you were feeling. "See you at four." "Alright… thanks," you murmured. "See you then."

For a second, you thought the conversation would end there, but his voice came again, this time with a much lighter tone, almost playful: "Oh, and be prepared. I got promoted this week, so the new work suit is way sexier than the old one. I don’t want to distract you too much while you talk."

Almost involuntarily, you let out a small laugh under your breath. It was silly. A dumb comment, probably meaningless, but in the middle of everything you were carrying… it felt like a small breath of air. "See you at four," you said, still with a half-hidden smile.

You hung up. And for the first time in days, the loneliness didn’t feel so dark.

You ate without appetite, the weight of each bite becoming harder to swallow. The fear was still there, and although you tried to distract yourself, you couldn’t. You decided to get up, grab what you needed, and head to Evan’s house.

The walk was long, and each step felt heavier. The sensation of being watched didn’t go away. When you arrived at his house, the fear took over again. Without thinking too much, you rang the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately, and there he was.

Evan was wearing his new police uniform, and although the uniform was typical, it looked incredibly good on him. The fitted jacket accentuated his figure, showing the line of his shoulders and torso. The pants, perfectly tailored, only emphasized his height and presence even more. His hair was a little more disheveled than usual, but it made him look even more attractive, almost as if he had spent the whole afternoon working.

“Y/n?” —his voice, deep yet warm, made you feel like you weren’t alone. Before you could respond, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. The hug was brief but comforting, something about him calmed you.

“It’s okay,” —he said, as if everything you had been holding in was evident. “I’m here, calm down.” You felt fragile, but his embrace gave you some peace. When he pulled away, he looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to say something more.

“How do you feel?”

The fear was still there, but in that moment, being with him made it feel like everything would be more bearable. You entered Evan’s house, feeling the tension build in your chest. Even though the place was cozy, nothing could fully calm the unease that invaded you. The air smelled of coffee and something warmer, a scent that seemed to try to soothe you. Evan appeared from the kitchen with a kind smile, but he quickly noticed that you weren’t comfortable.

“Everything okay?” —he asked while offering you a steaming cup of tea that looked soothing.

“Relax, Y/n. You’re in a safe place.” You appreciated his gesture and took a sip of the tea. Although the warmth of the drink helped a little, your mind kept racing with everything that had happened. You couldn’t stay silent any longer, not after everything you had been through. You had to tell him what was really going on. But you didn’t know how to do it, or even where to begin.

“Evan…” —you started, trying to find the right words. “There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t know where to start, but I have to do it.”

He looked at you, his expression serious but calm. “Don’t rush, Y/n. Speak when you’re ready. There’s no hurry.”

That calmed you a little, and although the knot in your throat didn’t disappear, you felt that at least you were in a place where you could be heard. But then something caught your attention.

When Evan stood up to go to the kitchen, something shimmered on the table. It was a brief flash, but enough for you to notice. You got up and walked over to the table. There, almost hidden among some papers, was something you hadn’t seen before.

An ID card. Your pulse quickened as you recognized it. The logo. The organization. The mafia. It was the same one that had been behind everything that had happened to you. The same one that had tried to kill you several times. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Was Evan involved in this? You quickly put it away, but the sound of Evan’s footsteps approaching made you turn, and his eyes locked onto you instantly.

“What are you doing?” —he said, with a note of surprise that quickly turned into something more serious.

“Nothing.” —you said, your voice trembling. Your heart was racing, and your hands were shaking slightly. You tried to hide the card, but it was too late.

He took a step toward you, approaching slowly but decisively. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to snoop around other people’s homes?” —he asked, but his tone was no longer friendly. The joke was gone, and in his gaze, there was something darker.

“Evan…” —you began to say, but he cut you off.

“You’re so naïve, Y/n.” —his words pierced you, and you noticed how his voice had lost its previous softness. Now there was a coldness that you hadn’t noticed until that moment.

You tried to take a step back, but you couldn’t. “This isn’t what it looks like…”

“Do you really believe that?” —he interrupted you, stepping closer.

“You can’t run from who you are.” You tensed up. He was so close that you could feel his presence like a threat.

“Evan, please… let me explain.”

At that moment, he moved faster than you could react. Before you could stop him, he held you and whispered in your ear, “You think you’re so smart, but you still don’t understand anything.”

Suddenly, you felt a strong dizziness, as if your strength was leaving you. Everything around you began to spin, and although you tried to pull away, your legs failed.

“What… did you do to me?” —you managed to say in a whisper. Reality faded before your eyes, and the last thing you could see before losing consciousness was his face, now completely serious, and his barely audible words: “Sleep, Y/n. It’s the best thing you can do right now.”

You passed out in his arms, knowing, deep down, that you had been kidnapped. But there was something else, something that lingered in your mind as everything faded:

That’s why he knew your name so perfectly. That’s why he recognized your voice so well. That’s why he knew where you lived… He always knew who you were.

And this is just the beginning of what’s to come, this has only just started…

A/N: I know it hasn’t been very long and that many questions might arise, but in the upcoming chapters, you’ll begin to understand that this is just the beginning of the chaos, the hatred, and everything that’s about to unfold.

I'm sure you're going to love what's coming in the next chapter. I can't wait to finish it and for you to read it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Love you!

✦Investigative Team (Taglist - open): @wonnielov3 @yeonmuse @usuallyunlikelyfox @rustymoons @firstclassjaylee @isagistar @tunafishyfishylike @niyzu @imzhouxinyu

✦ Regular Taglist : @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers @mitmit01

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chrissturnss · 9 months ago

Text

Best friends Brother | c.s

warnings: SMUT, making out, use of nicknames, unprotected sex, praising.

summary: in which y/n comes over to her best friend, whose triplet brothers are visiting from L.A. That day one of them didn't say a word to her until that night..

word count: 2406

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

“heyy y/n” my best friend greeted me as if she hadn’t seen me in ages.. 4 hours ago. “Hi Aubrey” I said and hugged her back. "Bring your bag to my room" she said and I went up the stairs before her, she followed me "before I forget, Nick, Matt and Chris are back home and Nate is here too" she said "okay". Inside I felt this feeling in my stomach, I hadn't seen them in a long time, the last time they were in Boston I hadn't had time. Aubrey and I have known each other since kindergarten, so have I and the triplets. We grew up together, and as time went by we all changed, but to hell with Christopher Sturniolo. Who would have thought that this man would look this fine?!? I never told Aubrey that I had a crush on her brother. „you okay?“ „yeah“

we went to the backyard where we were expecting Nate, Matt and Chris. Nick came towards us in the hallway "hi y/n didn't know you were here. They're outside" he said "hi nick" we said as we passed. We continued walking, Aubrey in front of me. When we got outside the boys were sitting in their chairs. "hey y/n" said Matt "hey" Nate said looking at us. “hii” I said. "what are you doing?" Aubrey asked. I looked at Chris, he didn't even say hey or something, he looked at me, his blue eyes scanning my whole body. What are you looking for Christopher. Aubrey and I sat down. "Haven't seen each other in a long time," Matt said and smiled. "Yeah, because i-" Aubrey interrupted me "yeah, because she had a date the last time" she said and pushed my arm. "it wasn’t a date" I laugh in horror, Chris's gaze rests on me again, my eyes met his. what's wrong with him. "Cole said it was a date" she teased me. "Cole, like Cole Jackson?" Nate asked and I just nodded. "that dick?" laughed Chris. ohh the first words I heard from him today. "It wasn't even a date" I said "what did you guys do today?"

i felt at home in aubrey's home. she was already asleep, it was already dark outside. the boys were already in their rooms. i forgot my glass and my phone outside, so i went outside. on the way i didn't turn on the lights in the house, i didn't want to wake anyone up or draw trevor's attention to me. i tiptoed downwards, i sneaked out and there i saw the two things i wanted to get. i reached for the glass, but forgot my phone. i brought the glass into the kitchen and went outside again to get my phone. it was cold and i still had my dress on. when i got my phone and turned around my heart almost stopped. there was someone standing in the veranda door, turning on the outside light. "don't ever do that again christopher" i said quietly and snapped at him. "my bad". he came towards me. “what are you doing out here?” he asked. “forgot something,” i said and you could hear the nervousness in my voice. “so nervous” “i’m not” yes you are.. he stood in front of me, close, very close, my back touched the table that was behind me, I leaned on the table with my hands. My heart was racing, I could feel it, my stomach was turning, what was happening here, I felt the heat inside me and he was just standing there, until he touched me.

„i like that little dress“ he said, touching the fabric of my dress on my tight. his fingers ghosted in a small area on my skin, i felt my wetness slowly increasing, my thighs tensed and without me even noticing they tightened. chris looked up, dead in my eyes, a mischievous grin crawled onto his lips, he noticed, oh god damn.

„don't think i'll let you do anything to me. you didn't even say a word to me today, the only thing you did was stare“ I said, damn well knowing i would let him do anything to me if he kept going. and of course he did, one of his fingers slipped under my dress, circling on my skin. i looked down at his fingers and back again. my body reacted to every movement he did, i knew i was already dripping wet, i had goosebumps all over and my hands were shaking.

„you made me go crazy, hearing your pretty voice, your dress. god i was going insane“ His words made me tremble. If only he knew how often I think the exact same thing. every time I went home after hanging out with Aubrey and he was there too. I couldn't stop myself from touching me and thinking about him. fuck aubrey. I totally forgot about her. I can't, he's my best friend's brother.

„Stop Chris, what about Aubrey? I can’t she‘s my best friend“ I tried to stop us from what would happen next.

„I don’t care. I want you, I've wanted you for so long y/n.“ He whispered against my lips. My blood was rushing in my veins, my blood was boiling, my body was getting hot. I always hoped that these words would fall from Christopher Sturniolo's lips. „Chris-“ „please tell me you want this“ he almost sounded begging „I always wanted you, and now I need you“ I said, my chest heaving up and down, my breathing was so heavy, I breathed my words against his lips. My arms wrapped around his neck, my hands found places in his hair. He picked me up and sat me on the table. Our lips touched each other aggressively. One of his hands touched my breast and the other found its way under my dress, between my legs. I gasped, I felt his grin in the kiss. My hands ran down his body, slipped under his shirt and felt his abs.

„my pretty girl is already wet for me huh? I haven't even started“ He said as his fingers touched my folds. A small moan escaped my lips between our kiss. His touch sent shivers all over my body. Quiet noises escaped from my lips again my fingers were already tangled in his hair again and they clenched with every touch. "keep going with those pretty moans. I wanna hear you baby“

„chris please- i- i need you“ He gave me a quick look, his one hand pulling my dress down so my breasts were visible. "you're so beautiful baby" he said and immediately his tongue swirled around my nipples, my hands ghosted through his hair, I leaned on the table with one hand and leaned back a little, I saw his pretty face kissing my tits. My hands ran down his cheeks, I grabbed his chin and brought it to my face, he grinned cheekily and immediately our lips met again, his tongue fighting with mine.

He spread my legs and made his way down, taking off my panties. I couldn't wait, I needed him like he needed me. He didn't wait long, seeing his pretty face between my legs eating me out like I always dreamed of. I was wet, soaking wet. His moans vibrated to my most sensitive spot and through my whole body, I held his head with one hand and pressed my pussy against his face. As much as I loved his tongue, the way it hit every angle perfectly, I need him inside me. “You taste so good, I wanna do this every day” “mhm” I said, throwing my head back as he hit that spot “I wanna know how you feel wrapped around me baby” he said moving away, standing up , but two of his fingers still just slid my folds. He looked at me again, up and down, as if he was admiring me.

His absolutely wet mouth kissed me, I could taste myself. my hands made their way to his belt. I unbuckled it, broke the kiss, but looked deep into his eyes. His eyes became dark, pulling his pants down I could feel his huge dick in my hand. He was already hard, I stroked him with one hand, I wanted to suck him off, but Chris had other plans.

"look at me, wanna see you when i go in" Wrapping my arms around his neck again, he shifted me so I was closer to him. As he said, I looked at him, I felt his tip at my entrance, the slightest touch made me gasp, as he slowly pushed into me, my mouth fell open, his gaze was focused, as if he was studying my every reaction. I couldn't hold back my moan, as he went faster I couldn't hold myself together especially when he hit a certain point. "OH MY-" I screamed louder than I wanted, his hand quickly fell over my mouth, he smiled at me softly but cheekily "you want them to hear us huh" and I shook my head and took his hand away "sorry, it's just, you're better than I always thought" I said quietly "tell me more about "Your thoughts that you had about me, pretty girl" I grinned at him, brushing hair out of his face with one hand as he continued to thrust into me "You know, every time you were around, i waited until I got home to touch myself, I imagined you talking to me like that, how you feel and how good you make me feel, Christopher" "oh fuck baby"

„you should have told me this sooner" he moaned "I was thinking about how your cock would feel inside me" I whispered. "Do you remember the last time we saw each other? That night I jerked off like 4 times and god I couldn't get enough of you" his words, his thrusts, the way he looked at me and hit the right spot slowly made me weak, I knew I wouldn't last much longer. „keep going like this- oh my-“ I moaned „let me hear those pretty noises“

„cum all over my cock baby.“ he whispered. „i‘m gonna cum chris, please fuck me“ „you‘re so tight baby, you feel so good, you’re taking me so fuckin‘ good baby. cum all over my cock“ he said. The things he said were so fucking hot, I had to let go, his huge cock was pounding into me, his voice, the smell of his perfume lingered in my nose, his beautiful eyes looking at me. All of this gave me the best orgasm I've ever had in my life. „FUCK CHR-“ I moaned. "As much as I would like to hear you scream my name right now, you have to be quiet baby" he said and fucked me through my high. My Walls clenched around his cock. I had to kiss him, his tongue touching mine, he moaned into the kiss. I moved away to look into his face "come in me baby, i need you to fill me up. I need your cum inside me“ I whispered „oh fuck baby, i will. Don't worry, l'm gonna give your pussy all the cum it deserves" oh god those words driving me crazy. "please, - fuck chris fill me with your cum-" „fuck y/n, baby you‘re so fuckin‘ good�� and he lost it all, he growled and moaned into the crook of my neck, I could feel everything inside me, every little bit and it felt good, so fucking good.

"Are you okay?" He asked and I nodded "use your words baby" him using the word even though we're not fucking anymore is so sweet. "of course I am" I smiled. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asked "no" I said. I was still sitting on the table and he was between my legs. "Good, you don't believe me how much I wanted this to happen. You drive me crazy every time we see each other," he said and our eyes locked. "You could’ve told me" I said and brushed his sweaty hair out of his face, he grinned "You could’ve told me that you‘re thinking of me when you touch yourself" "You idiot" I laughed softly and studied his face

We went upstairs together, before I entered Aubrey's room he stopped me in front of the door. With his hands on my hips, he pulled me towards him. His lips slammed against mine, moving in sync, my hands ghosting from his neck up to his hair and back and down his neck as we moved away, but he pulled away, kissing me hungrier. Damn that man, I grinned into the kiss. "What?" he said, interrupting "you can't get enough, can't you?" "Not of you" he said and kissed me again and then moved away himself. "Good night pretty girl, see you in the morning" he said and let me open Aubrey's door. "Goodnight Chris" I whispered quietly and he smiled.

The next morning I woke up and Aubrey wasn't lying next to me. I got dressed and went downstairs. Nick, Nate Matt and Aubrey were sitting in the backyard like last night. “Good morning” everyone said at the same time “hii“ I said smiling and somehow still a little sleepy. "Where’s Chris?" I asked, standing at the table, in the exact spot where he fucked me. "There" Matt said and we all turned around. I thought I looked absolutely sleepy, but no one could top him, his hair looked almost the same as it did when my hand ran through it. A slight smile crept onto my lips. "What happened to you?" said Nick with a slight laugh. "Tiring night huh?" Nate asked very sus and Chris nodded. "Oh my god, did you guys also hear the moaning last night, it sounded like it was coming from outside.“ Chris was standing next to me now, everyone agreed with Aubrey, except me and Chris "No, I didn't hear anything" I said "No me neither." Justin came around the conversation, oh god, I completely forgot about him. "You're probably the only ones who haven't heard anything. I wonder why" he said as if he knows something "what?" Matt asked "oh no" said Nick with his mouth open and slapped both hands over it, Nate just laughed at us and shook his head "WAIT, I heard my best girlfriend fucking, STOP EVEN WORSE, my own brother" Aubrey said and threw her arms over her head and then started laughing. I expected everything, but not for her to find it funny. "It wasn't, like-" i began "yeah, right we uhm" said Chris "just shut up Chris, sorry y/n, but we all know now" said Nick okay, so we were half caught Chris and I just looked at each other smiling slightly.

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

#chris sturniolo #chrissturnss #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #smut #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #fanfic #fanfiction #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fandom

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traveler-at-heart · 4 months ago

Text

Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

“I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

“Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her. “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

—

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?” she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?” Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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