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chelleztjs18 · 2 months

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Ten Days (W.M) Pt. 5

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Y/n and Wanda is stuck in an arranged marriage. What will happen when both of them have their own deals to be done in ten days?

Warning: 18+ SMUT, swearing words, fluff, angsts (specific warning for each parts)

A/n: Well, hey there! I'm back with this series after a while. This chapter is a Valentine's gift for my sweet, Curious George anon. This is a miniseries fic that's inspired by "How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days" romcom. If you haven't read this series before, I recommend to read from part 1. (Series masterlist below) Happy reading!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

The rain is pouring. Thunders and lighting sometimes take turns to show their existence. You went straight to Wanda’s house after you spent some time with Yelena and Nat at your place to talk about the plans you have in mind.

Wanda’s heart skips a beat and her face instantly patches a smile as soon as she hears her doorbells. She rushes her steps to the door. Wanda has been waiting for you to come and she greets you with an excited smile.

“Finally! My pretty future wife—” but her smile turns to a little frown and her flirtatious words stop abruptly after she sees you soaking wet and your shoes are covered with mud.

“Hi babe!” Without giving her a chance to avoid it, you hug Wanda quickly and her clothes get a little wet from your drenched clothes. “Oh, hi wife. Why are you soaking wet and covered in mud?” she asked.

“Babe, I'm cold. Can I come in?”

“Uh y-yeah but your–your sh–.” Wanda hesitantly responds but you interrupt her by just walking into her house, leaving traces of mud and trails of dripping water all over the clean white floor.

“My what?” you play dumb. You know Wanda is internally freaking out about the mud and the water, so you walk around more. You try to look confused as you take off your jacket.

“Y-your muddy shoes. You know what darling, it’s okay. I will ask the maid to clean it.” Wanda put on a smile while trying to keep herself together to not tell you to stop walking around spreading more abstract muddy patterns.

“Oh okay, uh where should I put this wet jacket babe? Can I just put it on the couch? I forget where the bathroom is.” You walk around in a random path before you walk closer to the white fancy expensive couch in the living room.

“Gaah, NO..No..No..No..” Wanda’s loud spontaneous NO stops your move. Good thing that Wanda is behind you and can’t see your face, you almost laugh.

Wanda chuckles awkwardly, putting a forced smile and quickly grabbing yet gently the wet jacket off your hand. She realized her reaction was a bit much but she couldn't help it. Wanda loves everything clean and spotless.

“Y/n sweetheart, uh let me take this from you and how about you take off those pretty shoes now so i can put it outside, okay?” Wanda crouches and helps you take them off. You smile, thinking how sweet she is and you feel bad but the plan must go on.

“What? You will put my shoes outside? They're expensive shoes. What if it ruins it or someone takes it?” You whine as needy as you can to annoy her.

“I know, darling. I can see that. I’ll get you a new one, okay?” she responds as she stands up, holding your dirty shoes.

“Really? You gonna get me a new one? They have some new arrivals, you're gonna get them for me too?” you try to act like materialistic girls to make her lose interest in you.

“Yes, princess.” She answers with a smile. “I would rather pay for new expensive shoes than getting my floor all dirty.” Wanda mumbles, under her breath as she turns around.

“What did you say, Wands?”

“Oh nothing. I said anything for my future wife. Just-just please stay there, y/n.” Wanda patches another awkward smile, hoping you didn’t hear what she said earlier. “Okay..okay..” You agreed in more whiny tones.

“So what happened to you on the way here?” Wanda asks as she does what she needs to do to your jacket and shoes.

“I got a flat tire, so I gotta change it.” you explained. Little does Wanda know, nothing happened. You intentionally stopped at random dirt roads nearby just enough so the rain got you wet and got you as dirty as you can.

Wanda comes back to you, stands so close and it gives you giddy feelings. “Aw, you could’ve called me, love. I would’ve helped you. Next time, if you need anything, just call me, okay?” She pushes aside your hair gently to see your face that she genuinely adores. Then her hand cups your cheek, followed by soft rubs from her thumb on it. Her smile shows automatically whenever she sees you.

Gosh, her green eyes. There is something about them that draws you. You don’t know what it is but oh well, you think it’s probably nothing. Maybe it’s just the color. You clear your throat to prevent yourself from getting lost in those charming eyes.

“Uh, Wands? I’m cold.”

Wanda quickly gets back from the trance. Both of you look a little awkward.

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. I apologized, my dear. You need to shower and change clothes. The guest bathroom–”

“No, your bathroom. I don’t want to use the guest bathroom, am i still just a guest for you babe? So much for being your future wife.” you roll your eyes, showing her your pretend unamused expression.

“Uh right, right. Well, okay then. You can go to my room and use my bathroom and wear my clothes after that.”

“Sounds good. I just want cozy clothes since we are relaxing.” you demand one more time.

“Coming right up.” Wanda smiles as soon as she sees your smile.

_____

You turned on the shower to trick Wanda that you are taking a shower while you move on to the next plan.

You took out some fake pieces of hair and spread it in the bathroom floor, bathroom sink and even in the shower to leave some fake trails of your hair falls.

Thanks to Yelena’s interest in pranking others, she lets you borrow her things. You wonder what other things you can use for the plan. You take them out from your purse quietly and you read what’s written on it. Fart Cushion and Fart Spray, you shake your head a little, trying to figure out when and how these two things will work.

Then you hear Wanda is saying something from the other side of the door. “Y/n, I got the towel and clothes for you. Do you want me to put the towel in the bathroom and leave the clothes in my bed, darling? Then I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

An idea pops up in your mind right away and you want to laugh as soon as you figure out that now is the perfect time to use these two things.

“Can you wait for me until I’m done please babe? I don’t want you to be far away from me, I miss you. I’ll tell you when I’m done. You don’t miss me?” you try to sound needy and irrationally clingy.

“Wait, what? Of course I miss you. Can’t I just wait downstairs?” Wanda responds. She likes knowing you slowly got hooked into her plan deeper. Wanda never likes clingy girls but she knows better to shrug it off for the sake of her plan.

“No, I want you to be near me. Just wait there.” you pretend to be more demanding.

Wanda takes a little deep breath and agrees. “O–okay, I’ll be here.” as she sits on her bed.

While Wanda is waiting patiently in the room with some clothes and a towel for you, all of a sudden she hears something unexpectedly. Unbeknownst to her, you squeeze the cushion. Wanda was shocked with the loud sound, thinking it was from you passing some gas in the bathroom. Her eyes round up. “Oops, excuse me babe!” you said as you tried not to laugh.

“It’s okay. I didn’t hear anything, love.” Wanda tries to let her mind about it pass over her head and another same loud noise breaks out of the bathroom. “Oh my gosh.” she mumbles to herself in surprise.

“Ooops, I’m sorry.” Once again you express your fake apology. You didn’t hear anything from Wanda.

“Wands, are you still there?”

Hearing your voice looking for her, Wanda quickly gets off her bed and gets to the door. “Uh yes, I’m still here. Do you need anything?” she asks from behind the door.

You squeeze some sprays out of the bottle and to your surprise, it really stinks. It’s worse than a flatulence usually smells.“Yeah, I’m almost done. Gonna need the towel soon.” you answer as you try to hold a gag while covering your nose from the smell. You quietly dry heave in between walking back to the shower, pretending to continue your shower.

“Oh okay. I have your towel here.” Wanda signals you.

“You can come in. It’s unlocked.” You informed.

“Are you sure?” Wanda hesitantly asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You heard Wanda open the door and walk in. Wanda caught off guard by a blow of soft air mixed with the smell from the spray. She vaguely scrunches her nose as the stinky aroma intrudes her senses. Her eyes rounded once more but she tried not to react to it.

“Pffftt.. What did you eat?” Wanda mumbles. You pretend you didn’t hear it clearly. “Did you say something babe?”

“Oh? Nothing. Here you go, love. I’ll just hang it here.” Wanda is having a hard time talking while holding her breath at the same time.

You notice her being respectful and trying not to look at you but you want her to walk to you so she will notice more the smells in the bathroom. “Babe, can you bring it here please?”

“Oh okay.” She agrees half heartedly, all she wants right now is to walk out of that trapped air that bothers her nose.

She hands you the towel and her eyes give up the effort to not look at you. She sees the silhouette of your body through the opaque glass shower door. Her brain seems to forget the smells around her for a few seconds until she hears your voice and feels your hand gently tucks the towel that she still holds in her hand.

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry. Here you go.” You smile at her when she finally lets go of the towel. Unfortunately, the nose smells the smell again and Wanda clears her throat but being the caring person she is, she asks you.

“Are you okay, love? Is your tummy upset?” as much as Wanda cares about you but she instantly regrets her question.

“No, I’m okay. What? Wait, are you saying that my gas smells?! That’s just how it usually smells.” you pretend to freak out as you walk out of the shower wrapped in a towel.

“Uh oh. No, no. I didn’t say that. Uh–the reason I asked is because I care. That’s all.” Wanda starts to panic.

You start your pretend cry and whine, you cover your face. “It’s embarrassing. If you can’t handle it, how are you gonna be married to me?”

Wanda quickly feels bad but at the same time she doesn’t want you to walk away and lose the bet either. “Aw sweetheart, that’s not true. Don’t worry.” She hugs you even though it’s getting harder for her not to take a deep breath so she won’t inhale any more uncomfortable scents.

You feel the softness of Wanda’s hands rub the skin of your back and you actually love it. What is it with Wanda’s hug? Why do you feel so comfortable in it? What’s wrong with you right now? Oh geez, as much as you want to stay longer in her embrace, unfortunately you have to get away from it before it’s getting harder to be out of her arms. You nod.

“Okay, good girl. Now, why don’t you put on some clothes so we can have our date today, yeah?” Wanda kisses the top of your head. Oh goodness gracious, her tone and the way she calls you a good girl sends something to your brain and body that you can’t explain. You never feel something like it but you try to shrug it off and think maybe it was just because the first time a woman ever called you that. It’s nothing biggie.

You pull yourself away a little from her hugs. “Okay, Wands. I’ll see you downstairs.” You smiled. As soon as Wanda walks out of the bathroom and closes the door, she quickly inhales fresh air as if her life depends on it. She exhales a relief, shakes her head after what just happened.

_____

You can see Wanda is sitting on the couch in the living room as you walk towards her. The fireplace is on, some pretty fancy snacks with a bottle of red wine complete with two glasses are waiting for you as well. Soft lights around and the soothing rain drops outside offer a very comfy vibes. As always Wanda can’t help herself to smile when she sees you, everytime she sees you she feels a very comfortable feeling that she never feels from other girls she has been with but of course Wanda tries not to acknowledge that feeling. Wanda thought maybe the smile she has when she sees you was all because she knows she would win this bet.

“Well hello there, princess. Look how cute you are with my shirt and shorts. Come here, everything’s ready for you. You just need to pick which movie or sitcom we should watch.” she gently pats the empty spots next to her.

You are really impressed with everything that Wanda has prepared. It’s everything that you like. You always would rather have this kind of date than going anywhere fancy. You sit next to her and pick something to watch.

“Wow, this is nice, babe. So fancy but you pulled this off so easily.” you commented.

“Well, anything for the special woman.” Wanda starts her flirtatious strategy. She looks into your eyes and oh that smile again, it makes you almost forget to get the plan going.

“Special huh? Well, I don’t think I feel special enough yet. I’m sure you could plan something more especially if you make your future wife get out of her busy work schedule today to be with you.” you smirk as you tell her your needy demand in a teasing way, totally opposite than what you actually think. You actually love it but right now all you can do is hoping Wanda would think that you are ungrateful and unappreciative.

Wanda doesn’t like demanding women. Independent women always catch her attention, unfortunately she hasn’t met one. Wanda tries to ignore how demanding you are right now, all to win the bet.

“Oh? You are special. I know you would like this. Are you playing hard to get, sweetheart? Hmm?” Wanda’s face gets closer and closer to you. Your heart gradually starts to race. You try to keep your focus with you while trying to get back to this banter.

“Playing hard to get? I’m not. I think you just can’t handle me. I set my bar high and you should be able to reach it if you want to marry me.” You tease her back and you didn’t realize your face gets closer to hers too.

“There you go, my sweet straightforward lady. So you are on board with our arranged marriage then? That's good news.” Wanda gives you a come back with your own remark that you have said to her a few days ago.

“Like I said, maybe yes, maybe no.” you answered and your gaze was glued to her. This time Wanda only chuckles followed with a confident smile, thinking that she still has her fingers wrapped around you and her plan slowly working better.

Before you two know it, your face and Wanda’s are merely an inch. You look at her lips, so does Wanda at yours. You quickly bring yourself together and pull back a little. You clear your throat. “Uh- Why don’t we try this red wine you got here?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry, we wouldn’t want this great wine waiting.” Wanda awkwardly agrees and pours some in both glasses. A little thought pops in her mind thinking about another almost kiss moment that breaks her own “no kiss” rule but of course she convinces herself it was part of the plan.

WIth that, the date starts. Sometimes both of you talk about random things or anything about each other. You try to be as messy as you can by dropping some crumbs or food. You try to swing your hand that holds the glass of wine while you are talking with her to drive Wanda crazy from the thought of you spilling it on the couch or the rug. It’s quite comical for you to see how she tries to subtly to avoid that to happen and not to offend you at the same time from doing so. Another meltdown from you is the last thing Wanda wants on tonight's date. She wants to leave much much better impressions on you. Part of you think she looks cute and adorable.

You can’t lie to yourself, you are actually having a great time with Wanda. Maybe Wanda isn’t that bad? Oh no, no, no. You and Wanda are buzzed after sharing a bottle of wine and opening another one. That’s all. She is not your type, well a little but no. You have to be all cringey, annoying and unbearable to her.

You subtly try to look around, figuring out what you can do. Suddenly, an improvised wild idea came up in your mind. Part of you is hesitant to do it but after a rapid debate internally, your mind says fuck it.

You gotta do what you gotta do. This is all part of the plan, that’s what you tell yourself.

Wanda was very surprised with your sudden move. You instantaneously move on to her and straddle her lap then kiss her. The Sokovian brunette was caught off guard, kissing you back yet thoughts bouncing around her head. What’s going on here? Both of you let out a soft hum, feeling your bodies melt perfectly to each other. She lays her hands gently on your back and mindlessly pulls you to lean closer to her.

In between kisses, Wanda tries to tell you her thoughts with a soft whisper. “Y/n..sweetheart.” your lips catch hers again as you respond “Hm?”

Again, Wanda tries to break the kiss and speaks. “Are you sure about this? I think you are drunk.” Well, her ego would really love this, thinking that she is really much much closer to her victory on her bet with Kate. As much as she loves the feelings of your lips on her, she respects you.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Are you okay with it?.” You answered as you back out a little, deep down a little panic if you took this plan too far. Wanda looks at you and smiles. “Why wouldn’t I be okay, gorgeous?” She asks lovingly and just like that you turn to the only exception from her no kiss rule. Her hands gently cup your face. My oh my, you are lost in her ethereal eyes. Not to mention her touch. Wait, wait. Are you and Wanda having a moment here? Or perhaps we can say another moment that really you can’t explain. That was not butterflies in your stomach right now. The warmth in your heart (no, scratch that), you meant the warmth in your chest is really just because of the wine. Yes, yes, it is the wine. Not because of the kiss nor Wanda. Hell, it’s not because of the moment right now.

Wanda pulls you back into kiss, in her defense, it’s to pull you deeper in her plan. Not because she wants to or likes it.

Shortly after you remind yourself to move forward to your plan, you kiss her neck and reach to unbutton her pajamas. One by one. Wanda always loves to be in control, including in this kind of situation. You know that. Even if it has been only a few days of knowing her, you can read that. That’s why you are doing what you are doing, showing that you will be the type of wife who wears the pants in the relationship.

You are sure a needy, controlling, demanding, and clingy plus “crazy” woman is the whole package that definitely scares Wanda away in no time.

You smirk and look at her in her sports bra. Here goes nothing, your mind said.

You kiss her collar bones and as soon as your kisses reach her breasts, you do something that launches Wanda into a bigger surprise, not in a good way.

“Aaaawwwwww, look at them. Pretty twins.” You start to baby talk as your hands cup both of her breasts.

Wanda’s closed eyes open abruptly. “Wait, what?” She looks down at you very confused.

“Yeah pretty twins. I shall name you Roni!” you exclaim in more baby talk then kiss her left breast. Before Wanda can ask even further, you move on to the right breast and do the same thing as you say “And I shall name you Ami.” you give more ridiculously loud kisses.

“R-roni?? Ami?? Hold on, hold on. Y/n, my dear. Did you just– Did you just name my breasts??” Wanda looks so baffled. Trying to figure out what really is going on.

“Mmhmm. Why? You don’t like it?” You answered in a fake innocent face and pout.

“No, no. Uh I–I do. It’s cute, really, but uh, don’t you think it’s a bit a mood killer?” Wanda carefully crafts her words and then smiles awkwardly.

“Mood killer?? What do you mean? That’s rude, I was being romantic and sexy with you in our sexy time.” you retort while actually you really want to laugh. You are having fun seeing Wanda’s reaction.

“I know. I know, but naming my breast and baby talk to them? Where in the world did you get the name ideas anyway??” You can see from her face that what you just did really cringes her.

“It’s from my favorite luncheon meat, Roni is short for pepperoni and Ami is short for Salami.” You are really proud of yourself for coming up with this idea and can’t wait to tell Natasha and Yelena about it.

“Oh God. Pep–pepperoni? Salami? But you are vegan, Y/n?!Few days ago you cried because of the meat I cooked for dinner and now you name my breasts with meat names?” Wanda rambles, frustration starts to show bit by bit.

“Then you would prefer Melonie and Coco? You know, because of the perfect round shape and size.” You nonchalantly offer her different name ideas and explain them with a little shrug. Right now you are trying to look innocent. A stark difference from how you were earlier as if you have different personalities.

Of course, it lures out more of Wanda’s reaction. “What? MELON and COCONUT?? Mine are not ridiculously big like them.” Wanda argues. Shade of red blush covers her cheeks as she crosses both of her palms to cover her breasts in such embarrassment and disagreement.

“Aaaaww. Okay okay. What about Squashy and Squishy, then? Squashy, because squash is my favorite vegetable and Squishy because yours are squishy.” you are back to baby talk and your hands playfully cups Wanda’s breasts.

Wanda looks at you in disbelief at what you just said and she lays her head back on the couch as her right fingers massage the bridge of her nose. “Aaaand it died. It just died.” Said Wanda referring to her mood on the “sexy time” with you

“What? What died, babe?” You play dumb with your question. You know what she meant.

“Uh, nothing. Y/n, how about we call it a night, yeah? I’m tired, I got pretty buzzed earlier. I have things to do at the office tomorrow too.” Luckily, your plan works and you are glad that you can finally go home.

“Really? That’s all the date you said you prepared so special for me? Okay. I guess, I’m gonna go home then.” You pretend to look upset and disappointed.

“Oh no, no. You are not driving home now, sweetheart. It’s late now. You are drunk, it’s still pouring rain outside and you got a car problem earlier. So stay the night here please. I’ll ask the maid to get the guest room ready for you.” Wanda leaves you no room to refuse but you have to get out of here. Once again, you have to think quickly how to refuse her.

“Guest room? Really? Me, your future wife, sleeps in the guest room. That’s upsetting. I’m just gonna go home.” You pretend to cry for no reason and you quickly get off her lap so you can get ready to leave.

Her gaze follows where you walk to the door. “Where else are you supposed to sl—?” she halts her words when she realizes why you are leaving so upset. Wanda can’t let you leave upset from the date, it’s too risky for her.

She gets up quickly and tries to stop you. “Okay, okay. You can sleep in my room, on my bed..with me. Yeah? Sounds good? Yes yes, sounds much better than driving drunk in the rain. I won’t let anything happen to my woman.” Wanda agrees and gives full effort to make you stay.

You have no other excuse to leave so like it or not, you stay. You are just surprised with how determined Wanda is. On second thought, you think that she is right. It might be safer to stay the night.

_____

“Oookay, the bed is ready for you, love. You’ll sleep on the left side and I’ll sleep on the right side. Here’s your pillow and I have another blanket here if you need it. I’m going to brush my teeth right now and get ready for bed.” Wanda tells you as she just got done preparing the bed for you.

You wanted to be needier and make the sleeping side of the bed a big deal but you are thinking you don’t want to look that bad in front of Wanda. Wait, what’s wrong with you? That’s the goal of this whole plan. Why would you even think that way? Okay, maybe you just want to be annoying in a more logical way. Yeah that’s probably it.

You lay on your side, on the bed. Letting your back facing Wanda. Trying not to sleep too close with her when she comes back.

While you are trying to get comfy in bed, you hear Wanda from the bathroom.

Wanda is freaking out about what she discovers as soon as she gets to the bathroom. For a clean freak like her, it looks like a horror for her. Your wet dirty clothes are on the floor, your “hair” is on the floor, on the bathroom sink and even stick on the shower glass door.

Your plan definitely works because you heard her muffled voice in the bathroom freaking out saying “Oh no..no..no.. Oh Lord. Why is it so messy? Who lives like this? Calm down, Wanda. It’s nothing big.”

You laugh silently but as soon as you hear her walk out of the bathroom, you pretend to sleep. You heard her taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

Wanda finally lays down on the bed. “Good night, Y/n.” she gently says it but no answer from you so she assumes that you are asleep. You hear her whisper to herself. “What a night.”

You can’t really sleep but you pretend every now and then to snore loudly and make weird noises while you are “sleeping”. You toss and turn as well just so it will seem like it’s hell to sleep with you.

It was hard for Wanda to fall asleep because of what you are doing. She couldn’t believe how loud you snored but eventually both of you finally fell asleep.

Pt. 6

A/n: Welp, thats it for today! Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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harringtown · 2 years

Text

the road not taken

this became much longer than I was planning so it took a while but!!! no joke i was plotting this fic and had a moment of ‘wait they storm into the road, literally the road not taken cuz its outside steve’s house’ and had to sit back for a second cuz I impressed my own damn self w that one. anyways I hope u enjoy anon!!!

requested by anonymous

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: au based on tis the damn season by Taylor Swift (aka the reader left Hawkins, and Steve, but the past is hard to run from, aka some second chance almost romance w a happy ending)

word count: 6.8k

Hawkins hasn’t changed much in eight months.

Last August, when you left—when you fled, if you’re being technical—the town was slipping into fall. Bare trees and chilly winds saw you off, but now, spring is poking its head up like the flowers sticking out of the concrete sidewalks.

The train station drops you at the far end of main street. Eight months ago, when you made this walk in the other direction, you kept your eyes down and your breath held, like Hawkins might get stuck in your lungs.

Now, you walk slowly, dragging your suitcase behind you, and sweep your gaze around a place you swore you wouldn’t come back to.

Time is funny like that. It couldn’t have predicted you coming home from college for spring break to surprise your family. But it probably couldn’t have predicted you running in the first place.

Starcourt’s destruction has rejuvenated the main square, and the once abandoned shops are back in full gear. Residents mill about in front of stores and restaurants, kids amble around the grass, cars pull by. Hawkins is alive again. After everything it, and everyone who lives here, have been through, it still always manages to bounce back.

You pass the diner, and the general store. The post office. The arcade, and the video store.

A familiar bike is chained up against one of the poles in front of the video store. Affection swells in your chest.

Robin.

You may have cut off Hawkins and Steve Harrington when you left, but you didn’t burn all your bridges. Not with Robin, or Nancy.

And if you’re going to survive this week, you’ll need more than your family to do it. You’ll need friends, and you don’t have a whole lot of those left here.

So, you head for the video store. The lot is full, probably arcade overflow, but none of the other vehicles are familiar.

You pull on the front door’s handle, a bell chiming inside, and in the half step you take, red flashes in your peripheral vision.

You’d know that car anywhere. And the only reason you missed it was because it’s parked on the side of the building.

A red BMW. You even remember the damn license plate number.

Your train of thought careens into a wall of curses, but the bell rang, you’re standing halfway in the store already, and there will be no escaping now. Not unless you literally sprint away like some scared kid.

Please, let him be on break. Or in the back. Or absolutely fucking anywhere else.

You take a breath and step all the way into the store, letting the door swing shut behind you.

“No way,” says a familiar, feminine voice, and you’ve barely clocked Robin behind the counter before she’s pushing around it and rushing you. “Are you actually here right now?”

You grin, and say, “I’m here,” a second before she hauls you into a tight hug. And you can barely breathe, but you don’t mind, because you’re squeezing her just as tight.

Robin pulls back, shaking her head. “Nancy and Jonathan bet five dollars you wouldn’t set foot in this town again, but I knew you’d be back.” She steps back, gesturing to the store around her, with its funky-patterned floor and peeling wallpaper. “I mean, who could resist the charm of our lovely town?”

“Charm is a word for it,” you say, and Robin laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“So,” she says. “How long do we get you for?” And her smile falters, just for a second, after the word we, like she considers correcting, and decides not to. You’re grateful to once again be around people who know what subjects to avoid. “Please tell me you dropped out of college.” Her nose scrunches. “And ignore how horrible that sounds.”

You snort. “Just here for the week. Unfortunately, I’m still enrolled.”

Robin breaks away from you to round the counter again, retaking her place, and you lean into the ledge across from her.

“I missed the hell out of you,” she says. “Seriously. It’s not the same without you. No one else gets my movie references or will agree to take me to the snow cone stand out in Rockwood.”

That familiar ache, the one that showed up when you got on the train last fall, pulses in your chest.

“I missed you, too.” You lean into the counter. “It’s nice out there, and the people are great, but there’s no Robin Buckley in Indianapolis, which makes it pretty much intolerable. And they don’t even have the Rockwood snow cone place.”

Robin grins, and she opens her mouth to speak, but a sharp inhale from the doorway to the back hall sucks the words out of her mouth.

It sucks all the air out of the room, too.

It’s as if you sense him before you see him. The knot in your chest pushes on your lungs, and it takes everything in you to control your expression as you meet his eyes.

Steve Harrington.

Eight months older, his hair a little longer. Grown into himself, a little more. The bruises and wounds he wore when you left him are nowhere to be found.

Your mouth falls open, though you’re not sure what you plan on saying. If you plan on saying anything at all.

What could you possibly say that would ever be enough?

He’s wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a deep navy Y-neck Henley, and he’s still frustratingly handsome, and he’s still your Steve. Which makes no sense, because he was never actually yours. That was the problem.

His eyes widen, just a bit, and a dozen emotions flicker across his face—shock and confusion and anger and hurt and more—before he shoves an invisible wall up between you. His lips pull into a thin line and his jaw tightens.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Like it’s a nuisance. Like it’s an inconvenience.

You swallow the icy hurt. Two can play at that game.

“Renting a movie.” You jerk a chin at the aisles of films. “This is a video rental store.”

His brows twitch. He comes up beside Robin at the counter, leaning casually into the corner, and his show of false confidence isn’t lost on you. Eight months haven’t changed him that much. And you spent much longer memorizing him.

“Fine.” He shrugs a shoulder. “What are you doing in Hawkins?”

“My parents live here. Am I not allowed to visit?”

“You are,” Robin says, gaze flicking between you. “And we’re happy to see you. Even if we have a hard time showing it.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah. Happy.” He meets your eyes and lifts his brows. “So much for escape, I guess.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation prickling across your skin like needles, and you open your mouth to snap at him, but before you can, the bell dings over the door. A handful of teens who have just snuffed out a firecracker without even realizing it.

“I’ve got ‘em,” Robin says. To Steve, “And finish sorting those files, because if it’s not done by the time Keith gets in tomorrow, I swear, he’ll actually have an aneurysm, and I really don’t want to deal with it.”

Steve frowns, like he’s considering making a fuss, but in the end, he just tosses a look your way, and heads for the back of the store without another word.

And as much as you’d secretly been waiting for the moment you laid eyes on him again, you’re relieved to see him go.

Something you’d never admit to anyone, even Robin: on cold, lonely nights, you imagined coming home to Hawkins. Coming home to him. You imagined showing up at his doorstep and telling him you were sorry—telling him everything. And in your fantasies, he let you in with open arms.

But this is reality, and in reality, you didn’t make a clean break from this town. It’d be silly of you to expect to come back and find anything but scars.

It’s going to be hell cleaning the blood out of Steve’s seats, but he doesn’t comment on it as he, you, and Robin pile into the car. The blankets handed out by the EMT—which made no sense, because it’s July in Hawkins, and you survived a fire, not a winter storm—form half of a fourth person in Steve’s backseat.

Once Robin is dropped off, it’s just you and Steve in the front, and the tan blankets in the back. Steve drives away from her house, but he slows the car and parks it just down the road, next to a huge chunk of forest, safe from anyone who might be driving this time of night.

You don’t ask why he didn’t just drive you home. You don’t really want to go home.

The EMTs said dozens of people died in the fire that wasn’t a fire. Dozens. Your parents will have questions, and after a day being interrogated by Russian soldiers, you’re in no mood for it.

Steve drops his hands from the wheel.

“We almost died today,” you say softly. “Again.”

“But we didn’t.”

“But we could have.”

He lets out a rattling breath. A second passes, and his fingers slide across the bench seat to bump yours. Another second, and he places his hand atop yours. You flip your palm up, threading your fingers together and squeezing once.

Steve exhales again, but it’s relieved, not strained. Like your touch is pulling some of the horrible day out of his limbs.

“Yeah,” he says. “We could have.”

“How many times can we almost die before we—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t even say that.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Steve closes his eyes. When he opens them, he pulls his hand from yours. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow, that says enough.

With the promise to call Robin later, you slip out of the video store and into the warm, early evening. Your suitcase wheels rattle over the concrete. It’s not a short walk home, but you’re in no hurry, and after an hour of avoiding Steve, you’d walk ten miles if it got you out of that store.

It’s like the universe can read your thoughts. A beat later, red flashes in your peripheral, and a familiar BMW slows beside you where you hug the curb, almost to the parking lot exit.

Steve reaches over and rolls down the passenger window, a hand on the back of the headrest as he peers out at you.

“Are you walking home?” he asks.

“What does it look like?”

He gives you a patronizing look. For a second, he chews on the inside of his cheek. Dread coils in your stomach—whatever he’s gearing up to, it can’t be good.

With a sharp sigh, he says, “Get in the car.”

Your stomach tumbles. It takes more strength than you’d like to admit keeping your face even as you say, “No,” and continue walking.

Steve’s frustrated curse carries through the window, and he puts just enough gas on the Beemer to catch up to you before he slows down again.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

“I said no.”

“For the love of—its two miles to your house.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” you say. You and your already worn sneakers are soon to be even more aware. Painfully aware. But that’s better than the alternative.

“You’re being ridiculous. You realize that, right? This is ridiculous,” Steve says.

You keep walking.

Another colorful curse comes from inside the car, and then, the tires skid as he jerks the car to the right, half up on the curb. A few feet to the right, and he’d have tagged you. Except, he wouldn’t, because it’s Steve, and his driving may be reckless, but it’s also impressive, and he knows it. And he knows that you know it.

Screw him for still knowing you. And for assuming you still know him.

He slams the car into park, snaps his head up, and says, “Get in the goddamn car, y/n.”

For a long second, you do nothing but gape at him.

“You almost hit me,” you say.

“No, I didn’t,” he says.

Another second to consider how long this walk will actually be.

Damn it and damn him.

You drag your suitcase toward his car, reaching for the back handle, but Steve is out of the driver’s seat and around the back bumper in a blink, popping open the door. It’s so frustratingly Steve that you can do nothing but toss your suitcase inside. He nudges the back door shut and opens the passenger side, but he doesn’t look at you as he does it. And you don’t look at him as you climb into the car.

Steve pushes the door shut. Hesitates. You see him take a deep breath and return to the driver’s side. He climbs back in, shuts the door harder than you think is necessary, and puts the car into reverse.

“What the hell was that about?” you snap as he pulls the car onto the road, heading toward your neighborhood.

“This is still Hawkins,” Steve says. “And I’m not about to let you wander around at night by yourself.”

“The Mind Flayer is dead,” you say. “Isn’t it?”

A muscle clicks in his jaw. His grip on the wheel tightens.

“Yeah. It’s dead.”

“But… ?”

He flicks a glance your way, like he’s surprised.

“But I have a bad feeling,” he says.

“Don’t you always.”

“Says the one who rode a bad feeling right out of town,” Steve retorts.

He’s right, and he also tends to be right when it comes to anything monster related. But those are sticky subjects, and you’re trying to avoid sticky subjects.

So, instead of taking the bait, you turn up the radio.

When no one is talking, it feels just like it used to. You lost count of the nights you spent in this very spot, driving to nowhere, Steve at the wheel.

And here you are again, in Steve Harrington’s car. Like you were always going to end up back here. Like you never left at all.

“I thought you told them no,” Steve says. He’s been slouched back on the couch for the better part of the afternoon, but the moment you broke the news, he straightened like a rod.

“I did,” you say. You can’t look at him, so you look at the shag carpet, counting the individual threads. “But I guess they saw the reports about the mall and figured having the survivor of such a tragedy at their school was a good look. So, they called and asked if I’d reconsidered. Offered more scholarship money, too.” You risk a glance his way. Every inch of him is rigid. “And I said yes.”

Steve pushes to his feet. The abrupt movement makes him wince and reach for his still-healing ribs.

“You’re leaving?” he asks.

“My move in date is August 21st,” you say. Steve twists to peer at the calendar hanging in your kitchen.

Today is August 7th.

Steve shakes his head and paces in front of the couch. On the settee across from him, you’re immobile, digging your nails into your palms.

“Two weeks ago, the plan was to take classes at the community college this fall and save up,” he says. “What happened to waiting for Robin to graduate? Getting some shitty apartment for the three of us in Indianapolis?” He fixes his stare on you. “What changed?”

You let out a rattling breath. You’ve been planning out this speech since you accepted a spot at the university, but now that it’s here, all the words are out of reach.

“I have to get out of here, Steve,” you say. “If I don’t go now, while I still can, I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.”

“Escape what?”

All of it. The monsters and the tombstones and the empty seats in every cafeteria or arena. The ghosts. The loss. The pain.

And him. You’d be lying if you said part of your reason for going wasn’t him.

Him, and everything you’ve spent so much time wishing you could be—everything you will clearly never be. And regardless of whoever’s fault that is, it has to end with you.

But you can’t tell him that. The fact that you can’t is only another reason to go.

“I just…” You rake a hand through your hair. “I just have this feeling that if I don’t get out of this town, it’s going to kill me.”

Or you’re going to kill me, Steve Harrington, and you won't even know you pulled the trigger.

Steve’s lips form the inevitable beginning of a protest, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Look at me, Steve,” you say, lifting your arms and gesturing to yourself. Coated in bruises and scabs, bandaged and bound. “Look at me and tell me that if I stay, you can guarantee it’ll never get any worse than this.”

He hesitates. And you know he’s thinking about being down in that base, you and Steve and Robin being beaten to bloody pulps—about how you barely made it through this alive.

“The Mind Flayer is dead. It’s over. There’s nothing to run from,” Steve says. And you wish like hell that was true.

“It’s been over before. And then it wasn’t.”

He shakes his head. “Even if it does come back, you’re really okay with just… leaving? Ditching us?”

“I’m not… ditching anyone,” you say, which is definitely a lie. “It’s college. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.” Another lie.

“Bullshit,” Steve says. “You’re running.”

And he’s right. And you are. Add it to the list of things you won’t admit to Steve Harrington. Already, the list is miles long. What’s another bullet point?

Your driveway is empty. Steve says nothing as he pulls his car up to the curb and puts it in park, but you know what he’s thinking.

There’s always at least one car in the driveway.

He doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the car with you, either, and you’re grateful. You don’t have the guts to ask him to come inside with you. Even if it’s probably nothing, in this town, it could be something. And somethingwas always a lot less scary with Steve at your side.

As you fish your house keys out of your bag, Steve waits at your back, hands in his pockets, humming absently.

He’s nervous. Whether it’s about the empty house or something else, you’re not sure.

You unlock the front door and nudge it open, stepping into the foyer. Steve is close behind, trailing you all the way into the kitchen.

The calendar hanging next to the cabinets pulls your attention.

March 19th to March 26th is highlighted, and BLOOMINGTON is scrawled in your mother’s handwriting.

Shit.

Of course, the one time you try to do something nice and surprise your family after avoiding this town like the plague for almost a year, it’s the week they’re out of town visiting your grandparents.

“Shit,” Steve says, right at your shoulder. You jump, not having heard him approach. He takes two steps back.

Shame burns under your skin. You clear your throat.

“I wanted to surprise them. My parents were so bummed when I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas,” you say.

“Yeah, well, they weren’t the only ones,” Steve says. The dark, empty house only makes his sarcasm drip thicker. “I think you took the surprise thing a bit too far.”

“You really don’t have to rub it in.”

He pouts. “I think I’ve earned the right.”

“You didn’t earn anything,” you snap. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

His eyes go wide, confused and frustrated all at once. “Wait, what—”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say. “But you should probably get going.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “You’re not seriously going to stay here by yourself.”

“I can survive a week in my own house, Steve. And your bad vibes, or whatever, aren’t exactly worthy of me forking over the cash to change my train ticket back. Besides, the next train isn’t until tomorrow. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying in Hawkins tonight.”

“Is your pride worth dying over?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you snap. “And if it’s that big of a deal, I can just stay with Robin.”

Steve snorts. “Where, on her bedroom floor? She’s got four sisters. There’s not a spare square foot in that house.”

You scrunch your nose. Stare at him for a long minute.

“You’re not suggesting—”

“My house.”

“Not a chance.”

He scoffs and says, “What, worried you can’t resist jumping my bones the second the lights go out?”

“If I’m jumping your bones, Harrington, it’s to lock my fingers around your throat.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin, and he bats his eyes.

“Is that a promise?”

You exhale sharply, letting out a curse.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you say, jabbing a finger at him.

“Obviously,” he says, and he looks bored as he does, which means he’s anything but.

Harriet Williams’ going away party falls three days before your own departure, and though neither of you are in the party mood, Robin drags you and Steve there, anyway, with the promise of shitty mixed drinks and even shittier music.

And it’s better than sitting in your room thinking, so you agree.

Four cups of whatever concoction is in the kitchen later, you’re glad you came. The house is too full of people, and it’s much too hot, much too loud, and every surface is sticky, but you don’t care. You’re dancing with Steve, and you’re too drunk to feel guilty, and he’s too drunk to be angry at you.

It happens in the silence between songs—no more than five seconds. But it happens. Your lips meet his, and his fingers curl into your waist, and he tastes like cheap tequila and orange juice.

And then he shifts away. And you’re dancing again. And the next day, either Steve doesn’t remember, or he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t bring it up.

That night, that moment, gets caught in the wind and drifts away.

Steve’s house isn’t deserted. His parents are home, along with his aunt and younger cousins, which means he really will be sleeping on the couch, and not in one of the guest rooms. You’ve only seen his house this full a few times in your life, and it’s almost odd. To tiptoe through his halls instead of just walking.

But even with the packed house, it all feels so normal. Like you’ve slipped back into some ancient orbit.

Steve sets you up in his room, only leaving to change into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt you and Robin bought him as a joke. Two sizes too big, with a massive eagle spread across the marbled blue fabric, it is undeniably horrendous, but he’s wearing it. And from the looks of the worn fabric, it isn’t the first time.

He doesn’t say much before he heads downstairs. As if he’s afraid speaking will break this tenuous peace you’ve found in the silence.

You’ve both been walking in a memory since leaving your house. You don’t want to step out of it, either. Not yet.

It takes you ten minutes of pacing before you gather the courage to get into the bed. He isn’t even in it, but it’s Steve’s bed. You’ve slept in it a handful of times, mostly after parties in high school, but somehow, it’s more intimate without him in it.

You turn out the lamp and slide under the covers, and you can feel the slightest groove in the mattress formed by years of him sleeping in the same spot.

His scent envelopes you in a second blanket, and tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. You squeeze your eyes shut against them, but one escapes, trailing down your cheek and onto the pillow.

It’s another ten minutes before you can open your eyes without the threat of tears. Thirty more tossing and turning and thinking.

Then, the knob turns on the door. Panic leaps into your throat—it still does, even two hundred miles away at school—and you jerk into a sitting position.

Steve leans into the doorway, his lips pressed together. Seeing you’re awake, he slips inside, closing the door behind him.

“To the shock of nobody, my dad got booted from he and my mom’s room. I’d rather sleep on the floor here than have a shame sleepover with my father in the living room,” he says. He clears his throat. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it comes out as more of a squeak. You try again. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Steve says.

“It is your bedroom,” you say. A smile drifts over his lips, but it’s gone as fast as it comes. He heads for his closet, opening the doors and kneeling to dig out a pile of folded blankets from the back.

“Steve.”

He stills. “Yeah?”

The words are out of your mouth too quick for you to stop them. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Now he’s really frozen. “What, are you volunteering to swap?”

Your laugh is thin and hollow. It doesn’t even sound like your voice as you say, “Just get in the bed before I change my mind.”

He stands. Turns your way. Looks at you for a long moment, likely trying to decide whether you’re serious. Eventually, he crosses the room, leaving the blankets behind.

You scooch to the side, toward the wall, so he has room. The moonlight streaming in through the window flashes over his clenched jaw.

He climbs into the bed beside you, the mattress sinking just a bit with the added weight.

“Thanks,” he says for the second time since entering the room.

“You’re welcome,” you say, even though it’s his bed in the first place.

Silence hangs in the air, fluttering like sheets on a line, and you lay in wait, praying Steve will fall asleep so you can relax.

But he doesn’t. Instead, you lay side by side, flat on your backs, hands folded over both your stomachs, like matching Victorian children in some twisted double funeral.

Steve whispers your name.

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

A pause.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

“Can I stop you?”

He laughs softly, but it dies out halfway through.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Your stomach drops.

“Steve—“

“You and me, we used to talk about just taking off and leaving everything behind,” Steve says softly, “but I never actually thought you’d do it.” He shakes his head. “Or I figured you’d at least take me with you. Stupid of me, I guess.”

“Steve—” You say again, as if it’ll make up for what you’ve done.

“Just tell me why,” he says. “Tell me what the hell I did to you, to piss you off so much.”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he says.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you didn’t know how I felt about you,” you say, without meaning to. The subsequent silence is thicker than the first.

“I…” He trails off.

“Yeah,” you say. “That’s what I thought.”

“I was an idiot,” he says, and it’s as if he’s talking to himself, not to you.

“I know,” you say. “Which time are you talking about?”

He laughs, but it’s a little sad. He hesitates a moment before he speaks again.

“The day you left…” He pauses. Like he’s trying to organize his words. “The second you left my house after saying goodbye, I felt this pit in my stomach, and I realized it wasn’t new. It’d been there a long time. And it just kept getting worse.” He laces his hands behind his head. “I actually called Robin, at like, midnight that night, told her I thought I was dying, and she just said, ‘You’re not dying, dingus, your heart is broken.’” Another long pause follows. “I don’t even think I realized until right then that I—” He stops. He always stops.

Or you do. But you always end up here, a foot from the finish line, neither of you brave enough to cross it.

And you’re not sure what to say to all that, or what it means, so you just say his name again, softly, almost a plea.

“You know, I wasn’t mad at you for leaving Hawkins,” he goes on. “I mean, I’d have to be a complete and total asshole to be angry that my best friend got a killer scholarship to a college far the hell away from this place.”

“You seemed pretty angry,” you say.

“Yeah, well, I was angry, but I wasn’t angry about that. I was pissed that you ditched me, like we didn’t spend ten years surviving this town together.” In your peripheral vision, his chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s angry or nervous or some combination. “Like none of it mattered.”

“It all mattered,” you say, fiercer than you intend. “That was why I had to go.”

“What?” He’s looking at you now, and you force yourself to meet his eyes. You’ve braved scarier creatures than the truth.

“I told you that I left Hawkins because I had to get away from the monsters. And that was mostly true. But I wasn’t just running from monsters. I was running from you.”

His mouth opens, and abruptly shuts.

“I spent ten years loving you, Steve. Ten years waiting for you to figure it out, or do something, but you never did, and I… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?”

“Pretend not to,” you say. “Pretend that you did. Pretend that one day you could. I don’t know. All I know is that every time you called me and asked me for help, I dropped everything and came running. I couldn’t keep dropping everything for someone who didn’t even want to carry it in the first place.”

He chews on his cheek for a beat, and now, he’s the one avoiding your gaze.

“When we were younger, I thought that maybe you—” He lets out a sigh. “But then we got older, and it seemed like you didn’t anymore, and then we got to high school, and Eleven ripped open a hole to another universe, and then you were gone. I mean, I waited weeks for you to call. Told myself you just hadn’t set up your new number yet.”

He’s circling his own admission like a shark around chum, and you’ve known him long enough to see that, but the gap in time has robbed you of the ability to tell what it is.

“I got it wrong,” you say. “I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and it was like… like I couldn’t even think. I just had to run. But I was wrong. I was wrong, and I should have just come to you, told you what I felt, but I didn’t.” You roll onto your side to face him. “But what would it have changed, anyway?”

He mirrors your position.

“Everything,” he says. “Something. I don’t know. I don’t know because you never said anything.” He inhales. “But I never said anything, either.”

Shock renders you silent. Steve catches your gaze, and immediately looks away.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what it’d have been like if we did things the right way. I think maybe it could have worked out, if I met you in Biology class and not on some battlefield.”

Your stomach churns. “And by it…?”

“I mean us,” he says. Shakes his head. “But we didn’t meet in Biology. And we sure as hell didn’t do things the right way. We—I—royally fucked it up, actually. I know it’s too late to mean anything, but I’ll never stop being sorry for everything that went wrong with you. ”

Some of your anger softens, revealing what lies beneath it—sadness. Because you’re not really angry at Steve, not the way he or you would think. Because you were young and stupid, and you still are, in a lot of ways. Because sometimes you can be angry just because.

“It wasn’t all your fault,” you say. “We were just kids. We were already dealing with… well, not the end of the world, but pretty close to it. And it’s not like I can be mad at you for… for anything, after what I did.”

“Still,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Still.”

Because what more is there? You fucked up, or he did, or you both did, and now, here you are, on the other side of the wreckage. And you’re not sure whether or not it's salvageable. If you even want it to be.

“Promise you’ll call,” Steve says, his voice muffled by your hair. He pulls back, and his expression is sincere, so Steve it hurts to look at. “Promise you won’t forget about me.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t force them away. Instead, you let them fall and hope that Steve believes them as something different than they are. And you tell him, “I promise,” even though you’ve already made yourself a very different promise.

To leave Steve Harrington and Hawkins behind.

He pulls you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last, and when you pull back, neither of you moves back all the way, and your forehead finds his, and your noses bump, and you can almost taste the kiss, and—

Steve shifts away.

Your eyes snap open in time to see his Adam's apple bob. You clear your throat and extricate yourself from his arms.

“I gotta go,” you say. “I have a train to catch.”

Steve’s lips part.

You want him to ask you to stay. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

But he doesn’t. So you don’t.

You wake up to the soft, steady rhythm of a heartbeat and a warm arm slung loosely over your waist. Before you open your eyes, your brain registers the scent as Steve, and though it should be surprising to wake up like this, for some reason, it doesn’t feel weird.

And when he opens his eyes, when he sees you, he acts like it isn’t weird, either.

“Tell me about school,” Steve says, as if you’ve done this a hundred times, in this very spot, with his hand on your hip. “Do you like it? Do you live in a dorm with, like, five roommates?”

A smile pulls on your lips. You’re not sure what magic spell you’ve both stumbled into, but for the moment, you don’t want to break it. To be honest, you’re not entirely sure you’re awake.

So, you tell him. You tell him about your classes, and about the friends you’ve made, and about your roommates, of which there are two, not five, who are actually very nice. All the time you talk, he doesn’t pull his arm away from you, and you don’t pull back.

It feels like everything it could have been.

Then, he asks you another question.

“Are you happy?”

And you hesitate.

“I’m… getting there,” you say. “But nobody there knows me like Hawkins does—” You lift your eyes to his, and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Nobody knows me like you do. “—and I’m worried that they never will.”

Steve stills. Shifts back, taking his arm with him and leaving cold in its absence. You’re not even sure what you said to make him move back, or if the magic spell just broke.

He sits up, and the marbled shirt has ridden halfway up his back, revealing a stretch of tan, scarred skin.

“You know why that is, don’t you?” he asks. He turns his face just enough for you to see his profile, jaw clenched and brows furrowed.

It’s your turn to sit up.

“What are you trying to say?”

He shifts all the way toward you. “I’m saying, there’s a reason you weren’t happy in Hawkins, and there’s a reason you aren’t happy in Indianapolis.” You haven’t heard him talk like this in a long time, since high school, but unlike high school, he doesn’t sound mean. It’s just that confidence, but now, it’s real. “I played my part in what happened with us, or didn’t happen, or whatever, but it takes two to tango.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He presses his lips together.

“The day you left, if I had asked you to stay in Hawkins, what would you have said?” he asks.

“I—” The words evaporate on your tongue. You would have what? Would you have stayed? Was the version of you that dropped everything and fled even ready to be asked that question, let alone answer it?

“You don’t let anybody get close enough to love you,” he says. “And I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough, but you can’t say it was just me, or just us being dumb kids. And you sure as hell can’t outrun that. ” He inhales sharply, but the words are out, and there is no taking them back.

You throw the covers off and climb out of his bed, jamming your feet into your sneakers and grabbing the first hoodie you see off the top of your suitcase.

“Screw you, Harrington,” you snap.

“Wait—” Steve scrambles out of bed behind you, but you don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say.

You push through his door and into the hall, storming down the hall and the stairs, ignoring the chatter coming from the kitchen and Steve’s family, out the front door into a literal storm.

Thunder cracks over your head, and the rain falls in cold sheets, but you’d rather walk through the storm than stay a minute longer. You trudge down the porch and the driveway, Steve’s words ringing in your ears.

You sure as hell can’t outrun that.

You come to a stop in the middle of the pot-holed lined street in front of the Harrington house. Running. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Again.

The front door swings open, and Steve runs down the porch, wearing just his sweats, horrible animal shirt, and an untied pair of sneakers. Panic lines his face until his eyes find yours, and he relaxes, just for a second, before his expression twists again.

He jogs into the road, just off the curb.

“Steve, I’m not—”

“No,” Steve says. “Wait. I need to say something. It’s something I should have said a long time ago.” He swipes the hair and water out of his eyes, closing the distance between you, until you’re barely a foot apart. His chest heaves.

“Eight months ago, when you told me you were leaving, I should have asked you to stay. And every day for eight months, I’ve regretted it. So, I’m asking you now. Please, stay.” He licks his lips, and you get caught on the droplets of rain lining his mouth. “I mean, don’t drop out of college, because that’d be crazy, but… you know what I mean.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen, and I should have told you a lot longer than eight months ago, but I—“

It should take more than that, but you’ve been waiting longer than eight months to hear it, and you’re moving before you consciously decide to.

You press your lips to his, and his mouth parts under yours, and he tastes like rain and a little like morning breath, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his wind around your waist, and you’re pressed so close together that even the rain can’t get through.

When Steve pulls back, his pupils blown and his breathing uneven, he just dips his forehead against yours, never releasing you from his arms.

“I know we always talked about Indianapolis,” you whisper. “But do you think Robin might be willing to move to Indianapolis instead? I can move off campus next year.”

Steve shifts away, eyes snapping open, a wide smile spreading across his face. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and says, “I think she could be convinced.”

“And you?”

“I’m all yours,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”

You smile, and lean in to kiss him again. And though it took you a while to get back to it, the road you almost didn’t take looks pretty good now.

taglist: @milkiane @spideyboipete @robiin-buckley @robinbuckleyssgf @la-fille-en-aiguilles @sunlitide @cityofidek

#brooke writes fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things imagine #x reader

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honey-beann · 11 months

Note

Bro please can I get “I broke the lock. You were screaming” with nines and our little detective? I don’t really have much of an idea for a story… maybe a case gone wrong and nines insists on staying with her because she’s clearly shaken?!? Idk I love your writing it’s def one of the things I look forward to on my feed <3

Okay SO first things first thank you, Anon, for your super kind words!! You are the sweetest <3

Secondly, I took the liberty of assuming based on the descriptor of "our little detective" that you're talking about the reader from Ruiner, Ruination, so I wrote this fic within that universe (which i hope is alright).

This idea led me to the creation of an offshoot series stemming from Ruiner, Ruination, which I have titled Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus. The point of this series is to highlight little canonical moments that have occurred between Nines and the Reader that went unsaid in the main series (hence the name Indictus, meaning "unsaid").

The creation of this series is super exciting for me because it allows me to write out requests in the Ruiner, Ruination universe AND make them canon without it being too confusing or weird to map out, since I can simply say where each fic takes place in the timeline as things are planned out and published in the original fic.

Anyways, sorry for the rant on the new series, but I hope you enjoy this fic and any upcoming Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus pieces that follow!

Avoidance Tactics (rk900 x reader)

A Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus chapter

Timeline - This fic has a lot to do with the events of the 7th Ruiner, Ruination chapter and takes place after the (currently unpublished, oops) 8th chapter.

Nightmares/sleeping dialogue prompt #2 - "I broke the lock. You were screaming"

Word Count: 3,586

"Could you hover a little bit less ominously? You're really creeping me out."

You muttered under your breath as you passed a wandering gaze over the incident report you had spent the past few hours filling out. Once you were done, you would finally be finished with the process of submitting Nines' work related injury to the DPD's HR department, which you were eager to be done with for good.

It had been two days since your partner's accident, and you had spent nearly every waking hour since avoiding the subject as much as possible by working yourself to the bone.

The unfortunate downside of this was that just 48 hours later there was nothing left for you to do but file away the very incident report you'd been avoiding, and honestly, that had been just as awful as you'd feared it would be.

It required you to go into immense detail pertaining to not only Nines' injuries, but also his reactions to them, the lethality of them, and the traumatic responses that may have occurred as a result of them.

Gavin had filled out his end of the form on the day of the injury back at the DPD with you, and now it was your turn to fill out the individual portion.

And to an extent you hadn't truly expected, the memories were haunting.

Your hands had shaken vigorously above the keyboard as you'd typed out the amount of blue blood that you had gotten on yourself in the process of stopping the bleeding,

the stickiness that lingered between your fingers for hours afterward,

the way it had remained spattered on your clothing even when you could no longer see it,

the scent of it and the way it had stuck to you until multiple showers later.

You had bit back tears when recalling the staticky quality to Nines' voice as his vocal modulator had struggled without the support of his circulatory regulator,

the slightly glazed quality of his eyes,

the way he had groaned in pain as they loaded him into the android care ambulance,

and the trail of blood he had left behind in the process.

It had all been so awful.

And the extent of his injuries had been no small issue either.

Without his stock circulatory bio-component, Nines' thirium pump regulator, and therefore his thirium pump as well, had been put under unnecessary strain for days now, unnecessary strain that would doubtlessly cause a machine like him to falter and shut down sooner than he ever would have otherwise.

And somehow, it was this fact that terrified you the most.

Sure, you had always known that Nines would outlive you,

that fact had never once bothered you,

but the idea that his likely absurdly long life would be cut short, even slightly, by this accident?

It unsettled you that such a thing was even possible.

Years off of the life of a thing that some didn't even view as living at all.

The humanity of it all struck you in the very worst way,

But fortunately you wouldn't really have to dwell on that for long.

"I am not hovering, Detective."

Nines replied coolly from where he stood beside the entryway of his dining room, where you had been sitting for hours as you worked tirelessly to write up your incident report.

"I am simply analyzing you to discern whether or not you are still capable of writing your report in a manner that will meet the Captain's standards."

You rolled your eyes,

"Well that really doesn't matter now, because I just submitted it."

Nines gave a low hum in response, but neglected to say anything more.

You were right though, he had most definitely been hovering, and for quite some time, at that.

He had started making his way throughout the apartment around the time you'd started your write up, and had been careful to ensure that he never stuck around you for too long as he performed his scans, which allowed him to discern whether or not your actions were causing you any emotional strain.

And every time that he had scanned you, the results always came back the same: judging by the amount of cortisol present in your bloodstream, the report was almost assuredly bringing back traumas you were not yet ready to unpack.

And yet, try as he might to think of something he could do, Nines had yet to come up with a single solution.

He was resigned to let you finish, and then, maybe, he might just get you to talk about what was bothering you.

Except now, as you looked over at him for the first time in hours, he could see how exhausted you were, and pushed the thought out of his mind.

It was time to get you to bed.

"Would you like to stay the night, Detective? The spare tooth brush you utilized the other evening is still in the bathroom, and I believe you packed an extra work outfit in your trunk after last time."

You glanced towards your partner quizzically, raising a brow as you closed your laptop,

"Seriously? I thought for sure you'd want me out of your hair by now."

Nines shrugged a bit at your statement before he moved to plug your computer in on the counter where the cord was located, just out of your reach.

"I have no qualms with you sleeping here if it would be easier. It is not as if I require the use of my bed for any particular purpose."

You gave a small laugh at that, but Nines was quick to note that it didn't reach your eyes, despite the distinctive lack of sarcasm found within it.

Your mannerisms were certainly concerning, but he tried not to over analyze for the time being.

You spoke up,

"Yeah, I guess not huh? In that case, if it doesn't bother you I think I might as well just stay over again. It'll give me a little extra sleep, which I could really use right now."

Nines gave a brief nod in response before heading into his bedroom at the end of the hall,

"Alright, in that case I should find you something to wear to sleep for the night. Any preferences?"

Your cheeks were dusted a slight pink as you spoke, and Nines noticed a sudden increase in your body temperature as well, but even so he chose to ignore it in favor of paying more attention to your response instead,

"Uh, I didn't mind the shirt you gave me the other night? If its clean?"

Nines hummed and retreated to the bedroom without another word, leaving you to make your way to the bathroom to get yourself ready.

You sighed as you stared at your face in the mirror, taking note of your haggard and saddened appearance.

God, that report had taken a lot out of you.

Forcing yourself to give a brief smile, you squeezed some tooth paste out onto your tooth brush before beginning the familiar motions that went along with brushing your teeth as you waited for Nines to return.

To your surprise though, by the time you were finished, your partner still had yet to come back from his detour at the end of the hall, so curiously, you opened the bathroom door, only to shriek in surprise when you saw that Nines was standing on the other side, that familiar shirt of his that you had worn the other night in hand.

You placed your palm against your chest as you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, shooting your partner a wordless glare as you did so.

"My apologies, Detective, I didn't mean to scare you."

You groaned and rolled your eyes before ultimately choosing to forgive the man in front of you, offering a gentle thanks as you took the shirt from him and re-entered the bathroom, closing the door behind you once more.

You took another deep breath as you looked back into the mirror, the scent of Nines' shirt wafting into your nose as you did so. You were a bit surprised to find that this was oddly soothing, and elected to ignore the comfort that warmed you as a result of it.

Afterward, you told yourself that you just happened to require a rather deep inhale at the very same moment that you were pulling the white undershirt over your head.

You glanced over at yourself in the mirror, legs bare and hair mussed from changing your shirt, and let out a soft sigh as you ran the pad of your pointer finger over the dark circles beneath your eyes.

It was definitely time for bed.

So, with that idea in mind, you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, letting it absorb some of the heat from your palm for a while as you basked in all of the external stimuli that surrounded you, grateful for the proof that the world around you was real at all.

And then, quietly, as if afraid you might be frightened once again, you pulled the bathroom door open, allowing yourself the time to glance up and down either end of the hall before making your way over to the door found at the very end of it, which remained cracked as an invitation for you to enter.

Nines looked up at you in greeting as you pulled the door open further, closing the door to his closet before he made his way over to the bed you were now working to climb on top of, his foot steps quiet and lithe behind you before they halted at the foot of his queen sized bed, which was fitted with the same huge black comforter as last time.

You glanced up at him as you laid your back against the soft pillows found at the head of the bed, struggling to make eye contact as you tried not to think too hard about the comfort his scent had offered you previously.

God, what a weird thing to think about your partner. Maybe you should buy him a cologne so he smelled different or something.

You shook off your thought as Nines brushed imaginary lint from the blanket you were now comfortably laying beneath as he finally spoke,

"Is there anything else you need, Detective?"

He watched you intently as you shook your head, and gave you a few moments afterward to change your mind before he finally started turning around to head back out the door.

"In that case, I'll just be out in the living area. I will remain in light stasis so you won't have to worry about me being hard to wake up if you find that there is something you require my assistance for. I will also be locking the door, as my research has supported that this will help you feel safer. Is that all agreeable with you, Detective?"

You were a bit taken aback by the sudden influx of information, but nodded nonetheless after allowing yourself a few seconds to comprehend what was being said to you,

"Oh uh sure, yeah, that's fine, whatever you want."

Nines gave a slight nod in response before clicking the lock in place, taking a step over to the other side of the door frame before he turned back to look you over once more, his eyes traversing your frame slowly as he did so,

"Sleep well, Little Mouse. I will see you in the morning."

And with that, he was closing the door behind him before you could say a word, leaving you with nothing left to do but drift off to sleep.

And drift off to sleep you did, though it was far from the peaceful slumber you had anticipated.

You fought back a cry of pure anguish as you watched the android, the same AV500 model from the abandoned car factory, shoot Nines for the fifth time that night, this time right between his eyes.

Your partner fell back soundlessly, his body hitting the ground with enough force to make the floor shake as he stared up at you with those unseeing gray-blue eyes of his.

They were so haunting like this, when you could tell they were observing nothing despite their unnatural openness, and you forced yourself to reach over the close them in spite of the blue blood that coated your fingers as you did so.

It was sticky and warm, just as it had been every other time he'd been shot within this hellish nightmare, and you had to stop yourself from vomiting as everything started all over again.

Here you were, for the sixth time, standing in that same room with that same murderous android, and once again, there was nothing you could do to stop him from killing your partner.

You couldn't plead for mercy, tackle the man to the ground, or even shoot him with the gun Nines had provided you with. You had no choice but to simply stand there and watch as he gunned down your partner, your friend again and again.

It was torturous.

And this time, as he shot Nines right in his thirium pump, and you saw that pained and confused look on his face for the sixth time that evening, you couldn't help yourself.

You screamed.

You screamed out of fear, out of frustration, and above all else, out of grief.

Here in this nightmare, you couldn't even tell what was real anymore, and with each passing murder, you could swear that Nines had really died back at that factory, and that this reality, where you simply had to watch and suffer wordlessly, was the real one.

You screamed for so long your throat hurt even within your own dream, raw and painful as you prayed internally for this torture to end, eyes squeezed shut and brimming with tears as you heard distant gunshot after distant gunshot go off before hitting thick plastic over and over again.

You would never be able to forget that sound.

But then, even more distantly than those gunshots, came the sound of Nines' voice, far off and calling out to you as if he were searching aimlessly while alone in the dark.

And without a second thought, you called back.

You awoke gasping for air, throat aching tremendously, and eyes stinging both from your tears and from the much too bright light coming from the lamp to the left of you.

But none of that was nearly as noticeable as the android who was hovering above your form as you laid on your back, his arms poised on either side of your head as he looked down at you with an almost fearful look on his face.

"What the- Nines?"

You croaked out in confusion, glancing over at the previously locked bedroom door as you attempted to make sense about what was going on.

“I broke the lock. You were screaming”

Nines all but panted out, eyes still a bit wild as he slowly began to pull away from the bed, standing at the edge as if afraid you would start screaming all over again the moment he moved.

You squinted your eyes in confusion and in an effort to mitigate the impact the lights were having on your head,

As if he could read your mind, Nines reached over the turned the lamp off without a word.

You sighed softly, noting the way that the air barely managed to leave your mouth due to how shaky you were feeling.

That nightmare had to have been one of the worst you'd ever had.

And the worst part yet? It wasn't going away.

You could still hear the sound of a single strong bullet hitting thick hard plastic, and you could feel the splash of warm thirium against your skin as a result.

It was horrible.

Tears filled your vision as you sat up slightly, bringing your knees to your chest as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? Why were you torturing yourself like this?

You were just about to ask Nines what was wrong with you when he spoke up first,

"May I see your hand, Detective?"

He asked not unkindly, and hesitantly, as if afraid this could somehow go awry, you gave it to him.

You then watched in the dim lighting of the bedroom as your partner raised your hand up to where his thirium pump worked tirelessly within his chest, pumping in a manner that you could feel as it did so.

"I am alive."

He murmured softly, and you briefly wondered how he had known what was bothering you without you saying a word before you simply let it go and pressed your hand harder against the area below his sternum, feeling the evidence of his existence thump strongly against your palm and the pads of your fingers.

You looked up at him then, tears pooling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks, and asked him for something you had never once expected to throughout the entire duration of your partnership,

"Nines, can you lay here with me?"

You murmured, watching as the android briefly contemplated your request before nodding once in compliance.

The bed dipped slightly as Nines dropped his knee on to the mattress before climbing the rest of the way over to the empty spot beside you, where he sat a bit awkwardly as he awaited your next request.

None of this was familiar to him in the slightest, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not figure out what you might want from him.

You sighed in slight relief as you laid yourself back down, noting the way that Nines watched as you did so before slowly doing the same, his head propped up by the pillows as he laid his palms face down on the mattress at either side of him.

He was very clearly not used to laying down, but you almost found it endearing that he remained so stiff even when in a position that was meant to be relaxing.

How very Nines of him.

Giving a gentle sigh, you turned your body on its side in order to better face your partner, who immediately shifted his gaze towards your own as you spoke, your hand raised ever so slightly towards him as you did so,

"Would you... Do you mind if I feel it again?"

Your cheeks burned as you considered your own request, but before you could back out, Nines shook his head before expressing his response verbally to reassure you,

"Not at all, Detective. I have no issues with you touching me if that is what you require."

You couldn't help but clear your throat upon hearing his words, but slowly lowered your hand onto his chest anyway, feeling yourself relax a bit as you once again felt his thirium pump beat strongly against your palm.

"Does it help you to know that I am well?"

Nines murmured, giving a low hum of interest as you nodded in response.

The room was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again, his voice quiet despite the silence of the room around you.

"I did not realize you had been so deeply impacted by my injuries. I apologize for my ignorance."

You were quick to shake your head upon hearing his words, and raised yourself up onto your forearms to better address him as you spoke,

"Don't apologize. I didn't realize either... I think I was just hoping to ignore it until it went away on its own."

Nines didn't reply, but instead gave a gentle hum of acknowledgment as he further considered your words.

You, on the other hand, took the silence as your queue to try and get back to sleep, something you were more than a little bit eager for after your night of terror and exhaustion.

Even still, you found yourself struggling to drift off, despite the added comfort of Nines' thirium pump as it beat steadily beneath your palm.

And after waiting and waiting for sleep to overtake you for what felt like far too long, you sat up on your knees and faced your partner in the darkness, your cheeks tinted pink as you made your second humiliating request of the night.

"I uh I can't sleep. Can I try something?"

Nines gave a small nod of approval, curiosity evident in his tone as he replied,

"I don't see why not, Little Mouse."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the familiar nickname, and swallowed thickly as you pulled yourself closer to your partner, letting out a nervous sigh as you lowered your torso back down onto the mattress, straightening out your legs beneath you as you let your head fall to Nines' chest, where the sound of his thirium pump working tirelessly within immediately filled your ears.

And with that, even more so than before, you found that your body grew relaxed, your eyes becoming heavy as you allowed your newfound comfort to will you to sleep once more.

Nines remained silent all the while, but watched you as you slowly drifted off to sleep with your head lying atop his chest, soothed by the sound of his artificial heart as he relished in the knowledge of your safety and comfort, even within a presence as dangerous and cold as his own.

AO3 Link

#s: ruiner ruination #s: ruiner ruination - indictus #c: nines #rk900 x reader #dbh x reader #request #prompt requests

107 notes · View notes

hongcherry · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm doing good, thank you for asking and for answering my question :D. I REALLY love your writing and I want to request a roommate!JungKook x roommate!reader enemies to lovers fic, when it's raining a lot, so the power goes out and the reader is scared of the dark, please. I hope you're having a good day/night, don't forget to take care of yourself ♡

Your Light || jjk

"Being stuck in the dark with your annoying roommate was not ideal, however, maybe it wasn't so bad in the end."

💡 Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

💡 Rating/Genres: NC-17; Fluff, roommate au, enemies to lovers

💡 Warnings: Cursing, mc hates children (joking...), bantering, mentions of stereotypes of older people/grandmas, that's it?

💡 Word Count: 2.3k

💡 Author’s Note: Anon, I'm so touched that you like my writing so much! That's such a big and sweet compliment. I'll cherish it forever! Tbh, I've been feeling a lil insecure about it, so this really made me feel better. This prompt was also really adorable! I hope you enjoy it. I'm glad you're doing good 💖

part two

bts masterlist | main masterlist

What’s more annoying than telling your roommate to stop yelling at his screen at three in the morning?

Having to tell him for the fourth time.

If you knew Jungkook was an avid video gamer, you would never have agreed to room with him. But alas, his profile was too perfect to be true. A quiet guy who stayed holed up in his room? One that knew how to cook? Someone that could lift your heavy move-in boxes? Truly a winner.

If only that was the whole case.

Jungkook indeed stayed in his room, could cook, and could lift heavy items.

But he also made loud noises in the middle of the night, cooked at the weirdest times so you couldn’t leech off his food, and made you pay him anytime he helped you move items.

What a menace.

“If you don’t turn off that stupid screen at ten, I’m going to cut up all your cords,” you threatened, towel and spare clothes in your arms as you peeped your head in Jungkook’s room.

You were preparing to go to sleep early due to having stayed up late last night because of his stupid shooting game. It was also raining outside, which would aid in you falling asleep faster since you found the rain peaceful.

Jungkook didn’t reply and simply kept his focus on his screen. He wore a headset, fingers flying across the keyboard. Irritated at his lack of response, you stomped over to him and yanked off his headset.

To your utter annoyance, that didn’t even phase him.

“Jeon Jungkook, are you even listening?” you hissed.

Laughter came from somewhere in the room, but you two were the only one's home. It was not until you heard another voice that you knew where the sound was coming from.

“Is that your mom?” the voice laughed. “Tell her to go back to knitting a sweater for her cat.”

A gasp left your lips at the implication you were some old, wrinkly lady. You raised the headset to your face. You didn’t put it on, but you put your mouth near the microphone, so his “friends” could hear.

“How about you go eat your supper and go to bed, little vermin,” you angrily replied. “And I’ll have you know cats dressed in sweaters are cute!”

More laughter emitted from the headset.

“Supper?” another voice echoed. “I don’t think that’s his mom—more like his grandma.”

“Why you tiny piece of-”

“Give me the headset,” Jungkook finally acknowledged you. Not wanting to hear any more of the pests known as kids, you thrust the equipment in his open hand. You noticed his character had died and was waiting to respawn.

Jungkook slipped the headset back on and continued his game. “Relax guys. She’s just my roommate.”

Even though the device wasn’t near your ears, you could still hear their replies.

“Your grandma is your roommate?”

“She’s so uptight!”

“Seriously, tell her to calm down.”

Your hands clutched your belongings tighter. You told yourself to walk away—fighting with them was no use; however, you couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned down near Jungkook’s face to get near the mic once more.

“I hope your parents make you eat a pound of vegetables.”

“Go away,” Jungkook huffed and gave you a gentle shove.

“Tell me you’ll turn that off at ten.”

“Eleven,” he bargained, eyes glancing at you when his character died again. You must really be distracting him for him to have died twice within five minutes. Good. You hoped his ranking plummeted.

“Ten-thirty,” you said. “That or I grab my scissors.”

“Fine. Ten-thirty. Now leave before I get my own scissors.”

You scoffed, hand on your hip. “And do what with them? Make paper snowflakes?”

Jungkook smirked at you before turning back to his game. “Don’t think I don’t know where you hide that stupid stuffed chipmunk of yours.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at him incredulously.

“Ten-thirty,” you repeated firmly before walking out of his room and shutting the door. The walls weren’t thick, but at least it kept some noise out.

You started making your way to your bathroom; however, you couldn’t get rid of the paranoia that Jungkook really knew where Mr. BonBon was. You made a quick detour to relocate your favorite plushie. You had won it at an arcade on your thirtieth try. It held sentimental (monetary) value.

Once you were done, you trekked to your bathroom. Finally, you could end your day with a relaxing steamy shower. No doubt your shoulders were sore from all the stress you’ve endured lately. From tests to 3 a.m. hollering, you couldn’t wait to have some time to decompress.

The feel of the hot water pouring down on your body had your eyes closed momentarily. You could probably stay there for half an hour, but your goal tonight was to go to sleep early. You kept that in mind as you went through your shower routine. You were just rinsing the soap from your body when the lights suddenly went out.

Startled by the unexpected darkness, you fumbled to turn off the water. It must be Jungkook pranking you.

You hastily grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your body, so he couldn’t get a free show.

“Turn the lights back on, Jungkook!” you exclaimed.

When you didn’t get an answer, your brain started conjuring up fantasies. And not the ones where you find a charming partner and run off into the sunset. No, these thoughts consisted of a three-headed beast clawing its way from your drain, or a long-haired lady crawling from your mirror. While living with Jungkook was a pain in your rear, you much rather live with him for eternity than be captured by one of your “mind monsters.”

The haunting thoughts had you hastily scurrying from the shower, hair still dripping water and making a mess of your tiles. That was the least of your worries as an imaginary hand was reaching from the mirror that you passed on your way out of the bathroom.

You took two steps into your bedroom only to scream when you saw a dark figure standing a few feet from you. Your hand reached to your side to grab whatever was closest while the other clutched the towel around you. When you finally grabbed onto something, you flung it as hard as you could at the mysterious person.

They grunted, stumbling back a little and cursing under their breath.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” Jungkook grunted.

Your heart was still racing, but at least your shoulders eased.

“I could’ve killed you!” you screeched.

“I’d like to see you try,” he huffed. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you just knew that little shit was rolling his eyes.

As you were calming down, a loud thunder cracked outside. It had you jumping and shuffling closer to Jungkook unknowingly. That must be the reason for the power outage.

“I’m going to try to find a flashlight,” Jungkook spoke.

“What about your phone?” you wondered.

“Misplaced it, but I rather not use it right now anyway if I can’t charge it,” he said. He started to move, but you quickly stumbled closer so you could grab his wrist.

“Wait!” you exclaimed.

Jungkook paused in his steps to look at you. “What?”

“I- I can help you find it.”

The quiver in your voice grabbed Jungkook’s attention and he finally put some effort into reading your body language.

You were tensed, hand still holding onto him and your towel tightly. You were also strangely too close.

“You’re scared of the dark,” he stated, a small chuckle sounding at this realization.

“No! I’m j-just trying to help.”

Maybe you were scared. You hated the way your paranoia skyrocketed when you couldn’t see. There was something too eerie about having one of your five senses taken away from you.

“Are you crying?” he questioned, and you felt his hand brush against yours that held him.

“What? No. Why would you-”

“Something wet landed on me. Please don’t tell me that was your snot or something,” he replied, voice full of dread.

Your hair was still wet and probably leaving your floor slippery.

“I just came from the shower! It’s just water,” you groaned and slowly let go of his arm.

“O-oh.” He sounded startled.

Your eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness as some of the moonlight crept in from the window through your curtain.

“Let me change, but don’t-” you sighed at how much you needed him. “-don’t leave me.”

You expected Jungkook to make a witty reply, but he simply nodded, an action you could faintly see.

“Only if you let me sit on your bed,” he bargained. Each time he would climb on your bed, you would always shoo him away—claiming he was spreading his germs all over your clean sheets.

“Fine,” you said. You stuck out your arms as you felt your way to your closet. You could see the outline of some closer objects, but you still felt uncomfortable not seeing far away.

“Ah, fuck,” Jungkook cursed before you heard thudding.

“What happened?” you asked quickly, heart beginning to race as your mind pictured Jungkook getting snatched by the monster under your bed.

“Nothing,” he groaned. “When did you put a bench by your bed?”

Your body relaxed again. He must have tripped over it and fallen. “A day ago.”

Once you found your closest, you quickly changed to whatever your hands touched. You had clothes in the bathroom, but there was no way you were risking getting grabbed by another monster in there.

“Done,” you announced and reached out again. Jungkook met you halfway, taking your hand in his. It was your first time holding his hand, and you didn’t like the way your body warmed at his touch.

“Just going to go to my room; I have a flashlight there,” he instructed. His voice didn’t hold the playfulness or irritation it usually did. It was softer. It was odd to hear, but not unpleasant.

You followed him slowly down the hall to his room, the path familiar to you but still making you anxious.

“Wait here and I’ll get it,” he instructed and started to pull away. However, the moment he took a step forward, you clutched him again.

“S-sorry,” you said quickly when he was tugged back. Jungkook paused, staring down at you with eyes you couldn’t read.

Taking in a steady breath, he repositioned your hands onto his hoodie.

“It’s okay. Hold on,” he said and moved. You continued to hold onto his clothes while he shuffled around in his closet.

“Aha!”

Suddenly light flooded the room. Jungkook’s gaze drifted from the flashlight to you. With the light, your worrisome expression could be seen clearly. Not to mention, just how close you were to Jungkook.

“You okay?” he asked.

His voice had you moving away quickly, your body heating from embarrassment.

“Just fine,” you answered. “How long do you think the electricity will be out?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It depends I guess. For now, we can use this so our phones can save power.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Nice outfit,” Jungkook mumbled, voice teasing like you were used to. It somehow made you feel better.

You glanced down, only now taking in your mismatched attire.

“You try getting dressed in the dark,” you grumbled. He smiled and glanced around.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, gesturing.

You wanted to reject his invitation—make some sort of excuse to sleep in your own room; however, you knew you wouldn’t be okay sleeping alone. Before you could make your decision, Jungkook started to pull out an extra pillow and blanket from his closet. He tossed them onto the floor and then set the flashlight on the nightstand, light shining up at the ceiling. It had cast enough light to make you feel safer.

“If you don’t get in that bed, I’m going to keep playing until four,” he threatened light heartily when he saw you standing still.

“You already do that,” you argued but relented to his request.

“And I’ll continue doing that if you don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed as you climbed into his bed. “I’m in.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. “Good.”

A part of you wanted to offer to share his bed, however, you decided against it since you two weren’t that close. One night on the floor won’t hurt him anyway.

“Goodnight, Yn,” he mumbled from below.

You nestled in his covers, taking in the calming scent of them and letting your eyes close. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

Luckily, the electricity was only out for a few hours. It came back on in the middle of the night. You had started to leave Jungkook’s room, but he insisted you stay in case the power went out again. Not liking that possibility, you agreed. It wasn’t that bad being with Jungkook anyway.

Later that week, you came home to a box on your bed. You didn’t order anything lately, so you weren’t sure what it was. However, upon closer inspection, you saw your name on it. Inside was a chipmunk-shaped night light. You’ve seen these in stores and online, usually advertised to children, but that didn’t matter. It was battery-operated, which meant even if the power went out, you could still use the device.

Your lips lifted in a smile while you inspected the cute light. You set it on your nightstand and then returned your attention to the box. You still weren’t sure who had gifted you this. Though, sure enough, you found a card laying at the bottom of the box, face down. Turning it over, it read:

In case I’m not here next time. JK

Your eyes lingered on the hand-written note. Partly in denial that Jungkook, your annoying, disobeying roommate, had gotten you something so considerate. Nevertheless, your view of him was slowly changing—for the better.

You checked your clock and realized Jungkook would be home from his class soon. As a thank you, you started to cook dinner. It wasn’t going to be the most elaborate meal he's had since he was the better chief, but you hoped it would convey the gratitude you had for his thoughtful present.

Maybe living with Jungkook wasn’t that bad after all.

A/N: Thank you again, anon! 🥰

Also if any of you knit sweaters for cats, you're a rockstar. Don't let anyone tell you differently 👿

For my "shy/silent" readers, I've created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️mimikookie // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#requests #jungkook fanfic #thebtswritersclub #kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #anon ask #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #bts roommate au #jungkook roommate au #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x you #bts x you #flowers for bambi 💐

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emmyrosee · 1 year

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HIIIIII EMMYYY are you ready for possibly my most self indulgent rant yet?

so I actually haven’t had the best past few days and using fictional men as my comfort actually helped make me feel better a bit, soooo I’m here to share another rant in case you’re down and need this too!! :D

atsumu, the love of my life, my pride and joy, my husband, my everything tbh!! comforts you after a hard day, you’ve been down about so many things-body image (my main struggle as a not so skinny girlie tbh) not feeling good enough, missing out on stuff, whatever it is!! and when you get home you’re all teary and admit that the only thing you wanted all day was him. And he MELTS AND MAKES IT HIS MISSION TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER. he’d make sure you’re properly taken care of- sooooo many cuddles, the SWEETEST of sweet nothings whispered in your ear to make you ease up and feel so loved. That’s all he wants for you- he wants you to feel every single ounce of his love. He’s so set on taking care of you the best he can. Rubbing up and down your back and kissing you all over, every inch he can reach (if you’re like me with the body insecurities, he’d definitely give extra attention to those places). He’ll also do his best to make you laugh if you don’t want to talk about it. And when you wake up the next day, he’s still all sweet on you, making you breakfast and using your favourite pet names, etc. he hates when you feel sad, so he’ll be on high alert for the next couple days making sure his baby is recovering and not stuck in a bad place. I’m just so so so so soft for him always and he brought me a lot of comfort today so I wanted to share!!! There is absolutely NO RUSH to respond to this btw, please don’t feel pressured to!! ILYYYYY I HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL !!!!

anon <3

LITERALLY LIVE LAUGH L O V I N G THIS-

Listen. ListEN TO ME DAMN IT-

ATSUMU LOVES A THICC MOMMAS AND HE KNOWS YOU KNOW THAT, OKAY??? I DONT MAKE THE RULES AND IF YOU THINK I DO, I ACTUALLY DO BC THIS IS MY KINGDOM

also just as a tiny baby tw for some potential body dismorphia, there’s nothing in detail but I know negative talk in fics can trigger it, so I just want everyone to feel safe 🥺❤️

Listen. Self esteem is something hard to maintain. And he knows that, he’s so proud of you for the strides you’ve made- but no one always loves themself. No one always loves who they are or what they see in the mirror.

And he’d rather shove a toothpick under his toenail and kick a wall than ever have you fester in these thoughts alone.

The minute your fine ass comes strutting into your house, eyes a little watery and bottom lip trembling, he instantly jumps up and wraps you up in his big arms, cradling your head and shushing you softly. He’s not gonna make you talk while you’re sobbing into his chest, though his mind is soaring a million thoughts a second to try and figure it out.

“Bad day?” He murmurs into your hair once you calm down, and you offer him a sniffle and cling to him tighter.

“They’re so… mean, ‘tsumu,” you whimper and he’s about ready to maim someone and their first born.

“Who is?”

“The little voice in my head…” you choke on your tears while Atsumu tenses up. “And telling me you’re too good for me and I’m too ugly for you and fat and-“

“Stop.”

His sharp word make you tense up, and you look up at him with watery eyes.

He wipes one of your tears with his calloused thumb, “I’m not ‘too good’ for you. That doesn’t exist. You deserve even better than anything I could give ya; and even if you don’t feel like the sexiest piece of ass on this damned planet, it’s not for you to decide if I’m ‘too good’ one day. You’re mine baby, and the universe made us for each other. So shut your fine ass up.”

It makes you giggle, but you know that there’s complete truth in his words, and with a shaky sigh you nod and let him kiss you once, twice, and a third time with only love on his lips.

But he doesn’t stop there. Nay nay.

If anything, things escalate in the best ways.

Because he already can barely keep his paws off of you, but if you’re feeling especially insecure, even for brief stints, he refuses to let your mind continue to tread.

If he’s at the stove, you’re tucked under his arm while he cooks with his dominant hand, letting his left hand soothingly stroke your arm. He makes little noises and grunts when he wants you to try a taste of whatever he’s making, and he smiles when you hum in contentment.

If you’re folding laundry, he’s gently grabbing your hand and spinning you into his arms, dancing a quick back and forth with you; it ends when he bends you into a dip, but that’s mostly because the squeal and the subtle smacking of his chest lets him know that you’ve had your fun, but you need to focus or whatever.

When you’re washing your face, his arms are looped low around you with his chin hooked over your shoulder, smacking on a silly voice to “explain” what products you’re using and how much of it to use, like a beauty guru.

When you’re finally settled in bed and he’s finishing up in the bathroom, you smile sweetly at him from over your book when he slinks back in, basketball shorts low on his hips and muscle tee clinging to his frame. Wordlessly, he leans on the edge of the bed, soft lips tracing kisses from your cheek, to suckle at your jawline and neck, and once he makes his way to your collarbones, he takes your book out of your hands while you recline back.

“Bookmark it.”

“I know what to do.”

His lips move to the valley of your breasts to leave marks just along your skin, his massive paws cradling the soft part of your belly. Your breath hitches, and he hums a soft reassurance.

“My baby,” he mumbles. “Wish I could’ve been there with you today. Kept those nasty thoughts away.”

You mewl as he buries his face against you, the unruly parts of his hair tickling you softly, “you’re here now.”

“And I’m never goin’ anywhere.” He wraps his arms around your torso to nuzzle into you, seemingly settling into a comfortable position to sleep for the night.

You giggle, “comfy?”

“Extremely,” he murmurs. “Told Meian I was spewing chunks and couldn’t come in tomorrow, so you’ve got me all to yourself.”

“Atsumu!”

“What, you think ‘Omi’s gonna let me on the court if he thinks I’m puking? He hates puke.”

“Stop saying puke,” you whine, swatting at him with some giggles. “You’re killing the mood.”

“Ah?” He hums, raising his head with a cheshire smile, “there’s a mood?” He raises back on his haunches to wrap his meaty hands around your thighs, and with a quick pull, he’s got you on your back just below him, squeals and giggles pealing from your lips.

“‘Tsum, I’m tired,” you whine, though your legs instinctively curl around him.

“Not gonna do anything,” he assures, the hands moving from your legs to brace on either side of your head. “Just like lookin’ at you… always love lookin’ at you.”

“Creep.”

He cocks a brow, “you think that’s creepy?”

“I do.”

“Well wait ‘til you hear what smellin’ ya does to me.” Before you can say anything, he ducks his head down to the soft pillowiness of your neck, taking ridiculously loud inhales through his nose. You shove at him with uncontrollable laughter, knees bumping into his back.

“You freak, get away!”

“Wait ‘til you hear what feelin’ ya does to me,” he mumbles from your neck, and in a similar fashion, his left hand comes down to claw at your sides dramatically, his sniffling now mingling with the tickling.

“S-Stop it!”

“But nothin’ quite like tastin’ ya, dollface.”

Your mind can barely process his words before he leans up to kiss the giggles straight from your mouth, his massive frame keeping you still and as if protecting you from anything you may fear.

He’s warm, he smells divine and he feels just like home, and for a moment you forget that even if you hadn’t come home and said you weren’t feeling great, there’s still a chance the night could’ve ended the same.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He whispers, nuzzling your nose with his.

You bite your lip, “I want cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”

He chuckles, “you got it boss.”

And just as atsumu always does, he holds true to that; the next morning, you wake up to the smell of vanilla and honey dancing through your home, and while part of you is bumming out for not being in your boyfriend’s arms, he’s up for you.

He does his daily affirmations with you- once again obliterating you with tickles when you snort at some of them- makes sure you eat anything you desire because he could die from the idea you’re not eating enough because of the things you try to convince yourself, and just. Being there. Holding your hand, complimenting you no matter where you are, playing hooky on his day off just to make sure you’ve got your fill and you’re right back where your sexy ass left off.

“‘Tsumu?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Thank you.”

He kisses your hairline without a second thought, wrapping an arm around you and letting you curl against him.

“Never gotta thank me for something I was born to do, babydoll.”

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tickle-bugs · 1 year

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This is probably going to be long lol so sorry You outdid yourself with the beetlejuice story! I am the anon who requested it and I am absolutely blown away. Everything about it was just pure perfection (including the way you described the musical compared to the movie and your disclaimer for beetlejuice and Lydia shippers) and I laughed out loud so many times. The vibe was exactly like the musical and it was just perfect. The characters were written so perfectly and so much like how they are in the musical. I loved the little Easter eggs like the spin your own yarn kit and the kombucha. Also, a coin collection is such an Adam thing to have. I love how you wrote Adam and Barbara’s relationship and how you wrote them as characters. The way you wrote Barbara was so flustering and wonderful and I am here for it. It was so cute and so accurate. Also beetlejuice eating the game pieces made cry from laughter it’s such a BJ thing to do. The back and forth between BJ and Lydia was just perfection especially how lydia described the maitlands 😭 and her saying she will bring bj back to life just to kill him. This is my new favorite fanfic I have ever read. Thank you so much for agreeing to write for beetlejuice! It was amazing

*cradles this in my hands* this ask can fit so much serotonin in it

First of all, thank you for swinging by to share this with me!! It always warms my heart when the original prompter comes back ;w; I'm so so so glad you enjoyed the fic. Thank you for requesting it!

This is like BEYOND sweet I'm blown away. This musical has a special little place in my heart and brain so it was a blast actually getting to bring parts of it to life!! I really love the way everyone's personalities shine through in the show ahhh!!

Listen. I wanted them to list more attic things in 'Barbara 2.0'. I know Adam and Barbara have the most USELESS stuff in their attic that they constantly just shuffled around until they died. If you made the kombucha and it tasted like armpit why did you keep it, please--

Also I just really love Barbara and Adam as characters?? They're really endearing to me. My favorite pottery barn and dry white wine duo. Had they lived any longer they would've hung a 'bless this mess' or 'live laugh love' sign above the door. Just a wifeguy and his beautiful wife. They both think mustard is too spicy but they'd go full poltergeist if a teenager called them dude. they're so!! yeah <3

AND YES BEETLEJUICE!! I'm so grateful to have seen the show live a few times because like. alex brightman (who played beetlejuice) always did and improvised the smallest but most random things and his mannerisms really stuck with me. There was a night where both he and Adam's actor (i believe he was a swing? or the adam after the original) kept messing with each other and they both broke character during 'fright of their lives' giggling like children and i was like yes. this is the vibe i need. BJ's the living embodiment of 'never let em know your next move'. He's super super fun to write. my beloved wretched little goblin <3

BJ and Lydia's friendship is truly so special to me they're just both so weird. It's one of the main reasons that I love the musical so much--you know where the show is going if you've seen the movie but you really feel like BJ and Lydia could be friends. It's sweet. She's got ghosts in her attic and they care about her, what more could she need?

Also LMAO I'm glad you thought the disclaimer was funny. I made myself laugh writing it. I've unfortunately always gotta put disclaimers on certain things I write but I figured lets at least have some fun with it hehe

ALSO ANON LOOK AT ME. LOOK. NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR LONG ASKS IT MAKES MY DAY!! seriously like!! the fact that you were moved enough to write this much about my silly little fic means the actual world for me. never ever apologize, there's nothing to apologize for <3

#bug answers #anon #also theres one more easter egg...#lydia's 'worst of the best' line came from the workshop version of say my name!#i know the demo edition of the musical is available on apple music and possibly youtube? but its so cool to see how much its changed!!#also was inspired by the fact that when you see the show beetlejuice pretends to tickle lydia at the end of 'that beautiful sound'!#well. at least alex does idk if the swings would do it but yeah #that was...an experience seeing live #to have this elevated to the status of being ur fav is a true honor bb ;w;#thank you again for this lovely message!!!!#doing that thing where i ramble about my fics but!!! truly i just really loved writing this #and ive wanted to write a fic for this show for forever now #and!!! ive got a maitlands prompt on my list too so more is coming!!#this show's constantly stuck in my head but i wouldnt have it any other way

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jonathanbiers · 1 year

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longtime reader first time anon! in regards to the "steve doesn't know what a bisexual is" thing, I'm honestly going back and forth about whether ANYONE in a small town in the mid-eighties would be super familar with the concept — as a bisexual myself I am wondering. researching it hasn't come up with much, because while we know bisexuality was definitely developing as its own movement in queer urban spaces, how much of that permeated middle america?

hi, first of all i’m??? so flattered that you’ve read my stuff and stuck around to read more but anyway, getting to the subject of the discussion,

i mean i live in a small town but it’s not the 80s anymore and i was not alive then, so my perspective is still limited. but it’s definitely feasible to me that he’d be aware of the concept of bisexuality, whether or not he had the vocabulary for it.

but correct me if i’m wrong, we have evidence of him having an idea of the concept of bisexuality in the show when he reassures robin that vickie could still be interested, even if she had a boyfriend? and that smile at the end of vol 2 when he sees them interacting. that’s a “go best friend” smile if i’ve ever seen one, he sees her hitting it off. he knows she has a chance, even after they saw her kissing a guy

and if that’s not enough, david bowie was huge at the time and also known for liking both. this would definitely be talked about in a small town like that, even if it’s just to be derogatory(which lets be real it would) which makes it very hard for me to believe he’s never been exposed to the concept even if he’s repressed his own feelings, which is basically what you’re talking about in the third ask. i hope you don’t mind me condensing them all into one post btw jajdhjdnf

also speaking of your third ask, i’ve lived that too!! this discussion is not about me but i wanted to throw it in there. and my experience is obviously different, but. i spent a good chunk of my self discovery journey identifying as a lesbian when i was, in fact, a transmasc dealing with comphet all along. i repressed the fuck out of my attraction to guys even when i didn’t yet realize i was one. that’s a very very real thing. even while doing things that were (for me) a very obvious sign of attraction. also, if you’re a longtime enough reader to have been around before i abandoned the multi chapter steddie fic that i just haven’t deleted yet, that’s pretty much where i was going to go with that just for the record. him realizing he felt the attraction all along and just repressed it because of (he wouldn’t know the vocabulary but) comphet. not some weird “what do you mean, both?” robin handfeeding him the dictionary definition of bisexual thing that happens way to often in fics to even be funny anymore

which brings me to your second ask. who decided that robin “trips and stutters around pretty girls” buckley and eddie “super super senior dnd nerd plays his guitar so much he learns master of puppets in a couple of weeks” munson are the experts on queer history and would be the ones to explain to poor little dumb baby steve that he’s attracted to both like he’s not a big boy with more emotional intelligence and depth than A LOT of main male characters out there, and who can figure shit out his damn self? please. robin is…robin, we love her, but she’s not giving me “goes to gay bars in indianapolis” vibes. who’s taking her to these, anyway? she can’t drive. she’s underage. definitely not giving me “has a fake id” vibes, either. try and convince me robin “or rather my mouth moves faster than my brain” buckley could get past a club bouncer. and eddie, bless his heart(affectionate), whether you’re a virgin eddie truther or not, is not some sex god who knows everything about being gay and swoops in to share this privileged knowledge with steve. those fanfics, while a fun fantasy at first, are something i’m sick and tired of seeing at this point. and yet the damage is seemingly done, the fandom has just come to that consensus at this point.

#anonymous #i’m sorry i got carried away and rambled at you #please don’t be shy to talk to me thoooo #i love talking to y’all and (as evidenced here) i do not shut up

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angelofthepage · 8 months

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Can you tell us about three of your favourite bits of backstory or character building for any of your OCs? :^)

Anon, you just made my entire day, thank you so much for sending this in! I would be delighted! Gosh, where do I even begin? There's so many ways I could answer this! I mean as the maker of an OC, you're they're number one fan, so there's a lot to love there. How do you pick a favorite part?

Over the last year or so (or at least, since a little before Dark Revival came out), I've let myself have more fun with Bella, an OC from my AU and fic Searching the Depths, and it's been very freeing. One of the biggest parts of her development that's been so fun to explore is just, letting her be a main character instead of denying myself that fun. It's made a world of difference and things are more fun to write now. She's gotten to be a little more frustrated as of late too. Much like Constance in TLO (and really, everyone in TLO), there's a lot of feelings she keeps hidden, but the more she's been exposed to the ink, the worse she's been at stifling her emotions. Turns out she's a very frustrated character who's fallen into the twisted thinking of 'if I just grin and beat it a little longer, it'll all be worth it' instead of taking care of/being honest with herself, and with the ink stripping her of a lot of her patience, that's harder to do. Same with lying. While working on my recent draft of Richard the Keeper, I've learned she has a really difficult time lying to Richard and Sammy. Truth by technicality, she can do, but straight up lying has become harder. I think these are some of the reasons why she and Sammy can relate. They were both people pleasers on different ends of the spectrum, and even though they butt heads, deep down they get that it's hard to function when those around you aren't meshing with how you do things.

In terms of backstory, here's one I don't get to talk about much: when I originally made Bella, she was an accident. She was my character for an RP blog my friend Margin used to run, Samsamthebandman. I hadn't roleplayed in a long time when we started doing stuff together, I was rusty and hadn't had a partner that let me contribute to the plot in any meaningful way in years. So Bella was a safe testing ground, and I'm glad I got to do that. Some of what we did there stuck when I went to develop my own stuff. Bella having a librarian friend named Cherie? That's canon to Depths, in fact Cherie is a lot more important than anyone knows just yet. I've mentioned her briefly in-fic, but just wait until you meet her. XD Same with Fiero, the candlestick toon, he was made around the same time and has stuck with me since. Bella being close to Sammy and seeing him as family was also a major takeaway from this.

Besides that, I'm pretty sure this is where the importance of the hat came from. Bella has this pageboy hat, which is based off of a hat I own. It was a gift from my senior ball date of all people, and I wore it a lot in college when I was having a bad hair day. X'''D The hat in-story was a gift from her father who passed away, and she's never without it for very long. Now, if you've seen anything with my art fight this year, you may have noticed that Bella has these massive sheep horns now (which have an amazing backstory let me tell you, please someone ask me about it it's SO FUN), so she's not wearing a hat anymore. Or at least, not on her head. The hat now lives tied to her belt loop, or in her hammerspace, always on her but in a different way.

Last note, I think one of the things I really love about her right now is the design upgrade. Like giving her curls and letting her be sheepy to match her name was great and I love it. But also, I love her name. The reason her name is Bella Ewe is so her signature can be B. Ewe, which out loud sounds like Be You. And ultimately, that's what her story is about, finding an identity for herself within the ink realm and moving forward from the death of her father. She has changed herself so much to fit what other people want or need her to be, that somewhere along the way, she got lost and doesn't know who she is anymore. In going on this journey with Sammy, Jack, and the rest of her new friends in the cycle, she's finding herself, not just existing to fill a gap in the group, but existing as the person she is, finding that she can be helpful and make a difference and still be Bella. And along the way, she gets to learn that Bella is a person worth loving, even when she's difficult, even when she isn't perfect, even when she breaks down.

That's been really valuable to write, and for me as a person, valuable to learn. Like, I don't get into it much, but I'm someone that spent a really long time feeling pretty worthless and unwanted, and moving forward from that has been really hard, but also rewarding to fight through. Bella isn't a self insert anymore, I've learned that we're very different people all things considered, but working on her has been healing for me. It means so much to me when people tell me they enjoy hearing about her and her story, that they think I have good ideas not just with Depths, but with all kinds of niche things in this fandom. I'm still shocked by the number of art fight attacks I got that were of her out of all the characters I put up this year, the number of kind comments about how cool her design is blew me away. Thank you guys for enjoying my silly little OC. She's my sheepy daughter, and I love her so much. It's nice to be allowed to talk about her. A few years ago I would've been told to shut up about something like this, expected to listen but never partake in the conversation. Now I get to share this part of what I do with all of you, and you're so kind about it. That's ultimately one of my favorite parts of all my OCs, I'm not the only one who enjoys them anymore.

#batdr #bendy and the dark revival #bella ewe #bendy ocs #bendy askbox #askbox #answers #thank you anon #genuinely you just made my whole day #ive been feeling like absolute crap all week #this was such a treat

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basicallyahedgehog · 2 years

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I want to ask you all the fic writer asks but I’m on my phone so!! Pick three (3) that you want to answer!! 😍😍 pls and thank youuuuu!! xox

Hello my lovely!!!

I am so terrible at making decisions, so I counted how many emojis there are (35, if anyone is wondering) and stuck them in a random number generator!

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Ooh. The main thing I'm working on is anon :( But here is a snippet of my "fic to wreck @phoebe-delia"

It was Ginny who got in first, her quidditch-captain’s voice ringing out across the room. “Who is the prettiest person in the school?”

Harry smirked. “Gin, you’re my ride or die, but we all know that the prettiest person is…” He trailed off purposely, teasing his friends by keeping them in suspense. In the light of day he could barely get a word through the permanent lump in his throat. But in the dim common room, his head buzzing with cheap alcohol, he could say anything.

“Malfoy.”

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I have a few. That moment when Malfoy and Potter become Draco and Harry gets me every time. The little oh moment when one of them realises how they and/or the other one feels. And also when one finds out the trauma the other one has been through, I just always see that as an incredibly soft and vulnerable moment, with lots of hands on cheeks and faces hidden in necks and it turns me into a Georgie puddle.

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I hoard them like a little dragon. Do hedgehogs hoard things? I go all soft and gooey and can't function for a few minutes every time I get a comment on a fic. I'm not super confident in my own writing, so it genuinely surprises me every time I get a comment and I feel like a child with a new toy.

I love feedback, when it is given from people I trust and I have asked to provide it. As much as I love comments, that's not where I want to get feedback from. But from my beta readers, or from close friends who I know are only there to help me become a better writer, then I love to get feedback.

Send me emojis to ask me things!

#ask games #ask me anything #this was fun

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wsdanon · 1 month

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I haven't written much on that specific idea, for all it lives in my head (there's a lovely bit earlier in the series where Felps begs Pac to not just give up and let himself be killed but he gets interrupted so never hears the reply of 'for you', which I adore, but is *much* more embedded into the au and plot and stuff itself. And I'm not sure you're in the mood for being thrown face-first into an alien invasion au where the relationship you like is to one side). I do however have one bit set after which doesn't need much to any knowledge of it! You may have already seen it idk its been on ao3 like a month. But the ship tag I used doesn't redirect to the main one yet, so er... https://archiveofourown.org/works/54009718 . This one is Felps having a very bad day! (They're still circling around each other 10+ years at that point, but Pac *does* call Felps pretty which is maybe progress)

And don't worry about it if you don't wanna read, I give because you asked, not because I expect it? Am just trying to keep you company because feeling sad sucks.

Tragic slowburn while taking care of each other my beloved. Deeply emotionally connected but absolutely not talking about or defining it. Love is there, but they will not say it. Honestly I fell in love with FelPac once I started writing it, and then I'm sat with my notes like 'fuck I want more of this'. And then failing because writing is hard. And also brain made more aus where yes there is some but also I *cannot* be starting another when I've got one at 80k+ and not even half done, you know?

Sorry, er, nice things for you... Even if you don't read the fic, which is totally fine, please know that while Felps is sleeping off the worst of his flare up Pac sits with him and makes him a flower crown so he can feel pretty when he wakes up despite being yk sick and so feeling a bit gross.

(I'm mostly anon because my mcyt one is a side account. And sometimes I don't anon anyway, but things are a bit spicy in the fandom atm so I'd rather not, you know?)

oh wait yes i have read some of this \o/!!! wow!! i regularly check the felps tag and usually just check the felpac tag when i'm in a rereading mood, it's sad your fic hasn't linked up yet but it's not a very popular tag (only 12 fics, 13 including yours) so i guess that might be why (i don't really know how it works)

anyway i really enjoyed the fics of this au i've read \o/!! i'll have to go back and look into it more properly but yes… reading is a bit difficult right now… also, yes writing too… we're stuck in a similar situation sadly

for my aus i like to mess around with it--slowburn, maybe not so slowburn, etc--but for canon i like the slowburn at least a little. like festa junina happens and it's still a while before they do anything… i like to imagine they'll get there eventually, but either way they're still deeply emotionally connected like you said. i'm really glad to see more people are getting into felpac \o/!!!

also yeah same i have a few aus but… i'm already writing two multi-chapter fics i absolutely can't start any more. too overwhelming 80k words is very impressive \o/!!

#wsd/a.non #wsd/a.sks

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look-at-the-soul · 1 year

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Hi! Gossip girl here❤️❤️ I hope you're doing well! ❤️❤️ I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond to your last response! I saw it but it was right around the time my college got busy with exams and final papers and stuff (went pretty well yeah!) but now I'm on break and have to chance to get back! Plus then my anxiety go the better of me again for a bit there so I'm trying ti get back to it! But I hope you had a good Holidays and a good New Year!!

And also I did get to read the drunk Tommy story "Drunk on You" and it was so cute and made me laugh😂😂 Especially the part with the Ibble Dibble game! I didn't know that was a real game and looked it up😂 I loved that story!

And yeah I'm not able to write when there's too much noise, I get distracted pretty easily and the idea of people I like live with finding out about it just makes me nervous for some reason even though I know they probably won't care too much😂 I have gotten to write more only I got stuck on the michael fic I was doing and started something else and then got stuck on that😅 But I also feel really bad that I haven't actually posted anything in months and I know I have things some people want me to continue but I go to write them and get stuck😅 I think I want to start doing stuff again but I may easy myself in with like headcannons where I can bullet point it out.

And oh you've been reading Alfie stuff! That's cool! There really are some good writes for him! Every now and then I'll get on an Alfie kick and got through the tags with him just reading stuff😂😂 Truth be told I'm kinda on a Morpheus kick right now? From Sandman, have you seen that show? It's pretty good!

I have been on here for a while I guess but for the longest time I didn't post any stories just small things (and even that took a while) and I also still majorly interacted in anon. I think I've had longer interactions with some people as an anon going back and forth than I have as my account😅😅. Even though all my interactions have been good! Hopefully I'll fix that one day!

And I actually haven't seen the new version of gossip girl, I actually haven't finished the original yet I should probably go back and do that😂 have you seen it?

But yeah! I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond back! I hope you're doing well and your new year is going great!!!

Xoxo gossip girl❤️

Hi GG! Missed you around! I was wondering how you were doing, but I’m happy to hear your exams went well, yay for the good notes!!! :) hopefully you will continue like that.

Please forgive for taking so long… how did your break go? It’s been hectic days between reading and writing…. But I always enjoy getting your messages, I peo,Isela I won’t take so long to reply next.

Oh I hope your anxiety is gone (I know it comes like waves…), try to take deep breaths and take it easy on yourself.

I’m glad to hear you read that one! It was fun to write, I didn’t know about that game either, but I love adding those elements into the stories, think it adds a nice touch or make them different..

Yeah, I know that feeling 😊 like mmm nope haha… oh! Please tell me how are both stories going? Did you manage to get out from the writers block? If you need/want to share ideas back and forth, I’m sure you can figure something out;) you know, recently I reblogged a post that said something like that idea you’re doubting, turn it into a Drabble, a small story, straight to the point it doesn’t have to be a 28 part series… and it’s been encouraging me to write more, sometimes I feel like, what’s the point? Is it worth it? And then boom something magic happens, and I get little “signals” that gives me the fuel to keep doing it, so the main point is… write that story! 🥰 I really like those bullet points, sometimes it’s a great resource for an idea, or a small line… (I hope you do share some of that)

Yes, I mean I’ve just read a few Alfie stories, but he’s such a rich character, I was watching this cene the other day when he says his classic Shalom Arfur, and man… he knows how to turns heads haha

Yeah? I’ve seen a reboot or two,but I haven’t seen the series, what is it about? RecentlyI haven’t been to the movies much or either watching movies at home, I just saw Peacock, the movie Cillian did and I’m still wondering why he didn’t get an Oscar for that role, (or breakfast on Pluto for the matter), he shaved his freaking eyebrows!!! And going back to series, I still need to watch the final part for Virgin River, writing has been consuming most of time recently and some days I feel like I do nothing lol

Mhmm I wonder if I know you… it’s alright,if you want to keep interacting under the anon cap, that’s just fine by me, whatever makes you feel comfortable ☺️to be honest with you, I started just like that, commenting on anon, but then I realized I needed to keep up with the stories I was following so I made my blog, super scared at first to start posting my own stories, wondering if anyone would be interested to read, but along the way I’ve learned a lot of things, I think I’ve grown in so many aspects and I hope you do give yourself the opportunity to share your talent ❤️ I mean, what do you have to lose?

I’m a little apprehensive with second parts, so no I haven’t seen it, I mean look at what happened to sex and the city? 😩 but revisiting the original GG show might be a good idea! I wonder if it’s in any platform…

Thank you so much for reaching out, sorry I don’t have a lot of news for you, I just found two lovely local cafés I’m visiting sometimes to write and I enjoy so much that time, there alone with ideas flowing and a nice cup of coffee, maybe you could use that to keep writing as well? Or whatever works better for you (but I’m always suggesting coffee lol), but I can share I’m writing for Emmett, Robert Fischer, Jonathan crane and my usual series, would you like to see something in particular?

Are you reading something these days?

I hope your days have been better than mine, and your positivity surely brings a smile to my face

Can’t wait to hear from you! Lots of love GG xx

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thunderpetal · 2 years

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YAY anon asks!! Anyway I would love for you to answer hmmm 19, 29, 32, 33, and hehe 37 please. :3 (feel free to omit any of them, I choose violence by choosing not to choose but you don't have to!) <3

Still can't believe I never realised I have anon asks off when I've been on here since like December. ANYWAY,

19 - Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

I don't know. I get inspired by lots of things. Music being one of them - I come up with a 'what if every character played an instrument' AU for every fandom I've in, even though most of them never see the light of day. I'm also inspired by songs from time to time, but not as often as other writers, I don't think?

My family also visits Italy every year, and I always get sooo many writing ideas when we're there, it's ridiculous. I think just being in a wildly different place to miserable England shakes up my brain enough that plot bunnies start falling out left right and centre.

29 - If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Ooh, this is an interesting question. I went through my recced bookmarks on AO3, aka my absolute fave fics collection. In the end I only found one I would want to add to, since most of them ended in the perfect place. But Kids Protecting Kids by quirkle is a fic that's really stuck with me (everyone should read it), and I would want to write a little mini sequel after Wild wakes up where him and Legend just get to have a little chat and breathe out. together. Just another dollop of comfort atop the hurt/comfort.

33 - How do you feel about crack?

I love crack! And honestly I don't write enough of it nowadays. I'm really good at dialogue so crack used to be my forte, I wrote lots of silly fics back in the day. Now I've moved onto more serious horizons, I suppose, but writing serious fics is still kind of a struggle for me. I miss writing crack. My closest fic to actual crack is probably Five Teaspoons, but that probably counts as more just general humour.

37 - Talk about your current wips.

Oh, you've unleashed a monster by asking me this!!

Someday We'll Stand Here By The Sun (TOH, ongoing) - My magnum opus tbh. It's like 80% written rn, and I'm able to keep up a weekly updating schedule on AO3 because of that. But it's still far from done! Anyway, after S2 finished I was full of post King's Tide ideas, and most of them have made their home in this big multichapter. The main plot is the story of Luz, Amity and their trauma /lh. I have so much brainrot for them and their relationship, and S2B builds on their mutual confession so well. As we know there are two episodes in which Luz shows the same character flaw - hiding things from Amity/her loved ones due to a belief that her problems aren't as important as theirs, and wanting to protect other people's feelings. The fact that Luz doesn't seem to grow out of this flaw despite 2 EPISODES focused on it says to me that it's 100% something ingrained in her that isn't going away anytime soon. But I'll stop before I write a whole Luz character essay.

Point is, with the whole 'helping' Belos thing, Luz totally blames herself for the Draining Spell and is gonna spiral post S2, feeling like she has to get back to the Isles asap and fix all her mistakes, and MAYBE that will make up for how much of a horrible human being she thinks she is. So why did I choose to write from Amity's POV, when I started writing this to explore Luz's emotions? Well, at first I was worried about SWSHBTS being a 'Amity is Luz's therapist' fic, but Amity has so many issues herself that that was not a problem lmao. And I deliberated on doing alternate POVs - even made a pros and cons list - but in the end I went with Amity's POV only because she has a lot of things to say! (But there may be a chapter of Luz's POV... you'll just have to see)

I just love this fic so much, it is my baby, and uploading it is kinda the highlight of my week rn. There is so much in future chapters that I am excited for the world to see. Also, when I started writing it, it was out of motivation to make more Lumity Post King's Tide angst, cause there REALLY wasn't enough, but there have been many more fics in that genre uploaded since I began, and I inhale each one like they're my life force. Cause they kind of are. WOW that was a lot of words too bad I'm about to infodump about another 2 wips

Untitled Music AU (TOH, unwritten) - So I said that I come up with a 'what if every character played an instrument' AU for every fandom I'm in, and TOH is no exception. This was going to be a silly oneshot and now it's expanded into a whole multichapter universe that mostly exists only inside my brain. When I have the time to actually write it, it'll be great I'm sure lmao

But essentially Amity plays clarinet, Luz plays oboe, and they're put in the same woodwind quartet by Raine, their teacher at Hexside. This leads to them starting to become friends, but as they do, Amity starts seeing certain weird/supernatural things around school. (This is a human/no magic AU, to clarify). She thinks she's just going crazy, but she decides to confide in Luz. Luz is of course overjoyed to learn there's a potential mystery to be discovered in their school, and immediately joins Amity in playing detective. Yes I want there to be mystery in this AU, but I really have not worked out the finer details yet.

Other character roles include - Raine as Head Of Music. Lilith as their second in command in the music department - but she was also Amity's clarinet teacher until Amity was like nine/ten. One day, she suddenly dropped all of her private students and joined Hexside as a teacher instead. Why? Who knowsss! (You'll find out I promise). Eda runs the wackiest corner shop that sells Everything You'll Ever Need, and Luz is her employee and also her only oboe student. She's a longtime family friend of Camila, too. She took in Hunter, who plays bassoon, and Luz still considers Hunter her brother in this AU. Willow plays flute. She and Amity have a similar arc to canon, but it plays out a bit differently in this. And - this is my fav part - Blight Industries is a well-known company, and engage in copious amounts of rainbow capitalism every year. Meanwhile the Blight kids still genuinely have no idea if Odalia is homophobic or not.

And last but not least - the LU multichapter where Time dies and Twilight picks up the ocarina to go back in time and save his life (working title). But Time keeps dying, so Twilight keeps using the ocarina, and before he knows it he's in a Majora's Mask nightmare scenario of his own. This is one I was planning to write this summer before SWSHBTS came in and demanded attention. Lots of attention. So, I'm planning to get to this when SWSHBTS is done. I'm just so excited to write it - it's really going to push me as a writer, but I'm ready for that challenge if it means i can provide juicy Twi angst. The poor lad. I'm really going to put him through the wringer. And Time too, considering he's gonna die many times in the fic, but that's kind of just the plot.

This question really enabled me, so I'm impressed if you actually read all of this. But thanks for sending this ask in, anon!

#jay writes #asks #swshbts #should i make tags for the other aus? yeah go on #toh music au #time dies the fic

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starbuckie · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N.

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday.

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine?

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day.

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs.

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin.

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.”

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray.

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together.

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction.

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization.

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch.

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else.

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her-

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where.

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?”

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body.

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches.

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh.

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure.

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night.

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts.

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers.

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts.

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more.

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade.

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving.

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten.

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight.

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore.

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway.

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom.

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes.

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal.

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex.

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips.

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass.

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out.

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed.

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door.

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation.

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move.

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go.

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

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