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futurecorps3 · 2 years ago

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Hiii, could you write a nikokai fic where reader is like in love with kaz but he doesn't really pay attention to her. And then the crows meet sturmhond because of a heist and he takes interest in the reader form the first moment he sae her and makes her fall in love with him. And then whatever you want lol. Maybe kaz being jealous idk.

Sorry for any grammatical mistake, english it's not my first language.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: After years of being in love with the one and only Kaz Brekker, breaking her own heart, Y/N meets someone else... Pairing: Sturmhond x fem!inferni!reader, Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Warnings: The usual crow violence, DRINKING, jealous Kaz, mean Kaz, "unrequited" love for a little while, Matthias is alive and well like in the books duh but this is ofc before Nikolai becomes king, idc I just want my Fjerdan hunk happy in Ketterdam, curse words, kind of a messy timeline. HURT AND NO COMFORT. Lmk if I missed any.

Word Count: 2.9K!! Requested: Yes

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! :( I've been looking forward to getting to this specific request because oh my god, also, I changed it up a little; making Kaz actually be in love with reader but never really trying anything. Tysm for requesting love! Hope you enjoy :)

˚ · • . °

Exhaustion. That's what she felt, and to be honest, it was even more frustrating when Y/N knew she was doing it to herself. Those persistent yet futile attempts at reading Kaz's silence or gaze as something else; a love message, a confession of his sins, any sign of vulnerability reserved for her. However, these attempts, though fervent, ultimately proved fruitless.

How could she confirm what she thought she saw if, after, say, he appeared distressed at her being in danger or fumed when some dick was being extra disgusting at the bar that night; he went back to being his usual cold self?

When she finally obtained concrete evidence that disproved her misconceptions ("Jesper, she prefers black coffee" or "Y/N, could you join me in my office for a moment?" simply to spend time together in quietude), he strategically distanced himself throughout the week, transforming those precious moments of tranquility and companionship into ordinary occurrences, leading her to, somehow, misunderstand them.

Another shot of vodka and the pain her thoughts evoked was replaced by the burning, bitter sensation in her tongue and throat. "A hangover won't make Kaz let you stay behind tomorrow, you know that?" Matthias smiled next to her.

Since he joined the crows, the Fjerdan had taken a special liking to his girlfriend's best friend; she was funny, kind hearted and could keep up his pace in drinking games. Nina couldn't be happier to see her loves get along so well, saying it's her dream come true. "Oh don't even start, Matthias" Y/N answered, feigning annoyance as she poured more of the burning liquid into her glass and pulled out another for her friend.

They silently toasted to nothing in particular and chatted about their books as they usually did. Matthias' romance novel had an interesting love triangle Y/N was eager to read when he was finished. From how he talked about it, the girl knew it was just her type of story. They were in the middle of a playful argument about a plot-hole Y/N thought she found when Kaz approached them.

His usual demeanor seemed a bit... shaken. If you asked the blonde, he'd say he only looked more agitated, but Y/N/N knew better; his hair was covering his forehead slightly, but he wasn't brushing it back. The limp was prominent still, yet he wasn't using his cane. Kaz was in a rush to get to her, maybe?.

"One of your fellow countrymen is starting a turmoil outside, doesn't speak Kerch. Will you please, for the tree's sake, go and talk some sense into his thick blonde skull?" Saints, why did she like him so much? Even like that, Y/N thought he looked rather divine. Matthias stood up from his seat and directed himself to the entrance.

"Since when do you care for what happens outside that door?" She asked with a grin, genuinely curious. "I wouldn't if he wasn't scaring off the pigeons. No wealthy tourist will endure the trouble that some drunk Fjerdan means just to get inside a place full of people that'll take his money" the boy explained, looking down at her.

Kaz's complexion, kissed by the soft glow of the candles, is pale yet flawless, as if untouched by the harshness of the world he inhabits. His sharp, well-defined features give him an air of enigmatic sophistication, further heightened by the way the light dances upon his cheekbones, emphasizing their elegant structure.

Y/N realizes she's staring. She looks away.

The bastard smirks. "Finding something intriguing, are we?" And oh, she wanted to stab him to see if that would wipe the stupid grin he carried. "Oh, please, Kaz. You give yourself too much credit. I was merely lost in thought, contemplating the mysteries of the world. Your face happened to be in the line of sight, that's all."

Quick, sarcastic answer, as if the seconds between her silence confirmed even further what he was saying. He scoffed, drinking the remains of alcohol on Matthias' glass and fixed his hair in the process. "Stop drinking, a hangover won't spare you from our meeting tomorrow".

˚ · • . °

She should've listened. The crashing waves outside only intensified the discomfort, while the salty breeze seemed to carry a tinge of regret. Even the beauty of the sea she was now too used to felt distant and inaccessible, overshadowed by the haze of her post-indulgence remorse.

Nina, taunting Matthias with a mature Ravkan song and Jesper shooting bottles in the warehouse, created an uneasy atmosphere for hungover Y/N. This unsettling environment made it difficult for her to focus on evaluating any potential deals they were to discuss with the privateer Kaz said they were meeting that day. Also, they had been waiting for over an fifteen minutes now! She was surprised Kaz was waiting still.

He checked his pocket watch subtly, sighing at the tardiness of their Ravkan guests. Then, he looked over at Y/N. Even with those deep baggy eyes and with her head on her hands in exasperation, she managed to awaken that odd feeling in his chest. He hated it. No, he despised it.

If he ever accepted that he was down hard for the girl, he could also get over the fact that she, too, liked him. Well, he wasn't dumb! There was no denying that Y/N's actions warmed his heart. He just knew loving was a dangerous thing to do, a weakness he couldn't afford after spending years building a reputation in Ketterdam.

Then came a loud bang on the heave wooden doors of the warehouse. "Fucking finally" Y/N sighed, going to open the door herself before anyone would, wanting nothing but to end this as soon as possible so she could go back home to sleep. She grabbed the handle and pulled, the bright light outside blinding her momentarily before seeing the privateer and his crew.

"Hello gorgeous! Here to see Mr. Brekker. I'm guessing you're one of his associates?" A sharp, slightly deep voice greeted. The girl shielded her eyes from the light and found captain smily offering his hand out. In Ketterdam, rumours ran as quick as blood on pavement; Sturmhond knew that. He needed no introduction. Every person involved in not so legal activities who didn't live under a rock had heard at least once about the dog of the sea.

She took it, shaking gently. "Y/N Y/L/N, but if you prefer nicknames, call me Haepha". Then she stepped aside, pretending not to notice the smirk on Sturmhond's face so his partners could come in. The rumors hadn't done justice to his captivating presence.

The charismatic privateer stood tall, his dark hair falling in unruly waves that added to his allure. His piercing blue eyes seemed to hold a world of secrets, and a mischievous smile played across his lips. Dressed in opulent garments that exuded confidence and flair, Sturmhond commanded attention with every step as his crew and he approached the rest of the crows.

"I'll stick to your name for now doll, too pretty not to use," And the bastard winked at Y/N, making a Shu girl who was walking behind him with the same confidence giggle. The worst thing about pretty men is they know they're pretty, and knew damn well how to get away with being cocky. She knew his type, so she brushed the wink off and walked towards her friends.

Kaz and Sturmhond shook hands. Everyone who was fast enough grabbed a seat in old boxes or even on the floor. Jesper offered Y/N his seat, knowing that the vodka she drank last night was no merciful rival, and stood behind her alongside his boyfriend. Inej lingered sitting in a window near them as Matthias and Nina remained standing, contrary to all the privateers' team.

Kaz started making introductions, all a mere formality, Y/N knew. "You've met Y/N, our inferni. Behind him are Jesper, sharp-shooter, and Wylan, our demo-man. The blonde wall-resembling man over there is Matthias, and Nina is a heartrender. Inej in the window, our Wraith" he pointed, everyone nodding or waving at the dark-haired man.

"A Wraith alright, didn't notice you were there sweetheart!" He pointed out and then introduced the twins; Tolya and Tamar. As well as Anya and Andrei, who were two members of his ship's company who wanted to come by and see who they were working with. When that was taken care of, plans were strategized by both leaders and positions were given to each member.

Y/N knew Kaz was characterized by having plans from A to Z for very elaborate heists, but even this one seemed out of his reach, almost too ambitious. But if Sturmhond's name lived up to the myth, nothing was quite impossible for him and Kaz's love for money could get him to plot even the tiniest detail.

Their objective this time was to steal some kind of jewel called "the moon's tears". It was a gem said to be worth four million kruge, to be bargained for even more; the crows' biggest heist yet. The vault it was in was widely known for its impenetrable security measures, including seemingly impenetrable barriers, intricate lock mechanisms, and a team of highly skilled guards.

Those two were absolutely insane! Even before one considered the noble who owned the vault and therefore the gem they were trying to steal, knew Kaz from the past. It was an extremely peculiar coincidence that a masquerade ball was taking place some distance away from the location of the vault, which represented the perfect opportunity for the work.

This would allow them to exploit the lack of security and sweep the gem away. Nina would ideally take care of the distraction, to keep the nobleman from returning home too quick, but her heartrending abilities would be helpful to make a quick work to make the few officers guarding the vault doze off.

So it became Y/N's job. A job she was to complete with Sturmhond.

After the meeting ended and Y/N's headache had worsened, a deep voice was heard from behind her. She turned to find the charming privateer flashing a smile at her. "Looking forward to working with you, darling" He commented, offering his hand out and all. She took it and shook half-heartedly, eager to just go home and sleep for the rest of the evening.

"Me too, handsome" Irony laced in her tone. "Doesn't seem like it, you alright? You look like a ghost. Lovely, yes, but still ghostly" The comment made her smile, tightening the grasp on his hand but not shaking anymore "Just hungover s'all" "Told you so!" Jesper proclaimed from their side as everyone directed themselves to the door.

The privateer smiled sweetly. "Got any plans this evening?" "Other than rotting in my room until my body stops hurting? Not really. Why?" Y/N looked down briefly, realizing she still hadn't let go of his hand and then released her grasp "Well, if my days at sea have thought me anything other than how to read the stars..." he started, tapping the necklace with a star charm the girl sported.

A "gift" from Kaz (some jewelry that wasn't redeemed from a heist he let her keep). "...is how to cure a hangover. Mind coming with me to a bar? You can decide which". Going to a bar with a complete stranger who had a reputation of being in trouble most of the time and who she were to work with? Sure thing.

"Promise youll make it go away?" "Promise".

˚ · • . °

And what a plot twist he was. Jesper had jokingly said to the girl that she shouldn't take a privateer's word but he did termiante her hangover with some strange, black-ish liquid she didn't dare to ask the composition of. Then they drank more.

As the drinks arrived, they raised their glasses, the clink of crystal breaking the spell of their silent connection. Sturmhond smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "To new adventures and unexpected encounters," he proposed, his voice smooth and velvety.

Y/N couldn't help but return the smile, feeling the warmth of excitement spread through her veins. "To embracing the unknown," she replied, raising her glass in agreement. They took a sip, the flavors dancing on their tongues. A comfortable silence settled between them, allowing the sounds of the bar to envelop them. After a moment, Sturmhond leaned in, his voice low and captivating.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to this lawless corner of the world?". He asked, genuine curiosity lacing his words. Y/N's eyes sparkled as she recounted her journey, the challenges she faced, and the dreams that fueled her determination. Sturmhond listened intently, his attention unwavering, as if she held the secrets of a hidden treasure.

As she spoke, Y/N couldn't help but notice the genuine interest in Sturmhond's eyes. He asked thoughtful questions and shared stories of his own adventures, effortlessly weaving tales of daring escapades that left Y/N hanging on his every word.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a seamless exchange of ideas, dreams, and aspirations. Time seemed to melt away as they delved into deeper discussions, finding solace in the connection they were building. Laughter intertwined with their words, a symphony of shared amusement and understanding.

They became lost in each other's company, entranced by the way their thoughts aligned and their hearts danced to the same rhythm. And as the night wore on, their conversation continued, their new found connection growing stronger with every passing moment.

She couldn't help but think of Kaz, when exiting the bar, and on the way back to The Slat. When would he ever, in a million years, make her feel so seen? How could he? He seemed to be nothing but cold and a bad type of confusing to the girl.

Y/N was not blind, either. Sturmhond was known for his endless romantic encounters with women across the sea, and he was interested in her. Now, she could not deny the guy was a charming boy too pretty for this Earth, sharp as a knife and, as she found out that evening, shared a lot of ideals and interests with her.

Could he maybe work as a rebound? Maybe. Would she shamelessly use him as that? Could be. Having his eyes on her that whole meeting was no coincidence, and she liked his attention. Maybe what mends a broken heart was a handsome privateer.

They agreed to meet up the next day, his treat.

˚ · • . °

Back at the Slat, Kaz was fuming. No, not fuming; seething. A bar outing? She just met him! He could not believe his eyes when they were talking hand in hand like they had known each other from a previous lifetime.

In the little time that had passed since (most of) the crows had returned from the meeting, Kaz had already gotten four drunks kicked out, death-stared a group of dregs twice so they'd shorten their break time to get them to work and downed four vodka shots.

Why was he this mad? She wasn't even his and as far as she knew; he had no intentions of being hers either. The boy couldn't be mad at her, but he was, and Kaz knew very well he was being a big selfish shit. He could not blame Y/N either; the bastard she had been crushing on gives no signs of interest but a privateer handsome as the devil shows up with his attention completely focused on her? Of course she'd fall.

He just hated that feeling.

It's presence looms, heavy and suffocating, wrapping its tendrils around the heart, constricting with an iron grip. It whispers sweet poison into the mind, distorting reality and fueling irrational fears. Like a tempestuous storm, it rages within, lightning crackling with envy, thunder rumbling with resentment. It paints the world in hues of green, tarnishing every joyous moment with a bitter aftertaste.

And then his heart sunk into the depths of his dark soul when he saw them walk in hand in hand. That was the first time Y/N had walked into a room and not looked for him, he noticed. She was laughing at something Sturmhond had said as they walked up the stairs until they reached the door of Y/N's room. He kissed her hand and she kissed his cheek.

The privateer then walked down the stairs, noticing Kaz staring.

"She's one of a kind, that one... Might stay a bit more after the job's done. See you tomorrow, Brekker"

The feeling was now leaving an empty, bottomless void in his soul. He bottomed his shot glass then poured another one.

˚ · • . °

Time kept ticking and the void intensified, but Kaz learnt how to deal with it.

He learnt how to deal with it when he kissed her after the job was done.

He learnt how to deal with it when Y/N took a break from the crows to leave with him for six months.

He learnt how to deal with it when she returned from her trip, beautiful tan skin and a diamond on her finger.

He learnt how to deal with it when he saw her crying herself to sleep because she missed him.

He learnt how to deal with it when she left for good.

He learnt how to deal with it when she was named queen of Ravka.

Kaz just learnt how to live with the shame and regret of not recognizing that the one thing he needed was right in front of him, hoping she'd have a place next to him.

˚ · • . ° .

Hi! Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed:) I'm actually sorry for this one...

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

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criminallyvenomous · 2 months ago

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Anytime, Always - Spencer Reid X Reader (part three)

part two story masterlist

• Plot - When Dr. Reid came to speak at your University, you were thrilled. A big-time F.B.I. agent at your own school, how could you resist? Soon, that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t resist. Random meet ups and nights together were fun at first, but when he started guest lecturing on a regular? That was a whole new experience.

• Ship - Spencer Reid X Reader

• Fandom - Criminal Minds

• Warnings - Age gap (legal consenting adults), Alcohol, Fluff, Eventual smut, Pining, and of course a warning you might fall for Spence even harder post reading)

• Word Count - 1,322

• A/N - progressing through season eight despite the shitshow that was zugzwang. will most likely end up taking a bit more time before the next post as im still working on finalities and editing of part five, four being a short one with more of an emphasis on showing spencer's friendship with derek (don't ask me or do idc about my love for a good moreid moment of fanart/ fic i am not ashamed). five is going to be some subtle or maybe not so subtle smut idk bro.

It was a stressful eight weeks, midterms were leading to finals and you only got busier. You couldn’t help but think about your night with Spencer in the hotel every now and then. Sure, you had met up with a couple of college guys to pass the time and get some stress relief, but it was nothing like even the tipsiest night with the doctor.

The two of you texted at least once or twice a week, him checking up on how you’re doing in school and you on his work. He was trying to get as much done with the Bureau as possible, in preparation for his lessened workload after the holidays. He was excited to begin guest lecturing, even working with the Psychology 4000s professors on curriculum and syllabi. Sure, he wasn’t teaching a course entirely himself, but the University had full intentions of soft-launching his return to college and he wasn’t entirely opposed.

He hadn’t told you this, though. He thought it might make things awkward if you knew he was going to be regularly showing up at your University and maybe even joining your class. He didn’t want to put any sort of pressure on whatever was the two of your’s relationship.

“Hey boy genius, what’re you planning for the long weekend?” Derek asked, it was Black Friday and surprisingly, there wasn’t an urgent case to attend to over the weekend, leading to a break until Tuesday.

“Not sure, probably reading a few books.” Spencer replied as the tech analyst, Penelope Garcia walked towards the two men.

“Babygirl, how about you? How’re you spending your weekend?” Derek looked to his friend.

“Honey, I’ve been thinking about a bottle of wine and a marathon of rom-coms with takeout all week. Wanna join me?” Penelope asked.

“I’ll have to pass, I have a certain lady friend to go see. Why don’t you go visit that lady friend of yours?” He had still yet to let Spencer forget that he knew he went on a date. It wasn’t an often occurrence for Spencer and before he could even respond, Penelope was more than excited.

“Oh my goodness!” She clapped her hands, “Does little Reid have a girlfriend?”

“No, no, no.” Spencer confirmed. “Just a friend.”

“Maybe you should go see this ‘friend’ then. Catch up some.” Derek suggested with finger quotations around ‘friend’.

“Yeah, maybe.”

It wasn’t the worst idea, that night was great and he’d be lying to say he hadn’t thought about going to see you. He also really enjoyed being in your city and had made a few connections with some professionals at his speech. He might as well message and see if you’re free.

“Hey, what’re you up to this weekend? I’m thinking of volunteering to help out your Psychology Department.” He texted, completely lying. But was it really a lie if he could set something up with a phone call and you’d never know?

You were on your sofa with your closest friend on campus, Emma. The two of you were watching some random Youtube documentary on a childhood show of yours. You were sharing a bottle of white wine, something about that night made you more interested in the drink. You were on a study break for the day, having exhausted yourselves spending all of Thanksgiving break prepping for finals. You thought about going home to visit your family for the holiday, but it was your final year of undergrad and every test counted.

“I do NOT remember that scene.” She laughed, pointing at the absurd display when your phone buzzed.

“Ugh, is that Dr. Reid? When are the two of you going to just hook up and get it over with?” She asked. You had told her that you guys had hung out after the lecture, to chat F.B.I. and literature. You had not divulged what happened after.

“Yea, it is. He said he might be in town this weekend.” You told her, hiding a smile to the best of your ability.

“Nothing planned, but I can always pencil you in.” You replied to him.

“Great. I’ll be heading over late tomorrow. Sunday at two?”

“It’s a date.” You put your phone under your leg, knowing Emma would pry if she got the chance.

“Hey! It’s good to see you.” You exclaimed as Spencer walked up to meet you in your school’s library.

“You too, so where do we start?” He asked. You had offered to give him a tour, since the library had basically become your home.

“First floor is English and History based, second is entirely Mathematics and Chemistry, the rest of the sciences are on the third floor. Oh, and psychology and criminology are on the fourth. All the other majors are scattered across and the arts have their own library.”

“This is nicer than half the libraries in D.C. Is there somewhere we can get a cup of coffee?” He asked, taking your arm and interlacing it with his. You smiled and nodded.

“Down the hall.” You brought him over to the student café. He ordered himself a vanilla latte that he added way too much sugar to, and you got a Chai latte with cinnamon for the ‘fall ambiance’.

“So, what have you been up to? I know we texted a bit, but as you know, I’m a bit of a techno-phobe.” He joked and the two of you shared a brief laugh as you walked towards the elevator. You had mentioned the Criminology department had a whole set up for his colleague, David Rossi’s novels and he was curious to see.

“Oh, you know, school’s kicking my ass. But, I can’t lie, seeing you’re handsome face is helping with the stress.”. You chuckled and took a sip of your drink.

“Thank you so much.” He laughed awkwardly as you entered the elevator, pushing the button. “You know, you’re quite attractive yourself.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be staying at the Marriott again, would you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively with a half-smile/ half-smirk.

“I am indeed.” He smiled back, remembering what he could of that night. You entered the fourth floor and walked him over to the infamous Rossi display.

“Oh my god.”

“I know, right?”

There was a cardboard cutout of his senior next to a well thought-out displaying of his novels. You assumed this was due to your Dean’s friendship with the guy, but it was still strange. Spencer took a photo of the display and texted it to the work group chat he hesitantly agreed to join following Penelope’s invitation. Half the time he wish he had refused, like Hotch.

“Look who it is.” He messaged.

“No way!” Penelope replied almost immediately.

“Did you pose for this?” Derek sent.

“It was for a book tour years ago. I can’t believe it’s still in circulation.” Rossi replied.

Spencer laughed and showed you his phone, which elicited the same reaction from you.

“Here, let me get a photo of you with it.” You took out your phone and he did a little pose pointing to Rossi and making a dumb, but cute face. “This is great! I’ll send it to you.”

The rest of the library tour went well, Spencer listed countless facts and statistics about different authors and books and you couldn’t help but eat it up.

“What do you want to do next?” You asked him, tossing your empty cup into the trash bin outside the library.

“There’s a Russian film playing at the Blue Theatre that covers a series of puppets that become human and hunt down their creator.” He said without a thought.

“That actually sounds interesting, I won’t lie.” You laughed and he smiled. “But, we could get some Chinese food and relax?” You suggested.

“Oh, yeah. Finals are next week, you’re probably exhausted. How about we order to-go and head to my hotel?” He offered.

“That sounds perfect, thanks Spencer.”

part four

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #Spotify

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mimikyuno · 10 months ago

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my yuriful summer 2024 watchlist 🏖️☀️

now that i checked out the first episode of all the yuriful shows i was keeping an eye on, here’s my first thoughts and impressions

Mayonaka Punch

tags: comedy, supernatural, vampire

thoughts on episode 1: LOVED IT SO SO MUCH!!! i love the mc already she’s such a mess and i already love the dynamic between her and the raging vampire lesbian. my favorite from the ones on this list tbh!! need more cancelled youtubers and horny for blood lesbian vampires. also i have a weak spot for anime with adult characters who can drink alcohol and get wasted lol. WILL be watching EAGERLY.

yuri thoughts 🌸: the yuri looks solid!! there was verbal mention of lesbian romantic feelings. and as in most vampire shows, blood drinking is metaphor for sex but it’s made quite explicit in this one which increases the yuri score. the protagonists have already a v interesting dynamic im invested.

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: i love this one more and more!!! still my fave out of these 5 for some reason? i just like masaki and live’s dynamic a lot, i hope they kiss

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: only one of these im still watching lmao ep 9 and 10 were really good! i hope masaki and live make out by the end. yuki best girl

Na Nare Hana Nare

tags: sports

thoughts on episode 1: LOVE the colors and art style in this one! love that there’s a girl in a wheelchair!! love the brazilian girl who keeps kissing everyone!! the parkour girl is turbo autistic fr… also a ninja lmao. im v interested in this tbh!! will be watching.

yuri thoughts 🌸: im v interested in the possible yuriful dynamics, especially between the girl in a wheelchair and mc, and between parkour ninja autistic and tall girl. i think the brazilian girl and girl who follows her around are also supposed to be shipped.

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: yeppp turbo autism ninja is a huge lesbian i love her sm 💌. very sweet show!

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: on hold. it got quite boring at the ep 5 mark and i cant will myself to continue. might drop

Senpai was Otokonoko

tags: crossdressing, love polygon, romance, school

thoughts on episode 1: this counts as yuriful and i Will fight u on this. bisexual girl x closeted trans girl x closeted gay childhood friend love triangle? discussions of gender identity? yes pls. will be continuing it!!

yuri thoughts 🌸: makoto and aoi are cute 🥹

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: idc about whatever happens later on, makoto is a trans girl, episode 2 and 3 are an insane confirmation. even if she never breaks through her eggshell throughout the whole series, she’s trans. no like fr. i love her so so much and i hope she’ll be able to transition (either at the end of the series or afterwards). egg of the season 🥚🏳️‍⚧️

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: meh. dropped lmao

Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan

tags: comedy, gag humor, school

thoughts on episode 1: “shiiiika 🦌!!!” okay y’all know i love me some gag humor anime but tbqh im feeling kinda lukewarm on this one. maybe it’s bc i had rly high expectations for this but idk most of the gags did not hit as nice as i hoped. tho some of them were brilliant (also looove the constant breaking of the fourth wall). not looking forward to the siscon character that’s gonna be introduced. will be continuing but might drop if i get bored. however i loved how they Did mention that only male deer have horns sooo… noko transbian 🦌🏳️‍⚧️?

yuri thoughts 🌸: the two protagonists have great yuri potential!! torako has already shown she’s a huge girl kisser and noko just keeps teasing her, which is a great dynamic imo. also torako’s va is hatsune miku’s voice provider, and we all know hatsune miku is transbian goddess so!

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: okay nvm i actually love this!!!!!! and the siscon character is such a caricature and parody of the siscon trope that i love her too (also she’s voiced by mafuyu project sekai uwu).

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: dropped lmao (gags got boring, i have seen too many similar shows)

VTuber Nandaga Haishin Kiri Wasuretara Densetsu ni Natteta

tags: comedy, otaku culture

thoughts on episode 1: once again maybe unpopular opinion but im not completely sold on this one. yes it’s fun, yes she’s unhinged, yes they’re all absolutely raging homosexuals BUT idk how to explain it but it feels very much male oriented. idk i think i feel this way bc it’s my personal pet peeve when otaku shows focus mostly on men as the intended audience (for example, when they showed her audience, all the viewers were men which like. they could have shown at least one woman who likes watching her videos yknow?). so anyway. at least it’s incredibly gay? and once again, love characters gettinf drunk lol. but idk i feel like this was made to ride the wave of hololive and get men on twitter to share funny clips idk. i like how they use actual vtuber avatars in certain scenes, and i get the vibe they’ll want to make these girls real vtubers, hence why we dont see what they actually look like but just their vtuber persona. will be checking out more ep but will drop if it gets too meh.

yuri thoughts 🌸: as mentioned, all the girls are RAGING homosexuals fr. asking about favorite lesbian porn scenarios to each other to possibly act them out. hello?!

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: again nvm, i like this one too now lmao tho i’d rank it last out of these 5 tbh. but it’s so unhinged and deranged that it’s a super fun watch

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: the wii fit -like episode was the last drop. burnt braincells i’ll never grow back. dropped byeee 0/10

#edited july 25 with ep 3 thoughts!!#i was gonna make this the other day but i was gonna check out dungeon no naka no hito but in the end i decided to skip that one for now #i think i wanna start doing this anime season for myself as a sort of yuri journal uwu 🌸#mayonaka punch #narenare #narenare cheer for you #senpai wa otokonoko #painoko #shikanoko nokonoko koshitantan #vtuber legend #na nare hana nare #yuri #himejoshi #VTuber Nandaga Haishin Kiri Wasuretara Densetsu ni Natteta #mine

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goldenbrowns · 24 hours ago

Text

somebody else || bucky barnes x reader || part one

proofread and edited by @d4nshyp3r ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

summary: on his 54th birthday, tony stark goes all out and chooses to take all of the avengers to one of his ridiculously many vacation houses, this one in hawaii. given that you're now seeing a guy, you choose to extend an invitation to him so you can spend these two weeks together, enjoying paradise. the only issue is how much bucky randomly despises this new guy, he considers him impossibly annoying, as well as your odd idea to take him on the vacation. after a few days, you notice buckys made it his mission to shoo the guy away...

authors note: im aware how much of a bully I made bucky out to be, but idc. also pls beware of cringy drunk bucky. idk if its obvious but "somebody else" by the 1975 was what loomed up this whole fic into existence.

ʚ "so I heard you found somebody else, and at first, I thought it was a lie." ʚ "but I hate to think about you with somebody else, our love has gone cold, you're intertwining your soul with somebody else"

word count: 10k (yeah...)

pairings: bucky barnes x afab!reader, reader x random guy.

warnings: making out, dirty talking, dry humping, drunk!bucky, cheating, alcohol consumption, bucky is a huge bully, swearing, implied sexual encounters, sexual themes discussed

part one — part two (unreleased)

If you've known Tony Stark for a while, you wouldn't be shocked to receive an invitation to his fifty-fourth birthday celebration. For you, regular birthdays are like Christmas for him; he goes all out. For context, last year he invited you —and maybe another 300 people— to the tower's rooftop, where he had Prefab Sprout and Hall & Oates perform. He still insists that wasn't even his best work. As if it were nothing, this year Tony is taking everyone out to his vacation house in Hawaii. Private jet, casual tickets, a beach house bigger than your entire block, and a DJ flown in from Europe —you know, casual.

The rest of the crew will also be there. Pretty much everyone who's ever saved the world at least once: Steve, Natasha, Sam, Bucky, and the list goes on. Honestly, it's like you're automatically on the guest list if you've ever been punched by an alien, a Hydra agent, or if you're just someone's plus one. And since Tony said you could bring whoever you wanted —his exact words being, "the more the merrier, as long as they’re not boring"— you figured… why not invite Mark? It’s a free trip to Hawaii, he’s cool, and honestly, it’ll be nice to have someone around who doesn’t treat saving the world like it's just another Tuesday.

You met Mark a while back, maybe two or three months ago, at a dive bar in Manhattan. You two clicked pretty quickly. You vividly remember dancing to at least three cheesy 90’s songs with him. Some of the night is a blur, sure, but you remember staying until maybe two in the morning before the bar closed. After that, disgustingly drunk, you shared a cigarette outside, and he asked for your number before walking away. Of course, the only thing you're a little nervous about now is not just the fact that you're bringing a goddamn accountant to casually meet the Avengers, but you also worry because your friends could be a little nosy; especially Sam and Steve who saw you as a little sister. Not to mention Wanda will probably hog him to know everything about how you met. Either way, it’s nothing serious between you and Mark. You haven't made anything official; you still don't even know what to call it... whatever it is you two have.

Anyways, you’re definitely not in any kind of panic. Nope, of course not. It's simply Hawaii. Ocean, sun, and, if Tony’s bartenders aren't paying close attention, maybe a few too many drinks to distract you from the chaos you willingly signed up for. Just a good time with old friends who also happen to be, you know, the most powerful heroes on Earth. Like you always say: casual.

At this point, you're just praying Mark doesn’t get overwhelmed and start asking for autographs. Or worse, that Bucky doesn’t pick this exact moment to be weird and broody about everything, and Thor decides to bring up your deepest, most humble moments, which he tends to do while drinking. Either way, you’re sticking to the plan: drink something fruity, sit somewhere sunny, swim a little, and... take a deep breath.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The flight to Hawaii is just another part of the whole Tony Stark experience — private jet, full amenities, and absolutely no lines at the airport. It's hard to care about the fact that you're flying in a plane big enough to fit a small city when you're sprawled out in a leather chair with a cocktail in hand. The crew’s doing their usual thing: Steve's reading a first edition of The Great Gatsby (not even trying to fit in anymore), Sam — although you can barely see him sitting at the back — is scrolling through his phone, watching memes at full volume, Peter has about three books spread out on his table while he hunches over his MacBook, cramming for a test he has tomorrow (because even though Tony sent a note to excuse him from high school, he still has to do online work), Thor is knocked out in his seat, jaw basically unhinged, drooling all over his blanket, and the birthday boy himself is up in the cockpit, already tipsy and arguing with the pilot to let him fly the plane.

"I bought the plane, slackjaw! And you're really not gonna let me fly it, you twerp?" he yells.

Bucky and a bunch of others are sitting at the back of the plane, so you can't exactly tell what he's up to, but somehow, you can feel his gaze boring into poor Mark’s head. You remember a few hours ago, when you and Mark were making your way to the access gateway, you could feel Bucky’s eyes following you from a few feet away. He was standing at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, looking... off. Not exactly angry, but definitely too focused. It's the kind of look he gets when he's calculating something in his head — probably sizing Mark up like he's some kind of threat, even though Mark was too busy clumsily adjusting his carry-on, kicking it down the runway like a stray soccer ball.

Bucky was staring at Mark, and you felt the weight of it. It wasn’t just a glance; it was a lingering look, one that didn’t quite settle, like he was trying to figure out what exactly was going on between you two. You don’t know if it was jealousy or something else, but it was heavy enough to make the air feel tighter than it should have. You could almost hear his thoughts: Who’s this guy? What’s his angle? What hole did this jerk crawl out of?

Whatever. You’re not about to let him get in the way of something new. You’d be pretty damn stupid if you did. That night in the tower so many months ago was just a drunken mistake and you didn’t give it much thought, so neither would he, right? You glance to your right and see Mark leaning against the window, sound asleep. You press a soft kiss to his cheek and run your fingers gently through his hair.

Unfortunately, the two cocktails you had earlier are starting to catch up with you. With a groan, you get up, looking for a bathroom. You approach Tony — who is very clearly drunk at this point — and ask, "Hey Tony, sorry, where's the bathroom?" He peeks at you from under his tinted glasses, swishes one finger around lazily in the air, and points toward the cockpit.

"Try the cockpit, there's a piece of shit flying the plane anyway," he slurs, running a hand through his hair.

Pepper, sitting right beside him, swats his hand away and gives you an apologetic look.

"Right down there, sweetie," she says kindly. "Just walk down the aisle."

As you head down the aisle, you finally get a full view of everyone — those at the front, and those tucked into the back. You near the bathrooms and you spot Bucky. He’s sitting with his arms crossed, headphones on, and his eyes closed. But you can tell he’s not really asleep; a second ago he was scratching at his beard and scrunching up his nose. Sam, sitting next to him, is still cracking up at memes on his phone.

When Sam catches a glimpse of you, he calls out, "Y/n, please look at this!"

You bend toward him to check it out — it’s a ridiculous cat compilation on Instagram reels, of course — and you laugh, telling him it’s funny. But as you go to straighten back up, you notice Bucky has cracked one eye open, squinting at you and tilting his head like he’s still trying to figure you out.

You probably linger there a second longer than you should, because he lifts an arm from his chest and points behind you.

"Bathrooms are back there, pretty sure," he says casually.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

It feels like entering a dream when you finally touch down in Hawaii and get off the plane. The first thing that hits you is the warm air, not too hot, just the ideal tropical wind. Tony's massive, stunning summer home, which looks like it belongs on a magazine cover, towers over you. The entire compound, perched on a cliff on the side of a mountain with amazing views of the ocean for miles in all directions, is more than just a beach house. The main living area has a pool that spills over into an oceanfront view, the kind of pool that looks like it belongs in a resort. Cushioned lounge chairs dot the edge of the deck, and there’s a bar tucked in the corner, ready for whatever drink anyone might need. It’s calm, almost serene, except for the occasional burst of laughter or someone screaming.

You drop your bags in your rooms, each of you claiming your space in the massive house. Bucky’s room is tucked away at the far end, quiet and away from the chaos. He’s quick to throw his stuff down and head out, as always.

Once you and Mark are all set, you meet up in the main area. Tony’s already got a drink in hand, cracking jokes. Steve is adjusting his bathing suit by the hem, and Natasha is looking through her beach bag, trying to find her sunglasses. Bucky, who is standing right behind Steve with Sam, also has a drink in hand, something unbelievably fruity for the incredibly macho man holding it. Bucky, Sam, and Steve are all belly laughing about something. Sam arched, holding on to his belly with one hand and with the other grabbing onto his knee, trying to catch his breath.

Either Steve or Tony says something about hurrying up, and everybody starts making their way to the buggies, which fit four people each. You all hurry to get in and speed off excited to see the beach, getting there in about five minutes.

The second you hit the beach, you drop into a lounge chair without thinking, sinking into it like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this. The sun’s still clinging to everything, warm and lazy. Natasha drops into the chair next to you, all cool indifference.

Without saying a word, she pulls a bottle of wine from under her beach bag and sets it between you with a grin. "Borrowed it from the bar," she says, way too proud of herself. She pulls two glasses from a bag like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You take one, and you toast silently, stretching your legs out toward the ocean, watching the waves roll in. Vision is somewhere in the sand, reading a book with Wanda in his arms. Peter, poor guy, is still spread out in the sand studying with a calculator in hand. And finally, Pepper is rubbing sunscreen on Tony's back so that he can take a dip.

Down near the water, Steve’s hurling a flying disc across the sand, Sam and Thor laughing while Bruce struggles to keep up, poor guy is basically tripping on his own feet every few throws. It’s chaotic, loud, familiar. Steve calls Mark over, waving him into the game, and you know that if there was someone who was going to make Mark feel at home, it was going to be him. Mark glances at you for permission, but you just lift your glass in a lazy cheers.

"Go ahead. I’ll survive," you tell him, smiling into your drink.

As he jogs off, almost instantly the lounge chair beside you dips under the weight of someone new. Bucky drops into it with a grunt, lounging back. He glances sideways at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Without looking at his face, you can make out the smugness in it. "Settling in real nice, huh?" he says, voice low and a little too close, like he’s in on some joke you haven’t caught yet. Clearly poking fun at poor Mark.

"Sorry?" you say, holding back a laugh. He bends his elbows and places both of his hands behind his head as he straightens his back and looks at the game in front of him.

"Oh, just you know... Uhm—" he points forward with one finger and swishes it around in the air, and snaps his fingers like he's looking for an answer.

"Mark?" you say, answering his unvoiced question.

"Yeah! That guy... Where did you find him? Was he on clearance or...?" he answers back with genuine confusion on his face, almost like he's worried.

"No, Bucky, I didn't find my boyfriend on clearance," you answer back to him with a smirk, obviously amused at his humor, but deep down feeling bad that those things are being said about him.

Bucky flips his head for a second to look over at you with squinting eyes from the sun. "Oh, boyfriend?! You guys made it official, did you? Looks like that's the first time you do that, last time you were pretty scared to do so..." he snarks back at you as he turns his head back to look at the game, clearly meaning to be as sassy as that sounded.

"Well, no, not yet... But that doesn't mean anything, I can see it happening any day now. He's just busy with work, and I believe him... I get it." you mutter, knowing how stupid that sounded and how much of a red flag he'd find that to be. But it's true, he's told you he hasn't asked you to be his girlfriend yet because of work and the things he has going on in his life. And that's okay, you guess... right?

Bucky scoffs and quickly snarks, "Oh yeah, real busy. Saving the world one spreadsheet at a time... I was really hoping he was better at relationships than he is at standing around awkwardly, and it really, really seems like he isn't, doll." As he says that, you can see him analyzing Mark's playing technique and standing position. Now, as you see this happening, you realize how clumsy he really is while grabbing the disc, how his knees buckle when landing back down after jumping, and how, after playing for 5 minutes, he's already sweating like a beast, as red as a man can be.

"I believe him, Buck, no need to make fun of him. I wouldn't wish for him to feel left out on this vacation. Besides, he's clearly having a good time, look at him playing with Steve and Sam." Your eyes flick back to him running around, which honestly just looks like he's throwing his limbs around in a circle...

"Yeah, he’s having the time of his life... bless his heart. Probably thinks he’s one of the Avengers now." He shoots you a sideways look, that tiny smirk tugging at his mouth. "Might have to get him a little cape or something. Make it official."

This finally makes you burst out in a belly laugh, even Nat, beside you, is holding in a laugh with her index finger pressed on her lips. You look back at Bucky, he's smirking while doing the exact same thing he was doing earlier, ogling and sizing up Mark.

Finally, obviously not being able to keep up with the stamina of a super soldier and the god of thunder, Mark comes back panting like a dog. He stands in front of Bucky and you, covering up the sun.

"Did you see that? I just played flying disc with Captain America, my coworker is not going to believe this." Bucky tilts his head, eyes narrowing playfully as he watches Mark catch his breath. He lets the silence stretch for a moment, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke fun.

Finally, he smirks, leaning back in his chair like he’s about to deliver the knockout punch. "Oh, yeah? Played frisbee with Cap and survived? That’s a pretty big deal, huh?" he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bet your coworker’s gonna love hearing about that. 'Hey, I spent the afternoon with a super soldier and a god, and still couldn’t catch a damn frisbee to save my life.'" Bucky glances over at you, raising an eyebrow like he's silently asking for permission to keep poking fun. Obviously, your mouth had fallen agape since Bucky started talking. Then, looking back at Mark, he shrugs with exaggerated nonchalance. "Maybe grab a souvenir, yeah? You know, something to really capture the ‘I’m just a regular guy in over his head’ vibe. Maybe a ‘Survived being a Civilian' t-shirt."

"Alright, Bucky, stand up, I'm pretty sure Sam's calling you. They're short for a teammate. Come on, get out of here," you say to him, pushing him off the lounge chair.

For a moment, Bucky and Mark come face to face, well, face to chest... Mark shifts uncomfortably, looking up, like he’s not sure if he should be awkward about it or just roll with it. Bucky, of course, notices immediately and shoots him a smirk.

"Didn’t know they were stacking ‘em so tall these days," he quips, immediately looking back at you to see your reaction, glancing down at Mark with that sly grin of his. He gives Mark a quick once-over, almost like he's sizing him up, before he glances back at you, voice low and almost amused, "Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be back before you can finish that drink."

You scoff, and Mark sits back down on the chair. He says something about how rude Bucky was, or was he asking what's up with him? To be honest, you don't really know; it's not like you were paying attention. You were shamefully watching Bucky run and bounce back over to the team at the beach. Almost like the scene was in slow motion, you saw him dap up Sam and send a teasing kiss to Steve. His muscles shifting like gears, shiny with sweat under the tropical sun, you heard him say from afar, "Alright, buckle up! Y/n sent the heavy cavalry this time, someone is gonna need a stretcher."

After this, still feeling like the whole scene was in slow motion, you caught him looking back at you while bunching up his swimming shorts at the top of his thighs, dangerously close to flashing everyone at the beach.

You try to act as though you missed that by rolling your eyes. Mark gives you an expression of confusion. He asks, half-laughing as if he believes you're going to reveal some secret about Bucky,"Is he always like that?"

You try to be casual about it, though, and just shrug. Clearly, you're not gonna tell him that the man who was absolutely ridiculing him was the guy last guy you fucked before meeting him; and who, for reasons unknown to you, was acting unusually jealous. Something completely out of the ordinary, considering he never had you. So there’s no reason for him to be.

You tap your fingers against the chair's armrest and respond, "Yeah, unfortunately," not really listening to what is being said. As if he were the star of some absurd show, Bucky has already returned with Sam and Steve. He jokes that he could have saved the world in less time than it takes Steve to toss a frisbee, and you can hear him laughing and being snarky.

Mark notices you watching, and you quickly glance away, but it’s too late. He catches on. "You know, it seems like he’s... trying to get a reaction out of you." He grins, but you just shake your head.

"Trust me, it’s just Bucky being Bucky. He does that with everyone," you explain, though you’re not entirely sure it’s a lie. The way he keeps looking over here — you’re not sure. It feels different, you're familiar with it, you’ve seen that look before, a long time ago. You recall seeing it that one night you guys spent together, but somehow he's found a way to make you question that which you were so certain about, but you’re not about to get into it now. Not in front of Mark.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

As you start gathering your things, the atmosphere shifts, a mix of exhaustion and excitement hanging in the air. Sam’s tossing his frisbee one last time with Steve, Thor’s trying (and failing) to teach Bruce how to actually throw it properly, and Natasha’s already scanning her phone, probably getting all the security details ready for tonight. You and Mark grab your stuff and start heading toward the buggies, but the moment you turn, you see Bucky leaning casually against one of the lounge chairs, his eyes flickering between the group and you.

He smirks, slow and deliberate, clearly savoring the moment. "You guys really gonna leave me to clean up all this mess? C'mon, I'm tired, too," he says, his voice low enough that it feels like he’s only speaking to you. There’s something about the way he stands there; his gaze stays locked on you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to make the next move.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing your bag and trying to look casual, but his presence is enough to make your pulse pick up. Every time he says something, it feels like he’s leaning in just a little closer. "You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up," you say.

He chuckles, his grin widening when he notices you’re the one answering back to him, as he pushes himself off the chair and walks toward you with his hands on his hips, his movements slow and controlled. "Only if you promise to catch me when I do, angel," he replies, his voice a little too smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. There’s that underlying something again...

Mark nudges you, a little too eager, clearly oblivious to the tension. "You coming, babe?" he asks, his voice casual, but his eyes wide, glancing between you and Bucky, waiting for a response.

Before you can even answer, Bucky cuts in, his voice dripping with a passive-aggressive sweetness that makes your skin prickle. "Oh, sure, let’s all wait for Mark to lead the way," he says, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. "I’m sure he’s the perfect choice. You wanna drive my buggie, buddy?" He pauses just long enough to look you over, his eyes taking their time with you before he smirks. He gets closer to you so that Mark, all the way back at the lounge chair, doesn't hear him. "I’m sure it’s charming... if you’re into that whole ‘average guy’ vibe. Just don't expect him to keep up with us." He glances back at Mark, then back to you, his voice lowering, teasing. "No offense, buddy," he adds, lifting a palm up in the air while keeping the other at his hips, as if asking for forgiveness, but it’s so loaded, you feel bad for Mark. You should've never invited him; you knew this was gonna happen.

He shrugs lazily, his tone soft and too damn confident. "Hey, I’m just saying. You can’t really compare... You know?" He glances at Mark again, but this time, his attention lingers just a little too long on you, his gaze shifting down to your bikini top, and he's obviously not admiring the stripes and designs on it. His voice dips into something more intimate. "But, whatever, if you’re cool with settling. Tell him not to trip over his own feet on the way there, yeah?"

You try not to react; he knows exactly what he’s doing. His words aren’t just mean and teasing—they’re digging at something deeper. Bucky’s always like this, pushing at the edges, pulling at invisible strings, and you can’t figure out if he’s just playing or if he really means every word.

Mark gives you a quick glance, a little uncomfortable, and you can’t blame him. You shake your head to clear the tension that Bucky’s left hanging in the air. "Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming. Just give me a second," you say.

Bucky watches you, his smirk growing like he just got some grand idea, like he knows he’s got the upper hand. "Take all the time you need, doll," he calls out with a wink as you turn toward the buggies. His voice is a whisper now, so damn close, like it’s meant for only you. "Just don’t take too long, yeah?"

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

By the time you make it back to the compound, the whole place feels completely different from when you left. Earlier, it was this easy, lazy beach vibe — now, it’s chaos in motion, the sunrays dissipating, the smell of sea salt lingering in the air. Everything seems almost nostalgic, like this could be the rest of your life, just beach hopping and endless tan lines. All around, there are staff that Tony must have flown in from who-knows-where who are rushing around, clipping up strings of lights, adjusting floral arrangements, setting up a red carpet on the entrance, and testing sound systems. It smells faintly of washed clothes, cologne, and faint stress. And champagne. Always champagne.

Mark wanders off almost immediately, following one of the staff members who's gesturing him toward his room, where someone probably left suits hanging neatly pressed and ready. He gives you a quick, wide-eyed smile — a silent help — before disappearing down the hall. You can't help but chuckle a little to yourself. He’s trying. He really is, it's so cute that he is, he's not meant for all of this.

You hang back for a second, pretending to check your phone, when really, you’re just... delaying. Taking it in. The night ahead feels electric in a way. And probably just mentally preparing yourself for the cosmic hangover you're gonna wake up with tomorrow, already deactivating any kind of alarm on your phone.

That’s when Bucky falls into step beside you with his beachbag in hand, so quietly you don’t even notice until he’s matching your pace. You were too distracted watching poor Pepper orchestrate the whole thing from afar, telling all the staff how to hang the decorations and which setting for the lights to use.

“You better not keep him waiting too long,” he says casually, nodding down the hallway where Mark disappeared. There’s a slyness to his voice that makes your skin prickle. “Wouldn’t want poor lover boy getting lost before the big night,” he says with a small pout and scrunched eyebrows, clearly trying to be as sarcastic as he can.

You toss him a glare over your shoulder. “He’s not lost. He’s probably just... figuring out where everything is. Just like any normal person here, I don't blame him.”

Bucky chuckles under his breath, a low, rough sound. “Mm. Cute. Hope he’s got a map. Or a damn survival guide.” He leans in a little, close enough that you catch the mint he's chewing and whatever soap he uses, all warm and clean and unfair. His voice drops, low and teasing, “Poor guy’s about to get eaten alive tonight." As much as you hate hearing that, it might be true.

You pass through the archway leading to the guest rooms, and he slows, letting his knuckles casually brush against your hand for half a second — like it’s an accident. You feel it more than anything. Sparks running up your arm.

"You sure you're up for babysitting him all night?" Bucky says, voice like a dare now. "Could always come swim with the big sharks instead, maybe get a drink, a shot or two. You know how much Sam loves those. Tell me that doesn't sound like your kind of fun, angel."

You turn sharply, about to shoot something back at him, but just then Sam’s voice echoes down the hall, yelling something about how everyone needed to be ready in twenty minutes or Tony was gonna start sending search-and-rescue teams after us. You chuckle.

Bucky smirks like he planned the interruption, like he knows he’s in your head now. He nudges you lightly with his shoulder before peeling off toward his room, sending an index finger into the air and calling over his shoulder without turning around:

“Don’t be late, doll.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, still feeling the ghost of his knuckles against your skin, heart beating a little too fast for someone who’s supposed to be cool and unbothered.

You finally make it into your own room, closing the door behind you and letting out a long, shaky breath. You have twenty minutes to pull yourself together, look like you belong at a billionaire’s party, and — apparently — survive whatever game Bucky Barnes thinks he’s playing tonight. You hear Mark scrambling in the bathroom, clearly having trouble doing something, god knows what...

"You need help in there, Mark?" you say genuinely trying to help him, and well, trying to empty that bathroom to get ready. "Nope! I'm fine, I'm just peachy!" he says as he comes out of the bathroom, slamming the door. He looks surprisingly put together for someone who started getting ready ten minutes ago.

"They hung your dress right there, babe," he says, pointing over at the huge dresser on the far right wall of the room. Your dress was hanging with a layer of clear plastic over it to protect it. You reach for it and peel the plastic off. Right after taking it, you set it on the bed and headed for the bathroom to put on makeup. About ten minutes later, after you finished, you were quick to put it on and look in the mirror. As you looked in the mirror, you could see Mark struggling in the background to put on his shoes, feet up in the bed, kicking them up relentlessly.

The dress cascaded in a river of red silk, clinging to your figure with a natural grace. Thin, delicate straps rested almost imperceptibly on your shoulders, while a soft draped neckline revealed your neck and collarbones, just covering your torso over the beginning of your breasts. Ethereal panels of sheer fabric floated from your arms. The fabric caught the light with a liquid sheen, making you look pulled straight out from a vampire tale.

Mark finally looks up from lacing his shoes, his eyes dragging up and down the dress. He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head a little. "Wow," he says, almost like he can't help himself. "You look like... I don’t know, like you walked straight out of, like, the Middle Ages or something."

You blink at him through the mirror.

He catches your expression and rushes to tack on, "I mean, it’s cool. Dramatic, y’know? Not what I expected, but hey, if you’re feeling it..." He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, like it didn’t just sit weirdly heavy in the room.

You smooth your hands down the silk of the dress, letting the fabric shimmer under the lights, trying to find the beauty in the dress while also trying not to let his words cling to you the way his voice did. Did you really look that odd? You started considering asking the team or the staff for a new dress.

Behind you, Mark grins, completely oblivious. "I should’ve dressed up more, huh?" he jokes half-heartedly, plucking at the collar of his wrinkled shirt. "You're gonna make me look like I picked you up from a Ren fair." What the fuck?

At that moment, as you were about to text Nat for a spare dress or something, a sharp knock sounds at the door — and Bucky’s familiar voice cuts in, rough and teasing: "You two lovebirds dead in there, or is Mark still fixing his hair?"

A real smile breaks across your face for the first time in minutes. Thank god. Hearing yourself think this was absolutely disheartening, but sadly, you were right. You both pick up the rest of your things, you grab your bag, and take a final look at your hair. You hear Mark walking out of the door, and the second he did that you were expecting some comment out of Bucky's mouth, and just like clockwork: "Look who it is, Mark! The lady of the hour..."

Bucky pokes his head in the room and his gaze falls on you the moment Mark steps out, and a slow, appreciative smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Well, well," he drawls, his voice warm with that signature charm that always sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes trail over you, not in a rush, but with a deliberate, almost possessive pace. "Doll, you’re going to need a spotlight to match that look."

Mark’s shoulders stiffen, but Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge him as he steps closer, his gaze now fully on you. "You look... stunning," Bucky adds softly, his tone almost too intimate for the moment. “Like you just walked out of some dream." His eyes linger on the way the dress hugs your body, before he lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Did you make that choice for tonight? Because, believe me, it’s working." Maybe the dress isn't so bad, maybe Mark was wrong and you look very pretty.

Mark shifts uncomfortably beside you, but Bucky doesn’t break his gaze. His smile widens just a little, and he raises a brow, enjoying the effect he's having.

You can see the muscle in Mark’s jaw twitch as he tries to keep his cool. "You really need to stop making everything about you, Bucky," Mark snaps, his words laced with frustration, though it's clear he's trying to hold it back. "And you, y/n, not everything has to be a damn show, dress down for once. You look like they pulled you out of Nosferatu."

Bucky shifts and focuses back on Mark, and his smirk turns into something sharper, more dangerous. "No offense, buddy, but I don’t think you’re gonna impress anyone in that sad excuse for a suit. But, hey, at least you’re trying."

Mark’s fists clench, and he visibly seethes, trying to stay composed. But Bucky just looks at him, unbothered, watching with almost cruel amusement.

Mark spits back, "Yeah, well, I’m not into the whole ‘look at me’ thing, I'm not the one looking like a clown."

Bucky steps even closer, his voice dropping low, his tone almost dangerously smooth. "Look at you, pretending to be something you’re not," he says, letting the words cut deep. "Neither she nor I need to prove anything to anyone. But you, on the other hand… you’re still playing catch-up."

Mark starts breathing faster and clutching at his suit, and it seems like at some point he wasn't able to resist it anymore and decides to storm off, like a child who didn't get a toy.

Bucky decides to take advantage of this time you have alone and he starts grazing the side of your arm as he steps even closer, his presence overwhelming. His fingers linger, tracing over the fabric of your dress as though he can’t resist the temptation. You can see in his face some kind of expression. It's weird, but it's like the sole reason he touches the dress is to feel the curve of your waist, like proving to himself that he can't really penetrate the dress with his hands and finally touch you. He’s slow, and you feel the heat rising in you, your breath catching. It’s like he’s savoring the closeness, like he’s enjoying every second of this.

“You’re not like him, you know,” Bucky murmurs, his voice almost a whisper now, his lips close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But,” his eyes darken as they flicker down your body, and his voice turns a little lower, more sensual, “you’re still the only one in the room I’m interested in proving something to. You've always been that person. I know we don’t acknowledge what happened between us last year, but still, every time I see you, I try to prove to you I'm as funny as when you left me, exactly as gentle as you wanted me to be back then, and obviously, just as disposed to lift that little satin dress, getting on my knees and letting you use me right here in this corridor, doll I'm just as willing to give myself up as I was when you left..." he says, so close to your ear, rubbing impossibly small circles on the back of your neck. You've never heard him breathing so heavily, never in your life have you seen that look in his eyes, he's so needy.

"Buck- no, I can't do that. Me and Mark fought, that doesn't mean we're over. It would still be cheating, and you know how against that I am..." you say to him, pushing him off gently.

The tension still lingers in the air, but you can’t afford to stay in this headspace any longer. The party’s starting, and you can’t just sit here, lost in the chaos of your own thoughts. The guests are starting to trickle in, the bass from the music outside beginning to thrum through the walls, and the sound of laughter and conversation fills the hallway.

You take a steadying breath, but before you can convince yourself to leave, Bucky stands there, still watching you, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“James,” you murmur, your tone more firm now, trying to break through the haze of what just happened. “We’re going. You’re coming with me. Now.”

He looks almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to snap out of it this quickly, but then the smirk returns, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “You sure you can handle me at this party, doll?” he teases, stepping closer again, but not crossing the line, as if he’s giving you the chance to take charge.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though there’s a smirk on your face now too. “Oh please, it’s Tony Stark’s birthday. We both know I can handle whatever’s coming.”

As you make your way into the party, Bucky’s not exactly helping you focus. He's got a hand resting on your hip, but he's not letting it rest there proudly; he's got it hidden almost like he knows now what's wrong and what's right. He’s too close, too confident, and his words come with that familiar teasing edge.

“You know,” he starts, voice low enough that only you can hear, “this is the part where you let me steal the spotlight. I mean, come on, gorgeous. Not when I’m dressed like this.” He flashes you a grin, giving a mock twirl in the middle of the room, clearly enjoying the attention as people turn their heads to look.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile creeping up. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though you’re finding it hard to be mad at him. He’s right. He does look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

“Insufferable? Maybe.” His eyes flicker over to Mark, who’s still trying to seem calm, but you can practically see the tension in his shoulders. He's talking up some chick you recognize, she's a writer for some newspaper, you really can’t recall.

You try not to react, but Bucky’s got this way of making you aware of everything, especially him.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” he continues, his grin turning a little sly, “you chose this guy, not me. But if you ever want a real upgrade, you know where to find me.”

The comment stings in that way that makes your heart race. You shouldn’t even let it affect you, but every time he opens his mouth, it’s like he knows exactly what to say.

You glance over at Mark, who’s now talking to Tony, obviously trying to make connections, but his eyes flicker back to you. And Bucky—of course—catches it, smirking again.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, barely louder than a whisper. “Mark’s probably wishing he could just vanish into thin air right now. Poor guy’s probably wondering if I’m going to make a move on you in front of everyone.”

You shoot him a sharp look, but Bucky just leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he lowers his voice even more.

He then leans into your ear and whispers, “But I’m not like that, doll. I play my cards right.” His words are teasing, but there’s something deeper behind them, something that makes it hard for you to breathe. “I’ll wait until it’s just us. No one needs to see how much I want you, at least not yet. Maybe a couple of shots deep into the night and I’ll lose all the composure you made me conjure up in that damn corridor.”

And just like that, he pulls away, walking confidently into the crowd, like he knows exactly what effect he’s had on you. You watch him for a second, heart pounding, before you force yourself to refocus. Obviously, after this, you start looking for Natasha and the girls.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The night has dragged on, the air thick with laughter, the dim glow of party lights painting everything in a hazy, intoxicating glow, all the lights becoming blurry from what you've drank. Everything seems to be moving slower; the strobing lights a watercolor blur in your eyes.

You find yourself nestled with Natasha, Maria Hill, Wanda, and a few others, a bottle of vodka flowing dangerously freely as you all chat and laugh like old friends. The atmosphere is light and carefree, and somehow, you manage to avoid talking about anything too deep, instead just poking fun at each other. It's the kind of fun that only happens when everyone’s tipsy enough to let go of their usual barriers.

At some point, the conversation shifts, and the girls get curious, their eyes glinting with mischief as they turn to you.

“So,” Natasha smirks, tilting her glass with a teasing expression as she changes her sitting position completely to tilt in your direction, “what’s going on with you and Mark? And, well — Bucky... I mean, this is a whole situation, huh?”

Maria raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “Is it just me, or do they seem like they’re both trying to outdo each other? You’ve got the perfect little love triangle brewing over here. Me, personally, I've dreamed about this.”

Wanda laughs softly, clearly amused. “No one’s ever been this conflicted over a guy before, right? You’re so calm about it, though. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off the playful teasing, but it’s getting harder with each round of laughter from the girls. The truth is, you don’t know how you feel about any of it—between Mark’s constant need for reassurance and Bucky’s complicated way of showing interest, you’re caught in a whirlwind of confusion.

Before you can answer, the conversation naturally shifts as the girls move on to something else, but they leave you with a lingering feeling of being caught. You need a break from all of it.

You find yourself wandering back over to Steve, Thor, and Sam’s group, who are now deep in their own state of tipsy camaraderie. Steve and Thor are practically slurring, which is a very rare sight, but since Thor brought his very own Asgardian mead, you’re about to see things you'll never unsee. Their laughter is loud and infectious, as Sam watches with an amused expression. He’s more sober than the other two, but it’s clear he’s starting to feel the effects.

As you settle into the conversation, Sam leans in, clearly eager to share some gossip.

“You know,” Sam says with a sly grin, his eyes shifting toward where Bucky was last seen, “Bucky’s tipsy as hell tonight. Earlier, he was going off about you, y/n—talking about how no one can hold a candle to you.” Sam laughs, his voice dropping a little lower. “Said you were the only one that could actually handle him.”

You glance around, half-expecting Bucky to pop up and say something, but Sam’s right. Bucky had disappeared a few minutes ago, and you haven’t seen him since.

Steve, grinning widely, throws his arm around Thor. “You know, Bucky can’t even try to hide that kind of thing when he’s drunk. And as for Mark,” Steve pauses dramatically, “he’s too busy trying to talk up some chick from the newspaper to even notice what’s going on. I saw them worryingly close a few minutes ago, sitting on that very couch. I'm pretty sure they stood up, I haven't seen them since. Maybe worry a little about that, y/n.”

Thor lets out a booming laugh, clearly having no concept of personal volume as he sloshes his mead around, completely unaffected by the alcohol. “Ah! Yes! Mark! So focused on trying to impress some small insipid human woman while Bucky... well, Bucky is a mighty warrior who knows what’s really important!” Thor gestures wildly, spilling some of his drink, but not caring in the slightest. “Mark has the charm of a goat! Bucky, though—ah, Bucky has the power of a storm!”

You barely suppress a laugh at that, wondering if Thor realizes he just made Bucky sound like a romantic hero in some cheesy novel.

Sam chuckles, shaking his head at Thor’s drunken rambling. “Yeah, man, I get it. Thor’s a little extra, but he’s not wrong. Honestly, Bucky’s got more of that raw attraction than anyone else. He was really going on about you, though.” Sam looks over at you with a knowing smile. “He was all like, ‘I don’t know why she’s wasting her time with him, she deserves someone who knows what’s worth fighting for.’”

You bite your lip, a mix of feelings surging in you. Part of you feels a weird rush of warmth hearing that, but the other part feels tangled up in confusion.

“Mark’s not like that, and that chick he's trying to get with is gonna realize that any second now,” Steve adds, giggling at his own remark, still grinning. “But you know what? He can’t even see what’s in front of him.” He pats your back. “Don’t let him hold you back. You’re not stuck with anyone.”

Before you can answer, Thor slurs out another line, “Ah! No one will ever be as strong as Bucky! Not even me! I am only strong at fighting battles! But Bucky, he is strong at heart, yes?” He takes a long swig of mead, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice.

Just as you're trying to sort through all the messy thoughts running through your head, the music shifts, and the lights dim just a little. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a microphone crackling cuts through the air. Your head turns instinctively toward the source, and there, standing in front of the makeshift stage set up near the far corner of the compound’s great hall, is none other than Bucky Barnes.

Oh. my. God.

Bucky steps up to the mic, his stance a little unsteady, clearly very drunk, but his confidence unwavering. You can't look at this. This is so bad. He looks out into the crowd, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he taps the microphone twice, testing it. The room quiets for a second, and he takes a deep breath, his eyes landing on you as the opening chords of “Jessie’s Girl” begin to play.

You can't help but think how absolutely cringy and cheesy this all is. He's going to regret this so much tomorrow. Whatever he's doing now is not something regular Bucky would do. But just for the fun of it you shut up and enjoy this one in a lifetime show.

And with that, he launches into the first verse, and you already feel the weight of the room shift. “Jessie is a friend,” he sings, his voice deep, lingering over each word. You can hear people in the crowd start to whistle and cheer. His gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, making the song feel too personal, too intimate. “Yeah, I know he’s been a good friend of mine…”

He mouths a very exaggerated "no" and shakes his head from side to side, stupidly drunk. He had to have drunk from Thor’s mead, cause you've never seen him so drunk... Everyone seems to be having fun. They're all cheering and clapping on beat with him.

The chorus hits, and Bucky leans into the mic, his voice a little rougher, the voice of a man who's been screaming all night and had the grandiose idea of doing karaoke. “I wish that I had Jessie’s girl,” he sings, his voice low and dripping with desire as he holds your gaze. “Where can I find a woman like that?” At this point, everyone seems to be okay with the song of choice. Even Thor, with his drink still in hand, is swaying his arms from side to side. Sam, on the other hand, has this knowing glint in his eyes, like he's saying " told ya."

Bucky moves a little closer to the mic with half-hooded eyes, his body swaying lazily with the beat, and his words come out with an almost teasing sensuality, slurred but sensual, sure. “I play along with the charade, there doesn’t seem to be a reason to change,” he croons, lowering his voice even more, every word like a caress. “'Cause she's watching him with those eyes, and she's loving him with that body, I just know it, and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night.” He says this with a face of genuine disgust in an attempt of being theatrical, throwing his hand around like he’s mocking you or Mark.

He keeps singing and embarrassing himself onstage for a few moments more till the song ends. He bows clumsily to the public and steps off the stage with a confident swagger, making his way toward you, not bothering to stop as he gets right into your personal space. Everyone claps and cheers at him, and a few pictures of him are taken standing off the stage. You could already see the headlines tomorrow...

“Don’t act like you didn’t love that,” he says out of breath, voice low and sultry. He places a hand just barely on your lower back, just enough to send heat rushing through you. “I told you earlier that a few shots and apparently a drink of Thor’s mead would make me lose all my composure.”

"Actually, that little show you decided to throw was disgustingly cheesy. Promise me you'll never do that again, yeah?" Bucky just snorts at your comment and ignores it completely, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. That was just a warm-up.” He leans in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re gonna want to hear the rest of what I’ve got planned for you tonight.”

The music resumes in the background, and everyone goes back to dancing. Bucky grabs your hand and starts leading you somewhere. Somewhere you can hear Thor scream like a damn air raid siren, “Strong like a storm, Bucky! Yes!” Right after him, you hear Steve and Sam woohooing and whistling.

As you walk down the corridor beside Bucky, the weight of your decision starts to settle in, and despite the butterflies in your stomach, you can’t help but feel a sense of clarity. Everyone’s been right — Mark’s off with some random girl from the newspaper, and you’ve spent too long pretending this was something it wasn’t. Your chest tightens as you finally let yourself admit that you deserve more than the half-hearted games you’ve been playing.

You glance at Bucky, who’s smirking, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and triumph, like he’s been waiting for this moment. You try not to let him get under your skin, but it's getting harder.

“Well, look at that,” Bucky’s voice cuts through your thoughts, dripping with mock sweetness. “Finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough.”

You roll your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, doll.” His voice drops lower, teasing and dangerous, as he leans in slightly. “I mean, come on. You really thought that he was your guy? That little puppy act? Please.” Bucky lets out a dry laugh, clearly enjoying himself. “You deserve better than that. You’ve always deserved better.”

You shake your head, walking a little faster to distance yourself from his teasing, but it doesn’t work. Bucky’s stride matches yours effortlessly.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Sure am, Doll,” he replies, his voice lowering again, almost a whisper now. “You think you’re fooling anyone? I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. How you flutter your little lashes somewhere else when you notice I'm looking right back at you. You think I can't tell what you're thinking about, but to be real, most of the time you're such a nasty girl! Shame on you... Don’t think for one second I haven’t noticed.”

You stop walking, my hand gripping the doorframe of the room we’re passing. His words hit harder than they should, but you keep your voice steady. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Bucky steps closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You keep saying that, but you know it’s not true. You and me? We were always gonna happen.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, his eyes flickering over your body with a slow, deliberate gaze. “Always.”

You feel your pulse quicken, but before you can respond, you pass your room. The noises coming from inside are unmistakable—low moans, muffled laughter, the sound of shifting sheets. You freeze, a sickening realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.

It’s Mark. And the girl.

Bucky notices you stop, and for a moment, he tilts his head curiously. “What’s wrong?” His voice is softer now, though the teasing tone never fully disappears. You don’t respond, your mind reeling as you hear the sounds getting louder. Mark and some random girl... Right behind that door.

Bucky’s face shifts, and for a second, he can't believe that's really happening. When he catches the look on your face. “Oh,” he murmurs, his voice more compassionate now. “Didn’t expect that, huh?” He leans closer to me. “I told you he wasn’t worth it. What man in their right mind would pass up on you, huh?”

You shake your head, feeling frustrated. “I—” You don’t even know what to say. Bucky watches you, almost like he sobered up in half a second. “See? You’re so much better than this; you don't need to endure this sort of thing. Why waste your time on someone like him?”

And at this moment, you realized how right everyone is. You remember when you ended your fling with Bucky, you thought to yourself, how you'd never find someone like him ever again. You were never used to attention or feeling loved your whole life, but Bucky was the first to ever make you feel that way. And the moment you stopped feeling that sweet, tender embrace, you went out looking for it again, somewhere, anywhere. And when you found something minimally similar, you went with it. Mark and you have nothing in common. You don't know why you convinced yourself to think that. Bucky's right, he and you were always meant to happen.

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” he says, his voice shifting from teasing to something more commanding. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. There's a whole party waiting outside, remember?”

You freak out the moment you process his words, "What? No! It's fine, I'm fine. I want to do this, please!" You grab his hand to stop him from walking back, completely sure of what you just said.

"Are you sure? I've been a pain in the ass about this the entire night, but that was just me being a jerk. I want to know you genuinely want this," He whispers so gently, as he holds your face in between his hands, almost encompassing your entire head. "I wouldn't like to mess this up," he said, punctuating the sentence with a drunken hiccup.

"Yes, Bucky. I want it so bad..." You say.

His whole demeanor changes, "Mhm? So bad? I have no other choice but to comply, do I? Let's get you to bed. I have a few things planned for you. Been thinking the whole night what I would do with you if I ever got my hands on you again, " He begins as he leads you to his room, a little far from the rest.

While still leading you by the hand, he continues, he clumsily trips over for a second but continues to walk forward. "Had a hard on the entire night, doll. Fuck- just before the karaoke I went into the bathroom and rubbed one off, like some teenager with a crush. Came all over the sink thinking about you, baby." As he finishes saying this with a low grunt, you notice you make one final lazy turn, and you get to his room. You're breathing faster than ever, almost like you're gonna be sick. This only ever happened to you when you were with him; You never went out of breath like this with anyone else.

Bucky opens the door, and not even a second after, he leads you through, and he's already kissing you. Slamming himself against your body and keeping balance as best as he can, holding your head between his hands, like he's almost leading you into the kiss, showing you exactly how he wanted it, like he was the one in need. It was sloppy and messy, his tongue licking its way into your mouth like he was in heat. After a while, he starts kissing the right corner of your mouth and starts making his way to your jawline, near the ear. Every peck accompanied with its own little whiny "Hmm fuck", and "Baby..." As he licks and kisses your neck, clearly making sure to leave a mark, he snakes his hands down to the back of your dress, getting a handful of your ass. With his hands almost tearing at the dress with the force he's holding on to you, he starts grinding you against his hard-on. "Can you feel me, baby? Hm? Can ya' feel how hard I am for you? You have me wrapped around your finger, doll. It's so dangerous."

As much as you're enjoying this, you can't help but think about what Mark did to you; you're not even sad because you lost him. You're just seething with anger. How dare he? Bucky, as he pulled back to look at your face once again, caught something in your face that made his stomach twist. You were still smiling, still reaching for him, but your eyes were glassy in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Bucky froze, reaching over to you, cupping your cheek gently. "Hey," he murmured, voice low and careful. "Talk to me, doll."

She tried to wave it off, but the crack in her voice gave her away. "I'm fine, Bucky. Really."

He shook his head, pressing his forehead to yours, grounding them both. "No, you're not. I know that look. I’ve worn that look. I know what you're thinking, and you know what? It's fine, angel."

"I just… I thought I could get it right with this one guy," you whisper, voice trembling despite your best efforts. "I've never even dared to stay before. I finally let myself believe it could work, and the second I do, this happens?"

"Listen to me, doll," he says softly against your hair. "You didn’t mess anything up. You gave someone a chance because you’ve got a good heart, and that's never a mistake. Him messing it up? That’s on him. Not you."

You tried to shake your head, tried to smile like it was nothing, but Bucky just shushed you gently, cradling your face in his hands like you were something precious, something about to break. "You’re allowed to hurt. Hell, after what that asshole pulled, I'd be surprised if you didn’t. You don’t gotta rush it just 'cause I’m here," he said, his voice slurring a little but still clear in meaning. "I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m gonna take care of you. Even if it’s just holding you tonight." He gently lays the bunched-up fabric at your thighs back down to your ankles.

Bucky kissed the top of her head and chuckled softly. "Besides," he murmured, "kinda bein’ nice for once. Don’t tell anyone, though, ruins my whole tough guy rep."

He finally laid you down softly on the mattress, making sure to place enough pillows under your head. "You're my favorite girl, you know that?" he slurred slightly, brushing his nose against your forehead. Trying to grab the edge of the blanket from under the pillows, "No one else even comes close." He says. Finally, you felt his whole weight bounce on the mattress. And just before you could answer back to him, you felt him go slack.

"Bucky?" you whispered, nudging his shoulder. Nothing. Not even a grunt. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly, half exasperated, half endeared.

"What a menace."

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ieatstarsforaliving · 1 year ago

Text

The Set-Up for Chapter 4 (3)

Summary: Hazel is really bad at lying. Especially to you.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of violence and death, I don't know what else honestly it's like 2 AM

Word Count: 4244

Note: I know it's been a while, my bad- turns out this whole university thing actually needs my time and effort to pass or something idk. Anyways, this chapter is lowkey kind of boring cause it's the set-up for the fun upcoming action-filled bloody chapters so just bear with me. But since I was gone for a while this is extra long... at least for me. Next fic is chapter 2 of The Grief We're Given so enjoy the lighthearted fic for now... also am lazy so this is unedited LMAO so it might be bad idc <3

“(Y/N), I know this may come off as a shock, but I love you too much to hide it from you anymore. I’m actually… the Spider-Woman!”

PJ dramatically pulled off the red mask from her face, striking a pose, earning a laugh from Hazel.

The trio were putting away the equipment they used for the Fight club after all the other members had left the gym— and by that it meant Josie and Hazel were putting away equipments while PJ thought it was a fun idea to dig through Hazel’s backpack to pull out her Spider-Woman mask, put it on, and start doing cartwheels and other nonsense around the gym floor.

“Okay, why don’t you actually help us clean up, PJ,” Josie complained, folding up the floor mats, “Instead of blowing Hazel’s cover?”

“Fine,” PJ rolled her eyes before throwing the mask back to Hazel, who caught it reflexively just as it was about to hit her face. “But even if anyone saw me with the mask, it’s not like they would believe any of us losers could possibly be the amazing Spider-Woman.”

PJ threw a playful grin at Hazel who folded the mask and hid it in her backpack. PJ had been begging her to reveal her superhero identity for a while, saying that it would raise all of their social levels right to the top. Josie, in reverse, begged Hazel not to reveal her identity, especially given the risks involved.

“But what if you just told (Y/N)? Then, she’ll fall in love with you, then automatically she’ll hang out with us more, and by association she’ll bring Isabel and Brittany with her!” PJ argued, still unwilling to drop the topic.

“Yeah, and then the next villain that wants to kill Hazel will take the people she loves as hostage,” Josie warned. “In fact– I know we’ve been doing the self-defense club for a while and it’s been going pretty well so far, but Hazel has exposed herself way too much.”

PJ groaned, indicating her impatience with Josie’s cautious approach. “Okay what part of this is too much? All Hazel’s doing is lightly punching and kicking a bunch of girls.”

“Was it the backflip?” Hazel chimed in.

“Yes, it was the backflip!” Josie blurted. “And we can’t keep saying ‘there’s all sorts of people who teach you stuff in juvie’ as an excuse anymore.”

“But the club is working!” PJ insisted, flailing her arms towards the gym. “Girls are actually acknowledging us in the hallways, I’ve gotten 3 high fives just this afternoon, and girls– the hot ones know our names. And also Female solidarity and whatever. The club is working!”

“I know. I feel like if we keep it up, you guys might actually be able to take down some crime in the area.”

“No, if we keep it up we can put our fingers inside of each other, grow up, Hazel.”

Josie crossed her arms. “Whatever. It’s your call.”

“I do feel like people are liking more than just the hitting and the tackling part of the club.”

The club had moved onto catfights on the gym floor, and it was no secret to Hazel that she always looked forward to these training sessions, particularly when it came to her interactions with you. All the punching, kicking, and rolling around the floor was more than what Hazel believed she deserved, but she couldn’t help but crave a deeper connection with you. And the weekly lunch meetings to make the ‘women murdered in history’ project weren’t exactly enough to get to know each other.

PJ shrugged. “Yeah, I know, we’re empowering them. Duh.”

“No, I mean, seriously, to have a safe space like this, it means a lot to people, and I think if we took some time to spend a meeting and actually get to know these girls, like, it would be really important instead of just…” Hazel pictured the time you were on top of her, pinning her down with your feeble strength, bodies pressed close– so close– as you grappled each other on the floor, listening to the chants and cheers of the girls circling around. Her voice trailed off. “...sweating on them.”

PJ and Josie paused, then looked at each other with an incredulous smile.

“Hazel, that is… genuinely a brilliant idea.”

“I love talking about my trauma.”

Hazel squinted. “That’s not really–”

“-I literally jack off after every single therapy session. It just makes girls weirdly horny.”

Josie shook her head. “Don’t say ‘girls’. It’s just you.”

“Okay!” Hazel interrupted, fearing someone walking in midst of the conversation that turned weird thanks to PJ, as always. “I’ll just email the group about our next meeting.”

You walked into the gym with an excited grin. Fight club was the one thing you looked forward to in school nowadays— it was the only place you felt truly safe and comfortable, with only girl members (minus Mr. G, but he was an ally) who cheered you on with every weak punch that you threw.

Hazel noticed you walking in and waved to you, and you noticed that the format of the club had changed today. Everyone was sitting in a circle, like one of those sharing sessions in kindergarten times. You joined the circle in between Krystal and Hazel, who grinned like an idiot when you sat beside her.

“What’s going on?” You whispered to her, but Josie answered your question.

“So, we know that this club has been a place where we can feel empowered physically, but we also thought it could be a safe space and a place where we can open up and talk about our feelings.”

You nodded along as the girls began to talk about themselves— Sylvie with her stepdad, Stella with her stalker, and Brittany with her jewelry business— and you realized that although you had been fighting each other for a while, you never knew that much about the girls. You listened tentatively to each of their stories, but to your honesty, you were quite distracted by your project partner, who kept opening her mouth, then closed them continuously. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to open up. Your curiosity piqued, and when your eyes met with her’s, you encouraged her with a supportive look.

Hazel smiled at your aid. She didn’t really know how to talk about the biggest secret that she held about her superpower, but your expression was so supporting– too supporting, that she found herself speaking out.

“Well, ever since…” Hazel began, her mind racing to find the right words.

I’ve been bitten by a radioactive spider,

“...My parent’s divorce,”

I’ve been doing this, like, superhero stuff after school. I don’t even know if I’m doing this right, you know?

“My mom’s been doing this, like, mid-life crisis. I don’t know how that’s sitting with me, you know?”

And it’s just me swinging through buildings and beating criminals up and handing them over to the police who hate me because I’m a faceless vigilante but the entire neighborhood depends on me because some of these criminals are genuinely insane. I’ve broken bones, I’ve fallen through roofs, I got impaled once, that was fun— and it just feels so incredibly amazing but so burdening, all the same time.

“And it's been really really dark.”

She took a glance at you, who was nodding through her words, returning her gaze with tender understanding.

“This has just been really meaningful to me to, like, get to know some new people-”

(Y/N).

“-Who actually wants to, like, get to know me.”

You felt a surge of empathy for Hazel. You could hear the vulnerability shining through her words— it must have been hard to find good friends after experiencing such hardship. You couldn’t help but come to admire her even more.

You raised your hand. “And I just wanted to say that I think it’s very hard to find a good and safe community in school for girls, and I’m really grateful to Hazel for founding this club,” You gushed. “It's really brave of you— and your friends— to take your past and turn it into something so amazing for us. So, thank you.”

Hazel grinned like an idiot, fidgeting with her hair as her face burned up.

“Get a room, you two,” PJ intervened with a smirk. “But seriously, I just want to circle back to what Brittany was saying–”

“-I would like to go next, if that’s okay.” Josie raised her hand.

PJ was obviously discontented, but Josie started anyway.

“I don’t really like talking about juvie and everything that happened over the summer, um, you know, we get a lot of props or whatever cause people think it's so badass, But, really wasn’t. I mean, unless you consider getting hazed horrifically every single night, like, badass. I mean, obviously, you know, we had to survive the tributes, and you know, I did have to, like, fight people basically every single night. People were betting on us and we were given shivs and rusty pocket knives and splintered wood and, um, pipes as well.”

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows. No one’s going to believe this, She thought, turning to look at Isabel—

–Who had the most distressed look on her face?

Oh, Hazel blinked, shocked that Josie’s improvised monologue is working. There were almost tears glistening in Isabel’s eyes. She assumed Isabel to be the only one, then she turned to look at you— and your hand was on your mouth, eyes filled with woe.

“And we had to just like, fight people, sometimes to the death,” Josie added.

Hazel frowned. This wasn’t good.

Josie continued.

“And I still hear their screams at night and that guilt probably will, like, always shackle me forever. And sometimes people still try to attack us in the streets for revenge, or try to blackmail us into doing bad things with them, but I realize now, I don’t have to be that person anymore. We don’t have to be like that anymore. We don’t have to just let things happen to us. Because of you guys. And I am just really grateful for what the club has become and… just especially, you know, from where we started and, uh…”

Hazel’s eyes were leaping out of her face as she gestured to Josie to tone it down. She frantically shook her head, indicating that Josie’s speech had much more effect than she thought it would.

“Yeah, sorry,” Josie caught on, ending her facade quickly. “I feel like I kinda killed the vibe. I’ve never really, I guess, said that to anyone before, sorry.”

There was a silence that Hazel felt the need to break. This was bad– she knew Josie liked talking about her trauma, but she didn't expect Josie to make up the most devastating, hunger-games type of trauma in front of you.

“But juvie also wasn’t that bad,” Hazel blurted. “I mean it’s probably way less scary than adult prison, and it really builds character–”

You turned to look at Hazel who was rambling about the positive effects of juvie. Your heart broke at the sight of panic on her face– how harsh were the conditions of juvie that Hazel felt the need to protect her trauma?

Josie cut in. “Yeah, okay, people wanna wrap up maybe or…”

“I’m going through a divorce.”

Everyone turned to Mr. G.

“Whoo! That shit felt good to say.” Mr. G beamed, his leg stretched out as a free spirit. “Whoo, I tell y’all. Men… men need therapy.”

Josie stood up. “Yeah… I think that’s a good place to maybe wrap up.”

“What was that?” Hazel asked.

Josie shrugged, putting on her jacket. “I don’t… I don’t really–”

“-I mean, you were just bullshitting from A to Z with no breaks in between. I didn’t know you were such an actress, Josie.” PJ laughed, playfully shoving Josie’s shoulder. “You should think about that, for your future career.”

Hazel did not laugh. “Josie, you were the one who told me not to be ‘too much.’”

“I don’t think it was too much. I think it was the exact amount of oomph we needed as a group.” PJ grabbed her shoes from the floor. “It made us look vulnerable but also tough.”

“I don’t think (Y/N) was thinking that.”

“Okay, How do you know what (Y/N) was thinking?”

“I don’t, but I could see her–”

“-Maybe she’ll tell you herself,” PJ said, pointing behind Hazel.

Hazel spun around to see you walking towards her. She immediately straightened herself, touching up her hair as you waved to her.

“Hazel.”

Hazel gulped in response.

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to finish the project today?” You asked, giving a shrug. “If you’re not busy. I know you’re always kind of busy and that’s why we just always did our project during lunch, but–”

“-I’m not busy!” Hazel exclaimed, before mentally slapping herself for being too eager. “I mean, today sounds good. Today is perfect.”

“Okay!” It was your turn to be eager, giving a nod before pointing to the girls locker room. “I’ll just get my bag, and I’ll be right back.”

As you slipped into the locker room, PJ and Josie slid towards Hazel with a curious look.

“It didn’t look like she was angry,” PJ commented with a grin. “So, in conclusion, today was a huge success. Do you guys want to get chicken on a stick to celebrate?”

“I… I think I’m hanging out with (Y/N).” Hazel gaped, as if she couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. She was going to hang out with you. Today. Outside of school.

“Right now?”

“Right now!” Hazel gasped. “Oh my god, I don’t know why I said yes, I have to go and patrol the neighborhood–”

“-Ugh, Hazel!” PJ groaned, grabbing Hazel by the shoulders. “That’s literally all you do. You go to school, you come to the fight club, then you patrol the neighborhood. That’s all you do.”

“But—” Hazel sputtered. “-Crime–”

“-Hazel, Crime has been pretty low recently. The world isn’t going to burn down just because you miss patrol for a single day,” PJ countered, as if speaking to a child. “Do you trust me? It’s all about faith. That’s all it is. Leap of faith, Hazel. Leap of faith. Trust me when I say the police can deal with all the petty crimes. Go and enjoy yourself, finish your project, and remember to use protection.”

Hazel’s cheeks grew hot as she opened her mouth to counter PJ— just as you approached the trio with your bag.

“Hey, Hazel. Ready to go?”

Hazel buffered, her mind still on the sexual innuendo. She couldn’t help but think about certain activities when you stood there with your signature smile, earning a cackle from PJ.

“Sorry, we were just talking about juvie trauma and shit. She’s all yours.” PJ earnestly pushed Hazel towards you. “See you guys tomorrow!”

PJ skipped out of the gym, followed by Josie who gave Hazel a thumbs-up. Hazel responded to Josie with a nod. PJ was right– it was just for a day. Just one day off to hang out with you– which was the dream– and tomorrow, she would patrol twice as hard to make it up.

“Sorry, I just was thinking about-” Hazel faltered. “-things.”

“Things?”

Hazel felt the room get hotter. “It’s fine. Not really important.”

“Alright. So, where do you want to go?” You asked.

“Uh…”

Hazel thought about what PJ had said.

Leap of faith, was it?

And she took the leap.

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

By 8PM, the two of you found yourself in Hazel’s room, caught in a fit of laughter. Pizza and snacks were strewn across her bed, and music played out from her laptop as you wrapped up the project— a lego diorama with a bunch of famous murdered women. It was quite inappropriate but also incredibly creative, and the ridiculousness of it all had you two in stitches.

“I bet you 5 dollars that Mr. G doesn’t even have an actual degree,” You joked, adding a lego version of Casey Becker to the diorama. “He just showed up one day, and Principal Meyers desperately needed more teachers.”

“And ever since the club, he’s just been handing out As to every single girl,” Hazel laughed, causing you to fall into a fit of giggles as well. She lived for your laughter, thanking PJ and Josie in her head for convincing her to skip patrol for the day.

“Okay, I think we’re almost done. Just have to add the blood.” You grabbed the bottle of red paint and dropped some on your fingertip, then dabbed it around the lego characters’ bodies to create the ‘murder’ effect.

In the process, you somehow managed to smudge some on your cheek, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hazel who had made a habit of staring at you all the time.

“Oh, you got some on your…” Hazel tried, pointing to your face.

You blinked, eyes focusing on her face as you registered her words. You chuckled in embarrassment, trying to find the paint on your cheeks and obviously failing.

“Can I…?” Hazel breathed, and you tilted your head, allowing her to wipe away the streak of paint with her thumb. Her fingers moved delicately across your cheek, her eyes locked onto your’s. You could feel the warmth of her hand on your skin, and you melted against it. Hazel’s touch lingered on your cheek for a moment longer than necessary, and Hazel realized only after she had savored the view for a while.

She pulled away, breaking your gaze with a sheepish smile. Your cheeks were tinted with a soft blush, and you muttered a word of thanks before finishing off the project with distractingly loud heartbeats.

The two of you stared at the finalized diorama in proud silence, taking in the project in its glory. It was messy and odd, but it was still illustrious.

“Well, I guess we’re finished!” You clapped your hands to commemorate the ending of you and Hazel’s homework.

“It’s been fun working with you,” Hazel replied, a little disappointed that this was the end of the project. What excuse did she have to hang out with you now?

You cocked your head. “Oh, don’t act like this is the last time we’re ever going to hang out together.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” You grinned. “With Mr. G’s class, lunch, and the self-defense club, I’m going to be with you all the time. You might even get sick of me at some point.”

I’m not sure that’s possible, Hazel thought to herself, really pleased that she had secured friendship with you.

“Speaking of the self-defense club, I’m really glad that you invited me,” You continued, wiping your red hands with a nearby paper towel. “I was being honest during the sharing circle. I’m really grateful for you.”

Hazel softened at your words.

“And I hope your mom gets better with her mid-life crisis,” You added.

“Thank you.” Although you had complimented her, Hazel couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about the sharing circle. She was lying to you– continuously. Was that a good base for a relationship? Not that you two had a relationship. Not that she didn’t want one. “Listen– what Josie said about juvie today, I think I have to clarify some things.”

You shook your head. You had purposefully left out that subject not to trigger her– and you didn’t want to make it feel like she owed you her history. “Oh, Hazel, you don’t need to explain anything to me. I get that it’s a hard subject to talk about, and I just want you to know that I’m here if you need anything.”

Hazel hesitated. She supposed if you didn’t really want to hear the explanation, she could keep her secret—

“-I mean what you went through was brutal and inhumane,” You continued.

Hazel’s guilt suffocated her.

“But you endured through it. You’re so brave. And so strong and just… honest. Like I can tell that everything that you do is genuine. You make me feel like I can be strong too—”

“-Okay, I need to tell you something,” Hazel interrupted. She couldn’t handle it anymore— but she knew she couldn’t tell you the whole truth. She took a deep breath before continuing. “There are some things happening in my life right now that I can’t really… talk about. But I want to. But I can’t. It’s for your safety and I shouldn’t even be mentioning that but… you really matter to me.”

Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that.

Hazel swallowed hard and gazed at you for a reaction.

“I do?” You peered back at Hazel’s reddened face. She nodded in response and it was your turn to be flustered, not knowing what to say.

“And I… I want to be honest with you,” Hazel pressed on. “I can’t tell you the whole truth. But I—”

“-Dispatch, we have a 10-90 in progress at the bank downtown. Requesting immediate backup and EMT support.”

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Hazel quickly grabbed her laptop, which she had rigged to eavesdrop on police communications. She forgot that it automatically turned on after school. Why did it have to be now, of all fucking times?

“Was that the police?” You asked, confused.

Hazel shook her head frantically. “No, I just– it’s just another, uhm, project that I’m working on, it’s fine–”

“-Copy that. Units en route. Proceed with caution.”

“We have eyes on the suspects, attempting to establish a perimeter.”

“10-4, be advised, we’ve informed EMTs, and SWAT is en route. Keep us updated.”

Hazel hastily began typing, searching up the latest updates on the current news of the town. She managed to find the location of the bank robbery— which had everything Hazel feared for. Armed robbers, high-tech weaponry, and injured police officers.

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have skipped today,” Hazel muttered under her breath.

You paused. “Skip what?”

“I—” Hazel swallowed, inner conflict evident as she spoke. “-I think I have to go.”

“Go?” You paused. “Hazel, what is going on?”

Hazel didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up and grabbed her phone and her backpack, briskly heading towards the door. But you were faster, quickly running and positioning yourself in the path to block her way.

“I think I know what’s going on,” you claimed, your voice low and heavy.

Hazel froze. Oh no. You knew. You knew? How did you know? Had she been so obvious? Was it the back flip?

“(Y/N), I can explain–”

“-This is related to juvie, isn’t it?”

Hazel blinked.

“What?”

She stared at you, who looked incredibly serious, with lips pursed tight in worry. Hazel shook her head frantically. She wanted to kick PJ for even coming up with that excuse– now it was getting all tangled up with you and her hero work.

“No! It has nothing to do with juvie,” Hazel assured, trying to get past you.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Hazel.”

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows.

I kind of do.

You understood her expression as guilt. “And obviously I don’t understand fully what’s going on but if what Josie said was true and some things are happening with the people you messed with from juvie, then, I want to help you.”

You stepped closer and took her hand, holding it tight with genuinity.

“Hazel, I care about you.”

Hazel released her breath.

If you had said that in any other context, Hazel would have kissed you right there and then. Your hands felt so warm, so gentle– a bit shaky, as if you were afraid of what she would do if you let go. And your unwavering eyes– upset eyes that made it seem like her worries belonged to you too— And it took everything in Hazel to swallow back her words, gently guiding you to her bed and sitting you down.

For a moment, you thought she would stay.

But Hazel pulled away from you..

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Just please, stay here, and I’ll be back,” Hazel whispered. “I promise.”

And after a regretful look, she was gone.

“Hazel—” You called after her. “Hazel!”

Your mind began to race– where was she going? All you remembered from the police transmissions was something about the bank and the SWAT team. You reached for your phone, searching up the local news. It wasn’t hard to find articles related to the current conflict—

Masked Robbers Employ High-Tech Arsenal in Bank Heist, Defying Police Response

Bank Heist Nightmare Unfolds; Thieves Utilize Cutting-Edge Tech

Bank Robbery in Progress: Impossible to Arrest, Police Say

Police Overwhelmed in Ongoing Standoff at 1st Street National Trust Bank

This was bad. Bank robbery? High-Tech Arsenal? It sounded dangerous– more than whatever Hazel could handle, no matter how strong she was during the self-defense club. What was she going to do with these criminals? Did she owe them something? She was always writing stuff in her notebook— did it have anything to do with this?

You ignored the questions stemming from your fear– you didn’t have time to think. Hazel was out there— and she was very clearly heading to an angry, dangerous scene.

But Hazel was just a girl.

And you had to protect her.

You had to save Hazel Callahan.

Previous Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

Next Chapter

(Guys I don't know how a taglist works so just comment "Tag me next chapter" here BUT if you want to be tagged in all chapters, put "tag me in all upcoming chapters" on THIS POST ok???)

@valenftcrush

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan spiderwoman #bottoms (2023)#josie bottoms #pj bottoms

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1427 · 1 year ago

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When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul.

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan.

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was.

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that.

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er.

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do.

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever.

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im.

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one.

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But…

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest.

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia.

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle.

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it.

“I like you, Dar.”

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time.

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.”

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.”

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time.

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night.

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did.

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me.

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this.

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” She smiles.

“Good.” I clarify.

“Good.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.”

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once.

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.”

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?”

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what? she just laughs.

Shit.

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’.

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it. She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived.

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated. And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three.

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that.

How didn’t I see it?

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things.

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit.

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse.

‘Til the walkers hear me.

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else.

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia.

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it.

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more.

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it.

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all.

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.”

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me.

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.”

“Stop callin’ me tha’.”

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.”

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.”

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh.

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t.

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.”

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?”

She did come back.

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question.

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it.

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know.

“Think it was more the other thing you said.”

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper.

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.”

What? “Why not?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.”

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again.

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it.

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