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brunchable · 3 months ago

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LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader

Part III

Part One | Part Two | Final Words: 11.1K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence, Action (Fighting Scenes: Steve vs Bucky), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Emotionally heavy? Death. Sneak Peak: Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you turned back to the window. “I’ve got people waiting for us at my father’s old place. People who want to rebel. But if Stark’s right… if there’s something inside me that they can still control…”

A/N: This was difficult to write man, I feel like i keep repeating myself. Anyways this short story is almost done, I'm thinking to make one for bucky in this same timeline, but i dunno.

Tags: @realifelamb @needsleep3000 @vicmc624 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @mrs-jjmaybank @strepsils123 @nesnejwritings @haruvalentine4321 @feelinthefic @niffala @fantasyfootballchampion @thefandomplace

SHIELD agents moved about the Helicarrier, carrying out their usual duties. The tension from your recent capture still lingered in the air, but for the moment, everything seemed normal.

Inside one of the briefing rooms, the Avengers gathered around a large, circular table. The holographic display in the center flickered to life. Steve stood at the far end, his expression remaining grim. He had been silent since his conversation with you, apart from when he told Fury about the new information about you.

Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, his one good eye sweeping over the assembled team. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention as the screen behind him shifted to show a detailed molecular structure—one that looked alien yet familiar.

“This,” Fury began, pointing to the hologram, “is the Lazarus Serum. It was an experimental project conducted by a rogue HYDRA scientist during World War II. What makes this serum different from the Super Soldier Serum is that it’s derived from an unknown foreign DNA, not of earth.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Tony’s brow furrowed in thought, while Natasha leaned forward, her eyes narrowing at the image on the screen.

“So an Alien DNA?” Natasha echoed, disbelief evident in her voice. “How did HYDRA even get their hands on something like that?”

Fury’s expression darkened. “During the war, HYDRA had their hands in more than just earthly affairs. There were rumors that they made contact with otherworldly entities, collecting samples and conducting experiments. Most of these were failures or too dangerous to continue, but the Lazarus Serum was different. It worked, but with a catch. It enhanced the subject’s strength, speed, and durability—just like the Super Soldier Serum—but the side effects were severe: mental instability, increased aggression. . .making them unhinged.”

“And Y/N?” Steve’s voice was low, but it carried a weight that made everyone turn toward him.

“She’s the only known survivor of the Lazarus project,” Fury confirmed. “And because the serum is derived from Alien DNA, its effects are permanent. Y/N is more than just enhanced—she’s on a whole other level. The serum doesn’t just slow aging; it effectively makes her immune to most forms of injury. We’ve seen that she can take bullets without flinching, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

Fury opened up a highly confidential video file named, ‘Lazarus Serum’ and instantly piqued the team's curiosity.

As the holographic footage played, the room fell into a tense silence. The screen displayed a black-and-white, grainy video of a sterile HYDRA laboratory, dimly lit and cold, with the camera focusing on you, strapped to a metal table. The tension among the Avengers was palpable as they watched, the atmosphere heavy with the gravity of what they were about to witness.

You lay on the table, your body weak and trembling. The serum coursing through your veins was taking its final toll, pushing you to the brink of death. Your skin was pale, your breaths shallow, and your heartbeat was erratic, the monitors showing your vitals dipping dangerously low.

Fury’s voice cut through the footage, steady but grim. “This is what our talented hackers are able to salvage, the final recorded moment of the Lazarus Serum experiment. Day 100.”

On the screen, the lead scientist stood over you, his expression hard as he observed the monitors. Despite the clear signs that you were dying, he was refusing to back down. The technician beside him looked increasingly anxious, glancing between the monitors and your convulsing body.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," the technician warned, his voice shaking. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The scientist’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, silencing any further protest.

The technician hesitated but ultimately complied, injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The screen showed your body convulsing violently on the table, the restraints biting into your skin as your body tried to fight the unbearable pain. The lines on the monitors went haywire, your heart rate spiking uncontrollably before it suddenly flatlined.

Steve couldn’t bear to watch any longer. The sight of you, broken and tortured. His heart clenched with a pain so intense it might as well be a heart attack. It was clear that every second of this footage was torture for him, he tried to keep watching but turned his head away, unable to watch life being drained from you. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over. He couldn’t bring himself to see the moment you died, the moment HYDRA took everything from you.

Fury paused the footage briefly, his gaze sweeping over the team. “At this point, HYDRA pronounced her dead. The lead scientist, as you can hear, said to ‘Dispose of the body.’ They believed the experiment was a failure, and that Y/N had died.”

The footage resumed, showing the scientist’s callous order to dispose of your body. The camera caught the technician’s expression—a mix of shock and fear—as he moved to unstrap your lifeless form from the table. The filming stops and the screens go black.

“We can only guess what happened next,” Fury’s voice echoed through the room. “This is why it’s called the Lazarus Serum. Like the Lazarus of myth, it brought her back to life. The woman you knew, Steve, died on that table. What came back was something else.”

“Excuse me.” Steve quietly excused himself from the room, his thoughts too heavy to focus on a strategy. He needed a moment alone, to process what he had just seen, and to prepare himself for the fight of his life.

Tony, who had been deep in thought, glanced up just in time to see Steve slipping out of the door. Something about the way Steve moved—so rigid, so controlled—set off alarm bells in Tony’s mind.

“Hey, Cap—” Tony called after him, but Steve didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn his head. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he watched Steve go. He knew that look, the one where Steve was bottling everything up inside, pretending he was fine when he was anything but.

× × × ×

Steve barely made it to his quarters before the dam broke. The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss, sealing him in the solitude he so desperately needed. For a moment, he stood there, his back against the door, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fought to maintain control.

But the weight of everything he had just seen and heard—the memories, the footage of your death, the knowledge that you had suffered because of him—crushed down on him with a force that made his knees buckle. He stumbled forward, his vision blurring with unshed tears.

With a choked sob, Steve lashed out, his fist slamming into the nearest object—his desk. The wood splintered under the force of the blow, but the pain in his knuckles barely registered. He hit it again, and again, each impact sending shockwaves up his arm, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

He threw a chair, shattered a picture frame, and ripped the curtains from the window, the fabric tearing with a violent snap. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through the crushing weight of his emotions.

The door to his room suddenly opened, and Tony Stark stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he took in the sight of Steve in the midst of his rampage. Steve didn’t notice him at first, too lost in his own agony to register anything beyond the need to destroy, to somehow externalize the pain that was tearing him apart from the inside.

“Steve!” Tony’s voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. But Steve didn’t stop. He grabbed the closest thing within reach—a lamp—and hurled it across the room, the glass shattering as it struck the wall.

“Steve!” Tony shouted again, moving quickly to grab Steve’s arm as he reached for another object. Steve yanked his arm away, his eyes wild and unfocused, his chest heaving as he glared at Tony.

“Get out!” Steve’s voice was raw, torn from the depths of his soul. But Tony didn’t back down. Instead, he reached out again, this time catching Steve’s wrist in a firm grip.

“Steve, stop!” Tony’s voice was filled with a mixture of urgency and compassion as he tightened his hold. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Steve struggled but held back in Tony’s grip, his knuckles already bleeding from the impacts against the wooden furniture. But Tony didn’t let go. He could see the pain in Steve’s eyes, the anguish that was tearing him apart, and he knew he couldn’t just leave him like this.

“Damn it, Rogers, look at me!” Tony’s voice cracked with emotion as he forced Steve to meet his gaze. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

For a moment, Steve’s rage faltered, his eyes locking with Tony’s. The room fell into silence, the only sound the ragged breathing of the two men standing in the midst of the wreckage. And then, as if the fight had been drained out of him, Steve collapsed to his knees, his body trembling with the force of his sobs.

“I did this,” Steve gasped, his voice choking with emotion. “All of this.”

Tony knelt beside him, his heart aching at the sight of his friend so completely broken. He pulled Steve into a tight embrace, holding him as Steve’s walls crumbled completely.

Steve fought against it at first, his body stiffening as if trying to hold onto the last shreds of his composure, but eventually, he couldn’t resist. He rested his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, his sobs coming harder and faster, his breath hitching in his throat.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Tony whispered, his own voice thick with emotion as he acted as Steve’s rock.

“I failed,” Steve cried, his voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder. “I left her when she needed me the most. How can I ever make that right?”

“Damn it,” Tony mumbled, tightened his grip, his own throat constricting as he tried to hold back his own tears, “HYDRA did this, not you. There is always a way.”

× × × ×

Tony entered the cell, his expression devoid of the usual levity. He took a moment to observe you, noticing the way your eyes followed his every move, calculating, waiting.

"Back so soon, Stark?" You broke the silence, your voice a smooth mixture of mockery and disinterest. "Did you miss me?"

Tony didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, folding his hands in front of him. He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unflinching.

"I think you and I both know there's more to this Lazarus Serum than you're letting on," Tony began, his tone conversational but with an edge of steel beneath it.

“I see Rogers didn't waste any time, after knowing about my serum,” you chuckled and raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "Is this the part where you try to psychoanalyze me? Try to figure out what makes me tick?"

"Oh, I don't need to figure out what makes you tick. I already know. You’re angry, bitter, and probably more than a little scared. Not that you’d ever admit it." Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, the first crack in your carefully maintained facade. "You don’t know anything about me."

"Don’t I?" Tony replied smoothly, his voice taking on a tone of calculated sympathy. "You were Steve’s girl, right? The one who got left behind, forgotten. You were just a kid when HYDRA took you, and they twisted you into something… else. You’re not angry because of what they did to you. You’re angry because the people who were supposed to care about you—people like Steve—didn’t save you."

Your hands clenched into fists at Tony’s words, the knuckles turning white. "You think you’re clever, now huh? You think you can come in here and play mind games with me?"

Tony leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "I’m not playing games. I just want to understand what’s going on here. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever as simple as it seems. You hate Steve, sure. You hate me, too, probably. But I’m betting there’s a part of you that hates HYDRA even more. So why don’t you tell me what they really did to you? What’s the catch with this Lazarus Serum? What are they not telling you?”

You held Tony's gaze, the flicker of something darker passing through your eyes. But you kept your expression as neutral as you could. "You think I’m just going to spill my secrets to you? You’re more naive than I thought."

Tony smirked, leaning back again, feigning a relaxed demeanor. "Oh, I don't expect you to spill everything. Not right away. But I’m pretty good at reading between the lines. And right now, you’re giving off a lot of signals, sweetheart."

The nickname was meant to annoy you, but you didn’t react, keeping your face impassive. Instead, you decided to toy with him a bit. "You really think you’re different from the rest of them, don’t you? Just because you’re a genius in a tin suit? HYDRA, SHIELD, you—they’re all the same. You all think you’re the smartest one in the room. But you’re all playing the same game. You’re all just cogs in the same machine."

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. "That’s a nice speech. But I’ve been in your shoes, remember? Taken apart, piece by piece, rebuilt by people who didn’t give a damn about what they were doing to me. So why don’t we cut the crap? What did HYDRA really do to you?"

You leaned forward, matching his intensity. "They made me better. Stronger. Faster. Everything your buddy Rogers has, and then some. But you already know that. What you really want to know is how to stop it."

Tony tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "So it’s true then? There’s no off-switch? No failsafe? You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you?"

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you almost let it slip. Almost. But you caught yourself, settling back in your chair with a cold smile. "Nice try. But you’re not as clever as you think you are."

Tony’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes hardened. "You’re right. I’m not trying to be clever. I’m trying to help you. You think you’re untouchable now, but the truth is, HYDRA doesn’t make anything without a leash. You’re telling me there’s no failsafe? No way to control you if you step out of line?"

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was all Tony needed. "See? That, right there. You hesitated. There’s something you’re not telling me. Something even you don’t know."

You clenched your jaw, the silence between you thickening. Tony was getting under your skin, and he knew it. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you’re free? You’re just as much a prisoner as you were when they first strapped you to that table. And deep down, you know it."

"You think you can manipulate me with your cheap psychology tricks? I’ve had experts try to break me, Stark. You’re not even in the same league."

Tony’s expression remained unfazed. "I don’t need to break you. I just need to understand. Because if you think for one second that I’m going to let HYDRA have their way with you—or with anyone else—you’re sorely mistaken."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Tony Stark was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. And he was right about one thing: HYDRA didn’t make anything without a failsafe. But what did that mean for you? Did you even want to know?

Tony watched the conflict play out on your face, and he decided to push just a little bit harder. "You can keep pretending that you’re in control, that you’re the one calling the shots. But at the end of the day, you’re just another one of HYDRA’s experiments. And when they’re done with you, they’ll toss you aside like garbage."

Your hands trembled slightly, the anger boiling just beneath the surface. "Shut up, Stark."

He leaned back, satisfied that he had struck a nerve. "We’ll talk again when you’re ready to stop lying to yourself. And trust me, you will."

As Tony stood up to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. The idea that HYDRA could still have control over you, that there was something they hadn’t told you—it gnawed at you. But you couldn’t let him see that. You couldn’t let him win.

Just before Tony reached the door, you spoke again, your voice cold and distant. "You think you know everything now. But it's only the tip of a needle."

Tony paused, turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. "Then enlighten me."

But you didn’t say another word. You simply stared at him, your eyes burning with a mixture of anger and fear. Tony shook his head slightly, a hint of disappointment in his expression before walking out and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, those thoughts weren’t comforting.

× × × ×

Your eyes snapped open. The blaring sound reverberated through the metal structure of the Helicarrier, signaling chaos above. A slow, cold smile spread across your lips, a glimmer of dark satisfaction in your eyes.

Leaning back against the wall, you tilted your head slightly, listening to the escalating panic beyond the cell door. The symphony of chaos was almost... delightful.

“Finally,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the din.

The lights flickered, the warning sirens growing louder and more insistent as SHIELD agents scrambled to their stations. The Avengers, who had been spread out across the ship, immediately converged in the command center, each of them on high alert.

"What now?" Tony muttered, his face twisting into a frown as he glanced at the flashing red lights.

Fury's voice boomed over the intercom. "We've got hostiles onboard. This isn't a drill—The Winter Soldier and a squad of HYDRA operatives just breached the perimeter."

Steve's heart plummeted. He had just started to gather himself after the emotional breakdown of learning about your past and his rage-fueled outburst. Now, hearing about Bucky’s presence, he felt a fresh surge of desperation. He had to stop him from reaching you.

As they ran through the Helicarrier's corridors, the sounds of battle grew louder. Gunfire echoed off the metal walls, and the smell of smoke and burning electronics filled the air.

The Helicarrier shook as explosions ripped through the structure, sending sparks and chunks of metal cascading through the corridors.

Alarms blared, drowning out the shouts of SHIELD agents and the staccato of gunfire. The team raced through the chaos, dodging falling debris and returning fire at HYDRA agents who revealed themselves.

Natasha sprinted ahead, her movements fluid as she flipped over a barrage of bullets, landing gracefully before taking out two HYDRA agents with precise shots to their heads. She quickly ducked behind cover, reloading her pistols, eyes scanning for the next threat. Clint, perched in a higher vantage point, loosed arrows with deadly accuracy, each one finding its mark in the chest or throat of a HYDRA agent.

“We’ve got to cut them off before they reach Y/N!” Steve shouted through the comms, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Tony took to the air, his repulsors humming as he blasted through a wall to create a shortcut.

“On it!” he called out, targeting a group of HYDRA agents laying down suppressive fire from a balcony. His repulsors lit up the darkened corridor as he unleashed a barrage of energy beams, reducing the balcony—and the agents on it—to rubble.

Meanwhile, Steve charged forward, his shield a blur of motion as he deflected bullets and took down any HYDRA operatives in his path. He was relentless, driven by the singular focus of reaching you before it was too late. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion of battle, but from the gnawing fear of what would happen if Bucky succeeded.

Ahead of him, the Winter Soldier, was a force of nature. He moved with deadly precision, his metal arm crushing through walls and doors as if they were paper. With every obstacle he encountered, he either barreled through or dismantled it.

A squad of SHIELD agents attempted to block his path, but they were no match for his ruthlessness. Bucky dispatched them brutally, his expression unchanging as he advanced toward the detention level.

Steve caught sight of Bucky just as he took out the last of the SHIELD agents guarding the entrance to your cell.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve shouted, his voice carrying through the smoke-filled corridor.

Bucky turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Steve. There was a flicker of recognition, but it was quickly buried beneath the cold, mechanical focus of the Winter Soldier. Without a word, Bucky charged at Steve, their collision echoing through the Helicarrier like a thunderclap. The force of their impact sent shockwaves through the surrounding walls, cracking the metal and sending a rain of sparks from the overhead lights.

The fight was immediate and brutal, each man fighting with a desperate intensity that went beyond the mission. Steve knew he had to stop Bucky, not just to protect you, but to save the man who had once been his best friend. But Bucky was relentless, his movements precise and deadly, every strike aimed to incapacitate or kill.

Steve blocked a powerful punch from Bucky’s metal arm with his shield, the impact reverberating up his arm and nearly knocking him off balance. He retaliated with a swift kick to Bucky’s midsection, but Bucky barely flinched, grabbing Steve by the arm and slamming him against the wall with enough force to dent the metal.

“You don’t have to do this!” Steve shouted, ducking under a wild swing from Bucky’s left fist. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

“Shut up!” Bucky growled, his voice low and dangerous as he swung his metal arm at Steve with murderous intent. “I don’t want to hear it!”

But Steve wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. “You’re Bucky! You joined the 107th Infantry, you fought in the war, you saved my life more times than I can count!”

“Shut up!” Bucky roared, slamming Steve into the wall again, the force of the impact cracking the metal. “Shut up!”

But Steve pressed on, his voice cracking with desperation. “You’re a brother to me, Bucky! We went through hell together! You’re not this—this weapon HYDRA made you into! You’re James Buchanan Barnes!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with something dark and twisted as he Bucky’s grip tightened around Steve’s throat, the rage in his eyes burning brighter with each word Steve spoke. “I told you to shut up!”

But Steve, despite the choking pressure on his windpipe, forced the words out. “You’re... Bucky... you’re... my brother...”

With a snarl, Bucky shoved Steve back, releasing his grip only to drive a brutal punch into Steve’s midsection. Steve doubled over, gasping for air, but even as he staggered, he refused to give up.

“Remember... who you are, who I am,” Steve rasped, clutching at his ribs as he straightened up.

"I don't care to remember who you are but I do remember this. . .”

Steve’s heart surged with a flicker of hope, but it was quickly dashed as Bucky continued, his tone dripping with malice. “I remember the way she used to scream for me, the way she begged because someone couldn't satisfy her.”

Steve saw red.

Steve launched himself at Bucky, his fists flying with a ferocity he hadn’t unleashed in years. All the restraint, all the control he usually maintained, evaporated in the face of Bucky’s vile taunts. He swung his shield with all vicious force, slamming it into Bucky’s side and following up with a brutal uppercut that sent Bucky staggering back.

But Bucky recovered quickly, his expression cold and unyielding as he blocked Steve’s next punch with his metal arm. The force of their strikes echoed through the corridor, each blow landing with the weight of their shared history and the emotional wounds that had been ripped open.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Steve shouted, his voice hoarse with rage as he slammed his shield into Bucky’s midsection again. “This isn’t you! HYDRA did this to you! You’re not their puppet!”

But Bucky just sneered, his eyes filled with contempt as he caught Steve’s next punch and twisted his arm painfully. “She never begged you for more, did she? No matter how much you tried, she always needed me to finish what you couldn’t start.”

The taunt was the final straw. Steve’s vision blurred with a red haze as he let out a guttural scream, wrenching his arm free and slamming his shield into Bucky’s chest with enough force to crack the metal floor beneath them. He didn’t care about strategy or technique anymore—he just wanted to hurt Bucky, to make him pay for every word, every twisted memory HYDRA had implanted in his mind.

Steve pressed his advantage, driving Bucky back with a flurry of powerful strikes. He landed a solid punch to Bucky’s jaw, then followed it up with a brutal shield bash that sent Bucky staggering. For a moment, it seemed as though Steve might actually overpower him. Bucky’s defenses faltered, and Steve took full advantage, slamming him into the wall with a force that made the entire corridor shudder.

“You don’t get to talk about her!” Steve roared, his shield coming down like a hammer, striking Bucky again and again. The fury in his eyes was all-consuming, his movements fueled by a deep, protective rage.

Bucky grunted in pain, the relentless assault forcing him onto the defensive. He blocked a few of Steve’s strikes, but the sheer force behind each blow drove him back, his metal arm straining under the impact.

“You’re not taking her!” Steve shouted, driving his knee into Bucky’s midsection and following it with a devastating uppercut that sent Bucky crashing to the ground.

For a moment, Steve loomed over Bucky, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with anger. He had the upper hand, and Bucky looked up at him with something that might have been fear or perhaps something darker.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. As Steve moved in for the final blow, Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and with a sudden, vicious twist, he swept Steve’s legs out from under him. Steve hit the ground hard, his shield clattering to the side. Before he could recover, Bucky was on him, his metal arm clamping around Steve’s throat, squeezing with unyielding force.

Steve’s vision darkened as he struggled against Bucky’s grip, the initial surge of rage drained him, leaving him vulnerable. Bucky leaned in close, his expression cold and unforgiving, his grip tightening as if to finish him off.

But then, something shifted in Bucky’s eyes. His grip faltered, the anger in his expression wavering. He stared down at Steve, breathing heavily, and for a moment, he looked... lost. The hostility that had driven him was still there, but it was mingled with familiarity.

Steve, gasping for air, could see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes. “You...will put her in danger if you take her,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained but firm. “You’re more than what they made you.”

Bucky’s hand trembled, the pressure on Steve’s throat easing slightly. He didn’t know why, but the idea of finishing Steve off suddenly felt wrong. There was a nagging feeling deep inside him, something that pushed against the cold, mechanical orders HYDRA had drilled into him.

He released his grip on Steve’s throat entirely, stepping back as if unsure of what he had been about to do. He looked down at Steve, who lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt a pang of guilt.

“I... don’t care who you are,” Bucky muttered, his voice cracking with an emotion he couldn’t place. “But stay out of my way.”

Instead of delivering the final blow, Bucky turned and walked away, leaving Steve lying on the cold metal floor, bruised and battered but still conscious.

Bucky reached the detention level, his pace quickening as he neared the cell where you were held. The door loomed ahead and he entered the pin that he was given by one of the agents.

He stepped into the cell, his expression softening as he saw you. “Let's go,” he said, his voice filled with a protective tone that left no room for doubt. It didn’t matter who stood in his way—he would protect you at any cost, even if it meant defying the part of him that still hesitated, still questioned, still remembered.

× × × ×

In the hangar bay, Tony arrived just in time to see the transport vanish into the distance. He cursed under his breath, frustration and anger bubbling up inside him as he activated his comms.

“Fury, we’ve lost them. They’re gone,” Tony said, his voice laced with bitterness.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Fury responded. “Get Rogers and regroup. We’ll figure out our next move, but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Tony glanced back at the corridor where Steve was trying to get up with a grimace.

He made his way back to Steve, kneeling beside his fallen teammate. “Come on, Cap,” Tony muttered, “We’ve got work to do.”

Steve groaned as got up to his feet, head pounding from the beating he’d taken. The first thing he saw when he looked up was Tony’s face, his expression grim but not without a hint of concern.

“Y/N…?” Steve murmured, his voice weak as he tried to push himself up.

“They got her,” Tony replied, his tone flat. “Bucky took her, and they’re long gone by now.”

Steve’s heart sank, the weight of his failure crashing down on him like a ton of bricks adding to the pile. But Tony wasn’t about to let him wallow in self-pity.

“Save it for later, Cap,” Tony said, helping him to his feet. “Right now, we need to get back to the others. Fury’s not going to be happy about this, but we need to regroup and figure out our next move.”

Steve nodded numbly, still trying to process everything that had happened. The pain in his ribs and the bruises covering his body were nothing compared to the agony of knowing that he had failed again.

× × × ×

The dust began to settle, and the team regrouped, battered but unbowed. The realization of what had just happened—of how deeply HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD—hung over them like a dark cloud. The Helicarrier was in disarray, corridors filled with debris, smoke still curling from shattered panels, and the distant sound of alarms echoing through the vast structure. SHIELD agents, those who remained loyal, were helping the wounded and trying to restore some semblance of order.

Steve Rogers leaned heavily against a wall, his injuries and the emotional toll pressing down on him like never before.

Tony Stark, always one to keep moving even when his mind was in chaos, was pacing back and forth, his suit clanking with every step. He had been replaying the events of the past few hours in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word, every move, searching for something they had missed. As his thoughts churned, a memory suddenly clicked into place, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

“Dammit,” Tony muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief. The suddenness of his outburst caused the others to turn toward him, their expressions questioning.

“What is it?” Natasha asked, her tone sharp as she watched Tony with narrowed eyes. She was on edge, the adrenaline of the fight still pumping through her veins, and the last thing she needed was another surprise.

Tony turned to face the group, frustration evident as he pieced it together out loud. “Y/N knew. That cryptic crap she said during the interrogation—it wasn’t just her messing with us. She was trying to tell us something.”

Steve straightened at the mention of your name, his heart tightening as he remembered the cold, distant look in your eyes during the interrogation.

“What are you talking about, Tony?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“She said something about how ‘keep your friends close. . . But your enemies closer,’ and that ‘you’d be shocked at how deep the rot goes.’ At the time, it sounded like she was just spewing nonsense to get under our skin. But now…it makes sense.”

“She was warning us,” Tony continued, his tone filled with a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration. “She was trying to tell us that HYDRA had already infiltrated SHIELD. She practically spelled it out for us, but we were too blind to see it. We were so focused on her as the enemy that we didn’t stop to think about what she was really saying.”

Natasha frowned, her mind racing as she recalled the conversation. “Why didn’t she just come out and say it directly?” she questioned, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew the answer.

“Because she couldn’t,” Clint interjected, “If she’d said it outright, they’d know. HYDRA would have seen it, and they’d have to shut her down before she could give us anything.”

Steve, who had been standing off to the side, consumed with thoughts of you, felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so focused on what you had become—so fixated on the idea of saving you—that he hadn’t seen what you were trying to tell them. You had been trying to help them, in your own way, and he had missed it.

“Y/N was trying to help us,” Steve murmured, his voice filled with a mix of realization and sorrow. “But we didn’t listen.”

Tony’s expression softened slightly, though his usual bravado was still present. “She was still playing her own game, Cap. Don’t romanticize it too much. But yeah, she threw us a bone. And we missed it.”

Natasha stepped closer, her gaze firm and unyielding. “So what do we do now? We can’t trust anyone. HYDRA could be anywhere—everywhere. We need a plan.”

Steve’s mind was spinning, this was the last thing they needed. The fight with Bucky, the realization that you had tried to warn them, the knowledge that HYDRA had already sunk its claws deep into SHIELD—it was hard to believe, but that was now the reality.

But he couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

“We need to figure out who we can trust, and take the fight to HYDRA. We’ll find Y/N and Bucky, and we’ll put an end to this.” Steve said firmly.

The others nodded.

They had been blindsided, caught off guard by the depth of HYDRA’s infiltration. But they were the Avengers—they had faced impossible odds before, and they would do it again.

As the team moved to regroup and plan their next steps, Tony lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Steve. “Cap,” he said quietly, drawing Steve’s attention. “We’ll get them back. Both of them.”

× × × ×

The stolen Quinjet’s engines was the only sound between you and Bucky as the landscape blurred beneath. Outside, the world rushed by in a silent blur of greens and browns, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty.

You sat in the copilot’s seat, staring out of the window, mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Tony’s words echoed in your head, a gnawing doubt that you couldn’t shake. You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you? You remembered him saying, his voice laced with the same arrogance that always grated on your nerves. But this time, beneath the bravado, there was something else—truth.

Was there something HYDRA hadn’t told you? Some failsafe, hidden deep within you? The thought made you uneasy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You clenched your fists, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. You had always prided yourself on being in control, on being the one to pull the strings. But now… now you weren't so sure.

Beside you, Bucky was equally lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the controls, though his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s words from their brutal fight were like daggers in his mind, each one striking a different nerve. He had tried to shut them out, to focus on the mission, but they kept coming back, louder and louder. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

The memories were there, just out of reach, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit. Bucky’s grip on the controls tightened as he fought the urge to scream, to give in to the frustration that was building inside him. But he couldn’t.

“We’re still quite far,” You said quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath it that Bucky didn’t miss.

He nodded, glancing over at you. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice gruff.

You didn’t answer right away, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. When you finally spoke, your voice was low, almost as if you were speaking to yourself. “I don’t know anymore. About anything.”

Bucky didn’t press you. He understood that feeling all too well. For the longest time, his life had been nothing but a series of orders, a mission without end. Now, here he was, flying towards a past that he barely remembered, with a woman who was just as lost as he was.

“Stark is right, you know,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About HYDRA. About the control they still have over me. Stark… Stark said something that’s been eating away at me. He thinks there’s a failsafe. Something I don’t know about.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

“Then we deal with it,” Bucky said firmly, his voice cutting through your doubt. “We’ll find out what HYDRA did, and we’ll tear it out by the roots.”

You glanced over at Bucky, a serious expression settling over your face. “Now that my plan to sabotage Pierce succeeded, he has new enemies,” you said, your voice steady and sure. “What’s left of SHIELD… and us. I just know he's scrambling to get the upper hand.”

Bucky paused, taking in your words before he asked the question that had been nagging at him. “Why did you help them? The Avengers.”

Your gaze shifted back to the window, your expression hardening slightly. “I didn’t.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, confused. “What would you call it then?”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with the weight of what lay unspoken between you. Finally, you turned to face him, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “Taking down Pierce. That was my only goal. The Avengers were just… a means to an end.”

Bucky studied you, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. “So you used them?”

“Use them, manipulate them, call it what you want,” you replied, your tone firm but devoid of the venom that usually laced your words. “I needed them to believe they had the upper hand. It was the only way, very hypocritical. I know.”

Bucky nodded slowly, processing your words. He could see the logic in it, but there was something in your tone, in the way your eyes darkened when you spoke, that told him there was more to it than you were letting on.

“Do you regret it?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer immediately. Your gaze drifted back to the horizon, your expression unreadable.

“Regret is a luxury I can’t afford, Bucky,” you said finally. “Pierce needs to fall, and I did what I had to do to make that happen, for your freedom.”

“And yours. . .?” he asked, his voice quiet but insistent.

You stayed silent, your expression unchanged, but the slight tightening of your grip on the armrest didn’t escape Bucky’s notice. The question hung in the air, unanswered, and he realized that perhaps even you didn’t know the answer.

× × × ×

The next day.

The Quinjet landed softly in the clearing, its engines whirring down to a low hum as the dust settled around it. You stepped out first, scanning the familiar surroundings of your father’s old home. It was a place of memories, both comforting and haunting. The farmhouse had weathered time well, standing as a symbol of resilience, much like those who now sought refuge within its walls.

Bucky followed close behind, his eyes sweeping over the perimeter, ever vigilant. As they approached the entrance, one of your trusted agents—Agent Lawson—emerged from the shadows, his face grim.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” Lawson said, his tone respectful but tinged with urgency. “We’ve got intel. You need to see this.”

Your exchanged a brief glance with Bucky before nodding to Lawson. “Inside,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease growing within you.

You entered the farmhouse, the interior dimly lit but secure. The agent led them to a small room that had been converted into a makeshift command center. Maps, monitors, and files were spread across a large table, each detailing various aspects of their ongoing struggle against HYDRA.

Lawson handed you a tablet, his expression serious. “Ma’am, the Avengers went public with the exposure of HYDRA. It’s all over the news now. HYDRA’s operations within SHIELD are out in the open, and they’re scrambling.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took the tablet, the screen lighting up with a news feed. On it, you could see footage of Captain America, Steve Rogers, speaking directly to the camera in a broadcast that had gone out worldwide. But as you listened to his words, you quickly realized there was something that felt intimately directed at you.

“If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them,” Steve’s voice echoed through the room, his tone calm but behind it, something deeper—something only you would recognize. “I know I’m asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high; it always has been.”

Steve’s voice softened just slightly, a subtle change that might go unnoticed by most, but not by you. “And it’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he continued, his words lingering, as if speaking directly to you, “I’m not afraid to fight for what matters… or who matters.”

Your heart clenched at the unmistakable message, meant for you and you alone. “If I’m the only one, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

The screen froze on Steve’s face, his expression resolute, but his eyes—those eyes that you knew so well— carried a message meant just for you.

“They’ve dealt HYDRA a major blow, but Pierce is still out there,” Lawson continued, oblivious to the personal significance of Steve’s words. “He’s regrouping, and he’s made it clear that he’s coming after you, ma’am.”

You stared at the frozen image of Steve for a moment longer, your emotions swirling, threatening to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself. But then, with a sharp inhale, you forced those emotions down, locking them away where they couldn’t distract you.

Your face hardened as you shoved the tablet back into Lawson’s hands, your voice clipped and cold. “What’s Pierce planning?”

Lawson, slightly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor, quickly handed you a folder. “We intercepted some communications from what’s left of HYDRA’s network. Pierce is regrouping, but he’s been severely compromised.”

You opened the folder, your eyes quickly scanning the contents. As you read, your expression darkened further. “What’s his next move?” you asked, your tone flat, all traces of emotion wiped clean.

Lawson hesitated, his eyes flickering to Bucky before he spoke. “He’s going after you, ma’am. Pierce knows he’s lost control of HYDRA’s influence within SHIELD, but he’s not done yet. He’s activated something—something called Project Lazarus.”

“That bastard Stark was right,” You laughed but your grip on the folder tightened.

“He’s desperate,” you said quietly, your eyes narrowing as you pieced it together. “If he can’t control me, he’ll try to eliminate me. He’s betting everything on this failsafe.”

Lawson nodded. “We believe he’s mobilizing the remnants of HYDRA to locate and retrieve whatever information or technology is needed to activate it. If he gets his hands on it, you’ll be his primary target.”

“We need to find out exactly what and where this failsafe is and how to disable it.” you closed the folder with a snap, your expression cold and resolute. “Lawson, I want every available resource focused on this. Find out everything you can about Project Lazarus—what it is, where it’s stored, how it works. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lawson said, his voice firm as he prepared to carry out your orders.

Bucky stepped closer, the bad feeling bothering his mind increasing intensity. “Y/N, this is a trap. Racing Pierce for this failsafe… it’s exactly what he wants. He’s counting on you going after it, to put yourself in danger.”

“I don’t have a choice, Bucky. If he gets to it first, it’s over. We need to find out exactly what this failsafe is and how to disable it.”

Bucky’s hand twitched, his instincts screaming at him that something was terribly wrong.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted, his voice low and urgent. “There’s too much we don’t know. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. If you go after this, you’re walking right into his hands.”

“Not if we get to it first.” You lifted your hand and placed it over his cheek, “Trust me.”

Not even ten minutes passed by, Lawson returned, his expression urgent. “Ma’am, we’ve got the preliminary intel on Project Lazarus. It’s worse than we thought.”

Your eyes snapped to Lawson, all traces of emotion vanishing as you switched back into mission mode. “What did you find?”

Lawson handed you a small, encrypted drive. “It’s a self-destruct mechanism, embedded within the serum dna. If activated, it will kill the host instantly. Pierce’s plan is to get to the activation device before we can, and if he does...”

Y/N’s grip on the drive tightened, the weight of what Lawson was saying settling over her. “Then it’s game over,” you finished, your voice cold.

Bucky felt his chest tighten as he listened. “Y/N, this is exactly what I was talking about. You’re the one he’s targeting. He knows you’ll go after it, and he’s setting the trap.”

You looked down at the drive in your hand, the realization of what you were up against hitting you fully. But there was no hesitation in your voice when you spoke. “This is why we make sure he doesn’t get there first. We move fast, and we don’t give him the chance to spring his trap.”

“Lawson, get the team ready, we’re moving out in twenty.” You look back at Bucky, giving him a small reassuring smile before you get yourself prepared.

× × × ×

The war room at the Avengers Compound was buzzing with activity. Multiple holographic displays floated in midair, showing maps, satellite images, and streams of data that scrolled rapidly across the screens. The Avengers were gathered around the central table, their expressions tense and focused. Time was running out, and they all knew it.

Steve Rogers stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he surveyed the data being fed in by JARVIS. His eyes were sharp, determined, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in his posture. They had to find Pierce before it was too late.

“JARVIS, expand the search radius to include the most recent HYDRA activity,” Tony Stark ordered, his fingers flying over the controls on the table. A new map appeared, showing several locations highlighted in red.

“I have already cross-referenced known HYDRA safehouses and recent communications intercepts, sir,” JARVIS responded, his voice calm and efficient. “However, Mr. Pierce has been taking measures to cover his tracks. He is not using any of the usual channels.”

“We’re missing something,” Natasha Romanoff said, her voice thoughtful as she studied the data in front of her. “He wouldn’t just go dark. He’s got to be coordinating something big. There has to be a pattern.”

Bruce Banner leaned forward, adjusting his glasses as he examined a cluster of highlighted areas on the map. “What about his known associates? Anyone still in contact with him?”

“Most of them are either in custody or underground,” Natasha replied, shaking her head. “But there are a few we haven’t been able to track down. They could be his lifeline.”

Steve looked over at Sam Wilson, who was monitoring a live feed of communications traffic. “Sam, anything on your end?”

“Not much,” Sam said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But I did pick up a few encrypted messages that could be HYDRA-related. The problem is, they’re using a code we haven’t cracked yet.”

Tony’s fingers paused over the controls, and he turned to look at the team. “We don’t have time to play it safe. We need to flush him out. We hit those locations simultaneously and force him to react.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, nodding. “But we need to be smart about it. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Steve’s right,” Natasha added. “We go in, but we need to be prepared for anything.”

Just then, JARVIS’s voice cut through the tension. “I may have something, sir. I’ve detected a series of anomalous energy readings in an isolated area approximately fifty miles outside the city. The readings are consistent with the signature of a stealth HYDRA base.”

A holographic image zoomed in on the location, showing a heavily forested area with minimal infrastructure. The perfect place for someone like Pierce to lay low.

“That’s got to be him,” Clint Barton said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the terrain. “It’s secluded, hard to access, and easy to defend.”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Tony was already moving toward his suit, the familiar whirring of machinery filling the room as the armor began assembling around him. “JARVIS, prepare the Quinjet. We’re wheels up in five.”

The rest of the team sprang into action, suiting up and gathering their gear. The sense of urgency in the room was palpable—this was it. The moment they had been waiting for.

As they headed toward the hangar, Steve couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. They had the location, they had the team, but there was still an unknown element at play—something that Pierce was counting on. They had to be ready for whatever he had planned.

In the Quinjet, the team settled into their positions, the hum of the engines vibrating through the floor as they prepared for takeoff. Steve stood at the front, his hands gripping the back of the pilot’s seat as he stared out at the darkening sky.

“We go in fast and hard,” he said, addressing the team. “We neutralize any resistance and secure Pierce. But keep your eyes open—this could be a trap.”

“Isn’t it always?” Natasha remarked, a hint of wry humor in her voice as she checked her weapons.

Tony turned to face the team, his visor down, but his voice clear through the comms. “Remember, Pierce knows how we operate. We need to stay one step ahead.”

The Quinjet lifted off smoothly, banking toward the coordinates JARVIS had provided. As they flew toward what they hoped would be the final confrontation with Pierce, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, preparing mentally for what was to come.

Steve’s mind, however, drifted to Y/N and Bucky. He knew they were out there too, likely chasing the same target. His grip tightened on the seat. He hoped they’d stay out of each other’s way, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t likely.

As the Quinjet sped through the night, Steve glanced around at his team, each one of them ready to face whatever lay ahead. This was the moment they’d been preparing for. There was no turning back now.

“Approaching the target location,” Sam announced from the cockpit, bringing Steve’s focus back to the mission. “We’re going in.”

Steve took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle to come. “Let’s finish this.”

The Quinjet descended toward the forest below, and the Avengers braced themselves for the confrontation that would determine the fate of their mission—and possibly much more.

The air inside the abandoned HYDRA facility was thick with tension. Dust and debris lined the cold metal floors, remnants of a once formidable operation. Now, it was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of electricity still pulsing through the aging wires. The Avengers moved cautiously, their steps echoing through the empty corridors.

Steve Rogers led the team, his shield at the ready, as they approached the central chamber. His instincts told him they were close—too close for comfort. The door to the chamber slid open with a hiss, revealing a large, dimly lit room. And there, at the center, stood Bucky and you.

The Avengers froze, surprise flickering across their faces as they took in the sight of the two figures. Bucky’s stance was tense, defensive, while you stood beside him, your gaze throwing daggers.

“Well, well, well,” Tony Stark’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with sarcasm. “Look who decided to crash the party. You two got lost on your way to a HYDRA reunion?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you eyed Tony. “Funny, Stark. I was going to say the same thing about you. Shouldn’t you be off with your lab toys or something? Or is this just another Tuesday for you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his suit whirring softly as he adjusted his stance. “Oh, you know me, always multitasking. But I gotta admit, seeing you two here is a bit of a plot twist. Care to explain what’s going on, or are we doing this the hard way?”

Bucky’s eyes darted between you and the Avengers, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He didn’t like how outnumbered you were, and he especially didn’t like the idea of a fight breaking out with Steve standing just a few feet away.

You kept your gaze locked on Tony, a hint of a smirk still playing on your lips. “Trust me, Stark, you don’t want to do this the hard way. We’re not here for you. But we’re also not here for a social call.”

Steve, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward, his shield raised slightly. “Y/N, Bucky, We’re here to take down Pierce. You’re either with us or against us.”

Your eyes flicked to Steve, your smirk fading as your expression hardened. “We’re here for the same reason, Rogers. But our priority isn’t taking down Pierce. It’s beating him first.”

Tony tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “And what, pray tell, what could be worse than letting that slimeball run free? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re cozying up to the wrong side.”

Before you could respond, a slow clap echoed through the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention to the shadows. From the darkness, Pierce emerged, a smirk plastered on his face as he surveyed the scene.

“Well, isn’t this touching?” Pierce drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “The Avengers, all united in their righteousness, and yet… here you are, just as powerless as ever.”

The Avengers immediately shifted their focus to Pierce, weapons ready, but the tension in the air remained palpable. Your body tensed, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto Pierce.

Steve took a step forward, his voice stern. “Pierce, it’s over. Surrender now, and maybe we can work something out.”

Pierce laughed, a cold, humorless sound that echoed through the chamber. “Oh, Steve. Always the optimist. But you’re wrong. It’s not over. In fact, it’s just beginning.”

He raised a small device in his hand, his thumb hovering over a button. “You all really thought you could stop me? After everything HYDRA has built? The world may see me as a traitor now, but I’m not the one who’s lost here. You are.”

Pierce’s eyes shifted to you, his expression darkening with malicious glee. “And you, Y/N… the precious little weapon we created. Did you really think you could escape us? That you could fight back and win? You’re a tool, nothing more. And like any tool, when you’ve outlived your usefulness, you get discarded.”

Your jaw clenched, but you remained silent, your mind racing. You could see the cold resolve in Pierce’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that he was ready to press the button at any moment.

Pierce continued, enjoying every moment of his twisted power. “This—this is my failsafe. Our failsafe. HYDRA always plans for every eventuality, and you, Y/N, were no exception. One press of this button, and everything you are, everything we made you, ends.”

Steve’s heart sank as Pierce’s words sunk in. The realization hit him hard—Pierce wasn’t just threatening everyone, he was threatening your life. Panic flashed across Steve’s face, and he took another step forward, his voice urgent and desperate. “Pierce, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA promised you, it’s not worth it. Just… put the remote down, and we can figure this out.”

Pierce’s smirk widened, relishing the fear he saw in Steve’s eyes. “Oh, Captain. You think you can negotiate with me? That’s adorable. But you see, I’ve already won. You’re too late to stop me.”

Steve shook his head, his voice breaking as he pleaded, “You don’t have to end her like this. If it’s me you want, take me. Just don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want—just put the remote down.”

For a brief moment, Pierce seemed to consider Steve’s words, tilting his head as if weighing his options. Then, a cold, cruel smile twisted his lips. “You think I’d trade her life for yours? How noble of you, Captain. But no, this isn’t about you. This is about making sure she never defies us again. It’s about sending a message.”

Steve’s desperation turned to anger as he tried one last time. “Pierce, if you do this, there’s no coming back. You’ll lose everything. We’ll make sure of it. Just… don’t press that button. We can find another way—”

But Pierce’s thumb was already pressing down.

To Steve, it felt like the world slowed to a crawl. The small, mechanical click of the button echoed in his ears like a gunshot, louder than anything he’d ever heard. His heart pounded, time moving painfully slow as the full reality of what was happening crushed down on him.

“No!” Steve’s voice ripped through the chamber, filled with anguish and fear. He lunged forward, but it was too late. The failsafe activated, and your body reacted instantly.

Your body jerked violently as if a surge of electricity had just shot through your veins. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening in shock and pain. You tried to reach out, to grab onto something, anything, to steady yourself but your strength drained from you like water through a sieve. You staggered, your legs buckling beneath you as you collapsed to the ground. Your vision blurred, but you fought for as long as you could, looking at Bucky who assisted you to collapse gently on the floor.

“No!” Steve’s voice was frantic, the raw pain in it reverberating through the room. He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling your convulsing form in his arms as if by holding you close, he could somehow stop the inevitable. “No, no, no, please, Y/N! Stay with me, stay with me!”

But you, through the haze of pain and the encroaching darkness, knew what you had to do. You turned your head slightly, focusing on Bucky. Your voice was weak, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Bucky… run. You have to… run. Don’t… look back.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in confusion, refusal written all over his face. “What? No, I’m not leaving you—”

“Go!” Your voice cracked with desperation as you struggled to maintain consciousness. “Go, Bucky! Now!”

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, torn between his instinct to fight and his need to protect you. But then Pierce’s smug smile caught his eye, and something inside him snapped. With a roar of pure rage, Bucky’s metal arm slammed into Pierce, sending him crashing to the ground.

The fight was brutal, savage. Bucky’s fury was unleashed in every punch, every strike. Pierce barely had time to react before Bucky was on him, his fists a blur of metal and flesh, pummeling the life out of him.

Pierce’s screams echoed through the chamber, but Bucky didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until Pierce was nothing but a lifeless, broken mess on the floor. Panting, his vision clouded with rage and grief, Bucky finally looked up, his eyes locking onto your still form, cradled in Steve’s arms. The sight tore at his soul, but your final command echoed in his mind.

Run.

Without another word, Bucky turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows before the Avengers could even think to stop him.

Steve didn’t notice Bucky’s departure. His entire world had narrowed to you—your lifeless body, the cold stillness of your form in his arms. He rocked back and forth slightly, his grip tightening as if he could hold onto your life, refusing to let it slip away. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his mind reeling with disbelief and sorrow.

The other Avengers stood around him, silent and stunned, the gravity of what had just happened sinking in. They had all faced countless dangers before, but this felt different.

This felt final.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, a guttural cry of anguish that echoed through the chamber, filled with a depth of sorrow that none of them had ever heard from him before.

“Y/N!” he cried out, his voice trembling, pleading with a world that seemed to have gone cold and unfeeling. “Please, don’t leave me. You can’t… no…no…please.”

He cradled you closer, his tears falling unchecked, soaking into your hair. Every fiber of his being screamed against what was happening. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. Not for her, not like this. The injustice of it tore at him, threatening to pull him apart.

But you didn’t respond. Your body remained still, your face peaceful, as if you had simply gone to sleep. The life that had burned so brightly within you was gone, extinguished by the cruel machinations of those who had sought to control you. He couldn’t stop the sob that tore from his throat, his anguish laid bare for all to see.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice breaking with every word.

The chamber seemed to grow colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. Time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten, as they all stood in the aftermath of a battle that had been lost in the most devastating way possible.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally stepped forward, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “Steve…” he began, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say? There was no comfort, no way to undo what had been done.

Steve didn’t respond. His focus was entirely on you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He couldn’t comprehend a world without you in it. He didn’t want to.

Finally, after a long, painful silence, Natasha spoke, her voice soft but firm. “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

Steve nodded numbly, but he didn’t move. It took all of his strength to gather himself enough to even consider letting you go. He didn’t want to let you go. The idea of it was unbearable. But he knew Natasha was right. They couldn’t leave you here, not in this place, not like this.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Steve slowly stood, cradling you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing in the world—because to him, you were. He turned toward the exit, his steps heavy, each one feeling like it might be his last.

Steve couldn’t help but glance back one last time, as if hoping to see some sign that this wasn’t real—that you would wake up, that this nightmare would end. But there was nothing. Just the emptiness of a place that had taken so much from them.

They stepped out into the daylight, the sun glaringly bright against the backdrop of their sorrow. Steve’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart breaking all over again.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. “I always will.”

But there was no answer, no sign of life. You were gone, and the world felt infinitely colder because of it.

So they left, carrying with him a loss that would never fully heal, a wound that would forever mark him. Steve walked with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimmed by the grief that had taken hold of him.

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eriexplosion · 7 months ago

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Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #could not sleep so I'm in my feels instead #it did help to type it out #I'm not going anywhere fandom wise but I have to admit I'm hurt

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prismatica-the-strange · 2 months ago

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Graveyard Flowers | There's a Look in Your Eyes, I Know Just What that Means

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), thigh riding, sex with very little plot, Beej SWEARS he's not 'in love' with Rosie.

Beetlejuice wants to play with his favorite breather, but she's too distracted by some stupid video game. He'll just have to do something to get her attention on him.

Starting spooky season off right with some nasty sex with the dear guy.

The truly scary part is the likes to reblogs ratio!

Whore by In This Moment

"You done yet?" BJ pesters and Rosie shoots a small glare at him.

"I'll be done when I'm done," She snaps, going back to her game.

He watches her click away, fingers pressing keys quickly, but the quiet doesn't last.

"How long you plan on making me wait?"

"Beetlejuice!" This has been going on for almost an hour now, and normally she'd indulge him, but she's really in the zone, "Can't you go annoy someone else for a while? I'm trying to unlock this new emote for Maul."

"Yeah? Like who? I can't get in Nik's room without his express permission, and Alice is out on a date!" He argues, leaning down next to her face, "You're the only one left."

He runs his tongue up her cheek, making her grimace as she pushes him away.

"Then find some other way to amuse yourself."

The mouse in her hand gets fuzzy and squeaks.

"You know that's not what I meant, change it back."

"Aw, cone on," He cradles the little brown mouse in his hands, "It's so much cuter this way!"

"Beetlejuice."

"Fine," It pops back where it was, same as it was before.

He huffs as he flops back on her bed, "Well what do you expect me to do? This house is fucking boring!"

"Figure it out!" She growls.

He watches her play for a little bit more, an idea forming in his head when she shifts in her chair.

The next thing she knows, she's on his lap, her back pressed against his chest. He's sitting in her computer chair with his arms around her stomach.

He doesn't move to annoy her further, so she lets it be, but then she feels one of his hands snake its way down between her legs. He snaps his fingers and her pajama pants disappear, leaving her in her loose tee and boyshorts.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You told me to occupy myself," He shrugs, fingers quickly finding her clit through her underwear, "That's what I'm doing, entertaining myself with your pretty pussy."

"This isn't what I meant either," She feels herself flush, but she won't give him the satisfaction of distracting her, two can play this game, "Whatever, you're impossible."

He presses harder when she goes back to her game, tongue gliding up the side of her neck.

He grins when teases her hole through the, now, damp fabric and she jolts, "You like this, don't you?"

She grits her teeth, but continues ignoring him.

He hooks his finger in the front of her panties and tugs, the fabric rubbing roughly against her clit, making her whine.

"Can't ignore me if you're beggin' me to cum, dollface," He teases.

"Pervert," Her breath shallows, but she doesn't give in.

He scowls when she goes back to force-choking rebels as if nothing happened. Time to play dirty.

He snaps his fingers again and her panties slide themselves down her legs until they're hanging off one ankle. He pulls her back against him and tugs her legs apart, hooking them over the armrests of the chair.

"Beej, I can't reach the keyboard-"

He rolls his eyes and the keys to the controls pop off the board, floating within a comfortable reach with her mouse.

"There, now would you shut it?" He shakes his head when she starts typing away despite the compromising position he has her in.

He presses his fingers against her clit again, circling it a few times before teasing her hole again, "That's better, yeah? Got better access to play with your drippy cunt?"

Radio silence and he starts getting genuinely annoyed.

Her whole body tenses when the tips of his fingers vibrate against her clit for a moment.

"Yeah? You like that?" He does it again, making her jaw drop, "Of course you fucking do."

He pinches her clit with his buzzing fingers and she whimpers, her head falling back against his shoulder.

She's quick to catch herself though, taking a deep breath and trying to concentrate on her objective.

"What was that? You want 'em abusing your g-spot instead?" He chuckles, running his digits all over her slit, "I can do that, princess."

"F-fuck!" Her vision goes out of focus for a moment when he slides his fingers inside her, still vibrating as he scissors them before seeking out-

"There it is," He laughs when her hips buck, "Aw, but now you're little clitty looks so sad that she's bein' ignored. Here, lemme just..."

She feels his tongue stretch down beneath the collar of her shirt, teasing her nipples before sliding down to lap at her already sensitive clit.

"Beej..." She chokes out, trembling in his hold. She cries out louder when the tip of his tongue starts vibrating too, her back arching.

She barely registers what's happening before she cums.

"Fuck- Beetlejuice!"

His tongue works faster.

"Beetlejuice!" She screams again when he doesn't let up. Hell, he starts finger fucks her harder, just to hear it again, "Beetlejuice!"

There it is. The only good thing he gets out of this whole stupid arrangement, getting to hear her chant his name like a prayer when he forces another orgasm out of her without getting banished.

His tongue retracts into his mouth and he moans when the taste of her slick fills his mouth, "That's my nasty girl."

His fingers stop vibrating as he eases her through her high. She shudders when he pulls out, knees falling back together as he laps at his fingers.

Suddenly she's sat by herself and he's lounging on her bed.

"Consider me entertained," He says between sucking her cum off his fingers, "You can go back to your game now."

"Wh- Beej!"

"Yeeees, darlin'?" He smirks at her.

She forces herself out of the chair, wobbling dangerously when she realizes she can't really feel her legs, "Shit-"

"Careful!" He sneers, appearing beside her to keep her upright, "Don't need you dentin' that empty head'a yours."

She's been long since disconnected from her server, but she doesn't care. She's content being cum drunk and held up by him.

"Exactly," He chuckles, "Come on, let's lay you down before you hurt yourself.

She pulls him into bed with her, ignoring his grumbles of protest when she snuggles in against his chest.

"Yeah whatever," He mutters, knowing he'd be flushed red if he were alive, "Get comfy why don't'cha?"

"On it," She sighs sleepily.

He snaps his fingers and her game switches over to some shitty b horror film.

About an hour in he feels he slide one leg over his hips and nuzzle closer. Then her hips shift, and his face breaks into a wicked grin.

"Is that right?"

She whimpers at his teasing, softly grinding against his thigh.

"Just a lil' sex pest, huh?" He laughs, pressing himself against her cunt, "Can't get enough, can ya?"

She grips the striped lapel of his jacket, eyes squeezing shut. Her little sighs of pleasure make his chest swell. Damn, does he love his perverted little breather.

Well, not love per se, I mean, he loves Lydia, but... he's definitely extremely fond of her and her delightfully pervy ways.

"Don't stop, girlie," He places his hand encouragingly on the small of her back, his nails digging into her skin, "That's it..."

She gasps when she rocks her hips particularly hard, her whole body shaking.

She's warm in his hold, fuck he loves feeling her burning face on his chest.

He tugs her on top of him, pushing his thigh up between her legs. She moans at the feeling and he pulls her face up to meet his, licking into her open mouth.

"Babygirl, you're soakin' my pants," He grins, biting at her bottom lip, "Had my tongue all over that pussy earlier, you want it down your throat now?"

Her eyes light up at that, and he grips her cheeks, forcing her mouth open to slither an abnormally long tongue down her throat.

His free hand grinds her down on his thigh, chuckling when she shudders at the added stimulation.

She's so pretty when she lets him use her like this, even prettier when she uses him right back.

He's so lost in her fucked out expression he almost doesn't notice her tapping his chest for air.

"Heh, sorry 'bout that," He presses his forehead to hers as she sucks in deep breaths, "Must'a gotten caught up in the moment."

She just surges forward to press kiss him, her lips parting to delve her tongue in his mouth this time, one hand roughly gripping his hair to keep him close.

Okay, maybe... MAYBE he loves her... just a little bit! I mean, come on. How is he not supposed to fall for her when her response is to kiss him like that.

He doesn't taste good, and she hates that she's used to it.

She groans when he holds her close in turn, his grip tight on the back of her neck.

By the time she's humped herself out she's exhausted, and he has no problem letting her fall asleep on his chest. Even if it means he has to clean her up and redress her with his powers.

She's heavy on his chest and he can feel every breath, every little twitch. He runs his fingers through her hair and she nuzzles closer in her sleep.

"Think I'm getting in a bit too deep here," He mutters to himself, "... Shit."

#Graveyard flowers #prisma self ships #prisma writes #self ship smut #Beetlejuice x oc #beetlejuice x reader

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pastel-peach-writes · 4 months ago

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Face Paints | Aloy x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: With someone who wears intricate face paints such as Aloy, she needs someone to assist her, right?

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

"Aloy," you breathed out. Your girlfriend had sat herself in front of a mirror with an absurd amount of paints and dyes scattered around her. She had a big white blob on her face and scribbled on her arms. What she was doing looked messy like an accident or like she used her body as a cloth between brushes.

With a shaky hand and her face even closer to the mirror, she huffed. "It's fine. I'm fine." The redhead used her other hand to stabilize the hand painting her face. Her jaw relaxed and her eyes grew wide in concentration.

You walked over, shaking your head as you saw how much of a mess she made on her skin. "You are anything but. Here." Sat in front of her, you pry the brush out of her hands and grab her paints.

"Hey, I was using that!"

"Yeah. Poorly." You cleaned the small brush with some water and wiped the remains on the cloth. Aloy huffed again, watching as you primed and prepared the brush for a more accurate painting session.

The girl was fine doing the paints herself. She was taught by Rost when she was younger and has done her own since then. She didn't need her partner to do it for her. Although, she did like the thought of being face-to-face with you. Or watching your face of concentration when you did the intricate designs on her arm.

Maybe you painting her wouldn't be all bad.

With the brush properly loaded with paint and water, you smiled up at her. You used the pad of your thumb to wipe away her previous attempts before resting the side of your pinky on her cheek. "It's gonna be cold so I'll need you to be still, okay?"

Aloy deadpanned, though a soft smile peeked through the corners of her mouth. "I know how to be still. This isn't my first face paint."

You shrugged, smiling wider due to her expression. "Oh, I know. I still need to preface you because what I'm going to do is so detailed and refined that it's going to take some time. So," you pressed the brush to the bridge of her nose. "Stay. Still."

Stay still, she did. For the most part, Aloy is pretty behaved. She only breaks the rules, what? Like, two to three times a day? And she only does it because she's trying to help people. Not for the hell of it. Aloy likes to call herself a rebel with a cause.

As you painted her face, Aloy stared into your eyes with her bright green eyes. Through the sparkle in your eye, Aloy could also see how concentrated you were. She didn't understand why you were adamant about doing her face paint. She's capable of doing it on her own and has done more complicated paint on her lonesome.

However, the more she stared and the more you painted, she started to realize this was less about the paint. You wanted to paint her face because you wanted to do an act of service for her.

You didn't care if she'd done her own before or didn't need your help, you wanted to help her. Take something off her shoulders and spend time with her. Plus, who in the hell passes up time to be face-to-face with your partner?

"How's it going?" Aloy's rasped voice spoke in a whisper. A slight smile crept onto your lips as you heard her voice. You were so immersed in the face paints that you forgot to speak and forgot you could speak. Aloy's voice was soft enough to pull you out of deep concentration but was quiet enough to not startle or mess you up.

"Good," you whispered back. You carefully used two fingers to tilt her head to the other side. With the left side of her cheek done, it was time to do the right. In white paint, you painted rectangular scales. The scales mimicked a futuristic dinosaur's as if the machines that ruled the planet wore some silicone skin to protect their wires and inner workings.

If they had skin, Aloy wouldn't be able to override them as easily. Oh well. Sucks for them.

"I'm almost done with this side," you whispered, your words slow as you concentrated on painting your girlfriend's face.

Aloy almost shook her head in protest but remembered that any movement would fuck your painting up. "No," she blurted in a whisper. She reminded herself to take a breath, an embarrassed smile on her lips. "I mean, take your time. I like being here with you."

You pulled away, your brows furrowed in puzzlement. With a head tilt, you removed the brush on her face. "But I thought you had to meet a village woman to help her find her adult son."

Aloy shrugged, her embarrassed smile growing into a smug one as she looked at your knowing face. "If I had enough time to get my face painted, I could spend a little more time staring into my partner's eyes while they paint me. Right?"

Aloy's smirk only grew when the subtle hint of being flustered peaked through your smile.

Twirling the skinny paintbrush in your fingers, you leaned back in your spot, your gaze piqued an interest in the things next to you. "I mean, I guess so," your sentence ended on a particularly high note.

Laughter filled the air. Aloy grabbed your wrists, pulling her closer to you. "Okay, so resume!" she continued to laugh. "Stop being all cute and finish what you started."

"Stop!" You playfully swatted her shoulder. She faked a wince and held the spot you hit.

"Ow!"

"Oh, please. You ate plants stronger than that hit." Aloy eye-rolled as you leaned back to resume her painting.

Aloy was right. Taking your time as you painted her face felt different than rushing to paint her face. You could seriously examine every textured bit of her skin, perfect your lines, and take shameless gawks at how beautiful she was; little freckles on her face, red cheeks from the sun, and baby hairs on the side of her face, right by her ear.

When you were done, you pecked Aloy on her lips. Much to her surprise.

"What...? What was that for?" she asked, her shy smile revealing her teeth. You shrugged. You swished the paintbrush in the cup of water before taking it out to dry off.

You grabbed a damp cloth to wipe your hands. "I don't know. A prize for sitting so well."

The girl scoffed, her arms crossed across her chest in playful defense. "I always sit well."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. You grabbed a shard of glass, its edges carefully protected with twine and decorated with leaves and pieces of gold that were found in rivers. "Aloy, you can barely last when people go on tangents. Here."

Aloy took the makeshift mirror from you, going to scoff again but when she caught a glimpse of her appearance, her jaw dropped. "Wow, I..." Aloy's voice trailed off as she brought a careful hand to her face.

"Careful," you warned as you stood. "It's still wet. It'll dry on your way."

Aloy matched your stance, her attention still on herself in the mirror. You did this in what, ten minutes? And her face has never been as skillfully painted before. Between the rectangular scales, there were dots and sometimes squiggles.

On the bridge of her nose was a thick white line and a circle of paint on the bulbous part of her nose. You also painted a "V" between her brows with two dots, inside and on either side.

"This is amazing." Aloy finally met your gaze, smiles both resting on each other's lips. "Thank you." She engulfed you in a hug, some of her armor and clothes poking at your own but you've gotten used to the feeling.

"You're welcome." You melted into her touch. Your eyes closed as your hands squeezed around her back and waist. "Just be careful when you're out there, okay?" Your whisper lingered on her earlobe as you pulled away to meet her eye.

Aloy gave you a smile. She shimmed her shoulders, playfulness oozing from her. "Oh, please. When am I ever not careful?" You laughed and shoved her shoulders although there was no malicious intent behind your actions.

"Go before I wipe that smirk off your face."

"Oh," Aloy grinned as she gathered her items from the nearby table. "You promise?"

You laughed louder. "Go!"

"Okay, okay. I'm going! Love you!"

With the quick motion of a kiss, Aloy left with her face freshly painted and her heart warm from the brief, yet intimate moment she had with her partner.

WC: 1,464

#pastel-peach-writes #pastel peach writes #gender-neutral terms #gender neutral terms #aloy fanfic #aloy x reader #hzd aloy #aloy horizon #aloy #hfw aloy #horizon zero dawn fanfic #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #horizon forbidden west fanfic #hfw #hzd

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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In dark corners is fucking AMAZING… it’s insane. It’s too good. Died a little on the inside when I saw it’s the only Sirius fic you’ve written. So talented.

I know this technically wasn't a request and you may not even know I was about to do my sleepover but I decided I really ought to write another sirius fic! so, here's a drabble just for you with young!sirius just to mix it up <3

warnings: smut (18+ only please), oral f receiving, a bit of dubcon but it's just hesitance, shy!reader, teasing, sirius being cocky as fuck, discussions of arranged marriage, bi!reader, very brief implied homophobia (not by sirius of course) and mention of blood status discrimination

"Well, they didn't lie," he decided with crossed arms and a tilted head, "you are pretty."

You nervously wrung your hands, glancing down briefly at your leather loafers as they shifted slightly on the study's hardwood floor— freshly waxed, your shoes and the floor. Everything had been prepared so carefully for this moment, the moment that you were meeting the man that might (hopefully) become your husband.

Apparently, they'd told him you were pretty, but you figured that was only part of their long matchmaking speech: a good, pureblooded girl from a respected family, distinguished and ladylike, demure, and at the perfect age to bear children!

You got a speech, too, but you knew half of it was a lie. You'd heard stories about Sirius long before you were taken here to be presented to him: stories of a rebel, a wild young man up to all kinds of things he shouldn't be. It made you even more intimidated to be standing in front of him, watching the way he watched you.

"Th-thank you, sir," you mumbled quietly, finally reacting to his compliment, and he smirked just a bit.

"I hear you've got excellent marks at Hogwarts," he continued, "straight Os, no?"

You got excited to brag about that, and perked up: "Yes, sir," you agreed.

He frowned. "Seems like a waste," he said. You sighed, unsure how you could've disappointed him with that but too afraid to ask. "Don't you get up to any fun?"

You blinked quickly, unsure how to answer. "I read for fun, sir— mostly wizarding history but some stories, too—"

"Why do you keep calling me 'sir'? Do you think I'm your teacher or something?"; when you looked at him again, you realised he was standing closer than you thought. It made you aware of how much taller he was than you, how inquisitive his eyes were, how soft his lips looked—

"I'm sorry— it's just how I was raised, sir— er, Mister Black— I call any man 'sir'..."

"Well, I'm not much of a man, am I?" he noticed, smiling. "Only twenty-one. And you, barely finished with your final year of school— you're hardly a woman."

You swallowed thickly, feeling you'd disappointed him again.

"Your parents assured me, in fact, that no one had... made a woman of you, so to speak," he added. "I knew better than to believe that— parents never know anything. But looking at you now, how nervous you are... I almost could believe it."

Your face got warm, not sure exactly what he meant but certainly getting an idea of the spirit of it.

He stepped closer again, so close you could smell his cologne, and your heartbeat picked up. "So, when I ask what kind of fun you've gotten up to," he continued, voice lowered, "I don't mean reading dusty old tomes."

You dared to look up at him, your lips parting as you tried to think what you should say.

"Look at you," he chuckled mockingly, running his fingers over your jawline, "you've probably never done a naughty thing in your life."

Feeling defensive, you knitted your eyebrows and returned, "Have to!"

You hated how childish you sounded, but he seemed to like it— or at least be amused by it. "Prove it, then," he challenged.

"I— I kissed two different boys this year," you said proudly, and he put on an impressed expression.

"Two boys? In one year? Merlin's beard, what a slut!" he said sarcastically, and even if he was joking you tensed up at that word.

"I... I kissed a girl, too," you added more softly, and he raised his brows. "Eileen Walsh... a girl in my year, a Ravenclaw... it was her idea, but we kissed for a few minutes in a potions closet—"

"Hm, alright," he nodded, finally seeming impressed, "the potions closet is more naughty than the girl-kissing, you know. Where someone could've caught you."

Your face kept getting warmer as your mind split its attention between memories of Eileen— red hair tickling your shoulder, freckled fingers petting over your breasts through your sweater vest, shelves pressing into your back as she pressed into you— and Sirius standing before you now with his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"If you only like girls, maybe we can make a deal then," he offered. "I'll agree to the marriage and if you want, you can go on kissing girls without any of the worry about your parents, since you've got a nice husband to keep them distracted—"

"N-no, I like boys too," you insisted, "I even... I let one touch me, you know... there."

His smile grew into a wide, toothy grin. "There, huh?"

You nearly jumped when his fingers brushed over your dress, starting at your side and trailing lower slowly— teasingly.

"Will you let me touch you there?" he whispered, lips right against your ear.

"I-if we're to be married," you mitigated, and he gave you a sort of offended look.

"So you'll let students cop a feel, but I can only touch you if we're engaged?" he noticed.

"Yes," you decided, "I should've— I should have never let them— but I was just so—"

"So... desperate," he finished for you as his fingers moved down your your thigh, teasing you with the possibility that he might really reach under your dress. "I can understand that. But if you're supposed to be my wife, I need to really see you, don't I?"

Your thighs pressed together. "See me?"

"Under your dress," he explained; you shivered a little.

"I— our parents are downstairs," you recalled, "in the parlour— if we tried to— they might—"

"Shh, they won't come up," he promised, his hand suddenly dipping under your dress' hem and grabbing onto your thigh; you gasped, your hands reaching up to hold his shoulders as he pet your skin just above the top of your stockings. "They want me to have time alone with you, to decide if I'll finally give in to one of their arrangements. As long as you can keep quiet, they won't know a thing, darling."

Darling. The way that made you bite your lip was proof of how badly you wanted to be his wife already, just to have him call you that again.

His hands suddenly moved up to the back of your dress, unbuttoning it. You definitely shouldn't have let him, but you were charmed in a way much stronger than a literal charm could do— you were already so eager to please him, maybe that was just the raised as much as your compulsion to call him 'sir'.

It wasn't much longer until your dress was on the floor around your loafers, and you were left in your bra and panties, plus the stockings of course.

"Saving yourself for marriage with a body like this," he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Now that's a shame."

"I'm sure my husband will appreciate that I waited for him," you decided, though your voice sounded shaky and breathless in a way you hadn't expected.

You gasped as he pushed you up against the credenza behind you, shoving some things off and out of the way so he could sit you on it and spread your legs. "Maybe I do," he admitted.

"S-so, you want to agree to the arrangement, then?" you realised, looking down at him with wide eyes.

He smiled at you, starting to hook a finger into your panties to pull them to the side. "If you please me," he bargained.

And a moment later, he dove in with a sloppy, hungry kiss to your cunt; whining right away, you found yourself arching your back up off the wall and tangling your fingers into his hair. "S-sirius!" you sighed. "I— oh, we shouldn't be— can't it wait until—?"

"Couldn't fucking wait," he responded before you'd finished (not that there was any hope of you getting that sentence out), mumbling against your sensitive skin. "Had to taste you, darling."

Every time he licked up your cunt, your whole body shook— you really had no excuse for being so sensitive, maybe it was all your nerves since you'd gotten to the Black residence... maybe it was that you'd been waiting far too long for someone to really pleasure you like this.

He hummed happily against you, moaned even, as he took tight grip of your thighs and suckled harder at your swelling clit.

"Oh, fuck—" you whimpered, feeling him smile when you said a bad word.

Apparently hoping to hear it again, he slipped two fingers inside you like it was nothing at all— because it was, with how wet you were.

"Fuck!" you yelped, fulfilling his wish, and he shut his eyes as he used his fingers and mouth in perfect harmony to absolute drown you in pleasure; it was only this one small portion of your body he was touching, but you felt it all over you— gooseflesh, waves of shivers and shocks, your toes curling inside your fucking stupid loafers.

"Not too loud, darling," he reminded you with a smirk, breaking away from your clit but keeping his fingers twisting inside you.

"Oh, shut up," you hissed, grabbing him by the hair and guiding him back to his work. He could've punished you for your insolence if he wanted, taken his fingers away and only given teasing licks to your bud until you apologised, but instead he just smiled proudly and got back to it— if anything he was more aggressive than before, guiding you right to the edge as he speared his fingers harder and faster into you. "I'm— fuck, m'close, Sirius, please don't stop— g'na come, please—"

He moaned against you— what a lovely sound that was— and kept going even more fiercely until it all cracked and you were melting onto that credenza: drips of arousal ran down his hand and chin, down your thighs to stain your stocks, and he lapped at them with eager abandon.

"F-fuck, wait," you whimpered when it all became too much at once, pushing him away by that thoroughly-mussed mop of chestnut hair. He grinned up at you with a slick, shining smile, and you felt a bit embarrassed as you sobered up enough to realise how whorish you'd really been.

"Yes, I think this will make for a fun engagement," he deciding, still panting, still on his knees before you. "But, let's get you dressed before we tell the parents."

#30k sleepover #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #request #marauders sirius x reader

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rocking-space-dragon · 1 year ago

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No but I need to emphasize how different everything that happened with Philza was in regards to his "Kidnapping" (I'll explain why I'm putting that in air quotes in a moment) and why I'm still losing my shit about it.

For one, it's the DISTANCE. I've been looking through every other instance of kidnapping - it's almost always at spawn or at the federation building, or if they're thrown in jail it's instantaneous, like a bag thrown over someone's head. Phil's WASN'T. It was a note that directed him 10,000 blocks away, next to a waystone that only he has, telling him not to bring anything. They WANT him alone, isolated and out of the way, but not in the same way as the others; they don't want to deal with him, they just want him GONE.

That brings me to my next point - the notes. Other notes have just been passwords, coordinates, ect - but not for Philza. They wrote an entire story, taunted him, BLAMED him for not being there for his children, then told him to leave everything behind and come to the coordinates. It almost reads more than a ransom note than the usual Federation instructions. Then, when he gets there? It's another one. His own words, TAUNTING him, LAUGHING at him.

And again, we move onto the next point - the BIRDHOUSE. This isn't normal. The Federation doesn't DO this. Everyone else was taken to existing buildings, the underground complex, the prison, but Phil? Not Phil. They built an ENTIRE BIRDHOUSE for him, lured him inside with the promise of his children and left him caged and alone - far from everyone, far from his friends, his home, ANYTHING. This is PERSONAL.

This brings me to my last point - whenever someone else is "Kidnapped" they get kicked - something done to show their character has been knocked out, or taken in some way. Phil, though? He wasn't. He wasn't knocked out, he wasn't frozen, nothing like that.

He's still there.

Alone. Beating against the walls, surrounded by caged birds he can't free, in a cage he can't escape, with no possible way of getting out or getting into contact with people. He's trapped in every sense of the word, and there's nothing he can do but just watch the days tick by as madness sets in - because that's what happens when you trap a bird in a cage.

This isn't the usual Federation way of doing things. This is a demonstration; they're making an EXAMPLE of him, because he rebelled. He attacked their building, he demanded answers, and they showed him that THAT'S NOT HOW THINGS WORK ON QUESADILLA ISLAND.

This isn't a Kidnapping, it's a Punishment - and who knows if Phil is going to be the same if/when they're done?

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp federation #qsmp kidnapping #qsmp phil #qsmp census bureau #qsmp cucurucho

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wistfulforstars · 2 months ago

Text

For What It's Worth - Part 7

Rex x Reader

Apologies for the long break! Life has been kicking my ass lately! Enjoy me putting Rex through another high-stakes situation!

Summary: Rex preps for the pro-clone rally, you would like him to stop treating you like an invalid already, the big day arrives, and all hell breaks loose

Warnings: Minors begone, The *plot* continues (I'm almost done teasing y'all, I promise), reader is afab, general violence, mobs gonna mob, I play fast and loose with CG protocol, Rex doesn't deserve this stress, mentions of sex, some attempts at sex were made, but Rex's will is made of steel, cliffhanger-y and I apologize, I didn't mean for the plot to plot this much

Tag List: @bambiswriting @jessyhazy @baddest-batchers @bimboshaggy @heylookitworked @eclec-tech @burningnerdchild @liopleurodean @littlemissbshine

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list, please comment below or message/ask directly.

Rex was absolutely exhausted.

Fox wasn’t lying when he said the guard was understaffed. Every day the protest grew closer, and with that came new complications. Complications he usually didn’t have to deal with on the battlefield.

Like civilians. Not insurgents. Not hostages. Not rebels against the separatists. Real and true civilians with not a drop of combat in their blood (not that they wanted it). And there were so many. The population of Coruscant was out of control, and he made a promise to himself to never, ever settle here. He needed sky. And trees. And occasional, honest silence. Not even his men could conjure such a racket.

But coordinating route plans through the city, placement of troopers, and escorts for persons of importance weren’t his only concerns. Rex hadn’t been sleeping well. And it was all your fault.

Still not cleared to work by a professional, but almost entirely back to feeling like your former self, you laid around your apartment all day, every day bored. Bored and, well… impassioned.

And you weren’t keeping it to yourself.

Rex could handle the thorough, suggestive kisses, no matter how hard the thought of your soft lips made him. He could deal with the increasingly short and revealing clothes - it’s hot in here, you’d said - even if he got the ungentlemanly urge to rip them off. He could even stay strong against the way you’d clamber into his lap and grind onto his cock while you watched your nightly shows. He would end every evening achingly erect, too stimulated to sleep, and kicking himself.

His honor and concern for your health couldn’t be compromised, but the desire to give you exactly what you wanted, what you needed, was all-consuming. Rex wanted to provide for you in every way, and being unable to was eating him up inside. You deserved to be catered and attended to. Adored. Worshiped.

You deserved to be fucked. In whatever way you craved. In whatever way you would have him.

And by the force, if he didn’t deserve to get some sleep. It wasn’t just the temptation of you, yearning, delectable you keeping him up at night. He wasn’t sure if it was because of your attack or a result of planning for every eventuality with Fox, but Rex was feeling paranoid. Every morning, on duty, even in the evening with you in his lap, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. It was like he was back in the field, sleeping in the open, full kit on and one hand curled around his blaster. No matter the trooper on watch or his knowledge of the enemy’s location, it was always impossible to relax. Because of the constant, insistent feeling he was being watched.

That’s how he’d felt for five days now. Seen. Observed. Under fucking surveillance.

He admitted it might have been all the cameras and protocols used by the CG. But Rex had been raised by military bases, had been born breathing the air of structure and order. And not once had he ever felt this creeping awareness on his home turf.

He’d certainly never felt it on yours. And that was the part that really worried him. He’d learned to trust his gut a long time ago, and the fact that all of his alarm bells were going off while you were safe in his arms…while you slept, recovering from an assault on your body and mind…

He wanted to go home. He wanted to see with his own eyes and feel with his naked, ungloved hands that you were alright.

Instead, he was sitting through another adjustment to the current crowd control plan for the pro-clone rally, and the anti-protest that was sure to follow.

“Civilians are likely going to cluster in this sector,” Fox repeated for maybe a third time, gesturing to the holomap. “It’s a clear shot from a lot of domiciles and hot spots. Caf shops and casual shopping. Most of them won’t be protesters. They’ll be rubber-necks just looking to say they were there. There’s a clear sight path to the podium. I want as many troopers there as we can spare, ready to get people out if everything goes to complete shit. Thorn, you and your assignees are to hold the lines between the protesters, anti-protesters, and civilians. You boys are the grid by which we operate. If someone gets violent, you pack ‘em up and return to your post as quickly and cleanly as possible. They go to the drunk tanks to cool down.”

Rex nodded along. He’d had the plan memorized since the first briefing. He just wasn’t used to this level of prep time. Usually, he’d follow a certain Jedi’s first thought and just, well, make it work.

Fox continued, “Hound, your unit is patrolling the perimeter of the event with the massifs. Do not appear in force. Spread out. Keep the massifs calm. Make no moves unless you hear from either myself or the other commanders.” Hound’s “yes sir” was almost entirely lost, because Fox, clearly exhausted by this point, kept going without pause.

“Thire, you’re to take your unit into the two buildings on either side of the protest site. Keep an eye out. We have very public, very divisive figures in attendance and the last thing I need on my hands is a downed senator. If you see signs of a sniper, if you see a hostile assailant rushing the stage, you sound the alarm and take the shot if you can manage it.”

Rex then felt his brother’s attention on him, and sat up straighter. Fox’s visor met his own, and he inclined his head, “Captain Rex will be commanding the line between the podium and the crowd while I act as escort to the VIPs. That means that most of my rally unit will be assigned to a different commanding officer while I take a smaller squad to escort public figures to, through, and from the event. It also means that I will be absent for portions of the day, dealing with the struggles of our dear politicians. If any of you, any of you at all have a problem with taking orders from a decorated, battle-hardened commander who just happens not to be of CG origin, too fucking bad. You will follow Rex’s orders as if they come directly from me, understood?”

“Sir, yes sir!” rang through the hall.

“Damn straight,” Fox growled. “One more thing. Captain Rex will be more noticeable than you lot. He’s a well-known poster boy for the war, thanks to Jedi Master Skywalker, and his armor is bound to attract attention. I’ve requested his help at great sacrifice to his General and the 501st. I’d like to return him in one piece. That means look out for him, Thire, your unit in particular. The anti-protesters will be gunning for a figure like him standing out in the open.”

There were a couple of snickers amongst some of Rex’s more well-known acquaintances, but by and large the sea of red and white helmets regarded him with a mixture of reverence and, dare he say it, protectiveness. He felt like a very well cared for massif.

Fox dismissed the boys and sat down at the command table, taking off his helmet and rubbing his eyes. Somehow, the circles under them had gotten darker, “Sorry Rex, didn’t mean to make you sound like a damsel in distress.”

“You didn’t,” he chuckled. “I appreciate the manpower and the potential cover fire. You may have given them an overinflated view of my military record, though.”

“Please,” Fox rolled his eyes. “How many times have you been medalled?”

“Five out of seven times it was instigated by Amidala,” Rex snorted. “She gives me all the medals Skywalker isn’t allowed to accept.”

His brother let out a weak, but very genuine chuckle, then sobered up, staring glass-eyed down at the table, “This needs to be over.”

“Yeah,” Rex shook his head. “I’ve…had a bad feeling for most of the week. Like something’s wrong and I just don’t know what.”

Fox nodded, “Something is going to go wrong at the rally. I feel it. But there’s no way to prepare for every eventuality. All I can do is hope not too many people get hurt.”

Rex scanned his brother up and down, the tired eyes, the slumped shoulders, the gray streak in his hair, “You need a vacation.”

That prompted a single, hollow laugh in the back of Fox’s throat, “Sure, I’ll just submit my PTO request to the emperor. Shed the armor, turn off my comms. How’s Naboo this time of year?”

“I’ll have a word with Ularen’s secretary, she can join you.”

Fox sat up stick-straight, “That’s not funny, Rex.”

He shrugged, “I’m not laughing.”

“That’s…I can’t,” Fox shook his head, eyes wide and sad. “She’s not, we’re not-”

“How about this,” Rex leaned forward on his knees. “I promise, when I get back to the Resolute, I’ll get her to comm you.”

But his brother glared back at him, “She won’t do it. She’s…we’re not on the best of terms.”

“All the more reason,” Rex insisted. “She’s on a warship, Fox. You will never forgive yourself if she gets hurt and you didn’t get the chance to tell her whatever you need to tell her. Trust me.”

Fox looked away and stiffly put his helmet back on, coming back to his persona diligent control, “You’re a meddlesome idiot, brother.”

“Look who’s talking.”

*********************************

Your fingers were stroking his cock again.

“Ah, cyare,” Rex mumbled into your hairline, blinking in the flare of morning light. He reached down and removed your hand from his shorts. “None of that.”

You groaned, leaned forward, and scraped your teeth on his bare chest, “C’mon, Rex. You know I’m well enough.”

“Not till another, not-motivated-by-sex medic says so,” he gathered you up, pressing sweet kisses to your face, which was looking brighter and healthier by the day. “You’ve got your check-up tomorrow. Not too long now.”

“How do you have this much self-control?” you whined.

“A man can do anything with the right motivation,” he grinned down at you. Stars, you were beautiful. “I’m excited too.”

“Hmm, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he trailed his nose across your cheek, blowing warm air down to your ear. Your breath hitched. “Nothing I want to do more than sink into you, feel you wrapped around me again…except, maybe, lap at your pretty clit until you spill down my chin.”

You let out a tiny high pitched mewl, “That’s not fair, Rex. I’m so horny it hurts, and you’re leaving soon.”

Just like clockwork, his vambrace began beeping from across the room.

Rex kissed your nose, “You haven’t exactly been making this easy on me either, cyarika.” He reached down to grab at your hips. “The kissing and the stroking and the grinding. But I’ve been very nice, I know how hard this is for both of us. Just be good for me a bit longer, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

You sighed, properly chastised, “Okay. But maybe I could still come to the rally-”

“Not even if you held a blaster to my head,” Rex interrupted firmly. “We’ve talked about this.”

He got up to go and check the message on his vambrace while you huffed, “I don’t like the idea of you out there, dangled like bait for the worst of the anti-clone movement.”

“Fox and I both agreed that it would be best to keep the protesters focused on a trooper instead of the politicians.” Speaking of his brother, Fox was calling him in for the final briefing before they moved out this afternoon.

“But if I just waited at a caf shop a few blocks away-”

“I’d be out of my mind with worry the entire time,” he started pulling on his armor. “And I wouldn’t be able to do my job.”

You went quiet, which was surprising. The both of you had gone over this repeatedly last night. Rex could understand your anxiety, but he had his skills, he had his plastoid, and he had an entire branch of the GAR convinced that he needed to be protected at all costs. He suspected Fox felt guilty about using him for this, and was hyping up the troopers about his record, his legion, and maybe even the fact that he had someone to come home to.

He chanced a glance back at you, and felt his heart seize. You were teary, jaw clenched and staring out the window.

“Hey,” he strode over, breastplate hanging off him loosely. “Hey now, cyare.”

You threw your arms around him, pressing your body against the ridges of his armor, “Be careful, Rex. Please”

He held you, swaying slightly to the rhythm pounding in his chest, “I will, I promise. Give me ten hours. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I’ll be watching you on the net,” you sniffed.

“I’ll wave if I see a camera.”

*********************************

That’s how he left you, curled up back under the covers and promising you’d take it easy. You were asleep again almost immediately.

The briefing was quick, and loading into the transports went by even faster. Fox wanted everyone in position before the first of the protesters gathered.

The troopers spread through the open space like they’d done it a thousand times. Rex only had to mind his own placement at the north corner of the stage and admire their precision. Fox had trained them well.

Protesters with homemade accessories (like buttons), colorful signs, and makeshift masks to look like GAR helmets started filtering in. Most of them looked like the pro-clone crowd.

An hour later, some anti-protesters arrived. The grounds became considerably louder, the air charged with electricity. Rex ordered a screaming man who approached the stage to be taken to the drunk tanks.

News crews pulled their speeders up, unloading all of their expensive equipment. They looked considerably calmer than Rex felt.

The space filled up faster than he could have anticipated. Every time he scanned the area, the burgeoning pile of bodies seemed to have multiplied. But the lines of troopers were holding well.

Another hour passed before the speakers arrived. Fox sent a ping to each commanding officer, and a moment later Bail Organa, Padme Amidala, several representatives, a net star, a reclusive philanthropist, and - Rex’s eyebrows raised - Shor Ryesim filled onto the stage. He guessed Shor wasn’t lying when he said he was the organizer of the event.

Organa’s speech opened the rally. It was well-written, level, and reassuring. Rex never understood what special quality made someone a good public speaker, but he was sure he didn’t possess it. Bail apparently had it in spades. Even the anti-clone folks calmed down a little.

The speakers began to blend together as Rex continued to scan the crowd. The representatives were supportive, if a little dull. He couldn’t blame them, how hard must it be to follow Organa? The net star came off vapid and brief, but at least he was using his position for something meaningful. The philanthropist looked almost embarrassed to be present. And Amidala…well, she was Amidala. Direct and spirited, passionate and definitive. She kept turning in his direction throughout the speech, and Rex fought the urge to give her the recognition she deserved. As far as the public knew, he was not familiar with her in the slightest.

The crowd began to pick up on her energy. Loud clashes of voices rose up. Rex caught a few troopers keeping brawlers apart. The anti-crowd began hurling insults and, in one case, a rock in her direction. It missed by a hair.

“Don’t bother with the drunk tank for that one!” Rex commanded. Amidala and the other politicians were ushered off the stage. And of course this was all streamed across the net. Skywalker was going to kill him.

“Are they calling it?” He commed Fox. “The crowd is rising.” And he wasn’t exaggerating. The pros were clamoring for the anti’s arrest. Insults and accusations flew.

“Hold on,” came his brother’s answer. “No, the organizer wants to give his speech, finish up with what they came to do. I’m taking the others out of here.”

Rex felt a stab of annoyance. Fucking Shor…

“Hold steady, boys,” he said to his troopers. “We’ve got one more speaker, then they’re gonna send ‘em home.”

Ryesim took to the podium with very little ceremony. He shouted into the mics, trying to maintain the attention of his audience.

“Friends! Friends!” he called. “If you’ll lend me just a bit of your patience! Remember, this event is for changing minds, not causing violence!”

Rex rolled his eyes and ordered two more brawlers led away.

“However, we must be willing to fight to defend what is good and just!”

What the fuck is he doing? Rex called for his troopers to be on high alert. Shor was apparently abandoning the idea of de-escalation.

“Enough violence has been committed in the name of slowing progress!” Shor yelled, smacking the top of the podium. “We are here to demand the full rights of clones be recognized! We, as full citizens of this great Republic, have a responsibility to understand the plight of those less fortunate than us! To put ourselves in the way of those who would harm our clone compatriots, who are no less valuable, no less deserving than we are. Citizens of Coruscant, we are under threat! A war has started, much like the one clones heroically pursue across the galaxy! Too many clone supporters have been met with barbarity on the streets where they walk every day!”

The screen behind the podium alighted, showing the image of a young man, nose clearly broken, with glass sticking out of his cheek.

“Take Kiran Serril!” Shor shouted, spit flying from his mouth. “Brutalized in his own home for a sticker on his door supporting clone citizenship!”

The mob screamed in unison. The lines of troopers between pro and anti groups were starting to break down.

“Fox,” Rex growled. “We need to end this. Now.”

Fox’s response came immediately, “Copy. I’ll comm the others. I’ve just put the VIPs in their transports. I’m on my way back.”

Shor was still screaming, riling the throng up with yet another disturbing image, “Ellebet Diranae is an elderly retiree, but that did not stop thugs from following her home and giving her a concussion for daring to read a pro-clone pamphlet in her local caf joint!”

All Rex could see were angry faces, brutal intent. He was done waiting.

“Form a wall boys!” he yelled, and his troopers started pushing the protesters back from the stage without hesitation. The ones keeping the two factions apart began getting serious, and the line down the middle reformed. “Blasters at stun only! Order them to disperse! Hound, get in here now, start getting those on the fringes to go home! Leave the massifs in the transports, they’ll just incite panic!”

He was so busy he didn’t hear Shor’s next introduction, didn’t see the transition to another exploitive image. Only when the crowd began falling back did Rex begin to register words again.

“- worst of all, this heroic, kind woman is a medic! She saves lives for a living! She lives in Coruscant, like all of you, not too far from here! I’ve known her since childhood, and they demolished her for the crime of wearing pins on a backpack!”

Rex’s hot, racing blood suddenly turned to ice. Slowly, or maybe it only seemed that way in the chaos, he turned back to look at the new picture on the netscreen.

No.

*********************************

You were having trouble breathing.

Wheezing, you raised a hand to touch your netscreen, running a finger down the little stage made of data and pixels. You hovered over Rex, who had his back turned to the mile-high image behind the podium. He was frantically trying to get the crowd under control.

Shor was shaking his fist, shouting like a lunatic. You wanted to squash him.

You caught the moment Rex turned and saw the screen behind him, could practically feel the moment he registered what had happened.

Shor had shown your face, battered as all hell. With multiple pictures, plastered on a surface taller than your building. From multiple angles, so the damage couldn’t be ignored.

Shor had screamed your name to the entire city, the entire planet. With that, someone could find your address. Find your place of work.

You’d be on the news in a matter of hours. You and those other poor souls Shor undoubtedly didn’t get permission to showcase. You sobbed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As you watched, Rex prowled towards the Twi’Lek, who didn’t even notice a murderous clone in his periphery. Fox appeared on the other side of the stage, and rushed to intercept. You weren’t sure he would make it in time.

Rex ripped the microphone clear off its stand, the podium screeching in protest. That move gave Fox the time he needed to get in between the two and slam Shor to the surface of the podium. He put his other hand on Rex’s wrist, and even though it was hidden behind the rest of his body, you knew Fox was stopping your boyfriend from drawing his blaster.

A moment while they stood, staring each other down through their visors. Finally, Rex stepped back, and Fox cuffed Shor. With his other hand, the commander looked to be talking into his comms. Your brutalized face disappeared from behind them.

A moment later, your own netscreen went black.

#captain rex #captain rex x female reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars #wisteriabyrnefanfic #wistysfics

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via-l0ve · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I've been binging your fics/imagines lately and I just can't get enough! I don't know if this was ever done before, but--

Could you do a general, platonic (perhaps mildly romantic, like how I see Dean kinda gushing over Y/N idk, your choice!) imagine on how the men (Sam, Dean, Castiel, maybe Crowley [which would be funny]) would react to Y/N being some kind of powerful angel, like that sits at a pretty high rank and has the power to do all sorts of stuff? Healing, destroying, anger being so destructive it could kill a human (but albeit a peaceful being). This angel would probably serve as a guardian to the Winchesters, or a superior to Cass or a complete surprise and maybe unlikely companion for Crowley? I imagine it'd be a scenario where they're saved last second during a massive fight, probably get to know er type deal. This sounds kind of cheesy as I ask someone else to write this but I hope it doesn't sound too weird, I almost wanna go anonymous HAHA. I know this is VERY specific but I don't wanna confuse you! It's something I wanna write out into a fic myself but the way you write would make it super interesting! :)

So sorry if this was too much, I'm very descriptive!

Angel. (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: stop omg. this idea is so cool! also - thank you for the kind words!! i appreciate you so much!! i hope you enjoy this!

warnings: slightly romantic!!

Dean:

Dean met you on a hunt

he was being himself and basically bleeding out, but he was still fighting

you, being in charge of the dink, had to come down and help out

when you appear, a bolt of white light strikes the ground and your voice projects through the atmosphere

“you will not hurt this man.” you say, hair blowing in the wind and eyes glowing

dean was flabbergasted, also a little scared, but also a little bit in love

eventually you just kill the entire vampire nest because they’re stupid and you turn to dean.

“are you okay?”

he’s even more confused because this angel just came down and slaughtered the threats to him and now they’re talking so.. nice.

you heal his wounds and boom. now he’s your friend

he follows you around like a lost puppy and also brags that he’s friends with not one, but two angels, and one is even more powerful and higher up than fucking CASTIEL.

as he gets to know you he knows how sweet you are and it inteigues him even more because - as i said, you’re a powerful angel who can kill anyone but you’re so nice to him, Sam, Bobby and Cas.

the first time he sees you angry he literally gets all red and falls for you

—

Sam:

You first met sam when he was basically bleeding out in a motel room

Dean had gone to get food and sam had been hiding a pretty nasty gash from him

so now he was sitting alone trying to patch himself up (and being unsuccessful)

so, you made your appearance and tried to keep him calm

you appeared and he saw you and went 👁️👄👁️

“it’s okay. i’m an angel. i will not hurt you.” you say softly, stepping towards him

sam is still a little wary but he lets you heal him

you press your fingers to his forehead and he’s all good (albeit a little scared hahah)

he always has the smuggest little smirk on his face when you get angry on his behalf

he likes the feeling of having such a powerful being watching over him all the time but it also makes him nervous because of… his past💀

addicts recover

—

Castiel:

When you came down from heaven to help the Winchesters and Castiel, he was happy to see you

he knew, despite rebelling from heaven, you wouldn’t judge him

he spends a lot of time near you

like, standing right next to you

i like to think that you have better “people skills” than him for whatever reason (it’s just funny) and he just kind of sticks to you ykwim

he thinks you’re so cool

he dosent step in to help you in fights because he knows you can handle it and kill anyone you want

he’s blushing and kicking his feet when he sees you🤭🤭🤭

absolute power couple if you guys got together like omg

but yeah

he always defends you if anyone says shit

he’s just such a cutie pie

—

Crowley:

you popped in when crowley was holding dean and sam hostage

you came into the room, eyes rolling already.

“let them go.” you said, voice sounding bored as you’d done this multiple times already.

crowley looks at you

“oh god, you again.” he scoffs

BUT he dosent even bother to argue and lets them go

which shocks the boys because that’s not like crowley

but he’s smitten for you

it’s giving enemies to lovers

but anyways

you guys have many encounters and end up talking a lot

crowley talks about hell and you talk about heaven

and he finds himself not hating you

and suddenly he wants to be around you more and learn about you and watch you be a badass angel

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #dean winchester #castiel x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #castiel #sam winchester x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #dean winchester supernatural #sam winchester supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #castiel supernatural #supernatural #crowley supernatural

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hippiegoth97 · 7 months ago

Text

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 3

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

Pt. 2

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Swearing, smoking, light smut, drug use, angst, anxiety, mentions of vomit

Word Count: 4.8k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 3: Get Nervous

Sunday, March 12th, 1989

Sunday. Fucking Sunday. You've been dreading this all weekend. It’s the final day of the Hellfire Club campaign, and you also have a paper due for biology. You didn't mean to put it off, but a certain sexy metalhead has distracted you this entire time. You don't blame him, you didn't tell him you had homework. You're sure if you just said so that he would've let you focus. Given the length required for your paper, you decide to tell Eddie you can't sit in today. You don't want to spend all night rushing your work. You could easily write a passable essay over the course of the day.

"What do you mean you can't watch the end?" Eddie asks, surprised you'd deny him your company.

"It's nothing personal, baby. I promise. I just have a big essay due tomorrow. I should've mentioned it earlier, but I didn't want to ruin our fun. Though I think I've done that now anyway." You look down at your hands, leaning against the entry to the livingroom. Eddie's standing close to you, playing about with the hem of your shirt to tease you. He lifts your chin up with his finger.

"It's no problem, angel. I understand." He smiles kindly at you, but his eyes still read as hurt. He knows you'd sit in if you could, but he can't say he won't be missing you the whole time. Even though you're just going to be down the hall, all he'll want to do is run to you and never let go. "Who knows, maybe you'll finish early, hm? And then you can come see me." He says lowly, leaning down for a kiss. Your lips meet, and you wrap your arms around him. You pull him close, moving your mouth against his gently. He's so addictive, the taste of tobacco on his tongue makes you want to never stop kissing him. But it’s already 11am, you'd all slept in late so you have to get moving.

You break away from him, and he whines. "Eddie, relax. I just need time to write a decent paper so I don't fail, okay?" He nods, pouting playfully. "Believe me, I'd rather spend the day with you. But I can't let my grades slip. If I do, Mom will have a cow. And then she might not be so keen on me seeing you." You poke a finger into his chest.

"Are you saying I'm a bad influence, baby?" Eddie asks slyly. He enjoys being a rebel just a little too much sometimes. You roll your eyes.

"You just might be, Munson. Now come on, go tend to your club. And I'll be in my room. You can come check in on me when you're done if I haven't finished yet." You give him another quick kiss, and turn away to go work on your paper. You hear him let out an annoyed sigh, rolling your eyes again at him being so childish. You walk into your room, already regretting sticking to your guns about your assignment. You close the door, but leave it unlocked in case Eddie comes to you later on. You put your record player on, music helps you concentrate. You keep it low so as not to disturb the campaign, and you begrudgingly open your notebook to begin writing your paper.

Hours go by, and it's almost 6pm. You haven't bothered to look at the clock much, you just want to get this damn assignment done. You have about two pages left, but your hand is starting to cramp up. You flex your fingers to relax your sore muscles, when you hear a knock on the door. "Y/N?" Eddie calls to you. "The game's over, Erica claimed a victory for everyone. I'm gonna take the kids home, but I'll be back, 'kay?" You jump off your bed, running to open the door. You're greeted by Eddie's smiling face. "Hey there, beautiful. How's the essay coming along?" He leans against the doorframe, looking you up and down. Your hair is a mess from running your hands through it constantly. It’s one of your nervous tics. His expression drops slightly, worried about how your assignment has been treating you. "You doin’ alright?" He asks, reaching for your hand.

"Yeah, it's just kinda stressing me out. But I only have two pages left. It's not very good, I'll probably only get a B on it. I'm having a hard time concentrating." You downplay the situation, ignoring the alarms going off in your head. For some reason, this paper is kicking your ass. You can't help your anxiety overtaking you, your body begins to tremble uncontrollably. Eddie squeezes your hand to comfort you.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be so wound up. I'm sure it's a good paper, it'll be okay." He puts his other hand on your shoulder to steady your tremors.

"I guess. I keep reading it over, but it all feels jumbled now. And my eyes hurt." Your breath shudders, and you pinch the bridge of your nose as your eyes squeeze shut. You feel one of your infamous migraines coming on. Perfect. Those last two pages will really be a challenge now.

"Hey, hey. C’mere, babydoll." Eddie pulls you into him, holding you close. Your arms wrap around his middle, and he strokes your head. You try to focus on him so you can steady your heart pounding in your chest. But you can't calm down, you're having a full-blown panic attack. You feel silly having one over a stupid essay, but you can't do poorly on this. You won't allow it. You cannot fail. Ever. Your breath comes out rapidly, chest rising and falling as you wheeze. Eddie loosens his grip, looking at your face. You've gone pale, like you might faint. "Shit. Are you alright? What can I do?" The worry in his eyes only exacerbates your anxiety. You're hyperventilating, and your head feels light. Eddie picks you up in his arms, carrying you to the bed. "I-I don't know what to do, Y/N. I'll get your mom. Just try to breathe. Fuck." His own voice is shaky now, you've scared him. He runs out of the room to the kitchen, frantically telling your mother what's happening.

You hear multiple sets of footsteps rushing down the hall to you. Eddie, Mom, Dustin, and all the kids file into your room. Mom and Eddie help you sit up, you feel like you're going to pass out. You can't steady your breathing, it’s as if you're suffocating. Mom holds out a paper bag to you. "Honey, we gotta get your breathing steady, okay? So just try to breathe in the bag for me. And then I have a Valium you can take to settle your nerves. It'll be okay, sugarpuff. We're here for you." You take the bag, inhaling and exhaling as best you can into it. It seems to be working, your breath slowly returning to you. You hate having everyone staring at you like this, you must look like such a freak. You wish they'd all go away, and leave you alone. You put the bag down, and Mom hands you the pill and a glass of water. You down it quickly, chugging the entire glass.

"Take it easy, angel." Eddie advises, stroking your arm. Mom takes the glass from you and walks out, quickly shooing the others away. Eddie stays with you, holding you close again. You're still trembling, but your heart slowly regains its normal pace. "Do you want to lay down, sweetheart?" He quietly asks. You just nod. He lays you down, caressing your cheek as you position yourself on your side. "Is there anything I can do?" You shake your head, feeling a tear escape one of your eyes. He tuts, wiping it away. "It'll be alright, baby. Just try to relax. I'm gonna take the kids home, but I'm coming right back, ‘kay? And I'm not leaving your side for the rest of the night." He plants a kiss to your forehead before standing up to leave. He walks out of the room, giving you a caring glance before shutting the door.

As soon as he leaves, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You begin to sob, drawing your legs up to your chest. You feel so stupid, losing control in front of Eddie like that. And to have your mom, and everyone else staring at you? It’s so humiliating. And over what? A stupid essay? You really are just a scared little girl that can't handle anything. You imagine Eddie won't actually come back, because he's too freaked out by your little episode. He only says he will in order to spare your feelings. And all the kids will tell everyone and their dog about how you crumble so easily under pressure. Dustin’s bound to have a field day rubbing it all in your face. And you’ll have Mom doting on you every second of the day over this, maybe she'll even throw you in the looney bin.

You lay stewing in your thoughts for what feels like hours, and the sun had set outside your window. You never want to move from this spot again, never look at anyone or talk to anyone. It’s all too much, and you just want to hide, or maybe even die. You hear the front door open, probably Eddie stopping by to tell you he can't see you anymore. He can't possibly go out with a nutcase like you. The door to your room opens again, and Eddie walks over to you. "Hey, angel. How are you feeling?" He asks with a smile, which disappears when he sees how red your face is from crying.

"Terrible. But I don't expect you to care." You blubber, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. He scoffs at your statement, confused at your change in mood.

"What do you mean? Of course I care. Where's this coming from?" He asks, moving closer to you. You turn your back to him, you can't take that concerned look on his face. He sighs. "Y/N. Please, look at me. Did I do something wrong?" You groan, rolling back over to face him.

"You didn't do anything. I just figure you don't want to hang around me since I'm a basketcase." You reply bitterly. You know he's given you no indication of what you're saying, but you can't believe anyone would possibly want to be around you now.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks, shocked and slightly annoyed. "You're not a basketcase. And even if you were, I wouldn't care. I really like you, Y/N." He furrows his brow at you, trying to figure out where your head's at.

"You can't mean that." You shake your head, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Why not?" He crosses his arms, searching your expression.

"Because you can't see me like this, all shaky and pale over a stupid paper, and still want to be around me. It's so embarrassing." You start to tear up again, and you curse your eyes for working against you. "And everyone was staring at me, I'm sure they'll tell everyone they know about it. And Dustin will tease me. And my mom will worry about me all the time. She might even have me committed." Eddie's eyes widen at your words, realizing what's happening. He lays down next to you, but lets you have some space.

"Y/N, I can tell you right now that you're wrong. About all of it, 'kay?" He reassures you, and you glare at him.

"How do you know?" You cross your own arms now.

"Well, for one. I'm still here, aren't I? What did you think I was gonna do? Just leave and never come back?" He's slightly angry with you doubting his true intentions.

"I guess I did. I didn't want you to, but I didn't think you'd still like me after everything." You answer, realizing how silly you sound.

"Well, I do. I'm right here, ‘kay? Look, it scared me. But I was worried about you. I wanted you to be okay. To be honest, it felt like I caused it, since I kept you from doing your work all weekend." He explains, sounding guilty.

"No, Eddie. It isn't your fault, I didn't tell you about it, and that's my own problem." You reassure him, reaching for his hands. He lets you take them in yours.

"Well, that's good to know, princess. And another thing? You're wrong about everyone else too. Again, they're concerned for you. But the whole time I was driving them home, all the kids talked about was coming up with a way to help you feel better. They care about you, Y/N. We all do. I don't know what negative voices you have in your head telling you otherwise, but you shouldn't listen to them." You nod, and he continues on. "And Dustin? He swore everyone to secrecy about your anxiety. He said he'll smother anyone who spills your private business in their sleep. And your Mom? She told me you've been dealing with a lot for a long time. She said she felt something like this coming on, because you work yourself to the bone constantly. You never take a break, and you refuse to ask for help when you need it. Obviously, I knew some of this already, given how Friday went. But she said she hopes having me in your life will help you. She still thinks it could, which is flattering, I guess." He chuckles, and you let a small smile form on your lips. "There's that smile I've been missing today!" Eddie coos, pulling you into his arms.

You sniffle, wiping away all your tears. Your eyes feel irritated and red. "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not fair of me to think the way I was about you. Or the others. I just...it's like I know those things aren't true, right? But, it also feels impossible that anyone would actually like and accept me as I am. You know? That probably makes no sense." You chuckle, slapping your forehead in embarrassment.

"No, it doesn't. But I understand what you mean. Listen, I'm here for you no matter what. I won't, however, let you wallow all day. You have a paper to finish young lady." He pokes your chest, making you giggle. "How about we go have a smoke outside, clear your head? Then you can finish your essay. And then, we can spend the rest of the night together. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Eds." You both climb out of bed, making your way outside. You bypass Dustin and your Mom, they seem surprised to see you in a better mood. They look at each other in confusion, questioning one another if they know anything about what Eddie might've said to you. But they end up shrugging, chalking it up to Eddie being the right man for you.

It isn't until you light up that you feel the effects of the pill your mother gave you earlier. You begin to feel dizzy, almost falling over. "Shit, I've gotcha." He catches you, gently leading you to sit in the grass. He sits beside you, rubbing your back with his hand. "You feeling alright, Y/N?" He looks into your eyes with concern.

You try to get your head to stop spinning, but you can't. "I'm not feeling so hot, Eddie. I'm really dizzy, everything's spinning." You groan, clutching your stomach. You lean away from him, and vomit into the grass. He tries to help you, but you push him away. You manage to stand, bending over as you throw up again. You keep yourself steady, bracing your hands on your knees. The stomach acid stings your throat, making you cough. You stay in place, waiting for your stomach to calm down. You dry heave a few times before you're finally empty. You spit any remaining bile out, wiping your mouth. You stand upright, almost falling backwards. Eddie grabs your shoulders to steady you.

"I'm sorry, angel. Have you ever taken Valium before?" He asks, stroking the sweat-soaked hair out of your face. You feel slightly better now, but also very tired. You just shake your head, before burying it into his chest. "I'm guessing you had a bad reaction. You didn't eat much today, either. I know your mom was trying to help, but I wish I had known you hadn't had it before. That shit is not for the faint hearted."

"She takes it to help her sleep, she's always had bad insomnia." You state, muffled by Eddie's chest. You can barely keep your eyes open at this point, you just want to sleep. You know your paper needs doing, but a small nap could help. You could always get up early tomorrow to finish it. "I'm really tired, Eds. Can you take me to bed?" You ask, nuzzling your face against him.

"I will, but I don't think you should sleep right now. You might get sick again and choke. And you need water, and something to eat. I'll get you something, and I'll stay with you until the pill wears off some more." He sighs, lifting you into his arms. You groan, your stomach still hurts. "Sorry, baby. I'm trying to be careful with you." He brings you inside, and your mother immediately panics when she sees you in Eddie's arms.

"Oh, God! What happened? You look awful, sugarpuff!" She says, rushing over to you.

"She's fine, mostly. She had a bad reaction to the pill you gave her and painted the yard with her breakfast." Eddie snips. He continues walking, bringing you down the hall. He plops you on the bed, making sure you sit up against your pillow. "Stay put, baby. I'll be right back." You hear him say as your eyes have fallen shut. He leaves the room to get what you need. You overhear him talking to Mom, their words swirling around in your dizzy head. Eddie calmly explains to her that she shouldn't have given you the Valium. She doesn't sound offended, more so she's ashamed that she inadvertently made you sick. He reassures her, saying it was just a mistake and that he'll help you through it. But he makes a point to tell her to never do it again under any circumstances. You drift off near the end of their talk, hearing the fridge door open as Eddie finds you something to eat.

A while later, you feel Eddie shaking you awake. "Mooooooom, just five more minutes." You whine, your eyes fluttering open. You see him chuckling at you thinking he was your mother. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, silly me." You giggle, trying to keep your eyes open.

"Hey, sleepy head. I brought you some dinner, and a nice tall glass of water." He sets a tray down next to you.

"Not hungry." You shake your head, and Eddie frowns at you.

"You have to eat, Y/N. You'll feel better, I promise." He insists, getting in bed next to you. He sets the tray on his lap. You lazily scan your eyes over what he’s brought you. A PB&J sandwich cut in half, and some apple slices. "It's not too much, I don't want you to barf it all up later. But it's enough to help you."

"Ugh, don't say barf." You wince, feeling ill again.

"Shit, sorry." He hands you half of the sandwich, and you reluctantly take it in your hand. You bring it to your mouth, taking a small, apprehensive bite. You immediately want to spit it out, but you know you have to get something down. You gulp hard as you manage to swallow it. It hits your stomach, and you start to feel hunger overtake you. You take another bite, and another. "Take it slow, Y/N." He says to you quietly, gently stroking your leg as you chew. You swallow again, looking into Eddie's eyes.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Eddie. You're a good man, you know." You smile kindly at him, taking another bite of your sandwich. "Did you make this?" You ask him as you chew.

"How'd you know?" He quirks an eyebrow at you, impressed you can tell he made it.

"Easy, Mom uses grape jelly. But I think it's too sweet. And you...used raspberry jam. My favorite. I don't know how you guessed it, though." His eyes widen, a smirk spreading on his lips. "What?" You look at him suspiciously.

"Raspberry is my favorite, too." He replies, wiping a smudge of jam from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He brings it to his lips, licking it clean. You stare at him in amazement, he really is something else. "What? Like you said, grape is too sweet. But raspberry? It makes the whole thing come together."

You don't know what to say, so you let slip the first thing that comes to mind. "I think I could be falling in love with you." You gasp at your own words, registering what you’ve just said to him.

"Over a sandwich?" He asks snarkily.

"Well, no. You're just so...." You search for the right words. "Good. To me." You gaze at him seriously, driving the point home that you care deeply for him. He gets the message, receiving it with enthusiasm.

"Well, I'm glad you feel so strongly for me, Y/N. And lucky for you, I just happen to feel the same." Eddie looks deep into your eyes, before glancing at your lips. He's breathing heavily, unsure if he should go further. He doesn't want to push you in your vulnerable state.

"Are you gonna kiss me already?" You say impatiently, his eyes snap to yours again. You can't help smiling like an idiot, closing the gap yourself. Your lips meet, both of you humming lowly into the kiss. You break away quickly, covering your mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure my breath is terrible right now." Your cheeks heat up, but he's unphased.

"It's fine, Y/N. You just taste like sandwich. I don't mind either way, not if it means I get to kiss the most beautiful girl in the world." He pokes your nose, making the both of you laugh. You finish the first half of the sandwich, drinking some of the water to wash it down. You reach over to take an apple slice from the tray in his lap. Eddie sits with you quietly while you chew, still stroking your leg. He watches as you manage to eat everything off your plate, kissing your forehead when you finish the last bite. "That's my girl." He says sweetly, taking the tray back to the kitchen. You sip on the water, feeling just full enough for your stomach to stop hurting. You can't stop smiling, seeing Eddie care for you makes your heart swell and gives you butterflies. He comes back shortly, plopping into bed beside you once more. "Better?" He asks, holding your hand.

"Better." You reply, planting a kiss on his plush lips. You cuddle up to him, laying your head on his shoulder. You still feel pretty tired, but you just might be able to finish your paper now. "I should probably finish my essay." You say reluctantly.

"You sure?" Eddie says, worried about you working yourself up again.

"Yeah, I have to get it done. But...stay here with me, okay?" You place a hand on his thigh, caressing it gently.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not goin’ anywhere." He places his hand over yours. Your head leaves its resting place, and you reach over for your notebook and pencil. "C’mere, sit between my legs." Eddie says calmly, and you do as he asks. You put the notebook in your lap, reading the last page you were working on to remember where you’re going with it. You feel Eddie running his hands up and down your back, and your eyes can't help fluttering closed at his touch.

"Watcha doin' there, Eds?" You ask breathily.

"I'm keeping you relaxed, angel." He replies lowly. His hands go to your shoulders, massaging them firmly. You moan at his touch, your head falling to the side. "Does that feel good, baby?" He asks in your ear, his warm breath fanning over you.

"Mhm." Is all you can manage to say as his hands continue to work your flesh. His thumbs press into your back, working the knots of stress that have resided there for who knows how long. You wince as they hurt a little.

"I know, baby. Just let me help you, you'll feel better when I'm done." He presses a kiss to your neck, setting your skin aflame. You know he's not intentionally turning you on, but you can't help leaning further into his touch. He draws small moans from you as he loosens up your sore muscles.

"How are you so fucking good at this?" You ask lustfully, making Eddie's cock twitch. Under any other circumstances, he'd be going further than he is. But he doesn't want to push you when you're not feeling well, it wouldn't be right.

"Practice, sweetheart. I'll keep going, but you have to work on your essay." He kisses your neck again, before setting your head upright so you'll concentrate.

"Alright, alright. Just please keep going." You almost whine at him.

"I'll go as long as you want me too, babydoll." He chuckles quietly. You turn your attention back to the book in front of you. You reread the last paragraph to refresh your train of thought. Once you remember where you’re going, you begin scrawling more words on the page. The ideas come easy to you, and Eddie's hands travel up to your neck. He gently rubs out a large knot that you're sure has been there for months, but you remain focused on the task at hand.

About thirty minutes later, the infamous essay is finally finished. "Done!" You clap the book shut, tossing it away.

"I knew you could do it, baby." You blush at his praise as he kisses your cheek. Eddie had stopped massaging you ten minutes earlier, but he kept caressing you in a non-distracting way. He loves touching you, it seems he'll never get enough. You leave his grasp, turning to face him. He looks so tired, and you feel bad for stressing him out today. He peers at you, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

You straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You look into his eyes, biting your lip. "Nothing's wrong, baby. I'm just sorry for making you so worried today. Let me make it up to you." You lean forward to kiss his neck, lightly biting down on his skin. He groans, his hands going to your waist instinctively. You look at him again, but his expression hasn't changed. "What?" You ask, scrunching your face.

He sighs, pressing into your hips with his fingers. He shakes his head. "It's nothing. It’s just...you don't owe me anything." You open your mouth to protest, but he stops you. "Don't get me wrong, you're sexy as all hell. But you should be taking it easy, sweetheart. It wouldn't be right for me to ask anything of you right now." Eddie cups your face, looking at you meaningfully. "But, what we can do is get cozy and cuddle in bed. I'm fuckin' exhausted, and you need rest before class tomorrow." He pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours passionately. You return it, grabbing the sides of his face to deepen it further. Eddie quickly catches on to what you're doing, breaking away. "Easy, tiger. Man, even when you're sick, you're insatiable." He jokes, moving you off of his lap.

"What can I say? You really bring out my appetite." You smirk slyly at him, hopping off the bed to shut your bedroom door. You both quickly discard your clothes. Eddie's in his boxers, and you're in some panties and his Hellfire shirt. You flick off the light, and climb into bed with him. You scoot under the covers, and he snatches you into his arms to spoon you. You share a quiet laugh, the feeling of his arms around you gives you a warm sense of safety. You turn your head to look at him. "Goodnight, Eds. Thank you for being here with me." You whisper, giving him a peck on the lips. He smiles kindly at you, his eyes hooded from drowsiness.

"It's no trouble at all, ‘night, princess." He slowly shuts his eyes, holding you even closer to him. He nuzzles his face into you, sighing in contentment. You face forward again, closing your eyes too. You let your mind wander off to dreamland, feeling safe, warm, and secure in Eddie's arms.

To be continued...

#fanfiction #smut #stranger things #eddie munson #hawkins #1980s #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #into the fire #hippiegoth97

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