#don't worry the cap fic is coming

[buckyalpine]

Choices (Bucky version)

So you all know the fic choices and choices 2 with a cheating Bucky and sweetheart Steve. I couldn't help myself, I decided to also have a version where Steve is the cheater and reader ends up with Bucky. I'm such a Bucky girl, it cannot be helped. It's the same fic with a few details added to suit the character changes, reversed roles and all in one part.

18 + minors dni 

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: ANGST, cheating, Steve is a dick, SMUT, fluff, Bucky is a sweetheart

“Fuck you taste good sweets” 

Your stomach dropped, cold sweat erupting over your body, hearing your husband’s voice and a woman’s moans from your bedroom. You’d suspected it for a while but it couldn’t be true, he wouldn’t. 

You quietly opened the door, slapping your hand over your mouth over the sight in front of you, Steve’s head buried between some woman’s legs, her thighs thrown over his shoulders as he held her open with his thick arms, groaning as he ate her out. She cried in pleasure, tugging his hair forcing his face in deeper, their clothes thrown on the floor, her bra carelessly tossed on the framed wedding picture you had on the bedside table. 

You couldn’t move, rooted on the spot as he pried her legs apart further, making her back arch, his tongue assaulting her clit, flicking and swirling circles around it, his hips grinding his cock into the mattress, moaning. 

“Best fucking pussy ever baby, can’t get enough of you, could cum just from your taste baby fuck”

You felt light headed, leaning against the hallway to catch yourself, slipping onto the floor, unable to leave even if you wanted to. You pressed your hands to your mouth, desperately trying to silence your cries. 

“Oh god Steve FUCK, push your tongue in me baby, just like that, fuck just like that Captain”  You could hear the wet slapping of his tongue, her voice screaming higher as he made her cum with his mouth. 

“C'mon cum for me baby, want it all over my face, oh god m’gonna cum just rubbing myself like this, no one else gets me off like you, FUCK sweets, AH-” 

His moans caused your heart to splinter, the aftermath of their affair slowly winding down to labored breaths and messy sheets. You lifted your head slightly, seeing Steve pull her into his arms, making out with her, his face covered in her slick, his cock softening against his abs. Their tongues tangled, moaning into each others mouths as he pulled the covers up, his arms wrapping around her. 

“You’re wife will be home soon, I should get going baby” She traced shapes onto his chest as he pulled her hand, pressing a kiss onto her palm.  “No, stay just a little longer, 5 minutes sweets, please?” 

The slight whine in his voice begging her to stay make you nearly throw up. Your body felt like it was filled with cement, hearing the woman giggle, snuggling to up with your husband. 

“Hmm, does she make you feel good like I do, handsome?”

“Nothing compares to you darling, don’t worry about her” He murmured with a light chuckle, leaning into her touch while she stroked his beard. "Wish we had a little longer"

She sighed, grabbing her bra off your wedding picture, scoffing at it. 

“You could do better you know, she doesn’t seem like you’re type”

“I do know” Steve sat up, kissing her shoulder as she strapped her bra on “I got you pretty girl, I’ll see you tonight?"

"Won't your wife ask where you're going" The woman had the audacity to sound annoyed though what killed you the most was the way Steve groaned in agreement.

"Don't worry about her, I’ll come over, okay?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it baby, see you later Cap” 

Your heart shattered, sprinting away from the room, down the hall and out the door, sobs wracking your body.

He promised.

He whispered vow’s he’d written just for you. You’d loved him with your entire being, cradling him, taking care of him, pouring your heart and soul into everything that had to do with him.

You already knew the excuse he'd give. He’d say he had a rough day and would avoid you until tomorrow. He’d go to the bar for a drink to unwind, needing alone time and you’d let him because you wanted to give him space. He’d go over to her place, and make love to her for countless hours into the night, seeking the comfort of someone else.

Your love wasn’t enough.  

-

You left the house, immediately getting into your car, driving mindlessly with no particular destination in mind. Your chest heaved, tears blurring your vision as you pulled into an empty parking lot, breaking down again. You sat there for well over an hour, your entire body burning, a ding from your phone interrupting your thoughts. You checked your phone, scoffing at the text message from your husband.

“Going out tonight, don’t stay up.” 

You screamed in frustration thinking about every time you fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, the countless hours of sleep you lost worried about him, calling and texting him throughout the night, wondering if he was okay. The number of times he brushed you off, telling you not to be so clingy. You’d put in so much of your love and affection for this man who didn’t have the decency to tell you to your face he didn’t love you anymore.

The entire world looked up to this man as their hero, Captain America, a symbol of justice, hope, fairness and he couldn't care less to at least respect your dignity and leave.

You felt a surge of anger, how dare he!? Bring another woman into your home, into your bed, your sheets, wrapped around her naked body, her fucking clothes thrown all over the floor. How many times would you have slept in the very same bed after he warmed it with her?!

You could do the same.

You pulled into the drive way, making your way up the stairs, knocking on the front door.

“Y/n? Its late, is everything okay? Is Steve okay?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, walking into the house, kicking your shoes off. Poor Bucky, always worrying about his best friend, just like you, concerned for his well being, coddling him like a baby. What a fucking waste.

“He’s great actually. He’s currently buried balls deep in someone else”

Bucky choked, staring at you wide eyed as you sauntered around the living room, mindlessly looking at framed pictures he had up, including one from your wedding.

“What?!”

“Mhm, you didn’t know? A red head. Saw them both today, in our bedroom. He was so pussy whipped he didn’t even realize I came home. In fact did you know the great Captain who constantly tells people to mind their language swears like a sailor when he's fucking someone's brains out”

“Fuck, I told him not to- FUCK. I’m so sorry y/n, I didn’t think he’d ever cheat on you”

“You told him not to what?” You turned around, your expression unreadable as you stood in front of Bucky, his face flushed as he looked at the floor before looking at you.

“He’d- fuck- He’d always flirt when we went out. I told him to stop but he said wasn't even doing anything. I thought it was him still adjusting to all the attention but he used to do it in the 40's too. I thought maybe he didn't even realize what he was doing so it was harmless”

You scoffed, shaking your head as Bucky stepped forward, wrapping his thick arms around you. “I’m so sorry doll, I should have stepped in”

“You can step in now”

“What?”

Bucky pulled back, blinking down at you, looking confused as you smirked, trailing your fingers along his chest, going up to play with the dog tags that rested against his chest.

“Step in now James”, You tugged at his chain, his breath hitching in his throat as your lips brushed by his ear “Make it go away”

You could feel his cock stir as you pressed your body on his. Bucky had always had a crush on you. Of course he never acted on it, you were his best friends wife. But here you were, offering yourself on a silver platter, he’d be a fool to say no. Still…

“Y/n” He squeezed his eyes, hoping some blood would return to his brain, his cock aching in his jeans. “We can’t”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s wrong” Bucky's words didn’t  match his actions as he gripped onto your hips, pulling you flush against him, his boner rubbing against you, it was so wrong but it felt so right.

“Tell me you never thought about it?” Your hands trailed down to palm over his length as he groaned, resting his forehead on yours “about us? You never thought about how I’d look spread out on your bed, saying your name instead of his?”

"Y/n"

"Make me forget, Sergeant"

Fuck it.

You screamed out in pleasure chanting Bucky’s name like a prayer, his cock splitting you in half, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. Bucky chuckled at your fucked out state, pausing for a moment to let you rest before the next round.

*3 missed calls*

He returned with a bottle of water and some strawberries, feeding you one as you tossed your phone carelessly to the side.

“What’s wrong doll”

“Ugh, he called”

Bucky thought for a moment before grabbing your phone and propping it up, a wicked smile on his face.

“You wanna show him what’s keeping you busy?”

-

You both woke to a loud banging on the door; your body too sore to bother moving.

“BUCKY OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR”

Bucky yawned, wrapping his arms around you tighter, pulling a pillow above his head.

"I think your husband is here" He sleepily mumbled, tucking his face into your neck, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

"He's your best friend" You mumbled back, burrowing yourself further into his hold, ignoring the incessant knocking.

“Y/N, I KNOW YOU’RE FUCKING THERE, GET THE FUCK OUT NOW”

Bucky rolled his eyes, his semi hard cock pressing into your ass making you giggle.

“Someone’s happy this morning”

“All for you baby”

You heard the banging get louder.

“BUCKY, Y/N FUCK”

“Should we get that?”

“5 more minutes”

*36 missed calls*

*47 unopened messages*

Oh, this was going to be good.

Bucky groaned, tucking you in the sheets before getting out of bed and pulling some sweats on.

“Y/N, I KNOW YOU’RE THERE”

He rolled his eyes, sauntering over to the door, opening it to a raging Steve, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face, the knuckles of his right hand bloodied and bruised. Someone’s upset.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING”

Bucky smirked, his chin glistening, licking your arousal that was still on his lips from mere seconds ago. He made a show of sucking your taste off his fingers, humming in satisfaction.  

“Sorry, just woke u-

“Where the fuck is she?!”

Steve shoved Bucky aside, stomping up the stairs making his way to the bedroom, only to be grabbed back and pushed against the wall.

“Don’t do this, where the fuck is my wife” Steve’s voice was low, chest rumbling as his fists clenched at his sides, trying to collect himself.

“You remember you have a wife?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, dodging Steve’s fist and catching it with his metal arm before slamming him against the wall.

“How the FUCK COULD YOU SLEEP WITH HER?!” Steve spat, unable to scrub the images of you moaning for his best friend, your legs wrapped tightly around him, crying out in pleasure, begging for more. He couldn’t rid himself of the way you looked slobbering over Bucky’s cock and balls, looking up at the camera with doe eyes, moaning when he came in your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show you swallowed it all like a good girl. You made a show of letting Bucky rail you from behind, screaming his name while he tugged your hair and pushed you down, spanking your ass raw. His dog tags hung between your breasts as he tugged and rolled your nipples between his fingers.

The words were so much worse.

"Come on, ride your Sergeants cock babydoll, that's it, so fuckin' good for me"

"Cock's too big Jamie, hurts"

Your breathy, whiny voice made Steve want to throw up, your lip chewed raw, eyes unfocused.

"Awww, is it too big? So cockdrunk for me princess, I got you love, c'mhere, y'like that? Like when I'm on top my pretty girl, I'll make you feel good baby"

"Gonna be the death of me gorgeous, wouldn't give you up for the world, you hear me? Gonna cum in your princess, can't hold it, you're perfect-FUCK"

“HOW COULD YOU CHEAT ON HER!?” Bucky’s grip tightened, feeling rage, disappointment, but also a tinge of arrogance; now he had you and he wasn’t going to let you go.

Steve swallowed thickly, no longer resisting, letting his arms drop to his side. He stared at the floor, guilt and sadness washing over him.

“How could you cheat on her” Bucky’s voice was soft now, genuinely upset over his friends actions. He let Steve go, both men standing in the hallway, the air thick with tension.

“It was a mistake”

“You brought someone else into your home, into your bed, you picked someone else over y/n, what else did you expect her to do”

Steve felt his heart race, he couldn’t lose you like this, he made impulsive choices but you were the one who always believed in him. He started towards the bedroom door again before Bucky grabbed his hand stopping him.

“I want to see her” His eyes were pleading but Bucky shook his head.

“She saw you, you know. That’s why she came here” Steve looked up at Bucky in shock, his eyes wide, he felt like he was going to throw up. Bucky scoffed looking at Steve’s pained expression.

“Just get out”

“Bucky just let me see her-

“Don’t”

Steve’s emotions were running a thousand miles a minute, jealously, anger, guilt, sadness. He drove straight to her house, needing to fuck his pain away, spiraling as he sped down the streets. He went up to her apartment, knocking at the door, hearing another voice behind the door before she opened it.

“Steve? I- what are you doing here, I- it’s not a good time” She kept the door a crack open, without letting him in, her eyes shifting nervously.

“Baby, everything okay?” A man’s voice called her from behind. She nodded, mumbling something to him before stepping into the hallway.

“What the fuck?!”

“SHH, my husband is inside!”

“You said you weren’t together any more”

“I-it’s nothing”

“How the fuck could you” Steve felt his chest tighten, he shouldn’t have even come here, he shouldn’t have been in this position in the first place, it was you in his heart, he loved you.

She scoffed. “You cheated on your wife with me and I’m supposed to hold out for you and expect you to be loyal to me too?”

Steve left without saying another word, anger surging through his body, rage flowing in his veins. How the fuck could he stray from you, he pushed you away every time you tried to take care of him. He took advantage of your kindness, took advantage of how much you trusted him. He couldn’t lose you but you were in his best friend’s arms and Bucky would never do what he did.

The house was utterly destroyed. Anything that came into his hand was shattered against the wall as Steve took all his anger out in the house. Why the fuck did he act so impulsively, how could he let you see that, why the fuck did he let someone else into his life when you were his whole heart.

He stepped into the bedroom, not wanting to touch a single thing that would take away from your presence; he wanted things to be exactly how you left them. He looked at the wedding picture on the table, breaking down into sobs; you were smiling up at him, your eyes bright, looking at him with so much affection. He had his arm around you waist, he promised to love and protect you for as long as he lived. He called you his angel, he told you he’d never hurt you and here he was.

Steve nearly threw up looking at the bed. The sheets were still tangled from that afternoon, pillows thrown aside. He washed them repeatedly, his stomach churning when he could still smell her on them.

Steve thought he was losing his mind, the coldness of the bed. The silence of the house. He could no longer smell your soft scent on the sheets, nightmares plagued his mind. His chest ached thinking about how broken you would have felt seeing him, how meaningless the entire affair was to him and it took away the one thing in his life that gave him a reason to live.

A week later

“Just sign them Steve”

“Baby please don’t do this”

You sighed in frustration having spent hours arguing with Steve as he refused to sign the divorce papers.

“You made your choice, I’m making mine”

“It was a mistake y/n, I- I can’t fucking exist without you-

“You should have thought about that before you fucked someone else in our bed Steve”

“Don’t call me that!” He pleaded with you, hating the way his name sounded, you never called him Steve.

You shook your head, getting up and leaving him with the papers as he cried after you, begging for you to stay.

“Goodbye Steve”

6 months later

You had packed your things, staying with Sarah for the time being until you found your own place. Steve was drinking himself into oblivion, unable to even get drunk from the dark liquid. He hadn’t slept in the bedroom since, staying on the couch instead.

Bucky let himself in the house; not like Steve bothered to lock it any more.

“You have to stop”

Steve scoffed bitterly, taking another swing from his glass, finishing another bottle of whisky.

“Easy for you to say”

Steve felt a pang of anger in his chest, he had no right to be mad at you or Bucky but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t find peace, keeping a sweater you left behind with him when he tried to sleep, crying into it every night.

“Don’t. She loved you”

"But I still love her"

Bucky shook his head, a part of him feeling bad for Steve. He tried so hard to win you back, but the damage was done. The image was burnt in your mind, nothing would ever take that away. You tried to give him one chance but the second he touched you, your mind flashed to the way he touched her. You couldn’t. It was over.

“How is she”

“Doing better. Not great, but better”

3 Years later

You fixed you veil, holding onto your bouquet of flowers as you made your way down the aisle. He stood there, waiting for you, soft blue eyes brimming with tears as he watched you, his chestnut hair combed back, beard trimmed.

“You look amazing y/n” The best man gave you a teasing wink, smiling as you took your place in front of your soon to be husband.  

“Thanks Sam” You grinned,  feeling your face heat up as Bucky lifted your veil, a stray tear slipping out as he look your hands in his, his voice cracking, hardly above a whisper.

“I love you”

***

“You may kiss the bride”

You giggled as Bucky gently cupped your face, pulling you into the sweetest loving kiss, everyone in the crowd clapping and cheering, your heart fluttering with happiness. You were so in love with him; you thought you knew what love and happiness was before but nothing compared to this. This moment; so pure, so full of love.

***

Bucky held you close to him, his hands on your waist as you both swayed to your first dance as husband and wife. His hand tipped your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips; he was so utterly and deeply in love with you.

“You look gorgeous tonight Mrs. Barnes”

You giggled shyly, taking his hand in yours as the song came to an end. You made your way through the crowd, greeting guests,

“Congratulations, I’m happy for you” Steve smiled softly looking at you in Bucky’s arms. He wanted to mean what he said but his heart was still in pain. He had you and he let you go. He wanted to feel happy for you, happy for Bucky but it was too much. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, blinking back tears as you looked up at Bucky, in pure happiness.

“Thanks punk” Bucky gave him a quick hug, keeping you by his side as you both continued to greet guests.

“They’re so sweet” Sarah giggled watching you both sneak quick kisses, Bucky whispering something in your ear making you gasp before playfully slapping his chest. Steve felt his chest tighten, getting up and leaving the room, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

He closed his eyes. He remembered the way you looked at him when you walked down the aisle. The way you looked so angelic in your dress. The way you danced together for the first time, your arms draped around his shoulders, his hands holding you close. The pure love he felt for you, he told himself he’d never let you cry. All the times he stopped trying because you had enough love for the both of them. He remembered the day he met her.  He hesitated but gave into his desires, the side of him that need to feel wanted by others, thinking you were with him because you loved him but he needed more. To be desired. And now here he was. He’d never be able to love again; it’d never be the same. He had the one person that would love him unconditionally and he threw it all away.

“You gotta let her go” Sam broke Steve out of his spiral, patting his shoulder lightly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “C’mon, I’ll take you home”

Steve sighed, as he watched longingly. The shy smiles, gentle touches, whispering sweet nothings to each other, he’d never get you back. You’d found your forever, your happy ending.

-

"M'always gonna love you, you have my heart" Bucky whispered against your shoulder, his bare skin pressed against yours as you both caught your breath. His fingers gently grazed your scalp, kissing your forehead, a part of him still wondering if it was all a dream.

The woman he loved so dearly under him while he made love to her on their wedding night.

Her soft thighs wrapped around his waist.

Her moans of pleasure all just for him.

All of his spend filling her up time and time again until he had no more to give.

It was all too perfect, too much too-

"And you have mine" You whispered back, draping your arms around your husbands shoulders, your hand snaking up to card your fingers through his hair, "I love you too"

And just like that it was all perfect.

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

[sansaorgana]

Buck’s gal getting injured on base (twisted ankle or scrape - nothing major) and him just running off only hearing “she got hurt” to find her

hiii, it's me again 😌 with the second fic today because I'm trying to work on as many requests as I can since I don't have any plans this weekend and the amount of them in my inbox is lowkey stressing me out, not gonna lie 🤣 I love to write for Buck, though, so it's fine 💐

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

You would always wait for him when he was coming back from the missions. You were the only face Buck wanted to see first anyway and he kept searching for you through the crowd each time. Seeing you cheering for him would make him smile and his heart slow down its pounding in his chest.

But this time you were not there. His eyes were scanning through the crowd of men and women but you were not one of them. People approached him to congratulate him and pat his back but he did not pay much attention to it. He wanted to find his girl first. You would be the one to ground him after the mission and only after your sweet kiss he would be able to talk to these people or answer their questions.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He kept asking but no one knew. Some didn’t even notice your unusual absence.

“You’re asking ‘bout (Y/N)?” Harry approached him. “She’s in the sickbay,” he explained and Buck’s heart skipped a beat at that. How could Harry be so casual about it…?

“What do you mean she’s there? What happened?!”

“I’ve no idea. Some accident. Buck, hey,” Harry tried to grab his friend’s sleeve, “you have to be interrogated first.”

“I don’t care,” Buck drawled out and hurried to the sickbay, not reacting to Harry and other men calling out for him. He was breaking a rule, he was aware. But there were more important things.

You were the most important thing.

Buck stormed inside the sickbay and looked around. One of the nurses sighed at the sight of him, already suspecting who he was looking for.

“She’s over there,” she pointed at the bed in the corner and Buck thanked her before rushing to your side.

You were reading a book and didn’t notice him at first, invested in the plot of some romance novel one of the nurses had lended to you. It was a nice distraction from the pain and from the stress. Buck was up in the air and you tried not to think about it too much.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” His deep voice brought you back to reality. You looked up and smiled widely at the sight of him.

“Oh! You’re back! You’re back!” You put the book away and extended your arms towards him.

“Yes, baby, I am,” he sat on the edge of your bed and took his cap off before leaning in to hug you. “What happened? Why are you here?!”

“You’re going to laugh at me,” you giggled.

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his brows, worried.

“I was in the archives, I tried to reach for the top shelf and I stood on the stool, right…” you started.

“Without taking off your heels first?” Buck sighed, knowing already what happened. He had been warning you about it each time he’d catch you doing it.

“Yes,” you looked down, ashamed. “And yeah, I fell down…” You paused and then you burst out laughing. “Oh, Buck, I’m glad you weren’t there.”

“I’d catch you if I were,” he lifted your chin up so you’d look at his face again.

“Yeah, no. Because…” you giggled, “...oh, baby, I fell down with the whole rack!” You laughed once again at how ridiculous you had to look when you had been found by the Colonel.

Buck chuckled finally, too.

“I’m so clumsy, it’s embarrassing,” you sighed.

“No, don’t say that,” he caressed your cheek. “Where does it hurt?” He asked.

You pushed your blanket aside and he hissed at the sight of your scratched knees and bruised hip.

“Yeah, not a very pleasant sight,” you admitted and covered yourself again. “The Colonel is more worried about that rack, though.”

“Of course he is,” Buck rolled his eyes.

“I’m scared that I’ll end up with scars on my knees,” you whispered. “I’m going to have ugly knees.”

“Well, that’s what you get for not listening to me, doll,” Buck bopped you on the nose.

“Will you still love me when I have ugly knees?” You asked shyly and he laughed.

“Oh, no, I can’t bear such a thought. I think I will be forced to look for a new girl with nicer knees. You see, knees are the most important part of a woman,” he teased but you didn’t find it funny and you pouted. “Oh, darling, I was joking,” he leaned in closer to place a kiss on your forehead. “I will always love you,” he promised and you smiled at him sweetly, “even with ugly knees.”

“Cleven,” Colonel’s voice made you both look up, “you should be in the interrogation.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m going now,” Buck put his cap back on and stood up.

“Both you and your girl are such menaces today,” Colonel Harding gave you an unpleasant look and you giggled.

“Oh, Colonel,” you rolled your eyes, “don’t you know trouble comes in pairs?”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[minus-plus-zer0]

Tattoos

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Established relationships, aged up

Many Japanese establishments didn't look too kindly to those who publicly wore tattoos, so Bakugou never thought of getting one. He's always surprisingly straight-edge like that. But you often wondered to yourself what Bakugou would look like with tattoos running across his biceps and forearms, or even against his back. It wouldn't hurt. He'd look great leaning more into his 'bad boy' aesthetic.

One day, when you two were at home together, you pulled out a sharpie and snuck up on him while he sat on the couch. Naturally, he eyed you with great suspicion.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he said, immediately on guard.

"Nothing," you said, sitting down next to him and pulling off the cap.

"You're fucking doing something!" he cried. "You're definitely doing something."

Bakugou got defensive, ready for any kind of horrible assault you could unleash upon his pure, innocent self.

"Relax, Katsuki. I just wanna see your arms."

"Perv." He perked up with a smirk. "'Course you wanna see my arms. You always wanna see my arms."

You pinched his cheek and he wriggled out of your grasp. "Could it kill you to be humble for once? I'm not a pervert, I just thought it'd be super cute if you got some new tattoos!"

"Hold it!" He grabbed both of your wrists. "What the fuck are you gonna draw on me?"

"Oh honey, I didn't think that far ahead yet. But trust me, it will be very pretty and very, very you!" You nuzzled his nose.

He glowered at you, unmoving after your nose assaulted his. But he couldn't say no to you after that eskimo kiss, it was so cute it could've been illegal. You knew this and weaponized your cuteness regularly.

"Fucking fine," he said, freeing your wrists from his iron grip. "But only the arms. And I'll be watching you." His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Who me?" You looked at him innocently and totally oblivious to whatever could've made him suspicious of you. "Don't worry Katsuki, I'll be gentle..."

"Sure you will."

You soon got to work, your ideas soon taking form. Bakugou adored how the artsy side of your brain worked on his body. Regardless of the quality, he enjoyed seeing you could decorate his arms with your vision. Without you pranking him or drawing anything absurd, this felt a little intimate.

Your hands moved quickly, sharpie running across the hard sculptures of his bicep and forearms. Your black designs accentuated his muscles, and your non-drawing hand loved feeling up his arms as you curled up on the couch beside your man.

Bakugou just watched you. Less like a hawk, and more lovingly. You looked so pretty with your head tilted down, focused and deep in thought. He kissed the crown of your head just to distract you. You ignored him and persevered.

"All done!"

Your design was simple yet long, curly in all the right places. It really emphasized all the right contours of his muscles. Bakugou flexed his arm and turned it around, checking it out.

"Not fucking bad," he said. "Seriously thought you were gonna prank me again."

"I couldn't pass up seeing you with some tattoos," you said. "You'd look hot with tattoos all over."

"Perv." He poked you on the nose, giving you another lopsided-grin. He cocked his head. "You just wanna draw all over me, is that it?"

"Aw come on, can you blame me? I'm a little artist."

"No, I think you got the right idea. Gimme the sharpie, I wanna draw something myself..."

(I'm in a writing rut so I haven't been posting a lot lately but I will post more fics within the upcoming days!)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The world blurs around Barrett's body. His corpse. Dead. Gone. Over. All of it. Even knowing you were on your way out, you're not ready for this.

You stare at him, even as bodies move between you, even as voices talk to you. You can't look away. How could one night end like this?

You stand as someone grabs your arm. You shrug them off and cross the room. Right as your about to reach for your husband, a wall forms between you. And officer comes into focus as he calmly blocks your path.

"Ma'am, you can't touch him." He girds.

"He's my husband. I just want to say good-bye." You sniffle and wince at the fiery pain in your nose.

"You can't." He crosses his arms and nods to one of the men in black. There's more suits than uniforms there.

You look around and take in the crowd of strange faces. They don't belong here. They shouldn't be here. Barrett should be alive!

"She's in shock." A shudder rolls through you as Steve steps up and pats your shoulder.

"She needs to see a paramedic."

"She does. Come on." He nudges you away from the scene. You plant your feet. You don't want to go. You don't want to leave. Not anymore. Not knowing you won't ever see him again.

Steve leans in and lowers his voice, "move or I'll make you."

The sharp whisper pierces. You wince and shuffle away. A new spring of tears flows free. You mop your face and whimper as you touch your swollen nose.

You're taken into the hall. Another uniform approaches. This one white. The woman pulls on gloves and talks to you. You have no answer for her as your eyes zero in on the open door of your apartment.

"Not broken. Should go down." The paramedic declares as she drags a sterile wipe around your nostrils. "Split the bridge but a few days and some ice, you'll be good as new."

She applies a strip over the broken skin and leaves you be. Steve looms. He paces between you and the door. A man in a suit appears and calls him 'Captain'.

"Keep an eye on her," he orders.

Confused, you look around. Bucky's shadow clears and he gives you a dull glance. He tucks his phone away and steps up to lean on the wall next to you. He crosses his arms.

Where the hell are you going to go? Your husband is dead. Your apartment is a crime scene. And you're knocked up woth a stranger's baby. Yes. A stranger. You might know his face and his name but you do not know Steve Rogers.

When he reappesrs, you shrink down. He nears and points down the hall. "Free to go. Come on."

You look to the end of the hall and back to him. Wendy is waiting for you. You stand straight and Steve cordons you off with his arm before you can pass him.

"My bag." You utter.

"Evidence. Let's go."

You lean back in your heel. "I'm not going with you."

He scowls and Bucky sets his feet flst. You glance between them.

"You don't go with me and I'll have them take you to the precinct," Steve sneers.

"Okay," you shrug.

"Okay?" He growls, pausing to peer around. "Your friend is worried, right? Waiting for you. Don't worry, she got your message. You're not going."

"Huh?"

He flips his hand up and wags your phone, "lucky they didn't confiscate it."

"You can't do this."

"I can do what I want for the good of my baby." He huffs and nods at Bucky. "Let's. Go."

You rip away from the other man as he reaches for you. You hug yourself and turn down the hall. There is no argument to be had. Everyone there is on Cap's side.

"One sec. I forgot something." Steve backs up and slides your phone into his jacket pocket.

He turns and strides back into the apartment. You wait with Bucky as he slips his own phone put and taps with his metal thumb. He chuckles and tucks it away again.

Steve emerges with his shield in hand. The edge is stained dark red. You garble and cover your mouth as you gape at the hue of Barrett's blood.

"Alright, sweetheart," Steve steps up next to you. "Can't have a pregnant woman on her feet all night.”

You hesitate before you fall into step. The buzz of activity fades behind you as the elevator button lights up beneath Steve's fingertip. You stand between the super soldiers as you wait for the doors to part. Your head swims and you feel the world drop out from under you. Your ears ring and the air chafes your throat.

“Mind if I take off?” Bucky asks as he steps through the doors. Steve drags you inside when you don't react.

“Sure, think I can handle it from here,” you turn to face the doors as they glide shut and close you in with your new nightmare.

“Thanks, bud,” Bucky snickers.

“She waitin’ up?” Steve asks.

“Doesn't matter. I'll wake her up if need be.”

The men's laughter skews into a cacophony. It's all so funny to them. Your husband is dead, your life is over, but they can stand their and chatter like a pair of frat boys.

[kryannoy]

Hey, can we have a Yan!Andrew Graves with Reader?

genre: sfw, headcanons + fic

characters: yandere!andrew graves x reader

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive andrew

a/n: i don't normally write yandere characters so this was a bit of a challenge. hope this suits your request and enjoyed reading!

He's so obsessed with you but he's subtle with it—more like whatever stupid thing he does, he'll make sure you don't see it.

When he loves you, he'll make sure to keep you happy just so you will always come to him whenever something happens. He'll open a bottle cap for you without being told, he'll wipe your mouth with his fingers if it's messy—totally not putting them in his mouth afterwards. He'll open the door for you, let you cry on his shoulder, gives you hugs when you need it. Every subtle thing to manipulate you into coming back to him when you need support.

If someone talks to you, he'll be right behind you with arms wrapped around your waist while glaring daggers at the other person.

"No, no. Continue. Don't mind me, pretend that I don't exist."

To you, his tone sounds normal but to the poor guy, it's like a cleaver skinning them alive.

If someone even looks at you without you knowing, it's gonna be hell for them. He somehow won't be afraid to kidnap that person, tie them up and threaten them with Andrew's favorite cleaver until the person is diagnosed with PTSD.

He will shamelessly go back to you with a smile on his handsome face as if nothing happened.

Andrew would kill anyone for you but if you tell him not to, he won't.

Although, he knows you would be scared if you saw him murdering people, he won't do it anyways. The last thing he wants is you running away from him.

You have no idea why people start to turn their backs on you and you would think that you've done something wrong. So, you ask Andrew for advice or if he knows anything, exactly what he planned for.

And he would smile innocently from his success and spread out his arms. You would dive into his comfy sweater without knowing the hands that are holding you are the hands that have done so many questionable and criminal acts.

"C'mere you. Aw, you poor thing! I'm sure no one hates you. Who would? They're probably out of social energy from a rough day or something. Don't you worry!"

He'll kiss your forehead, then your nose, and lastly, your lips. You would smile and he would smile into the kiss while thinking how naive you are.

He admits sometimes that he feels guilty for deceiving you but what can he do? How could he come up to you and admit to all the crimes he's done? You wouldn't look at him the same anymore, would you? Would you still love him despite knowing what he did or what he ate? He wouldn't take any risks. If he has the person he loves the most in his arms, why would he easily throw you away?

If the truth hasn't been told, he'll keep you for himself. He'll keep you forever.

You knew he acted differently than normal people. He's a little different because of his upbringing, and that's normal for kids with neglected parents growing up with a weird habit of theirs and that was just his charm, right?

Because you think it was just a charm of his, you didn't run when you had the chance to. Besides, if he was so sweet to you, so kind to you, so good to you, he wouldn't hurt you, would he?

There's a reunion dinner later tonight with your old high school mates and of course you're coming. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. You've already informed Andrew of this and for the past week he was okay with it, but why is his tone now sounded . . . different?

"You're going?" He asked from the couch. One of his legs propped up on the other and an arm over the couch. His green eyes look up and down at your fit that he knows you chose the best from your closet. You're going to meet some nobodies with that outfit? You didn't even wear something so pretty when he's around! Not that you aren't pretty. It's just you put a tiny bit less effort when going out or being with Andrew.

"I've already told you, haven't I?" You're putting on your shoes at the front door and you hear some shuffling. Your hand is at the doorknob now. "I'll be back before ten. I prom—"

The door slams shut again before you could even open a crack. You can feel him behind you. His hands on the door, caging you between him and the solid wood.

"You are not going." His voice is low, almost threatening.

You turn around to face. You do not want to have this conversation right now. You're going to be late, that is if you find a way to stir this around to go your way.

"Andrew, this is unfair. Last week, you told me I can go so why are you backing out now? Tonight of all days!"

It wasn't his intention to upset you nor ruin your night but why are they taking you away from him?

"Why are you still excited about going? Don't you remember what they've done to you? They isolated you . . . remember?"

They isolated you. Yeah, right. He was the reason behind it anyways, but poor you who loves him too never suspected your own boyfriend was the culprit.

"They . . . didn't. You said they didn't have the energy to talk," your voice was almost a whisper. You weren't even confident of your own answer. You're starting to reminisce about the old days at school. Sure, they didn't talk to you anymore, but the reunion dinner is going to be different, right?

His hand moves down to lock the door but his actions made you take a step back, hitting the door. You forgot you're kind of trapped right now with no way out unless reasoning with him first.

"You don't really have to go . . ." The same hand moves up to your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear ever so gently it's almost . . . unnervingly creepy. "Do you?"

His eyebrow raised in question.

Your heart is starting to pick up its pace. Your fingertips are running cold. You don't understand yourself why you're so nervous in front of him. I mean, you had been nervous around him but this is a different kind of nervous. It's fear. Fear of him. However, he never hurt you yet. He never raised his voice to you. He's always been nice and sweet to you. But you really can't help this weird feeling.

So you slowly tell him how you feel.

"You're scaring me."

And there it is. It hit something in him. It's the last thing he wants, but the first thing to make you listen to him.

You can see his facial expression changes from demanding to guilt.

"Love, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me!" His caging arms now freeing you while backing away a bit, most likely a tactic to show you he's innocent. "I'm just saying, wouldn't you be left out at dinner? I don't want my pretty girl coming home sad and disappointed when the past week you've been so excited about this dinner."

Andrew takes your silence to continue. "Stay here. With me."

You really want to insist on going yet you don't want to risk starting a fight. But it's unfair! You always let him win you over, now he needs to listen and let you go. Maybe a small chance could probably lead to a huge success.

"But please!" You drag the word longer, hoping he'll give in. "I haven't seen my friends for I don't how many years. It's just this once."

You seem energetic again. He takes this chance to step closer, a hand on the side of your face. His thumb brushes along your glossed lips you put on earlier, smudging it. His gaze move up from your lips to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling, but no means no." He said it so softly before he kissed you longingly. You somehow melt into him despite your disagreement. He's really not losing—like always.

He broke off the kiss to continue persuading you to stay. "I'm doing this for your own good. Sometimes you're too naive to be staying around them. You're too nice. I've seen it. And it hurts to watch you being used and throw you away."

You exhale a deep breath from the stress. Maybe Andrew's right. Maybe you are too naive to realize. They asked you for homework and notes, but then one day, they stopped talking to you. Maybe they really did see no use in you they've fulfilled their satisfaction.

But Andrew . . . Andrew never stopped talking to you. Andrew never threw you away. Andrew was always there through it all. Andrew never left you by yourself.

Like right now.

"Okay," you spoke softly, like a whisper, before nodding your head. "I'll stay in with you."

Good thing you were looking at the ground because now, Andrew can't hide the big smile on his face. He successfully manages to keep you by his side. His heart beats rapidly from the excitement, his skin was buzzing. He can be with you tonight. He can stay with you. Just the two of you!

He pulls you in his arms and strokes your hair. "That's my good girl. Always so obedient." He kisses the crown of your head before leading you to your bedroom so you can change to a more comfortable clothes.

He dreams of having you by his side forever but he doesn't want to go to extreme measures such as locking you in or tying you up. Maybe not just yet. Since you're so good to him and love him too, you deserve to roam around freely until you start to disobey.

He wouldn't want to do it but tonight, he was close to doing so just from how persistent you were.

[python333]

your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good

don't breathe — python333

— — — —

synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha

relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.

characters cap. john price.

word count 2.7k

warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!

“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.” 

You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now—at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.

The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago. 

Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.

You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late. 

As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath. 

You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.

You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left. 

You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.

“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?” 

It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening. 

Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind. 

What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me? 

Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece. 

“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking. 

“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?” 

“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment. 

“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?” 

“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—” 

“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.” 

With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath. 

A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again. 

“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—” 

His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear. 

“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it. 

“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.” 

“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?” 

“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”

“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?” 

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?” 

“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.” 

Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?” 

“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.” 

“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?” 

“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?” 

“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.” 

“Why’d it take you so long to answer?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?” 

“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—” 

Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too. 

Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet. 

“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?” 

You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed. 

“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…” 

“… Oxygen?”

“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.” 

“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.” 

“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth. 

You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?” 

It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…” 

“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.” 

“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away. 

After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.

Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before. 

Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed. 

— 

For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates. 

You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.

“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows. 

“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you. 

You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly. 

Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well. 

Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one. 

After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head. 

He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more. 

Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back. 

“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”

You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.” 

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”

He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—” 

“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together. 

Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin. 

“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit. 

“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.” 

“You had the right to.” 

“Sure I did.” 

“But you didn’t blame me.”

“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.” 

“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.” 

Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.

[il-predestinato]

hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

[loganwritesprobably]

Save Me

Law & Reader fic for anon for my 200 followers event

Content/Warnings: Law & GN!Reader, angst, Law doing doctor things, reader struggles with mental health, inspired by how to save a life by The Fray

"Hey, make some time to come to my office today." Law told you in passing when you were leaving breakfast, and he was just arriving. What? That was a little ominous, but you just nodded and continued on your way. You had things to do, maintenance around the tang, so you set about your tasks. Law's words rang in the back of your mind for the rest of the day, haunting you while you tried to focus.

Around lunch time, you knew you needed to go see him, because if you didn't you'd just be distracted, unable to work as his words were all you could think about. A dozen possibilities circulated in your mind, but you couldn't guess what it was he wanted to discuss.

You knocked gently on the door to his office, and when there was no response indicating whether you could or couldn't enter, you slowly opened the door and peeked your head through to see Law sitting at his desk and working on papers. "You wanted to see me?" You said, hesitating there in the doorway. "Oh yes, come in and just sit down." Law said, quickly shuffling his papers together and off to the side of his desk. You did as he asked, pausing before you sat in the chair opposite him rather than on the examination table. Now this was really odd. "What was it you needed, Captain?" You asked after a brief, awkward silence. "I just wanted to talk to you about some.. things you've said recently." You said a lot of things, so that wasn't particularly helpful, but it was something at least. You had a brief flash of concern when for just a moment you thought maybe you'd upset someone on the crew, which was of course the last thing you would ever want to do.

"Everyone is worried about you." Law said, and all the air rushed from your body. Oh. Now you understood. At least you knew what was happening now. "Oh. Okay.." You trailed off, unsure of what he wanted you to say to that. Clearly, Law wasn't too sure what he wanted to say either. He knew the conversation was important, and apparently was needed, but he just didn't know how to do it. Silence followed where the two of you sat, fidgeting, uncomfortable but with no words to share.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Captain." You said, hoping to prompt.. something. Anything really. "You know we all care about you, right? We'd miss you if you were gone." The words left Law in a rush, as if he needed to force them out, and you weren't surprised that it felt like that. You all knew he cared about you sure, but he wasn't often verbally affectionate. "I know Cap. Logically.. I know." "But that doesn't make a difference." Law finished, a knowing expression on his face. As if he'd experienced something like that before. "Yeah." You agreed, voice just a whisper. That was exactly it. Sometimes it didn't matter how much you knew that the crew cared for you, because the voice in your head would whisper that they didn't really, that they were only pretending. It was exhausting both to listen and to ignore it.

"You know if there was more I could do for you, I would. If you would talk to me I could.. prescribe you something? It might help." Law offered tentatively, but you just shook your head. You really didn't like the idea of being medicated. It wasn't something that you wanted, unless necessary. "And isolating yourself isn't a solution - don't think we don't see you doing it. It makes you worse, and I think you know that too." You looked down at your feet with a sigh, not giving him a response. Of course you knew, but it just wasn't that easy. But then, he knew that too. Law had been through the ringer, he understood if nobody else did.

"I want help, Cap." You whispered, and Law rounded his desk to pull you to his chest. Law was prone to small, casual acts of physical touch like patting someone's back or leaning against them - but a hug was special. You embraced him in return, clutching at him like he was a lifeline. "I've got you. I'm here."

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[annievrse]

treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen

satoru x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: you and gojo like each other, that much is obvious. how he goes about it though, your friends aren't the biggest fans (and neither are you). w/c: 2.1k

“why does everything with you have to be so difficult?” 

shoko and suguru grumble from their spots next to and diagonal to you, respectively, but you ignore them. your focus is on satoru, who sits directly across from you, his hands clasped on the table before him.

the white-haired man wiggles his eyebrows. “it’s fun getting you all riled up.”

rolling your eyes, you take the last chocolate mochi from the package and shove it in your mouth, narrowing your eyes at satoru. all he does is smile widely and push his sunglasses into his hair.

"is that good?"

you don't miss the teasing undertones of his words, and stop chewing, a sudden tang of something in your mouth.

shoko tenses next to you, anger radiating off her. "gojo, i swear, if you–"

noticing his friend's bouncing knee and suppressed smile, suguru sighs. "he did," he mumbles, rubbing his face with his palm.

you shake your head, gathering the mochi you've chewed in one lump before you spit it out into the white box it came in. "what the fuck?"

holding an empty ketchup and mustard packet between his pointer and middle finger, satoru breaks into a fit of giggles.

with tears in your eyes from the disgusting taste of chocolate mixed with the condiments, you glare up at him. "this is why girls don't like you."

"oh please," satoru laughs, his eyes gliding over shoko and suguru, who don't smile. his own fades slightly, and when his gaze returns to you, it disappears off his cheeks. "come on! it was a little funny."

"we've somewhere to be," shoko stands, grabbing your hand to pull you up. "no boys allowed."

"wha–"

pulling you through the crowded outside area of the cafe, shoko throws satoru one last glare before smiling at suguru. "bye!"

you didn't mean for him to hear the whole story, in fact, he wasn't meant to know at all. sitting in shoko's dorm, you recount the events that happened earlier in the day.

you were grabbing lunch at the cafe down the street and replacing the chocolate mochi that satoru had ruined for you when you ran straight into nanami kento. he's a student in the same year as you, and he was extremely friendly and offered to carry your bags on the route back to campus.

"he's sweet," shoko comments, painting her middle finger a deep purple.

"he is!" you nod. "satoru would never."

shoko lifts her head from her hand and tilts her head. "he does for me when i let him."

your forehead creases and your stomach drops. "really?"

she nods and dips the brush into the nail polish bottle. "suguru offers more, forces me to give him my bags, but satoru does sometimes."

you turn your attention to your toenails, red, and the brush you hold limply in your fingers.

"hm," you hum, choosing to concentrate on painting your nails instead of satoru's chosen courtesy.

a sudden, loud pounding on the door almost makes you drop the nail polish, but then satoru is entering and flopping down on shoko's bed, shoes and coat on.

"shoes off right now, gojo."

"yes, miss," he mumbles, toeing off his adidas. then, satoru rolls over and presses his face into your hip.

"get off," you spit, suddenly angered by his presence.

"what?" he asks, head lifting off the mattress quickly. "what's your problem?"

scoffing, you shift away from him. "you!"

satoru sits up, eyes squinting at you. "me?"

"yes!" you slam the capped bottle onto the bedside table and stand up. "you know what happened today?"

satoru tilts his head in question, waiting for you to continue.

"kento helped me carry my bags back here. when was the last time you did that for me?"

"woah, woah! what? nanami?"

you nod.

"nanami kento, the nerd? he helped you? what did he say to you? did he try to chat you up?"

"chat me up?" you gape. "that's all you're worried about right now? whether a guy tried to ask me out?"

"what else should i be worried about?"

you glance at shoko, but she shakes her head, choosing to stay out of the argument.

"you're kidding."

satoru shrugs and stands too, looking down at you, but his height never intimidates you.

"you're too good for him," satoru laughs, waving his hand like the motion and his words would dismiss the entire conversation.

"who are you to decide that?"

"considering i've been your best friend for like 14 years, i think i know your worth, and it's definitely higher than his."

"you're deluded," you chided. "and who, exactly, would you allow me to be with? whose worth is equal to mine?"

satoru rolls his eyes and gestures to himself. "me, obviously."

you choke out a laugh and watch when his face falls. "sho, have you ever met anyone so delusional?"

"alright," shoko says, nervously looking at satoru.

you swear your eye twitches. "satoru, i will literally eat you. shut up." satoru's solemn expression makes your stomach do funny things.

choosing to defuse the situation instead of making it worse, shoko tries to poke fun. "you're jealous, gojo. we get it, it's okay."

spinning to meet shoko's gaze, satoru blushes a deep pink that you can't see. "no," and the shaking of his head tensely and the widening of his eyes has shoko snickering because she sees right through him. she doesn't realise she is right on the money.

"bye." and then he's out the door, his shoes in his hand.

"man, he's got problems. who does he think he is?"

shoko sighs, a faint smile on her lips. "agreed."

"call me that one more time and see what happens."

you roll your lips between your teeth, a smile threatening to break across your face. "gojo, gojo, gojo."

"satoru!" he pouts. "you always call me satoru. stop that."

you giggle into your hand, satoru's fallen expression causing you to burst. you'd both clearly forgotten what happened at shoko's yesterday, and it was obvious when said girl looked at your expressions. this always occurred between you and satoru, nothing was ever that serious, but to onlookers, it was odd, to say the least. shoko always questioned whether she knew either of you as well as she thought because it was clear you and satoru were each other's makers.

satoru's eyes shift under his purple sunglasses, mischief swimming in his blue irises. then, satoru steps toward you, placing his hands on the back of your arms. "don't make me shake you."

"satoru," you whisper, peering up at him. at the sound of his name, he visibly melts. his shoulders relax, and his face morphs into relief.

"thank you," satoru nods, rubbing your skin. "now, was that so hard?"

"i dont know, gojo, you tell me."

"are we gonna stop them soon?" suguru asks shoko where they sit on the picnic bench. the girl rolls her eyes and sighs.

"gojo! quit. leave her alone."

the white-haired man turns his head sharply, eyes lasering into shoko's. "if you don't like it, you can leave, ieiri."

"gojo," shoko deadpans. "calling me by my family name doesn't bother me."

ignoring her, satoru turns back to you. "fine." and then he backs up, hands in the air. "if you hate me so much, i guess i'll cancel our reservations at the karaoke place on friday."

"no," suguru cuts in, standing from the bench. "don't be ridiculous, satoru. we've been waiting for that for weeks."

satoru shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. "if someone doesn't fix their attitude, it's not happening."

this time, both you and shoko are rolling your eyes—you because satoru is being annoying, and shook because you won't give in.

"you could end this right now, you know?" she calls to you.

sighing, you shrug. "it's more fun when he's like this."

shoko mumbles under her breath and picks up her bag. "you two were made for each other. i'm off. c'mon suguru."

despite gojo's threats, karaoke went ahead on friday.

you and shoko showed up a little late due to a wardrobe malfunction. emerging from the train station, you see suguru and satoru sitting with their backs against the brick wall of the small restaurant next to the karaoke joint.

"about time!" satoru exclaims, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "we were about to go in there and sing 'my heart will go on' without you."

suguru rolls his eyes and stands. "ignore him."

you nod. "already do."

satoru's jaw goes slack, and he clambers upright. "rude."

"alright," shoko shrugs her bag higher on her shoulder. "let's sing."

the night wasn't going as you had anticipated. shoko accidentally knocked her drink over your top, leaving it wet and sticky and smelling of tequila, suguru passed the microphone a little too hard at you and ended up hitting you in the temple, and satoru offered you his hoodie.

now, this isn't an issue, considering you've been friends for longer than you hadn't and wore various parts of his closet for fun sometimes. but the matter is, his ex-girlfriend gave him his hoodie, and it was damn expensive too. you and her didn't struggle to get on, no, it was the notion that she felt threatened by you in private. while they were together, it was a secret that she felt this way, so when satoru told you why they broke up, you felt bitterly about her. thinking you were friends with your best friend's, albeit crush's girlfriend, was both a relief and depressing.

so, the hoodie is a problem.

but satoru was happy to throw the garment at your head, yell "cover up that ugly top", and continue screaming the lyrics to 'teenage dream' by katy perry.

but, it's a problem that you endure because satoru is giving you his hoodie. pulling it over your head and threading your arms into the sleeves was fine. the material was soft, and the hoodie was slouchy and comfortable. and it wasn't until you pulled the hood over your head that you finally acknowledged the scent of him. and then your mind started to wander.

was he only giving you this hoodie to quash all feelings you had for him? did he know? was this one of his tricks to get you to like him like that? isn't that what he did to all the girls? what did he call it again?

treat 'em mean to keep 'em keen? yeah, that's the one. but this was a little too mean for you, and you couldn't help the sour attitude brewing in your stomach.

you felt your cheeks heating up and immediately had to dispel your awkward stillness. "this smells so bad. do you even wash your clothes 'toru?"

"pfft," he scoffs, the music changing on the screen behind him. "says you! you might have to keep that after wearing it. i can't stand your stench."

shoko snatches the microphone out of his hand and pushes him off the small stage. "move, it's my turn."

stumbling, satoru takes a seat next to you. you don't look up at him, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"you look cute in that, actually," he mumbles as the tune to 'the sweet escape' fades in.

"shut up," you say, leaning on him, watching shoko and suguru make the chorus a duet.

"sorry."

you furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him. "what for?"

"i know you know where the hoodie's from. i shouldn't have said that."

you shake your head, the tips of your ears burning. "it's fine."

"take it off," he grumbles, fingers playing with the hem of the jumper.

startled, you rest your hands on him. "no, it's fine. my top's ugly anyway, and it smells."

satoru huffs. "your top isn't ugly. it's hot," his eyes burn through the material on your chest and you inhale sharply.

"satoru," you whisper dangerously. your eyes widen when you realise where his gaze lays and you slap his bicep. "stop."

maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you'd both gotten tired of teasing that the only thing left to do was to air out how you felt (finally).

"surely you have to know how i feel about you," he exhales a laugh and turns to your best friends who are dancing to 'can't get you out of my head'. "i know i can be a dick, but you're no angel either."

your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek, suppressing a laugh. "fair. but i love annoying you."

"likewise," he winks. "let me take you out properly?"

the question takes you off guard, and you glance at shoko and suguru, who are paying you no mind. "because you and i are worth the same?"

satoru opens his mouth to reply, probably one that would get him smacked, but the silence of the room cuts him off.

"gojo, remove your hands!" shoko yells into the microphone. you jump in surprise, and gojo drops your hands.

you shrug at satoru and stand, knocking into suguru when he shoves the microphone into your hand.

and 'blah blah blah' plays on repeat in satoru's head until you agree to go out with him, thanks to shoko.

[billybatsonbrainrot]

number 14 for the ask game is very intriguing 👀

Oh Brother: Another Billy and Captain Marvel separation fic! Except this time instead of them posing as father and son, they pose as brothers.

The plot is still being figured out, but the idea is straightforward.

Basically, Marvel and Billy do split on some occasions. Usually when Marvel has to do something that is too dangerous or doesn't want Billy to see, like maybe fighting eldritch horrors or fixing cracks in time and space. Any big responsibility that Billy is not ready for, he handles it. It wouldn't be fair to just completely kick Billy out of the mind space and take full control of Captain Marvel when he's doing it, so their solution was to split each other in two as they take care of their different responsibilities.

There is no urgency in putting themselves back together since they separated on their own terms and Marvel made the spell so it wouldn't hurt. They are still bound to each other when they're apart. They always come back to each other anyways.

It's not like Marvel is worried about Billy being defenseless when he leaves. He has a job and an apartment; Billy is more than capable of taking care of himself. Despite all the wards he slapped on him to defend him from everyone and everything, Billy is still the Champion of Magic, he can defend himself just fine. And Marvel is able to teach him magic easier since he is physically there to show Billy the ropes.

Anyways, something happens that leads to Billy being in the watchtower the same time as Marvel. That's when they introduce themselves as brothers to the Justice League. And it feels nice to put a label to their relationship.

They are family. Even though Marvel takes care of Billy sometimes, he is not Billy's father. And Billy never wanted him to be. Being a father and being an older brother are completely different. Billy and Marvel are able to comfortably act as they usually do with each other.

Marvel doesn't need to worry about having to "be a parent" around the Justice League. (He's pretty sure Billy wouldn't even let himself be parented anyways, but he is well behaved and stays out of trouble so there isn't much to worry about. Billy's been up here hundreds of times anyways.) Some of it has to do with them thinking their parents might still be alive, which they don't correct.

It just makes it easier to explain why he isn't with Billy all the time. Their siblings with an age gap, Marvel moved out years ago and of course Billy is still living with his parents, he's only 12. The only time they'll see Billy is if Marvel is "babysitting."

Here's a few scenarios I came up with:

Scenario #1:

Batman: *looking at a picture of Billy and his parents and looks back at Marvel* hmmm...

Marvel: *knowing Billy chose his appearance to resemble his father* I look just like my dad, don't I? 😃

Batman: ...

Marvel: 😅

Scenario #2:

JL: Your timeline doesn't really make sense; your parents would have been really young when he had you, Cap.

Billy & Marvel: Well, time just works differently in Fawcett🙄

JL: ...

[eccentricallygothic]

for a fic idea: chris evans x reader going on a date to a carnival and then having a picnic

Thank you so much for the ask/request! This is literally the first Chris as Chris piece I've ever written omg! I prefer to write requests in hc form so I hope you don't mind…? Hope you enjoy <3 

Disclaimer: For whatever it's worth, this is a fictional version of Chris hence fanFICTION because I don't know him in real life and I don't want to either so no silly talk from anyone, please <3

Warning(s): Fluff, kissing, rides, minor consensual groping, tickling, picnic.

Note: Reader is definitely gender-neutral. Requests are open. 

Chris definitely spoils. 

He's one of those boyfriends who tower over pretty much everyone else in the crowd and have to constantly move his broad shoulders around to avoid touching anyone else.

Holds your hand very tight in his bigger one.

Because he knows how upset you get if someone pushes you both apart as it has happened in the past, resulting in you almost getting lost and crying. 

Has to wear a cap to avoid being recognized so you prefer to hang near the areas where there's masquerades and the like so you can enjoy some privacy as well as freedom. 

Buys you basically everything you look at. 

He's definitely the kind of person who is always so excited about the rides that he drags his partner with him while promising them that he will be there with them and they can hold his hand. 

Isn't a lie, man protects you like it's his job. 

But has more embarrassing photos of you on said rides than you'd like to admit. 

So much carnival food and mini games. 

Coming back home from such places with a huge stuffie is mandatory. 

"Chris!" You squeal as you struggle to jog beside him, your breath hot in your masquerade mask and a hand on your bulging tummy. All you had said was that the caramel popcorn smelt nice. And then you had had to deal with a whole tub of it after he had already bought you so many things to eat before. "Hang on, oh my God!" 

It is cute how his 'mature' age has not harmed his vivacity because it makes him so fun to be around. He is very easy going and just plain comfortable. You don't have to worry about pretending in front of him and he doesn't do it either. 

His good nature and open display of his affection for you is always heartwarming and honestly… downright attractive. 

A confident man who plays no games with nothing but love and adoration to offer.  

"Come on, baby! The photo booth is finally empty!" Chris is excited like a child as he basically shoves the coins in the slot. He has had an eye on the previously packed booth for a while now. 

It was little things like this that mattered to him a lot. 

From your favorites to little souvenirs, cute clips and pictures of you to how you liked your drinks, all your little rituals and what each of your facial expressions meant to everything else, he had them all memorized through quiet observation. 

Being the extrovert that he is, your boyfriend is otherwise very vocal about his affection for you but that does not mean that he makes a show of these things. 

They're just little things that he likes to do for you; his precious baby.

You yelp and then giggle when he plops his butt down on the seat inside the booth with a loud smack before pulling you in with him– more like, on him. 

"Chris!" The squeal has no effect on him and he goes on his goofy ways as you both pose with your masks on for some pictures. 

Then something suddenly shifts in your boyfriend, as it often does when you're in his general vicinity, and he pushes his mask up before doing the same to yours after turning your face towards his. 

His lips are on yours before you know it and his hands bolt from your waist and knee right to your ass, the tight squeeze making you draw in a sharp breath against his mouth. 

The clicks of the camera keep on going as you circle his neck with your arms, pulling him closer and letting his tongue dominate your mouth as you whimper from his natural dominance that comes out in moments like these. 

He doesn't have hardcore tastes for intimate activities but he is always willing to try for you. 

"Taste so good as always, baby" Chris is breathless when he finally pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, the reel reaching its limit at the same time; almost as if it's aware of how private the moment is. 

It's the little quirks. How he wraps his arm around your waist when you become too self aware in public sometimes, or how he tightens his hold on your hand when there's a crowd, the way he's always looking over you and covering the edges and corners of the furniture around you with his hand to make sure it doesn't nick you and how he goes the extra mile to make sure you're reassured and comfortable.

You love this man with your whole heart.

"Or maybe it's all that caramel popcorn" you tease and he widens his bright blue eyes, thick lashes decorating the area below his eyebrows in the prettiest way. 

"Caramel popcorn?!" You start giggling at the comical way he says it. "Did someone say caramel popcorn?!" You know what's coming and so your Snickers increase in volume and you protestingly bounce on his lap, vehemently shaking your head and trying to get away but Chris is a strong man. "THE TICKLE MONSTER ALSO WANTS SOME CARAMEL POPCORN!" You throw your head back and your body twists when his fingers dig into your sides, the blush that his kisses had caused on your face now darkening due to how you were screeching against him, your tummy in pain from all the laughing. 

It's only when there's tears in your eyes and the annoyed people waiting outside call out for you two that you sheepishly step out with your masks down.

This particular carnival has cute little tent-like pavilions facing a huge screen in one of the prettiest gardens that you have ever seen. You don't have to do more than tug at Chris' sleeve and he follows your gaze before buying you two a spot. 

He insists that you don't pay for anything and to let him spoil you because all he wants is the unconditional love and genuine companionship that you provide him.

And honestly, who are you to reject all that Marvel money?

Just kids and jokes, of course. You try to chip in when you can but damn, it's hard to do that when your boyfriend is literally Chris Evans. 

The rest of the evening goes by with the both of you sipping some soda and feeding each other light snacks as some romcom plays on the screen, your form perched between his limbs with you back to his chest, Chris' chin propped on the top of your head and his thick arms cocooned around your body. 

.

Really hope you liked it <3 

[forensicheart]

Brother's Teammate

Fernando Alonso x Stroll!Reader

Summary: Lance's sister decides to watch him at his home race, but she finds herself not being able to take her eyes off his teammate instead

Warning/s: Age gap (Reader- 24, Fernando- 42)

A/N: after very close poll results here is the winning fic! I'm considering doing a part two for this one so let me know what you think! <3 (also someone teach me how to use the scheduled posts cause I swear I did it for this but apparently not 😭 many more docs coming very soon!!!)

You had been to quite a few of your brother's races before but once college got busy you couldn't support him as much as you use to. But now you had graduated and eager to get back to watching the track action from your brother's team garage and not your couch.

The first race you were able to attend was also coincidentally Lance's home race. The Canadian Grand Prix. Of course you were beyond excited to watch him race, the days feeling like they dragged on as you counted down wishing for the weekend to come along quicker. Once it did you were getting up extra early to make sure you were ready in time to spend as much time with your brother as possible.

Walking into the paddock you felt a sense of nervousness wash over you. You hadn't been to a race in forever and navigating your way around the place had been easily forgotten now that you were so use to just turning on the tv. Sporting your Aston Martin cap you searched for the matching garage but couldn't seem to spot the green anywhere.

"Excuse me, do you need some help?" You jumped slightly by the sudden voice, stopping to turn around to face the culprit.

"You look quite lost is all" They continued and this time you took note of the accent, Spanish. He was an older looking man, but certainly good for his age. Fernando Alonso, it clicked in your head, your brothers teammate. You blinked as you tried to gather your scrambled thoughts and shot the man a shy smile.

"I wouldn't want to be too much trouble, it seems to be much different from when I was last here" You chuckled awkwardly feeling a tad embarrassed under the now identified man's gaze. But he simply shot you a charming smile and waved his hand, discarding your worries.

"Nonsense, no trouble at all, by the attire it seems we're headed in the same direction anyway" He smirked giving you a once over. Along with the cap a forest green dress adorned your body with full intent to show your pride for Lance's team.

"It seems so" You let out another small, almost awkward, laugh which just made Fernando's smirk widen before he gestured for you to follow.

"Come along then, I'll lead the way" The two of you walked casual pace, as if Fernando didn't need to be preparing for the quickly approaching race. You took in the surroundings as you walked, taking note of particular marks you passed on the way in hopes you would remember for next time. You were lost in your thoughts until you heard Fernando clear his throat making your head snap towards him to see that you were now standing in front of the Aston Martin garage.

"Here we are" He spoke with a gesture towards the garage in which you responded with a smile.

"Thank you, I honestly don't think I ever would've gotten here otherwise" Fernando laughed at your words, sounding like music to your ears as you noticed the way his eyes lit up as he smiled.

"It was my pleasure" He paused for a moment before speaking again. "I don't believe I ever introduced myself, Fernando Alonso, and you are?" He raised a brow sticking out a hand politely to which you took gently in your own.

"I'm-"

"Y/N!" A loud voice interrupted the you, your hand torn out of Fernando's as a body crashed into yours, arms wrapping tightly around you. The breath felt like it had been sucked out of you as the body went you stumbling back a few steps but the familiar hold made you beam with joy as you returned the hug. Pulling away from the hug you find your brother smiling down at you.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to show up" You scoffed at his words playfully rolling your eyes.

"Your home race? I would never miss this opportunity" You smiled brightly at him.

"Well let's give you the grand tour then shall we?" Lance smirked throwing an arm around your shoulder and you nodded with a laugh.

Fernando was forgotten about as the two siblings wondered into the garage with excitement leaving him to get more of a look at what seemed to be his teammates friend? Maybe girlfriend. As Fernando looked her up and down as she walked away though he prayed she wasn't Lance's girlfriend because god she was gorgeous. And her voice, he could listen to her speak til the end of time.

Inside the garage Lance has given you a tour of everything possible, explaining each wonder of yours to the best of his ability. You watched the buzzing garage in awe, listening to your brother's words as you took in everything as if you had never seen it before. It all seemed so different from the last time you had been at any of the races though and you were more than happy to relearn all that your brother loved about his job. You couldn't help but let your eyes drift to the opposite side of the garage though were a certain Spaniard moved purposely in order to ready himself for the upcoming race. Your cheeks flushed a light red as you eyed the way his fireproofs clung to his body. How his dark locks looked so tempting to run your hands through. You were snapped out of your thoughts as Fernando's eyes met yours from across the garage and the smirk that lit his face made your face turn many shades darker. He rose an eyebrow at you in question and you looked away shyly knowing you'd been caught staring at the man. As soon as you turned your attention back to Lance though you felt a presence behind you, one that made you turn around to face as your brother greeted them.

"Ah Fernando! I don't think I introduced you to Y/n before" Lance spoke causing Fernando to shake his head as he confirmed that he had not been introduced.

"This is Y/n, my younger sister" The same smirk you had seen moments before made its way onto Fernando's face once more as he took in the new information of your relationship with his teammate. The smirk quickly transformed into a polite smile though as he avoided raising questions from said teammate.

"A pleasure to meet you" Fernando hummed locking eyes with you, the look he gave made you shiver slightly as you saw the curiosity and desire within his eyes.

"Likewise" You were aware that the feelings hidden in his eyes were also mirrored in yours. This revelation caused Fernando's smirk to form once again. Before Fernando is able to open his mouth again though his name is called from further in the garage.

"Duty calls it seems but I hope to see you around" Fernando finishes with a wink your way as he wonders off. You can't fight the blush that rises as your eyes trail after his body before a gasp sounds from next to you.

"Absolutely not" Lance exclaims sternly as he steps into your eyeline.

"Oh come on, you're no fun" You huff crossing your arms as you roll your eyes at your brother.

"He's my teammate and practically double your age!" Lance makes a point but you simply shrug.

"Sometimes you gotta live a little"

"You're ridiculous" Lance snorts before swinging an arm over your shoulder.

"Come on, let me show you where you'll be watching the race from"

Your brother may have expected you to watch him during the race, and you did for parts of it, but you couldn't stop your gaze from drifting to his teammates car too. The way he drove appeared effortless, overtaking without struggle and quickly placing himself near the front of the pact.

While neither Aston Martin had landed on the podium they found themselves with the front runners causing the garage to erupt in cheers. A 4-5 finish was pretty damn impressive and for a moment you didn't think your smile could get any wider. The cameras panned to Fernando taking off his helmet, his fingers running through his hair as he removed his balaclava and you found yourself staring in awe at the image. He flashed a charming smile as he spotted the camera and it felt as if it was directed to only you. If this is what the races were like then maybe you wouldn't mind coming a bit more often.

[gorgeys]

Madison request maybe a first date kind of thing, based on her recent fair post

you look so good in this light ★ madison beer

Madison Beer x femsinger!reader

your first date at the county fair is picture perfect

Warnings: SUPER fluffy, kissing

Word Count: 600

Note: i'm so obssessed w femsinger!reader so i did that again. but there's only one part in the fic where i really mention that reader is famous.

also send more madison requests 🫠

everything felt strangely normal.  walking arm in arm around the moderately empty fair almost felt too natural and easy. a little voice in the back of your head was waiting for something terrible to happen.

but that bad thing would never come. instead, you lean into madison's side and laugh along to made-up back stories she creates for all the different people you passed.  one of your arms is wrapped tightly around hers, like a toddler refusing to let go of their mommy in fear that she would magically disappear, and the other holding the giant teddy bear she won you at a sharpshooter game.  safe to say you were pleasantly surprised by her skill with the water gun.  but, judging by the proud, all-knowing smile she sent you after the victory bell rang, she wasn't.  you picked out the pink bear with red hearts in it's eyes and proudly held the bear up in front of you, staring into the hearts.

"don't worry, buddy," madison said to the bear while draping a loose arm around your waist.  "i look at her the same way."

your heart swelled in your chest as you turned toward her with the cheesiest smile.  you couldn't help but squeeze her in the tightest hug you had ever given another human being.

"you're the best," you mumbled into her shoulder, just loud enough for her to hear it and smile.

and that was only a fragment of your perfect, official first date together.

you shared pizza and fried oreos, almost threw up on the tilt-a-whirl, and now, you would watch the California sunset from the top of the ferris wheel.

you had let the brim of your tattered high school baseball cap fall low in front of your eyes to avoid being noticed.  miraculously, no one had approached you all night, allowing you some normalcy.  if this is what it felt like to be a regular person, on a regular first date, you would trade fame for regular any day.

but now, as you sit across from her in one of the ferris wheel cars, almost at the top, you remove your cap and smooth out your hair.  when your eyes meet madison's, she's already fixated on you.

the setting sun is perfectly hitting the skin of your face.  you're in your golden hour.

"you look so good in this light," she says so delicately, leaning forward onto the edge of her seat as she studies you like a renaissance painting.

it's impossible to restrain your dumb smile.

"you're straight out of a movie, you know that?" you say, resting your elbow on your knee and your chin in your hand.  you look at her as if she's a rom-com character come to life.  "you're my patrick swayze just way cuter and prettier and...well, better."

she chuckles softly, then places a hand on your knee.

"you know what'd make this a real rom-com?" she asks, that familiar proud expression returning to her face as her nails scratch gently against your skin.

"hmm?" you give her a subtle nod.  the quirk of your lips shows you have a pretty good idea of what she means.

she doesn't have to say anything else. she leans into you and her pink lips make their mark on yours.  her hands move to hold your cheeks, while your own hands loosely hang around her arms.  all is perfect as your car halts at the top of the ferris wheel and the sun tucks itself away into the horizon behind you.

[sanjoongie]

ꓖ𝗼𝖔𝚍 𝒞σр

Sequel to Two-Way

ღPairing: Detective! Seonghwa x criminal! reader (f) ft Detective! Yunho

ღAu: detective au, murder mystery au

ღTrope: s2l

ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut, pwp

ღWarnings: abuse of power, ⚠dub-con⚠, soft dom! hwa, sub! reader, aftercare, voyeurism, begging, overstim, sexual interrogation, multi-orgasm negotiation, fingering, dacryphilia, breast play,

ღWord Count: 1,075

ღSummary: Seonghwa lures the truth from you, fucking you through several orgasms to get results

ღBeta’s: @downtoamagicalland

ღDedication: to @flurrys-creativity, who along with many others, wanted a second part, but this was meant as a present for her to succeed in writing a much delayed fic 😆 i hope my suffering was worth it

"Here," a kind voice said. "It's not much but it's something.” Strong but soft hands raised you to your feet. 

When you didn't respond, the man helped tug your clothes back into place. "I've got some water, you need it.”

You should feel shame through every cell of your being... but you don't. This man, helping you, has seen you in your most debased form. And yet…

“Don’t worry, I hear Seonghwa is pretty long too. He’ll finish what I started. Be a good little slut and show Seonghwa exactly how good your cunt can be for him.”

Was Yunho truly going to let another man finish you off? That wasn't the Yunho you knew. He was a competitor, through and through. There had to be an alternative motive here.

You don't take the water, studying the new detective. He has kind eyes and soft lips. His nose is regal and his jaw sharp. He doesn't look like a mean cop like Yunho could be. But then San's sunshine smile lit through your mind, face splattered with blood. Appearances are definitely fucking deceiving.

“If you're ready, I'd like to go over some footage with you. Ask some questions. All on your time, of course.” His voice was lulling and melodic. His tone whispered to trust him. He patted the back of a chair, suggesting you sit down.

The sound of the chair scraping against the linoleum is enough to make you wince but still you sit down, primly mind you. 

Seonghwa leaned over your shoulder, close but not overbearing, and tapped on a tablet to wake it up. “I don't think I heard you quite clearly here,” he murmurs next to your ear.

The video plays showing Yunho fucking you against the two way, from the corner camera. You squirmed in your seat. Seonghwa's head comes into view, intent on the video. His finger hovers over the screen, following the curve of your ass. You watch as you move your ass back towards Yunho's thrusts, insisting on your innocence.

Seonghwa bit down on his lip. “Right…” Yunho demanded how, against all the evidence, how you're still a suspect. And then you admitted to being San’s lover. “...here!”

You had been mid-cry when Seonghwa paused it. “Choi San’s lover, huh?”

You nodded. “I hated that woman because she was obsessed with San. But I didn't kill her. I… I faint at the sight of blood. There's no way I could have pulled that off.”

“What a relief,” Seonghwa grinned. “You're too beautiful to be a killer.”

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. “I'll take that water now.”

Seonghwa leaned back, his ass against the table. He undid the cap and handed it to you. “I hope you're not worn out.”

You swallowed profusely, drinking half the bottle before putting it down. “Yunho… trained me well. I'd be a let down if I could only last… once.”

Seonghwa cocked his head curiously. “Can I help you?”

Your hands tightened in your lap. “He said… you'd finish what he started. Will you? Please?”

“Of course!” Seonghwa agreed easily enough. “Only if you help me.”

The chair screeched a second time as you fell to your knees and clutched his pants. “Anything.”

Seonghwa laughed, an adorable snort that made a lock of hair fall into his eyes. He lifted you up a second time and changed positions. He pushed your ass up against the table and guided you to your back. “I don't need your help in that department, Sweetness.” His dark eyes followed his fingers as they swept up the inside of your thighs. Your outer lips were smeared with your wetness…and Yunho’s. His fingers rubbed along your folds, circling your clit and making you cry out. 

“Just tell me what Choi San has to do with all of this and you can cum again and again,” Seonghwa purred.

You shook your head. “He’s just my lover.”

Seonghwa hummed in acknowledgement, continuing to make circles around your clit. “And?”

You groaned as he inserted his thumb into your aching hole. “And she was obsessed with him, the mad woman.”

Seonghwa tsked. “How dare she? Didn’t she know he was already taken?”

You arched your back and fondled your sensitive breasts. “Well--” Your breath caught in the back of your throat. “--she didn’t know about us.”

Seonghwa nodded sagely. “A secret tryst between you two then. Must have been fun.”

You frowned at the past tense he used. “It was just better that way.”

“Certainly,” Seonghwa agreed with you. He removed his hands from your body and you keened at the loss. “So San never expressed his anger towards this woman?”

You looked up at Seonghwa with puppy dog eyes. Where was the cock you were promised? “He was annoyed but never angry. San would never hurt a fly.” Because flies never caused him pain.

Seonghwa rewarded you with your response by undoing his slacks. When he pulled free his hard cock, you salivated at the length. Yunho had not been bragging, by all means. He played the head of his cock against your hole, pushing only a little bit before pulling out. It didn’t take long for him to find the sweet spot inside of you, and without any aid, pushed you over the edge. 

You came but somehow you weren't satisfied. Seonghwa was playing with you, you knew it, but you couldn't help but want more. 

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows at you in question. “What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“That was--” You let out a shuddering sigh as you realized Seonghwa hadn't come and he was still rock hard inside of you. “I need more.”

“Mmm, so do I,” Seonghwa sighed softly. 

He maneuvered his body until he was lying horizontal with you. The tablet was near both your heads and Seonghwa tapped his long fingers against the screen. The scene played once again, with Yunho manhandling you and talking dirty to you. Your lower half flooded once again with shame and lust. 

“Seonghwa,” You groaned as he grinded his pelvis against yours. His eyes were solidly on the screen, timing his thrusts with that of Yunho. You whined as you were fucked but not hard like you preferred.

“We can do this all day,” Seonghwa murmured, not looking at you but screen you. “I can do this all day. But can you? Don’t you want me to slam into you? I can have you coming on my cock again and again and again, but you won’t be happy until there’s some roughness to it, hmm?”

Seonghwa’s fingers stroked the screen again, watching as your past self sunk to the floor after your first orgasm Yunho gave you. He rewound the footage and made it play again. His cock, the length good enough to slam into the end of you, quietly stroked the heat between your legs. You whined again but you knew until you said what Seonghwa wanted to hear, he was probably good on his word. 

You swallowed down your whines. “Wh-what do you want?”

“Give me something to link San to this crime,” Seonghwa moaned. 

You shook your head again. “There’s nothing. There’s simply her obsession.”

Seonghwa planted his palms solidly on the metal table and fucked you with precision but slowness that coaxed another orgasm out of you, simultaneously as you came loudly in the footage. Tears streamed from your eyes from the second climax, still feeling both full and empty at the same time. 

His slim finger caught a tear and sucked it into his mouth. He released it with a mocking pop. “Such pretty tears for me, Sweetness, but it won’t help you.”

Your mouth trembled. You wanted to be fucked so badly. This sweet love making matched Seonghwa but it didn’t release your need. “Please,” You begged. Your fingers reached behind Seonghwa and dug into his plush behind. “Please!”

With the same finger that was wet from your tears and Seonghwa’s saliva, Seonghwa pushed down on your clit and started up again. “Your sweet begging is awfully tempting,” Seonghwa whispered gently. “I wish I could help you. But until you help me, there’s nothing to be done here.”

The dual stimulation had you tipped over the edge again, your mouth stretching into a silent ‘o’ as you came for the third time. You wished you hated overstimulation but you didn’t. Your hips bucked against Seonghwa’s, demanding more. His hands were gentle on your body, his lips suckling your breasts with the patience of a good man. But still left your body aching for that more that your kinkiness required. 

“I don’t think it’s gonna work, Yunho,” Seonghwa called out to the air as he pushed some of your hair out of your face. “She’s not breaking.”

“So much for your tried and true practice,” Yunho’s harsh voice came out through some speakers.

Your body shot upwards. You hadn't even considered that Yunho was watching. That wasn’t his thing at all. 

Seonghwa pursed his lips to the side of his face in thought. “I need you to be a good girl for me, sweetness, to prove a point.”

“I can’t,” The tears and the pout came unbidden this time, “I can’t give you what you want to hear.”

Seonghwa chucked your chin with his pretty fingers, kissing you softly. “What does he do for you that the two of us couldn't?”

Flashes of San, his sweet smile and the blood splatter on his chest, smeared with your violent love making. “We’re tied in blood and cum, you and I are, my love,” he growled, “You can never betray me with a pact like this.”

You had a secret to keep, a lover to cover for, regardless of how much your body begged for that sweet, rough release you were looking for. And besides… San could more than give it to you… as long as the two of you were released from custody. 

You raised your chin stubbornly. “You two can’t be San.”

A loud curse and bang could be heard through the speakers, shocking you and Seonghwa. Was Yunho coming back? What did that mean? You both anticipated and feared for what the future could hold for you.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Could you make a fic with Jake x reader that maybe she is in a relationship with the other two (Marc and Steven don't need to be in the whole fic, just mentioning them maybe?) And Jake at first is rude to her until one day she comes late from work and Jake is covered in blood (not his) from a mission that left him like really bad and he can't stop thinking about it, so the reader helps him (although she's a bit hesitant at first because one day he told her that he didn't want her close), she helps him get a shower, cleans some little cuts on his face, and then when his dressed and ready to sleep, he asks her to stay with him.

I hope it's not too much 😅💖

hii honey!! I love this! so very sorry this is so late. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 @thewinterv

stay a while

jake lockley x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || none? brief mentions of blood

I haven’t wrote for jake before, so I really hope this feels like him

masterlist + rules

taglist

Being in a relationship with Marc and Steven was always very entertaining, never shying away from a dull moment when you shared your time with them. As Jake didn't front as regularly as the other two, you were still foreign to one another, only ever meeting him occasionally. On the very few chances you've met, he was rather hostile towards you, much preferring to keep you at arm's length. You weren't sure if you upset him or offended him in some way, but you couldn't quite figure out what you may have done wrong for him to dislike you.

Returning home from an extra long shift, you pull your keys out of your bag, jingling in the lock before twisting. You open the door, and your eyes immediately land on a very thin trail of blood. Following the blood drips, you see the silhouette of someone hunched over your sink.

"Marc?" you whisper, reaching for the light switch.

Stepping forward, you see a newsboy cap on the counter. A heavy feeling now clouds your stomach. "Jake?" you ask, almost in disbelief.

"What's going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" you anxiously blabber, slowly walking towards him.

He grunts in response, yanking the small towel from the hook to dry his swollen and bloodied knuckles.

"That's a white towel," you mumble, watching the fabric fill with small red spots that were sure to stain.

His head snaps over his shoulder towards you, practically glaring at your comment.

"Don't worry, I got more," you awkwardly laugh, reaching into the cupboard for the first aid equipment. "That cut up there looks pretty bad," you start, nodding to the bust piece of skin above his eyebrow. "Let me help you clean it?"

"It's fine," he grumbles, dabbing the towel over it to 'clean' it, instantly wincing at the painful sensation.

"Doesn't seem fine," you say quietly, flicking on the tap and thoroughly washing your hands. "Just-" you say, pouring a small amount of antiseptic onto a cotton ball. "Can I?" you question, hesitantly extending your hand towards his face.

He nods in response.

You watch the way he flinched at your soft, delicate touch, practically cowering away from your comfort. "I'm gonna hurt you," you whisper, lightly blotting around the open skin. "It's okay," you say tenderly, cupping his cheek with your other hand, angling his face downwards as you clean his wound.

He closes his eyes as he melts into your tender touch, finally allowing himself to feel a moment of warmth.

"Okay, some of these are gonna need covering… I think you should have a shower first. Clean yourself up, and I can bandage you up after." you sweetly instruct, sorting through the bag as you search for everything you need for later.

"A shower?" he repeats, looking down at his blood-covered clothes.

"I have a change of clothes for you," you cutely laugh. "They're your exact size too,"

A sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his lips, watching you with softened eyes.

"Bathroom is just down here. I'll put a pile of clothes on my bed for afterwards," you smile, leading him down the small hallway. "The controls are easy, but if you need me, call me…. oh wait, also. Clean towels in there," pointing to the cabinet behind the door.

As you turn on your heel, a soft yet firm grip on your arm halts your movements. "Thank you," Jake whispers, wryly grinning.

You sweetly smile. "No problem, take as long as you need,"

Allowing Jake some time alone to recuperate after his clearly intense mission, you make your way back into the kitchen to clean up the mess. Wiping the blood from the floors and counters, throwing the tissues, anything and everything to keep your mind busy.

You notice the quietness from the bathroom down the hall, hearing nothing but a few scuffles and small groans. You collect the first aid equipment, stuffing everything in the bag, walking towards your room. Waiting a couple extra minutes, you knock on the door, waiting patiently to enter.

"Yeah," Jake calls out from behind the door.

"Hi," you say slowly, making your way in, laying the creams and bandages on the bed. "I'll just quickly put these on, then you can get some rest,"

"Okay," he nods, sitting at the edge of the mattress, facing you.

With clean hands, you apply small dots of antiseptic cream on the cut areas, lightly rubbing it in as you gaze at his face, watching the dozen tiny expressions play out. You tear open a plaster, laying it across his temple, covering the bust part of the skin from earlier and gently smoothing the sticky part to his forehead.

"There we go, all better," you smile, kissing your finger and placing it over the fabric. "I'll let you get some sleep," you say somewhat awkwardly, not quite sure if you overstepped a boundary.

"Stay," he whispers, holding your arm to stop you from leaving. "I won't see you for a while. Please stay.”