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qrrieterisunnq · 6 months ago

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Bonfire And S'Mores

FT. JACK HUGHES AND BONFIRE SEX MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: sex scenes (please keep it safe guys!) — SUMMARY: When Quinn, Luke, and Jack, have one free weekend at the same time, they decide, they would like to spend some time with their parents and Jack’s girlfriend. So camping in Big Bend National Park in Texas sounded like the best idea. Especially for Jack, when he gets to spend some time with his girlfriend alone in a tent. — WORD COUNT: 3,06K — AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's been messy with me, but I hope you'll like this fic! I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

“I’m so tired.” you yawn and open your tired eyes, while you sit in the car on the way to the airport. You, Jack, and Luke are heading to Big Bend National Park in Texas, together with Quinn and the Hughes’ parents.

“I know baby, but you can sleep in the plane. Okay?” Jack says quietly as he looks in the rearview mirror at his younger brother sleeping with his mouth wide open.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning your head back on the window. “I’m so excited to see your parents.” you look at Jack whose smile grows at your confession.

“You do?” he smirks at you bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

Giggling, you tuck your head between your shoulders, while your cheeks turn red. “Yeah, I do. You know I love your mom.”

“Yeah I know, pumpkin,” he sighs, caressing your hand. “Close your eyes. It’ll take a while before we get to the airport. The traffic is terrible.”

“Wake me up when we reach it, I want to be up before we arrive,” you say before you nuzzle in your jacket and scarf.

“I will, now sleep.” he chuckles and turns on the seat heating. You moan softly as the warmth hits your body, and lulls you to sleep in a few minutes.

The car ride is for a few minutes, with you sleeping silently next to Jack and Luke in the backseat when his phone starts to buzz in the phone holder.

Jack slows down a little bit and answers the call and turns the volume down a little bit so you won't wake up.

“Hi momma, keep it low, please. Luke and y/n are sleeping.” Jack says in a low tone looking over at you and Luke, hoping you won’t wake up. You were up until 2 am last night when both of you insisted on finishing watching some TV show.

“Okay, okay!” she giggles. “I’m just calling to ask when your flight is going to take off. So dad and I know when to wait for you at the airport.” dad’s laugh rang in the background of the call.

“Eh, the flight is taking off around 8:30, I guess. I’d have to ask y/n about it, but I don’t want to wake her up.” He sighs, trying to remember the time of the takeoff while he listens to the noises coming from the speaker in the car.

“No that’s completely okay, no need to wake her up. You can ask her when you’ll reach the airport and then text me. Or she can text me after all.” she says with a grin in her voice.

“Okay, I’ll tell her when she wakes up,” Jack smiles, turning left at the crossroads. “Is Quinn already there?” he asks when he hears his older brother's voice from the background noise.

“Yeah, dad and he arrived about an hour ago,” she murmurs, shushing the two in the background.

“Is that Jack?” Quinn's voice rings through the speaker which makes Luke move in the backseat.

“Yeah, but not that loud Quinn. The babies are sleeping.” you can hear your mom shushing him.

“Oh, sorry. Are you on your way?” he asks in a quieter voice, and Jack has to chuckle at him because he can vividly imagine his face.

“Yeah, we’re on our way to the airport,” he nods turning left on another crossroad to get on the highway.

“Okay, we won’t disturb you! Drive safe baby!” Ellen says before ending the call.

“That was mom?” Luke's groggy voice sounds through the car, startling Jack.

“Shit man!” he breathes put shaking his head. “Yeah, that was mom. Wanted to know when we’re taking off. And keep it low, please. Y/n’s sleeping.” he says when he sees Luke wants to say something.

“Oh okay. Sorry. Uh can we get something to eat before we arrive at the airport.” he groans quietly as he stretches his limbs in the small place that is in front of him.

“Sure, what do you want?” Jack looks at him through the mirror, raising his brows, while his right hand squeezes y/n’s tight when she moves in her seat and lets out a soft sound.

“Taco Bell. Please!”

“Baby, we’ll be at the airport in a minute,” Jack says in a shush tone, squeezing you tight to wake you up. You stir in your seat, groaning and stretching your legs while taking in a deep breath. “If you are hungry, there is a burrito under your feet if you’re hungry.”

“I fucking love you, Jack.” you peck his cheek quickly before you pull the bag with food on your lap.

“Oh really? Without me you wouldn’t have any food sis!” Luke gasps from the backseat, scaring the shit out of you.

“Jesus. Luke!” you whisper after you catch your breath.

“Sorry, but it’s true.” he just shrugs his shoulders as he continues in eating his food.

“Okay then, I fucking love you, Luke.” you giggle while your hand makes its way between your seat and the door to the back of the car, reaching for Luke’s leg or arm.

He interlocks his finger with yours and squeezes them. “And I love you sis.”

“Oh, stop those lovey-dovey things you two!” Jack looks in the rearview mirror and gasps. “You are cheating on me with him?” he turns to face you for a few seconds and all of you have to keep in your laughter as soon as he says it.

“Oh my gosh! We should stop it!” you laugh covering your mouth.

“Yeah we really should,” Luke adds with laughter letting go of your hand in the process. “That was really weird feeling.”

The rest of the way to the airport is in silence, with music in the background. Just as Jack parks his car, you finish eating your burrito.

“Okay! Our flight takes off in two hours, so we should hurry up,” you sing as you get out of the car and jog towards the trunk to pull out your suitcase.

Just as you are about to pull it out, Jacks hand stops you making a low ‘tsk tsk tsk’ sound.

“What?” you look at him with a bored expression. “I’m not allowed to get my own suitcase, or what?”

“No, you are not!” Jack says pushing you gently away so you hit Luke's chest and Jack can pull out your suitcase and place it in front of you. “Here you go, princess.”

With a roll of your eyes, you grab the handle of the suitcase and make your way inside the airport building.

“Oh, my baby!” Ellen shrieks as soon as she sees you. You let go of your suitcase, leaving it behind you as you run into her arm.

You both wrap your arms around each other as soon as you collide together. Ellen wraps her hands tightly around your figure. You melt into her embrace, snuggling your head in the crock of her neck.

“Mom.” you breathe out, moving even closer to her hug.

“MOM!” Jack and Luke say in unison with disbelief written on their faces.

“We are your babies!” Luke cries out, shaking his head.

“Oh, c’mon guys! You know she loves her more than you!” Jim laughs pulling Luke in a tight hug, while Jack is hugging his older brother.

“Yeah, we do!” Quinn laughs pulling away from Jack, who is looking at his mom and girlfriend having their moment as they whisper about something.

“Okay, mom! It’s my turn with y/n!” he gently pushes mom away from y/n pulling his future sister-in-law into a hug.

“Oh, c’mere Luke!” Ellen sings pulling his youngest son in a hug and kissing his cheeks.

“Okay, everyone greeted everyone?” Jim asks, his hands crossed on his chest, as he watches his family smile and laugh.

“Yeah, grumpy man!” Jack chuckles ducking his head from Jim’s hand.

You just shake your head at his childishness, and you make your way towards the airport entrance with Ellen.

“Okay! Y/n, Jack, you two are going with Quinn, Luke you are coming with us!” Ellen commands, turning around and smiling at her boys.

“Okay!” Luke salutes jogging to his parents’ car and waits for Jin to open it, so he can jump inside.

With a wave, you say goodbye to the three of them and make your way to Quinn’s car.

The ride home was quick for you. You barely said a word to Quinn, because you, yet again, fell asleep in the backseat and slept through the one-hour ride, only to be woken up by Jack who is carrying in arms.

“Sleep baby! It’s already nine pm. We’re leaving at six in the morning,” He says as he lays you down in his bed. “I’m going down for a while, mom made a diner, so if you want I can bring you some.” he cocks his head caressing your cheek.

“No that’s okay, I’ll come with you, I’m hungry,” you mumble and rub your eyes as you sit up. Jack chuckles helping you sit up and then stand up. “Did I sleep the whole ride home?” you ask looking at him with something written on your face, that Jack can’t identify.

“Yeah, you fell asleep the minute you sat in the car.” he laughs, grabs your hand and together you make your way downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hi there sleeping beauty.” Quinn grins at you from behind the table.

“Leave her alone Quinn.” Ellen swats her hand across Quinn's arm while urging us to sit down.

“So we’re leaving at six in the morning, I already made some food for us, while we’ll wait there. At the airport, there’ll already be a car waiting for us, with everything in it.” she smiles, handing you a bowl with a salad.

“Oh, I cannot wait!” Luke jumps on his hair, almost dropping the plate he is holding in the air as he waits for you to scoop up a portion of food.

The rest of the dinner is followed by laughter, stupid jokes falling for your mouths, and a few kisses that Jack steals from you.

“Shit! Luke! Watch where you are going!” Quinn yells when the tent they are building almost falls.

“Sorry! It’s not my fault that the stick was so long!” he throws his hands in the air in defeat.

“Well, you have eyes so you should have looked around before going somewhere!” Quinn yells again, shaking his head at his youngest brother's stupidity.

“I said I’m sorry!” he sighs with a shake of his head and starts to help Quinn build the tent again.

You and Jack just laugh quietly as you watch the two build it over again. “I’m glad I’m not building it with them.” he giggles and pulls you closer to him.

“What is going on?” Ellen asks with confusion written on her face. She sits next to you on the wooden bench with Jim following her motions.

“Agh,” Jack sighs with a chuckle looking down at you. “Long story short, Luke is stupid.”

“What did he do?” Jim looks over at his middle son with curiosity.

“He almost tore down the tent with the stick he was trying to put inside the holes,” you explain, leaning more into Jack's warm body.

“Oh my…” he pinches the bridge of his nose shaking his head. “I have no idea where we found him El, but I’m pretty sure he can’t be our son.” As soon as he finishes his words he earns a smack from his wife as she shakes his head at him.

“Need some help, you two?!” you yell at them when you see how they’re building their tent.

“No, we got it! But thanks!” Quinn yells back sending you a shiny smile.

“Well, then, we can set a fire in the meantime,” Jack asks, looking around for some wood.

“Oh, about this! I talked with the firefighters, and they told me we could set a fire, but it must be covered at the sides, and we needed to water the area around it so the fire would not expand.” Jim says stopping his son from going somewhere.

“Okay. We can look at what we have packed for the bonfire and then we can build it.” Ellen suggests, cocking her head to the side.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jim smiles and kisses the side of his wife’s head.

“Finally.” Quinn laughs, fist-bumping his brother.

“Finally.” Luke sighs, breathing heavily.

“Dumb and Dumber.” Jack shakes his head and tightens his arms around you.

“Don’t be mean. They’re your brothers.” you jab him in the ribs lightly, pouting your lips.

“I know baby. Sorry.” he sighs. He knows that you hate when he’s mean to his brothers. He knows you blame yourself for your siblings not talking to you. And he’s trying his best to let you know that his siblings are yours too.

“Jack?” you whisper in his ear when he listens to Quinn talk about something.

“Yes, baby? " Immediately, he turns his attention on you, his eyes searching yours and his hands tightening their grip on your waist.

“Come to the tent in seven minutes,” you whisper, your lips touching the side of his ear, sending shivers down his neck. You stand up immediately, earning attention from everyone. I’m going to sleep. My head is hurting,” you explain, wrapping your hands around yourself. Night.”

“Night, y/n!” Quinn and Luke say in unison, chuckling immediately.

“Night, sweetheart.” Ellen smiles at you and Jim nods his head with a small smile lingering on his lips. You turn around and walk to the tent, not forgetting to wink at your boyfriend.

Jack shifts in his seat, adjusting his pants. “Fuck.” he mumbles under his nose and looks at his phone counting down the seconds before he can stand up and leave.

As soon as the seven-minute limit runs out, Jack excuses himself, saying he doesn’t want to leave y/n alone when she’s feeling sick.

He tries not to look desperate, but he hears Quinn’s chuckle already knowing what is following.

“Don’t be too loud. There is a kid!” He teases, his middle brother earning a middle finger from him.

Jack opens their tent and slips inside, smirking immediately when he sees you sitting in those cute pajamas under the duvet.

“Hey, my love!” he whispers and crawls to you stealing a kiss from you.

“Hi Jacky,” you mumble in the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you.

“What was that for?” he asks as soon as he pulls away from the deep kiss.

“I just wanted to show you how much I love you,” you shrug, grinning at him because you know he knows it’s not true.

“Oh you do?” he teases you, slowly lying at you, pressing his already hard cock into your belly. “Well then you should show me how much you love me and get naked.” he cocks his head to the side, slapping your ass harshly.

In a few seconds, you are lying under him with nothing on just like Jack. “Fuck I missed you, baby. It has been too long without you,” he murmurs in your neck as he traces his way down to your breasts with kisses.

“It was only two weeks, Jacky.” You moan when his lips close around your left nipple sucking hard on it while his fingers pinch your right one making you let out a little louder moan.

He releases your nipple with a pop, looking at you with a devilish smirk. He reaches for your panties, which are right next to you, and stuffs them in your mouth, earning a gasp from you.

“I need you to be quiet. I know you like to be vocal, but my brothers and family are here, and I don’t want them to hear your beautiful noises.”

he smirks, kissing your forehead and nose before looking down at you again. “Now will you be my good girl and be quiet?”

Eagerly you nod your head, waiting for Jack to do what he has in plan. He reaches between the two of you, palming his cock and sliding it between your lower lips to feel how wet you already are.

You moan at the feeling of his cock on your pussy, and instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck to keep him in place.

Slowly he pushes his dick inside you, inch by inch until he’s balls deep inside you. “Just like that y/n, keep squeezing around me.” He murmurs in your ear slowly moving his hips while his lips suck on your neck, drawing more moans from you.

You can feel a strip of saliva running down your chin as you moan loudly around the panties in your mouth. “Jack,” you try to say, but it’s harder than you thought with the panties.

“I know my love,” he whispers thrusting into you more intensively and roughly. His hand moves to your leg so he can bring it on his shoulder, to change the angle and thrusts deeper into you.

You moan and dig your nails into his back as you squeeze around his cock, your juices coating his cock and balls.

You pull the panties away from your mouth, gripping Jack’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I’m going to cum, Jack!” you whimper in the kiss, tightening your legs around his waist and grinding on him.

“Then come, baby! Coat my cock in your juices,” he says in a rough voice his hand moving down to your clit circling it with the right pressure.

A few hard thrusts later you are falling apart in his arms, your legs shaking around his waist. Jack thrusts into you a few more times before his orgasm hits him and he collapses on top of you.

“Wow, that, that was something.” he breathes out placing soft kisses on your neck and slowly reaching your lips.

“I love you, Jack. Just want you to know,” you say nervously, caressing his cheek when he pulls away from you.

“I know, and I love you,” he says softly, brushing the hair away from your face. “Now get some rest baby,” he says moving you around, so you rest on his chest.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jh86 #jack hughes smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl #nj devils #quinn hughes #hughes brothers #qrrieterisunnq's autumn masterlist #luke hughes

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tinyluvs · 5 months ago

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⁺‧₊˚ just the tip 𖤐 swiss&phantom ˚₊‧⁺

❥ summary; they get a taste for it and it’s no longer just the tip ❥ warnings; transmasc!phantom, cunt&clit used within the fic, they’re idiots for each other, swiss begs, phantom lets him, it’s all consensual, alludes to cockwarming right at the end??? idk ❥ authors note; i still don’t remember how to tag so if there’s anything i missed feel free to let me know :)) anyways enjoy !!!❥ wc; 2.2k ₊˚⊹♡⁺‧₊˚𖤐 read on ao3; ˗ˏˋ ꒰꒰ here !! ꒱꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𖤐˚₊.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

phantom knows what swiss is doing, what he’s slowly building up to, there’s no subtlety in his movements whatsoever. pushing up onto his elbows, phantom looks down between his thighs, mesmerised by the way swiss pushes the fat head of his cock up and down his cunt tortuously slow

“fuck swiss,” phantom whines high as he tilts his head back, jaw slack, lashes kissing his cheeks, blissed out. swiss hums, his gaze fixed on phantom’s hole clenching around nothing, dripping a steady stream of slick that swiss is quick to drag his cock through, further soaking his already wet head

they’ve been going at this for god only knows how long, phantom’s hips aching from the way his thighs are spread and pushed back, one of swiss’ large hands pressing down so hard phantom is sure he will have a hand shaped bruise on the back of his thigh for days to come

swiss sits back and rolls his hips forwards, nudging phantom’s little dick with the tip of his cock. both of their groans echo off the walls, as does the sticky wet sound the movement makes, “s-shit bug,” swiss groans and squeezes around the base of his cock, extinguishing the fire low in his belly, only slightly but it’ll do for now

phantom’s arms buckle, his back flopping down against his mattress. the slight bounce his body makes as it collides forces swiss’ tip to catch on his hole, “no, o-oh, swiss,” phantom whimpers, his hand shooting down to shove at swiss’ hip

a thick blurt of pre spurts from swiss’ cock, almost going to waste as it nearly drips onto the sheets but swiss swipes it up, hissing at the sensitivity of his ruddy head, almost flushed purple at this point. he plays with his mess, pressing his thumb and finger together and then pulling them apart slowly, strings of pre keeping them connected

“prettiest little dick i’ve ever seen,” swiss hums low, his voice like honey as he slots his slicked up fingers either side of phantom’s fat clit. phantom’s back arches something filthy, sheets sticking to his back with the way he’s starting to sweat. he shudders through a whimper, the same devastating reaction he has every time swiss praises his dick

swiss pinches at his dick lightly before sliding his fingers back and forth, a single stroke that makes phantom pant, something akin to a dog, though swiss is no better off, his cock kicking in the space between them, hanging between his legs pathetically hard and leaking

phantom’s fingers sink into his sides, gripping and grabbing and trying to pull, “fucking kiss me, please, swiss, kis-” his whimpered beg gets cut off as swiss leans over him, licking quickly at his bottom lip before open mouthed kissing him

in any other situation, it would be considered a bad kiss, a clang of fangs, swiss’ heated breath fanning over phantom’s mouth every time he pants, phantom’s tongue lolling out of his mouth, lapping at anything he can touch, swiss’ lips, fangs, even his cheek at one point, but right now, it’s what they both need, whether it can be considered a kiss or not

the pillow underneath phantom’s head rustles when he tilts his head back, mouth open, tongue out, his mind swimming too much to even partake in the kisses he asked for. swiss chuckles quietly, to himself, before letting his lips explore, a messy trail of spit and wet kisses being splattered down phantom’s neck

blunt nails rake down swiss chest, catching slightly on one of his nipples but they don’t stop, continuing lower and lower until phantom is thumbing at his slit, “bug,” swiss warns but his body betrays him, hips jerking and shoving his cock into phantom’s hand

“what?” phantom quips, dripping with innocence even though it’s terribly fake. swiss nips at his neck for his tone, worrying thin skin between his teeth, riding the very thin line between pain and pleasure, “oh, f-fuck, ah-, swiss,” phantom pants, winding his free hand into swiss’ hair to pull, not hard enough to unlatch swiss from his neck though

swiss licks and then kisses the blooming purple mark he’s leaving behind as he pulls back, holding his weight on his elbows, hovering over phantom, caging his body against the bed, “what?” swiss mocks with a smirk, leaning down to barely brush his lips against phantom’s, pulling away quickly when phantom tries to chase his kiss

phantom’s eyes roll lazily as he presses the tips of his fingers to swiss’ tip, nestling it right up under his clit, “move, do something, please,” phantom asks breathlessly, both ghouls looking down into the space between their bodies in anticipation and then, slowly, swiss pushes forward

neither ghoul stays staring down for long, both of their heads tipping back, synced groans rumbling from their chests as swiss pulls back and then pushes forward again, bullying his cock against phantom’s stiff dick, “f-fuck, that feels s’good,” phantom whispers, mouth hanging open, his eyes blinking up at swiss wetly

“yeah, yeah, fuckin’ does,” swiss growls, his hips speeding up, falling into a rhythm that makes phantom feel dizzy, a never ending stream of whimpers pour from his mouth when swiss looks down at him and holds his eye contact, the blush that fans over phantom’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by swiss

the multi ghoul dips to press a kiss right on phantom’s cheekbones, one on each side before capturing phantom’s lips in a kiss, pulling away after just a second to brush side to side but phantom tilts his chin up, pouts and half whines, half hums and swiss can’t deny him, prepared to kiss him until the breath in his lungs runs out, as long as that’s what phantom wants

the whole situation becomes messy, swiss’ cock throbs and pulses, spitting pre over phantom’s cunt with every wet slide, aided by the slick practically pouring from phantom’s hole, something they can hear when phantom clenches around nothing, a vulgar wet sound that swiss wants to hear, needs to hear, for the rest of his life

spit bubbles at phantoms lips, spilling and running down his chin while he struggles to keep up with the way swiss is kissing him. phantom is sweating properly now, his dark hair starting to stick at his forehead and the hairs at the base of his neck starting to curl with the heat. his fingers sink into swiss’ shoulder, claws pricking and drawing blood to the surface

“more, fuck-ing need more,” phantom hiccups when swiss gives him a moment to breath, his lungs expanding, chest pressing to swiss’ with it, “swiss, oh fuck, please please please,” he cries, frantic and overwhelmed, his pulse hammering in his ears

swiss slows his hips against phantom’s whiny protest, “okay baby, what d’ya need?” he asks gently, pressing his lips to phantom’s sweaty hairline, a soothing movement that he thinks phantom needs, “gonna let me put it in?” swiss mumbles, pulling his hips back enough for his tip to slide down phantom’s cunt, resting against his hot little hole

phantom nods…and then shakes his head, “y-you can’t, we can’t, what if i, you,” he rambles, a sorry state of affairs but swiss doesn’t tease him about it, his lips peppering kisses over purple freckles at phantom’s temple

“just the tip?” swiss suggests, hopeful. his point driven home by his cock pressing forwards, prodding at phantom’s cunt, an centimetre more and he’d be pushing in. swiss pulls back to look at phantom, who is gone, heavy eyelids half shut, mouth hung open in a silent moan

the suggestion makes phantom’s hole clench, kissing swiss’ tip with a sticky sound, a filthy mix of slick and pre pooling just inside him, threatening to spill out at any second, “just the tip,” phantom repeats, barely a whisper but swiss nods his head and well, that’s that

swiss sucks in a breath, fills his cheeks with it before sinking his fangs into his lip as he humps his hips forwards, just rubbing his cock against phantom’s hole, “you’re so fuckin’ wet bug, fuck,” he groans and phantom keens, his back arching further away from the mattress as swiss pushes in, stretching him open just so, just enough for swiss’ fat head to pop into him

phantom’s warmth envelopes him, surrounds the little bit of his cock pushed inside with a searing heat, almost fire ghoul hot if swiss really thinks about it. swiss pulls back, his cock slipping free of phantom’s clutch but then he’s pushing straight back in, unable to keep himself away now that he’s got a taste for it

holding his weight on one arm, swiss reaches down between them to gently nudge at phantom’s cock, his fingertips barely ghosting it but phantom’s overly sensitive, his cock pulses and his cunt clenches and in turn, swiss sinks further into him, an inch at most past the tip

“bug, oh fuck,” swiss growls, his eyes widening and then clamping shut, “you’re so fu- ah, fucking tight, practically sucking me in,”

phantom moans loudly as swiss rambles, every nerve ending in both of their bodies burning. he wants to tell swiss to pull back, to tell him, just the tip, but he can’t bring himself to do it, being split completely open on swiss cock just feels too fucking good

“tell me to stop,” swiss hisses and grinds his teeth, his head hanging to watch his cock disappearing into phantom, coming out shiny with slick, “phantom, tell me to stop,” he all but begs, words punching out of his lungs with desperation

“no, shi-t, oh, don’t stop,” phantom moans, fingers pulling at swiss’ hips and swiss growls, body rumbling, vibrating off the walls as he sinks into phantom in one thrust, his heavy balls slapping against phantom, “fuck me, just fuck me,”

and swiss does, setting a brutal rhythm immediately, little ah, ah, ah’s, leaving phantom every time swiss’ cock nudges against that spot deep inside of him on every thrust. swiss breaks him open, splits him open and then puts him back together over and over again

swiss, for a lack of better words, plays with phantom's cock, doesn’t stroke or pinch at it but just plays with it, soaking wet fingers drawing phantom’s orgasm closer, “you’re so fuckin’ good for me,” swiss groans, “so fucking good,”

there’s nothing phantom can do, nothing he wants to do, he surrenders and submits fully to swiss, letting him take. thick strings of pre and slick connect their bodies, a lewd wet slap ringing in phantom’s ears everytime swiss surges forward and fills him to the brim

“m’close, fuck swiss,” phantom whines and scrambles for purchase, raking red lines across swiss’ back. luckily for phantom, swiss is also close, his cock throbbing deep inside of him, the thick veins on his cock dragging just right, “shit, pull out,”

swiss gasps, too close to tumbling over the edge and taking phantom with him, “baby i can’t, please, don't make me, i can’t,” swiss begs, shaking his head, “you feel so fucking good, oh fuck, please lemme stay in, please-,” he trails off into a high whine that scratches in his throat

phantom’s stomach burns, a coil inside of him wound so tightly it almost hurts, “jus’ cum, in me,” phantom gasps and then cries, teetering on the edge of what he needs, “inside, fuck, please just make me cum,”

with a harsh pinch to his clit, the coil inside of phantom snaps and unravels, he sobs and shudders, his chest heaving as he clamps down hard on swiss, “fu-fuck,” he manages to cry, his cunt clenching impossibly tight and that does it for swiss

somewhere deep inside phantom, swiss’ cock starts to squirt while the multi ghoul shouts, every single one of his muscles freezing as he cants his hips, grinding his cock into phantom and phantom’s little cock off of his pelvis, both of them riding out a high that doesn’t seem to be ending, swiss cock spitting wave after wave of thick cum

“lucifer,” swiss whimpers when he can catch his breath, his head hanging and resting against phantom’s sternum, “did s’good,” he mumbles, kissing in the centre of phantom’s chest

both ghouls breathe, the room around them hot and humid, their bodies sticky in multiple ways. eventually swiss moves, ready to pull out, his cock starting to soften, completely spent and milked dry. phantom winces as he goes, scrambling to keep him close, “no!, stay, don’t go, not yet,”

“bug,” swiss warns, his tone soothing and gentle, his fingers pushing phantom’s sweaty hair off of his forehead before moving down, tickling just behind phantom’s ear

phantom leans into swiss’ hand, “i know, jus’ need it,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. his thighs close in on swiss’ side as he starts to roll them onto their sides, pressed together, chest to chest, phantom’s head nuzzling under swiss’ chin, a gentle purr rumbling from his throat, “just for a little while,”

“just for a little while,” swiss sighs around a yawn and if their earlier promise of just the tip is anything to go by, it’ll be more than a little while before they move

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

𖤐 ghouls masterlist

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jungkoode · 17 days ago

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THE 25TH HOUR | O7

“𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐒”

"The most annoying thing about Agent Min isn’t how easily he dodges your questions—it’s how effortlessly he outmatches your wit."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 7,4k

content: field trips, noma being curious as usual, yoongi being half amused half exasperated, yoongi being a smart lil shit and evading her questions, her growing frustrated, forced proximity, eery memorials and visceral reactions.

— author’s note

Hiii peeps!!!

It’s been a long time coming huh??? FINALLY chapter 7 reached the goals yesterday!!! *cue the confetti that i absolutely do not have the energy to throw*

I’ve been writing this chapter for what feels like an eternity (literally aged 10 years minimum) but I just finished the last scene today and edited and proofread it just now soooo I hope everything’s okay??? If you see a typo… no you didn’t (ಥ﹏ಥ).

Not gonna lie to you, I had to reread chapter 6 because I straight up forgot whether I had tasked Yoongi and Noma to the Monitoring Hub or if that was someone else ahahaha—spoiler alert: it was Tae and Jungkook who got stuck with that chore, not Yoongi and Y/N. Slay for us!

Then I reread some of my notes and remembered some plotlines I had emotionally suppressed and well… the last scene about the park basically wrote itself. Yeah. It’s eery. Prepare yourselves.

There’s SO much to unpack from this fic and SO little we have even scratched the surface of. I know The 25th Hour is my most head-wrecking fanfic so PLEASE, feel free to vomit ALL of your theories at me hahaha. I’m here for the chaos.

As always—remember my fics are sloooooow paced and sloooooow burn because my brain doesn’t know how to operate differently. Don’t expect fast plot movement, I’m intentionally taking my time to build the world and lay tiny breadcrumbs for you to gather. Pick them up. Put them in your emotional basket. Analyze them to your heart’s content.

Enjoy, goblins! <3

— read on

ao3

wattpad

The streets feel fundamentally wrong.

It's not something you can quantify, not yet. The temperature is stable, the air quality within acceptable parameters, and the ambient noise levels hover at a predictable 67 decibels.

But still, something feels… off.

Sector 4 has always been bustling, it is a fact you do not question.

Coffee shops line the sidewalks—windows are fogged with steam and promises of overpriced caffeine. Restaurants have flickering neon signs in rhythmic patterns that seem to draw people in inevitably. Storefronts display fashion statements that you’ve never found appealing but still manage to catch your eye every time you pass them.

You do like fashion—at least, theoretically.

You’ve never bought anything from these stores, though.

Agent Min walks ahead of you now, stride measured as always. You recalibrate your position almost immediately, adjusting your pace to walk beside him instead of behind.

Not behind him. Never behind him.

You don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. To you, at least. Or maybe to whatever part of you keeps acting out without conscious thought lately.

Your eyes betray you again, flickering to his gloved hand for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. Covered, as always. Black leather stretched taut over fingers that move very precisely—cataloging, calculating, anticipating.

You’re still stuck on his earlier words: “Protection from me.”

What did he mean by that? Is his touch scalding? Dangerous?

You haven’t seen him touch anyone else without those gloves—not once since arriving at the facility. It’s plausible enough to form a hypothesis around it, but not enough to test it without risking another nosebleed—or worse.

Still… you want to test it anyway.

And then there’s the matter of your own gloves—thin fabric ones that feel more like a restriction than protection.

Nobody else wears them except Yoongi. Just him and you. You and him.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

The question loops through your mind like a broken record, each repetition louder than the last until it feels like static buzzing beneath your skin.

You want to ask him outright, even though you know it will get you nowhere.

But still… you want to ask.

“Why gloves?”

The words slip out before your analytical mind can filter them properly—an impulsive breach of protocol that surprises even you.

Yoongi sighs—a sound weighted with irritation but tempered by something softer beneath—and doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickers around the street instead, cataloging details invisible to your untrained eye.

“Stop staring at my hand,” he says finally, voice low enough that only you can hear over the ambient noise of Sector 4’s busiest avenue.

“I wasn’t staring at your hand,” you counter, the denial emerging with suspicious automaticity.

And technically, it’s not a lie.

Your focus was on the glove itself—the material composition, the precision fit, the way it moves with his fingers as if designed specifically for his unique biomechanics.

“My gloves cover my hands,” he points out, logic impeccable as always. “You looking at my glove is functionally equivalent to looking at my hand.”

Your analytical mind acknowledges the validity of his reasoning—the correlation between glove and hand approaches 99.7% in this context.

“Stop trying to be clever,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching upward by approximately 0.3 millimeters—a microexpression your body recognizes as amusement despite your mind having no reference point for it.

“I’m not trying to be clever,” you respond, your tone matching his. “Fabric is not skin. I was technically not observing your hand but rather the material covering it.”

His eyes narrow by exactly 1.2 millimeters. “You’re doing it right now.”

“Doing what?”

“Attempting to establish semantic superiority through technical correctness.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Stop it.”

Your lips press together, suppressing what feels suspiciously like a smile. Your gaze shifts to his profile, noting the controlled tension in his jaw, the rhythm of his breathing.

“Why?” The question emerges softer than intended.

He turns, eyes meeting yours with unsettling directness.

The contact lasts 2.7 seconds—42% longer than standard conversational eye contact.

“Because,” his eyes flicker gold for precisely 0.3 seconds, “being intellectual antagonists with each other is essentially our foreplay.”

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.37%.

“That would imply sexual attraction.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Are you sexually attracted to me?”

He doesn’t respond.

You weren’t expecting him to.

Doesn’t make it less annoying.

But curiosity nags at you as your eyes flicker down to his gloves. And before you can process your next question, you’re already voicing it out.

"Can I hold your hand?"

Agent Min halts mid-step, his shoulders stiffening by precisely 0.6 centimeters. The sigh that follows is audible, weighted with the kind of exasperation that suggests this isn't the first time he's had to deal with you derailing his focus.

"Not this again," he mutters, his voice carrying the same energy as someone who just realized they forgot to defrost the chicken for dinner.

You blink up at him, unbothered by the irritation radiating off of him in waves.

“What? I’m serious."

He turns his head slowly, mint-green hair catching the sunlight in a way that seems almost too vibrant for someone with such a perpetually dark aura. His eyes narrow slightly—not in anger, but in that uniquely way of his that suggests he's already regretting engaging with you.

"You want to hold my hand," he repeats flatly, as if saying it out loud might somehow make it sound less ridiculous.

"Yes." You nod once, decisively. "Without the gloves."

His jaw tightens by 3 degrees, and for a moment, you think he might ignore you entirely. But then he exhales sharply through his nose—an audible punctuation mark to his mounting frustration—and tilts his head just enough to meet your gaze.

"Why?" he asks, voice low and measured, like he's trying to reason with a particularly stubborn child.

You pause, considering the question.

Why do you want to hold his hand?

It’s not like you’ve ever been particularly interested in physical contact before. In fact, you generally find it inefficient and unnecessary—an outdated social construct with no practical application in most scenarios.

But this feels... different. Important. Like there’s some unquantifiable variable at play that your analytical mind can’t quite grasp.

"I don’t know," you admit finally, your tone carrying the same blunt honesty that has gotten you into trouble more times than you can count. "I just do."

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly—1.2 seconds exactly—before pinching the bridge of his nose through the fabric of his glove.

“You can’t just go around asking people if you can hold their hands."

"Why not?" Your brow furrows as you process his response. "Is it against protocol?"

"It’s not about protocol," he says, dropping his hand back to his side with a resigned sigh. "It’s about basic social norms."

"Social norms are arbitrary constructs," you argue, crossing your arms over your chest. "If I want to hold your hand and you don’t explicitly object, then what’s the issue?"

"The issue," he says slowly, as if explaining quantum mechanics to a toddler, "is that most people don’t ask questions like that because they understand how it might make someone else feel."

You tilt your head slightly, analyzing his expression for any sign of genuine discomfort. His face remains impassive—calm but guarded, like he’s carefully controlling every microexpression to avoid giving anything away.

"I don’t see how it would make you feel anything," you say finally, your tone more curious than defensive. "It’s just skin-to-skin contact. Statistically insignificant unless there’s some kind of chemical reaction involved."

Yoongi stares at you for a long moment—4.7 seconds exactly—before shaking his head slightly and muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like why me?

"You’re impossible," he says finally, turning away from you and resuming his perfectly measured stride down the street.

You fall into step beside him without hesitation, adjusting your pace to match his once again.

“You didn’t answer my question," you point out after exactly 3 seconds of silence.

"I thought I did," he replies dryly.

"No," you counter, your tone taking on that annoyingly persistent edge that you realize seems to get under his skin. "You explained why most people wouldn’t ask to hold someone’s hand. You didn’t explain why I shouldn’t ask."

He exhales sharply again—louder this time—and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze flickers briefly to your gloved hands before returning to the path ahead.

"Because it’s not normal," he says finally.

"Neither is wearing gloves all the time," you shoot back without missing a beat.

His lips twitch upward for 0.2 seconds before flattening again—a microexpression so fleeting that most people wouldn’t have noticed it.

But you do.

"Fair," he mutters under his breath.

You take this as a victory and press on. "So? Can I?"

"No."

"But why?" Your voice edges into what could almost be described as a whine—not because you’re upset, but because you genuinely don’t understand why he’s being so difficult about something so seemingly insignificant.

Yoongi stops abruptly again—his second unplanned halt in less than five minutes—and turns to face you fully this time. His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse spike by 8 beats per minute.

"Because," he says slowly, enunciating each syllable like it physically pains him to explain this to you, "if I let you hold my hand without gloves, it won’t stop there."

You blink, processing his words.

"What do you mean it won't stop there?"

Your head tilts exactly 4.3 degrees to the right—a physical manifestation of your curiosity. Yoongi's jaw tightens, the muscle visibly tensing beneath his skin.

"Just drop it."

"Is it just the hands?" you press, undeterred by his obvious discomfort. "Or would any skin contact cause this... whatever it is you're concerned about?"

"Any skin contact," he answers flatly.

You process this new variable. "So if I touch any part of your skin, the reaction would be the same?"

"Yes."

His response is clipped, precise—clearly hoping brevity will discourage further inquiry.

It doesn't.

"Is that why we're both covered head to toe? To prevent skin contact?"

The question emerges as you glance down at your own tactical gear, noting how thoroughly it encases your body.

"Yes."

"But not our faces," you point out, studying the exposed skin of his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead. "Our faces remain uncovered."

He exhales, the sound carrying precisely 23% more frustration than his previous sigh.

"Covering our faces would make us suspicious to CHRONOS agents. We need to blend in."

Your analysis immediately detects the logical inconsistency.

“Your resistance movement seems quite popular among CHRONOS employees. I've counted at least 27 defectors in your facility."

"Mhm."

"How come agents don't recognize you then?" The question presents itself naturally as you catalog variables. "Wouldn't they have put a face to your name by now? Especially given your apparent leadership position?"

"Part of my ability."

Your temporal readings spike by 0.12% at the mention of his ability. You've been collecting fragments of information since arriving, piecing together a picture of what each team member can do. But Yoongi's ability remains the most significant unknown variable.

"What's your ability?" You ask directly, knowing the probability of receiving a straightforward answer approaches zero.

Indeed, his lips quirk upward—0.3 millimeters, right side only.

"Guess."

You narrow your eyes, cataloging the available data:

- His ability relates to temporal manipulation

- It affects perception

- It involves skin contact

- It has restoration properties, as demonstrated with your glove

"Time manipulation," you venture, knowing it's insufficient but hoping to prompt elaboration.

"Not specific enough."

"Temporal reconstruction?" You recalibrate, adding the restoration variable.

He makes that sound again—the one that's almost amusement but contains too much restraint.

“Closer."

Your analytical mind sorts through theoretical temporal abilities, discarding those incompatible with observed phenomena.

“Chronological restoration with perceptual manipulation components."

His eyebrow raises by exactly 0.4 centimeters. "Sometimes I forget how unnecessarily technical you can be."

"Is that accurate?" you press.

"Parts of it."

His attention shifts to the street ahead, where the monitoring hub should be visible. But it isn't. Not where your memory insists it should be.

You follow his gaze, temporal cognition struggling to reconcile the discrepancy.

"The hub is missing."

"No," he corrects, "it's been moved. Remember?"

The correction creates a curious double-vision effect in your cognitive processing—you simultaneously remember the hub at its original location AND at its new position three blocks east.

Your nose starts bleeding.

Agent Min doesn't even look—simply extends the black handkerchief towards your nose.

"Stop trying to hold both memories at once," he instructs, voice dropping to 42 decibels. "Accept the new one as current reality while maintaining awareness that it's been altered."

"That's contradictory," you argue, pressing the handkerchief to your nose.

"Not to your brain, it isn't." His eyes never leave the street ahead, yet you sense his focus remains partially on you. "Your temporal signature allows you to perceive both timelines simultaneously. The cognitive dissonance is what causes the bleeding."

"How do you know so much about my temporal signature?" The question emerges with sudden intensity.

His jaw tightens. "Focus on the mission."

"Answer the question."

"No."

Your frustration spikes by approximately 37%.

“You know significantly more about my physiological responses than should be possible given our limited interaction history."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Classified."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes—a social gesture you've never found particularly productive.

“That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting right now." His tone shifts, carrying a finality that suggests further inquiry would be pointless.

Your gaze returns to the street, where two distinct sets of memories continue to overlap in your perception. The monitoring hub that should be directly ahead isn't there. Instead, an upscale coffee shop occupies the space, patrons moving in and out with the synchronized efficiency of people who have no idea reality has been restructured around them.

"They don't notice," you murmur, observing the civilians. "They genuinely believe that coffee shop has always been there."

"Yes." Agent Min's confirmation is unnecessary but appreciated. "For them, reality is singular and consistent. No contradictions."

"And for us?"

His eyes meet yours briefly. "For Outliers, reality is... negotiable."

“Outliers. That’s me now, too.”

"Yes. People whose temporal signatures resist CHRONOS manipulation," he elaborates, voice dropping lower. "People who remember when reality changes. People who can see through the illusion."

"Like right now," you note, focusing on the coffee shop while maintaining awareness of the monitoring hub that should occupy its space. "I can hold both versions simultaneously."

"Exactly." For once, he doesn't sound annoyed by your analysis. "That's what makes you valuable. And dangerous."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.42%.

Agent Min's eyes flick to your wrist. "We need to stabilize you before continuing. Your variance is climbing."

"I'm fine," you counter, though the persistent throbbing behind your eyes suggests otherwise.

"You're not." His contradiction carries no room for debate. "Find somewhere quiet. Now."

You scan the area, identifying a narrow alley between buildings approximately 34 meters ahead.

“There."

He follows your gaze and nods once, already adjusting his trajectory. His stride lengthens by precisely 0.07 meters—not enough for casual observation to detect, but you note the change immediately.

The alley provides 68% reduction in ambient noise and 74% decrease in visual stimuli—optimal conditions for temporal stabilization according to the limited data you've gathered.

Agent Min positions himself at precisely 47 centimeters from you—close enough for what you now understand is temporal alignment, but far enough to maintain whatever invisible boundary he's established.

"Your variance is too high," he states, glancing at your watch. "We need to reduce it before continuing."

"How?" The question is direct, clinical—exactly how you intend it.

His expression shifts, eyes darkening by approximately 12%. "Proximity and synchronized breathing. It's slow but effective."

Your analytical mind immediately identifies the logical gap.

"If proximity helps stabilize my temporal signature, then closer proximity should logically be more efficient. Physical contact would provide maximum efficiency."

His jaw tightens so suddenly you can almost hear the teeth grinding.

"No."

"Why not? It's the most logical solution."

"Because I said so."

The childish response seems deliberately designed to irritate you.

It works.

"That's not a scientifically valid reason," you counter, crossing your arms. "Is there another method besides proximity and breathing?"

"No."

His response comes too quickly—0.37 seconds faster than his average response time. You narrow your eyes, analytical mind immediately flagging the statistical anomaly.

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying," he counters, voice dropping to that dangerous octave that somehow makes your skin prickle despite the climate-controlled tactical gear. "I'm just not telling you the whole truth."

"That's the same thing."

"It's really not." His lips quirk upward in that infuriating half-smile. "One involves active deception. The other involves strategic omission."

"Strategic omission," you repeat, the term rolling off your tongue with obvious distaste. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We've always called it that. You just don't remember."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps again: Temporal variance: 1.57%.

"Your variance is still climbing," he notes, voice shifting to something that might almost be concern if you didn't know better. "Focus on your breathing. Match mine."

You want to argue further, to push until he breaks and gives you the answers your analytical mind craves. But the pressure behind your eyes is intensifying, and your temporal readings are becoming increasingly unstable.

"Fine," you concede, though the word carries more edge than intended. "Breathing."

He inhales slowly—4 seconds in, 6 seconds out—establishing a rhythm that your body automatically begins to follow.

The synchronization feels practiced, like muscle memory you shouldn't possess.

"Why do I know this pattern?"

"Because your body remembers even when your mind doesn't."

"You keep saying that. It is not scientifically possible."

"Then why is it working?”

Your temporal variance begins to decrease—1.52%, 1.47%, 1.39%—the numbers falling in precise correlation with your synchronized breathing.

"Fascinating," you murmur, analytical mind already calculating the energy transfer mechanisms that might explain this phenomenon. "The temporal resonance between our signatures creates a stabilizing effect that—"

"Stop analyzing it," he interrupts, the command carrying a sharp edge. "The more you try to understand it, the worse your variance gets."

"That's counterintuitive."

"Welcome to temporal physics." His tone carries a dry humor that catches you off guard. "Where everything you think you know is wrong, and trying to figure out why makes your nose bleed."

Despite yourself, your lips twitch upward.

Illogical.

“That's an inefficient system."

"It's by design." His eyes never leave yours as he continues the breathing pattern. "CHRONOS doesn't want people understanding how reality actually works."

"And you do?"

A softening around the eyes that lasts precisely 0.7 seconds swallows his pupils before disappearing.

"I want you to understand. Just not all at once."

The admission carries more weight than it should, creating a curious pressure in your chest that defies analytical categorization.

Your variance continues to decrease—1.31%, 1.24%, 1.18%—each number bringing you closer to stability.

"There's something you're not telling me," you state, the certainty absolute despite having no empirical evidence to support it.

His lips quirk upward—0.4 millimeters, right side only.

"There are approximately 7,429 things I'm not telling you, A-735. You'll have to be more specific."

"About stabilization methods." Your eyes narrow, focusing on the micro-expressions that betray him. "There's another way, isn't there? Something more efficient than this."

His breathing pattern falters for exactly 0.3 seconds—a statistical anomaly that confirms your hypothesis.

"Yes," he admits finally, the word emerging with obvious reluctance.

"What is it?"

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that makes your pulse accelerate by 7.2 beats per minute.

"Nothing you need to know right now."

"I disagree."

"Shocking."

The sarcasm in his tone is so thick you could practically measure its density. Strangely, it registers a progress in your head.

"Is it dangerous?"

“Not in the way you're thinking."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

He holds your gaze for exactly 3.7 seconds—42% longer than standard conversational eye contact.

“Because once you know, you'll want to try it. And once you try it..." He pauses, something raw and unguarded flashing in his eyes. "Let's just say it complicates things."

"How?"

"Classified."

You exhale sharply through your nose, frustration spiking by approximately 43%.

"You can't just classify everything you don't want to explain."

"Actually," he counters, that infuriating half-smile returning, "I can. It's one of the perks of being in charge."

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told." His eyes flicker to your watch. "1.03%. Almost stable."

Your variance continues to decrease—0.97%, 0.92%, 0.88%—each number bringing you closer to the standard range.

"We should continue the mission," you state once your readings stabilize at 0.84%.

He nods once, already turning toward the street. But before he can take a step, you catch his wrist—your gloved fingers wrapping around the tactical material covering his arm.

He freezes, entire body tensing like you've applied an electric shock.

"This isn't over," you state, voice low and precise. "I will figure it out."

His eyes meet yours, something dark and dangerous flickering in their depths.

"I know you will. You always do."

The statement carries too much weight, too much history that you can't access. But before you can question it, he gently extracts his wrist from your grip and steps back onto the street.

You follow, sorting through the fragments of information, piecing together the puzzle that is Agent Min.

He's hiding something. Something important. Something about you, about him, about whatever connection exists between you that defies logical explanation.

And you're definitely going to figure out what it is.

You’ve been walking for exactly twenty-three minutes.

And Agent Min has looked at you ten times in the past five.

Each glance is quick—measured flickers of attention, like he’s trying to calculate something without setting off an alarm.

You count them anyway. You always count things when you don’t know what they mean.

The silence stretches between you, and it’s thick; clinging really. You expected him to appreciate it—your restraint, your control, your refusal to ask questions he won’t answer.

But instead, he’s growing restless.

Another glance. Quick. Sharp.

You stop walking.

He takes two more steps before realizing you aren’t following, turning around with a tilt of his head that would seem casual if it weren’t so obviously deliberate.

You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. Catalog the slight shift in his posture.

“What.”

It comes out flat. Demanding.

He exhales—short, controlled, dismissive.

“Nothing.”

You frown, recalculating. “Then stop looking at me.”

He raises an eyebrow by approximately 0.5 centimeters. Very deliberate. Very measured.

“Not looking at you.”

You tilt your head, mirroring his earlier gesture.

“Incorrect. You’ve looked at me ten times in the last five minutes. Nine, if you want to exclude peripheral glances.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, which statistically increases the likelihood that he’s internally debating whether arguing is worth it.

You decide to press anyway. “Why?”

His mouth tightens, a minuscule shift of muscle you might have missed before. Not now. Now you notice everything.

“You’re distracting,” he says finally. Short. Clipped. Like ripping off a bandage.

You blink, recalibrating.

“How?”

He sighs, heavier this time—more oxygen expended, betraying more irritation than he probably intends.

“You’re…” He searches for the word like it’s a personal affront to have to find it. “…loud.”

“I’m not speaking.”

“Exactly.”

You process that.

“So my silence is distracting.”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re used to me questioning you.”

“Partly.”

Your eyes narrow. His left hand flexes at his side, the faint creak of leather betraying tension he’s probably holding in check.

“Then elaborate,” you say. Curious. Intrigued despite yourself.

“No.”

You resist the urge to sigh back at him—your own version of his exasperation.

“Is it proximity?” you try again. “I can increase distance if needed.”

The corner of his mouth twitches—barely—but enough to register.

“It’s not proximity,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“Then what is it?”

His eyes flicker back to you, sharp and cutting.

“You’re unpredictable,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

You tilt your head again, absorbing that.

“Unpredictability usually denotes a flaw in pattern recognition,” you say thoughtfully. “And you pride yourself on anticipating variables.”

His expression tightens, the faintest edge of irritation sparking.

Good. You’re getting somewhere.

“You’re not a variable,” he says finally, voice low. “You’re an anomaly.”

Your heart stutters—not from sentiment, but from the weight of the word.

Anomaly. Noma.

The nickname he’s never explained.

You hold his gaze, cataloging the dilation of his pupils, the slight tremor in his exhale.

0.4 seconds too long before he looks away.

Enough to register. Enough to matter.

You tilt your head a fraction to the left. Testing. Probing.

“Your behavior denotes a penchant for sadism,” you observe. Neutral enough to pretend the words don’t sting a little when they land between you.

Yoongi exhales—slow, the faintest curl of amusement threading through the air.

“Because I’m sadistic, clearly,” he mutters, voice rougher than necessary.

Calculated imperfection.

You narrow your eyes. Catalog the rhythm of his steps, how they slow imperceptibly as you fall into pace again, how the ambient noise seems to dull when he speaks.

“You are being purposefully obtuse,” you accuse, sharper this time. “Being wistfully cryptic does not align with leadership traits. I would assume the leader of the 7th Hour would not engage in childish tactics.”

A beat.

He hums low in his throat—a noise of neither agreement nor denial. More like he’s tasting your words, deciding whether to bother answering at all.

“Me?” he says finally, deadpan. “Childish? Never.”

The dryness of it slashes across your skin like a blade dipped in velvet.

You scowl, which only earns you another flicker of that infuriating almost-smirk.

“I expected more,” you say, voice clipped. Measured. “That is on me for applying inappropriate expectations.”

“You’ll learn.” His tone drops, lazy and lethal. “Eventually.”

The way he says it—you’ll learn—prickles under your skin.

Because it doesn’t sound like a threat.

It sounds like a promise.

Your body catalogues the microadjustments again: the flex of leather at his hands, the sharp lines of his jaw as he grinds out the words with so little effort it’s almost mocking.

You resist the irrational urge to step closer.

Proximity is inefficient. Emotional responses disrupt cognitive processing.

You recite it mentally like a catechism.

Still.

The question rises, unbidden.

The same way it seems to always do with him.

“What is the mission objective?”

Blunt. Necessary. Something to tether yourself back to reason.

He doesn’t break stride. Doesn’t even flinch.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says instead, so casually it almost doesn’t register as condescension. Almost. “You’ll figure it out.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. Inefficient communication strategies. You’re tempted to cite the statistical decrease in operational success rates when leadership fails to fully brief its agents, but he’s baiting you. Purposefully.

And you, predictably, are already chasing.

“Statistically,” you begin, voice taut with precision, “the likelihood of successful insertion without a clear objective—”

“Statistically,” he cuts in, unbothered, “there shouldn’t even be a 25th hour.”

The implication lands harder than it should.

You tighten your jaw, recalibrating, watching how he watches you.

Like he’s daring you to keep up.

“You are evading,” you say. “Obfuscating under the guise of intellectual superiority.”

“Am I?” he says, feigning disinterest. His shoulders shrug—barely, beautifully. “Or maybe you just don’t like not being the smartest person in the room.”

You blink once. Slow. Methodical.

Your pulse betrays you anyway, kicking up by approximately 6 bpm.

“You overestimate your own cleverness,” you say evenly, even though some traitorous part of you wants him to keep doing it.

Keep outsmarting you. Keep sparring until the tension snaps under its own weight.

“You underestimate my patience,” he counters.

Another tiny smirk. Quicker this time. Sharper.

Your chest feels too tight around your ribs.

Inefficient physiological response.

You step away—not because you want distance, but because your processing centers are beginning to overload. You need new data. A new angle.

You pivot sharply toward the park ahead.

Three steps away before you hear his chuckle—so quiet you almost mistake it for a glitch in ambient noise.

You don’t turn back.

Instead, you focus on the new structure—the park that wasn’t there before.

It waits ahead, pristine and out of place. Grass too green. Air too clean. Symmetry too perfect.

Manufactured. Synthetic.

You slow your pace, narrowing your eyes, cataloging inconsistencies: tree spacing (1.3 meters apart, unnaturally even), the curvature of the path (identical to simulation model 8C), the temperature drop (2 degrees lower than the surrounding sector).

You feel Yoongi’s presence a few steps behind you. Not following. Not chasing.

Waiting.

Just like he always does.

Just like he always has.

And somehow, despite everything you know—despite every logic protocol firing in your mind—you want him to follow anyway.

You inhale sharply. Taste static on your tongue.

Focus.

Not on him.

On the mission.

On the park.

Focus on anything except the way Min Yoongi—a ghost, an anomaly—manages to outsmart you without even trying.

So that’s what you do—you focus forward, eyes locking onto the new structure rising ahead of you—all marble paths and manicured trees and gentle, glistening statues under the waning light.

A park that didn’t exist last week.

A plaza that hums wrong against your skin.

Your steps slow as you approach, instinct warning you even before your mind can fully process it.

You analyze the angles of the paths. The symmetry of the displays. The too-perfect gloss of the stone.

The air feels wrong here—too still, like it's been filtered of something vital.

But curiosity nags at you. It always does, when things defy explanations.

You step forward into the park, assessing its dimensions with a precision that seems excessive even to you. The perimeter measures exactly 247.8 meters around. The pathways curve at identical 30-degree angles. The statues are placed at equidistant intervals of precisely 12.4 meters.

Perfect. Too perfect.

Your temporal readings spike by 0.17% as you observe families strolling casually through what your analytical mind categorizes as a statistical impossibility. A man pushes a stroller past a bronze figure frozen mid-gesture. A couple takes selfies beneath the outstretched arm of another.

"The Garden of Stability," reads a polished plaque at the entrance. "Honoring those who sacrificed to maintain our timeline."

You've never seen this place before. You're certain of it.

Yet your Chrono-Sync Watch registers no anomalies beyond the acceptable variance threshold.

Curious.

You move deeper into the garden, cataloging details: like the fact that the statues are eerily lifelike—capturing expressions with a fidelity that exceeds current manufacturing capabilities by approximately 27%.

Furthermore, each statue has a small plaque fixed to its base.

You approach the nearest one, a figure of a woman with her hand extended, fingers splayed as if reaching for something just beyond grasp.

"In memory of Eska Thior—sacrificed herself to stabilize Sector 7 during the temporal disturbance of 2156."

Your eyes narrow as you analyze the woman's expression.

The sculptor has captured what should be determination, but there's something else—something in the eyes that registers as wrong.

Your visual processing identifies it as fear, not resolve.

You move to the next statue. A man looking skyward, one foot slightly raised as if caught mid-step.

"In memory of Vayon Zesian—sacrificed himself to protect civilian timelines during the Sector 4 anomaly."

The black man's face is frozen in what the plaque suggests is awe or reverence. But your pattern recognition flags inconsistencies: the tension in his jaw is 38% higher than would be expected in a reverent expression. His fingers are curved at angles suggesting resistance, not surrender.

Your head throbs—a dull, persistent ache that intensifies as you catalog each discrepancy. Yet you continue, your analytical mind demanding more data despite the physical discomfort.

A sharp tug at your wrist interrupts your analysis. You turn, ready to object to the invasion of your personal space, when you register Agent Min's face exactly 31.7 centimeters from yours. His eyes contain a warning that makes no logical sense given the context.

"Shh," he says, the sound barely audible at 22 decibels. "Act normal."

You blink, processing both the command and the unusual tension in his posture. His hand remains on your wrist, gloved fingers gripping with precisely 42% more pressure than necessary for attention-getting purposes.

"This wasn't here yesterday," you whisper, your voice automatically matching his volume. "It's new."

"Yes, it is," he confirms, his eyes never meeting yours. Instead, they scan the perimeter. "And I'd advise against looking at the statues."

The request is illogical. You're already looking at them. You've already cataloged five discrepancies and three statistical anomalies in their design.

"Why?" you ask, the question forming before you can process the tension radiating from his body.

You turn away from him precisely as he tightens his grip—too late to stop your movement. Your eyes land on a statue directly ahead, positioned 15.3 meters from your current location.

A man in a CHRONOS uniform, arms outstretched as if embracing the air around him.

Robin.

Your cognitive processes stutter, creating a 0.7-second delay between visual input and meaning assignment.

Robin. Cubicle 47-B. Coffee preference: black with one sugar. Temporal compliance rating: 98.7%. Lunch companion: yesterday, 12:37 PM to 1:14 PM.

"That's Robin," you state, your voice dropping to 19 decibels. "I had lunch with him yesterday."

Your stomach contracts unexpectedly, digestive acids rising by approximately 37%. Your neural pathways struggle to reconcile the contradiction: Robin alive yesterday. Robin memorialized today.

Robin moving, breathing, complaining about the cafeteria's tempeh option yesterday.

Robin frozen in bronze today.

No fabrication facility could produce a statue this detailed in less than 24 hours.

The metallurgical processes alone would require at minimum 72 hours for casting and cooling, with an additional 48 for detailing and patina development.

Unless...

Your analytical mind reaches the conclusion precisely as your stomach lurches again—a visceral response you didn't anticipate and cannot control.

They're not statues.

"We need to leave," Agent Min says, voice pitched extremely low.

His fingers adjust on your wrist, shifting downward by 2.3 centimeters until they rest against the pulse point where your glove meets your sleeve.

Your heart rate increases by 13.7 beats per minute.

Not from his touch. From the realization.

"They're not statues," you confirm aloud, your voice clinical despite the acid burning the back of your throat. "They're people. Frozen in some form of temporal stasis."

Agent Min's jaw tightens, the muscle visibly tensing beneath his skin.

“Not here," he warns, his voice barely audible. "Camera at your two o'clock, range 17 meters. Audio capture capabilities."

You process this new variable, immediately adjusting your behavior patterns. Your posture shifts by 4.3 degrees—more casual, less alert. Your expression recalibrates to something 76% more neutral.

"The craftsmanship is remarkable," you say at standard conversational volume, the words feeling like ash on your tongue. "Such attention to detail."

Agent Min's eyes flash with something that might be approval if it weren't overshadowed by urgency.

“We should continue our walk," he says evenly. "There's more to see in Sector 4."

His fingers remain at your pulse point for exactly 2.7 seconds longer than necessary before releasing. The warmth lingers—a ghost sensation you struggle to categorize.

You follow his lead, moving away from Robin's frozen form with measured steps despite the increasing pressure in your chest. Your breathing adjusts automatically—in for 4 seconds, out for 6—matching the pattern Agent Min established earlier.

Families continue to mill around you, oblivious to the horror disguised as art. A child points at Robin's statue, tugging at her mother's sleeve.

"He looks so happy, mommy! Like he's giving everyone a big hug!"

Your vision blurs by approximately 12%—an inexplicable visual phenomenon you'll need to analyze later.

Agent Min positions himself precisely 47 centimeters to your left—close enough for temporal alignment, far enough to maintain whatever invisible boundary he's established.

But something has changed.

His posture carries 27% more tension than before, and his eyes scan the area with a renowned frequency.

"Don't look back," he instructs as you approach the park's exit. "And whatever you do, don't react when I tell you this."

You maintain your neutral expression, eyes fixed forward as instructed.

"There are seventeen of them in this garden," he says, voice low and controlled. "All from your monitoring facility. All disappeared within the last 72 hours."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.12%.

A warning. Your emotional response is affecting your temporal stability.

You inhale slowly, forcing your analytical mind to take precedence over the uncomfortable pressure building behind your sternum.

"Probability of coincidence: less than 0.003%," you calculate aloud, keeping your voice steady despite the data.

"It's not a coincidence," he confirms, voice dropping even lower. "It's a message."

"For who?"

His eyes meet yours briefly—0.8 seconds of direct contact that somehow feels heavier than it should.

"For us," he says simply. "For you."

Your temporal variance increases to 1.17%.

"They're hunting for Outliers," he continues, eyes scanning the path ahead. "This garden is both a warning and a trap. They're watching for reactions—for people who recognize what they're really seeing."

“That's why you grabbed my wrist. You anticipated my reaction."

A ghost of that infuriating half-smile crosses his face. "You're predictable in some ways, Noma."

The nickname dulls the ache sitting low in your stomach for reasons you cannot comprehend.

"Robin greeted me yesterday," you realize aloud, the pieces clicking into place. "At lunch. He looked at me strangely when I mentioned the temporal fluctuation in Sector 3."

Agent Min's expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes darkens.

“How long was the conversation?"

"17 minutes, 42 seconds."

"And did you discuss anything related to temporal anomalies after that?"

You review the memory, analyzing each exchange with renewed scrutiny.

"Negative. The conversation shifted to cafeteria food quality."

He exhales—a controlled release of breath that betrays nothing of his thoughts.

“That might have been enough."

Your stomach lurches.

Robin is frozen in bronze because of you. Because he noticed something. Because he might have reported it.

The data is insufficient for a definitive conclusion, but the probability exceeds 72.4%.

Your temporal variance increases to 1.23%.

"Steady," Agent Min murmurs, his voice carrying a cadence that seems designed to stabilize your readings. "Focus on your breathing. In for 4, out for 6."

You comply automatically, your body responding to the instruction before your mind can process why.

"Is this what happens to all Outliers?" you ask once your variance stabilizes at 1.09%. "They become... monuments?"

"No," he says finally. "Most are simply erased and reprogrammed. This is... new."

"A tactical adjustment," you surmise. "Enhanced psychological warfare."

"Yes."

"Why now?"

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that makes your pulse accelerate by 7.2 beats per minute.

"Because they're getting desperate."

"Why would CHRONOS be desperate? They control reality itself."

His eyes meet yours, something unreadable flashing in their depths.

“That's what I'd like to know," he mutters, voice dropping to that dangerous octave that makes your skin prickle.

The discrepancy registers immediately. Agent Min doesn't ask questions—he provides answers, often cryptic and insufficient, but answers nonetheless. This response pattern deviates by approximately 87% from established behavioral norms.

Before you can analyze further, your body betrays you.

It starts as a contraction in your esophagus—sudden, violent, measuring approximately 74% stronger than standard swallowing reflex. Your salivary glands activate at 243% above baseline, flooding your mouth with excess moisture. Your stomach muscles clench in rhythmic waves, each contraction more intense than the last.

The analytical part of your mind calculates: gastric acid rising at 7.2 centimeters per second, diaphragm contracting at 3.7 times normal pressure, throat constricting at 82% capacity.

The rest of you simply feels.

Robin's face. Frozen in bronze that isn't bronze.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps a warning: Temporal variance: 2.43%.

A dangerous spike.

Your body heaves, doubling you over with a force that defies voluntary control. The acid burns at exactly 4.7 on the pH scale, searing the back of your throat as you fight to contain it. Your vision narrows to a field of approximately 47 degrees, peripheral awareness fading as your sensory systems redirect all processing power to the immediate crisis.

You register Agent Min's hand on your back—exactly T4 vertebra, pressure precisely calibrated at 2.3 kilograms, generating heat at 38.2°C despite the glove barrier.

"CHRONOS agents," he says, voice suddenly sharp with urgency. "Two o'clock, range 43 meters. Moving this way."

Your body doesn't care about CHRONOS agents. Your body only knows that Robin is frozen in timeless agony while families take selfies beneath his outstretched arms.

Another contraction—87% stronger than the previous one. Your analytical mind attempts to categorize the physiological response but finds no suitable parameters.

This isn't logical. This isn't efficient. This isn't you.

Agent Min's hand moves from your spine to your wrist in one fluid motion. His fingers lock around the pulse point where your glove meets your sleeve, grip tensing to exactly 3.6 kilograms of pressure.

"Move. Now."

Your body moves before your mind processes the instruction, legs automatically adjusting to match his sudden directional shift. You register environmental changes with fragmented precision: ambient temperature decreasing by 1.7°C, crowd density increasing by 23%, noise levels rising to 72 decibels.

Agent Min guides you, his body angled at exactly 37 degrees relative to yours—shielding you from direct line of sight with the approaching agents while maintaining casual appearance.

"Temporal signature spiking," he mutters, grip tightening by another 0.4 kilograms. "They'll detect it if we don't stabilize you."

Your watch confirms his assessment: Temporal variance: 3.17%.

Critical threshold approaching.

The nausea intensifies, each wave synchronized perfectly with the beeping of your watch. Their correlation approaches 97.3%—statistically significant by any measure.

"Coffee shop," Agent Min decides, adjusting your trajectory by 28 degrees. "Northeast corner. Dampening field in the walls."

Your cognitive processes struggle to keep pace with the sensory overload. The street blurs around you—not from speed but from some perceptual distortion your analytical mind cannot quantify.

You glimpse your reflection in a storefront window as you pass—your face pale by approximately 37% compared to baseline, pupils dilated to 7.2 millimeters, micro-expressions cycling at 3.4 times normal rate.

You barely recognize yourself.

Another contraction seizes your stomach, more violent than before. Agent Min's arm shifts, sliding around your waist with a familiarity that feels habitual despite being entirely new.

"Almost there," he says, voice dropping to that calibrated cadence that seems designed to stabilize your readings. "In for 4, out for 6. Match me."

Your body complies automatically, respiratory system syncing to his pattern without conscious direction.

CHRONOS agents appear in your peripheral vision—three of them, moving with the unnatural precision that marks them as Timekeepers. Their trajectory will intersect with yours in approximately 12.3 seconds at current velocity.

"They're tracking your signature," Agent Min confirms, pace increasing by 0.3 meters per second. "Coffee shop.”

The coffee shop materializes ahead—a nondescript building with that averageness that makes it practically invisible to casual observation. Its design incorporates exactly zero distinguishing architectural features, rendering it 87% forgettable to the human brain.

Perfect camouflage.

Agent Min guides you through the door body positioned at precisely the optimal angle to shield yours from external observation. The bell chimes at exactly 56 hertz—a frequency your analytical mind flags as mathematically significant though you cannot immediately determine why.

The door closes behind you with a soft click that somehow sounds final.

Agent Min's arm remains around your waist—a point of contact your body accepts with suspicious automaticity.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps one last time before falling silent: Temporal variance: 1.78%.

Decreasing. Stabilizing.

The nausea recedes by approximately 42%, leaving behind a hollow sensation you cannot properly categorize.

Agent Min's eyes meet yours, and he looks… concerned?

"Breathe," he instructs.

You comply, your body responding to his command without conscious direction.

In for 4.

Out for 6.

In for 4.

Out for 6.

goal: 100 notes.

next | index

— taglist

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @ktownshizzle @yoongiiuu93 @billy-jeans23 @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218 @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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cowboylikeyouu · 7 months ago

Text

🦾 WINTERHAWK RECS 🏹

@bl0ssomized asked for some winterhawk fic recs & i took that as my sign to finally sit down, go through my 500+ bookmarks and provide y'all with my fav fics <3 if you end up reading/enjoying any of these, PLEASE make sure to leave a comment on ao3, the authors deserve all the nice words in the world!!

about this list:

most of these fics are pretty popular in the fandom, so this list is more directed at new fans just joining the winterhawk paradise!! (there's a lot on here tho, so maybe you find one you haven't read yet)

bee asked for little to no smut, so i'm not gonna rec any pwp works here (with a few exceptions). if you want smut recs, hmu tho, i got y'all

there's obviously still smut in many of these fics, but i tried to tell you if it's important/skippable or not. if you don't mind smut i obviously recommend reading it bc GOD these authors just know their shit, but i think nobody should miss out on the amazing long fics just bc they don't like smut :)

i put a "notes" section for every fic where i just yap about it and/or my feelings towards it for a bit bc i literally can't shut up about these two guys.

alright, i think that's all, let's go!! pls tell me if i messed up the links somwhere :)

50k+ words

Lucky In Love by dr_girlfriend

words: ~60k

important tags: no powers AU, oh my god they were roommates!, friends to lovers, mutual pining

notes: every time i give winterhawk recs to a new fan i start with lucky in love, bc even tho it’s an AU, it has soo many of the typical winterhawk tropes i love so much. PLUS: roomates. and lucky. and every chapter is titled “aw, [something], no” and i find that way too funny to not mention. idk it’s just one of that fics that gives me the warmest & fuzziest of warm fuzzy feelings and i think everyone should read it.

smut: even tho it has the wonderful, wonderful tag “not gonna tag every sex act just trust me there’s plenty”, there’s actually not that many. in my opinion, the perfect amount for a 60k, 21 chapters winterhawk fic. it’s quite a slow-burn, so they’re only in the later chapters anyway, and the build up to it is soOoo good. this is one of the fics where i know exactly where to find the smut scenes so feel free to hmu.

Like Real People Do by Kangofu_CB

words: ~67k

important tags: “i actually just wanted to watch these two idiots fall in love in a secluded cabin ok”; civil war fix it

notes: no one, NO ONE gets me like this fic, it checks like every single one of my boxes. perfection. not lying when i say it’s my favorite fic of all time. it doesn’t have a special premise or anything, but that’s the good thing about it. it’s just so… cozy. comfy. feels like home. i can’t even remember if like real people do is my favorite hozier song because of this fic or if it’s my fav fic bc like real people do is my fav hozier song, but i know that i never cried as hard as i did when i heard lrpd live and could only think about this fic. nothing makes me feel as good as re-reading this story, i want to eat it.

smut: yes, but only like 2,5 scenes. hmu and i tell you the exact fucking paragraph number or smth, this fic is literally engraved in my soul. thank you CB. some day i’ll leave a 2k words comment on every single chapter.

The Other Man out of Time by sara_holmes

words: ~97k

important tags: time travel, falling in love, clint barton centric

notes: okay so this is kinda the best winterhawk fic in existence?? not my absolute favorite bc it makes me cry too much, but definitely top 3. no other winterhawk fic made me sob this hard, no other winterhawk fic makes me wanna curl up on the floor and cry for an hour every time i think about it. that being said: IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!! and a lot of stuff in between is SO sweet as well. premise is basically: clint travels back in time and fights in wwii alongside bucky and they fall in love. and then bucky!canon happens. you get it? you get it. it’s- UGH it’s so good. jesus. i’m crying.

smut: a few short sexy scenes i think, but no SMUT smut, and it’s definitely definitely DEFINITELY not the focus of the story. can’t emphasise enough how much everyone should read this

Hipsters get Remembered, Legend’s Never Die by sara_holmes

words: ~90k

important tags: millennial bucky barnes, awesome clint barton, recovery

notes: millennial bucky is one of the most entertaining things fandom came up with, and this fic is the epitome of that trope. love love LOVE. plus, clint’s really fucking awesome in this.

smut: yes, but only like two or three times in 11 chapters, easily skippable

Puzzle Pieces (series) by sara_holmes

words: ~446k

important tags: steve/tony, kid fic, emotional hurt

notes: if you don’t like stony this one isn’t for you, just skip to next one :) if you like stony: GOD pls read puzzle pieces!! the first 200k words fic is stony focused and has only pre-slash winterhawk, but even tho they don’t get together in this one yet it’s literally one of my favorite clint/bucky portrayals of all time, no one gets them like sara, it’s perfect. the stony/kid fic storyline is SO amazing as well, so if that’s your cup of tea, check. it. out. after that they’re a few longer winterhawk instalments, and while some of them are really angsty and painful, there’s always a happy ending. god i need to re-read this entire thing. it makes me wanna cry and throw up in all the good ways.

smut: some, but you can definitely skip it.

I’ll keep you safe here with me by sara_holmes

words: ~110k

important tags: kidnapping, PTSD, mind control aftermath & recovery

notes: ngl i haven’t read this one in a long time, but everything by sara is perfect and this one’s one of the most kudo’d winterhawk fics, so it’s basically a must read. everyone needs to read a good clint & the winter soldier fic at least once

smut: it’s rated mature, so no really explicit smut. can’t remember if they don’t get a bit horny tho.

A Heart Worth Loving by Kangofu_CB

words: ~82k

important tages: soulmate AU, no powers AU, modern bucky barnes, forced cohabitation

notes: GOOD FUCKING SOUP. soulmate au AND they were roommates????? beat that. it takes them ages to figure out they’re soulmates, which makes this equally amazing and frustrating, but it’s all so so worth it

smut: yes, at the end of it. you CAN skip it, although i recommend skimming through it and read the dialogue parts and stuff.

if you were a mythical thing by Kangofu_CB

words: ~75k

important tags: teachers au, kid fic, werewolves

notes: quick story time for this one bc i remember it so so well lmao: winterhawk olympic bang 2022, most authors had started to post their fics except for CB and i KNEW she had written one, and i was literally checking my emails every hour for days. and then she finally posted it and i already started screaming when i saw the taylor lyrics as a title, and then i read those three tags and literally had to sit on my floor for 20 minutes to calm down bc i was so excited. i remember posting like 20 stories on my private insta that were just me keysmashing lmaoo. idk but teachers + kid fic + werewolves is just such a BONKERS combination, and i can promise you’re in for a treat, it’s so so fun. 15/10.

smut: yes, but it takes some time to get there and it’s skippable

Adventures in dogsitting by Call_Me_Kayyyyy

words: ~53k

important tags: friends to lovers, dogsitting, pining

notes: another olympic bang fic, thank you. cute, fun, lots of lucky content :) good soup

smut: NO SMUT

Under My skin (series) by finely honed

words: ~360k

important tags: Steve/Tony (the “main” instalment is stony focused), PTSD, Life after the army, AU - Tattoo Parlour

notes: the “first” instalment is a stony fic (one of my all time favs honestly) but with a lot of amazing side-winterhawk, and there’s a winterhawk spin-off, that’s a prequel to the stony arc, so you can just read that first if you want. it was one of the first english winterhawk fics i’ve ever read and it always makes me wanna cry when i think about it (in a good way).

smut: they’re quite horny in both big instalments, but i would say the smut is skippable. it’s not un-important for both the winterhawk and the stony dynamic tho, so i wouldn’t recommend doing that

This is Not a Date, it’s a Kidnapping by sara_holmes

words: ~50k

important tags: Fake Kidnapping, also real kidnapping, Bucky Barnes recovering, fake relationship

notes: all sara_holmes is good sara_holmes, but this one’s one of my favs, it’s just so fun. GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 2021, this was such a blast to read when it first came out!!

smut: NO SMUT

Freedom’s Reach by dr_girlfriend

words: ~68k

important tags: arranged marriage, western/historical AU, slow burn

notes: aaaand another winterhawk olympic bang 2021 fic! pretty sure this one was my fav during the bang, like i remember hitting up a friend of mine and screaming at each other for like an hour every time a new chapter dropped, we were SO invested. very good soup.

smut: yes, but it’s a sloooow build, so it’s only in the later chapters. pretty sure it’s easily skippable

ghost in the machine by squadrickchestopher

words: ~75k

important tags: fake character death, heavy angst, ghosts, loneliness

notes: UGHHHH clint “dies”, becomes a ghost and only bucky can see him. touch starved clint final boss basically. amazing shit. painful shit. (happy ending tho)

smut: it’s rated explicit and it’s by squaddy, so i’m like 99% sure there’s smut, i actually can’t remember tho lmao

Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins (series) by Kangofu_CB

words: ~90k

important tags: the slowest burn, the mcu reimagined completely, accidental baby acquisition, found family, kid fic

notes: this one’s an ongoing series, and it’s such an amazing one, you can feel all the love that’s been put into this. you have to go through like 60k of slow burn before winterhawk actually happens, but it’s soooo worth it. plus: kid fic. kid fic’s always good.

smut: yes, but only in the 3rd part and the short pwp oneshot. easily skippable

something magic, something tragic by squadrickchestopher

words: ~55k

important tags: supernatural elements, vampire bucky, enemies to lovers

notes: VAMPIRES!!! that should be enough to convince you to read this fic!! and it’s by squaddy, it literally can’t be bad if it’s by squaddy.

smut: ughhh not entirely sure, pretty sure the mature rating is mostly for violence, but, again, it’s squaddy, so it’s very possible there’s some sexy stuff hiding in there.

Sweet Home Was Home by there_must_be_a_lock

words: ~110k

important tags: “i sorta made my own franken-canon”, christmas fluff, soft feelings

notes: i found this one on accident once when i wasn’t really expecting to find another PERFECT long ass winterhawk fic i haven’t read yet, and then i binge-read it in one night, and it’s honestly one of the best i’ve ever read, it’s so so soft and… healing. for both bucky and clint and myself. it’s really not as popular as it should be imo, definitely worthy of a place on the first page of the ship tag!! highly HIGHLY recommend checking it out!!

smut: yes, but skippable

10k - 50k words

Starving for the Light by thepartyresponsible

words: ~45k

important tags: magic AU, soul bond

notes: jesus christ i wanna eat this fic so bad. definitely my favorite 2021 winterhawk olympic bang fic, it’s just THAT good. need to re-read it entirely to make sure, but i think it’s in my top 10 if not top 5 fav winterhawk fics of all time. clint’s just so… beautiful in this, idk how else to describe it. and idk, it has a such a unique premise and setting, i love everything about it.

smut: yes, but skippable.

Historic Features by flawedamythyst

words: ~19k

important tags: ghosts AU, homophobic violence

notes: oooohhh my god, don’t make me think about this fic i’m gonna cry. it’s actually pretty fun and cute and fucking awesome, but clint & bucky’s backstory in this?? i’m ugly crying, leave me alone. premise is basically: they’re ghosts and haunting the apartment they died in years ago, scaring everyone who tries to live there out of it. then steve and tony wanna move in. it’s fucking great.

smut: NO SMUT

Call It What You Want To by Kangofu_CB

words: ~48k

important tags: modern bucky barnes, sugar daddy

notes: clint becomes bucky’s sugar daddy on accident without realising and it’s the funniest fucking shit i’ve ever seen, god i love him so much. plus, again,,, millennial bucky barnes. gimme all the millennial bucky barnes.

smut: 3 or 4 scenes i think, starting as early as chapter… 2??? i think??? pretty skippable tho, as long as you read like the foreplay and everything.

A Thistle Cannot Grow by ccbytheseashore

words: ~12k

important tags: kid fic, developing relationship

notes: AHHHSDJGHSKJDHG. enough right?? i’m always a sucker for some good dad!clint & soft!bucky content. this one’s so so sweet it’s one of my main comfort fics, can’t recommend it enough if you love kid fics!

smut: yes, but it’s literally only like 500 words of frotting, you know when it’s coming and you know when it’s over :) (it’s amazing tho)

Attachments by Lissadiane

words: ~22k

important tags: high school au, mother hen bucky barnes, clint barton needs a hug

notes: i KNOW many people don’t like high school AUs and i don’t fucking care. teenage winterhawk has so much potential, i love them to death. which is exactly why you should read this ;)

smut: NO SMUT

Outnumbered by sara_holmes

words: ~18k

important tags: kid fic, triplets, no powers AU, bucky comes home to new york

notes: another single dad clint fic, but give him 3 boys this time!! —> chaos. amazing chaos. + amazing bucky. good soup.

smut: NO SMUT

Once Lost (now found) by Teeelsie

words: 40k

important tags: hurt clint barton, on the run, self sacrifice

notes: hurt clint barton final boss. this was written for whumptober, so you can imagine how bad it gets. SO worth it tho, even if you don’t really love that kind of stuff!

smut: NO SMUT (pretty sure clint’s too hurt to have any kind of sexual thoughts <3 stupid stupid stubborn man. i love him so much)

The Best Worst Thing (that hasn’t happened to you yet) by sara_holmes

words: ~48k

important tags: enemies to friends to lovers, rescue missions

notes: if you’re into comic winterhawk and read their tales of suspense run, you should definitely read this fic. if you haven’t read tales of suspense, go do that now and then come back to the fic, bc it’s basically a rewrite that gives us the bucky/clint & nat dynamic we fucking deserve

smut: don’t think so?

skylines and tan lines by flawedamythyst

words: ~33k

important tags: no powers AU, coronovirus lockdown, long distance flirting

notes: this was literally my fav fic during lockdown, i’m not lying when i say i read this at least 20 times in 2020/21 lmaoo. it’s just such a fun concept; bucky’s living with peggy/steve, and their dynamic is so enjoyable.

smut: there’s quite a bit of sexting & phone sex, plus a smut scene at the end. doesn’t take up the entire fic tho, and the rest is worth it as well.

Behind Bars by sara_holmes and Behind Bares (On The Other Side Remix) by flawedamythyst

words: ~32k (sara), ~25k (amy)

important tags: prison AU

notes: sara’s fic is the original, amy remixed it and wrote if from clint’s pov (with quite some changes). i love both fics, but i definitely read the remix more often and prefer it, but i highly recommend reading both, they’re amazing!! clint & bucky are cell mates!!! and it’s angsty!! a little bit!!

smut: can’t remember what it’s like in sara’s version, but it’s only rated mature soo... there’s definitely one or two smut scenes in amy’s fic, but easilyyy skippable, only like a few handjobs or smth i think.

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? by sara_holmes

words: ~25k

important tags: outer space, falling in love, clint feels

notes: a classic. falling in love long-distance is soo fun, and i love it when author’s touch-starve clint, so there’s that <3

smut: NO SMUT

A Christmas Miracle: Getting Lucky by Lissadiane

words: ~11k

important tags: christams, hallmark fic

notes: LUCKY!!!! i read this every single christmas. you should too. you’re welcome.

smut: NO SMUT

Dear Super-Secret Diary by flawedamythyst

words: ~16k

important tags: christmas fluff

notes: clint is bored and gets a diary (and the guy). a christmas must-read, it’s fun and cute and fluffy!!! one of the few times i will accept first person narration bc, well, it’s a goddamn diary

smut: NO SMUT

winterhawk punks in love (series) by 1000_directions

words: ~19k words

important tags: punk au, amputee bucky, deaf clint, ptsd, emotional hurt/comfort, recovery

notes: punk!winterhawk is so important to me I NEED MORE OF IT!!! this one’s such a perfect mix of happiness and angst and comfort UGH it just hits that spot.

smut: yes, but the fic’s still amazing if u skip it

Apple Of My Eye by flawedamythyst

words: ~40k

important tags: clint barton’s farm, found family, domestic

notes: FARM FIC FARM FIC FARM FIC!!! bucky, clint and wanda basically start an apple business on his farm, and it’s just soo comfy and awesome.

smut: NO SMUT

Alone in the Bitterness by Lissadiane

words: ~16k

important tags: no pwers au, nurse bucky, disaster clint

notes: nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky!!! do i have to say more??

smut: NO SMUT

Team Spirit by Noxnthea

words: 17k

important tags: case fic, enemies to lovers lite

notes: noxnthea is such an underrated author it’s a literal crime. i normally don’t love case fics that much, but this is a ghost hunters case fic AND their banter is so fun that it really doesn’t matter for me this time

smut: NO SMUT

Reach Out by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k

important tags: 5+1, a lot of sex tags, porn with feelings, feelings realisation

notes: CB’s smut always hits different, and idk, the +1 of this is just sooo funny and adorable, i love it to death. read this more times than i’ll admit.

smut: basically pwp, big no no if you don’t like smut.

Storms Within (Bridges Rebuilt) by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k

important tags: star wars setting, force sensitive bucky & clint, crack treated seriously

notes: guys you can’t imagine my excitement when the notif for this fic popped up in my emails. luke skywalker is one of my top 10 all time fav fictional characters AND HERE HE IS INTERACTING W MY FAV BOYS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!! it’s so so good, if you’re into star wars you’re gonna love it!! (even if not, it’s by CB, impossible to not enjoy)

smut: NO SMUT

Draw, Breathe, Fire by FestiveFerret

words: ~15k

important tags: falling in love, flirting, banter

notes: haven’t read this in a long time, but i’m pretty sure it was like a perfect little bucky-recovering-and-falling-in-love-with-clint-while-living-in-the-tower-fic. he learns archery!! pretty sure they also adopt a ferret or something???? good shit

smut: NO SMUT

Hoist a Black Flag by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k

important tags: pirate au

notes: ITS BASICALLY AN OFMD AU OKAY HOW CAN U NOT LOVE IT???

smut: yes, but skippable

Cupid’s Arrows by flawedamythyst

words: ~14k

important tags: office AU, valentine’s day

notes: clint dressed up as cupid, bad pick up lines, shenanigans. haven’t read this in quite a while, but i remember i enjoyed it A LOT a few years ago and re-read it multiple times!!

smut: NO SMUT

The Best Thing since a Double-Shot Expresso by sara_holmes

words: ~11k

important tags: coffee shop AU, misunderstandings, getting together

notes: friends to lovers final boss. they’ve been best friends (husbands) for years and literally live together, and it takes them an insane amount of jealousy and steve’s ass to finally get together. such a fun read, highly HIGHLY recommend

smut: NO SMUT

Habits of My Heart by Kangofu_CB

words: ~18k

important tags: Fuckbuddies to Lovers, no powers AU, grindr

notes: fuckbuddies to lovers with loads of pining will always be THE most realistic winterhawk depiction for me, sorry not sorry. this one’s extra fun bc steve and nat have been trying to set them up for months, but they’ve been already hooking up for months. it’s great.

smut: yes, but easily skippable.

In Which Peter Is Everyone’s Favourite Avenger by DestroyedConscience

words: ~25k

important tags: Twitter, everyone is gay, gen z humor

notes: look, this is an unfinished, non-winterhawk-centric twitter fic, but as a fellow winterhawk twitter fic author i just HAVE to recommend it. if u like this kind of thing, go check it out, it’s so fun :)

smut: NO SMUT

Look What The Cat Dragged In by flawedamythyst

words: 22k

important tags: Bucky Barnes is a cat lover, domestic fluff

notes: i haven’t read this in years, but i KNOW it was great. at this point just go check out amy’s account and read all of her winterhawk fics, she has over a hundred and they’re all great!! but this one has them co-parenting alpine, so it’s extra great!!

smut: NO SMUT

My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend

words: ~49k

important tags: soulmates au, single parent clint barton

notes: soulmate au plus kid fic guys, i repeat, SOULMATE AU PLUS KID FIC GUYS!!! BY DR GIRLFRIEND!!!! GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 21/22 this one was such a blast to read when it first came out.

smut: yes, but skippable

Chrome Plated Heart by dr_girlfriend

words: ~20k

important tags: pacific rim fusion

notes: i’ve never seen pacific rim and i still had a blast reading this one!! (she put a basic explanation for it somewhere in the story notes, so dw about it!!). it was SO nice to read a fic where they’re not heavily traumatised and just have a chill, easy getting together. really sweet stuff

smut: NO SMUT!!

Know When To Hold ‘Em by flawedamythyst

words: ~11k

important tags: exes to lovers, no powers au, cambling

notes: UGHHH i need more fics like this one, it’s so so SO good!! flashes back and forth to the time when they were first together and when they meet again and skjdghlksdhg my heart just hurts so much for both of them. (happy ending tho dw, clint’s just so sad in the present and it hurts my soul)

smut: yeah, the part in the present is basically just one big smut scene but it’s soOoOoO emotional and i always love me some emotional smut

Christmas in Colour by mariana_oconnor

words: ~12k

important tags: soulmates see in colour, christmas fluff

notes: SOULMATES SEE IN COLOUR !!!!! *swoons so hard she falls to the floor* top 3 best soulmates tropes i dont make the rules i love it so much. ESPECIALLY when it’s with a character like clint who usually has a colour he loves SO SO much. a christmas must read :)

smut: NO SMUT

Chaos By Another Name by shatteredhourglass

words: ~13k

important tags: dimension travel, time travel, friends to lovers

notes: DIMENSION-HOPPING TIME-TRAVEL ADVENTURE GUYS!!! why wouldn’t you wanna read it???

smut: yes

I Still Choose You (The Public Domain Remix) by mariana_oconnor

words: ~14k

important tags: soulmates at first kiss, fake/pretend relationship

notes: have a fic with two of the best tropes ever, you’re so very welcome. plus plus PLUS: demisexual bucky. as a demisexual/asexual/still trying to figure it out lesbian, i’m always ALWAYS here for any kind of ace spectrum winterhawk, so yeah.

smut: NO SMUT

the road rising up to meet me by veryrach

words: ~24k

important tags: pining, sexual reawakening, chaotic slutty clint barton

notes: MORE DEMISEXUAL BUCKY!!! AND HOT CLINT!!! no other words needed. read it.

smut: i’m so sorry but i can’t remember if it gets SMUTTY smutty. but there’s definitely a lot of sexual themes i mean look at the tags lmao

Showdown by shatteredhourglass

words: ~14k

important tags: fake/pretend relationship; fluff

notes: breaking my silence: fake dating might me my fav trope of all time. in this one they’re pretending to date for the sole purpose of annoying steve and tony and i think that’s the best thing ever.

smut: NO SMUT

Light the Spark by dr_girlfriend

words: ~26k

important tags: fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, enemies to friends to lovers

notes: aaaand the next fake dating fic >:) the enemies arc is like 0.2 seconds, blink and you miss it, but whoooo cares, we’re here for the fake dating & pining guys!!!

smut: yes, but you can skip it!

-10k words

Wine and Pine by feathers_and_cigarettes

words: 6k

Important tags: Touch-Starved, Fake Marriage, pining!clint

Notes: this is one of those fics i always come back to without realising and it always hits that spot. like i said, fake dating is my favorite trope, and MISSION fake dating???? i'm in heaven

smut: there’s quite a bit of smut, but it’s at the end and even if you stop reading after they kiss it’s really worth it.

Over Easy by Lissadiane

words: ~9k

important tags: hook up gone awry, awkwardly crashing the birth of a baby

notes: need y’all to know that this has one of my all time fav smut scenes, i kinda know it by heart. don’t quote me on that, this is our secret. this one’s just so so SO much fun, i’m having the time of my life every time i read it (which is at least like once a month)

smut: yes, and it’s kinda the best part, but everything else is so fun as well that i really wouldn’t wanna miss out on it

The Love You Deserve by flawedamythyst

words: ~8k

important tags: unhappy family holidays, homophobia, family issues, jewish bucky barnes

notes: another must-read christmas fic for me; clint goes home for christmas to an uncle of his or something but they all turn out to be homophobic assholes or something and then bucky shows up to save the day <3

smut: NO SMUT

what you really, really want by Noxnthea

words: ~8k

important tags: pining, misunderstandings

notes: *blurts out* THEYVE BEEN IN LOVE FOR AGES AND THEN WANDA HEXES THEM SO THEY THINK THEVE BEEN DATING FOR YEARS!!! this is SUCH an underrated fic, it doesn’t even have 200 kudos like wtf??? SHOW IT SOME LOVE!!!

smut: NO SMUT

The 300 Club by Noxnthea

words: ~10k

important tags: no powers au, scientist clint & bucky

notes: there aren’t enough scientist winterhawk AUs so HUGE THANKS noxnthea for feeding us. i will literally haunt you if you don’t read this one, ITS SO UNDERRATED!!! AND SO FUN!!

smut: NO SMUT

For Everything There is A Season by dr_girlfriend

words: ~9.7k

important tags: crack fic, secret service agent!bucky, small business owner!clint barton

notes: crack fics are always gold and this one especially, it’s such a ridiculous idea, how could you not love it? always a very fun read!

smut: NO SMUT

Background Noise by Reremouse

words: ~8k

important tags: modern au, deaf clint barton

notes: MILLENIAL BUCKY!!! clint is bucky’s upstairs neighbour and extremely loud bc he’s well… deaf. lol. and bucky’s a night shift worker which really isn’t a good combo on first thought. but on second thought, these are clint and bucky, so OBVIOUSLY they’re gonna make a great combo out of it. it’s fuckign amazing. plus bucky & sam friendship!! good shit guys, good shit.

smut: NO SMUT

you didn’t hear that by jedusaur

words: ~2.6k

important tags: roomates, eavesdropping

notes: super self-indulgent rec, i always read this one when i need some cheering up lmao it’s just so fun and they’re kinda nasty and UGH. love. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing. do with that what you want.

smut: yes. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing in every way ;)

one more time by squadrickchestopher

words: ~4k

important tags: touch starved, hurt clint barton

notes: i don’t even know why i love this one so much, but it holds SUCH a special place in my heart. it might be my undying love for touch starved!clint who finally gets his well-needed hugs by bucky. there’s also an amazing podfic by flowerparrish for it, make sure to give kudso to them both!!!

smut: NO SMUT

the salt on your lips by veryrach

words: ~9k

important tags: kissing, an absolutely ridiculous lack of communication

notes: exactly what the tags say. it’s a 5+1 as well, WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED IN LIFE???? 10/10. i remember waiting for months for the last few chapters and it was SO worth it!!

smut: NO SMUT

Love Potion No. 10 by Kangofu_CB

words: ~8k

important tags: love potion/spell, not actually unrequited love

notes: i won’t say anything about the story bc i don’t wanna spoiler it, but i’ll say that i re-read the second half of it at least once a month, it’s just THAT sweet.

smut: NO SMUT

There’s No ‘I’ In Denial by flawedamythyst

words: ~5k

important tags: truth spells

notes: clint gets hit by a magic truth gun and can’t lie anymore. such a fun & cute read every single time.

smut: NO SMUT

The Name of the Game by squadrickchestopher

words: ~6k

important tags: competition, trash talking, feelings realization

notes: this one’s just so so fun, it has allllllll the winterhawk banter anyone could ask for. and i always love me some competitive idiots in love

smut: NO SMUT

Full Barton by aw_writing_no

words: ~6k

important tags: no powers au, cop!bucky, human disaster clint

notes: what the tags say. clint embarrassing himself in front of bucky who enjoys it a bit too much gotta be one of my fav tropes.

smut: NO SMUT

one more little mistake by shatteredhourglass

words: ~3k

important tags: clint barton wears glasses, bucky barnes is horny for clint barton

notes: these tags are basically the entire fic lmaooo. it’s great, i love nothing more than HOT HOT HOT clint barton and bucky realising how hot he is

smut: almost lmao (they get interrupted while making out)

my hands no longer an afterthought by shatteredhourglass

words: ~3k

important tags: getting back together

notes: i have a sweet sweet SWEET spot for winterhawk getting back togethers if handled well, and this one handles it soo well.

smut: NO SMUT

Five Lies People Believe About Clint and Bucky by EVVS

words: ~1.5k

important tags: established relationship

notes: this is one of those fics i always go back to if i have a few minutes and need some (bitter)sweet fluff. it’s exactly what the title says, some lies are fun, some are painful, and all of them just hit that spot

smut: NO SMUT

My Sausage Brings Alll the Boys To The Yard by flawedamythyst

words: ~1.7k

important tags: bad flirting

notes: this one’s so stupid it probably shouldn’t be on here but i remember how i was reading this in class for the first time when i was still in school and i was almost pissing myself bc it made me laugh so hard. very fun, go read it >:(

smut: NO SMUT

bonus for the freaks:

Filthy Porn Fridays by squadrickchestopher

there’s 18 works so far, it’s smut smut smut aaaand - you guessed it - smut. if you wanna see the boys fuck nastily, this is your place to be.

(delicate tension is the best fic of the series, it’s actually a roadtrip AU and not just smut, highly highly recommend)

alrightyyy, i think that's it for now :) this took me quite some time so i'd appreciate some reblogs or whatever!! we need to spread some winterhawk love guys!!

all my love goes out to every author i mentioned here, and every other author who's ever written winterhawk. you guys are my heroes, idk what i'd do without you. literally ripping my heart into a thousand pieces and giving every single one of you a tiny part 💜

371 notes · View notes

rafesbabyg1rl · 6 months ago

Text

The Watcher ~ Part Three

Part One, Part Two

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Your parents work late on Friday nights, which you spend alone. Except you haven't been alone in a long time, not that you know of at least. Rafe has watched for years, he's very good at it. His idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when you catch him in your bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living. After an unexpected visit to Tannyhill, you stalker comes up with a plan to make you his. But, will you be able to execute it just as he planned?

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the plot. Strong & descriptive language, suggestive themes, death threat(?), manipulation, kidnapping (?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

Author Note: Part Three has arrived! I still am unsure if I like where the story is going, but we'll see. Also I'm getting so IMPATIENT and horny while writing this and it's literally killing me. Please share your thoughts about this part and ideas for future parts. Thank you all for the support on this story. I am very pleasantly surprised with how everyone has reacted to it. So, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

“Okay, you remember the plan, yeah? You know what you’re supposed to do?” Rafe speaks as you look out of the passenger window of his truck.

You turn back to face him before speaking. “Y-yeah I know.” You nod, turning back to look out of the window and at your house across the street from the parked truck. “I have to tell them…” You pause, getting choked up. “I have to tell them that I’m moving out.” You turn back to look at him, your eyes watery. “I can’t…they’re gonna know–”

Rafe clenches his fists around the steering wheel and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No, baby they’re not gonna know. Because you’re not gonna let them know, alright? And you sure as shit aren’t gonna try anything are you?”

You frantically shake your head, “No…no I’m not gonna try anything…’promise.” You pause. “It…it’s just…what if they don’t believe me? I can’t–I can’t tell them I’m moving out with someone I’ve never even mentioned to them.”

“Hey…hey, you’re an adult yeah? They can’t do shit baby. They don’t have a choice, you’re mine.” His words cause an icy shiver to roll down your spine. Though even you know that your parents aren’t going to protest you living with the richest, most successful man in the Outer Banks, besides from his father…which everyone has heard about. The saint turned murderer who died last year. Like father, like son, you think to yourself. The incident was all over the news, you’re surprised you didn’t recognize the Cameron son sooner, his face had to be everywhere when all that went down.

But why would your parents care, all you do is cost them more money. They’ve been trying to get you out of the house for months.

“Y-yeah…” You respond, looking back out the dark, tinted window towards your house. “I-I’m ready.” You put your hand on the door handle, waiting for him to unlock it so you can exit his truck.

“You have an hour. Don’t make me come inside.” Rafe’s hand moves over the driver door and he presses a button, causing your door to unlock with a click. You nod and exit the vehicle, cautiously walking across the street and towards your front door. Upon entering your home, you take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions in check. No matter how much you wish your parents would notice something is very wrong, you know that would only bite you in the ass. The best thing you can do is make sure this all goes according to plan.

“Mom?” You call out, slowly walking down the entry hallway. “Mom? Dad?” You try again, speaking more confidently this time.

“Yeah, in here!” You hear your mom call out from the living room. As you enter the room, you see your parents watching TV. Your mother with a drink in her hand, laid back on the couch with her legs crossed and your father reclined in the chair, a beer in his hand. You glance down at the floor beside the recliner and spot several empty beer cans. Great, just great.

“Hey…” You say sheepishly. “How’s the bar?”, you ask, more casually.

Your mom glances over at your father, assuming that since he hasn’t even turned his head away from the TV, she’s going to have to answer you. As she turns her head back to look at you, she sips on her drink. She licks her lips and clears her throat before drawing her attention to you. “It was fine”, she mutters your name before taking another sip of her drink. “Same as always. What’ve you been up to?” She asks, not even trying to pretend like she actually cares about what you have to say next.

As you open your mouth to speak, your father cuts you off; still not looking away from the TV. “Get a damn job yet? Or were you just out fucking off again, hm? You’re too goddamn old to be living under my roof for free. You don’t do shit. You’re gonna start paying your fucking dues.” He snaps, finishing off his beer before tossing it to the ground aside, clattering into the others. “I need a beer.” He mutters. Without hesitation you walk over to the kitchen. You open the fridge door, staring into it as you get lost in your thoughts for a moment, eyes immediately watering. You shouldn’t even be upset, it’s not like you expected anything more. But you did have the slightest hope that maybe they didn’t drink so much today and they’d actually be able to tell that something is terribly wrong.

Quickly you snap yourself out of your thoughts, grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading back into the living room, handing it to your dad. You take a few steps back, taking a breath to calm yourself. “I told you I–”, you start before your father interrupts you.

“You’re gonna ‘go back to school to get a good job’. Bull. Shit. y/n. Bullshit.”

You fight back the tears in your eyes. Even though you’re used to the drunken crap your father is constantly spewing, his words still always manage to get to you; especially now when you actually need your parents. After a moment, you move to face both parents, looking more at your mother; she’s easier to speak to.

“A-actually…” You start, looking down at your feet and fiddling with your fingers. “I wanted to tell you t-that I-I’m moving out…” You wait a few seconds to steady your breathing and let your words sink in before looking back up. Your father has turned in his chair to face you and your mother looked up at you from her spot on the couch.

“About damn time.” Your father speaks.

Your mother replies next, “Where?”

You look back at your feet, watching how they kick at the ground as you speak, “In…into Tannyhill. The Cameron's place.” You mumble, not wanting to look up, fearing that they’ll see right through you. Even though you know you’re just paranoid, there’s no way they’ll pay enough attention to you to notice something is wrong.

“Didn’t they move after what happened to Ward?” Your mother asks.

Your dad adds, “After Ward killed a shit ton of folks and then himself.”

You ignore your fathers words, looking up at your mother, only taking brief glances over at your father while you speak. “Uhh no, no…not all of them.” Your hand lightly scratches at the back of your head. “Rafe, the son,” you clarify, trying to seem as though you are telling a casual story; like you’re telling the truth. “Yeah, uh…he actually took over Cameron Development and he still lives in the house.”

“What the hell you doin’ with a Cameron?” Your mother questions sternly. Her attention is taken away from you as your father barks her name.

“Fucks’ it matter?” He speaks to her before looking over at you again. “He’s letting you move in? He’ll pay for your lazy ass, yeah?”

You look at your dad and give him a nod, watching as he takes another swig of his beer can as you mutter, “Y-yes.”

He swallows hard, pursing his lips. “Then go on, get outta here.” He exclaims before looking back to the TV as though nothing happened.

You answer your moms question from earlier, “Rafe…h-he’s a friend of mine. He said he’s got so much extra space and he can help me find a good job out on figure eight; y’know, hook me up with some people, I guess he put a word in for me or somethin’.” You lie, pleased with yourself as you manage to get out the last word without breaking character.

“S’long as you’re not costin’ us no more money.” She replies, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen to refill her glass of wine.

You stand there for a moment, before your dad speaks again, “And when you come crawling back, you ain’t stayin’ for free.”

You let out a small, broken sigh, “yeah”. You exit the living room, heading to your bedroom. As you pass by the kitchen you momentarily stop and speak to your mother who’s currently trying to open up a new bottle of wine. “I’m gonna pack a bag…I’m leaving tonight.”

You know the time is ticking, that you probably don’t have much of your hour left. You grab your biggest duffel bag from underneath your bed and start frantically filling it. It’s hard to pack though because, what are you supposed to bring to move in with your psycho stalker? You pack some hoodies and sweats, some of your baggiest jeans, oversized t-shirts, large pj pants, really just making sure all the clothes you packed were the least revealing things you could find. After all, you weren’t sure what was in store for you. And you sure as hell weren’t gonna make it that easy for him to get what he wants. You packed some personal hygiene products and toiletries, an extra pair of shoes, and whatever else you think you may need. Before walking out of your bedroom, you glance around and scan for anything you might’ve missed. You end up grabbing your favorite blanket and shoving it into your bag; something that might help give you comfort at your new home, something to keep the monsters out at night. And finally, you tuck your ‘sleeping’ pills into your bag. They’re the only thing that’s been able to help you sleep these past few weeks. And slowly your dosage continues to increase.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you shut your door behind you. You stand in the hallway, taking a deep breath which causes a tear to fall down your cheek. You wipe the tear and head back into your living room. You set down your bag and walk over to the couch, sitting beside your mom.

Turning to face her, you whisper, “I’m leaving now, mom.”

“Okay sweetie.” She nods, this really isn’t a big deal for her. She thinks you’re just moving out like a typical young adult. But you know the truth. You know, or rather you don’t know what the future has in store for you or when the next time you’ll be able to see your family again is; if he lets you see them again.

You lean in and give your mom a hug, she immediately hugs back seeing as you two never hug. You pray that this doesn’t raise any suspicion in her. When you stand up from the couch, you walk over to stand by your fathers chair. “Bye Dad, I’m leaving now.” You say, trying to keep your normal emotionless, cold tone with him.

“Yeah, okay, bye.” He waves you off, wanting you to move out of his view of the television.

You go and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder again. Before exiting the room and leaving, you turn back to your parents, “Bye, see you later.” You lie. Well, technically it’s not a lie because you aren’t even sure of the answer yourself.

As you walk out of the front door, you hear each of them mutter some form of a goodbye just before the door shuts behind you. You look up and glance across the street, seeing Rafe’s truck still sitting there parked; still running. As you slowly walk towards it, he rolls his darkly tinted window down just enough that you can see his eyes as they watch you intently. You’re hit with shivers that roll from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes as you walk around to the passenger side of his truck and open the back door, tossing your bag on the seats before climbing into the front passenger seat.

You can feel his searing vision on you as you buckle your seatbelt and proceed to stare silently out in front of yourself. He mutters your name, causing you to hesitantly turn to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He asks.

“Well clearly I’m here so…” You say, unsure of where your sarcastic attitude came from. You hope this isn’t enough to set him off. Judging by his ragged breath, the chances aren’t great.

Rafe just shakes his head, a small smirk forming on his face as he lets out a huff, “yeah…you’re here baby.” It’s hard to tell whether or not he’s pissed off or not. You curse his quickly transforming moods. He doesn’t say anything else before putting the truck into drive and spinning out of your neighborhood. The drive from the cut back to figure eight is dreadful and silent.

When you do finally reach Tannyhill and Rafe parks in the driveway, he’s the first to exit the vehicle as he grabs your duffle bag from the backseat, rounding the truck to open your door. You instinctively mumble a small ‘thank you’ to him, immediately feeling embarrassed before realizing that maybe being extra kind will make him go easier on you. All he does is chuckle in response as he walks behind you to his front door. When Rafe gets the door unlocked, he lets you walk inside first as he follows closely behind. He locks the door and leads you upstairs and down the hall. Reaching inside his pocket, Rafe pulls out another key which he uses to unlock a random hallway door. Once he gets it open, he enters the room and sets your bag down on the bed.

He turns back to look at you as you stand in the doorway. “This uh…” he scratches at the back of his buzzed head, appearing to be almost…nervous? “This is your room for the time being.” Rafe grins as he looks up at you. “Thought you’d be more comfortable in your own room for now.”

‘For now’, what the hell is that supposed to mean? You wonder, taking a step further inside the bedroom. You look around, but you don’t speak; you don’t know what you’d even say. You sit on the foot of the neatly made bed. He only stands in front of you, staring down, just watching you silently. Rafe is always doing that, watching.

“Rafe…?” You murmur, turning your head slightly in his direction but keeping your eyes rooted on the floor.

“Hm? What is it, baby?” Rafe’s brows further, his forehead slightly creasing.

“I…w-what happens now?” You ask as you use your right hand to scratch at your left forearm, trying to keep yourself mentally present.

Rafe steps closer to the bed, if you were to look up, you’d practically be face-to-face with his clothed cock. So you decide to spare the awkwardness of that and continue to stare at the ground below you.

“Well,” he speaks. Before continuing, Rafe brings his hand up and uses his thumb and pointer finger to grip into your chin. He slightly tugs upward, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “You’re gonna stay here with me. I know baby, I know it’s hard. But, you’ll have some time to adjust, alright?” You nod and he lets go of your chin, but immediately moves to take the empty space on the bed. He sits next to you and he places his hand on your knee. “Hey,” he speaks softly and you turn to look at him. “This is our future and I know it’s scary, but it’s gonna be okay. Yeah?”

Future, you think. ‘This is our future’, you try to allow his words to break through to you, but your mind won’t let this sink in. This, whatever this is, was not supposed to be your future. Though you’re not totally sure what was meant to be your future, you just know it isn’t him. You’re supposed to meet someone who you know now, is not a psycho stalker and actually have a choice in what happens to you.

God, maybe your parents were right. Which you never thought would happen. But, if you had listened to them and had done more with your life, who knows, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. But instead you pushed all responsibilities away, saving them for the ‘future’. You’ve spent your entire life waiting for something in your brain to switch and somehow make you capable of carrying responsibilities and do something with your life. And now, this is your punishment, it has to be. If you ever get out of this nightmare of a situation, you aren’t gonna sit around on your ass and wait for a handout anymore, you’re gonna change. But, that is only if you manage to escape from this hell.

“Okay, baby?” The man next to you speaks, his thumb lightly running over the fabric of your jeans. His voice pulls you out from your endless void of thoughts, bringing you right back into the present.

You respond, your voice shaky, “What do you want from me?” A salty, warm tear rolls out from the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “Baby, baby shhh, it’s okay. It’s alright. All I want is for us to be together, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” He says in a tone that seems to indicate that he might just actually be sincere. The more you try to figure this man out, the more confused you get. But, if he really does care about you, that’s something you might just be able to work with.

“B-but…you are hurting me.” You say hesitantly, worried to see how this will play out. Immediately, his already light touch on your knee lightens even more to the point he’s barely making contact.

“What? What do you mean? You’re okay.”

“No…I just wanna go home, please.” The last word comes out in more of a whisper than anything else. Rafe’s eyes squeeze shut and he shakes his head, standing up.

He begins to pace the room, you just follow him with his eyes. As Rafe paces, his fists repeatedly clench and unclench at his sides. Suddenly, he comes to a halt, turning to face you again. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Please…” You whimper in a pleading tone. Your voice full of emotion. He cocks his head to the side, amused as he watches you. Rafe takes a few steps closer, so he’s standing to the side of the bed once more.

“Baby, there’s nothing to be so scared of. We’re gonna be so good. Just…just trust me.” He says, getting impatient with having to repeat this to you constantly.

“But…I don’t want this, please just take me back home.” Rafe’s expression goes dark, his shoulders relax like he’s just let something go.

“Go home? To do what? Huh?! You don’t do shit. I’m saving you baby. I’m saving you from your sad, pathetic life. I’m giving you everything you’ll ever need, baby. So no, you cannot go ‘home’. This is your home.” The man’s voice is stronger, meaner than before. At this point you don’t have enough courage left in you to fight this. You just sniffle and nod, wiping your tears. “This is our home.”

As you sit there silently watching him but being careful not to make eye contact, he starts to unzip your duffel bag. You huff, “what, you gonna take the only things I have left now too?”

He sighs, looking at you. “No.” Rafe begins to sort through your things, taking it all out of the bag one by one. “Just makin’ sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.” He mumbles, not looking up from what he’s doing.

After he empties the contents of your bag out onto ‘your’ bed, he starts to go through it more carefully. You watch as he picks up a pair of your underwear, holding it up and looking at you. “What’s all this shit? You on your period or some shit? Thought that was earlier this month.” He huffs, tossing the item back down on the bed. He’s clearly frustrated by the fact that you purposely packed your ugliest and least revealing panties; which happen to be the ones you typically wear on your period. Which makes you think back to what he said, you realize he’s had to see you in your underwear often to know what kind you wear during a specific time of the month. You shiver.

Once he deems everything as safe, he puts it all back into the bag. Just as he picks up one of your hoodies, the bottle of your sleeping pills fall onto the bed. Rafe’s brows furrow and he picks up the bottle, reading the label. Once he identifies the content and the doseage, he makes a tsk sound. He slips the bottle into his pocket and looks back up at you. “Can’t leave you with those now can I?” Rafe finishes re-packing your bag.

“I-I need those…to sleep.” Your words cause him to chuckle, confusing you. You don’t understand what he could possibly find funny in this situation, but then again you aren’t a sociopathic stalker.

“Right.” He mumbles. “Nobody takes that much just to sleep.”

“Please, they…they help.” You aren’t lying. Your doctor put you onto some medication which you cannot pronounce, that almost immediately puts out your anxiety and helps you relax. The only thing is, you keep upping the dose, when really they worked just fine the first time. But, you like how they make you feel. And yeah, sometimes you might take them without reason, but only sometimes.

“I’m gonna hold onto them for a while baby. You’ll be fine.” He pauses before speaking again, this time with a slight smirk evident on his face, “I’m here if you need help sleeping.” He says cockily. “Yeah?” You don’t respond. You just stare at the floor.

After a few moments of silence, his stares were getting uncomfortable. “Can I just be alone, please? I just…I wanna try and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” You sigh.

“You haven’t eaten today.” He states.

“Yeah…I-I’m not hungry.” Being kidnapped and forced to completely unroot your life to live with an unknown man definitely takes some effect on you, such as erasing your appetite.

Rafe sighs and steps closer, sitting down next to you once more. “How do I know you aren’t gonna try anything?”

“I haven’t tried anything yet have I? I haven’t told anyone about you, a-and I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” You plead.

Rafe makes another tsk sound as he shakes his head. “What were you doing at the sheriff's office today, hm? What was that?”

“I…I-” You aren’t sure what to say. If you lie, he’ll know. But you’re too afraid to tell him what you had planned on doing down at the station.

“Don’t you ever try that again. Don’t even fucking think about trying it.” He pauses for a moment. Chuckling before he speaks again, “god, so stupid. You really thought they’d believe you? Over…over me?” He laughs.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” he grabs your thigh firmly, making you gasp. “You know I hate when you lie to me…so why do you keep doing it?” He asks, searching in your eyes for the answer. “You’re only sorry you got caught.” He squeezes tighter.

You groan at his grip on your leg and the ache it’s causing. “R-Rafe…that hurts. Please…y-you’re hurting me.” Your words are followed by a quick gasp and a tear running down your face.

Once Rafe’s eyes land on your tear, he lets go of your leg. “Shit, baby. I’m—I didn’t mean to.” Rafe moves his hand to rest comfortingly on your shoulder. Well, his idea of what a comforting hand is isn’t exactly comforting. But he doesn’t have much of an example to go off of.

Before you can speak, he stands up and exits the room. You hear the door lock, and your eyes squeeze shut. You let your head fall into your hands and you just start to let it all out. For hours you sit there, crying until there’s no tears left. You just keep waiting and waiting for him to come back; you figure he wouldn’t leave you completely alone without supervision on your first night here. Except he never does.

Eventually, you really do start to feel a bit tired. You lay down on the bed, on top of the covers. You use your pillow and your blanket from home. The smell of home still lingering on the items. Pulling the blanket over your head to feel safe, you eventually begin to fall asleep.

When you wake, you’re still tucked away into your safe place. After recollecting your thoughts that had become jumbled from sleep, you pull the blanket off of your head. You squint from the bright light that shines through the window. Once your eyes have adjusted, you take a moment to scan over your surroundings. The bedroom looks like that of a hotel room. Well, not like any hotel you’ve ever been to. The mansion is slightly more vintage and elegant than those of the typical kooks; it’s not as simple and modern. If you weren’t being held captive in it, you may even admire it.

As much as you’d love to stay curled up under your blanket. Nature calls and you can’t ignore it. You sit up from the bed and quietly step over to the door. Shit. The doors locked, you forgot.

“Hey!” You call out. “Rafe? Let me out!” Faintly, you can hear commotion from the floor below you. While you wait, you look around the room a bit more. There’s another door, you open it expecting it to be a closet, but it’s a bathroom. Wow, you definitely feel dumb now.

After taking care of things, you exit the bathroom. You jump back when you finally look up from your feet to see Rafe standing in the room.

“Goodmorning, baby.” He smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

You start walking towards the bed, sitting back down and covering your body with your blanket. All you do in response is shake your head.

“Hungry yet?” He asks, sitting at the foot of the bed and resting his hand on your calf, rubbing over it through your blanket.

You shake your head again.

Rafe sighs, “y’know I’d really appreciate some words?” He says softly.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” He tucks his lips in and nods a bit. “Suit yourself then. I’ll be back later, I guess. …Unless you don’t want me to go?” He asks hopefully.

“Am I supposed to just stay locked up in here all day?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“Well,” Rafe pauses to lick his lips before continuing. “You’re the one who I can’t trust.” He takes his hand off of your leg and stands up. “Just…just give it time baby, you’ll come around. I know you will.” It’s obvious that he’s not even sure about whether or not he’s trying to convince you or himself with his words.

Without another word, Rafe exits the room, locking the door. Again, you cover yourself with the blanket and let it engulf you. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re in your own bed at home.

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas, I just might include them in future parts. And there's not much I won't write!

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chaoticdean · 2 months ago

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I truly thought we went through this already but I just stumbled upon a post on a FB Destiel group where someone was asking if they could give constructive criticism to a fanfic author because they used “a lot of britishism” in a fic and that bothered OP.

As someone who’s neither a native English speaker nor a professional author… Please don’t do this? Like, I’m actually genuinely puzzled at the number of comments I saw under that post that thought it was an ok thing to do. The general fandom rule about constructive criticism is “unless author has directly stated they are ok with being given concrit, please refrain from giving it”. I thought it was a well-known rule at this point, but apparently not.

Even if you mean well. Even if your intention is to be nice. You don’t know how it’s gonna be received and perceived by the author. Do you really want to make them feel like shit because you thought your opinion mattered most than them sharing their work for free?

You have no idea how much strength it takes for someone to post a story they wrote for free on a free website so that you can read it on your free time. You have no idea of the struggles they might have gone through with their story. You have no idea who they are, and what that story means to them. Do not be a dick is literally the least you can do.

99% of non-native English speakers are taught British English in school. Hell, as a non-native English speaker, the only reason I write in mostly US English is because of how influenced I have been by the tv shows and music I’ve been listening to for two decades, but the basis of what I’ve learned academically are in British English. I was once told it was “clear I was Australian” because my characters were putting butter on their sandwiches, and even though I can laugh about it now, when I received this comment I remember feeling miserable and like I would never be as good of an author as anyone who has English as a first language.

You don’t know if the author is a native English speaker, and even if they are… You do realize America isn’t the center of the world, right? I’ve been told “well the show is an American tv show written by American writers, so if an author doesn’t write in American English, they are a BAD AUTHOR”. Exactly how entitled do you think you can be about something that’s given to you for free with no expectation? Click the goddamn X in the corner if a term you deem “wrong” bothers you that much, Stephanie.

#fandom #fandom talk #concrit #constructive criticism #fanfic #spn #Destiel

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wordpress-blaze-45468677 · 7 days ago

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The Worst Pittsburgh Pirate Offense of my Lifetime?

The Pittsburgh Pirates commenced May with successive series losses, recording an 0-7 start for the month, which stands as their worst performance to begin May since at least 1970. The Pirates opened the month with an 8-3 defeat against the Chicago Cubs and subsequently lost three consecutive games to the San Diego Padres, being swept in the series with a combined score of 15 to 5 and batting averages of .264 compared to .218. The downward trend persisted as the Pirates visited Busch Stadium to face the St. Louis Cardinals, where they were swept again in three games, with a cumulative run margin of 13 to 4. To date in May, the Pirates have been outscored 36 to 12 and have faced opponent batting averages of .277 compared to their own .183.

While preparing to write this analysis, I considered whether this might be the weakest Pirates offense I have experienced in my lifetime. I am now 37 years old and have been an avid Pirate fan since as early as I can remember which is around 2000. Upon examining historical data, it actually is.

For comparison, I noticed the 2010 season during which the Pittsburgh Pirates had a record of 54-105 with an offense that ranked in the bottom three in most categories. This particular season stood out, prompting further investigation. The team's performance, especially offensively, was notably poor. In 2010, the Pittsburgh Pirates' offense ranked 29th in team batting average at .242, 28th in OPS at .678, and 29th in runs scored with 587. Comparing this to the current year's statistics revealed a concerning trend. The Pirates' 2025 batting average is .219, and their OPS is .625, far worse than the worst Pirates team I've ever witnessed in my lifetime.

Among the nine starting batters in 2010 compared to 2025, Joey Bart has a batting average of .264 and an OPS of .764, compared to his 2010 counterpart, Ryan Doumit, who had a batting average of .251 and an OPS of .738. A rare occurrence where the 2025 batter outperformed the 2010 batter at the same position.

Enmanuel Valdez, the Pirates' first baseman in 2025, has a batting average of .209 and an OPS of .657, whereas Garrett Jones, his 2010 counterpart, had a batting average of .247 and an OPS of .720. At second base, 2025 starter Adam Frazier has a batting average of .229 and an OPS of .607, as opposed to Neil Walker's 2010 statistics of a batting average of .296 and an OPS of .811. K’Bryan Hayes, the 2025 third baseman and once perceived to be face-of-the-franchise, has a batting average of .254 and an OPS of .619, compared to Pedro Alvarez’s .256 batting average and .788 OPS.

The 2025 starting shortstop, Isiah Kiner-Falefa, has a batting average of .280, whereas Ronny Cedeno had a batting average of .256 in 2010; however, Kiner-Falefa's OPS is .663 compared to Cedeno’s .675.

The Leftfield spot shows perhaps the most disturbing differences, with Tommy Pham in 2025 hitting .183 with an OPS of .480, compared to Jose Tabata’s .299 batting average and .746 OPS in 2010. In centerfield, 2025 O’Neil Cruz has a batting average of .246, and Andrew McCutchen had a .286 average in 2010, but Cruz has a higher OPS at .861 compared to McCutchen's .814. Rightfield comparisons show Lastings Milledge in 2010 with a batting average of .236 and an OPS of .700, while Bryan Reynolds in 2025 has a batting average of .219 and an OPS of .632. Finally, since DH was not part of the National League in 2010, Delwin Young is considered for comparison. Young batted .236 with an OPS of .700, while 2025 DH Andrew McCutchen averages .257 with an OPS of .750.

PositionPlayer (2025)Batting Average (2025)OPS (2025)Player (2010)Batting Average (2010)OPS (2010)CatcherJoey Bart.264.764Ryan Doumit.251.738First BaseEnmanuel Valdez.209.657Garrett Jones.247.720Second BaseAdam Frazier.229.607Neil Walker.296.811Third BaseK'Bryan Hayes.254.619Pedro Alvarez.256.788ShortstopIsiah Kiner-Falefa.280.663Ronny Cedeno.256.675Left FieldTommy Pham.183.480Jose Tabata.299.746Center FieldO'Neil Cruz.246.861Andrew McCutchen.286.814Right FieldBryan Reynolds.219.632Lastings Milledge.236.700DHAndrew McCutchen.257.750Delwin Young.236.700

Upon reviewing the data presented, it is notable that Lastings Milledge, whose performance during his tenure in Pittsburgh has often been regarded as subpar, actually exceeds the performance of Bryan Reynolds, who is consistently recognized as one of the Pirates' leading hitters.

Of the 18 categories mentioned above, the 2025 Pirates offense exhibits proficiency in only six. It is noteworthy that while the 2025 Pirates offense is projected to have 27 shutouts, the 2010 offense was shut out only 15 times during the entire season.

After thorough investigation, I believe that the 2025 lineup is the worst Pittsburgh Pirate offense I've ever seen which inevitably led to the dismissal of Derek Shelton.

Source: The Worst Pittsburgh Pirate Offense of my Lifetime?

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problemduetest4life · 8 days ago

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You’ve ruined my life with your fics & I can’t even be mad because everything you’ve written is so amazing.

Your characterization of everyone is so spot on and your story’s are just so awesome to read. they are absolutely devastating.

I’ve read everything you’ve written and wish i could read a hundred more works by you. i was wondering what some of your favorite aftg fics were?

Thank you, holy shit, this made my day :') I aim to please and I aim to devastate, so this is great feedback

ALSO! YES! RECS! HOLD ON!

I read a LOT of Jean centric stuff, but also some of my favs are some rogue pairings, so buckle up...

This Time With Feeling by Ocean_Adjacent (WIP/170k multi-chap/Jerejean/pre-TSC canon): This is probably the fic I’ve re-read the most ever, it follows Jean joining the Trojans post TKM and the writing is just CHEFS KISS. TTWF follows three plots: the Trojans, the Foxes, and the Ravens. Chapters alternate btwn Jean's POV and different characters(OC's and canon characters alike). HIGHLIGHTS: Slowburn Jerejean, The College Experience™, backstories! layers! themes!, AND an octopus I have cried over.

The Later Parade by @hourafterhour (Oneshot/40k/Kevjean/Post-canon): AKA The Kevjean BIBLE! If you have not read this fic, you really should. It follows Jean as a pro-Exy player, including his journey with sexuality and KEVIN DAY BEING MESSY. HIGHLIGHTS: Obvious knowledge on sports/drafts by the author, Kevjean angst up the wazoo, Kevin's relationship with Exy/The Nest butting heads with Jean's, The Bisexual Jean Experience™, and DUPUIS!!!

Not Yours To Bleed by Coffeexandxangst (WIP/385k multi-chap/Andreil/Raven!Neil AU but in the pros): If you have wanted more insight into the gang/crime aspect of the AFTG, this is the fic for you (but mind the tags!) Some chapters will be so romantic and lovely and then BOOM! Suddenly it's a thriller and I'm clenching my cheeks in fear. HIGHLIGHTS: Side Jerejeanee, getting to hate on Kevin Day for free (which I only do bc I LOVE him), a morally ambiguous body guard, and PAIN PAIN PAIN!

it's semi-automatic by @wyverningx (WIP/38k multi-chap/Jerejean/Mafia AU): This fic follows Jean trying to take care of himself and Elodie which ofc get's him wrapped up with the Moriyamas and Jeremy, who is the head of his own organization. Despite some devastating details, it's a super fun fic. HIGHLIGHTS: Jean and Elodie sibling cuteness, Jeremy being one sexy mf and a dog named Lexapro. I would rec the Jerejean text fic ALSO by wyverning, but if you haven't read that, I'm assuming you live under a rock (IT'S SO GOOD! READ IT!!!)

Ailleurs by revengeandotherdrugs aka @keirametzbrassknuckles (WIP/45k multi-chap/Kevjean/AU + pre-canon): THIS FIC HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD! In an AU where Stuart Hatford took Jean in instead of the Moriyamas, alternating pov's between Kevin and Jean explore their relationship as Kevin and Riko travel through London for Exy Press Reasons. HIGHLIGHTS: Stuart Hatford being a Good Dad, Liverpudlians, angst CITY, and Kevjean as bumbling teenagers.

nothing to be kindle[d] by @poetic-ivy (Oneshot/8k/Kevallison/post-canon): Allison goes pro and is aiming to make the Olympic team. Kevin is also there. Friends with benefits but also friends with feelings for one another. HIGHLIGHTS: Banter/Flirting, Allison getting what she deserves, and some lovely freaky times.

Like Being Known by OfficialStarsandGutters (Oneshot/19k/Kevaaron/post-canon): Kevin suffers a head injury and doesn't remember who he is. Aaron offers to house him and take care of him while he recovers and they grow closer. HIGHLIGHTS: SO SOFT, Aaron the begrudging caretaker, Kevin being #difficult, and a wholesome conclusion

Already Gone by @nina-reads1804 (WIP/150k multi-chap/Andreil/post-canon): ANDREIL BREAKUP! YE BE WARNED! Andrew handles the inevitable of him and Neil moving apart after graduation by breaking up with him during his senior year. This fic follows Andrew in the pros, newly single and struggling. HIGHLIGHTS: Great Andrew and Aaron bonding, Patrick the Therapist, chaotic coping, and crying over sad Neil Josten.

Kintsugi by Zombiecowboy65 (Oneshot/18k/Jerejean/TSC canon): Cute, perfect, gorgeous Jerejean. Jeremy and Jean communication and healing that touches my soul. HIGHLIGHTS: Core four friendship, Jerejean first kiss and MAGNET RESCUE

OKAY SO MAYBE THIS IS A LOT! But here's my reasoning! I have friends who do not read things over 80k, but I also know people who really want a big ol fic to sink their teeth into. Lots of relationship representation in here as well, so hopefully something here is to your interest! Thank you again for the WONDERFUL ask! :)))

#YIPPEE YIPEEE #I love yapping about fics I love #aftg #all for the game #fic recs #jerejean #andreil #kevjean #kevallison #kevaaron #HEHEHE

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noforkingclue · 2 months ago

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Hey, ya. I have got a bucky Barnes x reader idea which I would like to share (i can't remember if I have already sent this in, but if I did, then I apologise) may i please request a Bucky Barnes x reader where they are fighting loki and Loki uses the dialogue "How will your friends have time for me, when they're so busy fighting you!" He then goes to use the chittari/mind stone sceptre on the reader, but bucky pushes the reader out of the way and now the reader has to fight a mind controlled bucky and try and break the mind control. Prehaps if you like the fight can awaken powers hidden within the reader.

Please of course feel free to edit as much as you want, sorry if this is too detailed. I hope you have a great day.

Note: requests are currently closed

So I didn't directly specify Loki in this, just that Bucky was under some sort of mind control. Hope that's ok and you like the fic!

Title: Trusting You

Warnings: choking, Bucky's self doubt about being the Winter Soldier

Of course you had heard all the stories about Him. Sam, and even Steve before he disappeared, had warned you about Him. Of course you had managed to see some of the footage and you would be lying if you had said that you weren’t scared.

The Winter Solider was really fucking terrifying.

But you wouldn’t have to deal with Him. No more trigger words to bring out the Winter Soldier. All you had to deal with was Bucky and he was interesting. Not in a bad way, definitely not, but it was strange finally meeting him. You were expecting someone different and not someone so… damaged.

The two of you got on surprisingly well. Once the initial awkward introductions were out of the way that is. You found him oddly charming, in his own weird way. You even tried to help him get to grips with the modern world. You could see the knowing looks Sam gave you which you pointedly ignored. No, you certainly did not have a crush on James ‘Bucky’ Barners.

Absolutely not.

No way.

No.

The two of you were just friends. That’s it. Friends.

Which made what you were doing right now all the more difficult.

“Fuck!”

You dodged out of the way of Bucky’s swing just in the nick of time. It was one thing seeing old footage of him like this and a completely different thing seeing it in the flesh. Sam swooped down at Bucky but this time it was Bucky that dodged. Sam lifted you into his arms and carried you to safety.

“I thought you said he was ok,” you panted, “that he wasn’t like this anymore.”

“He was,” said Sam, setting you down, “but that was before we ran into someone who could fucking alter people’s minds.”

The two of you looked over at Bucky.

“We can’t let this get out,” you said, “if the authorities found out-”

“It’ll be a shit show.”

“Yeah. Well, you know him better. What do we do?”

“You tried talking to him?”

You gave Sam a disbelieving look.

“I’m not a fucking shrink!” you hissed, “and you tried that and it didn’t work. Why do you think that I would have any luck?”

“Because it’s you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at Sam’s words. He was giving you that Look again. The knowing one that said far too much which you didn’t like.

“I don’t-”

You were cut off by Bucky taking another punch at you. Sam and you split into different directions and you rolled away. Bucky turned to you and you held your hands up.

“Buck, listen, it’s me-”

You jumped out of the way.

“This isn’t you,” you continued desperately, “this isn’t the you I know. I know you’re fighting this. I know you-”

Bucky’s metal hand suddenly curled around your throat. You were aware of Sam shouting your name and instinctively you slammed your fist against Bucky’s head. In a flash he let you go and you sunk to the floor, taking in large gulps of air. You heard Sam land next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You glanced up at Bucky and could see his eyes clear.

“Buck-”

Before you could finish your sentence Bucky practically ran away. You shut your eyes and rested your head against Sam’s chest.

“Fuck.”

It was days until you saw Bucky again. You knew he was avoiding you and it pissed you off (even though you understood why). You decided to wait up one night, nursing a cup of tea and waiting for him to come into the kitchen. When Bucky saw you sitting at the kitchen table he froze before turning to leave.

“Wait.”

Bucky froze, metal hand curling around the doorframe.

“We need to talk.” you said softly

“We don’t.”

“Please Bucky,” you said desperately, “I can’t stand this any more. Please, just talk to me.”

For a moment you thought that Bucky was going to leave. Then he sighed and turned around and sat down. For a few torturous seconds neither of you spoke then he said,

“I hurt you.”

“I had worse.”

Bucky glanced up at your bruised neck and quickly looked away again.

“All this has shown is that he will always be a part of me,” he said, “no matter how hard I try I will always be the Winter Soldier. I’m too dangerous to be around. If you hadn’t-”

He cut himself off and frowned.

“How did you stop me?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” you admitted, “Sam think that maybe I have some,” you waved a hand, “mutant power that got unlocked. But right now, that’s not important.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at your casual dismissal of your potential powers.

“What matters,” you continued, “is that this wasn’t you.”

“I-”

“Had your mind altered,” you said, “you were under mind control. It wasn’t you.”

Bucky sighed and looked down at his hands. He linked his fingers and grimaced at your words. You reached forward and grabbed his hand, grabbing his metal hand by coincidence. Bucky looked up, clearly shocked by the action and tried to pull away. Immediately you tightened your grip on it.

“I hurt you-” he started

“You didn’t,” you said, “not the person I know and I-” you felt your cheeks get hot and looked away before you revealed too much, “I have faith in and I trust.”

You and Bucky locked gazes and there was so much unsaid in that gaze. You smiled softly at him again and this time, Bucky returned it. Maybe, just maybe, things would begin moving in a more positive direction.

#fanfiction #marvel #request #reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.

"So..."

"Just go," she snips.

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.

"Dang it," you whisper.

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,

that needs to be fixed too.

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.

"And your name? Neighbour?"

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out.

“Is it just you over here?” He asks.

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy.

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?”

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway.

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list.

“Mom,” you say.

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?”

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly.

“Anyway...” he says.

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that.

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there.

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent.

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.”

You huff and push the mower over.

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house.

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes.

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says.

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away.

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner.

“You figure it out?” She asks.

“No,” you flop onto the couch.

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.”

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.”

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers.

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is.

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind.

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil.

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’.

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you.

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair.

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat.

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.”

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin.

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone.

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.”

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.”

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.”

His smile is just as charming as his introduction.

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america #au #silverfox au

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becausebuckley · 8 months ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 39!

yay more fics! guys i have to tell you this was an excellent reading week for me, so many brilliant fics!

two things: some of these fics aren't buddie but gen/a rare pair, but i figured i'd keep the title, since it applies to the majority of fics. i'll make sure it's clear which fics are for other ships! also, now that season 8 is airing, i've decided to keep the buddie fic rec list spoiler-free, and i'm setting up a season 8 rec list alongside it. this week's season 8 list can be found here!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

5 times buck and eddie thought they were on the same page +1 where they figured it out | WendyDarling95/@bi-buck-hi-eddie | 11.8k | E

"Ok but miscommunication trope where Eddie keeps trying to tell Buck he’s a werewolf and Buck thinks Eddie’s telling him he’s a furry. Buck would buy a fur suit absolutely" i'm genuinely not joking when i say that this fic was the highlight of my week. it's crack treated seriously in the absolute best way, i was howling (lol) while reading. brilliant <3

the book of love | colonoscopys/@colonoscopys | 8.1k | G

It was a pretty regular day. He had an eight hour shift the day before, slept in a little bit, ate dry toast and drank a black coffee before dropping Chris off at physical therapy for an hour. If he had known he was gonna die, he would have sprung for the hashbrowns in the freezer. time loop fic!! lovely lovely time loop fic!!

but you're holdin' me like water in your hands | TheGirlWithTheKite/@muddiedfoxglove | 11k | E

In which Eddie offers a helping hand when Buck's relationship starts to sour. (The Frogboiled Infideleddie Fic) frogboiled infideleddie?? yall the way i ran to this fic the second i saw it <3 so so so good

constant craving | Inell/@inell | 7.8k | E

Buck and Eddie have recently started dating, and it’s their third official date. While playing a game of pool, they make a little wager, and Buck gets to indulge a craving he’s had for years. i spent a lovely hour this morning catching up inell's recent fics and i highly recommend you do the same!! brilliant fics, both of the sweet and spicy variety <3

FREE MOUSTACHE RIDES | Killbothtwins | 5k | T

All is not well in Station 118. Gerrard is running the show, Christopher is gone, and, worst of all, Eddie has a mustache now. Somehow, it's only Buck who realizes how catastrophic this is. this is exactly the fic i needed to cheer me up earlier this week. so good, so funny!!

keep your brittle heart warm | Ink_Dancer | 8.8k | T

Buck convinces Eddie, notoriously a dog person, to adopt a cat. Buck then helps Eddie adjust to his new family member while the cat tries to meddle in their relationship. fics like this make me want to adopt a cat even more than i already do. so sweet, so cute, i love pinto bean <3

a little wisdom | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 8.6k | T

Christopher comes home from Texas and needs his wisdom teeth removed, which leads to a larger discussion on hurt and comfort and needs that Eddie doesn't see coming. the diaz boys <3 i love them so much and they're so so well-written here!!

the more it hurts, the less it shows | ummrys/@ummrys | 2.4k | M

Eddie finally hears the story of Dr Wells, and Buck finally understands the depth of what happened to him. so well-written and a great look at the whole dr wells thing!!

nothin' but a little shut eye | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.9k | G

Buck and Eddie accidentally nap together. And then keep napping together. buddie naps i love you so much <3 this is the softest cutest it's so good

put my heart inside your palms | markofalover/@markofalover| 3.1k | T

how an accidental pet name, a thoughtful dinner, and a shared shirt makes them get their shit together.. love is stored in the kitchen indeed <3 this is so so cute!

suddenly the only thing i saw was you | ipretendtobesane/@userbuddie | 8.2k | E

five times adriana diaz and may grant run into each other and the one time they show up together adriana/may?? the VISION holy shit. this is a brilliant fic and has probably my fav adriana diaz ever, it's just that good <3

#yall this one was hard i read so many good fics this week #i want to rec everything!!#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle's recs #fic rec list

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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get down on your knees and tell me you love me | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Six

Chapter Summary | There is something about Javier Peña that makes you bold, makes you want to prove to him that you're a woman, not the girl he used to know, and how better to prove in than getting down on your knees for him?

Chapter Warnings | A pretty tame one, all things considered. Public-ish oral sex (M), Javi talking you through sucking him off, inexperienced reader, cum eating, no use of y/n and some advancement of the plot.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3K

Authors Note | LET ME TELL YOU. THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY MIND SINCE THE CONCEPTION OF THE FIC. I hope you love it just as much as I do and that you're still enjoying the sprinkling of plot that comes along with it. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

Thank you to the incredible @perotovar for letting me use her beautiful gif for this chapter!

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

It’s Friday night and the bar is busy. You and Liv were lucky to get a table. It’s loud, full of patrons trying shouting orders at the bar, the smell of fried food wafting through the air, as well as the sound of disagreements at the jukebox over what song someone will play next, but its your happy place, always has been, especially when you’ve got a birds eye view straight across to Javier Peña, sat sipping beer with your dad.

“Are you going to look at me at all tonight?” Liv asks, mouth full of the fries she’d ordered for you both.

“Sorry,” You mumble, dragging your eyes away from Javi, who seems to be having a similarly hard time tearing his from you, “What were you saying?”

“I was trying to tell you,” She starts, picking up another fry to stuff into her mouth, “That I remembered something about that party.”

“What party?” You ask, picking up your own fry, biting half of it off into your mouth, dipping the other half into the pile of ketchup on the side of the plate.

“You remember calling me from work earlier in the week?” She asks, “The party at the house that got busted?” She smiles when there’s a flicker of recognition on your face, “Well, I remember that it was Vanessa that invited us, so,” She picks up another fry, “You’ll be so proud of me for this, I did some digging,” She looks pleased as punch, which makes you chuckle, “I spoke to her, and she said it was Tyler who hosted the party.”

“Tyler?” You ask, “As in, Tyler Johnson?”

“The one and only.”

You pick up another fry, the pile dwindling in front of you slowly. Tyler Johnson. Oldest son of Richard Johnson. Long-standing mayor of Laredo. His family had been in power in town for as long as anyone could remember. Tyler, raised to follow in his father’s footsteps had faltered, opting, much to the chagrin of his family, to choose to say no to college. As far as you knew, he didn’t really see much of his family, worked at the local manufacturing company and spent most of his free time hanging around outside of bars trying to chat women up. His younger brother, Garrett, having taken up the banner, currently deep into his bid to become the youngest mayor Laredo had ever seen.

“Why the hell was he doing hosting a party in an abandoned house?”

“I don’t know,” Liv shrugs, taking the last fry off the plate, “That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”

Unable to argue with her logic, you shrug, “You think he’s the kinda guy to get involved in that kind of shit?”

It’s confusing to you, because although he’s the perfect candidate for it, estranged family, always in the shadow of his younger brother, anytime you’d come across him, he’d seemed pretty straight-laced to you. Sure, he’d been drunk a few times, but never seemed like the kind of guy to take drugs, let alone be hoarding it in a house he didn’t even own. But then, Dylan hadn’t seemed to be the guy to take enough drugs to die of an overdose, so you suppose anything could be true in this case.

“The deadbeat son, disappointment to his family, who has never amounted to anything?” Liv chuckles, “Yeah, seems the type to me.”

Something doesn’t particularly seem to settle right about this for you, but that’s for next week. You shake your head a little, letting your eyes drift back over Liv’s shoulder to where Javi is sitting, looking straight back at you. When you meet his eyes, he throws a wink your way.

“What on earth are you staring at?!” Liv squeals, turning around to follow your eye line, finding Javi right there, “Oh.”

She turns back around to you, and you had wanted to try and keep it at least a little cool, but the wink he’s given you, paired with the smirk on his mouth, as heat flushing across your face, your bottom lip sucked between your bottom teeth, and your eyes on the grain of the table under your arms.

“Girl!” Liv reaches over, slapping your arm gently, “Have you fucked him?!”

“No!” You exclaimed, “Keep your voice down for crying out loud.”

“You’ve done something though, haven’t you?” She prods, smirk on her face, “I’m right aren’t I?”

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but smile, looking up at her as sheepishly as possible. Javi’s words ring in your ears, probably best we don’t tell anyone about this, but technically if she guesses, you haven’t told anyone.

“Shut up.” Is all you say, but there’s heat flushing all over you and a smile you can’t hide on your mouth.

“You lucky bitch!” She’s smiling so wide, squeezing at your arm, “Is he any good?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, shaking your head, “I don’t kiss and tell,” You sigh, chin resting on your palm as you look over the bar at him, currently locked in conversation with your dad about something, he looks so fucking good in his plaid shirt, arms rolled up to his elbows, “God, he’s so good looking, wish I could have five minutes with him.” You muse out loud.

Your eyes flit back to Liv, who has a devilish look on her face, “Say no more,” She smirks, “You want another beer? Perhaps you need the bathroom?”

You twig almost immediately, as she stands up, chair scraping, pulling the attention of people around who are looking at what the noise was. Shooting your eyes over to Javi, you note that your dad has already figured the noise was nothing, he’s gone back to talking to the side of Javi’s face that’s given to him, as he looks directly at you. You tilt your head toward the door, give him a smile and start walking towards it, as Liv makes a beeline to the bar.

You’ve not made it halfway down the hall when you feel a hand circling your wrist. Turning to the side, Javi is there at your side.

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He speaks softly, but even you know that there are too many eyes here.

You make it to the end of the hallway, faced with a choice, you push on the handle for the single disabled stall, finding it open, you pull Javi into it, closing the door, enjoying the ‘snick’ of the lock closing too.

“Now you can.” You smile, pressing your back up against the door.

Javi is pressed against you in no time, palms warm on your cheeks as he leans down, mouth slanting over yours, soft and warm, pulling away from you before you have the chance to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and deepen it by opening your mouth against his.

You’ve got a corner of your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, eyes looking up at him through lashes as his hand rests on your waist, “Javi?”

“Hmm?” He muses, eyes trailing up and down your front, stalling slightly where your shirt reveals your cleavage, before his brown orbs meet your own eyes.

“I think I want to suck your cock.”

His face is a picture you wish you could keep forever, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, shock written over every inch of him. His hand on your waist grips tightly, like he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

“Baby,” He coos, “We don’t have time.”

“You underestimate Liv’s ability to talk to my dad about utter nonsense.”

“What happened to keeping a secret?” He asks, eyebrow cocked, “Thought you were a good girl.”

“Technically I didn’t tell her,” You shrug, hands trailing up his chest to rest on his shoulders, “She guessed.”

“You really want to suck my cock in a bar bathroom?” He asks, leaning forward a little, his mouth just centimetres from your own, “Definitely not the good girl you make out to be, are you?”

“I just want to return the favour.” You shrug, memory flashing to earlier this week when he had you pinned against a brick wall with his hands down your trousers.

“Okay baby,” He relents, stepping back a little to turn you both, his back now against the door, “But we have to be quick.”

His palms press gently into your shoulders, watching with darkened eyes as you sink to your knees in front of him. Your hands rest on his belt as anxiety spreads through your stomach. Javi notices your pause, his hands holding onto your own at his waistband, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” He insists.

You shake your head, “No, I want to,” You respond, “I’ve just-” You trail off, lip back between your teeth, “Never done this before.”

Javi sucks in a deep breath, looking down at you at you. He cups your cheek, thumb rubbing across the skin underneath it, “God damn it baby,” He sighs, almost pained, “You can’t say stuff like that and then look at me with those eyes.”

It’s performative but you flutter your eyelashes at him, a small smile across your mouth, “Will you teach me?”

He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, but then his hands are moving to his belt, undoing it in front of your face. You can already see that he’s half-hard behind his jeans. Javi undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, and then motions with his head for you to do the rest.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, you shuffle back a little, pull them down his thighs. You can’t help but gasp when you pull them down enough to fry his cock, watching it bounce slightly in your face. He’s big. Almost like he can sense your trepidation, Javi is reaching down, squeezing your wrists in comfort.

“It’s okay, cariño,” He coos, “We’ll take it easy this time.”

He drags his hand down to grip at one of your hands, moving it to get you to grip onto the base of his cock with your fist.

“Move your hand up and down a little first,” He instructs, moving your hand with his own, “Just like that.”

Then he’s taking his hand away, letting you handle this on your own. You look up at him from your knees, smiling a little to yourself when he tips his head back slightly against the door, hips bucking gently into the movement of your hand.

Almost like he remembers he’s meant to be teaching you what to do, Javi looks down at you, his hand trailing to rest at the back of your head, “Open your mouth,” He says softly, batting your hand away from his cock, gripping it himself to guide it towards your open mouth, “Use your tongue a little,” He instructs, “Just on the tip for now.”

His voice is low and gravelly, which makes your pussy clench a little. You shift on your knees, trying to get some friction to relieve the ache you’re feeling, as you do as he says, using your tongue to lave attention to the tip of his cock, swirling it around but also stopping every now and again to give small kitten licks to the tip, preening to yourself when he lets out a low groan.

“Think you can take more, cariño?” Javi groans, hand clutching your chin so you’re looking at him, “Just wrap your lips around me and take me in as far as you can.”

You do as you’re told, sealing your lips around the head of his cock, flattening your tongue along the underside of him, before moving your mouth down as far as you can before he’s brushing against the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” He praises, “Good girl.”

The praise makes you swoon as you move your lips back to the tip and then back down again, looking up at him through your lashes, finding his head tipped back against the door, his chest heaving with heavy breathes, his mouth open, with a whispered ‘fuck’ breathed out as you move your mouth up and down a little faster.

“You’re doing so good for me,” His tone is heavy, lust-filled, and just like before, the praise goes right to your cunt, “Use your hand on the bit your mouth doesn’t reach.”

So you do, circle your hand around the base of his cock, pumping your hand up as your mouth moves down. Javi is more vocal, his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding your head to the movements he likes.

“So fucking good,” He breathes out above you, bucking his hips into you as you move down his length, “Gonna make me come, querida,” He warns, which only makes you double the efforts of your mouth on him, “Where do you want it?”

You pull of him now, still pumping his length with your hand as you look up at him through your lashes, “Where do you want it?” You ask, innocent as the day you were born.

“I don’t think you want what I want.” He says simply, breath panting as he thrusts into your palm.

“Try me, Peña.”

“Jesus, girl,” He chuckles a little, “Where’s that innocent, little thing gone?”

“I think I left her in an alley somewhere in town.”

He sucks in a breath, baring his teeth a little as he works as hard as he can to keep it together, towering above you.

“You want me to come in your mouth, huh?” The hand on the back of your head is now cradling your cheek, “That what you want?”

Instead of answering, all you do is stick your tongue out for him, guiding him back to rest on your tongue. You don’t do anything else though, just look up at him, waiting for him to give you what you want.

He does exactly what you want him to. Taking himself in his fist, he moves his hand up and down his length, furiously tugging himself until he’s moaning, head thrown back, with his cum aimed right onto your tongue, giving you every last drop. He looks down at you, pulling himself from your mouth. It’s a taste you’re not used to, musky, masculine and you’re sure distinctly Javi, but it’s not necessarily unpleasant, so you close your mouth and swallow everything he gave you whilst looking him dead in the eye.

You’re both breathing heavily, looking at each other until you start giggling, which sets Javi off chuckling as he helps you from the floor once he’s put himself right.

“Did you really leave your friend to entertain your dad so you could suck my dick in a public bathroom?” He asks, palm on the small of your back pressing you into his front, leaning down so his lips are close enough to your lips that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

“I think I did, yeah.” You chuckle breathlessly, letting him press his mouth to yours.

“Think you better go back in there and save her,” He says against your mouth, “But call me later, and I’ll help you with this.” His hand dragging down your front to cup your pussy through your shorts, where he knows you’ll be soaked.

“I’m counting on it.”

You don’t really think about leaving at different times until you spot Liv sitting in Javi’s old stool, talking to your dad.

“Well, there they are!” His voice booms when you get close enough to the table, “Where the hell have you been?”

Sucking your friends cock in the bathroom, dad. Is what you think.

“Oh, I was just asking Javi about something for work.” Is what you actually say.

“Well, it was lovely to catch up!” Liv says to your dad, slipping off the stool for Javi to sit back on, “But we’ve got very important girl gossip to catch up on.

Then she’s dragging you away, back to your table, where you spend the rest of the night talking, eyes drifting over to Javi, his own meeting yours when he can.

Yeah. You’re fucked.

Monday afternoon comes in a flurry, your boss poking her head from around her office door, catching your attention as she motions for you to come in and meet her. You swallow, a little nervous, because the piece you promised her would be done, is now blown wide open with the addition of Tyler Johnson hosting a party in a drug den. Picking up your notepad and pen, you resign yourself to a telling off for being slow as you settle into one of the chairs in her office.

“How’s the piece coming along?” She asks, making you swallow a little.

“Well,” You start, deciding to be honest, “It’s done with the information we have.”

“But?” She says, lifting an eyebrow up.

“I think there might be more to it,” You shrug, “I’ve been making some enquiries and I think I might be able to go deeper with it, if you’ll let me.”

She thinks for a moment, “Is this going deeper going to be illegal or dangerous?”

“No?” You ask, because right now it’s neither, but who knows how far the string you’re pulling might unravel.

“Then I say go for it,” She smiles a little, “I know you’ve been wanting something more challenging here, and if you think there’s something worth digging at then dig at it, but promise me if it takes a turn, you tell me?”

“I promise.”

“Well then, reporter, go get your story.”

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haguenauisforlovers · 3 months ago

Text

♡ kiss and make up in haguenau ♡

HAGUENAU IS FOR LOVERS A Webgott Valentine’s Week Fan Event Feb. 12 - Feb 18, 2025

It's happening!! D-11 to Haguenau Is for Lovers: A Webgott Valentine's Week Fan Event. Become the fujo WW2 wife and pull up a cuck chair, write your sick fics and create beloved shit posts in celebration of two haters who are obsessed with each other: Joe Liebgott x David Webster. (Thank you so much for the support so far! Mwah!)

Need a refresher about the event? Click ‘Keep Reading’ for rules, FAQs, and The Good Stuff. Or head over to our Navigation post.

What is it?

A week-long Valentine’s Webgott fan event where you can create beautiful and sick things for every tiny interaction between the two in the land of lovers, depression facial hair, and night patrols: WWII Haguenau. ‘Haguenau is for Lovers 2025’ starts on a Webgott Wednesday and will run from Feb. 12 - Feb 18, 2025. This fan event would like to thank this post by @randlemartin for being iconic, and for literally providing the title of it all.

EVENT DATES TO REMEMBER

Prompts poll open: Dec. 18, 2024

Prompts poll close: December 26, 2024

Prompts reveal: Dec. 28, 2025

Fan event start: Feb 12, 2025

Fan event end: Feb 18, 2025

FIC SUBMISSION DATES TO REMEMBER

AO3 Collection open for Submissions: Feb 12, 2024

Fic collection reveal: Feb 14, 2024

Fic collection close: Feb. 18, 2024

*This page will begin reblogging posts with @haguenauisforlovers mentioned, and/or posts tagged with #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday on Feb. 12, 2025.

FAQs

Who can join and what can they contribute?

All those who are part of Webgott nation near and far. This event will be hosted primarily on Tumblr so to participate, you must have a Tumblr account. AO3 accounts are optional but highly encouraged, especially if participating authors prefer to lock their fics for AO3 users only. This fan event is open to: - Fics - AMVs and edits - Fan Art - Webweaves and Moodboards - GIFs - Playlists - Meme nonsense - Historical research, baby

RULES AND GUIDELINES

1. Main Relationship: Joe Liebgott/David Webster This is a Webgott event. That’s what it’s all about, baby. 2. Inclusion of other Ships: Ships apart from Webgott are welcome as background/implied (OC/Canon, Big Ships, Rare pairs). examples: Fic: Baberoe sharing an excruciatingly tender moment in the background while Joe and Web glare at each other in a gay way. Text post/GIF sets: Other ships sharing Tender/Cute moments in Haguenau vs. Joe and Web at each other’s neck at Haguenau 3. Tracking and Reblogging: This page will reblog posts with @haguenauisforlovers mentioned, and/or posts with tagged with #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday 4. AI-generated content is not allowed. Romance is created not generated. All Webgott works found here will be organic and free-range. RPF is honest work for real, beautiful, flesh-and-blood sickos. 5. [Fic Specific] Can we do AUs? AUs can be incorporated in, but fics should be set primarily in Haguenau. example: Post-war is allowed but they have to be reminiscing about Haguenau. Modern AU but they’re thrown into a time machine and land right smack behind enemy lines. You get what we mean. 6. Zero-tolerance Policy: Don’t be a dick actually. :) Please be civil and respectful toward one another. There is a zero tolerance policy for posts and/or comments that contain personal attacks or attempts at doxxing. Comments/posts promoting homophobia/racism/ableism or Nazi glorification will be removed. Similarly, there is also a zero tolerance policy for disrespecting characters, pairings, or kinks. This is a YKINMK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink) zone.

*Unironic Webster haters, please sit this one out. That's First and Second Platoon’s job. Cobb, Martin, and IRL Malarkey signed up twice.

Will there be prompts?

Yes! You can find the prompt list here.

What is a prompt?

A thought starter, brain lube if you will. Prompts are there to 1) spark any ideas for your works, whether they’re edits, gif sets, text posts, or fics; 2) keep you on theme. You don’t have to use them as is, but they’re there to help you jumpstart an idea. e.g. Prompt: Spit Fic: Web finally spits out what he’s been wanting to tell Joe since day GIF Set: Side by side: Web open mouthed, Lieb spit compilation

Do I have to use every prompt for each day?

No, you don’t! You can choose one (1) of the prompts, or incorporate all four prompts if you’re a beautiful overachiever like that.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. Haguenau is for Lovers just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. 'Haguenau is for Lovers' just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day. <3

Why Haguenau?

Because it’s for LOVERS. Caress Band of Brothers episode 8 “The Last Patrol” in your hands and say a prayer to RPF. Anything can happen at the tailend of war, but especially falling in love. Get as snug as a bug, and let your Webgott imagination roam wild and free in war-torn Haguenau. But on a more serious note, Easy Company was stationed there during Valentine’s Day 1945. Historical accuracy, our collective beloved.

Any more questions?

The inbox is open! All questions will be answered as promptly as possible. If you’re submitting through anon, you can track your answered questions through the ASK TAG.

#egg on and fall in love with a coworker/a quasi nemesis #like follow reblog all appreciated ♡#we're sooooo close!!#signal boost helps us all ♡♡♡♡#band of brothers #webgott #joe liebgott #david webster

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xoxochb · 9 months ago

Note

Hey Prue!

I would like to request a Connor Stoll fic where he is super flirty with reader (maybe Hecate!reader if you have any ideas) but she acts uninterested and grumpy towards him even though she does like him in secret

Take your time and have an amazing day!! 🫶

⋆·˚ ༘ * nothing’s new

warnings: I swear but what’s new, rabid behavior pairing: connor stoll x daughter of hecate

i. cabin twenty + the dining pavilion

you almost started crying at the realization that connor stoll would not leave you alone until you had gotten up from your bed. ten minutes ago he took it upon himself to walk into cabin twenty without permission and rudely wake you from your peaceful slumber. he first knelt beside you and mumbled a ‘good morning, pretty’ to which you threw your blanket over your head to assure he wouldn’t see the pink hue adorning your face

when you didn’t respond to his good morning he sat beside you, sliding down the blanket and taking your head into his lap. after a while he got bored of that position and moved face-to-face with you. don’t be fooled because you still did not acknowledge his presence. although the close proximity made your body temperature increase millions of degrees. which is the time point at this current moment. you so badly wanted to remove the blanket and get ready for the day (even if the day was half over by now) but doing this would result in endless teasing from connor saying that he was the one who made you get up

but you were no hephaestus kid, really. the heat wasn’t something you could handle for so long. with a sigh, you opened your eyes, faced with connor creepily staring at you.

“hey, stoll” you whisper “do you have a staring problem or something?”

connor laughs. “only with pretty girls”

“what other pretty girl’s beds do you lay in?” you roll onto your back. connor settles for your side profile

“you’re the only pretty girl at camp”

you roll your eyes. “so are the aphrodite kids”

“they’re nothing compared to you”

you scoff and stand up at last. “I need to start my day, please leave”

he frowns. “I can’t watch?”

your brows furrow. “watch my morning routine? don’t you have something better to do than watch my morning routine?”

he ponders for a moment before shaking his head. you sigh and drag him off your bed by his wrists- which you were surprised to find he let you do. when you reach the cabin twenty door you open it and push him out. connor laughs. you chose to ignore his antics and begin your morning routine alone

ੈ✩‧₊˚

when you arrive at the dining pavilion a half an hour later (which was technically too early for lunch since it wouldn’t start for another half an hour but you wanted breakfast instead) you see connor stoll sitting lonely at the hecate cabin table. you settle on sitting across the table from him

“what’re you doing here, stoll? this is my cabins table and last time I checked it’s too early for lunch”

the son of hermes breaks into a large grin and slides a mug over to you. “I got you coffee since you missed breakfast”

you squint your eyes at him, suspicious that he might’ve tampered with your beverage but nonetheless you take a sip, surprised to taste a perfect cup of coffee. if connor wasn’t so infuriating you might’ve kissed him for this

“holy shit, that’s really good. how’d you remember how I take my coffee?”

connor shrugs. “I remember more about you than you think”

“like what?”

“like…” he looks around as if there would be answers hanging on a sign before returning his gaze to you “your favorite holiday is halloween! and you hate cherries with a passion. your favorite author is stephen king, scary movies don’t scare you, when you were five you thought the world was going to end during a minor heat wave, you have a rock collection- I’ve even added a few myself I think you’d like, you play piano in your free time, you hate mornings and anything christmas related, your biggest fear is spiders, and-”

“I think your point has been proven”

“okay…” connor slowly nods his head “do you remember anything about me?”

“you threw a tarantula at me once”

connor laughs when he recalls the memory. “that was pretty awesome. except for when you bit me”

“you threw a fucking spider at me what the hell else was I supposed to do?”

“scream like a normal person?”

“I was angry with you”

“doesn’t change the fact that you’re rabid”

“I am not rabid”

“you’re still pretty if that’s what you’re worried about”

you roll your eyes and take a last sip of your coffee before standing up to walk away, connor follows close behind

“where are you going?”

without stopping you say, “away from you”

“I love you too”

“go away!”

ii. the campfire + the infirmary

the second time today you almost cried was at the campfire when connor stoll wanted to make you a s’more. as abnormal as it sounds it was truly necessary. what angered you about this was how he wouldn’t burn the marshmallow- like you requested many times, the treat had to be black for you to eat it

“give me the damn stick, stoll!” you use your best attempt to grab the stick from connor’s grasp. which was unsuccessful

“I’m burning it, princess y/l/n. give me a minute”

“don’t call me that, weirdo”

“your wish is my command, queen y/n”

“I’m going to fucking hurt you”

as much as you hate when connor is right, in this moment you couldn’t care less. you took his arm holding the stick and dug your teeth into his skin, he yelps and drops the stick in the fire, disintegrating your marshmallow and the stick

“ow! what was that for?”

“you lost my marshmallow, you idiot. get me another!”

“you bit me! I’m wounded!”

“you’re barely bleeding

“but I am! I need a bandaid, princess” connor inspects the new bite mark on his skin, blood trickling down it.

you sigh and stand up, holding a hand out for the boy to take, which he does dramatically. “c’mon you baby, let’s get you a bandaid”

“aww, you care about me. I care about you too, even if you’re rabid”

“don’t make me regret this”

you pull him along to the infirmary, at the moment closed because most campers were in bed or at the campfire. to your luck connor knew how to pick a lock so you got in easily. you closed the door behind you and searched through the drawers until you found the collection of bandaids. you pick up the marvel pack and pull out a spider-man

“give me your arm”

connor allows you to take his arm in your hands and you place the spider-man bandaid over the bite mark (which by now had stopped bleeding)

“spider-man?! you remembered that he was my favorite superhero, I knew you liked me!”

“I just happen to have a good memory. your stupid superhero obsession unfortunately stuck with me”

“what else?” he asks eagerly

you roll your eyes and drop his arm. “we’re not doing this”

“you don’t want to admit that you like me”

“you’re an idiot”

“if you could put up with me for all these years I must not be that idiotic?”

no he is not. but you wouldn’t grant him the pleasure of knowing that

“it doesn’t matter”

you (attempt to) cross your arms but connor takes both your hands in his, holding them over his heart which you take notice beats rapidly

“It matters to me”

your thankful for the dark of the infirmary or connor would’ve teased you relentlessly for the pink hue once again adorning your cheeks

“why?” you whisper

“because I like you. and I don’t know if I could live knowing that you hate me”

you frown. almost hesitantly you place connor’s hands over your heart this time, beating equally as rapid. he smiles

“I don’t hate you”

“really?”

you nod. “I just like biting you”

“that’s kinky”

although he ruined the moment, this time you don’t feel like crying

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #pjo spoilers #connor stoll x y/n #connor stoll x you #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #pjo hoo toa

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lenoide · 1 year ago

Text

Grand Prix Elite Academy (4/10)

+18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!student, sewis, carlos x reader, collegue au | romance, smut, comedy, gossip, betray

Summary: Your life turns 180 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One College, designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the faculties, and try to win this year's Elite Cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes, all while befriending your eclectic classmates, join the wild parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Race to Greatness! Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fic set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program called WomenOne and have lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold. Becoming the outcast new girl is always challenging, especially when all of you live on one campus.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter > Chapter 4: The Kids Are Not Alright

As the morning sunlight streams through the grand staircases of the main building, you sit with your group of friends, placed on different steps, almost forming a circle as you chat with excitement and laughs with some racing gear and helmets scattered around them.

Other students pass you by, entering the large double doors to the main hallway entrance.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts from Lando's and Charles's Starbucks cups as they sip and joke around, discussing their latest racing strategies and sharing stories of their weekend adventures.

The sound of revving engines at the distant hum as you all wait for their morning classes or free practices to begin.

"That fucking bitch I'm going to cut her in half! And I will tear that wig off Britney's head," Leandra lets out.

A bald Nico is a funny visual.

"I'm not trying to play the devil's advocate here, but are we sure she was involved?" Max asks out loud.

Leandra rolls her eyes at him, as does Seb.

"Still, she can do no wrong under your eyes after all these years," Carlos points out.

"Just saying! Please don't kick me out of the group! I need friends." Max goes a little red with embarrassment.

"Calm down! No one is going to do that!" Charles quickly adds. There was a time when Max was the odd and unexpected link in the group; now, everyone is fond of him. "But, it's just facts, bro. She's the one who knew about Y/N being a sad virgin."

"THANK YOU CHARLES!" you add while he giggles.

"The knowing about Y/N being a sad virgin, I get it. Naya also knew the part about Y/N being broke and this year's "Charity Baby," but we all also knew that." Lewis joins in the fun.

"AW GUYS, YOU ARE SO SUPPORTIVE!" you interrupt them with murderous eyes.

Lewis holds his chuckles as he continues: "But the part of Y/N wanting Toto to deflower her, Naya wasn't there to witness her telling that to him." he points out.

"WHAT!?" you scream. At that part, you throw your arms in the air to everyone's amusement.

"Don't you remember?!" Mick says, amazed.

"Please, be joking." you start praying.

"He is not. We all heard your drunk ass asking Toto to fuck you."

"OH MY GOD!" At that moment, you want to get run over by the McLaren car roaring in the distance at the circuit track.

"If you want a life-changing first-time experience," Lando says. "I mean," he looks at his crotch and back at you, then winks. "I have cock to spare."

"Cock to spare," Leandra repeats, bursting out laughing. "How do you come up with this shit?!"

"How does that shit work with girls?! That's the real question," Carlos adds, laughing too.

"SERIOUSLY! THANK YOU GUYS!" you squeak, furiously red.

"Yes, but Nico was there. If Nico is there, Naya is there, and vice versa," Seb says, sounding extremely unhappy with Lewis.

He had remained quiet so far before he let it all out: "Didn't I tell you? Don't invite him! It doesn't matter how much Nico swears he has changed, he is always trouble!"

The couple starts to argue.

It's the first time you witness them acting other than being utterly in love with each other.

Lewis and Seb tend to get lost in each other's eyes for hours, feeling like the world is non-existent around them while sharing soft chats and sweet kisses around campus.

"Honey, I asked for your forgiveness times enough already. What else do you want me to do..." Lewis replies, getting exasperated with him.

"Well, now that you are friends with Nico again, why don't you go and ask him about it?! Ask Nico if he is the one behind the printed posters addressed to Y/N pinned all over the hallways! OH! And in that process, why don't you warn him to stay the fuck away from her!"

"Like that would work," Lewis says, sighing.

Seb then gets on his feet and suddenly climbs up the stairs in a rush, looking really mad. His short skirt sways in the wind, his boots' heels echo on the stairs, and his bag moves violently behind him as he opens the big double doors.

"Honey!" Lewis calls for him, gets fast on his feet, and goes after him.

You give them enough time before following their steps. You deeply care about Seb and want to make sure he is okay.

He is also your project partner in Christian's "Race Engineering" class, your first subject of today, and knowing how prickly of a professor Christian is, you want to make sure everything is fine.

You find the couple in the hub of the old library. Walking inside there feels like stepping into a time capsule.

A retro vibe wraps you as you step on the blue carpeting on the floor; a golden glow emanates from the large windows.

The shelves there are lined with worn, leather-bound books that seem to hold secrets and old stories, while vintage posters and track maps adorn the walls displaying the bygone eras of Motorracing.

This small library is always empty since the main one is way bigger, more stylish, and modern. People sometimes use this one to hook up, hiding among the tall bookshelves in the many corridors.

You catch them talking almost mouth-in-mouth. Seb is lean on a study desk, ass on it, legs hanging.

And Lewis is resting his hand on Sebastian's Aston green pleated mini skirt. Lewis's other hand caresses Seb's hair and cheek as he whispers soft things to his lips, like, "Nico doesn't mean shit to me. I love you. I will make it up for you. You are my rock. I need you by my side" you are able to hear him as you approach them.

Then the bell sounds, Lewis kisses Seb goodbye, grabs his helmet on the table next to Seb's legs, and gives you a warm smile on his way out while pulling up half of his racing suit on his way out.

"He is going to spend the entire day on track! My poor baby always ends up exhausted after that. I won't be able to join your study session tonight. I will be preparing his ice bath for when he returns." Seb tells you as he hops off the study table.

Seb is so dedicated to Lewis and is so adorable to witness. "All good with you two, then?" you ask shyly.

"Always, dear." Seb reassures you, sounding all happy now.

"I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You looked distressed for a minute. You know I care about you, right?"

"I know. You are a good friend, thank you." Seb squeezes you in his arms for a brief second on your way down back in the main hallway, and then he explains to you. "It's this Nico thing. He always tends to get under my skin. I hate throwing tantrums at Lewis like that, but I can't help it sometimes!"

"I get it, now. Hey! By the way, with all of this, I haven't been able to tell you yet how hot you look!"

"Thank you!" Seb twirls for you, grabbing your hand in the process.

"Your legs look unbelievable!" you add. "Fishy, fishy"

You two keep walking hand in hand until you reach the classroom's door. "I know, thanks! Lewis agrees with you. You know? He is in this phase now that I drive him crazy when I wear mini skirts. The other day, he was barely able to hold himself. He almost takes me raw at my desk in the student affairs office. He felt so hard under those pants. Mmm, delicious." Seb lets out a long sigh.

"Hey! Don't eat bread in front of the poor!" you complain, slightly jealous but in good faith.

"Oh, shit, I forgot about your virgin-ess! Sorry! I hope you find the cure soon." Seb jokes with you.

"I just need to convince Toto to supply me the injection to solve it!" you fool around.

"Slut!" Seb playfully tells you as you two grab your seats inside the classroom.

"Ough," Seb moans in a low voice for the fourth time, trying to make you lose it sitting next to you at Toto's class while the professor turns to face the screens again, his firm ass and muscular back in display for you two to enjoy the view.

"As you can see, class," he says, gesturing to the complex graphs and charts, "these simulations show the effects of different wing configurations on downforce and drag. The blue line represents the current setup, while the red line shows the potential gains we could achieve by modifying the wing's angle and curvature." His voice is calm and authoritative, but his hands move quickly and precisely as he uses a laser pointer to highlight key points on the screens.

Some of your classmates lean forward, their eyes fixed attentively, as they write notes on the complex data and ask questions about its implications for their racing strategies.

Toto asked the class to come up with an example by reading the intricacies of the data displayed on the screens in front of him to form a decision on a fictional course of a race.

"Shut it! You idiot, you will get us in trouble. I'm already standing on thin ice with him," you silence Seb, trying to keep your composure.

After what Mick told you, you haven't been able to focus the entire class nor look directly at Toto, fearing crossing his gaze, with your mind going back to that night, trying to puzzle all the shit you did under the alcohol influence.

Every time Seb moans for you in a low voice as Toto turns his back for something or moves suggestively, you struggle to hold your chuckles.

"Miss Y/LN, Miss Vettel, do you have anything you want to share with the class?" his deep, powerful voice addresses you.

You feel Toto's eyes set on you. His glasses slightly sliding on his appealing nose.

You go all pale, darting "Don't you even dare!" eyes to Seb.

"No, sir." you quickly reply.

"Miss Y/LN, why don't you come sit right here?" he commands you more than asks you, pulling a single chair and placing it in the middle of the room, at the front, near where he stands, in a place where everyone will notice your slightest move. "Since you appear to be on the moon this entire class, this is the best spot to get you back on track, and Vettel."

"Yes, professor?" Seb answers.

"Last warning, another distraction, and you go out."

Nico looks more than pleased that you two are getting scolded.

You have been avoiding going to your dorm all day long. You even tried to get transferred to another room at the Student Affairs front desk, but they informed you it wasn't an option since you were under no harm and because you are located in a dorm that belongs to the scholarship students housing program.

Then, why is Naya in there with you? It makes no sense; her parents are wealthy.

You close the entrance door, returning from the long study session you organized in the main library for the "Trackside PU" extracurricular, and you enter your dorm without making considerable noise, going straight to the kitchenette to place your tumbler inside the small dishwasher.

Naya is studying and writing notes on her iPad at the round dining table. There's a lot of tension in the air as you both become aware of the other's presence.

She's wearing reading glasses. You have never seen her with those before. She looks even hotter.

After a few minutes, you hear a clear "It wasn't me" that she lets out loud enough for you to listen.

You send her a look.

"Nico was inside my bedroom when you came in here. He heard it all. I told him not to do it," Naya explains.

"Sure"

"It's the truth!" She holds your gaze. "Torger is also mad at him for doing that, but he doesn't know how to address the matter with you yet."

"Can't Toto speak for himself, or does he pay you to act as his messenger?" That sounded harsher than you expected, but she pushed you to react like that.

Naya gives you no comeback. "Now that I cleared things, I'm going to bed. I had a long day," Naya says while stretching. Good night," she tells you as you look at her short grey skirt and Mercedes' blazer uniform. She is looking on point but with her tie loosened. Then you remember, you still have no faculty.

"You tell me."

"Just ignore her! Naya hates that, not feeling relevant enough. Maybe just try to move on." Lea advises you while attempting to remain empathic but being honest.

As you all condition in the sleek, high-tech training center, pushing yourselves to the limit, your sweat-drenched bodies showing your intense workouts.

The sounds of pounding music and clinking weights fill the air as you all tackle your individual routines.

Lewis grunts with effort as he lifts the massive dumbbells, his piercing gaze focused on the weight above him.

Sebastian, meanwhile, is on the stationary bike, his powerful legs pumping away as he sprints through a virtual reality course.

Lea, ever the showgirl, is working on her agility and flexibility. She leaps and spins through gymnastics-inspired exercises, exchanging suggestive looks with the trainer she banged at Lewis' birthday party.

"What if Nico tries to blackmail me?!" you ask the trio as you go all cheeta on the treadmill. "He has the photos." you sound way too overstressed. "I fucked it big time! I'm so losing my scholarship due to all this! I shouldn't have gotten drunk! I'm going to disappoint my dad!" you struggle to speak, tears running down your face as you fully panic at the high-end training facility.

Not even a week has passed by since the incident, and you have been receiving lots of DMs on your GPEA app of guys offering to deflower you and a couple of nasty dick pics that you had to flag and report.

"It's not coming to that. We have your back!" Seb reassures you.

"It's best if you speak with Toto about it. It's making you feel miserable," Lewis says. "Niki is the only one who puts Nico in place. Toto could talk to Niki to make him stop the gaslighting. And also, Toto can deal with Naya's antics."

"Maybe she didn't do it herself, but I doubt she feels bad for it. She lets no one get near her precious Torger," Lea adds and imitates the way Naya says Toto's name with her accent and all.

"Just remain cautious around her, please," Seb asks you.

That night, you have the most bizarre dream.

"You're a virgin!" Massi screams at you, his voice dripping with condescension. "How can we expect you to be a top-notch driver when you don't even know the thrill of passion?"

The room erupts into laughs and snorts. All your classmates go into a chorus of mocking jeers. "Virgin! Leave!" they chant, waving their hands in ridicule.

Before you can protest or defend yourself, Massi slams his fist on the table, and you feel yourself get dragged out of the GPEA.

"TOTO!" You try to reach for him as everyone laughs and points at you in the hallways.

Then it morphs to visuals of Toto's strong hands pressuring your hips, pulling your skirt up, and roughly fucking you against his desk.

Your bodies moving in a fast and desperate rhythm, throwing papers, pencils, and stuff all over the lecture hall floor, your moans and his grunts echoing in the empty room, skin slapping against skin hard, he going deeper inside you, pulling your hair, forcing you to arch your back.

You wake up with a cold sweat and wet panties, feeling disoriented, scared, and horny at the same time.

You rub your eyes, trying to shake off the vivid memory of the crazy dream that had just left you.

You get off the bed.

You lace up your running shoes and step onto the misty veil that shrouds the campus racing track surrounded by the woods. It's early morning, and the skies are still dark. The air feels crisp and cold.

You went out for a jog because you could not sleep a minute more after having those crazy dreams about you getting expelled from the academy and that triple x with Toto.

You set off briskly, your footsteps echoing off the asphalt as you weave through the deserted track.

The sounds of nature gradually replaced the silence as the skies became washed blue, preparing to welcome the sun.

There's nothing that motivates you like hate. You feel now a rage to shut their mouths, to show them.

You don't notice how hard you are running till tiny gravel debris starts peeling off the track under your tracking shoes, and you feel your legs tensing in your black sporty booty shorts.

At the same time, your iPhone bounces violently on your arm holder, and your headphones are about to fly out of your ears.

You drop yourself out of breath on the grass next to the chicane, exhausted and unable to move further. The perfectly maintained green grass feels cold and wet against your ass.

You are struggling to catch your breath, and rage tears are coming out of your eyes. Your strong, fast strides left most of your fury leave of your body.

"You good?" you hear a deep voice from a distance.

OH FUCK! NOT NOW!

You feel another panic attack coming your way and start bracing for impact, shrinking.

"Yes, it's nothing," you quickly reply, struggling to talk. You sense an instant and desperate urge to keep running even if you feel about to puke just to avoid Toto right now.

"So, you casually hyperventilate on cold mornings?" Toto asks you, approaching you, arching an eyebrow.

He calmly keeps jogging till he closes the gap between you, now able to observe your face and features. You look like a distressed mess.

So Toto is an early bird?

You don't notice the tears falling from your eyes until they blur your vision, and your body starts shivering under the cold breeze, running out of warmth.

Toto unzips his sports jacket and offers it to you, grabbing your attention.

You instantly are about to reject it, but he knows it beforehand and tells you, "Take it," before you can even wave your hand.

It sounds more like an instruction.

"I think I know the reason behind those tears, and I'm deeply sorry for the situation. I heard the gossip. It's a small campus." Toto drops himself on the grass beside you, bending his knees. The muscles in his toned legs look so fine.

Before he explains, "Nico is a highly competitive and strong-willed student. He plans on graduating from here with a deal and a seat on an F1 team secured. He has this unhealthy way of dealing with those he considers threats."

Toto notices you shaking your head.

"How am I a threat? No one even wants me on their faculty, puff" you laugh it off.

"Nico knows you got here because there's something special in you. And I believe so, too," Toto replies, encouraging you.

You give Toto an "Are you kidding me?!" look.

He smiles brightly at your reaction, with his gorgeous teeth showing. "I'm rooting for you!" he adds.

"The one who called me a small-minded quitter or that I had no mindset, how was it? I don't recall exactly."

Toto rolls his eyes at the pettiness. "Anyway, Nico likes mind games, that's all. But that mixture makes him a ruthless fighter and a true champion. He has that fire! Nothing gets in his way. Not even Lewis' raw talent or Naya's strategic mega-mind."

"...And also make him an awful human being!" you add in a funny voice, full of dislike.

Toto tries to remain diplomatic, so he doesn't give you an answer to that.

"So that's what Nico wants? To play his games with me and watch me fail? Sorry, but I'm not giving him or you all the pleasure."

"Did I truly offended you that much? With just some words and facts, mostly facts." Toto asks you, a bit skeptical.

"You made it personal. You threw my mom's passing as a low punch, basically."

"Wasn't my intention you perceived it like that. I get what you went through more than you imagine."

He sounds sincere.

"Just so you know, I didn't give up my dream. I choose to help my father achieve his. You judged me way too soon. I do have a hunger to win and push for more, but I need a chance to do so."

"Is that so?! Was I wrong, then?"

"Yes."

"...And?"

"I think you should apologize."

"To you? What for?"

"Didn't you listen to a word of what I said?!" you let out. Shit! You went too far again. "...sir?"

"I find you so intriguing. You feel the need to add a sir to address me when, almost a week ago, you wanted me to fuck you right there, and now you are fighting me when I try to look after you. What's on that head of yours?"

"About what I said that night at Lewis' birthday party, I was..." You are now totally red.

"...You were completely drunk. I would never accept you that invite, not under that state."

"So all good?"

"All good."

"Puff, great." You look relieved.

Wait, under that state... So... Is a yes when sober?!

"You know, most people get burned falling into Nico's games," Toto warns you.

"I'm not most people." You hold his gaze.

Toto looks at you in a way you can't read as he sees the fire burning in your eyes, your rage on display, and your hunger to show something.

Your eyes wander to his lips. You can't help it. He notices this and slowly leans towards you, closing the gap between you as if a magnetic force pulled you closer.

As he is near your mouth, he whispers to your lips. You feel his breath brushing your skin. "Is that all you can jog?! You are not even halfway through the circuit. If you want to put people in shame, you better jack on," Toto teases you before getting on his feet.

"Eat my dust." You follow him and start jogging faster than him, passing him by.

You sense his eyes going all over your body as he enjoys the view of a sweaty you in those tiny booty shorts, ass, and hips swaying around meters in front of him.

"Y/N!"

You turn around to see Lance running your way, crossing the gardens.

"Hi, Sir Lancelot!" you offer him your hand after stopping your scooter.

"Ma'lady," he kisses it, greeting you. "All better now?"

"Slightly, yeah," you let out a sigh.

"Since you have been all stressed out lately, I thought inviting you to decompress at our Bonfire Night the following weekend would be nice. I hope you can join us."

"Sounds excellent, but what's a Bonfire Night, and who is "us"?"

"I always have to remember you are new around here! It's like talking with a baby! Always in need of explanation," Lance says.

He is such a sweetie but terrible with words.

"Every year, my dad hosts a bonfire party at the beach for friends and family, like many of our neighbors on that night. We spend the entire evening there, having the best time, eating, dancing, and drinking until sunrise. It's at our house in St. Tropez!"

"Oh, it sounds so cool!"

"The guys are coming, Charles, Yuki, Pippa, Lea, Sewis. So what do you say? We leave next Saturday at 4 p.m. on my dad's yacht at the harbor here."

"Count me in!"

"So, I told Lance I'm coming! I had no idea the rich did that bonfire thing-ritual every year."

"It's a tradition! We have many," Charles corrects you while trying to assemble a sandwich, smashing mayo on the bread with a knife. "I'm glad you are in the mood to join us! You do need it."

"Give me! What you are trying to do is just sad." You wash your hands before grabbing ingredients and starting to prepare a decent Saturday morning breakfast.

"Can I have one? Please!" Lea smells and sees you perform magic in the pristine kitchenette at their dorm, handling bacon, avocado, eggs, pepper, olive oil, and toast bread like a pro.

"Coming right your way!" you slide a grilled sandwich on each of the three plates.

"It's like the Upper East Siders' going to the Hamptons to act even richer near water, but in this case, it's in our mansions by the beach at St. Tropez," Charles says while biting the perfectly made sandwich and making pleasure gestures.

As Lea almost finishes hers, she tells you. "Feel like joining me today? I'm going to buy my outfits for the bonfire night. I would love a second opinion."

"I would love to, but I promised my dad I would visit him and Diesel."

"Who?" Charles asks.

You pull out your phone to show them pictures of your dog.

Massive squeals and aws come out of their lips.

"I need to meet him!" Lea says, "We could go to your dad's after shopping!"

After spending hours going from shop to shop and stopping for a well-needed boba, you arrive at your family's components store, and you two wait for your dad to join you.

"Could you please stop playing with the labeler?" you ask Lea, amused and almost laughing as she goes all over the shop, holding the labeler gun in her hands, nearly James Bond-style, tagging random stuff.

"But I love it! Beep, beep," Lea says as she presses the button and throws more product labels.

"Hey! Don't dare to label Diesel!" you warn her as she aims it in his direction.

"Never. Besides, he would be priceless, right? You little, sweet, furry baby!" she bends to pat Diesel and says with the most ridiculous voice.

Diesel quickly turns his head your way when he hears his name, bandana swinging in the air. He then runs like crazy to the doors as he smells your dad approaching. He goes all nuts as your dad enters the store, then runs to push his bowl with his nose, knowing it's lunchtime.

"Dad!" you give him the biggest hug as he pulls you off the ground in his arms.

"Our world champion is in the house! Hi, baby, how are you? We missed you."

"Splendid!" you lie, after almost having three panic attacks in just one week. "Dad, I have so much to tell you! That campus is to die for!"

Let's better not mention the parties, the nasty gossip, all the alcohol consumption, and the drugs.

"Hi, Mr. Y/LN. It's nice meeting you, sir. I'm Leandra de Vries," She approaches you, returning the labeler to the counter.

Your dad offers her a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Leandra. You are in great luck today! I made my signature lasagna for lunch. It's Y/N's favorite!"

"YES!" you throw a fist in the air, already tasting the flavors in your mind, all excited.

"Oh great, I love Italian!" Lea says.

"Let's go upstairs, girls, lunch is waiting. Come on, Diesel, come here, let's go!"

Diesel goes first on the stairs. He used to be scared of stairs, so he takes his time climbing them before entering your small loft on top of the store.

"This is where I live, welcome." You receive Lea inside and give her the tour. It takes little time.

"I had a closet about this size. It's cute and cozy in here. I like it," Lea says, bouncing on the sofa before taking her time to look around at the pictures you have on a shelf. "She's your mom, right? You look like her. She is beautiful."

"Yes, thank you, that's her, the one and only. God, I wish she was here to see all of this."

"She is so proud of you, and she is watching it," your dad says, gesturing with a finger to the sky before returning to serve the dishes.

You three spend a great time chatting up and filling your stomachs with delicious food and some wine.

On the ride back to campus at night, Lea asked her driver to pick you up, she jokes with you in the backseat of the luxurious car.

"You forgot to mention your dad was hot and single!"

"Girl..." you look straight at her, smirking.

"I already love you like a daughter..." Lea teases you.

A hysterical laugh escapes your lips. "Please don't!"

"I'm joking, I'm joking," she bumps your arm softly with her fist. "I have limits. I would never! You know, it's just my dark humor," she tells you.

"I live for your dark humor."

The highlight of your week is that letter from Williams offering you a place on their faculty, which you immediately accept.

You can't believe you are going to use the same facilities Senna did during his time here.

You call your dad full of excitement!

"Well, let's get ready. The chauffeur is picking us up at 3:00 p.m." Lea rushes you two.

"Understood, thanks. It's a really exciting day!" you let out, all happy.

"Oh, Charles is the most excited!" Lea throws him a dirty look.

"Okay..." you look back and forth between them. "What's the tea?!" You instantly ask, watching the interaction.

"He is Lance's aunt's lover."

"No shit!" your eyebrows go to the roof.

"I... I... WAS... we don't do that anymore." Charles quickly adds, starting to pack his things in his duffel bag.

"Come on! You always end up fucking no matter what! He always says that," She looks incredulous at him. "That's a cute duffel!" she points to your purple packed bag.

"Not this time!" Charles sounds so sure.

"Let's bet! One on, he gets no action tonight. Two on she will suck the collagen out of him."

"Show me your outfit for tonight! You asked me to help you with your makeup, right?"

"YES!"

"You can't seriously be wearing that! Whose swimsuit is it? Your grandma's?!" Lea looks you up as you exit her bathroom in your bathing suit with the dress you are to wear on top hanging in your left arm.

"Why?!" You thought you looked fine. "It's Victoria's Secret!"

"It's huge! And ew!"

"No way!" You look at your reflection in the large mirror. You are wearing a two-piece electric blue bikini with a twist-front top and matching boy short bikini bottoms that cover you up to your belly.

"Also, you need to moisturize that skin properly. It's looking a bit dry." She handles you some jars with creams.

"Really?! Oh thanks"

"You always give me no time!" She goes inside her closet. "I'm again pulling a miracle!"

"Fairy godmother, please help me!" you beg, now getting self-conscious while applying the cream to your legs and arms.

Be careful with what you wish for.

"Are you serious with this, Lea?! Why do you insist on having my ass on full display every time!"

"Because it makes you look so hot! That high-cut V-shape is so flattering on you! Besides, all cheeky thong bikinis are so sexy!"

"For sure, one of my titties is flying out of here at some point," you say as you fix your top to hold the girls in place better.

"Your skin looks so shiny and fresh now," she says, and you agree. "You look so fucking hot!"

The two-piece monochromatic green strap bikini Leandra gave you has a tie knot front and cutout design, revealing a bit of extra skin up there. It matches the high-cut leg and cheeky back bottom that accentuates the best out of your curves; the high-waisted Brazilian thong is very revealing.

"I trust you fully, okay? Thank you," you say, feeling confident with yourself now; the workout routine you have been under is showing.

"Carlos is going to get rocket hard when he sees you!" Lea lets out, all excited.

"Shut up! He is going, too?" you squeal, eager. "Lance didn't mention him."

"Carlos Sr. owns the house next door. Carlos and all his hot Spaniard cousins and friends will be there like every year. I'm almost 100 percent sure he will try to hook up with you tonight. I manifest it. It's in the air."

You look at yourself in the mirror one last time and from all angles.

You look and feel good, and you hope Lea is right. You want some action in your life.

You observe in awe the majestic, three-story-high yacht that's way bigger than your house, with its gleaming white hull and gleaming chrome railings sparkling in the afternoon light.

After passing the security check, you board with your friends and start searching for Lance inside among the guests who have already arrived.

A luxurious Mercedes car pulls over, and a hot, tall man descends on the dock and boards the yacht with an air of confidence and sophistication. He is wearing a light linen shirt, blue swim trunks, sunglasses, and espadrilles men's shoes.

All the wealthy elites are wearing their finest beach attire, diamonds and pearls glinting in the sunlight.

Lance is inside the ship, standing beside his stunning mother and billionaire dad in the main salon, which has comfortable seating areas where guests can mingle and socialize over champagne and canapés. The yacht's interior is opulent, with lavish furnishings and sparkling chandeliers.

After chatting for a minute, he lets you know he has to stay there to welcome all his guests but that Lewis and Seb are on the upper deck.

So you all choose to go hang out with them and take in the breathtaking views of the Mediterranean Sea.

The waiter offering the cocktails around blocks your view of Toto boarding the ship as you grab one of the glasses.

Then you turn your back in his direction, quickly catching Charles's step. You finish climbing the stairs just as Lawrence welcomes Toto with a "My good friend!"

The sun is setting rapidly now, and the yacht is beginning to move out of the harbor. Its engines are purring smoothly as it cuts through the waves, picking up speed.

Lewis's abs look great in that see-through "Sea Maiden" Burberry t-shirt paired with bright orange pants.

"Are those real?!" You feel his abs, greeting him, making Seb laugh as Lewis has him wrapped around his arm. Seb's chin resting on Lewis's shoulder.

"Lucky me!" Seb says, wearing a beautiful two-piece ensemble: a cute baby blue and white stripes bikini top paired with a Miu Miu white mini skirt. This time, he has natural short hair and sunglasses. His waist looks tiny.

The drinking and partying started from the get-go, with music and laughter creating a relaxed vibe.

Lance and you dance around for a while, holding your drinks in hand before you need to pee.

You go down the narrow, long hallway to the bathroom when you see a girl closing the door going in. "Dammit!" you let out before turning back around.

As you exit the hallway, Toto enters it on his way to the same bathroom door, only to find it's in use.

As you approach St. Tropez, you can see the many bonfires on the long beach coast twinkling on the horizon.

The yacht docks at the Stroll mansion, where a staff team had set up a massive bonfire and a beach party like no other.

There are food tables, a very famous DJ, gift bags with everything you need plus luxury items, beautiful white and natural wood-looking outdoor sitting areas with stunning flower decor, and Cantoya lights that give the place such a vibe.

You and your friends disembark last. You are already having a good time on deck. As you finally make your way down to the beach, you are welcomed by the smoking hostesses in bikinis, who offer you roasted marshmallows.

"Follow me! I asked our people to set us our own bonfire in a spot far away from my parents!" Lance informs you.

And he was right. It was less crowded and far from the main action but still on site.

As you walk there, feeling the still warm sand on your feet, you pass a breathtaking house with an oceanview front and an open concept.

Carlos waves his hand from the pool there, grabbing the group's attention.

"Where are you going?!" he screams.

"To Tortoise," Lance screams back. "See you there?" You assume it's a reference. Carlos nods his head.

Ten minutes later, he arrives with some of his cousins and Lando. They all get introduced, and the boys choose to start playing beach volleyball. It turns out Tortoise is the nickname of that court.

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the distant hum of the DJ's music create a pulsating atmosphere.

As you sip your cocktails, Lance's team goes back and forth from the bar to your location. You all enjoy the music and cheer for Lewis and Lando playing against Carlos and his cousin.

Nearby, Yuki and Pippa are going at each other, sharing passionate kisses, she is sitting on his lap, wearing a tiny bikini, and Yuki's hand is all over her ass.

After Lewis falls on the sand and misses the shot, Seb laughs really hard, making Lewis go after him.

Seb starts running to the sea in his cute two-piece bikini. Lewis catches him midway, pulling him up from the ground and into his arms before taking his top off.

Seb lets out a small scream, quickly placing his hands over his chest, covering his nipples, and looking your way, making you all laugh.

They start playing in the waves before Seb pulls Lewis down to the wet sand with him.

They start caressing each other, making out hungrily, their hands going everywhere before they go behind some palm trees.

Lewis stays on his feet, back leaning against them in complete pleasure.

The volleyball game's second round caught your and Lea's attention.

A group of guys, all lean and muscular dudes living nearby, are playing a fierce match against the double C, Charles, and Carlos.

Their sweat-drenched faces and glistening skins make them look like they've just stepped out of a fitness magazine.

You two can't help but watch as they leap and dive for the ball, their muscles flexing with every movement.

One of them, a tall, big, blonde-haired guy with piercing green eyes, caught Lea's eye. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, feeling a spark of attraction ignite within them.

"Boys, you look so heated! Why don't we go for a dive-in?" Lea says, getting on her feet once the game ends, pulling off her clothes, and locking her eyes with the hot dude.

You all watch Lea run naked into the waters as you all scream and whistle, mesmerized by her openness, cheekiness, and hot body.

The blonde dude wastes no time following her. They get further into the waters, now barely visible; she grabs herself tight to his neck, her face buried in his shoulder as they fuck.

Everyone in here is making you so horny, and you can't keep ignoring Carlos' sweaty and delicious body.

You need some fresh air! What are you saying?! You can't get fresher air!

Before you leave to get a drink, Lando approaches you. "What are you hiding beneath that?! You are the only one still with clothes on."

"A cute and hot swimsuit," you say, all confident and playful.

"LET US SEE!" Pippa turns her head still on Yuki's lap.

You slide down your dress slowly.

Carlos devorous you with his eyes.

"WOAH! WOAH!" Lance lets out.

Lando throws a kiss in the air as you walk to the bar to get a drink on your own.

You notice, when you turn back a few steps away, Carlos biting his fist, watching your ass sway as you go.

The music gets louder as you reach the house's massive pool. The modern Stroll mansion is a work of art.

The bonfire roars to life, sending flames shooting high into the air as the beach erupts into a frenzy of activity. People laugh and dance, others gather around the fire, and some jump into the pool.

Toto can't believe his eyes. That's you, and a lot of you is on display. He feels an instant sensation traveling through his body.

Toto's eyes wander all over you as you pass before him on the other side of the pool. He gets on his feet and jumps into the pool.

Heading toward the bar, swimming across to catch you in there. Just as the bartender gives you your drink and you sip it, you turn around to witness Toto stepping out of the pool, water running all over his muscular body. You can't help but follow the water down with your gaze.

"But if it's the Williams girl!"

"Hi, Mercedes boy!"

"Boy?!" he laughs a bit at that.

"I didn't see you at the yacht!"

"We were upstairs."

"And where are you now?"

You point in the distance to a miniature bonfire.

"Feeling better, then? I hope you are having a good time; you look like it." You sense his eyes going all over you without discretion.

"I am! You?" you suggestively bite and suck your straw. Is that how you are supposed to flirt?!

"Meh. Lawrence is a friend."

"You can join us if you want."

"Sure, I can pop by later. Don't drink too much," Toto says, stealing the drink from your hands, putting the straw in his mouth, and sipping it.

Toto wanders away from the party as he takes an important call. Being the boss requires 24/7 availability.

He is close to the Sainz Mansion, enough to overhear Carlos and Lando's conversation.

"Y/N looks so appetizing," Carlos says.

"The way he looked at you, man, she is just waiting for you to fuck her." Lando agrees and adds.

"Right?! I felt the same! I'm going to take Y/N to my bed as soon as I see her. I think I still have condoms upstairs. See you around."

Since everyone but you seem busy fucking and hooking up, and Carlos is nowhere near, apparently, you go for a walk to take in the beautiful surroundings.

It's your first time at St. Tropez, and it's as gorgeous as you heard. You venture to go exploring further past the Stroll's house.

Toto watches you from a distance, wandering all by yourself. He catches your step, and you more than gladly invite him to join you.

Soon, it's just the two of you alone in front of an empty mansion. It's a quiet, lonely beach, just for your voices and laughs as you talk about life, finding things in common, and starting to know each other.

He gets near the sea, dipping his feet in the water as he slowly walks in. You follow his steps. The wet sand feels soft against your toes.

Soon, you are standing before him, half your body inside the water, with the moon reflecting on the surface.

You feel Toto slowly pulling the string off your top, unwrapping the tight nod in your back and causing it to fall down to the sea.

The cold air hardens your nipples as well as your excitement. Toto looks down at your breasts.

The waves move your bodies against each other.

"Beautiful," he lets out and kisses your neck. Before cupping one of your tits and rubbing your nipple with one of his thumb fingers, licking it with his tongue, moving it in circles, playing with your nipple, arousing you before claiming your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, dancing on your tip toes, stroking yourself against him.

He pulls you tight against his naked, firm chest in a fast move, and proceeds to place a trail of kisses from your temple to your shoulders, where he starts to move down to your chest. His lips biting and sucking your nipples.

He wraps your legs around his waist, pulling you by your thighs with a firm grip, and carries you deeper into the sea.

You feel your breasts rubbing on his skin, your naked skin brushing, making him get hard, or so you feel against your inner thigh.

Toto holds you in place by the ass as he starts pushing your body against his, up and down, slowly, as you two make out, your hands going all over his wet hair.

He then puts you down before making you turn around; you back against him, and you feel his now full erection on your ass cheeks as he rubs you against it while kissing your neck, squeezing and cupping your tits with both his big hands before moving to play with your nipples again.

The sensation sends you to heaven.

He starts sliding his big hand down your body, leaving a trail of warmth on your stomach. You feel his fingers sliding your bikini bottoms' light and small fabric to the side.

You sense the water brushing your pussy as Toto's index finger starts caressing your folds while he bites your ear lobe.

"I couldn't resist not being your first," Toto confesses. "You are an enigma that I want to unwrap slowly," he whispers to your ear.

You moan for him several times as he slowly and tenderly pushes his finger into you, exploring your insides.

"Warm and wet for me," he whispers, hot against your ear. You place your hand on his forearm with a tight grip.

"It feels so good," your voice is barely a whisper. Toto inserts a second finger inside you, giving you time to adjust to the feeling.

Then he starts fingering you, making you moan and say things that for sure will make you die of embarrasment tomorrow. He is torturing you with the pleasure of his different speed rhythms.

Just about when you start gasping for air, he leads your right hand inside his swim trunks to wrap it around his hard cock.

"Do it this way," Toto guides you as he reads the hesitation in your eyes. You start rubbing his dick as he keeps finger fucking you.

"Faster and in a twirling movement like this," he shows you how he likes it. It's great that you are a fast learner; you soon make him groan.

As you go on him, jerking him off, he bites your lip.

Minutes later, he pulls his dick out of his swim trunks and starts rubbing the tip of his cock between your ass cheeks as he groans loud and cums on you, grabbing your tits tight as you arch against him.

He softly pats, slaps, and squeezes your ass a couple of times as he claims your lips. You make him wrap his toned arms around you as you slide your hands all over them.

You keep kissing till you start to feel the chilly air. You get put together before Toto carries you back to the beach, where your bikini top is nowhere to be seen.

You can't return to the bonfire party topless like that.

He picks up his white linen shirt from the sand, places it on you, and buttons it up for you. Your naked breasts are still visible under the fabric.

You pull him closer, stealing him many more kisses. "Don't leave yet," you whisper against his lips.

You two lay on the sand. Well, Toto does. He places you on top of him as you keep exploring each other's bodies, tasting every corner and spot with your wet tongues, leaving traces everywhere.

You break the hot, wet kiss you are sharing to catch your breath.

"You should go back to your friends before they worry," he tells you, unconvinced.

"Oww," you whine.

"Okay, you win" he smiles against your mouth and continues kissing you, his hand squeezing your ass.

After a couple of minutes, he tells you. "I'll see you around, okay? We will make time for ourselves this week."

"Like, ahem, when?"

"Whenever you like."

You give him a couple of "final" goodbye kisses before he buries you beneath his body, shifting positions, placing himself on top of you and in between your legs, kissing you passionately, unable to pull away.

"Go," you push him away playfully. "I can't quit you". You steal him another quick kiss before he gets on his feet, dick looking hard again.

You return to your now completely drunk friends bonfire party with the biggest smile on earth, wearing a sizes bigger man's shirt with visibly no top beneath.

Seb and Leandra give you THE look.

And you go all red under their stares.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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