#the only way to find who are your friends you must find your enemies first | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

criminalamnesia · 5 months ago

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warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

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gyusrose · 9 months ago

Text

➵ you’re so vain -> l.hs

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ jock!heeseung x reader, enemies to ?????, heeseung is rlly annoying, hate sex ;), hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation, backshots lmao. i think that’s it?

summary: attending a new school was supposed to be a fresh start for you, trying to be nice to everyone and have new friends, yet coming across lee heeseung threw all of that out the window.

(heeseung x fem.reader)

wc: 3.2k

your sweaty hands could not be gripping the steering wheel any harder. you wouldn’t call yourself “super shy” but when it comes to a whole new community of people, teenagers, hell yeah you are.

you had to move exactly at the middle of the year due to your mom’s work. they offered her double the salary at the other side of the city, who was she to say no to that? although you were going to miss your friends and the overall environment of your old home, you couldn’t just tell your mom ‘no’, either way her decisions are final.

you just got here two days ago, and to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. the worst thing so far is the fact that the nearest shopping center was 30 minutes away but you’ll live.

you didn’t except your first day of school to be so nerve-wracking. surely you’ll make some friends but who knows what people are like here. eventually, you saw the big navy blue sign with your school’s name on it. it was an averagely big school, bigger than your old one, which also meant more people.

the parking space alone was scary. it was huge yet already full even though it was still fairly early. you went around in circles around the parking lot, trying to find a vacant spot. fortunately you did at the second-to-last line.

as you tried to park, the limited space you had made it difficult to, having to back up and drive in constantly. as you reversed your car, you must have completely forgotten that you aren’t the only one there, feeling a small crash at the bumper of your car.

your eyes widened in panic. you looked back to see what you hit, and with your luck, it revealed at very nice black car, to which you’ve just hit. you tried to quickly get into your parking spot, hoping it was nothing serious, but then someone came walking up to you.

‘shit, that must be the owner’ you saw his red, rather handsome, fuming face.

you got out of your car to confront the first person interaction.

“hey look im so-“

“CANT YOU FUCKING DRIVE RIGHT? YOU HIT MY VERY EXPENSIVE CAR WITH YOUR THING, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

oh he was an asshole. you almost scoffed in his face. who does he think he is.

“it was accident that’s all, it was barely a scratch calm down man.”

“IT WAS DEFINITELY A SCRATCH LOOK AT IT! JUST BECAUSE YOU KEEP YOUR CAR LOOKING ALL MISERABLE DOESNT MEAN I WILL, DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?”

lord take me back. you were so close to just leaving him there arguing with himself. but you didn’t want to make him even angrier.

“look im sorry! i can pay for the fix up if that’s what you want, i dont know what else to do?”

the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement.

“you think i don’t have the money for it? please, it shows you’re a newbie around here.”

“i didn’t mean it like that-“

“yo heeseung!! come on bro!” another blonde boy called from afar, hopefully ending the argument y’all were having.

“ watch your back new girl.” with one last glare, he left to join his group of friends.

you rolled your eyes. shiver my fucking timbers, you thought.

you took a deep breath before grabbing your backpack and making your way into school , hoping to never see his face ever again.

you thought that was going to be the end of it all. but oh boy were you wrong. soon you found out that heeseung is the captain of the football team, and pretty much the most popular boy in school. as cliche as it sounds, every girl would drop their panties if he asked them to.

people know he’s not the nicest person ( an asshole) yet they still look up to him. that’s angered you. how are all these people so dumb? just because he’s kinda good-looking? seriously?

over the course of a few weeks, you’ve managed to make some friends, your closest taehyun and Isa. although you tried to block the negativity, heeseung made it really hard. always giving you snarky comments when he saw you around, ridiculing you in front of other people. somehow always finding a way to run into you despite not having any classes together. except gym.

“ bro open your eyes, catch the damn ball!” he yelled from across from you.

you hated sports. even less could you play one, but you gotta do it for the grade.

“the ball was too high up dummy!” you retorted, rolling your eyes for maybe the 100th time in the class period.

if you hated gym before, you definitely hated it more now.

as the period ended, you decided to take a quick shower in the locker rooms since you couldn’t handle being all sweaty and gross throughout the day.

heeseung finished changing and was outside the locker room with his friends, chatting, waiting for the bell to ring. that’s when he may have accidentally eavesdropped the conversation between your two friends, he could barely the names of.

“where’s _____?” taehyun asked isa, noticing how you weren’t with her.

“she’s taking a shower right now, she told us to not wait for her.” Isa shrugged before taehyun nodded.

a beautiful idea popped in heeseung’s brain. it was too good.

he excused himself and sneakily waited by the girl’s locker room, waiting for everyone to come out. once he only heard the shower you were using running, he quietly entered the room. the bell had rang about a minute ago, so the gym was empty, only you and him. the gym teacher god knows where.

he saw his target and rapidly grabbed the pile of clothes sitting on the bench, a smirk evident in his face.

suddenly the shower stopped running, making heeseung hurry and exit the locker room.

the shower felt too good, you think you spent more time that you anticipated to. as you exited the shower tiles, you looked around for your clothes, which you remember clearly leaving them in the bench closest to the shower. you looked around the whole locker room, hoping you were wrong and placed them elsewhere. unfortunately, you couldn’t even find your damn socks.

your biggest fear has come true. you’re now naked, nothing but a towel covering you, this was more than just humiliating. you felt sad, mad, angry, embarrassed all at once. they’ve been stolen for sure, and you were more than sure on who did it.

grabbing your phone you called Isa, to see if she could help you somehow. and she indeed did. bringing you some spare clothes she had. thankfully, you always bring extra underwear since situations like these could happen. you just had to wait for isa for the clothes, yet the five minutes she took felt like five hours. unfortunately, passing period is over, meaning some students are coming in the locker room to change.

many of them just straight up stared at you. giving you weird looks as to why you were pretty much naked in the middle of the locker room, but none had the guts to ask you.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. lee heeseung won’t hear the end of it.

“LEE HEESEUNG!” you yelled across the field. he and his friends were siting down eating lunch outside when you spotted him after trying to find him after the stunt he just pulled.

heeseung knew it was coming, giggling with his friends as they heard you yell his name once again. “ oh she’s about to scold me now .” heeseung scoffed but still got up and went over to you.

“yes ma’am?” he said with a smile, you wish you could slap off but you’re better than that.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT WAS?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about..” heeseung tried acting innocent but failed as he just burst out laughing. you groaned, how on earth is that funny?

“cute panties by the way” he continued to laugh, not sparing a glance at your mad expression on your face.

“you’re such an ass, i hate your guts.” you said leaving him alone, laughing to himself.

“yo bro i think she actually got mad this time.” his friend, jake came over.

heeseung shrugged. “she’s so sensitive, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“i can’t believe he did that…” taehyun said as you told them both what had happened. Isa knew a little bit but not who did it.

“that’s fucked up, what’s he got against you so much?”

you shrugged. “i guess because i gave his car a little scratch, but i guess he took it to heart since he hasn’t stopped bothering me since. he’s a jerk.”

“finally someone who thinks the same as me!” taehyun said making you chuckle.

“then get back at him! you know the one thing that makes him who he is is that damn football.” Isa said.

you tried to be the bigger person this whole time, not paying much mind to his little remarks or pranks he pulls, biting back a little wouldn’t hurt right?

“you know what, you’re right.”

“lee heeseung, mrs. park wants to speak to you.” mr.jung said calling heeseung.

heeseung who was barely paying attention heard his name. his frowned at this. what on earth could she want to talk about with him? either way, he went to her classroom.

he entered the empty classroom to find his coach and mrs.park, waiting for him. what the fuck? heeseung was more confused now. maybe they were going to congratulate him for the good work this semester? his coach’s face said otherwise though.

“there you are, you may be wondering why you’re here..” mrs.park started. heeseung nodded, feeling uneasy.

“a student came forward, showing how you copied word for word her whole assignment, the one i assigned a week ago. i didn’t notice it at first but it’s very clear now, you may know how cheating is unacceptable in my class, i’ve decided to fail you in this assignment, plus you’ll be serving detention this whole week..” she turned to the coach.

heeseung’s heart started beating at a rapid pace, he’s never been caught cheating, and being failed on the assignment that was a big part of his grade, it means he’s most likely failing the class now. the rules for football stated that all players should be passing all of their classes if not, they’ll be dropped….

no no no, the lee heeseung can’t be dropped. he’s the captain! the star player!

“since you’re failing this class heeseung, i think you know what’s about to happe-“

“please coach! don’t kick me out, i’m the captain! what would the team do without me? i’ll get my grade up as soon as possible im-“

“calm down calm down, i’m not going to kick you out, it’s the middle of the season, but unfortunately you won’t be playing the next three games. if your grade is not up by then, then i will drop you. understood?” his coach stated earning a sharp nod by heeseung.

he’s glad he’s still on the team but what’s the point if he can’t play? he’s going to become a joke. the captain that’s a bench warmer. how stupid.

he left the classroom enraged. he knows exactly who did this.

“bro what? what do you mean you ain’t gonna play ?” riki said in disbelief at what his captain just said.

“some snitch told mrs.park that i cheated on the last assignment and coach suspended me for the next three games, and i got detention all week!” sunghoon unknowingly chuckled. heeseung looked at him with a glare.

“what? she got you good, what did you expect hee?” sunghoon kept laughing, making some of the others also laugh silently.

heeseung had nothing to say back, he just rolled his eyes. “tch, whatever.”

nevertheless, you were overjoyed seeing heeseung slouching on the bench. you couldn’t miss this once in a lifetime scenario. obviously you were the cause for it. heeseung asks Isa almost all the time for her notes or to straight up copy her. she willingly let you rat him out after what he did to you.

he can sense how all eyes were on him, but he just tried to block everyone out a focus on the game. he had a poker face on, but deep inside he was irritated . he saw how you were smirking and laughing with your two little friends. you knew what you were doing.

“ahh look who it is, the benchwarmer! “ you said chuckling as you made your way to heeseung.

after the team (barely) won, jake threw an ‘after party’ at his house. even though you don’t normally go to these parties, especially from those boys, you felt like a party would do good with your marvellous mood. something about seeing heeseung’s frowny face made feel over the moon.

“seems like cat got your tongue now huh? dont have anything to say-“

in a blink of an eye you were pulled into a room, heeseung’s fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“what the fuck? heeseung-“

“shut the fuck up.” his hoarse voice caught you off guard. he was actually really mad.

“you think what you did it’s fucking funny? huh? almost getting me kicked out ? “ you’ve never seen him this enraged before. making you almost scared, yet….kinda turned on? no, you hate him, snap out of it! you told yourself yet the wetness in between your legs became hard to ignore.

you didn’t respond. “fuck, you’re so annoying, i can’t fucking stand you. i hate you.” he saw lowly. fuck that was hot.

you spoke before thinking. “then show me.”

not needing to tell him twice, heeseung pulled you completely in. your lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle, a fierce and consuming clash that spoke longing and raw need.

The kiss deepened, fueled by an unspoken urgency, their mouths exploring each other with a fervor that left y’all breathless. his grip on your neck becoming tighter.

“shit im gonna show you to fucking behave.” he said before pushing you into the bed forcefully. you may have discovered a new kink of yours. watching as he undressed himself and yourself rapidly. feeling his anger through every touch he gave you.

he rubbed through your folds before inserting two fingers aggressively. your body jolted at the sudden move.

“holy shit go softer dumbass.”

“aw you think i give a fuck? suck it up and take it since you think you’re all that.” his fingers pumped faster and faster making it hard for you to answer back to his stupid remarks.

“oh my god..” you tried to pull his hand away before you cum. not wanting to see you orgasm so easily yet.

“just fuck me already heeseung, or is your dick as tiny as your brain?”

heeseung looked darkly at you. that stupid mouth of yours can’t shut up will it?

he retracted his fingers put of you and took his boxers off. wanting nothing more than to prove you wrong.

shit. your eyes went wide at what stood in front of you. saying he was big was an understatement. it was like a zipper for your mouth. how was that thing going to fit inside of you?

“can’t say anything now, can you slut?” he pulled your legs down the mattress to have you at the perfect angle to ram into you.

heeseung ran his til over your folds, teasing his way in. making you aggrevated.

“just put it in for fucks sake!”

“tell me how bad you want it.” you shook your head, no way were you going to beg. no way.

“alright then, i guess im gonna go.” he said letting go of your waist, acting as if he was going to leave.

“okay okay! please fuck me, i want it so bad, i want your big cock so bad heeseung.” heeseung moaned at your words. he didn’t wait any longer and thrusted all of him in you.

you both moaned yet it was more painful for you. you’ve never had something so big inside you before.

“fuck yeah..” he said then grabbing your neck, slightly choking you. your hands went to his biceps, trying to find something to hold on to as the speed he was thrusting in became more hostile.

“fuck me harder, like the asshole you are.” you said in between breaths. heeseung took the challenge and thrusted violently. the skin slapping and wetness of your core could probably be heard in the party outside.

“of course a whore like you would like to be fucked like this.”

before you could respond he pulled out of you earning a desperate groan from you, but then your were flipped, now on all fours and before you knew it he was back in you again. gripping your hip with one hand while he pulled your hair on the other.

“such a tight pussy, you probably fantasized about this am i right?” he said in your ear. you shook your head through your moan.

“in your dreams lee, in your fucking dreams. fuck you.”

“i’m quite literally doing that.” chuckling, he let go of your hair and instead gripped your other hip, going in deeper, nudging your cervix literally driving you to an edge.

“fuck i’m cumming.” you cried out. never has an orgasm felt like this. heeseung was on edge as well, feeling you clench around his dick did it for him.

your climax rose over you, making you fall into the pillow while heeseung kept thrusting until his own organs came over him, pulling out and releasing his white ropes all over your back.

tiredly, he laid besides you in the strangers bed, not knowing what to say now.

you turned to him, smirking. “i think i may hate you even more now.”

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randomshyperson · 10 months ago

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Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome.

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee.

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats.

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock."

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack?

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well.

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy.

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses.

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest.

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips.

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat.

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it.

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now.

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat.

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?"

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else.

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part.

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out.

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well.

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips.

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this.

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve.

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her.

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again.

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader

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earthchica · 3 months ago

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Give In

bodyguard! terry richmond x black fem! (Singer) reader

summary: you are a rising singer in need of a bodyguard, and that is when Terry gets hired. Your first encounter didn’t go well; he was a stern jerk while you acted like a bit of a diva. Despite your disagreements, you both eventually found a way to work through your differences.

warning: angst, teasing, enemies to friends, brat behavior, insults, fluff, poetry, explicit smut (18+), dom/sub kinda, oral (f), protected rough sex, ass slaps, nicknames (baby, baby girl, beautiful)

note: so sorry for the wait! I changed the summary a bit to make it sound better. I had a lot of fun writing this. I just hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I did, haha.

Your singing career grew faster than you expected, taking you on an amazing journey to stardom.

However, your new rise to fame has come with pros and cons like stalking paparazzi and crazy fans.

Your manager recommended hiring a private bodyguard. You were initially hesitant, but eventually, you decided to accept the idea.

When you were introduced to Terry Richmond, you couldn't help but think he was the most handsome man you had ever seen.

However, despite his striking looks, he was a complete asshole with a cold demeanor.

For example, at a meet-and-greet photo op, Terry stood at the entrance as each fan walked through.

He patted them down and gave them a rude remark and an intimidating stare.

“Could you please relax your face a bit? And why are you patting them down like airport security? You need to chill; you're scaring all my fans,” You expressed.

"Brenda, where did you find this clown?" You asked your manager, and she tried to reason with you, but you didn't listen.

Terry glanced at you blankly and said, "I'm just doing my job; it's protocol, ma’am,"

“Fucking protocol, this fucking protocol that is it protocol to be an asshole…and what did I tell you about calling me, ma’am? You know, you’re older than me, right?” You asked, and he didn’t respond.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while patiently waiting for the next fan.

Brenda nudged him on the shoulder and whispered something to him you couldn't hear.

"Look, lady, I'll do my best to appear less intimidating, but I will not tolerate your diva behavior. I'm here to protect you, and protecting your life is serious, which means adhering to protocol. Do you understand?" Terry asked in a softer but still dominant tone.

"I understand, but you need to understand that you are working for me; you can stay on your "protocol shit" but by my rules. Okay," You replied.

“Brenda… I’m sorry, but I can’t work with this,” Terry said, looking at her with frustration, which caused you to look shocked.

"Look at you…running…I thought you were a tough guy, just a clown," You yelled teasing him as he walked out of the room, and Brenda ran after him.

As you talked to your assistant, Chole, Terry, and Brenda walked back into the room. They must have had a talk.

"I apologize for my behavior, miss. I will cooperate with you, but only if you do the same." Terry clenches his jaw, and you smirk, noticing that it probably hurts his ego to say that.

"You know what…It's cool. And fine, I will cooperate," You said, clearing your throat, and oddly feeling slightly aroused.

As the days passed, you noticed subtle changes in Terry's behavior. He started engaging in small talk, asking about your day, and even cracking a joke here and there.

You tried to be less of a bitch and more nice and playful with him. He was still professional but more easy to talk to than before.

Walking together one evening, you paused in front of a quaint little bookstore.

The window display featured a collection of classic novels, their covers slightly worn, as if inviting readers to delve into their pages.

You glanced at Terry, who gave a slight nod of approval, and you both stepped inside.

There weren’t many people inside, thankfully. The smell of old books and polished wood enveloped you, creating a cozy atmosphere.

You wandered through the aisles, your fingers occasionally brushing against the books.

Terry followed at a respectful distance, his eyes still watchful but softer for you.

As you reached the back of the store, you found a comfy armchair tucked away in a corner.

With a contented sigh, you sank into it.

Terry stood nearby, glancing around at the shelves, and you noticed his gaze lingering on a book of poetry.

You pointed it out with a smile. "See something you like, Terry?" You asked curiously in a playful tone.

"Uh," He hesitated momentarily, then picked up the book, flipping through its pages with a surprising gentleness.

"Yeah…I used to read a bit of poetry," He admitted quietly. "It’s been a while."

You nodded, understanding. "Well, maybe today’s the day to start again," You suggested, feeling warm.

“Maybe!”

“Can I ask you what your favorite poem is?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Terry paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "There's one by Langston Hughes that I always liked," He said, voice softening.

“What is it?”

“Uh…The Dream Keeper.' It's about dreams, how precious they are, and how they must be protected and cherished."

You smiled, touched by his choice. "That's a beautiful one. Wow, I wouldn't have thought you would be a guy into poetry."

"Well… that's your problem. You don't know nothing by me," Terry said, a rare, full smile breaking through his usually composed exterior, which fluttered your heart.

"You right…maybe…I should get to know you more on a deeper level." You flirted playfully, looking into his pretty eyes intensely

"How about you? What's your favorite poem?" Terry asked, ultimately shifting the subject.

He was good at that; change the topic whenever you asked about getting to know him.

Terry comes over with the book in his hand and sits next to you. You think for a moment.

"I think I'd have to say 'Phenomenal Woman' by Maya Angelou," You replied as your eyes lit up.

"It's such an empowering piece, full of strength and grace," you continued.

Terry nodded thoughtfully, his fingers gently gliding over the pages of the poetry book.

"Angelou's words have a way of striking right at the heart," He agreed, genuinely interested in the discussion.

“You are a Phenomenal Woman,” He mumbled in a low tone, hoping you didn’t hear him, but you did.

You smirked. “You think so?

“Damn it! nothing gets past you, huh?” He chuckles softly; his little chuckle is music to your ears.

“Do you mean it?” You asked, looking at him, fluttering your eyelashes, waiting for him to respond.

His expression changed from gentle to serious, and Terry stood, stretching a little.

“Let me know when you’ve finished,” He said, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared to walk away, a hint of cold in his voice.

"Wait," You said, stopping him, and grabbing the poetry book from his hand before heading to the front cash register.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he trotted closely behind you.

“I’m getting this for you,” You replied, smiling, handing the book to the cashier.

"As a thank you for cooperating with my attitude. I know it's your job to protect me, and you want to do your job right, but who says we can’t be friends, right?" You added with a smile.

"You didn't have to do that," He said, looking surprised, but a hint of gratitude shone in his light eyes.

"Well, I wanted to," You said simply. Both of you waited for the car inside, and soon, Terry guided you out of the bookstore, shielding you from the paparazzi.

You shivered slightly when you felt his hand on your lower back. The two of you managed to get into the car.

The car ride was quiet, filled with the soft hum of the music and the occasional rustle of paper as Terry thumbed through his new book.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, noticing how his expression softened as he read.

Seeing this side of him was amazing, a reminder that maybe you could get him to open up a little bit.

"Thank you," Terry said suddenly, breaking the silence. "For the book."

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. "Of course, Terry."

He simply nodded in acknowledgment, then turned his attention back to the pages of his book.

As he immersed himself in the book, you couldn't help but admire his caramel-brown skin tone emanated a warm glow under the sun shining from the window, highlighting his essence.

You watched his mesmerizing blend of greyish-blue or perhaps hazel-green eyes, depending on the day, move back and forth through the words.

“You know, it’s not nice to stare,” Terry remarked playfully, glancing up from his book.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he offered you a warm, infectious smile—the kind that lingered in your thoughts long after you had seen it.

You looked away, trying to suppress a smile; this man was going to be the death of you if you didn't do something about it.

As months passed, Terry finally began to share his life before becoming a bodyguard. The more you learn about him, the deeper your feelings for him become.

You now consider him a friend. In public, Terry maintained a professional bodyguard demeanor.

In private, he was like a big teddy bear you couldn’t help but want to embrace.

Although spending almost every day together, there was still a boundary he wouldn’t cross with you, and you wanted him to cross it so bad.

Your first global tour was a complete success. You traveled worldwide, singing and meeting your fans; it was a dream come true.

It was around eight at night, and you found yourself alone in your hotel room, wearing pajamas and waiting for room service.

Out of nowhere, a firm knock echoes through the quiet room. You pause, glancing toward the door, and call out to see who it is.

A familiar voice responds—it’s Terry. You invited him in, and he entered with the room service server.

His reassuring presence stood tall as he watched the server set everything on the table before dismissing them.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, your voice slightly hoarse from the last evening's performance.

Terry caught your gaze, his eyes sparkling with that familiar glimmer.

"No, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you got your food," He replied, his tone sweet and sincere.

"Come on, are you sure? There’s plenty to share, Terry," You said, motioning toward the spread of food.

"I guess, maybe just a little," He agreed, pulling up a chair beside you.

You both began to eat in a lovely, comfortable silence, but Terry broke it by asking you something.

"I never really asked you this but how are you managing and feeling all of this?" Terry asked, gesturing to this rising fame.

You shrugged, a small smile gracing your lips. "It's been exciting, anxious. I have my moments, you know that,"

"Oh, I know…you still do, bratty attitude and everything," he said teasingly, but stating facts, you playfully hit him on the arm.

"But I'm trying to meditate and stay grounded, surrounding myself with trustworthy people like you and Brenda."

He nodded, a warm grin spreading across his face. "I'm glad to hear that."

"You're doing an incredible job. It's not easy being in the spotlight all the time." He added, his simple yet heartfelt words warmed your heart.

"Thank you, Terry. That truly means a lot," You replied softly, and he gave you a nod with a smile.

After eating, you and Terry began watching a movie in bed, and you unexpectedly fell asleep.

Your head fell on his shoulder, and you began cuddling against him.

Terry removed you from his arm, got out of the bed, and reluctantly prepared to leave, but you stopped him.

"Where are you goin', T?" You whined sleepily, holding his arm tenderly.

"I should let you get some rest," He said, a touch of remorse in his voice.

“No….wait..,” You said, letting go of his arm and clumsily getting out of bed.

You almost stumbled, but he caught you. You and Terry shared an intense gaze before your eyes shifted to his lips.

You leaned in, lust swirling in the air between you. Just as your lips were about to meet.

Terry stopped you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious.

“We can’t,” Terry said, the weight of his words hanging heavily around you.

“Terry, it’s okay. Let it happen,” you said, leaning in closer again, feeling him shift, especially when he didn't push you away.

You kiss his lips softly, and he melts into the kiss, loving the warmth and sweetness of your lips.

Just as you were to rest your hands on his shoulders, a sudden shift occurs, and he gently pulls away, your eyes lingering on his back.

“Fuck, you're making this real hard for me,” He says, moving towards the couch on the other side of the room.

“Terry, don’t you feel this attraction between us? Because I do…I really like you.”

“I-i do but…it’s….”

You moved toward him, knelt before him, and placed your hands on his knees.

“Wrong,” You quietly inquired, your voice barely above a whisper, while pressing your forehead gently against his.

The warmth of your skin is connected with his, creating intimate and intense feelings.

“Because it’s unprofessional, and you work for me. Well, who fucking cares? We're attractive to each other, and we want each other. Let's just say fuck it," You expressed, grabbing his hand and placing it on your exposed wide hip.

You heard his breath hitch as Terry shook his head, trying to resist as he uttered your name, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Come on…Daddy," You whispered softly, heart racing as you just risked calling him that.

Terry tilted his head and grunted his teeth before grabbing your face with his hands and pulling you into a passionate kiss before lifting you up to straddle him.

The world around you seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the feel of his hands on your body and the feel of his sweet, soft lips.

A muffled moan leaves your mouth as Terry's tongue begins to dance along with yours.

He pulls away and starts kissing your jawline and your neck before opening your button-up PJ shirt roughly and your breasts popping out.

"You've been driving me crazy, you know?" He asked, squeezing them and sucking them, causing you to let out a moan.

You gazed at him with intense desire; his dirty talk and the hunger in his eyes deepened your arousal by the minute.

Terry had you stand up with him, and you both began removing each other's clothes.

His breath hitched, feeling you unbutton his pants and push them down to his feet.

"Mmmmm, I thought it was bigger, Daddy. This is disappointing, " You said playfully, aware that you were treading on dangerous ground.

You bite your lip while gently caressing his big, throbbing dick through his underwear.

He grabbed your neck roughly and said, "Oh, is it? You better watch, girl. I'll have you begging and crying for it; I'mma have to teach you a lesson. keep playing with me."

And indeed he did.

Terry smiled up between your legs. You were a hot, crying, and moaning mess who should've shut your damn mouth.

This was your third orgasm; he was working out of you, and you were so damn sensitive.

"Look at you, a fucking mess. Shouldn't have been talking all that shit." He says, plunging his tongue between your wet folds again, seeking out your most sensitive spots.

"Daddy, ahhh, I'm sorry, oh fuck right here," You cried, feeling him spread your legs further apart, slowly sliding in one, then two fingers, pumping in and out fast.

Pressure began building deep inside. "Right there, baby girl?" He asked.

"Yes, ahhh yes!" You moaned, feeling your walls start fluttering around his fingers.

A third finger slips in, and in one thrust, your body tenses; in two thrusts, your eyes roll in the back of your head.

"Mmm fuck….I'm close, daddy," You moaned softly, gripping the bed sheets tightly while bucking your hip a little bit.

"Cum for me, baby girl." He says, lapping his tongue through your folds, and the orgasm hits you like a bus.

"That's it, such a good girl. Look at you," Terry says, placing your legs down and kissing your inner thigh.

You look at him hungrily while coming down from your high. You watched him get a condom and stroke his dick.

"How do you want me, Daddy?" "You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Terry looked at you, still stroking himself; the way he was doing it was turning you on even more.

"I want you to ride me, but reverse," He said, going to lie on his back, and you climbed on top, reversing yourself to face away from him.

He held your waist with one hand while his legs were slightly spread apart.

You grip his dick gently and slowly slide down, causing you to let out a hiss, just the tip only was just too much for you.

"What's the matter, baby girl? Too big for you?" He asked, playfully teasing you.

"No, I can handle it; I've had much bigger than this," You said, with fake confidence, which earned you an ass slap.

"Watch it, baby girl," Terry said with a growl, and you moaned, continuing to slowly slide down his big dick until he was entirely in you and stretching you out.

"Okay, good girl, you got through that; go ahead fuck yourself on it, do all the work if you can," He said, propped up with his arms behind his head, and a mischief smirk played on his lips.

Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut? You told yourself you could've had what you wanted, but Terry was punishing you for your teasing.

You bite your lip and place your hands between his legs, bouncing up and down slowly.

"Mmmm, fuck, there you go, beautiful girl," Terry groaned, giving your ass another slap; even when he's trying to teach you a lesson, he's praising you.

You adapted to his size quicker than expected, bouncing faster, but this didn't reach your wants.

You tried to keep going, but you needed him; you needed his dick, and you needed him to fuck you and take control.

"Daddy?" You cried, shifted to look back at him, and he smiled with his brow raised.

"Yes, baby girl? Is something wrong?" He asked with a bit of amusement in his tone.

"Fuck me, please. I'm sorry. I need you, I need your dick, please," You begged desperately.

"tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't know…have you learned your lesson?" Terry asked, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I swear, yes." You nodded desperately, and tears began streaming down your face.

"Nah…I don't think you have, but Imma turn this pussy out and show you when not to play with me," Terry said dominantly, grabbing your waist and thrusting up harshly, causing you to let out a moan.

"Ahh, fuck" You moaned, placing your hands on his chest, watching his length move in and out of you.

This was what you wanted to feel him move in and out out of your pussy, skin on skin, slapping, filling the room.

Your breasts bounced every which way while you cried and moaned in great pleasure for more.

"You like that, don't you? You like me being in control and fucking the brat of you huh?" Terry asked as his hands moved to your hips, grip tighter than before.

"Yes, Daddy, ahh, just like that, ahh fuck me." You moaned, grew in volume, on the verge of being screams of ecstasy.

The pleasure that he was giving you felt so good that the knot in your stomach was exponentially reforming with every thrust.

Terry could tell from how your pussy clenched around his dick. You whimper when he pulls out, but you get excited when he says.

"Turn around. I want to see that pretty little face of yours, baby."

You turn your body, slightly shaking, and quickly, Terry grabs you to flip you on your back.

You bit your lip, watching him slide in, and start thrusting slowly but quickly, picking up the pace.

"Fuck, yes, Terry," You moaned, wrapping yourself around him, clinging to his skin and leaving scratches down his back.

He grabbed your hand and pushed it above your head, pressing his entire body weight against you.

"Fuck, you feel so good, and you look so damn beautiful; look at you, ahh fuck" Terry moans, kissing you first before pulling away to grip your waist tighter and watch your breasts bounce up and down.

You gripped his arms, letting out louder moans as he went faster, harder, and deeper than before.

"Tell me this is the best dick you've have ever had," He growled

"Ahh…this-this is the best dick I've ever had, Daddy," You cried out, making him smirk.

"You love this dick, don't you?" Terry asked, pulling out and slamming back into you hard, hitting your sweet spot.

"Yes. daddy. I love it; I love it so much. Fuck, It feels so so good I'm gonna-! " You screamed, arching your back.

"Fuck, that's it. You're so fucking good, baby. Such a good girl, cum for me," He moans, kissing your lips, and without a doubt, you orgasmed fourth time tonight.

This one was gushing out of you, causing Terry to pull out and hit his dick against your sensitive pussy before continuing to thrust back in until he had reached his own mind-blowing orgasm.

Terry pulled you into a kiss and moaned your name. You loved hearing every sound he made; he thrusted once more and spilled into the condom, falling against you.

Both of you remained there, trying to catch your breath. You stroked his back as he kissed your neck and collarbone.

Terry rolls off of you, throws the condom away, and pulls you close to cuddle.

You caressed his cheek and gazed into his eyes; words were unnecessary. There was much to figure out, but that could wait because this moment was worth it.

#terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond fluff #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond

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sturnlsstuff · 1 month ago

Text

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter two

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter one | chapter three

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, bratty reader, cursing, blood, knife play, mentions of murder - english isn't my first language.

~~~

chris had a million reasons to hate you. starting from the first day you met him and his brothers, and you accidentally spilled his last pepsi. it was a small thing, didn't mean much, but it was enough for chris to know that you would cause him problems. and he was right.

he didn't like many people, he had problems with trusting them and only his close friends knew what he really was like. besides he didn't really need anyone. still, he was popular and everyone loved him, including the girls on campus. you'd always heard them bragging that they were chris's chosen ones for one night. if not them, then someone else they knew. there were only a few girls he didn't touch and you were one of them.

though chris was tolerating your friend emma, she was really kind and respectful, always minding her own business. besides, she made matt happy, what was enough for chris.

you, on the other hand, were her complete opposite. you argue, always say what you think no matter how mean it is, you don't keep it to yourself. it was like riding without brakes, and he really didn't want to be on this ride with you when the car crashes, so he always tried to stay away. even when you started to have a better relationship with his brothers, and started constantly showing up at their house, going shopping with nick or playing hogwarts legacy with matt. even in college, he'd find you randomly in nick's room or in the frat house on the couch with matt and emma. you were everywhere.

and he was always watching you, noticing the way your nose wrinkled cutely when you laughed at something nick would say. or that look you gave him when he said something you didn't like, immediately taking a deep breath, and that's when chris always knew he was screwed. once you start talking, you never shut up.

he knew that for someone who didn't like you so much, the fact that he knew a lot about you was quite...interesting. knowing what he knows, what type of person you were, he couldn't understand why you were with someone as jealous, obsessive and toxic as your ex boyfriend. before this relationship he would never call you stupid, maybe irritating, but smart in some way. however after seeing you with jake, he thought there must be something wrong with you, which made him dislike you even more. how could you not respect yourself like that? this made him believe you have to be dumb.

against his own logic, he was just a guy who liked pretty girls and unfortunately for him, you were one of them. he would never make any move towards you, god, no. but he had eyes and you were indeed attractive. sometimes he wondered what it would be like to feel your body under his or what you would look like sitting on top of him.

he never expected to experience both of these things in a situation like this.

"chris?!" he hears your voice, shock written all over your face.

you are straddling him, blood flowing down your hand where you were clutching his ghostface mask. the thing he has been hiding under for a while now. the last thing he would have expected was that not only would he finally satisfy his deeply hidden fantasy about feeling your body against his in some way, but that you would also find out about his most hidden secret.

he was fucked.

panic overpowers all of his other senses as he looks at you. chris was always able to control everything, but not this. his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest at any moment. what's worse, despite this awful situation he found himself in, he felt his body reacting to your closeness, something that even he didn't expect, which brings him back to reality.

"get the fuck off me," he mutters, clearing his throat and almost making you fall when he starts getting up. you quickly compose yourself and stands up as well, taking a few steps back and holding his intense gaze.

you were unable to utter a word while he looked at your hand and then at his knife. that made him feel sick, cursing under his breath and wiping the knife on his robe before looking back at you.

"you're bleeding, y'know..." chris says, causing you to scoff. "no shit, sherlock," despite your shock and fear, you roll your eyes not wanting to give him the satisfaction of scaring you.

you look at your arm, touching the blood that was still oozing out. the wound wasn't large or deep, but enough to make you bleed.

"you cut my fucking arm."

"by accident," he mutters, then frowns. "you kicked me in the balls."

"by accident," you mock him sarcastically.

he shakes his head in disbelief at how, despite this situation and your obvious confusion, you still decided to talk back to him.

"what the fuck is this?!" you finally snap at him, pointing at his outfit and the mask in your hand, "you're dressing up as a ghostface and kill people like that? are you insane?!"

chris licks his lips slowly as he tries to control his own emotions and stay calm. he doesn't reply, what only causes the annoyance grow inside you, "i was aware you're fucked in the head, but killing people, chris?! and what, you came here to move me out of your way too?!" you-"

"jesus, shut the fuck up for once, can ya?! you don't know shit," he runs his hand through his hair, then getting annoyed at his gloves so he takes them off, throwing them on the floor. and he does the same with the rob he was wearing, now staying only in a black tank top and black pants. everything suddenly overwhelmed him.

"oh, i'm sorry, then maybe explain?" the evident sarcasm in your tone makes him take a deep breath. your eyes travel down his body before moving up to his frustrated face again. he sighs, taking a step closer and snatching his mask from your hand, putting it on the desk.

"first of all," he starts a bit calmer now, "as i said, i fuckin' hurt you by accident, so this gotta be taken care of..."

you scoff, "yeah, 'cause my arm is the most important thing here. besides don't act like you care, when you're here trying to kill me—"

"i'm not tryin' to kill you, for god's sake!" he snaps back at you again, moving around your room as if this could help him think.

this situation was terrible for him. out of all the people, you had to be the one to find out what he was secretly doing, which was putting him in some real danger. he believed you won't keep your mouth shut and he's gonna get probably arrested tomorrow morning, if he's lucky enough for you to give him one last night to sort things out. unless... he saves himself by sacrificing you, but that thought doesn't even sit right with him.

"oh, really? should i be thankful?" you roll your eyes.

"yes actually," the sarcasm in his voice only makes your anger grow, but you let him speak. "i don't wanna kill you. stop being an idiot."

"you're an idiot," you say offended, crossing your arms over your chest, causing a few drops of blood to fall on your shirt, chris's attention immediately caught.

with a roll of his eyes, he leaves your room confusing you, so you're fast to follow him. he had been to your apartment several times with his brothers on different occasions, so he knew how it was arranged. he quickly finds himself in the bathroom, starting to look for the first aid kit, while you stand in the doorway with a frown.

"what are you doing?"

"told ya, that cut needs to be taken care of," he mutters finally finding what he wanted, and turning around to face you. "sit your ass down."

but you just scoff, not moving. in a few steps, he's in front of you, trying to uncross your arms, but you almost jump away from him as if his touch burned your skin.

"so fuckin' stubborn," he sighs, holding out his hand so you could grab the first aid kit. "do it yourself," surprisingly for chris, you comply and take it from him, walking into the bathroom and starting to clean up your wound.

the bathroom remains silent for a moment, until you speak up again, "if you're not gonna add me to your list of people you've killed, then why are you here?"

"i don' have a list," he frowns, now leaning against the bathroom counter with his arms crossed, watching as you clean up the blood on your arm. "m'here 'cause i left you a gift."

the death stare that you give him in the mirror makes him stop with the jokes. he just didn't know how to cope with this situation, he was never good at dealing with things seriously.

he clears his throat, while you bandage your arm, "i was just supposed to give you the phone and leave unnoticed once you shower or somethin', but you pissed me off with your tough girl talk. so i had to make an appearance."

you turn around to face him and lean back against the sink, mirroring his position. "and why did you give me that phone?"

"i told ya already, didn't i?" he raises his eyebrow, "so you could delete this fuckass video your stupid ex recorded. and there was also some... extra."

"some extra... you mean that video with an apology?"

chris responds with a nod at your question. there were so many questions swirling around in your head, that you didn't even know where to start. you also knew that you had to choose your words carefully, so as not to scare him but to find out as much as possible.

"why don't you wanna kill me?"

"you suicidal or some shit?" he can't resist making another joke, but the look you're giving him makes him add, "do i have a reason?"

"do you have to?"

"yes," he says simply, not intending to make your little 'investigation' any easier. he was curious what other questions you'd ask him.

"i never gave you a reason?" you ask skeptically, making chris smirk.

"oh, you did. multiple times," he replies bluntly, giving you goosebumps at the thought. "i don't touch women like that."

"like that?"

"y'know i usually make them scream with pleasure, not fear."

you stare at him, blinking slowly before grimacing with disgust, making his grin widen. "oh my god, ew," you shake your head, pushing yourself off the sink and going back to your room, followed by chris. "remind me, why do i even have this conversation with you?"

"'cause you're a curious little fuck," he replies, watching as you walk towards your desk and grab his ghostface mask with curiosity written all over your face.

"so you don't kill women?"

"no."

"why not?"

"i answered that already."

"i'm asking seriously."

"and i responded seriously as well," he leans against your desk beside you, taking the mask from your hands, catching your attention back at him. "men are dickheads, so i'm only makin' them suffer."

"oh, and you know this from your own example?"

chris has to take a deep breath to keep from wiping that stupid smirk off your face. "yeah, i'm a dick, a'ight," he replies with an overly nice tone, before rolling his eyes. "but there are worse people than me."

you just eye him up and down, the skepticism visible in your expression again, while you take a few steps back from him, not liking how close you two were for a moment.

"wow, a killer with manners, who would've thought," you mutter under your nose. you could have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement, but he quickly hid it.

it's not like you thought he's the worst ever, but he definitely was one of the people you wouldn't want to be close to. you remember how when you first met him and his brothers, you tried to have a normal conversation with chris or get to know him better somehow, but he didn't give you that chance. he was nonchalant, selfish and unfortunately extremely handsome, which was making his ego bigger than his brain.

so with all of these reasons and the back and forth you two have going on, it was really easy for him to become the most annoying person in your eyes.

"so why did you kill jake?"

chris thought you won't finally ask that question you had on the tip of your tongue all this time, so he was happy to answer, "he was one of the dickheads."

"maybe give me more details, you idiot."

"y'don't need more," chris rolls his eyes. "we both know he was an asshole."

despite your reluctance, you had to agree with him, but one thing was still bothering you. chris helped you with jake and his friend at the party last night and now your ex was dead. so this made you think...

"did you do this for me?" you ask, but he just raises an eyebrow, scanning your face for a moment. the smirk on his face doesn't match the boredom you hear in his voice when he finally speaks up, "why would i? not everythin' is 'bout you, princess."

his words stir conflicting emotions within you, and for a moment the room remains silent with a strange, awkward tension.

"enough with the questions," chris says clearly fed up with your curiosity. "he deserved it, that's all."

"you think he deserved to die?"

this one sentence makes something in chris switch, and you see his bored expression turn into annoyance really fast, but not the one he always gave you when you two had the back and forth, but the one that told you that you really, really pissed him off.

he's quick to get closer, backing you up against the wall and getting you trapped between it and him. for some reason your heart starts racing, but you weren't scared at all.

"you ain't gonna be the one to call me out on shit, actin' like you give a fuck 'bout this idiot' death." he hisses through gritted teeth, "you didn't even cry. i see no sadness in your goddamn eyes, so stop pretendin' like i just didn't do you a big fuckin' favor by killin' that douchebag."

the feeling of being exposed like that arises within you, "you don't know how i feel—"

"oh please," he scoffs. "you aren't even mad that i killed him. you wouldn't be doing this whole chitchat thing with me if you were."

seeing that you want to speak again, he doesn't let you and adds, "i've seen you mad, multiple times. i've been makin' you mad constantly. so believe me when i say this little pretty expression of your annoyed face isn't what i see right now."

pretty expression? chris almost frowns at his choice of words, but you don't look like you caught it, which makes him slightly relax.

or maybe you're just good at hiding things.

the feeling that you have to deny it, that you can't give him this satisfaction grows inside you, but you are unable to say anything, realizing that chris is right.

you didn't care about your ex's death. maybe you were that heartless bitch everyone thought you were, but they weren't the ones dealing with jake and his toxicity for almost two years, day after day. they didn't have to hear the disgusting comments, this possessive jealousy. they didn't have to ask their boyfriend for hours for a permission to go out for a drink with your bestfriend, and when he finally agreed, getting a text every ten minutes accusing you of cheating on him and ruining your evening. they didn't have to experience the feeling after finding out that he was fucking a new girl behind your back, then begging for forgiveness just to do it again after a while. you were the one who experienced this and how you feel now is solely your business. no one else's. you didn't even admit to emma that you don't care about jake's death.

but chris knew.

"fuck you," you finally say without breaking eye contact. he lets out a low, mocking laugh, and points his finger at you, sticking it into your shoulder.

"you're not better than me, so stop pretendin' to be." his gaze is so intense that you almost feel small. this has never happened before and it makes you feel something...strange. "n'believe me, better for ya if you keep your mouth shut."

"or what? you gonna kill me?" you scoff, making him almost lose his mind.

"this is just a good advice."

you roll your eyes, still holding your ground, "wow so nice of you, really."

he looks at you, breathing heavily, and only then you both realize how close you are. he's pinning you against the wall, your faces are millimeters apart, both of you unaware that your hearts have just sped up at the same moment.

"i ain't jokin', princess," his voice barely above a whisper, but still intense with a mix of anger and... something you weren't able to name. "if you even try to say anythin', you're fucked."

"now you're threatening me, huh?"

despite your strong personality and the fact that you still acted all tough, you had to admit that at that moment you realized that you got yourself into a really bad situation. not only did you find out something you shouldn't have, but assuming of his reactions, chris hated you even more now.

"told ya already," he tilts his head to the side, and for a split second you could've swear his eyes dropped to your lips before moving back up. "it's just advice. from a good heart."

he waves the ghostface mask in front of your face and adds, "this? this ain't your business at all. you know what you know now, but you won't do shit 'bout it. y'know why?" he remains silent for a moment.

"'cause ya care 'bout your little friend. emma, right? and emma's with matt," he moves closer, whispering in your ear, a strange shiver runs through your body. "and matt knows 'bout everythin', sometimes even helps when shit gets bad. if you'll try snitch on me, you'll do the same to him, not only losing him as a friend, but also breakin' emma's heart." he pulls back to look at your shocked expression, the smirk back on his face, "would be a shame, don'cha think?"

you freeze, staring at him blankly and trying to process everything he just told you. his stupid smirk only made you feel more uneasy, but it was just a facade, there was still that irritation in his eyes.

chris was really desperate to make you to keep quiet. he didn't wanna do anything to you, but you were really dangerous for him now, especially with the hate you feel towards him.

"you're lying," you finally choked out, making him amused.

"oh, am i? or you jus' tryna make yourself feel better?"

"you're telling me matt knows?" the room is quiet for a moment as you two hold the eye contact, then chris responds with a nod.

"he found out himself. nick doesn't know," he anticipates your upcoming question. "and that's how it supposed to be. no one can know shit. you get me?"

you didn't know what to do but you nodded anyway, which surprised him that you complied so quickly. not that he's complaining, but you always put in more of the fight first. he scans your face, you could feel his breath on your cheek, that's how close you two still were.

"y'scared of me or some shit?" you frown at his stupid question and quickly say, "no."

but it was too quick.

"no?" he repeats mockingly, raising his eyebrow. "no," you say again, trying to sound convincing, but he just grins, throwing his mask away and taking the knife out of his pocket. you had no clue when would he even put it there, but that makes you gulp loud.

"good..." he clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, "s'good, y'know... means that you won't be scared if i do this..."

the moment he brushes your hair away from your face with his knife is causing your body to shiver again. you stand there, still trapped between chris and the wall, looking at him with wide eyes while he looks like he's having the time of his life.

"...or this..." he mutters, now brushing the hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck, and using the non-sharp side of the knife to run it down your skin to your collarbone.

the way your body started reacting to chris and his movements was completely unexpected for you. yes, you were practically frozen, but not from fear of him. it was because of what you felt at that moment. it was as if all your senses came back and helped you realize that your panties were sticking uncomfortably to your slickery folds.

he made you wet.

you were fucking turned on by all this talk, his closeness, the way he was pissed off at you and now touching you with his knife.

you prayed that he was unaware of what was happening to you. however, chris had his experience with women and the way you stay silent while he literally has his knife on you, definitely made him think. with your attitude, you would've pushed him away already and started yelling at him. but you were just letting him do it.

he wet his bottom lip with his tongue, looking down your body and back up. unfortunately for you, he noticed how your thighs were pressed together. his mind spinned.

"you, uh..." he tilts his head to the side, watching you closely. "this shit like... turns you on or somethin'?"

"what?" you choked out, the panic in your voice is telling him enough.

"oh, shit," chris laughed in disbelief with a raised eyebrow. "y'really are fuckin' crazy, huh?" his knife travels down between your breasts to your stomach. "what exactly is it, hm? the knife? the ghostface mask? me?"

you swallow and the moment his knife stops above the waistband of your sweatpants, you grab his wrist. "what?" he asks, "don't want me to find somethin'? it'd be fair like this, y'know... you know my secret, i'll know yours..."

his eyes flicker between your lips and eyes and it doesn't go unnoticed by you again. chris himself wasn't really sure what he was doing. the thought of you being affected by him like this was almost... unreal. he was intrigued. curious.

"bet you're soaked..." you cut him off, the desperation clear in your voice, "shut up."

"oh, she speaks," he says sarcastically, looking down at how tight your grip was on his wrist, your knuckles almost white, he smirked wider. "you might need a little help down there. don't ya think?"

"what?"

"you heard me," after these words, the silence between you grows with unexpected tension. the effect he had on you made you shiver, something that may have always been in the back of your mind but you never let come to light.

however, this time your control was weak and slipped away completely as your grip on his wrist loosened and you pulled away your hand, giving chris the answer he needed. you saw that he hesitated, but finally moved closer and pressed his lips into yours.

it took you a few seconds to even understand what was happening. then with a little nervousness you kissed him back. the feeling of you giving in to him made the slow, hesitant kiss suddenly more intense, his tongue running over your lower lip, as you felt his hand on the back of your neck.

kissing him was so much better than you could've imagined. not that you did...maybe a few times... maybe. probably by accident. yeah.

his lips were strangely soft for someone who was such a dick. you can hear the faint sound of the knife falling to the ground, then a moment later feel his hand on your hip, your fingers tangling into his hair. such nice hair.

he was completely lost in how good it felt, each second deepening the kiss, your tongues dancing together. then you feel his hardness against your thigh and despite your own need, it reminds you that it's chris you're kissing. the same chris who is always annoying you, is a nonchalant asshole and is someone you hate.

so you break the kiss, your hands slide down to his chest and gently push him away.

chris takes a step back, looking at you through half lidded eyes. both of you panting, the eye contact full of lust makes you immediately regretting what just happened.

"we shouldn't..." you mutter, the annoyance flickers in his expression for a moment at your words, but he hides it. "could've think of that before you kissed me back," at his answer, your cheeks creep up with heat.

he's never in his life seen you blush before. he hates himself for thinking you looked... cute.

"why the hell would you even do that?" your confusion makes him scoff and now he pulls away completely. "i can ask you the same thing," chris wasn't gonna let you blame this on him only.

you say stubbornly, "you did it first."

"doesn't matter," he mutters annoyed. "you kissed me back. y'want my reason? then tell me yours."

you seem almost offended by his words. he wanted a reason? you couldn't give him any, at that moment you couldn't think about anything other than the ache between your legs and his closeness. and you couldn't admit that kissing him and more, was something you thought about sometimes when you were lying alone in your room in the middle of the night.

"there's no reason," you mutter finally, getting another scoff in response.

"of course," he rolls his eyes. "s'whatever anyway. not like it was supposed to mean shit."

that kiss definitely didn't mean anything, you didn't even care. you both got carried away and did something you shouldn't have done.

but the fact was, that you both did like the kiss, and you were both turned on at that moment. he was angry with himself for even thinking about doing something about it, for you both to—

you, on the other hand, got scared how real it was getting when you felt his boner against your thigh. it freaked you out, that he was the one to made you wet, and that you wanted him to help you out.

chris could see it on your face now, the annoyance at yourself that he was turning you on, which made him pissed off for some reason.

"yeah, just moment of weakness," you cross your arms across your chest, looking away, almost trying to escape the intensity of his blue eyes.

he stares at you for a moment, clenching his jaw, "definitely. s'not like i want you anyway."

your gaze immediately comes back to him, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you while he grabs his stuff, shoving the knife into his pocket. "yeah, your pants tight?"

he huffs at your blunt sarcasm, "your panties wet?"

the look you give each other is so sharp you're sure it would cut through the air if it could.

"fuck you," you say. chris grins at that, though it doesn't reach his eyes, "bet you wanna."

you had to clench your hands into fists to hold yourself back from grabbing something and throwing at him, "really i do not."

"right," he nods, walking towards the door. looking over his shoulder, he shows up the ghostface mask, "one word 'bout it and s'gonna be bad for ya."

"just fucking go already."

and he does. not even a minute later you hear the front door slamming shut. you're fast to leave your bedroom and go lock them, making sure he actually left.

you stand there for a moment, resting your back against the cool wood, running your finger across your lips. then you grimace at the discomfort you felt between your legs, desperate for friction.

"what the actual fuck?"

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brunchable · 4 months ago

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LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader [18+]

Part II

Part One | Part Three Words: 12.2K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence (causing 1 death), Action (Fighting Scenes: With Steve and Tony), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Smut with The Winter Soldier. Choking, Spanking, Mild Degredation? Unprotected piv sex, hair-pulling, dirty-talking. Sneak Peak: “So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.” A/N: The council has spoken and they said include the Bucky seggs scene. If you don't want to read that part, then just skip it? Let me know if you want to be tagged, yes? Thank you.

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

The bar in Brooklyn was filled with the sounds of celebration. Soldiers clinked their glasses together, sharing stories of their latest victory, their laughter and cheers filling the air. But at a small table in the corner, Steve Rogers sat in silence, a drink in his hand that he hadn’t touched. The noise around him felt distant, muffled by the weight of his thoughts.

Bucky made his way through the crowd, a smile tugging at his lips as he spotted Steve. The relief of seeing his friend safe brought a warmth to his chest. He dropped into the chair beside Steve, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Steve! Man, I can’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when she finds out we’re back. She’s probably worried sick.”

Steve’s smile faltered, his grip tightening around his glass. He took a deep breath, the words he knew he had to say caught in his throat.

“Yeah… she always did worry,” he replied, his tone withdrawn.

“I can see it now—she’s gonna give us hell, but she’ll be glad to see us, especially you.” Bucky didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the moment.

Steve forced a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The knot in his stomach tightened as Bucky spoke, and he was afraid to confess, afraid of Bucky's reaction. He stared at the drink in his hand, the weight of his guilt growing heavier by the second.

Bucky finally noticed the tension in Steve’s posture, the way he avoided eye contact. His smile faded, replaced by concern. “Steve… What's going on? Something's bothering you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his lips twitching as he shook his head, “Bucky… something happened before I left for the rescue.”

“Okay?” Bucky furrowed his eyes, a couple of scenarios reeling in his head, “Did you get Y/N pregnant?”

“What? No…” Steve shook his head vigorously, although he'd prefer to be in that situation compared to this.

“Then what happened?” Bucky’s concern deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in.

Steve hesitated, the shame now joined his emotions list. “Y/N and I… we had a fight. A bad one.”

“A fight?” Bucky echoed, a bit confused since a fight is normal in relationships. “About what?”

Steve struggled to find the words, but there’s no turning back. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I questioned her loyalty. I… I let jealousy get the better of me. I asked her if she was only with me out of pity, or if… if maybe she had feelings for you instead.”

“Jesus, Steve…” he muttered, blinking his eyes in disappointment and Steve’s head dropped, his shame too heavy to face Bucky directly. Bucky stared at Steve, the shock giving way to a rising tide of anger. “You've got to be out of your mind if you really believe that.”

“I know, but… at the time, I was blinded.”

“Steve, do you remember when you first got that rejection letter from the army, and you were down in the dumps? Y/N was the one who picked you back up. She stayed with you for hours, talking you through it. And when you were sick with pneumonia, she practically moved in with you to help take care of you. She barely slept for days nursing you.” Bucky leaned forward, his voice growing more intense as he fought to control his emotions.

Steve nodded slowly, each memory a painful reminder of how much he had taken for granted, “I know, Bucky. I know she was always there for me.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, figuring out how to spit out what he wanted to say.

“And I’ll admit it okay?” Bucky continued, his eyes looking anywhere but Steve. “I… I love Y/N. But she was too busy to notice because her heart was yours. Devotedly.”

Steve felt a squeeze in his chest by the shock of Bucky’s confession. He stared at Bucky, wide-eyed and stunned, struggling to process the words. He knew Bucky liked you but not love.

Steve’s chest tightened, the weight of Bucky’s words pressing down on him. “I was wrong. But that night… I couldn’t see past my own jealousy and fear.”

“Stop making excuses,” Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration growing. “So what happened? You just let her walk away?”

Steve’s voice trembled as he admitted the truth. “No. I walked away. I left her alone, and in the morning her mother called me. She disappeared, and it’s because of me.”

Bucky’s world seemed to spin as the full impact of Steve’s words hit him like a truck.

“Gone?” he repeated, allowing the word to sink in. “What do you mean by gone?”

“She's missing, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice thick with regret. “I tried to find her, but… she was just gone. And it’s my fault. I—”

Bucky staggered back, a mixture of emotions crashing over him like a wave. “How could you do that, Steve? After everything… how could you leave her like that? And then, in the midst of all this… how could you even dance with that fucking agent lady?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly at Bucky’s outburst, the raw anger in his friend’s voice catching him off guard. “Bucky, I—”

But Bucky wasn’t finished. His emotions boiled over, and before Steve could say another word, Bucky slammed his fist down on the table, causing the glasses to rattle. His voice shook with animosity and he leaned in closer, his eyes blazing.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to! But now… now you don’t actually get the chance. Now we both have to live with the fact that she’s missing? maybe dead? And for what?”

Steve flinched at the word, ‘dead’. Steve’s head dropped, his shoulders slumping under the crushing weight of his guilt.

Bucky couldn’t process it, couldn’t reconcile the Steve he knew with the one who had let you slip away. He pushed back from the table, shaking his head in disbelief as the pain and anger twisted inside him.

“Get out of my way.” Bucky pushed a drunkard out of his way and stomped off.

The noise of the bar faded into the background as Bucky walked away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the one person who had always been there for both of them was now gone. And as Steve sat alone, the victory they had fought so hard for felt hollow, drowned out by the guilt and loss that now ate him from the inside, out.

× × × ×

Steve and Natasha drove through the busy streets, the cityscape bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The mission had hit a temporary lull. Natasha, ever the observant one, noticed the contemplative look on Steve’s face as he navigated the streets.

Steve had just found out that Bucky is alive and it was a lot for him to take in. Steve's mind was a storm—he was at some point relieved he's alive but at the same time, he wasn’t. How was it possible? His best friend, the man he had mourned for decades, was not only alive but had been turned into a weapon by HYDRA. The thought alone made his stomach churn.

He remembered the nights he and Bucky would wander the streets, talking about their dreams, their future—an uncertain future that had been stolen from them by the war. Now, everything felt different, tainted by the knowledge of what had become of Bucky.

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as a wave of guilt washed over him. He had failed Bucky—failed to save him, failed to protect him. And now, Bucky was out there, a shadow of the man he once was, driven by forces beyond his control. The weight of that failure pressed down on Steve’s chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

"So," Natasha started, her tone light but probing, "anyone special back home? Or are you still dodging those office setups with Agent 13?"

Steve chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "She’s nice, but… I’m not really looking right now."

"Come on, Steve. A guy like you—there’s gotta be someone," Natasha pressed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or was there someone? Back in the day."

Steve’s smile faded a bit, and he glanced out the window, his mind clearly elsewhere. Natasha immediately picked up on the change in his demeanor.

"There was someone," he admitted quietly, his tone a mixture of fondness and regret.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Now, this sounds interesting. Tell me about her."

Steve hesitated, the memories of the past tugging at him. "Her name was Y/N. We were together before the war—before I was Captain."

"Ooh, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. What happened?" Natasha's expression softened.

Steve sighed, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "I let her go. After I got the serum, I… well, I let it get to my head."

"What do you mean?” Natasha turned slightly in her seat, giving him her full attention.

Steve exhaled slowly, he felt like he's reliving the massive mistake of his life. "I started getting attention from girls—more than I ever had before. And I liked it. I let my brand-new image get to my head, and started to think maybe I deserved it after everything I went through. But it wasn’t real, and I lost sight of what was important. I pushed Y/N away, even though she was the one who had been there for me before everything."

Natasha clicked her tongue in disapproval, but her eyes softened with understanding. "Steve, you were young, and everything changed overnight. That kind of shift… it’s hard not to get swept up in it."

Steve nodded, but the regret in his eyes was unmistakable. "I know, but that’s no excuse. I let her down. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late. She was gone, disappeared without a trace."

"Did you try to find her?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle.

"I did," Steve said, his voice thick with emotion, like he was reliving the time where he scoured every nook and cranny of Brooklyn for her. "I tried everything I could, but she was just… gone. Her mother called me, told me Y/N had disappeared the morning after I walked away. I can’t help but think that if I’d done things differently, she’d still be here."

Natasha reached over, placing a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. "Steve, you can’t carry that guilt forever. You made mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of forgiveness."

Steve’s expression remained pained, his eyes filled with regret. "I wish I could go back and make it right, Nat. She deserved better than what I gave her."

Natasha gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You can’t change the past, Steve, but you can learn from it. If she’s still alive, you owe it to both of you to try and make things right."

Steve looked at Natasha, his gratitude clear, but the weight of his past still heavy on his shoulders. "If she is, I just don’t know if she’d ever forgive me. Or if I even deserve it."

Natasha offered a small, understanding smile. "Forgiveness is a two-way street, Steve. You’ll never know unless you try."

Steve just nodded.

As they continued driving, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, but Steve’s thoughts remained on Y/N. The memories, the regrets—they all mingled together, creating a complex web of emotions he couldn’t easily untangle.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with a teasing jab. "So, if she’s alive? Are you going to apologize first or let her throw the first punch?"

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Knowing her, even with old age, she’d probably punch me first."

Natasha grinned, glad to see a bit of the tension lift. "Well, just remember—if you need a wingman, I’m here. But you’re on your own with the punching part."

× × × ×

The atmosphere was thick with tension as Alexander Pierce, the Secretary of HYDRA, stood before the Winter Soldier, his expression a mask of cold displeasure. Bucky stood at attention, his face impassive.

Pierce’s voice was low, laced with barely concealed anger. “I asked you for a report, Soldier. Why didn’t you eliminate the target?”

Bucky remained silent, his gaze unfocused, as though he were looking through Pierce rather than at him. This slight defiance, whether intentional or not, only served to infuriate Pierce further. He raised his hand, intending to deliver a harsh blow to snap the Winter Soldier back into obedience.

But before his hand could connect, it was caught mid-air, gripped tightly by another—your hand. Your fingers squeezed Pierce’s wrist with a force that made him wince, the sound of bones grinding beneath your grip.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said, your voice dangerously calm. The room seemed to grow colder as you stepped closer, your presence commanding the attention of everyone around you.

Pierce’s eyes flickered from stunned to anger as he looked down at the woman who dared to intervene. “You dare—”

“I dare,” you interrupted, your smirk widening as you tighten your grip, watching with satisfaction as Pierce’s face contorted in pain. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Pierce. The Winter Soldier is valuable, yes, but don’t forget who has the real power here.”

The room held its breath as Pierce glared at you, his anger simmering. His attempt to maintain control was slipping, and you could see it in his eyes—the fear, the uncertainty. But it wasn't enough. You wanted to remind him, and everyone else in the room, who actually had the power.

You pretended to release his wrist only to grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Pierce gasped, his hands instinctively reaching up to claw at your grip, but it was futile. You held him there, suspended in the air, your eyes cold as you watched the panic rise in his eyes.

Around you, HYDRA operatives tensed, their hands moving toward their weapons. The sound of guns being cocked filled the air, and your ears caught it immediately. Instead of flinching or backing down, a low, rumbling chuckle escaped your lips, starting deep in your chest. Your laugh began to rise. It was a sound that started soft, almost like a private joke shared with yourself, but it quickly grew louder, filling the room with a sinister, echoing resonance.

It wasn’t just a laugh; it was a declaration. A reminder of just how dangerous you were. The agents hesitated, their fingers hovering uncertainty over the triggers. They knew what that laugh meant. That you're a woman not to be trifled with—this was a predator, toying with her prey.

As your laughter crescendoed, it took on a twisted, almost gleeful quality, as though you were genuinely delighted by the absurdity of the moment.

“Guns? Really?” you said, your voice dripping with mockery. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. Let’s see who’s faster.”

There was a pause, a moment where time seemed to stand still as the agents exchanged nervous glances. None of them dared to act, not with the lethal reputation you had earned within HYDRA.

Just as the tension reached its peak, your hand moved in a blur. Before anyone could react, you drew a dagger from your side and hurled it with deadly precision. The blade found its mark, embedding itself deep into the skull of one of the agents who had been foolish enough to aim his gun at you. The agent crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

The remaining operatives stared in shock, their fingers frozen on the triggers, the reality of the situation crashing down on them like a ton of bricks. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your voice, now cold and taunting.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, your tone mocking as you glanced at the other agents. “I thought you were going to shoot me?”

No one moved. The fear in the room was heavy, each agent knowing that a single wrong move would mean their death. They were outmatched, outclassed, and they knew it.

You turned your attention back to Pierce, who was still struggling in your grip. His face had gone red, his eyes wide with fear as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

"You think you're in control here, Pierce?" you asked, your voice low and menacing. "You think you can order us around like one of your lackeys? Let me make this clear—I'm not just a weapon you can point and shoot. I'm the one who decides where the bullets land."

With a flick of your wrist, you threw him across the room, watching as he crashed into a table, sending papers and files scattering to the floor. Pierce groaned in pain, clutching his throat as he struggled to regain his breath and composure. But the fear in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Pierce’s expression darkened, but he knew when to back down. He rubbed his neck with a grimace. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, he's still actually talking?

“I don’t think, Pierce. I know.”

For a brief moment, your eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. But in the end, it was Pierce who looked away. He knew better than to push you further.

You turned your attention back to Bucky, your expression softening ever so slightly as you reached out and gently caressed his face. The touch was light, almost tender, and as you did so, a name slipped from your lips in a whisper, one that seemed to stir something deep within Bucky.

“Bucky…”

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes focused, the faintest glimmer of recognition flashing across his face. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had appeared, and his expression returned to the blank slate that HYDRA had molded him into.

You let your hand fall away, a hint of sadness in your eyes before you masked it with your usual cold demeanor. You turned back to Pierce, your smirk returning.

“Remember your place, Mr. Secretary. For someone using us as a tool to make ends meet, I expect a little more. . . respect.”

With that, you turned on your heel, motioning for Bucky to follow you. He did so without hesitation, leaving Pierce and the operatives standing in stunned silence.

You and Bucky reached the door, then you paused, turning back to Pierce with a final, icy smile. “And as for Rogers… I’ll deal with him personally.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed, his anger barely contained, but he said nothing as you and the Winter Soldier disappeared through the door.

When the door closed behind you, Pierce’s anger boiled over, but he knew he had to tread carefully. You were not someone to be crossed lightly, and if he wanted to keep control of HYDRA’s greatest assets, he would need to play his cards right.

But the look in your eyes, the way you had protected the Winter Soldier—it left him with an uneasy feeling. There was more to you than met the eye, and Pierce couldn’t shake the feeling that you were a force that even HYDRA might not be able to contain.

× × × ×

The sound of his powerful thrusts filled the room, each one accompanied by a wet, sensual sound as your pussy eagerly welcomed him inside. With every thrust his grip on your hip tightens, his metallic hand will leave a bruise but you don’t care.

His other hand closed around your throat too roughly, pressing the hardened ridges of the larynx against the epiglottis. A spasm in his fingers was all the warning you received before they clamped down, forcing more pressure.

“Yes, just like that.” you moaned wantonly, you whimpered as everything tightened, the sweet tension built from the deep rhythmic strokes. You were gasping and frantic, pumping your hips. Reaching between your legs, you rubbed your clit with the pads of your fingers, trying to hasten your climax.

“Not so tough now, huh?” The winter soldier growls, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His thrusts grew more intense, his voice becoming more primal. "You want it harder?" he asked, his voice dripping with seduction.

You could only manage a desperate nod as the pleasure intensified. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

Bucky's grip on your neck loosened, allowing a cold rush of air to fill your burning lungs. But there was no time to recover—before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, his arm coiling around your waist as he hauled you up on your knees.

SMACK!

He slapped your ass so hard you had a hard time suppressing a shriek. Bucky's hand tangled in your hair once more, yanking your head back until it was level with his. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he hovered menacingly behind you.

"Don't you feel like a slut, in here with me, getting fucked, while those morons think you’re indestructible?”

SMACK!

"Answer me!" he growls, smacking you more in between, his grip on your hair tightened, it's beginning to hurt your scalp.

"Yes," you moaned, so turned on that you could have come at any moment.

"Yes what?” he says through his gritted teeth, smacking you harder that it echoes in the room.

“Yes I feel like a slut.” you choked out with a smile on your lips.

“Good. You're going to come all over this dick, saying my name, yes?” he said, slapping your clit with his cock. With your thighs spread wide, the tip of his cock presses your entrance. The smooth head slides between your folds and rubs against your clit, intensifying your arousal.

“Yes.” You moan, your head arching back, and he slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch.

You gasp as he goes deeper, filling you again with his thickness. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation.

He begins to rock back and forth, causing his shaft to move within you ever so slightly, sending waves of heat throughout your body. However, each movement also serves as a reminder of the earlier beating, and a pained moan escapes your throat as your sore buttocks rub against his hard thighs.

He devours you with his kiss, swallowing your whimpers, his mouth now consuming yours with unrestrained hunger.

His hips rocking harder, adding to the pressure building within your core, "You like that, don't you?" he growled.

"Mmmm." you could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure that consumed you. Your own fingers assaulting your clit trying to match his rhythm.

Yanking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts, Bucky battered your tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, his gaze dark and possessive, his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit your cervix. A trembling moan left you, the friction of his drives stirring your never-sated need to be fucked senseless by him.

Long strokes. Pounding, pile driving impacts. Your pussy was so wet there was hardly any friction in or out, just the brutal slapping as he jackhammered you pussy remorselessly. Not fucking. Mating. Breeding.

His other hand moves down your body, his hand spreading your wetness through your stretched slit before pressing his fingers moving small circular motions to gripping your clit between his thumb and index finger.

“J-James—O-h-h, F-u-c-k” you muttered in a broken moan as you flew apart.

Your orgasm is so strong, you can’t even make a sound. For a few blissful seconds, you're completely swamped by pleasure, by ecstasy so intense that it’s almost agonizing. Your body shudders uncontrollably under his body, your muscles clamping down his cock tightly, while your hips gyrate as his cock continues to pound you. Your movements trigger his own release.

“I'm damn close—fuck, I'm coming.” The sensation of you milking his cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through him, hurling him in to reach his peak. Groaning harshly, he grinds his pelvis against you, “Oh I'm coming.”

“Yes! Fill me up—give it to me inside.”

Muscles rippled and bulged along his shoulders and quads as he leaned forward, grinding every millimeter of thickness and length into you. A rough, guttural growl rumbled through your bones. Jet after jet of hot, potent cum deluged your ravaged, desperately spasming walls.

“Ready for more?” he whispers in your ear, his cock barely softening within you. He kisses your earlobe, and the tender gesture is such a contrast to what he’d just done that you feel disoriented. That wasn't normal winter soldier behavior.

× × × ×

You sat straddling Bucky on the leather couch, your breathing still heavy from fucking three times in a row. You began to move away, Bucky’s hands, which had been resting on your hips, suddenly tightened their grip.

You felt the change before you saw it—It was subtle at first, the flicker in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as his gaze became focused, sharp. But there was something else too, something far away in his stare, as if he were trying to grasp onto a memory just out of reach.

"The man at the bridge, who was he?" Bucky's voice was low, but it carried a weight that made you pause.

You had seen these moments of clarity before, rare glimpses of the man he used to be before HYDRA twisted his mind. They never lasted long, a fleeting reminder of the person buried beneath the Winter Soldier’s conditioning. You knew what HYDRA expected of you—what Pierce demanded—but as you looked into Bucky’s eyes, your best friend from a time long past, so lost and vulnerable, you hesitated.

“You met him this week on another assignment.” you replied, trying to keep your voice detached.

“I knew him.” His voice was stronger this time, he was certain.

“Look, Pierce is gonna want us to push it tomorrow—” You shifted slightly, trying to pull away from him, but Bucky’s forced you down on his lap, keeping you in place.

“But I knew him.”

You sighed deeply, frustrated. Grabbing his face roughly, you forced him to look at you, your fingers digging into his skin. "Listen to me, whatever is going on in your head, I need you to put it aside. If Pierce finds out about this, he's going to put you through electroshock to reset you, and I can’t let that happen.”

Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything, that made sense. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You released your grip on his face, your fingers trailing through his hair as you brushed his brown locks out of the way. "Old sentiments," you muttered, the words bitter on your tongue.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie, a half-truth.

It wasn’t just sentiment, though, was it? It was the guilt, the buried rage at everything HYDRA had turned you into. You hated Pierce, despised SHIELD, and the mere thought of Steve brought a twisted knot of anger and betrayal to your chest. But Bucky—Bucky didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through, not after being twisted into something unrecognizable by the same people who had destroyed your life.

You weren’t doing this because you were good. You weren’t a hero. You were still the same girl driven by anger and resentment toward the world. But Bucky, he was the only piece of your past that still mattered, the only thing left that was worth saving.

And so, as you looked into his confused, lost eyes, you made a silent promise. You would free him from this nightmare, only because he was your friend.

“Just trust me,” you whispered, your voice softer now. “In due time, you will get the answers you want to hear.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, he nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze, “I trust you.”

The fragments of his past flickered like dying embers in the recesses of his mind. He couldn't fully grasp who he was before HYDRA, couldn't make sense of the flashes of memory that haunted him in the rare moments of clarity. But there was something about you—something that tugged at his very soul, making him feel connected in a way that defied explanation.

He was a weapon, a tool shaped and controlled by forces he barely understood, yet whenever he looked at you, something within him stirred. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—but something deeper, something that made him feel almost human again. His heart remembered you, even when his mind could not.

Why did he feel so drawn to you, so protective, so...fond? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t have memories of you, no context for these emotions, yet they were there, strong and insistent. He was the Winter Soldier—cold, detached, and efficient—but around you, those walls seemed to crack, letting in warmth he didn’t understand.

His hands trailed up the small of your back and he found himself leaning in, compelled by a force he couldn’t resist. His lips found yours, and the kiss that followed was as much a search for answers as it was an expression of the remnants of love he has for you. He felt the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips, and momentarily, it all made sense.

× × × ×

The streets were slick with rain, the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement as Steve, Natasha, and Sam moved through the shadows. The mission was simple—take down the HYDRA operatives before they could unleash chaos. But nothing about this night was going according to plan.

A sudden blur of movement caught Steve’s attention, and he spun around just in time to raise his shield, blocking a powerful kick aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through the vibranium, the sheer force behind the blow surprising him. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary agent.

His attacker wore black from head to toe, a tactical mask obscuring your face, a hood pulled low over your eyes. Steve couldn’t see your face, but he could tell from the fluidity of their movements that you were highly trained—possibly even on par with him.

Without giving him a moment’s rest, you launched into a series of rapid strikes. Steve’s body reacted on instinct, parrying and blocking with precision honed from years of combat. But the ferocity and speed of the attacks were relentless, forcing him back step by step.

The fight was a brutal dance of skill and power. You used every inch of the narrow alley to your advantage, bouncing off walls, using the slippery ground to slide under Steve’s defenses, and striking at vulnerable points with deadly accuracy. Steve swung his shield in a wide arc, aiming to knock his opponent off balance, but then you ducked under it effortlessly, coming up with a knee strike that connected solidly with his midsection.

Steve grunted, the air forced from his lungs as he staggered back, but he quickly recovered, slamming his shield forward to create some distance between you. You leaped back with cat-like agility, landing silently several feet away. For a brief moment, you paused, tilting your head as if assessing him, before darting forward again with even more speed.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve growled, his voice low and filled with frustration as he swung his shield to intercept the incoming attack.

You didn’t respond, merely twisting your body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the shield before delivering a roundhouse kick aimed at Steve’s head. He barely had time to duck, feeling the rush of air as the boot sailed over his head.

In response, Steve drove his shoulder into your midsection, attempting to drive you into the wall, but you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip over him and deliver a brutal elbow strike to the back of his head. Steve stumbled forward, momentarily disoriented, but he quickly spun around, his shield raised defensively.

You advanced again, this time producing a pair of combat knives from your belt. The glint of the blades under the streetlights was enough to make Steve’s grip on his shield tighten.

“Knives, really?” Steve muttered, more to himself than to his opponent. He had faced down armies with just his fists, but this fight felt different—more personal, more dangerous.

You didn’t waste time with a response, instead rushing forward with both blades aimed at his vital points. Steve deflected the first strike with his shield, twisting his body to avoid the second, but you were relentless. You pressed the attack, slashing and stabbing with surgical precision, each strike aimed to cripple or kill.

Steve retaliated with a powerful swing of his shield, the force behind it enough to send most opponents flying, but you anticipated the move. You ducked low, sweeping your legs out to knock Steve off his feet. Steve managed to stay upright, but the move forced him to lose his balance, and you took advantage, driving one of the knives toward his chest.

In a split-second reaction, Steve angled his shield to deflect the blade, but the impact sent vibrations up his arm, nearly causing him to drop it. You didn’t let up, following up with a swift knee strike to his ribs, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.

Breathing heavily, Steve tried to reassess the situation. This was no ordinary operative—this was someone who had been trained specifically to counter him. And you were good. Too good.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Steve growled, pushing forward with renewed determination.

He swung his shield with all his might, aiming to knock you off balance, but you were ready. You caught the edge of the shield with both hands, the impact skidding you back several feet, your boots screeching against the wet pavement. With a grunt, you twirled in the air, using the momentum to hurl the shield back at Steve.

Steve barely had time to react, catching the shield just before it collided with his face. But the force behind it was immense, pushing him back a few steps.

Before he could press his advantage, you were on him again, this time using a combination of grappling techniques and martial arts to try and subdue him. You were quick, switching between jabs, hooks, and submission holds with fluid precision. At one point, you managed to lock Steve’s arm behind his back, twisting it at a painful angle as you tried to force him to the ground.

Steve gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to go down. He planted his feet firmly and used his strength to break the hold, swinging his elbow back to catch the figure in the side. The blow connected, but you barely flinched, countering with a vicious headbutt that left Steve momentarily dazed.

You went for another knife strike, this time aiming for his throat. Steve caught your wrist mid-strike, twisting it with enough force to make you drop the knife. But instead of recoiling in pain, you used the momentum to flip Steve over your shoulder, slamming him into the ground with a force that left him gasping.

He struggled to get up, his vision swimming from the impact. You stood over him, a boot pressing down on his chest, pinning him in place. In a move born of desperation, Steve reached up, grabbing the edge of your mask and tearing it off.

Time seemed to slow as the mask came away, revealing the face beneath. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

It was you, all along.

The world came to a stop as he stared up at you, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. You—alive, but different. Your eyes, once filled with warmth and love, were now cold and distant, filled with a darkness he had never seen before.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, shock and disbelief flooding his features.

For a split second, your cold facade cracked, a flash of recognition and pain crossing your features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, your expression hardening once more. You took advantage of Steve’s shock, delivering a swift punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

Before Steve could fully recover, you turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, moving with a speed that left Steve struggling to keep up. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding as he chased after you, but by the time he reached the door, you were already gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

Steve stood in the doorway, his heart heavy with the realization that the woman he had once loved was now his enemy. The Y/N he knew was gone, replaced by someone hardened by pain and anger.

× × × ×

Steve stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You're alive—and he let you disappear into the night, leaving him with more questions than answers. Before he could fully process what he had seen, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Cap, we’ve got a situation here,” Tony’s voice was tense, though laced with his usual sarcasm. “I’ve got a guest who’s a little too enthusiastic for my taste. Could use some backup.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Tony, who is it?”

“Not sure, but she’s got one hell of a right hook and a serious attitude problem,” Tony replied, the sound of metal clashing and blasts firing in the background. “And oh, did I mention she can jump like the Hulk?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who Tony was dealing with. Without wasting another second, he took off in the direction of the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tony, clad in his Iron Man suit, was locked in a fierce aerial battle with you, who was now maskless and fully visible. Your face was set in grim determination as you leapt into the air, your powerful legs propelling you high enough to meet Tony’s flight path. Each of your strikes was calculated, aimed at the joints and weaker points of the suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Wonder Woman!” Tony said, dodging a particularly brutal punch that nearly dented his chest plate. “I’m not a piñata, you know!”

Your expression remained cold as you twisted in midair, avoiding a repulsor blast and landing a solid kick against Tony’s side, sending him spiraling briefly before he regained control.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Tony called out as he righted himself, flying in a tight circle around you before firing off another series of repulsor blasts. You dodged most of them with ease, but one caught you in the shoulder, causing you to grimace slightly. You recovered quickly, though, using the momentum to propel your back into the air, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s faceplate.

Tony barely had time to dodge, the blow glancing off his helmet with enough force to crack the HUD display.

“Okay, now you’re just being rude!” he said sarcastically, as he adjusted his flight path to put some distance between you.

You didn’t give him much room to breathe, though. With a powerful leap, you closed the gap between you, grabbing onto Tony’s arm and using your weight to pull him down. Both of you crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, the pavement cracking beneath you. Tony groaned as he struggled to push you off, but your strength was overwhelming, even for the suit’s enhanced capabilities.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Tony grunted as he activated the suit’s thrusters, attempting to blast them both back into the air. You held on tightly, twisting his arm at an awkward angle that caused the servos in the suit to whine in protest.

“You talk too much,” You finally replied, your voice flat and cold as you released your grip on his arm and delivered a sharp kick to his midsection, sending him flying backward.

Tony recovered mid-flight, his repulsors flaring as he hovered a few feet off the ground, rubbing at the dent you'd left in his side.

“Yeah, well, it’s part of my charm,” he shot back, firing off another barrage of missiles in your direction.

You dodged with an almost effortless grace, leaping into the air once more and landing on top of a nearby building. You crouched low, your eyes locked on Tony as you prepared for the next move.

Tony hovered in place, watching you closely. “Seriously, what’s your deal? We just met, and you’re already throwing me around like a rag doll.”

Your expression didn’t change as you suddenly launched yourself off the building, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s chest. This time, though, you didn’t hold back. The impact was tremendous, sending Tony crashing through a parked car and skidding across the pavement.

Groaning, Tony pushed himself up, his HUD flickering from the damage. “Okay, that’s it. Playtime’s over.”

He activated the suit’s full power, repulsors blazing as he rocketed back toward you. The two of you clashed mid-air, exchanging blows at a speed and intensity that would have shattered ordinary opponents. But through it all, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren't giving it your all. There was a calculated precision in your strikes, as if you were testing him rather than trying to finish him off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trading hits, Tony managed to grab hold of your wrists, locking them in place with the suit’s enhanced grip. He lifted you off the ground, his repulsors ready to fire point-blank, “End of the line, lady. Let’s talk.”

You didn’t resist. Instead, you looked up at him with an unreadable expression, your body suddenly going limp.

“Fine,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “You win.”

Tony blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

You simply nodded, allowing yourself to be restrained by the suit’s mechanisms.

“Take me in,” you said, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’m not going to fight anymore.”

Tony frowned, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, but he didn’t press the issue. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere safe and figure out what the hell is going on.”

As Tony started to descend, Steve finally arrived on the scene, his shield at the ready. He took in the sight of Tony holding you, your face calm despite the situation, and his heart sank.

Tony looked at Steve and couldn’t help but say, “Well, look who decided to show up. Don’t worry, I had everything under control—just took a brief break to contemplate my life choices while getting pummeled.”

Your lips twitched a small smile at his comment.

Steve caught his breath as he assessed the situation. “Better late than never, right?”

“Next time, maybe give me a heads-up when you’re gonna leave me to play the lone hero. Could’ve at least brought popcorn to watch the show.” Tony shook his head.

Steve stared at your face, his eyes taking in every detail, even rubbing his eyes to make sure this was real. Tony furrowed his brows at Steve and exchanged glances between the two of you.

“So,” Tony finally broke the silence, his tone shifting to something more serious, “are we bringing her in, or are we just gonna stand here and play the ‘who blinks first’?”

× × × ×

The soft hum of the Helicarrier's engines was the only sound as the team gathered around the large, circular table. A few faces were still unfamiliar with each other—Natasha, Clint, and Sam exchanged glances as they settled into their seats. Tony, leaning back casually, eyed Steve, who stood apart from the group, a heavy tension radiating from him. It was clear that something weighed heavily on the Captain’s mind, something that no one had dared to address yet.

In the center of the table, a holographic screen flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow over the faces of the Avengers. Fury stood at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Listen up," Fury began, his voice commanding everyone's attention. "We've got a new player on the board, and she’s every bit as dangerous as the Winter Soldier."

With a tap of his finger, Fury brought up a series of video feeds on the screen, all showing various skirmishes involving HYDRA forces. But the common thread through each of these battles was a single figure: you.

The hologram shifted, showing footage of you in action, moving through a battlefield. Bullets ricocheted off you, seemingly ineffective as you advanced on your targets with single-minded precision. The final clip showed you taking down an entire squadron of soldiers without breaking a sweat, your movements efficient and deadly.

"Meet HYDRA's new secret weapon," Fury continued, his tone grim. "We don’t have a lot of intel on her, but what we do know isn’t good. She’s been operating under the radar, but make no mistake—she’s a force to be reckoned with. No hesitation, no mercy."

The profile flashed on the screen, sparse and incomplete:

Name: Unknown Age: Unknown Origin: Siberia

The room was silent as the team absorbed the information. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she studied the footage, while Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, deep in thought. Tony looked intrigued, his mind already racing with calculations and possibilities.

“She looks like she’s trained well. This isn’t someone who just stumbled into HYDRA’s ranks. She’s had years of experience.” Natasha commented before shifting her gaze to Fury.

“Years of brainwashing, you mean,” Tony added, his tone filled with dry sarcasm. “Another weaponized human for us to deal with. Just what we needed.”

Clint leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied your image. "She doesn’t look like she’s been held against her will. If anything, she seems... committed.”

Fury nodded, his expression steely. “Our priority is figuring out her next move, because that,” he pointed at your live footage in the cell sitting calmly, “is not the type to surrender easily.”

Steve remained silent throughout the briefing, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the image of you on the screen. Fury’s words were sinking in, each one a painful reminder of how far you had fallen.

"We’ve already got her in a secure cell," Fury continued, his tone brokering no argument. "But I don’t think she’s going to stay quiet for long. Our best bet is to find out everything we can about her—where she’s been, what HYDRA’s done to her—and see if we can get ahead of this. We’re playing catch-up, and we can’t afford to stay behind for long.”

“How do you know if she’s going to cooperate?” Clint asked.

"We don’t," Fury admitted, his tone grim. "But that’s why we’re not taking any chances. She's locked down tighter than Fort Knox, and we're monitoring her every move.”

Fury’s gaze shifted to Steve, who had remained silent, staring intently at the image of you in the cell. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited to see if Steve would speak.

Finally, Fury broke the silence, addressing the room at large. "We don’t know what HYDRA’s endgame is here, but we do know they’ve put a lot of resources into this. We can’t underestimate her, and we can’t assume she’s alone. There’s more going on here, and we need to be prepared for anything.”

The team just nodded in unison.

Fury’s gaze swept across the team before he asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. "So, who wants the privilege of talking to her?"

The room fell silent as everyone considered the gravity of the situation. Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts telling her that this conversation would be more dangerous than any fight. Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge, but before anyone could volunteer, Steve finally spoke up, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

"I’ll do it," Steve said, his gaze never leaving the screen.

Tony glanced at Steve, then back at the image on the screen, and with a smirk, he added, "Well, she made Cap make friends with the floor, so I’ll come with. Can’t let him have all the fun, right?”

Steve shot Tony a look, but there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and having Tony there might just make it a bit more bearable.

× × × ×

The interrogation room was cold, the walls made of reinforced steel, with a single table and three chairs bolted to the floor. The whole room was lit up, leaving no shadows around the room. You sat in one of the chairs, your hands cuffed securely in front of you, though the cuffs seemed more like a formality than a real deterrent.

Steve and Tony stood outside the observation window, looking in at you. Steve’s expression was tense, his eyes fixed on you, while Tony had a thoughtful look on his face, his usual humor subdued.

"You ready for this?" Tony asked, his voice unusually serious as he glanced at Steve.

Steve nodded, but there was a storm of emotions churning beneath his calm exterior. "Let’s get it over with."

They stepped into the room, the door closing behind them with a heavy thud. You didn’t look up as they entered, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you, as if you were lost in thought. But as they took their seats across from you, you slowly lifted your eyes, a faint, unreadable smile playing on your lips.

"Captain," you said, your voice cool and calm. "Mr. Stark."

“Hello Unknown—”

"Y/N," Steve replied, his tone heavy with the weight of your shared history.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up slightly at Steve’s use of your name, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his eyes flicked over to Steve with a look of mild surprise.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you sized each other up, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, Tony broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that didn’t quite match the situation.

"So, Y/N," Tony began, quoting your name with his fingers, his tone conversational, almost friendly. "You know, I’m usually the one asking the questions, but let’s mix it up a bit. Why don’t you tell us why you decided to let us catch you?"

You raised an eyebrow at Tony’s question, your smile widening just a fraction. "Did I let you catch me? Or did you just get lucky?"

Tony smirked, twirling a fork he had slipped from the dining area between his fingers. "Oh, I don’t believe in luck. You’re too good to get caught by accident. So, what’s the plan? What’s HYDRA up to this time?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know?” You tilted your head slightly, considering your response.

Steve’s jaw clenched at your evasiveness, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke. "Y/N, we need to know what HYDRA’s planning. You can stop this. Whatever they’ve done to you, we can help."

Tony’s eyes shifted between you and Steve, the curiosity deepening. He still didn’t say anything about Steve using your name, but it was clear he had taken note of it.

You turned your gaze to Steve, staring daggers into him. "Help? Like you helped Bucky?" The question was pointed, sharp enough to draw blood.

Steve flinched, but he didn’t back down. “We’re trying to save you.”

“Save me?” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “You can’t even save yourselves.”

Tony cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “Speaking of saving, I’ve been wondering about something.” He held up the fork, “Let’s try a little experiment.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A fork? How quaint."

Tony grinned, twirling the fork between his fingers. "Well, I figured we’d see just how indestructible you really are."

Before Steve could protest, Tony reached across the table and pressed the fork against your forearm, applying pressure as if to test your skin. You didn’t flinch or move, simply watching him with an amused expression.

The fork bent under the pressure, the metal warping against your skin as if it were nothing more than a cheap plastic utensil. Tony released it, letting the mangled fork drop to the table with a clatter.

"Well, that’s definitely not normal.” Tony glanced at the bent fork, then back at you, his surprise quickly masked by his usual bravado.

"Satisfied?” You looked down at the fork, then back up at Tony, your eyebrows raised in a silent, almost mocking challenge.

Tony leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed, though he tried to hide it. "Well, I’ve seen weirder, but that’s up there."

Steve, who had been watching the exchange with frustration, finally spoke up. "Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA’s done to you, whatever they’ve made you believe, it doesn’t have to be this way."

You leaned forward slightly, your expression hardening. "Steve, you’re still so naive. This world doesn’t care about heroes or villains. It’s about power, control. And HYDRA... they understand that better than anyone."

Tony frowned, leaning forward as well. "So what’s your endgame? What do you get out of all this?"

You looked between the two of them, your smile fading as you considered the question. "Endgame? You really think it’s that simple? I’m just a piece on the board, Stark. The difference is, I know it."

Tony shook his head with a smirk. "You know, it’s a real shame you’re a total piece of shit because we would have made great friends. No offense, Cap." Tony lightly patted Steve on the shoulder.

You chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, Stark, it wouldn’t have worked out. I don’t play well with others."

“Yeah, I'm getting that vibe,” Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “But let’s get back to you, I will ask again and you answer. What’s your deal? Why’d you let us catch you? Was it my charm? Steve’s good looks? Or were you just bored of winning?"

You leaned back in your chair, considering his words. "Let’s just say I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You know, see if the Avengers are really as impressive as they say."

Tony leaned in, his grin widening. "And? What’s the verdict?"

You shrugged, your tone nonchalant. "You’re not bad. But I was expecting more... fireworks."

"Fireworks, huh?" Tony glanced at Steve with a smirk. "See, Cap? She’s got a sense of humor. Maybe we can work something out. Maybe you and I can grab a drink later, talk about how we both have a thing for breaking stuff.”

You shrugged, your expression indifferent. “Maybe in another life, Stark. But this one? Not a chance.”

“You’re more than just a piece on the board, Y/N. You always have been.” Steve’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle but firm.

For the first time since the interrogation began, you seemed to hesitate, something flickering in your eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, detached mask you had worn since they had captured you.

"Believe what you want, Steve," you said quietly, leaning back in your chair. "But that doesn’t change anything."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, this is getting us nowhere. We’ll be back, Y/N. And next time, maybe you’ll be in a more talkative mood."

You didn’t respond, simply watching as Tony and Steve stood up, the door to the interrogation room sliding open with a soft hiss. A small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Just as they reached the door, you spoke up, your voice smooth and casual, but with an undercurrent of something darker.

“You might want to keep your friends close,” you murmured, your words barely louder than a whisper but sharp enough to cut through the air, “and your enemies... even closer. Not everyone at the top plays the game fairly.”

Steve paused, his hand on the door, glancing back at you.

Tony turned slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, frowning.

You just shrugged, your smile widening as if you were in on a joke they hadn’t figured out yet. “Just a piece of friendly advice. Sometimes the rot starts from within, and by the time you notice, it’s already spread too deep. But hey, what do I know?”

Steve exchanged a quick glance with Tony, the unspoken concern evident between them. But they knew better than to press you further—this was exactly the kind of mind game HYDRA would want you to play.

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve said, his voice tight as he opened the door.

Without another word, Steve turned and exited the room, Tony following close behind.

As the door shut behind them, you could still hear Tony muttering to Steve, “You think she’s just messing with us, or should we actually be worried?”

Steve’s silence was telling—whatever you meant, it had left him unsettled, and the cryptic warning echoed in his mind, feeding a growing sense of unease.

× × × ×

Flashback: Brooklyn, 1941

The night air was crisp, the sky above a sprawling canvas of twinkling stars that seemed to stretch on forever. You and Steve lay side by side on a worn-out blanket, nestled together on the rooftop of your apartment in Brooklyn. The city’s usual noise felt distant, like a faint echo, leaving only the serene hush of the night and the rhythmic beating of your hearts.

Steve’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gazed up at the stars. “You ever think about what’s out there?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does it all mean?”

You turned your head to look at him, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “Sometimes,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But mostly, I think about what’s right here. Right now.”

“Well, if you’re not thinking about aliens or flying cars, I guess you’ve got your priorities straight.” Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt it reverberate through the quiet night.

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “And what about you, Rogers? Are you spending all your time up here daydreaming about little green men?”

Steve grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how I ended up here with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you everywhere, soldier.”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve said with a wink, and you both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of the breeze.

After a moment, the laughter faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. Steve turned onto his side so he could face you fully, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly more serious. “I know I’m not the strongest or the fastest... and I know I don’t have much to offer, but... I want you to know something.”

You squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “What is it, Steve?”

He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I promise you, no matter what happens... I’ll protect you. I’ll stand by you. I’ll take care of you, always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sincerity.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are. That’s more than enough for me.”

Steve smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, squeezing his hand again. “But just so you know, I’m pretty good at taking care of myself too. So maybe we can take care of each other?”

Steve’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Deal.”

With a playful grin, you held up your pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, amused. “Pinky promise? Are we twelve?”

You smirked, undeterred. “Just humor me, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled and linked his pinky with yours. “Alright, pinky promise.”

You both shook on it, the moment feeling almost sacred in its simplicity. When your hands released, you shifted closer, resting your head on Steve’s chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe, as if nothing in the world could touch you as long as you were together.

“You know,” Steve said after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I’m pretty sure pinky promises are unbreakable.”

You grinned, your eyes still fixed on the stars above. “That’s the idea.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’ll never break it. I promise.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustling of the night breeze and the steady beat of Steve’s heart beneath your ear. The world below faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you under the vast expanse of the starry sky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence.

In that moment, everything felt right. The future, with all its uncertainties, seemed far away. All that mattered was the here and now, and the love you shared under the Brooklyn sky.

Present Day

Steve stood alone in the observation room, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. His thoughts were consumed by the memory you shared together, of the promises he had made and the promises he had failed to keep.

With a heavy sigh, he reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small, worn photograph. The edges were frayed from years of handling, and the image itself had started to fade, but it was still clear enough to see your smiling face. It was a picture taken long ago, back when things were simpler, back when the world hadn’t yet taken its toll on either of you.

In the photograph, you were laughing, your eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that had always made his heart skip a beat. You were leaning into him, and he had his arm around your shoulders, both of you looking so carefree, so happy. It was a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Steve’s thumb brushed over the image of your face, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. This photo had been his lifeline during the war, and later, in the years after he was thawed out, it had been his constant reminder of what he had lost.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the picture. He couldn’t reconcile the person in this photograph with the one he had fought against. It was like looking at two different people—one filled with love and warmth, and the other filled with anger and pain.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not when everything was on the line. But the pain was too much, the guilt too overwhelming. He had kept this photo with him through everything, as a reminder of what he was fighting for, of the life he wanted to get back to. But now, it only served as a cruel reminder of what he had failed to protect.

Steve sank into a nearby chair, his head bowed as he continued to stare at the photograph. The tears he had tried to hold back slipped down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. All he could do was sit there, lost in his grief, mourning the girl he had loved and the girl he had lost, even though you were still alive.

The photograph trembled in his hands as he struggled to hold onto it, to hold onto the memory of who you had been. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of what you had become. It haunted him, tearing at his heart, filling him with a despair so deep he wasn’t sure he could ever claw his way out.

× × × ×

0145 HRS

Steve walked back into the cell, the harsh fluorescent lights now turned on, casting cold, unyielding shadows on the walls. You were exactly where he and Tony had left you, your posture calm, almost unnervingly so. Your cuffed wrist rested on the table, fingers lightly drumming a rhythm that matched the distant hum of the Helicarrier’s engines.

Steve sat across from you, the silence between you stretching out like a chasm. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast unforgiving shadows on your face, but your expression remained indifferent, almost bored. You leaned back in the metal chair and watched Steve with a look that could only be described as disdainful amusement.

“So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He simply stared at you, his blue eyes searching for something—anything—familiar in your expression. But the person he had known, the person he had loved, was buried deep beneath the venom you now spewed.

“You’ve changed,” Steve said quietly.

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed in the small room. “Changed? Oh, you have no idea, Rogers. But then again, you were never very good at noticing the little details, were you? Too busy playing the hero, too busy saving the world to see the knife twisting in my back. Or was it your shield?”

“Y/N…” Steve began, his tone pleading, but you cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

“Save it,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing with malice. “You’re not here to save me, Steve. You’re here to soothe your guilty conscience. But don’t worry, I’ll make this easy for you—there’s nothing left to save. I’m not your little damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining spandex to swoop in and make everything better.”

Steve flinched at your words, the pain in his chest growing sharper with every vile sentence that left your lips. "I never saw you as someone who needed saving," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You were always strong, Y/N. You didn’t need me to be a hero for you."

"Spare me the heartfelt bullshit, Steve," you sneered, leaning forward in your chair, your eyes blazing with animosity. "You wanted to be the hero because it made you feel good, made you feel important. But where were you when I needed you? Off playing soldier, marching to the beat of your outdated ideals while I was left to rot in the dirt."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. You leaned back, your gaze cold and calculating, a twisted smile curling on your lips.

"You know," you continued, your tone almost conversational, "there’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone like you squirm. All that virtue, all that righteousness—it’s like watching a statue crumble. Beautiful, in a way. Don’t you think?"

Steve swallowed hard, his heart breaking as he listened to you tear into him with every word. But he didn’t waver. He couldn’t. "Y/N, whatever HYDRA did to you, we can fix it. We can help you."

"Help?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "The only thing you can do for me now is get out of my way. Or better yet, go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and stay there. You’ve done enough damage as it is."

"HYDRA twisted you, made you into something you’re not," Steve insisted, his voice growing firmer. "This isn’t who you are."

Suddenly, your eyes flashed with a fierce intensity as you leaned forward, your voice rising, "You think you know me? You think you understand what I’ve been through !? What you put me through!?" Your hands clenched into fists as you stood up and with a surge of strength, the metal cuffs binding your wrists snapped in half, the sound echoing through the cell.

Steve instinctively went on the defensive, his hand hovering over the duress button. The sudden shift in his posture—the instinct to guard himself against you—didn’t go unnoticed.

For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, your breaths heavy, your eyes locked on Steve. Then, slowly, a dark, humorless laugh bubbled up from your throat, filling the space between you.

"See?" you said, your voice laced with bitterness and scorn. "You’re no different from the rest of them. The moment I show you my true strength, you recoil like I’m some kind of beast. Because that’s all you see, isn’t it? A serum-made monster.”

You plopped yourself back into the chair, pulling the metal cuffs off of your wrist like it was a piece of paper and tossed them on the table with a clatter.

Steve’s eyes widened, shocked when you mentioned serum. "Y/N, don’t do this. You don’t have to be this person."

You stared at him for a long moment, your expression hardening. “You’re right,” you said, nodding, “I don’t have to be this person. But I choose to be. Because this world doesn’t deserve anything better.”

Steve’s heart sank as he realized just how far you had fallen, how deep the hatred and anger ran in your veins. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Sorry?” you echoed, your tone mocking. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Steve. Sorry doesn’t undo the years of pain, the betrayal, the lies. Sorry is just a word, a meaningless sound that people like you throw around to make themselves feel better.”

Steve stood up slowly, his movements heavy with the weight of your words. “I promised I’d always protect you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not giving up on that promise.”

You rolled your eyes, a look of pure contempt on your face. “How noble. But I’m not the girl you promised to protect, Steve. She’s dead. And the person sitting in front of you doesn’t need your protection.”

Steve sat there, unable to move, as the weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders. He had lost you, not just to HYDRA, but to the darkness that had taken root in your heart—a darkness that he had played a part in fostering.

“What do you want then?”

Your smile turned cold again, more sinister than before. "I want to watch this world burn. I want to see the so-called heroes fall, one by one. Starting with you."

With a heavy heart, Steve got up, seeing as there was no getting through to you. Steve’s expression hardened slightly, and as he turned to leave, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the cold metal handle.

Without looking back, he spoke, his voice steady, “A serum, huh? Thanks for the information.” with that the door closed behind Steve with a final, echoing thud.

The smile that had been twisted in mockery only moments before now faltered, the edges softening into something more conflicted.

You had let it slip.

You had revealed more than you intended—an error that was unlike you, and that fact alone gnawed at the edges of your mind. You had given Steve a piece of the puzzle, and that meant the game had changed.

Your lips curled back into a smirk, but it lacked the malice it once had. If Steve wanted to play the hero, to dig into the truth of what had happened to you, then let him try. Let him chase the shadows and secrets you had buried. But even as you tried to convince yourself that you still held the upper hand, the nagging doubt remained and it won't be leaving your head soon.

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cameronspecial · 8 months ago

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Could you write a Rafe Cameron x curvy/chubby middle class reader fanfic where reader starts receiving love letters and gifts from a secret admirer called your mr right or something cheesy like that and she requests help from the pogues help in finding this secret admirer. Later she finds out that her secret admirer is none other than Rafe Cameron (her “handsome enemy”) after him interrupting her and a guy because (he’s super jealous). She confronts him on it(thinking it is some cruel joke of his; trying to get the chubby/curvy pogue princess to sleep with him and talk bad about her afterwards to his friends. Rafe has been in love with reader since the day he met her and flirts with her which always leads to bickering mainly reader being sassy and sarcastic with him and him just eating it up with a smirk. This confrontation leads to love confessions, breeding and praise kink/smut

Mr.Right

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Y/N never thought Mr. Right would be none other than Rafe Cameron. It doesn’t make sense. After years of the two of them being in opposition, she can’t believe he is the one who has been sending her love letters for just as long. She remembers the excitement of finding the first letter.

She had been living in the Outer Banks for three weeks and she couldn’t believe someone was interested in her, especially because no one had shown any desire for her in thirteen years of living. Most of the boys she has met didn’t like that she was sassy and sarcastic. They preferred girls who would go along with their every word. Sure, her friends, her fellow pogues, weren’t like everyone else, but she knew they all had a crush on Kiara, which was understandable to her because JJ, John B and Pope had known her forever. So, when she found the messily written letter signed by Mr.Right saying that she had a fiery personality and was the most beautiful woman Anonymous had seen, she couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach. It was the first time someone had considered her a woman, even though she had her first period two years ago. As the years went on, more and more letters came in, sometimes with gifts, and her self-confidence grew. She would use the letters as a reminder of who she really was whenever the dick boys at school would mock her because of her weight.

That is why when she pieces together the identity of Mr. Right, her mind reels at the thought of Rafe being the one to help boost her confidence. It can’t be him, not when he has been the one to poke at every button she owns. Nevertheless, it can’t be more clear to her as she processes the words he says. “Don’t touch Fireball again,” Rafe threatens the man who she was dancing with. The nickname is one only used by one person in her life and it can’t be a coincidence that Rafe used it too. Suddenly, the butterflies plummet to their death into her stomach acid. Of course, Mr.Right is him because the letters aren’t genuine love letters. They can’t be. Instead, she is sure that he is using them as a cruel way to mock her and she can imagine the years he has spent laughing over her naivety. He has probably hidden from the sight of her mailbox to watch her happily open the letters. He must have loved it whenever she would do one of her dorky dances in excitement.

Fury forms in the pit of her stomach and she goes to the one mode she is used to when it comes to Rafe. Confrontation.

Rafe watches the loser walk away from Y/N with his head hung low. Rafe’s satisfaction is short-lived as she grabs his shoulder to spin him to look at her. “You are a cruel man to play that sick joke for six years,” she yells in his face. His eyebrows meet and his head tilts, “What are you talking about?” She laughs with a shake of her head. “Don’t play dumb with me, Mr.Right.” She punctuates the alias with bunny ears. The pseudonym illuminates the reason for her anger and he is quick to understand that she thinks his letters were a joke. “They aren’t a joke, Fireball. Every word I said is true.” He doesn’t see a reason to lie. He has been found out. She scoffs, “Why would I believe you? All we’ve ever done is be at each other’s throat and you would take any chance to blow my fuse.” He steps forward so that she can feel his breath fan on her face. The mintiness of his breath mint hits her. “Because every single fibre of my body yearns for you and it is impossible for me to hide it. That’s why I had to write to you,” he growls at her, not in anger but in passion. His words cause a wetness to form between her thighs. She is definitely going to feel it when she walks away, her thighs rubbing against each other will cause it to spread. She doesn’t back down, “Like I can believe you can feel anything other than anger. I bet most of the girls you have slept with faked an orgasm because they couldn’t take how furious you look while fucking them.”

“So you have thought about what I looked like while having sex?”

“Ha, yeah, totally. Just about as much as you think about me.”

His eyes darken and his mouth dips so it presses against the shell of her ear, “Then you must see me every time you are in bed with someone because you are the only person I imagine when I’m cumming. And I’m willing to prove it.”

His hand wraps around her wrist and she doesn’t protest as he leads her through the busy party to an unoccupied bathroom. He slams the door, locking it before pushing her forward so her clothed breasts press against the counter. His hard-on digs into her bum. He unbuttons her shirt so she can see his toned abs through the mirror. She says nothing whilst he grabs the bottom of her dress and pulls it off. The bulge of her stomach that is revealed makes her want to shy away from him. She has seen the other girls he has slept with before and she doesn’t have anything in common with them. He tsks, “Don’t do that, Fireball. I want you to see every sexy part of yourself while I fuck you dumb.” Her hair is in his grasp and he yanks her head back so it is beside his. He kisses the spot below her left ear. She gasps when his other hand goes down to her thong and he rips it off. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots him shoving the used item into his back pocket. His thumb finds her clit and he begins to rub it clockwise. Their eyes meet in the mirror. “See this. This is what I imagine every single time I come,” he mumbles, speeding up the pace of his finger until she cries out that she is coming.

He watches her with pride as she recuperates from her high. She decides to provoke him, “I don’t believe you.” His nostrils flare and he tugs on her hair a little hard so his mouth can drop to her neck. He begins to nibble on her skin. “You want to play, then I’ll play.” He uses one hand to remove his jeans and his boxers, gripping his large length. She watches with hooded eyes as he pumps cock. He gathers some of her cum between her legs and smears it across his dick. She bites her bottom lip in desire. She catches his smirk from the side of her eye.

He steps forward and the tip of his penis flicks against her entrance. He teases her for a bit, chuckling when she whines at him to do something. He obeys her command and slams into her at full speed. His thrusts are fast and harsh, hitting every spot inside of her that she needs. She lets out tiny squeals at every jerk forward. “I don’t know why you can’t believe that I think about you. I mean look at you,” he orders. His chin motions to the mirror and she observes her reflection. “Every single part of you is a work of art and I’ll be damned that you can’t see it.” She can’t form any words, too focused on the pleasure he is providing her. His hand goes back to her bud and he rubs it in synch with the movement of his hips. Her toes curl in her heels. God, she hates and loves that he knows what he is doing. “Aww. Is my dick so good that you can’t think of anything to say? It’s okay, I’ll fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be able to recognize your beauty. I’ll have to admit it once you see how adorable our kids are,” he teases. Her walls clenches around him and he takes notice. “Hmm. You like that idea, don’t you? It’s okay, Fireball. I always knew you were a beautiful slut inside.” She reaches back and shoves her fingers in his mouth, “Shut up would you, I’m trying to imagine Zac Efron.”

Rafe lets out a breathy laugh and grabs her left ankle to place it on the counter, allowing him to be deeper inside of her. Her breasts bounce in a way that hurts a little as he brings her closer to the edge. “He won’t ever get to see you like this, Fireball. This is my privilege and if I have to fuck a cuteass baby into you so that gets the message across, then I will.” He accentuates his next sentences with a thrust each. “Only I get to have my head between these thick thighs.” Thrusts. “Only I get to grip these soft hips.” Thrust. “Only I get to call your stunning self mine.” She moans at his words, feeling herself tighten with each promise. “Repeat what I said,” he commands and she does. Her release is brought during her repetition and she collapses against the smooth counter.

She pants with her cheek stuck against the marble. His dick spasms inside of her and his cum stains her gummy walls. He leans down so his chest is pressed against her back. “So, who am I to you?” he questions in a pant. She gives him a tired smile, “Mr.Right.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #rafe cameron outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut

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silkenwinger · 12 days ago

Text

cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something. part two here

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space– it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

#will i be shadowbanned again. we shall see #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yours truly #konig

149 notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 10 months ago

Text

You're nursing a crush on Eddie from afar but you're from the dark side, he hates you doesn't he? So you begin to leave anonymous notes to Eddie complimenting him.

Gareth finds out...but so does Jason and he wants revenge.

Warnings; Secret admirer, angst, mention of the word slut, little bit of fluff.

This has been my brainrot for the last few days, enjoy 🫶💌

💌💞

You knew Eddie hated you. Being from the dark side as he put it, there was no doubt that you were public enemy number one in Eddie's eyes. Quietly you nursed a crush on him that only grew with each passing day.

No one knew who your crush was, only that you were pining for someone who didn't like you back.

"You could have anyone at this school, Tina snaps why do you insist on pining over some loser who doesn't give a shit about you?" You didn't know how to answer that, you didn't want just anyone, you wanted Eddie.

But you could never tell him. He would think it was a joke or some ploy concocted by Jason, so you were left with only daydreams and small hopes that one day Eddie might notice you.

Secretly you began to leave anonymous notes in his locker, just little compliments to brighten his day and watched from the sidelines as he discovered each one, at first he angrily disregarded them as a joke. Then he softened and a faint blush would creep up his cheeks as he read your words, a small smile on his face once he realised that they were genuine.

One day Gareth caught you putting the note in Eddie's locker, looked at you stunned and with a questioning gaze.

"It's been you all along" you nod, eyes filling with tears at the thought of Eddie finding out and hating you even more.

"Please don't tell him. He already hates everything about me and my friends," Gareth still gapes at you as you gather your things and rush away from the scene.

... 💌

Gareth struggled with hiding who Eddie's secret admirer was, now he knew it was you and you begging him not to tell Eddie he was in a bind. What the hell was he supposed to do with this information? On one hand Eddie was his friend and he couldn't keep secrets from him.

On the other hand, you seemed really sweet and obviously had been crushing on Eddie for a long time. He didn't know what to do, so he turned to Jeff for advice and swore him to secrecy.

It was completely unknown to him that a seething Jason had heard everything and was planning to teach you a lesson. How could you like that freak Munson? He shakes his head in disgust and formulated a plan.

He waits until no one is around and steals a few notes you left Eddie from Eddie's locker.

... 💌

There's immense chatter as you head into the school the next day, Chrissy is furiously arguing with Jason which surprises you. Chrissy rarely if ever got mad.

"Look, here's the star of the show now" Jason sneers and you frown confused and push your way to the crowd in front of your locker.

Humiliation seeps into your bones as you see your notes to Eddie spread across your locker. Hellfire Slut is written in red ink. Jason is now howling with laughter, others look sympathetic but don't move to help.

Chrissy pushes past everyone and helps gather up the notes while glaring daggers at Jason, you offer her a weak smile.

Tears pool down your cheeks but what makes matters worse is that Eddie is standing rigid a little bit away from the whole scene and gazing at the notes. He knows everything now and your misery deepens.

You flee once his eyes meet yours.

💌

Eddie can feel the slow burn of rage course through his veins. He didn't like violence, it reminded him too much of his old man but just this once he lets the anger wash over him at the image of your tearstained face.

He walks calmly over to a smug Jason who looks ready to make some stupid comments. Eddie doesn't give him a chance, he punches the douchebag right in his face and then sets off to find you.

For a while Eddie searches for you but concedes that you must have gone home. His knuckle is bruised and bleeding from hitting Carver but he doesn't regret it.

Eddie hopes he can find you tomorrow so he can get some answers from you, he was rapidly falling in love with his anon admirer and if it really was you, he wanted to know.

It surprises Eddie that the thought of you being his admirer doesn't bother him. You're part of the dark side but so obviously different to Jason and his goons, and he was falling for you hard through those notes. Maybe he could finally get to know you for real?

Later as he heads back to the trailer, Wayne tuts as he sees Eddie's bruised knuckles and sighs. "Was it at least worth it son?" Eddie doesn't even have to think twice as he replies.

"Yeah Uncle Wayne, it really was"

💌

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson blurb

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astridthevalkyrie · 11 months ago

Text

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka.

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night.

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield.

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts.

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time.

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly.

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up.

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen.

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points.

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

#bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #valkyrie stories

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kayewrite · 3 months ago

Text

...So much I think it must be

True love

(part 2 of "At the same time, I wanna hug you..")

seungmin x reader!! enemies to lovers troupe!! genre; fluff. word count:6.8k

summary; It’s strange to think that someone you once couldn’t stand is now the person you can’t live without. You both used to scoff at the idea of fate, but now? You’re not so sure anymore.

an: oh please i love this soo much. i hope you also do! (i know i said it will only short but...) Can be read as stand alone, but it was better if you read the first one.

listen to True Love by Pink

You and Seungmin have been together for two years now. It’s funny how things turned out. Everyone around you always says the same thing: “You two are perfect for each other.” It’s almost cliché, but they’re not wrong. Despite the ups and downs, your bond has only grown stronger over time.

At first glance, no one would have guessed you'd end up together. You and Seungmin were like fire and ice. You’d argue about the smallest things—who was better at math, who had the best grades, or even who would finish their lunch first. You were competitive to a fault, constantly trying to outshine each other during school days.

But somewhere between the sarcastic jabs and friendly competition, something changed. The bickering turned playful. The challenges became a way to spend more time together. Before you knew it, he wasn’t just the guy you argued with—he became the one person who truly understood you.

You went from rivals, to best friends, to… well, something much more. Seungmin is still that competitive guy who drives you crazy, but now he’s also the one who makes your heart race with just a smile.

You often joke that you and Seungmin are like a cat and a dog—always at each other’s throats, only to end up tangled together in some ridiculous hug moments later.

One time, after a particularly heated argument about who was better at a silly arcade game, you kicked him in the leg under the table. He dramatically doubled over as if you’d really hurt him, only to have you clinging to his leg five minutes later, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Those playful moments make your relationship special. You pinch his arms, but later, those same arms become your pillow when you sleep. You pretend to hate his antics, but deep down, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the quieter moments, when the laughter fades and it’s just the two of you, you find comfort in how well you understand each other. On the vulnerable days, when life feels overwhelming, Seungmin is there, and it’s like you’re soulmates—soup mates, as you two love to joke, because he once insisted that the way you fit together is as comforting as a warm bowl of soup.

It’s strange to think that someone you once couldn’t stand is now the person you can’t live without. You both used to scoff at the idea of fate, but now? You’re not so sure anymore.

That evening, you find yourselves lounging on the couch, both of you too tired to do much of anything. The day had been long—work, school, life—but with Seungmin next to you, everything felt a little lighter.

A few rounds in playing your favorite game, you’re locked in an intense game. Seungmin is winning, and you can feel your frustration rising. You glance down at your cards, trying to hide your devious smile.

“Pick four,” Seungmin says with a laugh, tossing down the card as if he’s already won.

You frown, glaring at the pile of cards you’re supposed to pick up. “You think you’ve got me, huh?” you say, squinting at him.

He leans back, hands behind his head. “I know I do.”

You look at your hand and, with a grin, pull out the ultimate weapon. “Pick eight!”

His smirk falters. He glances at the new card on the pile and then back at you. “What?”

“You heard me,” you say triumphantly. “Pick. Eight.”

Seungmin frowns, staring at his hand. “I won’t... because you’re about to pick twelve!” He grins, tossing down another card.

Your jaw drops, and you stare at the card pile in disbelief. “No way!” you shout, quickly playing your reverse card. “Ha!”

“I anticipated that,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. He pulls out another reverse card, laying it down with a calm smirk.

“What?! No!” you shout, your voice rising. “That’s not fair!”

“Go ahead,” Seungmin says, still grinning. “Pick your cards.”

You glare at the stack of cards you’re about to draw. “Oh no,” you mutter dramatically, placing a yellow skip card. “I’m not losing this time!”

He looks down at the skip card and grins wider. “You sure about that?”

You squint at him. “Don’t tell me…”

Seungmin stands up, towering over the table, and slaps down his own skip card. “UNO!”, he shouts victoriously, laughing as he pumps his fist in the air.

You stare at him, completely stunned. And then... you start to cry. Literally cry.

Seungmin’s laughter dies down as he realizes what’s happening. “Wait—are you crying?” he asks, rushing over to you, his hands gently holding your face.

You sniff dramatically. “You always win,” you say in a pitiful voice, though deep down, you know you’re just being overly dramatic for the cuddles.

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Okay, okay. You win,” he whispers into your hair, kissing the top of your head. “You win. No more Uno.”

You sniff again, leaning into his warmth. “You better let me win next time,” you mumble, already feeling better as he wraps his arms tighter around you.

He laughs softly. “Whatever you say.”

Seungmin had always been your greatest inspiration, just as you were his. Whenever life got tough, he was the one who motivated you to keep pushing forward. You leaned on each other, growing stronger together, especially after high school when you both embarked on your college journeys. Seungmin was diving into music, while you pursued your passion for acting. Balancing the pressures of school and life was a challenge, but with him by your side, every obstacle felt a little less daunting.

You shared a small, cozy apartment—a space you quickly transformed into a home filled with love, laughter, and countless memories. It was perfect in its imperfections, a reflection of your unique bond.

One evening, after a long day of classes, Seungmin had cooked a delicious dinner. You collapsed on the couch, savoring the scent wafting from the kitchen.

“I cooked, so you’re on dish duty tonight!” you declared, a playful smirk on your face.

“Every time I cook, I end up washing the dishes too!” he replied, feigning exasperation.

You crossed your arms dramatically. “Then we’re watching Despicable Me later!”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wash. But we’re watching Pitch Perfect first.”

“Agh, not again! We just watched it last week!”

“Okay, how about we wash the dishes together, and then we can watch Alvin and the Chipmunks?” he offered, his smile returning. That was your shared favorite, after all.

“Deal!” you said, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Washing the dishes turned into a delightful mess. Seungmin started the playful chaos by gently tapping a bubble onto your nose. You laughed, unable to resist the urge to retaliate.

“Two can play this game!” You dipped your hands into the soapy water and smeared bubbles onto his face, pretending it was a beard. “Look at you, Mr. Clean!”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Very funny! But I think I’ve seen better beards in my life!”

As you both continued the playful antics, he teased you by lathering bubbles all over your face. You gasped, trying to chase him down when he darted away.

“Catch me if you can!” he called, his laughter echoing through the kitchen.

You chased him around the small apartment, and just when you thought you had him cornered, he turned and caught you in his arms, both of you still giggling like children.

“Alright, alright,” he said, breathless. “Now that we’ve completed our bubble fight, how about we take a shower before movie night?”

“Only if you promise not to hog the hot water!” you teased.

“Deal!” he replied with a wink.

After a shared shower filled with laughter and splashes, you both dried off and prepared for your movie night. As Pitch Perfect started playing, you settled into the couch, arms wrapped around each other, a bowl of popcorn sits between you, half-empty from the endless snacking. The familiar sound of his laughter fills the room as he playfully pokes you in the ribs, trying to steal the last handful of popcorn.

“Hey! No fair! I’m the one who made this, remember?” you protest, swatting his hand away with a giggle.

“Please, you just popped the bag. I did all the hard work by sitting here and looking cute,” he counters, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “You’re insufferable,” you tease, and he pretends to be wounded, dramatically clutching his heart.

“Insufferable? Wow, I thought we were past all this name-calling. Just the other day, you called me your favorite person,” he says, winking at you.

“Only because you keep me entertained,” you reply with a smirk, leaning back to grab another handful of popcorn.

In the middle of the movie, the two of you began reminiscing about the past. “Do you remember that camp in middle school? The one where you pushed me into the mud?” You shoot him a mock glare.

Seungmin bursts into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How could I forget? You looked like a muddy potato!”

“Thanks, very flattering,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest in mock indignation. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to wash that out of my hair?”

He grins, clearly enjoying this walk down memory lane. “I did it because you were so cute in those banana pajamas. My friends couldn’t stop talking about how adorable you looked. I got jealous!”

Your jaw drops in surprise, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. “You were jealous? So, you decided to make my life miserable? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? You remember me now.”

“Yeah, I remember you as the worst person ever,” you retort, but your heart swells with affection. “But now? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Seungmin's expression softens, and he leans in closer. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers, his voice sincere.

You share a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the warmth of your memories flooding over you. Then, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, filled with the tenderness that only two years of love can create.

Pulling away, you chuckle softly, “I guess I can forgive you for that muddy incident after all.”

“Just after that?” he asks, feigning shock. “I was expecting a bit more gratitude for making you who you are today.”

You roll your eyes again, but the laughter doesn’t stop. “Alright, fine! Thank you for pushing me into the mud; it led to this beautiful moment of us sitting on the couch, sharing popcorn and memories.”

“See? It’s all about perspective,” he says with a satisfied smile, his hand brushing against yours.

And in that moment, you know that this—this life with Seungmin, filled with laughter, teasing, and love—is everything you ever wanted. You hope it will last forever.

Seungmin was also your practice buddy, always there to help you with your lines.

“I am not doing something that will hurt Elizabeth!” you declared dramatically, trying to channel all the emotion you could muster.

He watched you with an amused expression, his lips curling into a smirk. “Oh really?” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Because it looks like you’re about to break into a musical number any second now.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “Come on, I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try again,” he said, suppressing a laugh. “Just imagine Elizabeth is right in front of you. Really feel it!”

You took a deep breath and repeated the line with even more feeling. “I am not doing something that will hurt Elizabeth!”

Seungmin burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “You know, if this acting thing doesn’t work out, you could always pursue a career in stand-up comedy!”

“Ahh, babe, you aren’t a big help,” you complained, playfully swatting at him. “You’re supposed to be my coach, not my heckler!”

He leaned forward, pretending to consider it seriously. “Hmm, maybe I should charge you for coaching fees. Let’s see... One kiss for each lesson?”

“Nice try!” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that!”

“Alright, how about this? If you nail this next line, I’ll cook dinner tonight,” he offered, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“You’re on!” you said, excitement bubbling within you. “But if I don’t nail it, you have to wash the dishes for a week!”

“Deal!” he laughed, clearly enjoying the challenge.

You focused again, summoning every ounce of emotion. “I am not doing something that will hurt Elizabeth!”

His eyes widened as you delivered the line perfectly this time. “Wow! Look at you! That was amazing!” he exclaimed, pretending to wipe away a tear. “Such a moving performance!”

You beamed, proud of yourself. “See? I told you I could do it!”

“Alright, alright, you win this round,” he said, chuckling. “But don’t get too cocky. We still have more lines to practice.”

You smiled slyly. “More lines means more kisses, right?”

“Only if you keep up this level of talent!” he shot back, winking at you.

With that, you both dove back into practice, filled with laughter, playful banter, and the warmth of shared moments that made every day feel like an adventure.

One of your favorite memories with Seungmin was that time you caught a terrible fever. You had been feeling sluggish all day, and by evening, it hit you like a truck. Seungmin noticed the change in your mood right away.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. His brow furrowed in concern as he gently touched your forehead. "You’re burning up!"

You gave a weak smile, trying to downplay it. "I’m fine… just need to rest a little."

He shook his head, already on his feet. "Nope, you’re officially under Seungmin's care now. Doctor’s orders."

Even through the haze of your fever, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Doctor Seungmin, huh? Since when did you go to med school?”

He grinned down at you. “Oh, you didn’t know? I’m an expert at treating stubborn patients,” he teased, making you chuckle softly. “Now, stay put while I get you some water.”

For the rest of the day, Seungmin was by your side, making sure you had everything you needed. He cooked you a warm soup that he claimed was “an old family recipe,” though you were pretty sure he made it up on the spot. Still, it tasted like comfort, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his efforts.

“Want anything else, sick patient?” he asked, plopping down beside you after tucking the blanket around your shoulders for the third time.

“Maybe… a movie? Something light to distract me?” you suggested, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Seungmin tilted his head thoughtfully. “Despicable Me? That’s your go-to comfort movie, right?”

You grinned, already feeling a bit better. “Yeah, but only if we can watch Pitch Perfect after.”

He groaned dramatically. “Not again with Pitch Perfect! But fine, since you’re sick and all… I’ll allow it.”

You nudged him playfully. “You secretly love it, admit it.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile. “I guess I have a soft spot for watching you geek out over the musical numbers.”

As the night went on, Seungmin kept checking on you, bringing you snacks, adjusting your blanket, and even giving you a forehead kiss here and there, pretending it was part of his “treatment plan.”

Despite the fever and exhaustion, having Seungmin by your side made everything feel a little brighter. You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice, and when you woke up, he was still there, holding your hand, fast asleep on the couch next to you.

It was in moments like these that you knew how lucky you were to have him—someone who took care of you, made you laugh, and turned even the worst days into something special.

There was also that time when Seungmin had an important music presentation for one of his classes. He had been practicing for weeks, perfecting every note, every rhythm, and you knew how much it meant to him. Unfortunately, your own schedule had been packed, with rehearsals for an upcoming play, and it seemed like there was no way you could attend his presentation.

“I get it, really. Don’t stress,” Seungmin had said, giving you a reassuring smile over breakfast that morning. But you could tell there was a little disappointment hidden behind those words.

Still, you hated the thought of not being there for him, especially when he was always there for you. So you decided to make it work. After an intense day of rehearsals, you managed to sneak out a little early. Without telling him, you grabbed a cab to the venue where his presentation was being held.

By the time you arrived, the presentation was already well underway. You quietly slipped into the back row of the auditorium, catching the last few minutes of his performance. Seungmin was standing confidently on stage, his hands on the keyboard, his voice filling the room with emotion. You could see the passion in his eyes, and it made your heart swell with pride.

As soon as he finished, the crowd erupted into applause, and you stood up, clapping louder than anyone. When Seungmin looked out into the audience, his eyes widened in surprise. He spotted you standing there, and his face broke into the biggest, brightest smile. The kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

Afterwards, he rushed over to you, practically jogging off the stage.

“You came!” he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Of course I did,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. “I thought you had rehearsals?”

“I did, but I snuck out early. Don’t tell my director,” you whispered with a playful grin.

Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” you teased back, making him roll his eyes, though you knew he loved it. “You were amazing, by the way.”

His smile grew even wider. “You think so? I was so nervous.”

“I couldn’t tell at all,” you assured him, then added, “You’re always incredible.”

One of the best memories you had together was that spontaneous road trip to the beach. It wasn’t planned—nothing ever really was with Seungmin. One Friday afternoon, after a long week of classes and rehearsals, he had just shown up at your apartment with a grin on his face and his car keys in hand.

“Pack your bags,” he had said. “We’re going to the sea.”

“Wait, what? Now?” you asked, eyes wide in surprise.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. We’re leaving in five.”

Despite the suddenness, you couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. So, in true Seungmin fashion, you threw a few things into a bag, and before you knew it, you were both in the car, windows down, sun setting in the distance, and the ocean waiting for you on the other side.

The drive started off peaceful, with a soft breeze ruffling your hair as Seungmin hummed along to the radio. But then it came on—Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus.

As soon as the first notes played, Seungmin’s eyes lit up. He turned to you, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. “You know what time it is.”

You laughed, already knowing where this was headed. “No way. I am not singing that.”

“Oh yes, you are,” he said, cranking up the volume. And without missing a beat, he started belting out the lyrics, with so much enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but join in.

“So I put my hands up, they’re playin’ my song—” you sang, matching his energy, your voice blending with his as the two of you practically yelled the lyrics together.

The car became a concert stage, the wind whipping through your hair as you danced in your seats, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. Seungmin banged his hands on the steering wheel to the beat, and you threw your hands up in the air, living in the moment.

“It’s a party in the USA!” you both shouted at the top of your lungs, finishing the chorus with a triumphant fist pump.

By the time the song ended, you were both a mess of laughter and gasps for air, the car filled with the lingering sound of your shared joy. You glanced over at Seungmin, who was still chuckling to himself, and your heart swelled with affection.

“God, I’m so bad at that,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye.

“You’re the best,” he corrected, flashing you that cheeky grin that always made you smile. “Besides, if anyone’s listening, they’re just jealous of your skills.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Right, because off-key karaoke is a highly sought-after talent.”

“Hey, you sounded amazing,” he teased, reaching over to playfully poke your side. “You could totally go on tour.”

“Only if you’re my backup dancer,” you shot back, pretending to strike a dramatic pose.

“Oh, I’d steal the show,” he replied, and for a moment, the teasing softened as he glanced over at you, eyes filled with affection.

As the sun continued to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the road, you leaned back in your seat, feeling completely at ease. With Seungmin by your side, singing karaoke and heading toward the sea, everything just felt right.

But as much as your relationship with Seungmin was filled with laughter and warmth, it wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, happiness wasn’t just happiness—it was tested.

It happened during one of your most important group projects. You were cast as the lead in a film, and your group wanted it to be perfect—flawless. Seungmin, understanding what acting required, always supported your work. But this project turned out to be different. The script called for a kiss—something you didn’t see coming. At first, you brushed it off. It was just acting, after all. You were a professional.

But there was one thing you hadn’t done, something that began to eat away at you slowly—you hadn’t told Seungmin about it.

It wasn’t that you forgot; you deliberately chose not to. He had been so busy with his music major, drowning in rehearsals and deadlines. You didn’t want to burden him with something that could wait, something that would only distract him. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The day of the filming came, and it was tense. The set was buzzing with nerves, everyone eager to get things just right. You were in the middle of a take, preparing for the scene where the kiss was supposed to happen, when you noticed Seungmin in the distance. He had shown up unexpectedly, holding a lunchbox, his eyes scanning the set.

At first, your heart leapt seeing him. But then the weight of your secret hit you hard.

You hadn’t told him.

And now he was here.

When he saw you kiss your co-star for the scene, his face changed. You saw the surprise, then the hurt, and then… the anger.

He turned and walked away before you could explain. And just like that, everything came crashing down.

The next few days were a blur. Seungmin wouldn’t return your calls or answer your texts. He was always “busy,” but you knew something deeper was wrong. It went on for a week—long, agonizing days of silence. One night, he didn’t even come home. You didn’t know it was because he had been working late on his presentation, but the fear that he might be slipping away from you overwhelmed you. You spent that night crying, feeling like you had lost him.

Finally, after a week of this unbearable distance, you found him sitting at the piano in the apartment, his fingers absentmindedly playing a soft melody. His face was tired, his expression distant.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Seungmin, please… let’s talk.”

He didn’t respond at first, just kept playing. But then, slowly, he stopped, his hands resting on the keys. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice shaky. “I should’ve told you. I didn’t mean to hide it. I just… I didn’t want to make you worry when you were already so busy with your major.”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “It wasn’t about the kiss. Not really. I know what acting is, and I get that. But you didn’t tell me. I found out by watching it happen.”

You bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. “I didn’t want to add to your stress. I thought it would just… complicate things.”

Seungmin shook his head. “That’s the problem. You didn’t trust me with it. You think I can’t handle these things, but I can. I just need you to be honest with me, like I’m honest with you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I was wrong for hiding it. I’ll tell you everything from now on.”

His gaze softened, and he got up from the piano, walking over to you. “It’s not about knowing every little thing. I just need to know we’re in this together. That we’re open with each other, no matter what.”

You wiped at your tears, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. “I promise, Seungmin. I’ll do better. I just don’t want to lose you.”

He smiled softly, pulling you into his arms. “You won’t. Just… don’t shut me out again, okay?”

You nodded into his chest, feeling his warmth, grateful that the weight of that silence had lifted. There was still so much love between you, and you both knew that even when things got tough, you’d find a way to make it through.

In that moment, as he held you close, you realized that relationships weren’t just about the easy, happy moments. They were about being able to weather the storms together, learning from the mistakes, and growing stronger from them.

After the rain, there was sunshine again—brighter than ever. 🌞

As you both lounged on the couch, the TV remained off, and the world outside seemed distant. It was just you two, basking in each other's company. The room was filled with the soft hum of contentment, the kind that comes from knowing you're right where you're meant to be.

“When we become successful, let’s buy a big house,” Seungmin said, his voice steady but full of excitement for the future.

You turned to him, eyes twinkling, “Yes! With a cinema room, so we can watch movies on a big screen!” You mimed holding a popcorn bowl, already imagining those cozy nights.

“And a kitchen. A big kitchen,” Seungmin added, smiling at the thought of cooking together, even if it meant the usual playful arguments over who would do the dishes.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “And then... we’ll have kids,” you said, a soft smile spreading across your face as you dared to speak about a future you had only dreamed of.

Seungmin, though caught off guard, smiled gently at you. He’d never brought up the idea first, always wanting to respect your wishes and the life you wanted. What if you didn’t want kids? He never wanted to push. But hearing you say it filled him with warmth.

“How many do you want?” he asked, curiosity mixing with affection.

You grinned mischievously, “I want ten.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened as he let out a chuckle. “Ten? That’s… a lot.”

“I want a basketball team, and we’ll need a cheerleader for them,” you giggled, already picturing the chaos.

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “If you want it, I’m here for you. But... according to my mom, she couldn’t even handle me, and I was an only child.”

You pouted playfully. “Well… our kid might be just like you.”

“At least I’m handsome,” he said with a mock serious expression, turning his side profile toward you like he was posing for a photoshoot.

“Yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes, “but hard to handle.”

“Then we’ll handle him together,” Seungmin said, laughing.

“And after that, we’ll have a girl,” you added softly, imagining the little family you could build.

“They’ll probably fight each other,” Seungmin mused, a smirk on his face.

“And then love each other, too,” you said, completing the thought.

Seungmin squeezed your hand, his voice tender. “Yeah... just like we do.”

Your third anniversary snuck up on both of you, buried beneath the mountain of academic work and deadlines. It seemed like the day would slip by unnoticed, just another day marked by exhaustion. You came home, drained, longing for nothing more than to collapse into bed beside Seungmin.

But when you opened the door, what you saw made you freeze in place.

There he was, standing in the middle of the room, guitar in hand, a warm smile on his face. The room was transformed—soft candlelight flickered, casting a golden glow over delicate flowers arranged around the room. The scent of roses mixed with the sweetness of jasmine filled the air. It was as if the whole world had slowed, the weight of the day evaporating in an instant.

Your heart skipped a beat. You were about to cry, already overwhelmed, when Seungmin strummed his guitar and started singing *Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You*.

You stopped mid-step, forgetting about your shoes, your bag—everything. Your hands flew to your face, completely taken by the surprise. It wasn’t the first time he’d sung for you, but tonight felt different. His voice seemed to carry more than just notes; it carried promises, memories, and a future you had dreamed of but never dared to hope for.

As he approached, still singing the chorus, his eyes never left yours. Every note felt like a vow, every lyric like an unspoken question. By the time he reached you, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Even before the song had finished, you threw your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling the warmth of his body as he set down the guitar to hug you back.

Seungmin continued to sing, but now it was just his voice, soft and raw—no instruments, just the sound of his heart speaking to yours. He kissed your forehead as you held him tightly, your eyes brimming with tears of happiness.

You held him close, still amazed by how much your life had changed. How this person, who used to drive you insane with teasing, had become the man you couldn’t imagine living without.

As if reading your thoughts, Seungmin gently pulled away, reaching over to the table and grabbing a bouquet of flowers, handing it to you with a tender smile. When you finally pulled away from the hug, tears streaked down your face, and you quickly wiped them, laughing at yourself.

He chuckled, too. “I shouldn’t have done this if I knew I’d make you cry,” he teased softly.

You playfully slapped his chest, still emotional. “They’re happy tears. It was so beautiful I couldn’t help it.”

Seungmin grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’m just glad you’re crying from happiness this time. Not like that time I beat you in exams,” he joked, breaking the seriousness with that signature humor of his.

You shook your head, unable to find the words to express what you felt. But you didn’t need to say anything; the love between you was palpable.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered, leaning closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “I love you.”

Your heart swelled again, and without thinking, you whispered, "I love you more than anything." You pulled him into another tight hug, feeling so safe in his arms, as if nothing in the world could hurt you as long as you had him. “And I think…” your voice trembled as you spoke, “I think I want to spend every year of my life with you.”

Seungmin pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft but intense. He reached into his jacket pocket, and you didn’t notice at first until he slowly dropped down to one knee.

Your breath caught in your throat as time seemed to stand still.

“I was going to wait,” he began, his voice steady, though you could hear the emotion beneath it. “I was going to wait for the perfect moment, the perfect day, but I realized… any day with you is perfect.” He took a small box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing a delicate, shimmering ring.

You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth in disbelief.

“So, I figured… why wait?” His eyes never wavered from yours, full of love and sincerity. “Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled over, and you nodded, unable to speak at first. Finally, through shaky breaths, you whispered, “Yes… of course, yes!”

Seungmin’s face broke into the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen as he slipped the ring onto your finger. The room felt warmer, brighter—like all the love you had for each other had materialized and wrapped itself around you both. When he stood up, you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him with all the love and excitement you could pour into that moment.

“I love you so much,” you murmured between kisses, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you were now engaged to the man you loved more than anything in the world.

He laughed softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

The rest of the night felt like a dream. You had a candlelit dinner, toasting to your future together, the soft glow of the candles reflecting off the ring that now symbolized your love. The night ended with tender kisses, whispered promises, and the kind of intimacy that comes from knowing your heart has found its home.

It was a night neither of you would ever forget—the beginning of the rest of your lives together.

------

Three years later, life looked like a dream you both had worked so hard to build. You and Seungmin had finally reached the heights of your careers, but what made it even more special was that you had done it together.

You, now a well-respected actress and director, were creating films that moved people—stories that made audiences laugh, cry, and think. Seungmin, now a renowned singer and producer, was loved by millions, with his songs climbing the charts and his name celebrated all over. Despite your busy schedules, you always found your way back to each other, making time for the little moments that mattered most.

You lived in the house you had once dreamed about on your anniversary, a beautiful home with large windows that let in the sunlight and a garden filled with flowers. It had a cozy cinema room—just like you had imagined—where the two of you often curled up to watch movies on the big screen after long days of work. There was a spacious kitchen, perfect for the playful cooking battles you still had, and laughter often echoed through the halls as you lived out the life you’d envisioned, but even better than you could have imagined.

And now, you were happily married.

The wedding had been intimate and beautiful, surrounded by the people you loved most. Seungmin had cried as you walked down the aisle, and though he tried to play it cool, his trembling hands as he held yours during the vows gave him away. It had been a day filled with tears of joy, laughter, and promises of forever. And now, here you were, living that forever.

As you both relaxed in your living room, the glow of a soft sunset spilling through the windows, Seungmin leaned back against the couch, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Remember how much you hated me back then?” he asked, glancing at you with that mischievous glint in his eye.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, I didn’t just hate you,” you teased. “I despised you. If I had teleportation powers back then, I would've dumped you right into the middle of the Pacific Ocean without a second thought.”

Seungmin burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. “You really would’ve, too! You used to look at me like you were plotting my demise.”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy,” you retorted, smirking. “You always laughed at my misery. You had this evil little laugh every time I got a lower grade than you. It drove me crazy.”

Seungmin wiped away a fake tear of joy. “It was so fun watching you squirm!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile playing on your lips gave you away. “And then that Romeo and Juliet project… I thought that was the universe punishing me. I had to be paired with you of all people.”

He grinned wider, eyes sparkling with fondness. “That project changed everything, though.”

You sighed, the memory tugging at your heart. “Yeah… I thought you were insufferable, but then I saw how serious you were about acting. You weren’t just the annoying kid who was good at everything. You actually had depth.”

Seungmin leaned closer, his tone softening. “And I thought you were just competitive for the sake of it, but you were so passionate. I admired that. You just wanted to be the best version of yourself.”

You smiled, the nostalgia washing over you. “I still can’t believe I went from wishing I could fling you across the globe to… well, spending forever with you.”

Seungmin reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. “I’m glad I wore you down,” he teased.

“You didn’t wear me down,” you said, smiling. “You just… made me see you differently. And I fell in love with who you really are.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something more profound. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Who would’ve thought that the girl who wanted to kill me would be the love of my life?”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Life’s funny like that.”

Years passed, and now you were in the hospital delivery room, the atmosphere charged with anticipation and tension. The pain gripped you as contractions came in waves, and Seungmin stood by your side, his face pale with worry, tears already brimming in his eyes as he watched you struggle.

“Breathe, baby, just breathe,” he whispered, his voice shaky as he held your hand, his grip tight but trembling. He wiped the sweat from your forehead, looking helpless as he tried to offer comfort, though it was clear he was barely holding himself together.

Through the haze of pain, you saw the tears slip down his cheeks. He was crying harder than you’d ever seen him before, overwhelmed with both fear and love as he watched the woman he adored go through something so difficult.

When the baby’s cries finally filled the room, Seungmin broke down completely. The doctors placed your newborn son in his arms, and he hugged the tiny bundle, tears streaming down his face, whispering something soft and incoherent through his sobs.

“He… he looks like me,” he choked out, looking down at the baby boy swaddled tightly, the resemblance already undeniable. His voice cracked with emotion, and he couldn’t stop crying as he leaned down to kiss you, his heart overflowing with love and relief.

Still exhausted and weak, you looked at the two of them—your husband and your son—and a tired but warm laugh escaped your lips. “I take it back,” you said, smiling faintly through your fatigue. “I don’t want ten anymore. Delivering one was already too much.”

Seungmin chuckled softly, though his eyes were still wet. “Just one… is already perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You both looked down at the baby, now peacefully asleep in Seungmin’s arms. He shifted closer, wrapping his other arm around you so the three of you could be together, a family. He kissed your forehead softly, the weight of the moment sinking in as you shared a look that held all the love and emotion words could never fully express.

“I love you,” Seungmin whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

You smiled, your heart swelling with more love than you ever thought possible. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your eyes lingering on the tiny face of your son, knowing that this was the beginning of a whole new chapter—a chapter filled with love, growth, and the family you had dreamed of together.

---

an: a reblog, comment, and heart is very much appreciated. thank you for reading have a great day/ night!

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