#the subtle motivations really came through for that one

[flysafepapi]

the subtle difference between "naming imbeciles to our Kingsguard" vs "your council"

frothing at the mouth.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

CL16 | Oblivious

Sorry it took me so long, I was really busy with finals the last couple of weeks but I've finally finished the fic from the poll! I hope you like it :)

Summary: Charles has been blatantly flirting with Y/N for months, but she's the only one who hasn't noticed.

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Charles was busy in the garage, talking with his mechanics when he saw her walk in. Y/N Sainz, the younger sister of his friend and teammate. He had seen her many, many times when she came to support her brother at his races. It seemed like Charles could sense her presence, knowing she was there without having seen or heard her, always looking up right when she walked in. Y/N Sainz was greatly loved by the Ferrari employees. With her bubbly personality, witty jokes, and bright smiles, all the team members enjoyed her presence. And Charles couldn’t help but feel the same way, although Y/N was completely oblivious to his affection. 

His face lit up when their eyes met, instantly smiling at her company. As soon as she was close enough, he greeted her, “Ah Y/N! Nice to see you again, you look lovely today!” He grinned.

“Oh, thank you, Charles. You’re so kind!” She responded with a bright smile as she hugged him in greeting, the flirty undertone going by entirely unnoticed.

Charles had been enamoured with Y/N since the first time they met. In an effort to not come off too strong and scare her away, Charles tried to flirt with her subtly. However, after several occurrences without any reaction from Y/N, it seemed his flirting was too subtle. Either that or she was not into him. But he couldn’t give into that possibility just yet.

As time passed and Y/N became a more familiar face in the paddock, Charles’s flirtations became bolder. He’d constantly try to include her in conversations and would make up all kinds of excuses just to talk to her. Whenever he did manage to string her into another conversation, he’d try to make her laugh as much as he could. Simply because he could, and because he loved to see her happy and smiling. And if he was feeling really confident, he would even go as far as to touch her arm or the small of her back while they were chatting away or walking around the paddock together. Nevertheless, to Charles's frustration, Y/N didn’t seem to notice his underlying motives, dismissing his actions and words as nothing more than friendly gestures.

Meanwhile, everyone else who had ever been around the duo seemed to have caught sight of the one-sided infatuation and attempt at courtship. Everybody except for Y/N had noticed Charles was desperately trying to make his feelings for the girl obvious, but she simply kept friend-zoning him. Frankly, he found it embarrassing. 

Nearly all of Charles’s fellow drivers had been caught up in one of his attempts to woo Y/N while she simply brushed his compliments off as friendly comments. It was hard not to notice Charles’s fruitless flirting when he did it right in front of them, but they didn’t say anything about it. His colleagues merely exchanged knowing glances with others aware of the situation, amused at Charles’s futile attempts at winning Y/N over. But as time wore on, and Charles kept trying, at least a few of his colleagues started to comment on his persistence, calling him a simp, and joking about his poor flirting. Some suggested he should stop his pursuit of Y/N, as it seemed she wasn’t interested, but Charles was relentless: he would not quit until he knew for sure Y/N Sainz didn’t and would never like him.

And so, when Charles spotted Y/N walking through the paddock with Lando, one of the people in the paddock she got along with better, talking animatedly and laughing loudly with each other, he approached her once more; he would seize any opportunity to blatantly flirt with Y/N. He quickly caught up with the two, putting his hand on the small of her back as he matched his speed with theirs. “You’re absolutely radiant today, chérie” He greeted her with a cheeky grin.  

Y/N looked to her side, greeting the new presence “Hey, Charles!” As oblivious as always, she sweetly smiled up at him and replied, “Thanks! You’re such a sweet friend!”

Lando was a mere bystander in the situation as he observed the interaction, surprised and amused at the ease with which Y/N once again waved off the man who was so clearly crushing on her. He held his opinions back until Charles left, “Wow, you certainly have no trouble friend-zoning him, don’t you?” He commented.

Y/N cocked her head as she looked at him, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Lando laughed humourlessly, “Dear God, you really have no idea?” He paused, “Y/N, Charles has been flirting non-stop with you for ages. How on earth have you not noticed?”

She stopped walking and looked at him in confusion, “He’s not flirting with me, Lando, he’s just being nice. He’s a good friend.” 

“I’m actually quite sure he’s flirting with you, Y/N. So is everyone else. You could literally ask any of the drivers, and they would confirm it. The Ferrari employees too, I reckon. He likes you, Y/N.” He said unimpressed.

“Charles likes me?” She asked softly, suddenly turning shy, a blush creeping onto her face.

Lando sighed, realising his friend was even more oblivious than he initially thought. “Yeah, he does. I’m honestly surprised you’ve never noticed.” He gently squeezed her shoulder before they parted ways.

— — —

For the rest of the day, Y/N thought about Lando’s words. She thought about all her interactions with Charles over the last few months and realised that he did compliment her quite often. 

Once, on a sunny afternoon, Y/N was chatting with some of the Ferrari team members near the garage when Charles spotted her. He, as always, decided to walk over to talk with her, his usual charming smile on his face and mischief in his eyes.

"Y/N, only you can make a sunny day even brighter," he said with a big, playful smile and admiration in his voice.

Y/N blinked at him, surprised by his sudden appearance and his bold statement. "Oh, thank you, Charles! That's really sweet of you to say."

Unfazed by her obliviousness, Charles pressed on, determined to make his feelings known after such a long time. "No, really," he insisted, his gaze unwavering. "I mean it. You bring a brightness to the paddock that I can't quite explain."

Y/N laughed softly, “Well, um, thank you. That’s very kind. What can I say? I try my best.” She replied with a smile.

Another time, Y/N was in the team hospitality when she accidentally spilt her drink, leaving an obvious stain on her white shirt. Charles, who was, unsurprisingly, standing nearby (as always), had noticed immediately and courteously offered one of his extra Ferrari shirts. When he saw the girl he had liked for months in his clothes, wearing his driver’s number, he naturally couldn’t resist the urge to flirt with Y/N.

"Have I ever told you how stunning you look in red?" he remarked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and fondness at the sight of her.

Y/N laughed and replied, "No, I don't think you have," smiling at him in a friendly manner.

"Well, consider it said," he said, his tone playful. "You wear it better than anyone else, that's for sure."

Y/N laughed softly, appreciating her friend’s words, "I doubt that’s true, but thanks, Charles."

Thinking back to these moments, Y/N realised maybe Charles had indeed been flirting with her. However, he might just be like that with all of his friends, complimenting everyone he cares about. Nevertheless, now that Lando had brought this to her attention, she would surely pay extra attention to what Charles would say to her tomorrow.

— — —

The next day, Charles had caught her in a conversation again. They were talking about the race and the current situation with Ferrari. He mentioned the pressure from the team and all the fans that want him to do well, and that the car and the strategies aren’t working the way he wants them to. Of course, Y/N tried to reassure him; to relieve the pressure and stress Charles was feeling. He absolutely adored the way she was trying to comfort him and was not afraid to let her know, “I have to admit, Y/N, nobody can cheer me up like you can. You calm my nerves like no one else,” he said, looking at her lovingly while he expressed his feelings.

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. This was the first time she noticed he was flirting with her whilst he was actually doing it, and she had no idea how to react. When she felt her face heat up, she could only assume she was blushing from the nerves. She diverted her gaze, trying to come up with a good reply to Charles’s advances. How did she usually respond when Charles complimented her? She couldn’t remember now.

Charles was confused at Y/N’s lack of response to his remark. Normally, she’d immediately smile at him and thank him for whatever compliment he’d come up with, but now, she was looking away, and - was he seeing that right? Was she blushing? He had flirted with her countless times, but she had never blushed at any of his comments. Had she finally noticed his advances? Charles watched her with an amused smile while she searched for the right words.

Eventually, she shyly smiled at him, meeting his eyes in a fleeting glance before responding, “I’m glad to be of help.”

Charles, Charles, proud that he was the one to cause her flustered appearance, decided to push a little further, curious to see what would happen, “You really have no idea how much you mean to me, Y/N. Your support helps me so much.” Charles smiled gently and put his hand on her arm. When there’s no immediate response, he continues, “Anyway, I have to get ready for the race. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Y/N merely nodded and watched him walk away.

Her brother had been watching the interaction from a distance, observing the way his sister responded to Charles’s obvious flirting and, too, noticing the difference. “You finally figured it out, huh?” He said with a teasing smile. Y/N rolled her eyes at him in annoyance, but Carlos just continued, “You should let him know you like him too.” Y/N didn’t respond. “You do like him don’t you?” He asks, confused at her unresponsiveness. “Leave me alone, Carlos!” She replied, pushing her brother away. He laughed at her; that reaction was enough for him to know the answer to his question. He ruffled her hair and walked away, also needing to get ready for the race.

After her short talk with Charles, Y/N was sure that he liked her, but how to proceed? She could barely focus on the cars going around the track while all types of ideas were racing around in her head. What on earth was she supposed to do now? Should she wait until the next time Charles would flirt with her, or should she make the move instead? Considering Carlos’s advice, she decided she should take matters into her own hands.

She walked up to Charles as soon as she saw him entering the garage after the race. She had always thought Charles was incredibly attractive – like most women, but he looked especially handsome after he had raced.

“Hey, good job on the race!” She greeted Charles, pulling him into a hug. She looked at him for a second or two, contemplating whether she should actually do this. She smiled up at him shyly, “You know, I love the way your hair looks after a race.” She said blushing, running one of her hands through his messy hair. Charles is surprised at her comment, but he’s shocked at her hand in his hair. This is the first time she has complimented him – or at least, initiated it. Let alone, her touching him in such an intimate way. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at her in disbelief. It was now Charles’s turn to be flustered as Y/N finally reciprocated his attempts at flirting.

In his silence, Y/N decided to continue, “It’s hot.” She said, avoiding eye contact. Charles was unsure how to respond. He had never experienced a situation like this before; he always knew exactly what to say, but she had caught him off guard. After Y/N had friend-zoned him countless times, he was definitely not expecting this; he was not sure what to do.

The absence of a reply only made Y/N more nervous. She distanced herself from him, letting her hand fall from his hair, realising she probably shouldn’t have touched him without permission. Charles was quick to notice her retreat and held her face to stop her from leaving. He raised her chin to make their eyes meet and asked her softly, “Let me take you to dinner?” while he stared at her with adoration.

Y/N smiled at him fondly and nodded her head, “I’d like that, Charles. I’d really like that.” 

“Good,” He said firmly, his smile growing wider, matching hers. “I have to leave now for the debrief, but I’ll text you, okay?” 

Y/N nodded her head in response, letting out a hum. Charles pulled her face closer with the hand on her cheek, and fleetingly kissed her forehead before leaving, looking over his shoulder to catch her gaze one last time.

Y/N stood still in shock for a while, processing what just happened. She had agreed to go on a date with Charles. She was staring outside, letting the situation sink in as she watched people pass by in the busy paddock. Suddenly, she spotted Lando waving wildly at her, trying to get her attention. When he realised that she had seen him, he smiled mischievously and gave her a thumbs-up, assuming the kiss he saw Charles give her was a good sign. Y/N rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his nosiness, but Lando just laughed, amused at her bother and glad his meddling had helped.

[bbokicidal]

Smile For Me .:. Hwang Hyunjin .:. 10/10/2024

Genre : Smut Pairing : Ghostface!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Warnings : Height difference, mention of Hyunjin being physically bigger, stronger, taller, etc., face fucking (hard), rough sex, mirror sex, tiny surprise at the end !!

Notes : Again, a bit of a shorter post but I did my best here. I really had no motivation to write this bc of my brain feeling fried but I wanted to get it out for you guys. Ty for staying tuned. <3

Kinktober Day 4 of 10 : Size Difference w/ Hyunjin

Word Count : 3.3K

Next Post : 10/16/24

"What's a sweet thing like you doing at a party alone?"

The voice is enough to startle you into turning fully around, the drink in your hand sloshing aggressively in your cup and spilling over white knuckles. A gasp escapes your lips to show just how surprised you are by the man suddenly talking behind you. The voice changer definitely flipped a panic switch in your body.

"Well?" He questions.

The man is - well...

He's tall. Very tall, in fact, compared to you. Six foot at least if you had to guess. With broad shoulders and arms hanging down by his sides as he stands before you. The only reason you can even tell he's looking at you is because of the way his head tilts when you still fumble to answer; Though he doesn't seem to understand just yet that it's from both fear and arousal jolting through your limbs at the sight of a Ghostface costume looming over you.

The man's head cocks once more, a gentle nudge in an attempt to get an answer. Subtle prying.

You fumble, spit coating your lower lip as it escapes your teeth. "Just - came to drink."

Stupid answer to a genuine (?) question. Now this man - potentially.. dangerous - knew that you actually were alone and drinking by yourself.

Then again, even if he was potentially dangerous; He was undeniably sexy.

Or maybe that was your inner mask kink screaming.

The man leans in further to close the distance between your bodies, taking one step forward in a heavy combat boot that nearly stepped on the pink of your heel. Your eyes stay on the mask glaring down at you and as he leans in, you get the slightest glimpse of dark eyes hidden beneath the black mesh.

A soft tug pulls on your skirt, and when you look down you realize it's his hand pinching the fabric.

"You got a boyfriend hangin' around here, doll?"

You swallow, every word you thought to say somehow lumping in your throat. What about him was making it so hard to speak?

"I..."

His head tips upwards when someone calls for him, but with your ears ringing and head spinning from the closeness of his warmth - and his heavy cologne weighing down on his costume - you'd never even heard the name called that had summoned him.

He lets out a breath that you swear you can almost feel even if it's trapped behind the mask. Straightening up, looming over you once more, he takes his leave in slow and planned steps around your frame. His hand drags over the soft skin of your thigh as he passes, the leather glove making goosebumps raise in pink.

"Coming..~"

.

The alcohol had taken its toll whether you liked it or not - and it was time to break the seal. Unless you wanted to piss all over the couch.

The drunken contemplation makes you chuckle to yourself, eyes rolling back as your lips split in a silly grin, while your hand escapes the frosted - and spiked - root beer float sitting on the end table. With a soft excuse of your body, you slip off of the couch cushion that had held your weight to make way for the restroom just down the hallway.

It's a little wobble here and there, but you manage to make it to the bathroom door with the sturdy support of the pretty blue walls adorning the campus home. And just as you reach for the doorknob, you realize it's - very close to you. The door is shut, locked actually, and you blink a few times in realization that someone was already in there.

The knob twists once, then jerks away from your hold. You step forward and lull to look up at the poor person you'd disturbed - only to be met with the sight of the familiar slasher from earlier - buttoning the black jeans that he adorns underneath the costume he wears. And you just can't help but stare at the way his long fingers prod at the fabric of the gloves, pushing the button through the hole in the denim and seeing the way the visible bulge beneath the fabric seems to grow more defined.

He sighs out behind the mask, head tipping closer to his shoulder as if analyzing you and just why you're there - yet again in front of him. You can't see it - but his brow cocks behind his mask.

"Pervert."

And you jolt, nearly jumping out of your skin once again at the voice changer. You shudder out a breath, looking up finally at the mask once more. There's a person underneath there, you have to remember. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." His voice lulls into a soft growl at the end, coming closer to where you stand in the hallway, frozen. You think he'll close the distance once more - but he stops short in the doorway. And you think you're safe.

Until he's lifting an arm to rest against the frame, making himself look even taller than previously. His free hand tucks down into his pocket, pushing up his costume so you can clearly see where it goes.

"But did you need something?"

Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and as you breathe out you end up whining. "I really need to pee."

The man behind the mask pauses. Visibly halts. Before a rumbling chuckle escapes his chest, distorted and cracking with the voice changer. "Alright, can't deny you that right." He steps aside from the frame and gestures into the bathroom. "To your throne, my lady."

It was at that moment that you realized - even if he was a hot masked man at a Halloween party - he was definitely a loser in a hot body.

.

One hour later is when you finally spot it.

You see him; out of the corner of your eye, lurking by the kitchen island and facing your direction as to see if you'll catch him looking directly at you. He's making it blatantly obvious that he's staring and that's what he's trying to do - wanting to gauge your reaction, see if you'll notice and catch on.

And when you do, you stare back for a moment as your friend babbles to a man beside her about some group drama happening the week prior.

He doesn't move.

Your head slowly tips to the left, his mirroring to the right. And you're very sure then that he's keeping his eyes on you and waiting for you to make a move.

The buzz in your chest could be from the alcohol - or the bubbling arousal that had already begun to seep towards your core.

Turning from your spot and gently slipping past your friend, you make your way back towards the hallway you had previously met him in. Pausing at the entrance, you turn to look over your shoulder and see him slipping away from his own friends to trail after your retreating form.

Like he'd let you get away that easily.

.

Your body is so compliant with him - bending to his every will and leaning into his touch even if it's not skin to skin. Your throat burns from where he had his hand wrapped around it, fingers tight enough to make you worry about the lack of air slipping down your trachea and into your lungs. But nothing - can draw your attention away from the heat pooling between your thighs - and the way his free hand had already slipped down to caress the softness of your center. It's as if he's attempting to ease the ache, even if he's only making it worse.

Your hands had just found home on his sides when he had begun to push down on your throat; But not in a way that restricted breathing. He was guiding you down towards the ground and your body, ever wanting, once again complied.

Sinking to your knees and letting your hands drag from his sides to his hips, the man above you looks - far larger than he ever had that evening. Looming? No. Towering over you now. With thick, heavy thighs right in your face and a bulge pressing against the denim of his jeans, he bunches the length of the costume in one hand and tucks it into the sides of the denim waistband so it's out of the way. Easy access, he's sure, watching as you sit so patiently in front of his pulsing cock.

He sighs out once more and lowers his head in a sharp nod, gesturing for you to do the work. You seem happy enough to do so - fingers fumbling with the button you'd stared at earlier in the night and tugging at the fly of his jeans. It rips downwards and he has to sway forward at the way you so eagerly pull the denim down his thighs, revealing tight briefs that outline his cock so perfectly.

And you can tell even without looking right at it that he's big.

He's almost surprised at the way you tug on his waistband, yanking the black fabric down as far as you can without completely stripping him. Hovering just above his knees, the fabric pulls at the simple mass of the muscle it wraps around.

The sight of his cock is godly.

Perfectly straight, pink at the tip with a slit leaking pre that just begs to be touched by your tongue. Thick and so heavy that it weighs down, refusing to touch the fabric covering his lower torso.

"What are you waiting for, slut?"

The moment he spots your tongue sliding out along your bottom lip - the softest hint of parted lips - he's pushing his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

The back of your head bumps the wall as spit drips from your pretty, plump lips - pooled on the back of your tongue just from the earlier sight of his cock waiting to be smothered by your walls; Your throat. You huff out and a soft whine of pain rings from your vocal cords, but he can't truly be bothered too much to care.

The feeling of his cock weighing heavy on your tongue is enough to drown out any pain you'd felt from the simple bump and grind of his hips pressing your head into the wall behind you. He rolls forward, slow, the tip of his pretty length rubbing against the back of your throat in an effort to make you gag. And when you do, he chuckles - the sound still distorted and crackling with use.

And though he'd just filled your throat without care for the ache that the stretch created against your cheeks - He did care about your safety, and was kind enough to slide a gloved hand down the back of your skull. It's resting there, gentle at first; Before he's fisting locks of your hair between his fingers and using it as leverage to thrust his hips right up against your face. Over, and over. And over. Until you're choking on his cock and spit is dripping down your chin in a foamy froth that, to him, proves just how much you're willing to give

He may be playing nice for just a moment, but it doesn't last too long as he pulls you in closer to him and buries your nose against the dark, coarse, curly hair bunched at the base of his length.

He grins behind the mask, chuckling again when he finally lets go of you and allows you to remove yourself from his cock. Your gasps fill his chest with -- pride? The feeling swells, feeling as though it might burst from the way you sit back against the wall and look up at him with glossy eyes that silently beg for more.

"Come here, pretty girl."

Reaching down, large hands grasp at your sides to pull you to your feet. Your knees ache, bruised from the ground you'd been pushed and pulled against as his cock violated your throat for what felt like at least twenty minutes - even if it had really only been just over five.

"Right there. That's right." He maneuvers you with ease, turning your body away from him so you can bend yourself over the side of the mattress in the middle of the room. The scent of the sheets is wildly familiar - a sudden memory of your friend Chris entering your head. He'd worn a cologne just like this at a party the previous weekend. And as you peek open your eyes, you realize you've seen these sheets before.

Of course it was his room you'd wandered into so blindly.

The memory of your dear friend escapes almost as soon as it comes, washed from your mind as the man behind you - above you - around you - leans down close enough so his chest can press against the swell of your back. His hands snake around the warmth of your sides, feeling over the pink of your dress as he hums in a low tone behind the mask. The sound is muffled - muted, to you - but it's made so painfully obvious by the way his chest vibrates with every low sound that escapes him.

His hands press further, running over the expanse of your ribcage before gripping at your body to pull you back. It's a quick jerking motion, one that makes you tumble back into him and fall to your elbows on the sheets you had spent nights in before. A sound escapes, a gasp of shock and relief as his bare cock slides against your panties from behind.

The man seems fond of your body, as if appreciating it while his hands run over your form. They leave your abdomen to lull higher, cupping the swell of your breasts and giving a subtle squeeze that leaves you wanting more - just as he pulls them away. He removes himself from above you, the lack of warmth making you lift your head and whimper in soft complaint.

You find yourself staring into a mirror - directly across from where he had laid you on the bed. Perched on your elbows, back arched, ass up for him. You can see clear as day the way his hand slides over your rear and down your thigh, reaching to hook a finger in your panties and pull back on them until he can let go and let the lace snap against your dripping slit.

The sound that leaves your lips is to die for.

His finger hooks back in the lace and pulls, this time to the side so he can move his hips in and press the tip of his cock to your pretty little hole. Waiting for him, dripping slick that leaks down your thighs and clenching around nothing as your body aches for him. Yearns for him.

You don't even know who he is and yet you're so desperate.

"Fuck -- Yes," You breathe heavy, your body gently lulling forward in a sway as he presses into your gummy walls with ease. It's a tight fit for him - he can't deny that - and it really is something he'd never forget. His body aches for more; Craves for more. So he snaps his hips forward almost immediately in a way that causes you to cry out louder than before.

He huffs, chest rising and falling in quick motions underneath the costume he wore. He couldn't help the way he breathed so heavy, especially with the mask on and wanting to keep it for a while longer so you would remain guessing and wanting to know who he is.

His hips snap in quick succession. His hands, rid of the gloves after he'd thrown them aside in anger that he couldn't properly feel the curves of your body with them on, grip tight at your his. His fingertips dig in and he uses his hold to pull you back onto his cock as he rocks forward, every motion so quick that even watching in the mirror is one big blur for you.

The way he snaps his cock into your walls, tip pressing to your cervix and kissing at it every other push; The way his body begins to drop down closer to yours the more he ruts into you in desperation for release.

He's nearly flush to your back now; Moaning and huffing and panting out in want for more, even if he's rutting his hips against your own as fast as he possibly can, the poor bed frame squeaking beneath the force he places down upon you.

But he refuses to give in so easily. That - or he gives up.

Sitting up and lifting a hand to the mask, his fingers curl in the black fabric and pull hard, ripping it from his head and shoulders. The reveal renders you speechless - the soft moans previously leaving your lips now silent as you stare up at him in admiration.

Hwang Hyunjin ; A quieter, kinder boy you'd only known from a Biology class the two of you shared. He sat kitty-corner to you at a table next to Chris, bumping their knees together to annoy the senior and giggling when Changbin - another senior of his - threw paper balls at the back of his head during class.

He always seemed so... booksmart. Nerdy. Dorky.

The reveal of his perfectly structured face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat really proved the fact that he is a loser in a hot body.

But you'd be straight lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love the way sweat began to bead and drip down the sides of his face, pooling and falling from his chin in a way that proved his effort.

"Oh my -- God," You choke on your words, staring up at your classmate through the mirror painting the wall across from you.

Plump lips curl into a knowing smirk. You hadn't suspected it to be him - Had you? You'd never seen the confident, sexually charged side of him that came out when he was outside of class - partying or dancing or rapping with his friends at karaoke. The cocky bastard that wanted the girl no one could get. (Oh, wait. That's you.)

"No need to keep staring, baby," He chuckles, his voice finally cleared of the distortion and truly his own. Low, raspy. As if he'd just woken up. "I'll find a way to make this moment last forever."

While your lips part in questioning and a soft sound leaves your throat to give him a shy reply, his fingers curl into your hair from behind. The locks, thick and heavy with sweat from the events of the night, tangle between thick knuckles that grip so tight you're sure he's never going to let go. Hyunjin tugs - no, pulls - back on your head to let your back arch in a way that made you nearly scream in pleasure as he continued pounding his hips into your own.

"C'mon. Come here, baby."

Pulling just a little more taught, Hyunjin lets himself slump forward. HIs chest presses just barely to your shoulders as he leans down, free hand slinging around to your front holding a small black camera that looks as if it'd come straight out of 2009.

As the camera clicks to life and the red light blinks in warning that the flash is coming your way, Hyunjin snakes his hand down from your hair to wrap around your throat instead. Your face, flushed and painted red with want and admiration, is in clear view of the small screen on the opposite side of the camera. "That's it..."

Hyunjin coos, biting into his lower lip as his thumb presses a bit harder down on the shutter button.

The red light blinks again and the flash springs to life, blinding you momentarily as if your sex-ridden haze wasn't enough.

"Smile for me, baby."

Taglist : @crybabykurominho @softkisshyunjin @minniesverse @dwaekkicidal @lixies-favorite-cookie @bookheadeily @jeonginsleftcheek @madkati @jisunglyricist @millseyes-world @warpedspirit @lovetaroandtaemin @ka0ila

@jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

[grandline-fics]

Do you think I can request a seamstress y/n being part of the strawhat crew and how they need to make new outfits for the crew as disguises and when it came to luffys turn, it was kinda difficult for them because they have a huge crush on him and seeing him bare for measurements kills them a little-

Kinda just a sorta oblivious luffy witnessing y/n get flustered a little!

Really curious how you’re going to make it end lol

(Love your writing sm! Thank you for advanced!)

DESCRIPTION: You’re the crew’s seamstress and measuring Luffy leaves you flustered 

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 934

A/N:  Sorry this took so long but I hope it was worth it and that you like how it all turned out

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When it came to your passion of designing and making clothes you were unbelievably focussed. It was to the point that if the crew wanted to distract you from something they’d bring up the topic of a new design they had in mind. Some of the crew were more subtle about this tactic than others, for instance when Sanji needed you away from the kitchen for a few hours so he could work on your surprise birthday banquet, Robin expertly brought up a floral skirt and top combination she wanted to wear but couldn’t find the right colour scheme anywhere.

On that occasion you’d gotten so motivated that by the time you were needed for the banquet you had to be physically dragged out of your workshop. Oppositely there was one time Zoro had stolen your dressmaker’s mannequin to test out which angle would be best to attack someone from for his new technique. When you’d found out and went to rescue your possession Zoro had tried the distraction method but merely said ‘buttons’ which only bewildered you for the briefest of moments before you took back what was yours while it was thankfully still in tact. Yes, there was no way your focus could be shaken when it came to your work…well except when it came to your Captain. Your very oblivious Captain. 

You kept telling yourself that it was just a crush, that he didn’t feel that way about you and he was just affectionate and energetic by nature and you were good with that, you really were. The last thing you ever wanted to do was jeopardise the amazing friendship you’d made with Luffy. So you kept your crush to yourself and things continued as normal. The only time things threatened to reveal themselves was at moments like these. The ship was heading into dangerous territory governed by another rival pirate which meant keeping as low a profile as possible and that meant they were depending on you for appropriate disguises. 

“Luffy please just stand still.” You lightly begged, watching your Captain excitedly move about your workspace, touching the bolts of different fabrics and flicking through your design book with glee like it was his very first time in the room when in reality you’d lost count how often his presence had been in and out. At your plea he stopped running his fingers through the soft patterned material that had caught his attention and turned to face you with his usual carefree grin. You sighed in relief and slowly reached for your measuring tape while trying to keep your expression as relaxed as possible. This was always the hard part so you just tried to go as quickly as possible. “Shirt off.”

You had no problem seeing any of the other guys shirtless, yeah most of them were impressive but the only one to get you  to be a shaking, blushing mess was Luffy. When Luffy’s hands moved to his shirt you dropped your gaze away, mostly out of respect but also because you could already hear your heart slamming against your chest and feel your skin begin to heat. When you heard the fabric of his shirt fall on the ground you looked up, trying to keep your gaze focussed on Luffy’s eyes but you couldn’t help but let it drop for the briefest of moments to peek at his impressive physique. Snapping out of it you instructed quickly. “Arms out.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl when Luffy grinned and extended his arms out to you as though inviting you in for a hug as opposed to putting his arms outward so you could accurately measure his frame. You knew it wasn’t his intention to fluster you like this, it was just Luffy being Luffy but it made things so much harder to deal with. Resisting the urge to give in to temptation you took hold of Luffy’s wrist and pulled to manoeuvre him correctly. Quickly you stood behind him and began to lift your tape towards him. With every adventure and fight meant Luffy’s body got only more and more defined and it made measuring him a greater struggle.

It was a relief that you managed to make it through most of the process without making too much of an idiot of yourself but by the end of it all you were beet red and trying to look anywhere but the cause. Through it all Luffy was his happy, oblivious self, talking excitedly about the disguise he wanted but when you stepped away he finally took a proper look at you. “Huh? Are you feeling okay?” He asked, leaning in closer and pressing his hand against your head. However that action meant his still bare chest was against you too which only made your condition worse. “You shouldn’t have been working if you’re sick. I’ll go get Chopper, okay?”

“N-no! I’ll be fine!” Your guilt for making him worry managed to pull you back from your inner spiral. “I’m just…too warm! Something cool to drink and I’ll be back to normal.” You reassured only for Luffy to grin and pull you out of your workshop and straight to the kitchen so you could cool down. Finally feeling more yourself and no longer overheating thanks to Luffy sitting back you could focus on the design. “So you never said what colours you wanted for this disguise, Luffy.”

Luffy blinked at you and gave you a look as though you were the oblivious one. “Well as long as it matches you I’ll be happy.”

[soft-mafia]

14 Days [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, smut, cream pie, pussy slapping, not proof read oops, blue balling

a/n: I genuinely need more motivation bc work is kicking my assssssss😭I found that writing in kind of a half fic half headcanon style is much easier when I’m having a hard time writing out really detailed fics, so I might try this until I get some fuel back. I imagined this to be OPLA Buggy but I’m pretty sure this can work for anime/manga Bug too!

• Buggy had some berries to spare, so he blew it all on his own little private island. It wasn’t anything special, a small desolate island with a single cabin right in the middle of the forest. He figured he could surprise you with it, chill there for a couple of days with all the privacy you two could ask for.

• After arriving on the island, bringing a bag of some belongings with you, Buggy left Cabaji and Mohji in charge of the crew for the time being(which still managed to cause a fight between the two). He’d promise to send them a carrier bat when he was ready to be picked up.

• Buggy told himself only two days.. how that turned into two weeks was beyond his knowledge.

Y/n was sitting in front of the campfire that she and Buggy had built, she was wrapped up in his coat, staring into the flames until Buggy’s footsteps crunched up behind her. He kneeled down, then sat with her in between his legs, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Y/n smiled and leaned into his embrace, leaning back and resting her head against his bicep.

“This is kind of nice actually.” Y/n said softly. Buggy looked down at her, a soft smile on his face, “See? I told you!” He chuckled, holding her closer and resting his chin on her shoulder, cheek pressed into the crook of her neck, “I told you I’d make some time for you.”

His long blue hair was down from its usual pony tails, letting it drape down his shoulders and back. Buggy tilted his head so he could place a kiss on Y/n’s nape, his stubble scratched against her skin lightly and gave her subtle goosebumps. “Mm.” She let out a soft moan at that action, earning a grin out of him, and more kisses trailing up her neck. He then brought a hand up to brush her hair back so he could kiss behind her ear.

He tilted her face towards him, then leaned in so that their lips could connect, he held the side of her face. Y/n tilted her head so his nose couldn’t get in the way and ruin the moment for him, their lips molded against each other, both of them letting out quiet noises with each smack of the lips.

Buggy let out a quiet, breathy groan as he turned, still keeping their lips centimeters apart as he slowly got on top of Y/n, laying her down onto the blanket they were sitting on, his jacket that was draped around her shoulders was now sprawled out around her, giving her a soft cushion for her to lay on. Once she was on her back he continued to kiss her, his hands moving up and down her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one of her hands holding the back of his head so she could get a grip of his hair and run her fingers through his scalp.

Buggy then worked on taking his belt off and pulling his pants below his hips, as well as taking off Y/n’s shorts. They breathed against each other into the kiss, their breaths hot. Buggy began to hump Y/n through his boxers to get some friction going, holding onto her hips firmly. He let out breathy grunts rhythmic to his thrusts, one arm came up to rest beside of Y/n’s head to balance himself, hand on top of her head to gently pet her.

Y/n moaned, tilting her head back as she felt Buggy’s hard bulge humping through her panties. Buggy looked into her eyes, letting out a quiet, growly chuckle under his breath, “That’s it, baby..” he whispered, his voice gravelly and low.

Buggy sat up for a moment and yanked his boxers down to free his cock, it bobbed out freely, he then took two fingers to move Y/n’s panties to the side so he could slide his cock in. They both let out deep moans and groans. Buggy held Y/n’s waist as she arched her back snd whimpered, feeling him deep into her belly, “Mmmm.. f-fuck..” she breathed out. Buggy licked the corner of his mouth, thrusting forward and letting out a deep grunt when he pushed in deep, “There we go.” He chuckled before leaning back down to his previous position, still keeping a hold on Y/n’s waist to steady her. He buried his face into the crook of her neck again, his nose pressing up behind her ear as he licked and sucked on her neck, stubble scratching against her skin but it added to the sensation.

Buggy’s fluff of pubic hair tickled Y/n’s clit, making her tremble and mewl, “Aaahhh.. hhahh~” she whimpered breathily, Buggy growled and let out guttural moans as he thrusted, plowing into her. Y/n held onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his hips. Buggy grit his teeth, letting out grunts and strained breaths as he thrusted his hips faster and rougher, chasing that orgasmic feeling, “Fuck, baby..” he grumbled into her neck, making her shiver and moan out.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and let out a growl, hips stammering a bit, but he gained his rhythm with a shaky grunt, “I’m so fucking close.” He growled, bringing his other hand up now so he could hold Y/n’s head, pressing theirs lips together once more in another heated makeout session as they both came to their orgasms.

Y/n was squirming, trembling around Buggy, whimpering throughout the kiss. Buggy laughed, tilting his head back before grunting roughly and thrusting deep, then pulling out quickly to spill his seed onto her stomach, painting her little belly with fat ropes of his thick cum. They were both panting heavily, Buggy held the base of his cock and gently rubbed his tip over Y/n’s clit, spreading her juices around. Y/n looked down at Buggy’s cum on her stomach, then looked up at him through her lashes.

Buggy’s hair draped down either side of his face like curtains, to which he flipped to the side before giving her another wet kiss on the lips.

• Afterwards, Buggy carried you back to the cabin to clean up, wrapping you up in his jacket like a little cocoon.

• He gave you a warm bath, hand feeding you cherries and other small fruits, finding the way the fruit rested on your bottom lip as you bit into it, paired with the way you leaned over the rim of the tub, so innocent yet arousing none the less.

He sat on the lid of the toilet right beside the tub, he goofed around a bit with her, splashing her face with some of the water while she nagged him about bathing himself.

“Bath water isn’t gonna fucking kill you.” She teased, “You’ve literally been walking around this place shirtless in the same fucking pants ever since we got here.”

“It’s only our first day here, babe. And I changed my pants twice actually.” He stated, as if that made anything better.

“You’re sweaty.” Y/n rested her arms on the side of the tub. “So?” Buggy scoffed, his elbows on his knees.

“Get your ass in this god damn tub.”

• The majority of the time spent on this island consisted of fucking, and goofing around, but mostly fucking. This had actually been the most times you two have had sex, and you two have sex a lot.

• Buggy literally lost track of reality inside of your pussy, 2 days became 4 days, and then that became a week.

• His crew began to get worried, their captain had promised to send them a heads up to come and get them after two days.. but what gives?! Was there some strange creature lurking on the island that killed Captain Buggy and his girlfriend?

Buggy sat on his knees on the bed, grunting softly as he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his bare torso, fluffy chest hair that connected perfectly to his happy tail, all the way down to his belt line, it didn’t take long for him to wrangle his pants and belt off and toss them away.

Y/n was rubbing her finger over her clit, being a bit impatient while Buggy undressed— until he quickly snatched her hand away and gave her pussy a few good slaps, “Hey. I didn’t say you could touch.” He mumbled, sending an aroused chill through Y/n’s body, right down to her pussy which made her thighs press together instinctively.

She let out a giggle as Buggy forced her legs open again. He laughed under his breath after smacking his lips together, “Little tease aren’t ya?” He mumbled before motioning her to sit up and come to him with his hands, she quickly sat up and crawled over to him, the bed squeaking slightly underneath her. Buggy grabbed her chin and tilted her head so he could kiss her, licking over her bottom lip before taking it into his mouth, sucking on it until it was swollen before kissing her again.

Buggy hadn’t shaved in a while, so kisses were more rough, but Y/n adjusted pretty quickly, it added to the sensation when he ate her pussy.

Buggy leaned against the headboard and spread his legs out, letting Y/n come closer to straddle his lap. He slung his arms around her shoulders as they kissed again, he held the back of her head as she began to grind her pussy against his shaft, making him groan deeply. She whimpered into the kiss.

This was probably the 3rd time they’ve had sex today, the room smelled like cum and sweat, Y/n still had loads leaking from her pussy from previous rounds, pussy sore and still clenching, her mind completely fucked out.

Buggy just couldn’t get enough; he was having the time of his life right now. He was about to guide her hips onto his cock until—

“Captain?! Captain?!” The sound of the door breaking down, followed by Cabaji’s concerned voice along with the murmurs and voices from other crew members.

Buggy grunted and quickly stood up, “Wha- shit. Why the fuck are they here?!”

Y/n squeaked lightly as she was accidentally pushed back by Buggy standing up so suddenly, rushing to put on his boxers, “Probably because we’ve been here for two weeks, maybe!” She huffed, watching Buggy stumble to pull his underpants up.

The door to the bedroom was kicked down, “Captai—..!” Mohji shouted, about 4 crew mates were crammed into the door way. Buggy nearly fell over, trying to cover up his still exposed dick, “GET OUT!! GET OUT!!” He looked a wreck, his long blue hair tangled and messy, covered in sweat.

Y/n had covered up her body with a blanket, eyes wide and embarrassed.

“GET BACK TO THE DAMN SHIP WE’LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!! DAMMIT!!” He detached one of his arms to shove everybody out of the doorway and slam the door in their faces, the sound of muttered grunts and curses from Buggy could be heard by the pirates from inside the room.

Buggy was blue balled, and grumpy as he made his way back to the Big Top with you. He didn’t want his crew to saw a damn thing, silencing all of them once he set foot back on the deck.

• Over time, trips to the island became more frequent once you two got a schedule going.

• Whenever you two had some free time to spare, you’d go on little vacations to this island for 3 weeks before the crew came to pick you guys up.

• Buggy got to do 3 of his favorite things during your little vacations; eat, drink, and fuck the shit out of you.

[lueurjun]

guitarist boyfriend! jay

popstar!reader x guitarist boyfriend jay! in which you’re supplied with a new guitarist who just so happens to end up falling hopelessly in love with you. a/n—if this is bad, don’t blame me. it was a spur of the moment spark of motivation.

gather around and hold hands because this is everything to me

YOU GUYS are everything to me

that micheal scott meme where he’s holding jim and pam’s hands… that’s what it looks like. me holding you guys by the hands because i just love u both so much. i am apart of this relationship. i am the captain of this ship. the leader of- okay you get it

guitarist jay and his global popstar partner?? stop before i cry

okay ! let’s get started with how you guys came to be

it all started because your guitarist decided to seize an opportunity to permanently work for another pop star

traitor. i’ll set them on fire. ( for legal reasons that’s a joke ).

and you’re all for new opportunities and such but they happened to leave smack bang in the middle of your world tour

three hours before your concert

someone hand me a lighter rn-

so not only are you set to perform in front of a sold out stadium, in a country you’re not too familiar with, but you’re left with no guitarist either

cue the emotional meltdown backstage with all your stylists and staff around trying to calm you down

imagine you’re filming a documentary and they put in the scene where you’re sat on the floor just sobbing whilst people rush around you- the way i’d sue my own team

anyways lucky for you, yang jungwon is on your team — and he has a friend who has exceptional talent on the guitar, who also happens to be in the area

how convenient, it’s almost like this was written in the stars

jay arrives but he doesn’t even get to say hi to you before he’s carted off by your manager to be coached for the performance

so you really only saw the back of his head through teary eyes

but according to your stylist, he’s one hell of a babe

stylist is me btw lemme wipe away your tears. come here, pretty

you take their word for it and just try to mentally prepare for the concert ahead after the shock of being blindsided

it’s not until 5 minutes before you go on that you officially get to meet jay

and suddenly the concept of workplace crushes makes sense to you because bro looks like he’s just stepped out of a vogue magazine

models should be thankful he picked the idol industry

he looks super nervous as he shakes your hand, he’s all jittery and it makes your heart swell

of course, he’s polite as ever as he compliments your work and all that you do and expresses how much of an honour it is to play for you

he’s laying it on thick but i would too if i was in your presence tbh- you’re everything embedded in gold

there’s not much time for conversation before the pair of you are being ushered into position, but you catch the wink he gives you before he stalks away with the rest of the band

and you certainly don’t miss the knowing grin you receive from your drummer, sunoo

suddenly, you’re taking deep breaths to ease your pounding heart which is going crazy

not because of the thousands that are about to watch you perform live, but because of the small interaction you just shared with jay

oh you are so cooked- but personally, if i was jay, i’d never wash my hand again after shaking yours

anyways the performance goes smoothly, and jay excels just as jungwon said he would

you were surprised at how easy it was for him to get into the swing of things

and your fans seemed to love the new addition given ‘y/n’s guitarist’ trends on twitter afterwards

needless to say, concert one with jay is a great success so much so that he secures a permanent spot as your brand new guitarist

yesss bros getting a major bag and YOU? he’s living the dream fr

as the shows progress, you and jay seem to gravitate closer both on stage and off

if you’re not hanging out constantly, then you’re sharing winks and subtle glances across the stage whilst you’re performing

and as expected: a ship begins to set sail

your fans are begging for it to happen. your friends are begging for it to happen.

i’m begging for it to happen

and finally, it does.

jay bites the bullet and asks you out on a date

what’s the worst that can happen? you say no, oh wow-

we’re on a floating rock lovelies. shoot your shot 🫨

luckily for jay, you didn’t say no. in fact, you were more than delighted to say yes

onto the relationship because this is so long, i always do this

right off the bat he is OBSESSED with you

but would he swim across the ocean to get to you? i would. i would, y/n.

heart eyes constantly

so much so that fans literally have 30 min compilations on youtube of him just staring at you as though you were an aurora dancing across the sky

blowing kisses at him as you’re performing

alexa play that should be me

your discography is so shamelessly dedicated to him

everyone eats it up

iconic paparazzi photos

jay having you sat on his lap to teach you the guitar and him leaving gentle kisses against the nape of your neck

sighhhhh genuinely why do i do this to myself? someone take over because i am DEPRESSED

if you’re already able to play guitar, i can see the pair of you doing a little duet where you just stare at each other all 😍😍 whilst playing at each other

wearing one of his picks on a necklace

him having your name written on his guitar

also you get special treatment and your band members make sure you know it

“i moved his guitar out of the way so it didn’t get trampled on and he grabbed sunoo’s drum stick and threatened to shove it down my throat but you touch it and all of a sudden roses grow from his eyes? disgusting.”

sunghoon has had enough

yapping about him during interviews with the brightest smile on your face

this would be me as a celeb- i would not be able to keep my life private i’m a certified yapper

if you want to go for the more private approach

subtle exchanges on stage

it would be like private but not secret

cuddles backstage !!!

being seen wearing each others tour jackets when leaving the venue

crawling into his bunk on the tour bus late at night after everyone has fallen asleep but also being the last to wake up so everyone knows you’re in there anyway

him shielding your face from all the flashes of the camera

protective jay is everything to me.

he’ll definitely be your plus one to any event

and the two of you absolutely steal the show every single time

he also supplies your fandom with memes of you and they thank him for it

i better stop here because i’m getting too carried away shsjsjsk and i’m pretty sure i strayed off the prompt 😭

overall, you and jay? dream couple ☁️🤍

[dark-fics-4-you]

Ex Friends with Benefits ch III

dark!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader x dark!Topper Thorton

Warnings: noncon, smut, threesome, drugging, drinking, unprotected sex, cream pie, revenge sex, oral (m!receiving), degradation, guilt tripping

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe’s fingers tightened into fists at his side at the mention of your name, lip curling as he frowned. “No, she’s been avoiding me actually, Top.”

“Damn Rafe, I thought you two were finally getting closer,” Topper joked suggestively with a raised eyebrow.

“She’s just playing hard to get. You know how all those uptight rich bitches are. Can’t admit what they actually want,” Rafe replied bitterly and Topper laughed.

You flashed across his memory, the way you used to glance at him secretly when you were with others. How sometimes when you sat by each other while eating, he would trace his fingers across your bare thighs under the table and tease you in front of all of your friends, who were none the wiser to his touches.

Anger rose in him when he remembered the last time he had seen you, how you had told him you wanted a break. Yeah, fucking right.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what that meant.

You were done with him.

But there was no way in hell that Rafe was done with you.

“Well if I had to put money on it, I’d say she doesn’t want anything to do with you. I bet you finally scared her off with your fucking staring,” at that, Rafe whipped his head at Topper, glaring. But Topper only laughed. “Yeah, of course I noticed that shit too. You’re not exactly subtle, Rafe.”

The Kook king scoffed at that, venom thick in his voice when he hissed back, “You don’t know anything, Top.”

“Oh yeah? Try me, you know I always thought Y/N was sexy as hell,” the challenge in Topper’s voice was clear, and competitive bravado rose in Rafe’s chest.

A sick thought flashed across his mind. One that he couldn’t ignore.

If he really wanted, he could have you so god damn cock drunk you’d let Topper fuck you too.

Sure it might take a little extra liquid motivation, but that was never something you had shied away from.

And besides, Rafe was getting pissed at the fact that you had been ignoring his calls and texts.

How long were you planning on acting like he didn’t exist anymore?

It wasn’t right. You used to be his best friend, the two of you did everything together. He had spent so much time with you recently that he felt empty without you around.

And the fact that you could just break things off like it was nothing? Over one little mistake?

It made his blood fucking boil.

Rafe set up a line quickly, snorting it before he leaned back, expression stormy. He stared at the coke on the table, before his expression changed.

“You should invite her to your party this weekend, Top. I promise you, she’ll be all over both of us,” Rafe smirked, glancing at his friend as his plan came together in his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You smiled at Topper as he returned with your second drink, some fruity concoction that tasted like there was a lot of rum in it.

“Thanks Topper!” You followed him through his house to the living room, snaking your way through his packed house.

You took another swig as you sat down on the couch, eyeing the array of drugs that were laid on the table before you.

“And you’re sure Rafe’s not gonna be here tonight?” You questioned the blond nervously as he sat beside you.

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen him, the night he had pushed your boundaries too far for you comfort. You hadn’t talked with your friend since, too nervous to answer the phone or reach out to him first.

“Um, yeah he shouldn’t be here. But if he is, I’ll keep him away from you,” Topper winked and you chuckled, shaking your head a bit.

You took another sip of your drink, already feeling tipsy, but the night was young and you wanted to get a little high too, so you asked Topper to set up a line for you.

You leaned over the table, snorting the (admittedly large) line

Sniffing, you rubbed under your nose to make sure you got all of it. You had never been one to back away from a challenge.

“Oh fuck, that was a lot,” you laughed as the head rush hit you hard.

“Do you wanna do another?” Topper asked you.

“Shit Top, slow down, gimme a second. You’re tryin to get me too fucked up,” the two of you laughed at your joke, Topper rolling his eyes, but your slight protest didn’t stop him from setting up two more lines.

You reclined against the couch, not surprised when Topper did the same beside you. You could feel the warmth of his leg and torso beside you, and you were surprised when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Is this okay, Y/N? I just get a bit cuddly when I’m high.” Your friend asked, and you hesitated for a second before nodding.

It was just Topper, you reasoned with yourself. He had been in love with Sarah Cameron for years. You knew that this was nothing more than innocent affection.

“Here, have more of your drink,” Topper shifted, reaching to the table to grab your cocktail before handing it to you.

“Ah thanks! I almost forgot about it.” You took a few gulps, enjoying the flavor of the drink Topper had made for you.

You were beginning to feel well past buzzed, the mix of coke and alcohol blurring your vision at the edges. The music in the house was loud, bass thumping against the walls and making your head hurt.

You realized that Topper was talking to you when you heard him repeat your name twice, his hand falling onto your thigh.

“Mm, what?” You turned your head towards him, and he drew closer.

“I said you look really good tonight, I like this dress,” he said, louder, eyes scanning over your body, and you blushed, cheeks hot from the alcohol and his compliment.

Topper was a good looking guy, you had to admit that, but the two of you had been friends for so long that you had never even really considered him in that light before, especially since he had been on and off with Sarah for so long.

“Oh, thanks.” You replied, glancing down at the tight dress you had picked out.

“Do you wanna do that second line now, Y/N?” Topper questioned as his hand began to draw circles on your lower thigh.

“Um, sure,” you answered, and Topper withdrew his hand, leaning over to snort his line first.

“You got it?” He asked, noticing that you were just staring at the line. Your head was swimming.

“Ugh, I don’t know, I feel pretty fucked up already,” you admitted, stumbling over your words already, and your friend frowned.

“C’mon, Y/N, just one more?” He challenged with a grin. “I already lined it up for you and everything.”

“Mmm alright,” you slurred,

This one stung more than the first, despite being smaller.

Your head was spinning, the cold drink in your hand was only only making it worse, and you could barely keep your head up.

“How do you feel?” Topper voice felt both distant and too loud, and you shook your head, leaning against your friend’s chest as you mumbled.

“I- I think I should lie down,” you felt dizzy, the lightheadedness confused you, how were you already this fucked up? You had only had two drinks, but you felt like you had had eight.

“You wanna go somewhere quiet?” The blond asked you and you nodded.

“Can you carry me?” You slurred, you didn’t think you could walk past the end of this room, much less up a flight of stairs to Topper’s room.

“Yeah I got you,” he stood up, bending over to scoop you into his arms before heading to his room.

You cuddled against his chest as he carried you, the drugs were making you feel strange, like you couldn’t remember exactly where you were or what you were doing.

He laid you down onto the bed, carefully removing your heels, and you groggily slurred out a thanks.

“Hold on one second,” he turned away before pulling out his phone and sending a quick text.

You felt comfortable in his large, plush bed but you were taken by surprise when you felt it shift under your friends weight.

You turned to meet his eyes, but he moved faster, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his as his mouth covered yours.

Your eyes shot open, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but his tongue pushed its way in, his hand gripping your chin and holding you in place.

Fear and confusion coursed through your body. Why was he doing this? You didn’t think anything of his compliments at the time, but looking back, the pieces were beginning to fall into place.

Had he been trying to get you as drunk as possible just to take advantage of you?

Your mind went blank when you felt his hand creeping under your dress, alarm bells ringing as he pushed the material up to your hips.

You shoved at him, breaking the kiss and gasping for breath.

“Top- mm- stop that-!” your anxious, mumbled pleas fell on deaf ears, his hands grabbing at you rougher when you talked back.

“Shh, Y/N, lighten up, stop being so uptight.” He mumbled as his lips found you neck, and you tensed up completely when you felt him slid your panties to the side before pushing a finger into you.

You gasped at the intrusion, sucking in a breath as tears came to your eyes when he pushed his second finger in.

To your horror you could feel yourself getting wetter, dripping around his fingers as they curled inside you.

The conflicting feelings swirled inside you, the blur of pleasure and panic becoming confusing. Your body couldn’t help but respond to his touch, soft moans fell past your lips in between sobs.

“Shit,” Topper groaned. “I can’t wait any longer.” With his free hand, he pulled his shorts down, stroking himself as he fingered you, before pulling the digits out.

Your stomach dropped, heart pumping in terror as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“T-Topper,” you begged, tears falling past your lashes as your looked up at the blond. “P-please.” You didn’t even know what you were asking him, the inner turmoil of your mind clashing with the primal desires of your body.

For a moment, it seemed like he was conflicted, but resolution set on his face as he gazed into your fearful eyes.

You felt nauseous when he grabbed your legs, easily parting them and bending your knees towards your chest. You squirmed in his grip, but you were too sluggish to stop him.

Topper sunk into you, stretching you out inch by inch. You whined and he shushed you again, this time covering your mouth with his hand.

When his hips met yours, he groaned, voice trembling, “fuck Y/N, I really thought Rafe was exaggerating but I get why this pussy drives him so crazy.”

Your tears were falling much more freely now, his words barely registered in your ears, and you gasped against his hand when he snapped his hips against yours the first time.

It was getting harder to breathe, panic filling your lungs as Toppers hand blocked your mouth. You grabbed at his hand, scratching him and he groaned as he moved his hand from your mouth to your chest.

His hands fumbled with the top of your dress, batting away your hands as you weakly pushed at him before he pulled your tits free, roughly groping them as he fucked you.

There was a movement at the door, and your eyes flicked to the figure in the entryway, new found courage to escape imbuing you. Topper didn’t acknowledge the new person, not even pausing to see who it was.

Your excitement was short lived, transforming in to a sick fear when the man spoke.

“Got your text. I told you she was a good fuck. She’s such a slut, I bet she’s fucking dripping around you right now.”

Rafe’s voice was unmistakable, and when his word’s registered in his ears, you realized with a shock exactly what was happening.

They had laid a trap for you, and you had walked right into it.

“She feels amazing,” Topper groaned, fucking you harder now, cock driving into you at a feverish pace. The pleasure in your gut was beginning to build and to your horror, you could feel yourself getting wetter.

Off to the side, you heard Rafe’s shorts fall to the floor and when you turned your head, you could see him, hard and stroking himself at the sight of his friend taking advantage of you.

He neared the bed and you flinched when his hand tangled into your hair, turning you towards him as he guided himself to your mouth.

When you shook your head, he sighed in disappointment, his next words were cold, “open your mouth, Y/N. Or you’re not going to like it when I take my turn.”

Disgust swirled in your gut and tearfully, you resigned yourself, parting your lips and allowing him to push himself further into your mouth.

Topper groaned at the sight, digging his fingers into your hips harder and glancing down to watch your cunt stretch around him as he plunged his dick into you again and again.

“Fuuck,” Rafe hissed as he began to shift his hips, sliding his dick a bit deeper with every thrust. “I missed that pretty mouth you got, Y/N/N.”

Your stomach twisted at the familiar nickname, one that you hadn’t heard in weeks, as Rafe was the only one you had ever let call you that.

Topper’s cock hit a spot that had you seeing stars, toes curling and thighs trembling as you came. You moaned around the dick in your mouth, and the other blond groaned when you squeezed around him, a gush of wetness allowing him to slide into your cunt easier.

Your jaw ached, scalp burning as Rafe tugged your hair to hold you in place as he fucked your mouth. You gagged when he pushed too far, but he was relentless, taking his revenge on you for keeping yourself away from him for so long.

When he pulled out to give you a breather your relief was slow lived, as Topper closed in, pressing more skin to yours, hands wandering and grabbing at you hungrily.

His pace crescendoed before he reached his peak, lips smothering yours as he groaned, fingers digging into your skin so hard when he came that you knew you would have bruises.

In your drug induced stupor, you finally realized that he hadn’t been wearing a condom when he slowly pulled out and you could feel his sticky cum dripping out of your swollen cunt.

You breathed in shakily, still in a daze about what had just happened. You couldn’t meet Topper’s eyes.

“You’ve had your fun, get outta here, it’s my turn.”

Topper glared at Rafe, opening his mouth to argue, but his friend cut him off.

“Hey, who gave you the drugs in the first place? If I had let you do the dosing, she’d probably never wake up, dumbass,” Rafe snapped.

You felt nauseous again listening to their conversation, knowing that you had trusted Topper completely before tonight, and the idea that either of them would go this far made your head spin.

“Fine,” Topper relented finally, climbing off the bed without giving you a second glance as he grabbed his clothes and began pulling them back on. “And you’re sure she’s not gonna um… remember any of this, right?” He asked Rafe hesitantly.

“Yeah, we gave her a lot already. She’s not gonna remember a thing,” Rafe leaned over his abandoned shorts, grabbing a baggie and a card from his pocket before spilling a little out onto the card. You heard the door close as Topper walked out, leaving you alone and at Rafe’s mercy.

He brought the card to you, helping you sit up and bringing it under your nose as he covered one of your nostrils. You tried to move your head away, but he held you in place, forcing you to take more of what you now weren’t so sure was just coke.

The head rush made you feel dizzy and heavy, and you knew that this time it would be even harder to fight back.

Rafe pushed you back onto the bed, easily batting your arms away as you protested weakly.

“R-Rafe!” Begging did little to deter him. If anything, your pleas seemed to goad him on, relishing the fact that you were so terrified of him.

The blond pushed your legs open, guiding himself between them. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds and you shuddered.

“You know, Y/N/N, it didn’t have to be like this. I was so patient. I made one mistake.” He sneered, voice bitter as he spat the words out.

Rafe forced himself into you, and you yelped at the feel, tears stinging your eyes. His large hand snaked around your throat, squeezing as he slowly filled you to the hilt.

“I have always fucking been there for you. But you threw me out like I was nothing.” The blond seethed. “Like- like the past eight years of our friendship didn’t mean anything to you.”

“P-Please-” you choked out, toes curling at the all too familiar feeling of his cock brushing against your inner walls. He was like a starved man, he couldn’t get enough of you, pushing himself deeper with every thrust.

When he snapped his hips against yours, his pace was brutal and punishing. He was choked you harder now, to the point that you were afraid you might pass out.

You felt like you had been trapped in Topper’s room for hours, the drugs and adrenaline coursing through you made everything feel confusing. Every touch was intensified, like electricity over your skin, the feelings of pleasure and disgust mingling together to the point where you could barely tell them apart.

Rafe’s lips covered yours, sliding against them as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. The feeling was repulsive, all too reminiscent of the many times the two of you had secretly hooked up before.

But this time everything was wrong.

His lips trailed to your neck, hot kisses planted at the spots he knew were the most sensitive. You tried to stifle your gasps of pleasure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but Rafe knew exactly how your body worked. He had explored every inch until he had each curve memorized, he couldn’t forget you if he tried.

“I wanted you to be my girl, Y/N/N,” he confessed, pain and anger flashing in his darkened eyes.

Your eyes widened at his words, you knew that he had reacted awfully when you tried to break it off, but you had never suspected that Rafe had ever seen you as anything more than best friends who fooled around occasionally.

“It didn’t have to come to this,” he said, as if he genuinely believed that you were in the wrong.

You let out a choked moan when you felt him pressing against your clit, swirling the tender bud as he pounded into you.

The combination of his thick cock sliding into you with the stimulation on your tender bud had you seeing stars. Your toes curled and you bit down on your lip to stifle your moan as you came around him.

Your legs were trembling, pussy twitching and squeezing Rafe’s cock as he fucked you through your high, tears coursing down your cheeks in shame.

“Oh fuck, are you actually coming right now??” He laughed mockingly, a sick pride flashing across his face. “You’re so fucking pathetic, do you have any clue how goddamn wet you are right now?”

You couldn’t respond, brain so fried by the feelings of his dick pushing into you that you could only mewl helplessly, each sound punctuated with the snap of his hips.

He was fucking you frantically now, growling under his breath as you choked his cock, your fingernails gripping his arms to steady yourself.

You were caught off guard when you came again, tightening around him, and crying out his name.

Rafe cursed under his breath at the feeling, hips stuttering as he thrust into you deeper than before, groaning when he came, and you whimpered as you felt him filling you up with his cum.

He was panting, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. You turned your head when you felt him get closer, but he cupped your cheek, allowing himself to press his forehead to yours.

Rafe kissed you softly, much more tenderly than before, but knowing the feelings behind the action made your stomach twist, the innocent kiss tainted by the weight of what he had just done.

“You were mine a long time before you knew you were, and I’m not going to let you just throw that away. This friendship isn’t over until I say it is.”

[verystrxxwberry]

Hi!!! I didn't know you were writing scenarios about newgen :o. What are your thoughts on newgen so far and which route are you following? I'm still torn between Roy, Devon and Thomas.

I can't wait to see how the first kiss will be with the three of them, so I'd love to read your take on how do you think it would happen and how the routes would feel about it.

🫂❤️

MCL NEW GEN; first kiss headcanons!

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: sfw, fluff, routes x reader, long scenarios… (I got romantic) ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Yes, I finally dared to write for these people because I found myself enjoying a lot of the story as I played. I think it’s pretty cool, but the system of AP's and getting the gems is awful… And by now I am terribly obsessed with Thomas, I love him! 

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

DEVON

It wasn’t his intention to give you extra hours at the office, but somehow you were the only one he needed besides him at that moment. Your presence helped him to focus, it motivated him as he knew that anytime he shifted his head he’d be able to see you. After months working there, he showed proudness and respect to the way you developed your skills.

He was aware of the torture he made you go through. Maybe it wasn’t as pleasant for you as it was for him to spend time alone with you, that’s why he even invited you to a small cup of coffee so you could get some energy.

It was already 8 PM when he decided that you two should call it a day in the office and rest. As you picked up your stuff, he waited for you and apologized for making you work extra hours, and he will pay it as a plus in the salary, that’s for sure.

It was night already so he decided to stay with you until the bus came. You knew that since you started working in Devenementiel there was a growing tension whenever you find yourself sharing space with only your boss. He was the kind of boss everyone wanted to have: attentive, kind, that actually helps you to grow positively, he had a playful side that knew when to come out and light up anyone's mood. He was a great boss.

And it was even more great whenever he came close to you to help you, allowing you to feel his warm breath on your shoulder, or even when he took your hands gently in his to guide you when he was teaching you to do something. You knew deep inside that he was not really subtle with the way you called his interest.

You took courage to initiate this, asking playfully: “so… you are planning on giving me a plus, right?” Which he nodded in response, his hazel eyes focusing on you. “Alright, that’s a working payment. But what about giving me a personal plus? You know, a personal payment…”

For one second you thought you humiliated yourself as he seemed to get deep in thought, but right before you had time to get flustered, he released a melodic laugh as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Oh, how greedy, so you want more money?”

“No, I wasn’t talking about money…” You mutter timidly as he seemed to find your offer amusing. “Probably… I don’t know, going out for dinner together or something.”

His smirk never disappeared, only growing the more you spoke. He hummed, looking at his phone to check the date. “This week is difficult…” You saw Devon thinking one more time, his eyes falling once again in you. “But deal. I just hope you can forgive me for making you wait.” He saw the bus at the beginning of the street and he sighed. “Call me impatient, but today I will pay you differently.” 

You had no time to react when he cupped your chin and leaned down to press his lips against yours. It took you by surprise, so you didn’t have time to react or to kiss back. You’d feel him smile against your lips, knowing perfectly that he surprised you with that. And after a few seconds he separated. The bus was already reaching the stop where you both were.

“See you tomorrow. Rest well.” He spoke with his usual tone, his hand caressing your cheek before he separated and walked away towards his house. He went to his house with a proud smile on his face. And seeing your shy expression about it the next day would make him laugh quietly. He should spoil you like that more often.

ROY 

You decided to spend your day off in a calm way, spending your day resting at home and enjoying the peace of having no responsibilities other than breathing. But that peace got interrupted when your phone vibrated with a great spam of notifications- your great friend and colleague, Roy, was asking you to meet him on the beach to go for a walk.

He was truly happy when you agreed to meet him. Even if you were on your day off, he still had to work and he had a lot to rant about. He had always been very open about his feelings and thoughts, and it was funny to see him whine so much about Jason being a pain in the ass.

You walked through the streets, buying a drink and then going to the beach to sit on the sand and keep listening to him ranting and ranting. There was a point in which you chuckled, shaking your head “hey… you are in a meeting with me, could you forget about job for a whole hour?” Even if you requested it in a playful tone, he knew you were serious. He whined playfully, laying down in the sand, using his arms as a pillow.

“Ow, I thought you’d always listen to me…” He was being a dramatic queen, like most of the times. You know he was playing though. “Then rant at me about anything.” He told you as he closed his eyes, enjoying the soft breeze that caressed his stunning features. You knew that Roy meant it, and he is capable of listening to you as much as you need. He is the type of guy that likes to give what he receives.

He is silent as he listens to you, taking spontaneous sips from his drink and nodding at your words. The sun was setting and soon would be night, but that wasn’t a bother for any of you. 

You looked at him as you finished your ranting, seeing him so peaceful. He was definitely the sleeping beauty, but he wasn’t sleeping yet. The silence in between you both was comfortable, allowing the ocean waves crashing into the sand to be the only noise interrupting the peace- but it only gave more peace. He opened one of his eyes to check on you, a little smile drawing on his face when he saw you looking at him already.

“C’mere.” He spoke in such a low tone that it was almost like a whisper, extending one of his arms to invite you to lie down in his embrace. And how to reject that offer. The contrast of his warm body to the cold breeze that was around you was comforting. He pulled you close, letting your head rest on his chest. You could feel it raising and going down with each calm breath he took.

You didn’t even care about how the minutes passed, he kept himself entertained by playing with your hair. When he felt your pleasant sigh he reincorporated a little bit to look down at you: “Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked playfully. Yet you shook your head, your cheeks being slightly warm at how you found his dark eyes connecting with yours.

“Ah, you look adorable..” He whispered with a little smile. You saw his eyes shine with affection as he looked down at you, and that only motivated you to lean in slightly. He noticed your movement and cupped your cheek, moving your head slightly. Without thinking you two cut the distance that separated your lips, and he didn’t even wait to kiss back, allowing you to explore each others’ mouth. It was warm, gentle yet slow. His hands placed gently over your waist, holding you firmly against him.

No matter how much you want to make it soft, Roy is a tease and will end up adding his tongue into the kiss, the wetness tracing your bottom lip and making you squirm. He chuckles when he sees your nervous reaction in front of it. You'd separate a little for air, his lips only centimeters away from yours and whispering “Your lips are soft… could I try them again?”

If you don’t stop him, he won’t stop himself either. The only thing stopping him from devouring you would be the fact that you were in public, but he’s up to a making out session there.

AMANDA

You decided to join Amanda in work as she organized some papers for an upcoming party that a client asked your company to organize. The conversation between you both was casual, offering a brainstorm of great ideas which you complimented each other. 

She spoke about some experiences she had related to the subject of the party as she sketched randomly stuff in a paper. The way her pupils dilated every time she spoke to you was a detail you couldn’t forget about her, as well as the way her fluffy cheeks held that natural blush from her skin. Even though you realize that every time Amanda was alone with you, her cheeks were redder than usual.

The brainstorm was done and you both started to do small sketches of the design of the party, Amanda even offered to put some cozy music in the back so you both could work in peace and comfort.

Her voice was sweet as she hummed to the song. The scent of her perfume exposed her wealth, you could smell it even if the distance in between you wasn’t as close as you would have liked. You were across the table, looking at her and not even realizing that you were probably staring for too long.

Amanda was looking down at the papers, some strands of her hair not allowing you to see her face properly, but it just gave her a more attractive view of her. You decided to move your hand in direction to her face, placing one of her loosened stands right behind her ear. You noticed she got startled, but a timid smile appeared on her face as she looked up at you. 

It took her a few seconds to realize that she was also staring back at you, clearing her throat and nervously looking away. “Do you want to take a break?” she offered, her voice sounding low and sweet, not as demanding or confident as she usually was. You nodded and she added: “Then I will go buy some pastries for us.” 

There was no way she was going alone, so you decided immediately to stand up. “I will go with you” you spoke with a firm tone, and she nodded, organizing all the papers over the table and walking with you towards the bakery. 

As you waited in the queue to buy, she decided to hold your arm carefully, checking if you’d be comfortable with it. You allowed her, caressing her arm in an instinctive way. You noticed she was leaning to you to whisper something to your ear, but you also leaned towards her. 

Your lips didn’t meet, but you were so close that Amanda forgot how to breathe at that moment. She didn’t know what she was doing yet her body impulsed her to steal a small kiss from your lips. After it, she separated quickly and looked away, her skin as red as a tomato as she tried to calm down the way her heart would stop beating like crazy. That was something she was wishing to do for so long, yet she didn't think twice before doing it and that made her terribly embarrassed.

In case you didn’t have any topic to talk about, the walk back at the office would be filled of an awkward silence. She was still shy, drowned in her own thoughts. Your mind started wondering about how to make her come back to earth. You closed the door of the meeting room right behind your back, then you muttered “did you like it?”

“Like what?” She asked in a monotonous and low tone, still lost in her deep thoughts. 

“The kiss. Did you like the kiss?” You asked and observed her at the minimum detail, how her eyes seemed to look up at you once again, searching your gaze with a nervous expression. She slowly nodded her head and that made you feel those butterflies once again. This time you were the one taking initiative, holding her hand and pulling her closer so you could kiss her once again. She was tense at first, but she closed her eyes and kissed back, allowing herself to melt into that tender kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you closer.

That seemed to light up her mood, and you could notice how she was more kind towards everyone. Maybe you should kiss her more often to see how adorable she can get to be after it.

THOMAS

It takes him too long to realize that you like him in that way, no matter all the hints you throw at him about your feelings. He is too focused on how he suddenly gets an intense adrenaline in his stomach when he is around you than how you act towards him. He doesn’t dare to make any step because he would consider it a loss of time in case he gets rejected. And in case he gets accepted he’d leave the scene with a stoic face, even if his hands are all sweaty from the anxiety.

He decided to ask you if you would like to go on a ride in his motorbike after work. And you gladly accepted to do so. You’ve been for a couple of months developing feelings with him, but you didn’t know if he even felt the same. But it was a fact that you both grew closer to each other as time passed.

He waited for you outside your house, checking his phone as he was resting against his motorbike. He was still wearing his helmet and he had another one held by his arm. When he saw you, he hid his phone and waited for you to approach. Usually he’d let you put the helmet yourself, but when he was in a good mood he was the one putting it on you. And Thomas was in a great mood today.

It was surprising how gentle he was with his acts no matter the coldness of his voice. He offered you his arm to help you get on the motorbike. “Hold on tight.” He patted his waist, inviting you to wrap your arms around it, and you didn’t even think twice to do it. 

He is good at riding the motorbike, being gentler and more careful as you were with him. Though he would increase the speed of it just to tease you, feeling your grip tighten around his waist as he kept a smirk under his helmet. The thought of your body pressed against him only made him feel even more adrenaline.

After a few minutes of the ride, he went to the upper part of the city, parking his motorbike and giving you the task of jumping down his motorbike because he found the struggle you had to reach the floor adorable. He removed his helmet and rested his elbows over the balcony.

That area allowed you to have a great view of the city and further. The streets filled with colorful lights made it seem alive, just as the windows of the buildings showing different lives as if it was a TV show. It was entertaining to see the city from there. And even if you had the chance to see all the city, filled of life, there was no absolute sound that interrupted the whisper of the wind.

“The view is beautiful…” You heard him whisper, and you nodded, agreeing with him. What you didn’t realize is that his eyes weren’t on the big landscape in front of you both: his light teal eyes were focused on you. He approached a little towards you, making you think that he was actually cold as he gripped tightly his own arms, which were crossed over the railing. 

You didn’t have the usual occasion to be as close as you were to him at that moment, your arms touching casually. And luckily he didn’t separate as he always used to do, you secretly appreciated it. “I must say… I’m glad I joined you tonight.” You whispered honestly, waiting for his answer as you looked up at his neutral expression. 

“I am glad you joined too.” He affirmed, a light smile appearing on his lips. The pinky color on his lips made his pale face look more alive, if not… you would’ve believed he was a corpse. They weren’t too thin but too thick either, they were just perfect. His eyes were shining but you couldn’t read his expression, he was just… sharing the moment with you. He was staring back at your lips as he saw how you did the same, but didn't say a word.

You were aware that he wouldn’t take the step to break the tension that was in between you right now. With an impulse of adrenaline, you grabbed him by the neck and made him lean down so he was at the perfect height for you to finally brush your lips together for the first time. He didn’t make a single move. He was paralyzed.

It was confusing, you didn’t know if he liked it, but when you separated you saw his cheeks completely red. He didn’t make a comment about it, simply clearing his throat and looking towards the city. 

He changed the subject, which made you confused and quite disappointed. He didn’t mention anything related to the kiss. You almost felt guilty for doing so- then the meeting reached its end and you were finally alone in your house. 

After some minutes overthinking you received a few messages from Thomas:

“Hey. The meeting was great. I just hope the next time you give me more time to react. I really wanted to kiss you properly. Can you do it again next time? Kiss me, I mean.”

JASON

You absolutely despised the cocky smile that was always on his terribly handsome face. You would rip his face if you could, because you also hated the fact you felt the temperature raise whenever you saw him.

His presence was notorious wherever he was. No matter if you didn’t see him, you could feel the air quite tense and that someone you didn’t specifically like was there. Well, you lied to yourself. You told yourself you hated him, that he was your enemy- but every time he looked at you with those deep blue eyes, with a confident personality, it sent you to your knees whenever it showed. After arguing with him in a competitive way, you simply waited for the next time you could see him again. 

Oh and don’t you think that was something you only hoped for. He also couldn’t wait to see you after any “unexpected” meeting, where the rivalry between your companies was notorious. You turned into his favorite victim to tease with his clear superiority, making mocking remarks just to see the cute frown that appeared in your face any time he became a pain in the ass. 

He loved that about you, he loved how expressive you were, yet how stubborn you were with your own feelings. Jason wasn’t dumb, he knew that even if you were frowning and trying to argue back with him, your face was warm from how flustered he made you. 

You finally saw his tall shape among the people. And you didn’t go unnoticed.  This time he won, as the main client for which you competed for preferred Goldreamz. And yes, the fancy decoration was incredibly stunning and all, but that was still a big hurtful step to your company.

He held an elegant glass of wine in his hand as he listened to one client. Jason had the habit of keeping eye contact with whoever he was talking to, but in that moment he found it more exciting to fix his gaze on you, his grin widening as he saw you looking back. 

You tried to focus on the conversation your coworkers were currently having, but the blue of his eyes was hypnotizing. Jason finished the conversation with that client and signed you with simply one finger and the movement of his head to follow him. You had to put an excuse to leave, saying you had to take the air. 

The quickened steps soon allowed you to meet him at the roof of the building. The music from the party was drowned by the closed doors behind you. He turned around and exhaled contentedly, “I suppose you can’t enjoy the fresh air of victory as I do, right?” That playful remark was annoying. 

As always, he had really mature ways to start a conversation, sarcastically speaking. You attacked him by that, for being so childish to compare both of your companies that way. He loved to see you release that anger, it was something that made him smile proudly.

Jason spent a few minutes listening to your rage rant, yet he didn’t take it personal. There was something within him that made him know that you simply spoke like that because of the competence, but he saw by the way you both looked at each other before that the hate could be simply a superficial and professional cover to your feelings.

He decided to be unprofessional. You didn’t have time to react when suddenly your breath was caught by his lips, which took yours in a fiery kiss, almost as if he had been impatient to wait longer. Your words were completely swallowed by his hungry lips, making sure it was passionate enough to not allow you to speak after it. One of his hands tangled in your hair as the other held you firmly by the small of your back. He separated reluctantly, his breath heavy, but not as much as yours. 

“Ah… the sweet taste of victory…” He purred. His eyes were so expressive that you could tell he would keep going with kissing you if you weren’t in a place where you had to keep your dignity. “And the perfect peace of silence…” he whispers, teasing you for getting quiet after he almost devoured you. 

His touch was like fire to your skin, and you quite missed it when he separated to go back to the party. You were too stunned to act yet. You truly needed to take some air after it this time.

Jason felt like he truly won that night, not only for keeping a good impression of his company, but also because he achieved to take a taste of your lips.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[jen-with-a-pen]

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on. 

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was. 

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go. 

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin. 

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand. 

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.” 

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare. 

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head. 

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz. 

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve. 

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared. 

You’d never seen Steve scared before. 

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors. 

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned. 

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!” 

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in. 

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver. 

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster. 

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–” 

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation. 

The lights went next. 

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close. 

Too close. 

Another BANG! Then another. 

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you. 

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in. 

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean. 

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue. 

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment. 

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare. 

The intruder’s steps stopped. 

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous. 

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!” 

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue. 

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there. 

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold. 

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights. 

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground. 

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway. 

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time. 

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors. 

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor. 

You were fast, but he was faster. 

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself. 

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash. 

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords. 

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils. 

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood. 

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium. 

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release. 

“You owe me what’s mine –!” 

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor. 

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck. 

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!” 

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life. 

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better. 

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter. 

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.” 

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway. 

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though. 

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in. 

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof. 

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras. 

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again. 

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand. 

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face. 

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky. 

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you. 

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial. 

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches. 

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey. 

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you. 

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone. 

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable. 

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless. 

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. 

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time. 

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt. 

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come. 

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

[outrunningthedark]

There’s been a subtle wave of casual bucktommy enjoyers coming out to defend the ship on Twitter lately, and it’s funny that they can’t see the reason the ship gets the support it does is because the hate is too excessive. I’m pretty sure some shippers wouldn’t cling to the ship as much if the narrative around it wasn’t trying to be rewritten so much by the other anti shippers.

Yeah, this is just my opinion (based on how I've changed through the years and what I've heard from others), but I think season six really, truly *broke* people. For the better. 18 episodes "preaching" about couch theory and how Kristen Reidel was the answer the fandom was looking for (biggest LOL ever, especially considering how quick they flipped when they heard Tim was back) only to find out that the couch really did have to do with a girlfriend all along and Buck sleeping on Eddie's couch was just...Buck sleeping on Eddie's couch. Getting the news that FOX would no longer be airing new episodes, realizing that the ending we got COULD have been the real series finale if we didn't have AB on our side? That's enough to alter anyone's perspective on what they thought they knew and how much time they spent believing it to be true. But then came ABC. And after a season (multiple seasons, really) of utter disappointment where it finally clicked with people that FOX was never gonna change the narrative down the line, ABC was willing to take a chance, willing to test the waters by making Buck canonically queer. WHY is anybody surprised that there are people willing to support a queer awakening even if the pairing isn't the one "everyone" wants? (False.) Six/Seven years of wishing, and hoping, and waiting for a network to make one of their main male characters queer, and people were/are supposed to reject it because it's not the "right" guy??? Or the "right" ship??? Yeah, no. That's not how this works. And btw. Criticizing and ignoring a queer ship is not going to motivate a network to give you more queer representation. It's going to make them think you don't give a fuck about any of it at all and go back to what "works". (The Wilds comes to mind. All that bitching about the boys in season 2 and Amazon decided two seasons was enough of a story.) But luckily for the fans that are actually enjoying Buck's journey, the online critics (even the loudest of the bunch) does not represent the majority audience, and the majority audience are the ones bringing in those millions and millions of views even AFTER Buck came out. 😌

[merbear25]

Hi Mer pretty! Its Camii

Congratulations on the 200f ♡♡♡

Can I request 6 with Crocodile? I just love my Crocoboy uwu

fem or gn reader is fine to me, however you feel more comfortable! And nsfw. THANKS ♡

Cami, lovely!! So happy to see you pop in and request this! I love Crocoboy too, so I was super excited to write this for you! I hope you like it 💜💜

A guarded heart

CW: NSFW!!! MDNI!! fem!reader, angsty, vaginal penetration, mutual masturbation

Having worked alongside Crocodile for those few years, you were able to consider yourself one of the lucky few to be granted access to his inner circle. Your loyalty, determination, and honesty were all qualities he valued in you. He hadn't necessarily favored the 'wearing your heart on your sleeve' quality before, yet you were the exception―as you were with many things.

Through the hurdles thrown at you to further test your commitment to him, you always came out on top, earning you the most subtle hint at praise. With the countless displays of your devotion to him, he grew fond of you: you had proven to be dependable, fierce, but also tender and kind towards him. Seeing such a side to you uncovered a deep want in him, one that'd been burried underneath years of pain―to be loved.

Although you could easily predict how trying a romantic aspect to your relationship would be, you'd be lying to yourself if you said he didn't have a tight hold on your heart. You'd been admiring him for quite awhile, and such admiration formed into longing. Taking such a risk with Crocodile would be your most significant test of your devotion to him. If you were able to outlast his frigid behavior and break down his walls, you'd earn the greatest prize you'd ever know and this was the immense source of your motivation.

As time passed, your relationship with Crocodile was proving to be difficult: his icy demeanor, the spiked heart he kept under lock and key, his line of work. In spite of all these demotivations, there were glimmers of hope that you were getting through to him, making the struggles worth while: his appreciative look, the soft caress of your cheek and jaw.

Such tender moments made you melt, yet they were abruptly snatched from you as you could feel your progress regress just as you were under the impression you were getting somewhere. You were getting too close to him, your words were far too sweet and caring, which blared the alarms. Fear and doubt crept in―you could see it in his eyes―you would eventually betray him. Being pushed away was undoubtedly tearing down your will to push forth.

Not being able to deny yourself to experience the heartache shaking your core, your silent cries rang throughout the room. You now had his undivided attention. Going over to you was done on an impulse, and as he brought up his hand in an attempt to soothe your woes, he hesitated. What could he do or even say?

His hand found itself on your shoulder, offering you a slight reassurance in his touch. It wasn't as if he wanted to be guarded with you, yet these shackles from his past continued to hold back any possibility of forming a meaningful future with you. Oh, how he yearned to feel your warmth on him. Granting him the luxury of getting lost in your light seemed just out of reach. Letting the cold-blooded reptile in deprivation of basking in the rays of his heart-warming lover, was something he was reluctant to indulge in.

The faint rub from his thumb when paired with his concerned gaze, made you want to assure him that you understood he still needed time to come around. "I can accept that breaking down your walls will take time, but I can't deny the heartache I feel when you push me away time and time again."

As honesty coupled your sorrowful words, he admitted, "I'm trying, I'm actually really trying..." There was a muffled twinge of pain he shared with how he was treating you.

You took a step forward when the window to his soul was just beginning to open, drawing you closer to help comfort the inner termoil he must be fighting against just to stay afloat. Despite his tough exterior, his eyes indicated that he was in dire need of your warm touch.

"I see that you're trying, but you don't have to keep your struggles to yourself anymore," running your hand down his chest, you could feel his heartbeat quicken.

Letting this moment slip between his fingers was not in the cards. Swiftly, he leaned down to capture those lips he'd been craving for far too long.

Your hunger for physical affection matched his own, leaving the both of you subject to the wild fires of passion raging within. Feeling you gripping at the fabric collected above his belt sent him into a frenzy―his worsening starvation could only be satiated by the intimacy from his dearly beloved.

Forcing your skirt up, he tugged at your tights and panties, causing a sharp gasp to leave your reddened lips. Having such a blissful noise fall on his ears only enticed him to satisfy his growing need for you.

Swooping you up in his arms, he carried you over to the couch, never letting his eyes leave yours so as not to let the electrifying connection falter.

Plopping you down, you couldn't help but let a groan pass through you. Seeing you in such a flustered state awoke the beast within him which had been dormant. Leaning over you, his want was backed by a searing kiss. With the sudden thrill of the events unfolding more quickly by the moment, you pawed at his belt in an attempt to unbuckle it, though your concentration was being tugged in mutliple directions.

With one swift motion, he finished undressing your lower half, leaving your breasts peeking out from under your untucked blouse. Eyeing your twitching slit, he promptly shoved two fingers in not even considering how much he'd stretch you past your capabilities.

Yelping at the sudden assault, you clawed your fingers into his thighs, earning yourself a rumbling moan from your eager lover. This time being able to firmly grasp his belt buckle, you yanked it off and impatiently wrapped your fingers around his aching length, which already had precum beading from the overpowering thrill.

As he rammed his fingers inside you, you had his cock settled against the back of your thigh, helping you stimmulate the intimidating girth yearning to break you in half.

With making the other pant from the increasing build up, neither of you could further resist temptation; watching him line up with your sopping wet folds, you clentched at the cushions. Feeling him ease into you sent shockwaves prickling throughout each fiber of your being.

Pumping in and out of you was becoming increasingly more difficult for the two of you―such gratification of finally relishing in the other's touch was testing his self-restraint more than yours. The hitched breaths, the lows moans, the sounds of skin slapping: they were attacking each sense of his.

Despite him having held on for as long as he had, the constrictions of your spasming walls took him by utter surprise―just barely escaping releasing in you, he hurridly finished on your weakened form. Being doused in his hot streams of arousal made your chest heave from remnants of euphoria nipping at you.

Easing yourselves down from your high, he cupped your face and placed a tender kiss upon your forehead. Offering him a gentle smile, he didn't return it, although his gaze lead you to believe he was far less guarded now.

[shaineybainey]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 initial thoughts

[ NOT spoiler-free ]

For me, this is one of the few franchises that got better and better as it went along. This third movie was just absolutely phenomenal. As someone had said, it is a great send-off to the movie and the Guardians we've known.

They did a great job exploring Rocket's origin. It really explains why he's never wanted to talk about his past. It was violent and heartbreaking. Nebula's line of "They did worse things to him than Thanos did to me" (or something along that line) summarized it best. You also understand why Rocket can be so violent: it wasn't much because he learned it from the people who engineered him, but because the last time he tried to get away safely, quietly, his friends - essentially his family - all got killed. And the person who caused it was so cold about it. So while he could be extreme, he does it so that no one can hurt him or any of his friends ever again.

Which leads to this other point: Rocket is a grump and a cynic, but deep down he actually really loved the other Guardians.

Adam Warlock! I didn't know what to expect from him, but after seeing the movie, I want to see more of him.

Also: it's great that the movie managed to give Adam his own origin story, his own motivation for why he eventually ended up being a guardian.

Drax was hilarious in this movie, as he always is, but Mantis kinda came for the crown a bit! The fact that she made him fall in love with a sock for fun and made one of the guards they had to get through fall in love with him were some of the funniest moments in the movie.

On a more serious Drax note: "Drax. You weren't meant to be a destroyer. You were meant to be a dad." One of the best lines in the movie. I never would have thought that this is how Drax would "grow up" as a character, but it all made sense. It does.

Kraglin had a fantastic growth too. He'd been trying to train with the arrow Yondu gave him over and over and over, trying to concentrate and plan and think. And he kept failing over and over and over. But when Knowhere was in danger, he finally remembered what Yondu told him: "Fly it with your heart." When he realized that he needed to get out of his head, man did he do some damage. It was amazing.

The bad dog/good dog argument 😂

Gamora. I like how they approached that. They didn't make her fall in love with Peter, even after all the fighting that they did as a team. They were barely even good friends in the end. Also, it's nice that she has a different family to belong to now (the Ravagers) but who still loved her just the same. It's good that they didn't try to change her. They made her realistic.

Lol "You guys are just making up what he's saying" when Groot would talk

Nebula. Oh, man, where do I begin. I've started really liking her as a character since GotG 2, and even more so during Endgame, but wow. She's really grown. She looks after the people of Knowhere, the Guardians look to her for big decisions and even resolution for internal problems of the team. The team respects her, even more than Peter most times. She still has rage inside, and she has trouble expressing other feelings without it, but I think she's made tremendous progress. And it's so obvious that she cares deeply about the team and even the lives of others, even if she doesn't outright say it.

Okay. There's a lot to unearth with the not-so-subtle hints at Peter/Nebula. First off, it's obvious in this movie and even in the Christmas special that Nebula's been looking after Peter. But the fact that she would take him home whenever he was totally wasted and put him to bed, making sure he was comfortable? And when Gamora was going to hurt Peter out of frustration and Nebula jumped in to stop her, practically telling her to back off? And that when Gamora suggested that the woman Peter's describing, the one that he's fallen in love with because she's grown from being ruthless to being caring, is Nebula, and Peter started looking at her differently? Bruh. I don't know what they're playing at here, but alright. I'm onboard.

Speaking of Peter, I like that he decided to come back home to Earth to reach out to his grandfather. I'd like to think he got a little help from the Avengers to get to that doorstep (info, means of transpo, things like that). It was great to see him in a normal life setting in the post-credit, too, where he's just eating cereal, talking smack about someone behind their back lol

Okay, that's it for now. Will come back when I remember the other things I liked (spoiler alert: there's a TON)

[the-cosmic-teapot]

Eternity and So Much More

Bokuto x reader

WC: 2392

TW: Self doubt, insecurity, marriage talk, long term commitment, reader needs a hug and kiss, bokuto is amazing and really affirming, I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible (engagement ring description, but not story crucial-like a sentence max) , open ended

*proof read by my man in arts husband, its his fault for typos :)

Summary: Bokuto had a very important question to ask you, but you don't see yourself in the best light.

A/N: Hi pals, this is my first time publishing anything outside of a really cringy period on Wattpad when I was 13 (no longer available for my own sanity). I am not typically a writer, so I apologize in advance, but I love Bokuto so much yeah. I hope you like this! Feedback is always welcome!

~Cosmic

Being in a relationship with a pro athlete is difficult because more times than not, they prioritize their careers. It’s what they have been working towards for the longest time and they will do almost anything to stay on the court. This is especially true with one, Bokuto Koutaro. You could ask anyone about the large, owlish man and his devotion to volleyball; they would all say the same thing: he is meant to be on the court. Knowing this did not stop you from being in a relationship with him. If anything there was a sense of pride because of his passion for the sport. There were countless missed dinners and events because of extra practice, but this did little to dissuade you from falling for the outside hitter. With all of the missed dates there were  thoughtful gifts or a lavish trip with him for time together to make up his absences. 

You knew it was coming, Bokuto's proposal, because he is not the most subtle person and he is not great at hiding things. It had been about a week prior when you found the ring in his sock drawer when doing his laundry.  It was a beautiful, yet simple princess cut diamond ring with a few accent stones around it, and here you are, at dinner with Bokuto and some friends, both old and new. Most of the night was filled with laughter and smiles, as is most of the time with Bokuto, except this time there was a pit in your stomach you couldn’t explain. Was it something you ate? Maybe it was social anxiety from being around all of Bokuto's high school friends, who you’ve seen on a few occasions. You only really knew Akaashi because of how close he was with Bokuto. Yet, in spite of this feeling you pushed through dinner with a smile.

As the appetizers and entrees came and went Bokuto insisted on getting dessert for everyone. The pair of you settled on a chocolate cake with ice cream. While the desserts were being prepared Bokuto gathered the attention of everyone and began speaking of the love he has for you, and your beauty. As he continued his speech, the pit grew deeper and deeper. His little speech concluded in tandem with the arrival of dessert, where you saw the same ring that was hidden among his socks sitting on the top of the cake slice. Then you look at Bokuto already on one knee as he asks the question, “Will you marry me?”

At this moment you didn’t have any words. Why weren’t you saying anything? Could you say anything at all?

~~

The first day of your third year at university felt the same as the others. You noted that campus was a bit livelier than normal, but this would surely die down after a couple of weeks as people lost motivation to go to class. As you walked into your first lecture hall you chose your seat with care as you would be using it for the rest of the semester. After all, humans are creatures of habit. 

When you stepped outside of the lecture hall at the end of class, you could swear you felt like a mummy leaving its crypt and stepping into the sun for the first time. Apparently you stood in place a second too long because a large man was not paying attention at the stop in traffic and bumped into your back causing you to trip and fall. As you stood back up and turned to face the cause of your fall he immediately began apologizing and saying he will buy you coffee or a pastry as his way of apologizing. Initially stunned by the sudden change in your position to seeing a large man practically on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness for a small nudge was, admittedly, quite a scene to behold. You insisted that you were okay and there were no bruises or scratches, but he looked like a kicked puppy saying something about how he has harmed you and his mother and sisters will certainly skin him alive for not making it up to you. So you agreed to his offer of coffee, seeing as you do not have class for another hour and a half. On the walk over to the cafe you learn his name, Bokuto, and he is a starter for the men's volleyball team. 

~~

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for an answer. You see the glints of love and true passion in Bukotos eyes; the same look he has when he plays volleyball. Why couldn’t you say anything? What was wrong with you? Here there is a man who loves you, and all you can do is just stand there. Thoughts of inadequacy swarm your mind; you’ll never be pretty enough, you’ll never be charismatic enough, you’ll never be enough for him. 

~~

  After getting coffee with Bokuto, he seemed to be part of your life. Initially it was small things like him asking you to study with him because he “gets distracted, and it is nice to have someone to keep him on track”. This typically ended with getting nothing done because of how easy conversations flowed with him. Eventually this turned into movie nights with his friends. By the end of that semester the two of you were practically inseparable. 

Sometime during the break you realized how you had grown to care for this large puppy of a man. Your days away from campus, as well as Bokuto, seemed more dreary, like something was missing. The days away made you truly notice an absence you didn’t know you could miss. Despite this, you still managed to have a relaxing break.

Bokuto was also stuck with his thoughts of you and what you were doing. He misses your smile and laugh, he misses how you would roll your eyes at some dumb joke he had made, but most of all, he misses how you care about him. Through high school he was used to girls flocking to him because of his volleyball talent, but none of them seemed to care about who he was as a person. You care about him as Bokuto Kotaro, not Bokuto Kotaro the volleyball powerhouse. You care about the little things, ensuring he stayed hydrated and made sure he always had someone cheering him on. He loved those things about you.

By the time you got back to campus and got fully moved into your new dormroom, Bokuto called and asked to get lunch because he was, as always, starving. By the end of the lunch you were sure Bokuto enjoyed your presence because of how he mentioned it at least five times when walking you home. As you get to your complex's door you debate inviting Bokuto in to watch a movie or something, but a small voice crept in saying that he probably had other, better things to be doing. So you bid him a farewell and went up alone. 

~~

As Bokuto stares at you with anticipation and nothing but adoration in his eyes staring into your own, you are at war with your insecurities. How could he want you in that way? It wasn't because you were the prettiest or because you were the most popular. It definitely wasn’t because you were the best at anything; what was it? You know he loves you, but honestly you don’t fully understand why. 

After about a minute of staring at you Bokuto began to feel a pit form in his stomach, a rare feeling for him that he wasn’t too familiar with. The last time this happened was when he asked you to go on a date with him; an actual date too, not the platonic hangout sessions from when you were first getting to know each other. Was it taking you so long to answer because you thought he wouldn't be a good husband? Was it because he can be forgetful and so focused on volleyball? Those couldn't be it, you always said that it was something you loved about him, his dedication and drive. Why weren’t you saying anything? What was holding you back?

~~

It had been one year since you met Bokuto, the start of your last year of university. Thursdays became takeout and movie night with him, just him; no one else because “I want to spend time alone with my best friend”. You thought it was sweet that he wanted to take time with just you, but it hurt when you assumed he didn’t see you romantically. You’d be stupid not to have a crush on him, he is so charismatic and funny, not to mention he looks like he was shaped by the gods, in contrast to his puppy like demeanor that would make a statue smile.

On one such Thursday Bokuto was antsy, more than normal. About a third of the way into your movie pick, you had to pause the movie. His fidgeting was getting on your nerves and you could no longer bear to ignore it. In response to you pausing, Bokuto just stared dumbly at you instead of saying anything. This was odd, there was seldom a time Bokuto was without words. 

“What’s your problem tonight?’ you asked, a little agitated. “We can change the movie if you’re not into it.” 

“I just...” He paused for a bit and continued, “ I um, I think I’d like to take you out.” You stared back just as dumbly at him for a bit. “ I don’t mean, like, kill you. I mean like a date… If you want…” You sat on his couch in one of his hoodies with Thai take-out in your lap while he thought this is something he wouldn’t mind seeing all the time. He impatiently awaited your answer, fidgeting with his hands. 

After what felt like an eon (a few minutes in actuality) you responded, “Really? Me?” It was strange to be asked out by someone who was like Bokuto. You weren't the typical drop dead gorgeous type athletes like him usually went after, at least in your own eyes. 

“Well, yeah… that’s why I asked you.” He stated very matter-of-factly. “Why wouldn't I want to date you? You know me, and still want to be my friend after I embarrassed myself at that party. You also still want to study with me even when I don’t know what’s happening, and you dont mind helping me with my classwork even though you’re taking more classes than me.” 

He went on like this for 5 minutes before you finally snapped out of your haze to interrupt him and respond. “I didn’t know you cared that much about me...” You sat on your words before landing on “Okay”. 

You thought you had broken the owlish man when that four letter word left your mouth. He just sat and stared at you before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, this is including when he scored the winning point for nationals last spring. In an instant he was off of the couch, as were you, bouncing around the room shaking you along too. 

~~

Feeling the stares of your friends and his, you felt nauseous. You loved Bokuto, but could you accept this? What happens if it falls apart, could you live through that? What if a few years later he finds someone better than you, how could you live with that? You just stood there. Your legs felt as if they weighed a million pounds and your jaw a billion more.

Bokuto was freaking out because he was sure you’d say yes immediately. You’d talked about your futures after graduation and you said something along the lines of wanting him in your life forever. Did he misinterpret that? He got your dream ring from one of your friends who was kind enough to help him. What did he do to screw this up?

“I-I…” you took a breath, “I don’t know” you finished close to tears. After giving an answer you needed to get out, looking at Bokuto was painful because he was heartbroken and confused. You gathered your things and ran out of the restaurant.

Bokuto followed closely after you without grabbing anything. He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out onto the sidewalk spotting you instantly.

He tentatively approached you as if you were a scared stray cat. “Hey… are you okay? What happened back there?” Bokuto was close to tears too, his usually bright eyes were so serious now. “Are you not ready for this? I thought that conversation after graduation meant you wanted this… I’m really sorry if I got that wrong.” He wouldn’t stop talking. You felt like actual garbage, here he was apologizing to you for what were your own inadequacies. 

“I’m not-” you take a breath, “I’m not good enough for this, or for you. You are a pro athlete, you’re way out of my league, and I’m just someone who fell in love with you. I am not special in any way, I’m not extraordinary, I’m just me.” You pause for a second before continuing, “You deserve so much better than me, you are amazing and deserve the universe, and I’m not that.”

“I don’t see it that way.” Bokuto said simply. “You’re amazing because you are you. I love the way you get focused and bite your lip when you do. I love the way you care for me and make sure I am taking care of myself. How you make the effort to know my friends and family.” He continued while holding your wrist as if to make sure you don’t vanish into nothing. “Most importantly, I love you because of how you love me.” He concluded with a huff, Bokuto was frustrated that he needed to tell you all of this, but if he had to repeat these affirmations to you over and over like a mantra he would without hesitation. 

“Are you sure?” You question, biting your lip and avoiding Bokuto's eyes that always seem to find yours. “Yes, of course, I wouldn’t say anything I didn’t mean” He answers immediately after. “I want you in my life for eternity and so much more.”

[redislazy]

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 04

<< Chapter 03

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI > ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

Word Count: 7,483

-

Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

-

Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“You’re too visible,” Ghost mutters, his gaze flicking around the bustling street as if expecting someone to spot you at any moment.

The morning finds you and Ghost out on the streets of Istanbul, moving through the crowded alleys with a practiced air of detachment. Your mission is straightforward: gather intel on Aegis’ recent operations in the city without drawing attention. But of course, nothing about working with Ghost is ever straightforward.

You scoff, sidestepping a group of merchants with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “You’re the one in a hoodie and gloves on a warm day. I’m blending just fine.”

“It’s not just the look,” he snaps, voice kept low. “You’re not exactly subtle. You walk like you’re ready to start a fight.”

“And you don’t?” you retort, matching his tone. “You look like you’re one wrong look away from putting someone through a wall.”

He doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he focuses on the crowd ahead, though you catch the way his hands clench at his sides.

You both fall into tense silence, but it doesn’t take long before friction flares up again. Behind a corner stall, you spot a group of suited men exchanging cash and information—a telltale sign of Aegis dealings. As you prepare to move closer, Ghost’s gloved hand snaps out, gripping your arm.

“Hold up,” he mutters. “Too close. You’re going to tip them off.”

You pull your arm from his grip, irritation flaring. “I know how to do recon. I’ve been watching these types long before you came along.”

“Oh, really?” His tone drips with skepticism, gaze challenging. “That must be why Aegis still has your scent like blood in the water.”

You glare, resisting the urge to fire back with something equally cutting. “We’re supposed to be working together, or have you forgotten that already?”

Ghost’s voice lowers, edged with warning. “I haven’t forgotten. But you have a habit of thinking you know best, even when you’re out of your depth.”

Biting back a frustrated response, you feel the tension between you crackling like a live wire, ready to snap.

He shakes his head, muttering to himself before speaking again. “Just try it my way, for once. You might learn something.”

You grit your teeth, but against your better judgment, let him take the lead. The irritation simmers beneath the surface, but you swallow it, forcing yourself to focus on the mission.

You’d barely moved on from that exchange before the situation escalates. You’re trailing one of the Aegis informants when he glances back, his gaze sharp and sweeping over the street. In a heartbeat, he spots you, his eyes narrowing. You curse inwardly, feeling Ghost tense beside you, his own posture giving away the threat.

Without missing a beat, you seize the moment, reaching out to wrap your arm around Ghost’s waist and pulling him close. Before he can object, you slide your other hand to his chest, fingers splayed against the tough fabric of his jacket as you tilt your head toward his. “Just go with it,” you murmur, barely audible.

Ghost stiffens, his entire body practically vibrating with resistance. But the Aegis man is already watching, scrutinizing. There’s no time to argue.

Putting on the most convincing smile you can muster, you laugh softly, pressing closer into Ghost’s space. His arms instinctively come up to your shoulders, tense but holding steady, though he’s clearly as uncomfortable as he is caught off-guard. You lean into him, your voice dropping to a low murmur. “Act natural, Ghost.”

His gaze snaps to yours, and for a split second, you see a flicker of something unreadable there. You’re close enough now to notice the small flecks of blue in his otherwise dark eyes, and the way his jawline sharpens with each clenched muscle. With his mask on, only his eyes are exposed, but that alone is enough to assume what he's thinking.

He inhales deeply, and you feel the subtle shift in his posture as he settles into the role. “Fine,” he grits out, voice barely a whisper. His hands fall lower, resting on the small of your back, his fingers digging in as if grounding himself in the contact. His touch is firm, unfamiliar, and entirely too steady for a man supposedly uncomfortable with this.

Your heart pounds in your chest, an unexpected thrill coursing through you as you look up at him. You allow yourself to soften into his hold, your free hand lifting to trace over his collar, a gentle, intimate gesture meant to sell the image. His breath hitches, and you see the strain it takes for him to stay calm.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the Aegis operative slowing, still watching, his attention caught by your impromptu performance. Your pulse races, and to make it even more convincing, you tilt your head, voice lowering to an affectionate murmur.

“Just try not to look like you’d rather strangle me. Couples don’t usually do that, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, feigning the tone of someone playful, someone familiar.

Ghost’s jaw flexes. He leans down just a little, his mouth closer to your ear than is necessary. “Can’t say I’m in the mood to play games right now,” he mutters, each word laced with irritation.

The Aegis man watches a moment longer, then, with a brief shake of his head, turns away, apparently losing interest in what he assumes to be just a random couple visiting as tourists.

But you keep up the pretense a few moments longer, just in case, pressing closer to Ghost, letting your fingers graze his neck as if you’re brushing away invisible dust. The contact sends a jolt through you, each point of connection between you two heightened, charged with an intensity that has nothing to do with the mission.

“Next time, try using your head instead of whatever ridiculous impulse that was.” Ghost murmurs, his voice low and slightly strained, and you can’t help but notice the tightness in his tone. The moment stretches, awkward, as neither of you pulls away immediately.

You finally break the silence, letting out a soft laugh as you step back, creating a bit of space between you. You let your arms drop, barely holding back an eye roll. “My idea worked, didn’t it? If we’d gone with your tactic, he’d have already made us as threats.”

Ghost glares, unimpressed. “I don’t need advice from someone who thinks ‘blending in’ means making a spectacle.”

"Spectacle?” You snort, crossing your arms. “You think you’re subtle in that oversized hoodie, towering over everyone? Real covert, soldier.”

He leans in, his voice a rough whisper. “At least I’m not drawing attention by acting like we’re in some damn romance novel.”

You let out a mocking laugh, hands on your hips. “Don’t worry; I’m well aware this isn’t some romantic setup.” You can’t resist adding, “And trust me, you’re not exactly my type.”

He grunts, unimpressed. “Good. Wouldn’t want you getting attached.” With that, he steps forward, refocusing on the mission with the same cold, detached focus that somehow, despite everything, remains perfectly intact.

He nods down the alley, motioning for you to move along. You don’t miss a beat, following his lead. But as you both move forward, the feel of his steady hand, even in that begrudging moment, stays with you—far more than you’re willing to admit.

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You return to the safehouse in the city’s outskirts, the atmosphere thick with the scent of stale coffee and remnants of the last mission’s gear piled in corners. Price, Gaz, and Soap are gathered around the table, studying a large, folded map of the city as you and Ghost enter.

Price looks up, raising a brow. “You two look cozy. What’d you find out?”

Ghost’s jaw tightens, and you give Price a half-hearted glare. “Turns out the Aegis boys aren’t too hard to track. But they’re running tight security around their informants. We nearly had to dodge one who got suspicious.” You hesitate, shooting Ghost a sidelong glance. “But we managed.”

“‘Managed’? She practically threw herself on me,” Ghost mutters, half under his breath.

Soap snickers, unable to resist. “Didn’t know you were one for grand gestures, mate,” he drawls, clearly reveling in Ghost’s discomfort. “What was it this time? Arm over the shoulder, little peck on the cheek? Need details.”

Ghost gives him a deadly look. “Keep talking, and I’ll show you a ‘grand gesture’ you won’t forget.”

Ignoring them, you focus on the map and tap a finger at a cluster of marked points. “The recon confirmed Aegis is coordinating with locals here. Saw at least two exchanges. Money, files, maybe even weapons, though we couldn’t get close enough for specifics.”

Gaz nods thoughtfully, eyes tracking your finger on the map. “Did they look like they’d clocked us?”

“No, we kept it under wraps,” you say. “Though,” you add with a smirk, “someone here nearly blew our cover trying to look intimidating.”

“Funny. As I recall, it was you who nearly got us both caught,” Ghost retorts, crossing his arms. “Might want to re-evaluate your recon methods.”

Price interrupts. “Enough. We’ll stick to the task. Any idea where they’re taking these resources?”

You shake your head, but Ghost speaks up. “Not yet. But we saw a couple of their men make tracks toward a secondary site on the south side. Could be something worth checking.”

Soap rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “So basically, you both spent the day playing Romeo and Juliet and still didn’t find the main stash?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, we found something. Next time, maybe you’d like to take point and see how smoothly it goes.”

“Alright, enough of the bickering,” Price interjects with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “We’ll head out tonight to follow up on that lead, split up to cover more ground.”

Gaz cracks a grin, nudging Soap. “Maybe Ghost’ll take you this time, eh, Soap? Sounds like he’s warmed up to the partner routine.”

Ghost’s eyes narrow, a ghost of a smile in them. “Sure. But don’t expect the same cozy treatment. I’ll let you walk into trouble yourself.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Soap laughs, clearly enjoying every second of the ribbing.

Despite the banter, the team settles into a steady rhythm, dividing up roles for the evening recon. Price directs the team with his usual calm disposition, and as each person takes their assignment, the lighthearted tone fades into something more serious, each man’s focus sharpening.

Before long, you find yourself catching Ghost’s gaze again across the table, the memory of the ruse flickering briefly in his expression before he looks away, expression unreadable. In the space between words and plans, you can feel the unuttered pull linger, only slightly overshadowed by the next mission at hand.

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As the team disperses, you find yourself paired with Soap for the night, assigned to the district near the south docks. It’s surprisingly quiet for Istanbul, with narrow streets bathed in the faint glow of streetlights as you both slip into the shadowed alleys.

Soap grins, giving you a quick once-over. “Don’t worry, I’m a bit friendlier than Ghost. Might even share a laugh if you’re lucky.”

You smirk. “That’s a relief. I was starting to think everyone on this team was required to be at least half as grumpy as he is.”

Soap chuckles, the sound low and easy. “Ghost? Aye, he’s got a mood for every shade of the alphabet. But he’s solid. Can’t imagine anyone else at my back.”

The way he says it sparks a curiosity you hadn’t expected. “So what’s he like? Beyond the scowl and the tactical gear?”

Soap raises an eyebrow, as if surprised by the question. “You want the classified or the censored version?”

“Whichever one you’ll actually tell me.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright then. Ghost, he’s… complicated. Not the easiest to get along with, but he’s got this way of lookin’ out for people. Might not say it, but he cares. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s pulled me out of a tight spot.”

“So he’s… what? The ‘quiet, brooding protector’ type?”

Soap’s eyes light up with amusement. “That’s a bit generous, don’t you think? Nah, he’s more like… well, imagine a guard dog that bites first and doesn’t bother with questions. But when he trusts you, he’s loyal to the bone.”

There’s something about the way Soap talks about him, a deep-rooted respect, maybe even admiration. You hesitate, glancing down the street. “He doesn’t exactly make it easy for people to trust him back.”

“Aye, well, Ghost’s been through more than most of us,” Soap says, his tone softening. “You get the mask, the armor—hard to know what’s really under it, even for us. But he’s there when it counts. Saved all our hides more times than I can count.”

You nod slowly, piecing together the fragments. “Sounds like he’s more than just a soldier to you all.”

Soap looks at you, a bit of that playfulness gone. “To us, he’s family. You’re the closest thing to safe when you’ve got Ghost on your team, even if he doesn’t show it.”

You’re quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words. The contrast between Soap’s easy camaraderie and Ghost’s guarded presence feels stark, and something tugs at you—a strange curiosity about what lies beyond Ghost’s cold exterior.

Just then, Soap’s gaze shifts, his eyes narrowing as he scans the street ahead. “Heads up. Movement near the docks.”

Falling silent, you follow his line of sight. Two figures, both Aegis operatives, are talking by a dimly lit warehouse door. Instinctively, you both duck into the shadows.

You and Soap move quietly, slipping into the darkness along the side of the building. The Aegis operatives are deep in conversation, oblivious to their surroundings. Soap nods to you, indicating that he’ll loop around to cover the back while you hold position. With quick, soundless steps, he disappears down the alley, leaving you to observe the scene from the front.

As you crouch by a stack of crates, your earpiece crackles. “Eyes on the pair?” Soap’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Got ‘em,” you reply, watching as one of the men takes out a phone, glancing around before making a call. “They’re definitely up to something.”

The Aegis operatives’ conversation is too low to hear, but their gestures hint at something urgent. One of them hands off a small, sealed package, and your pulse quickens, recognizing it as intel worth retrieving. You lean closer, straining to catch any detail.

Suddenly, a third man appears at the entrance to the warehouse, looking straight in your direction. Your breath catches, and you press yourself further into the shadows, heart hammering as you resist the instinct to reach for your weapon.

But just before you’re forced to make a move, Soap’s voice comes over the line again, casual and unbothered. “Don’t s’pose I could take the package off yer hands, lads?”

The operatives whip around, their focus now diverted as Soap steps into view, looking every bit the cocky, unbothered soldier. He flashes them a grin, hands held just loose enough to suggest he’s armed.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you slip around the crates, circling back toward the men from behind. Soap, in his element, keeps their attention fixed on him, holding their gaze as he strikes up a casual banter, his voice carrying just enough to keep them engaged.

“I’ll have you know,” Soap is saying, “my mate here’s got a keen eye on what you’re holdin’. Might be wise to hand it over.”

With perfect timing, you appear behind the nearest operative, reaching around to pull the package free from his hand just as Soap gives you a slight nod. The men realize too late what’s happening, and by the time they spin around to catch you, both you and Soap are already slipping back into the shadows, disappearing down the narrow alley.

Once safely out of sight, Soap breaks into a triumphant grin. “Nice teamwork back there. Not too shabby for a last-minute operation.”

You laugh softly, catching your breath as you glance down at the package in your hand. “Guess we make a good team after all. Might just get used to this.”

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me,” He teases, his grin widening. “One mission at a time, yeah?”

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With the intel in hand, you regroup with the rest of Task Force 141. You share the intel with the team, presenting the package to Price. He inspects it carefully, eyes narrowing as he pieces together the implications. The atmosphere in the room is serious, with everyone focused on the potential fallout of what you’ve just acquired.

“Good work,” Price nods, glancing between you and Soap. “You two made quite the pair out there.”

Soap feigns offense, putting a hand over his heart dramatically. “Are you sayin’ we’re a couple now, Captain?”

“Only if you keep makin’ those silly faces, Johnny,” Ghost mutters from the corner, his tone low and steady. The mask he wears obscures his expression, but you can almost feel the eye roll behind it.

Soap snorts, turning to you with a conspiratorial grin. “See? Even he can’t deny our chemistry.”

“Right, because nothing says teamwork like you flirting your way through a mission,” you retort, crossing your arms with a smirk. The banter lightens the mood, a brief distraction from the gravity of your task.

As the team gathers around the table in the secure room, Captain Price steps forward, wearing a pair of black gloves to maintain the integrity of the evidence. He carefully sets the package down, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Captain Price says, his voice steady but laced with focus. He flicks open the package, the sound of tape tearing breaking the tense silence.

He reaches in and pulls out a hard drive, holding it up like a trophy. “This,” He says, “could hold encrypted communications. We need to run this through our systems ASAP. If it contains the right information, it could expose Aegis’s entire operation.”

He sets the drive down on the table with a determined expression. “This is a potential gold mine. We’ll analyze it and figure out our next move. Well done, team. Let’s keep the momentum going.”

The room buzzes with renewed energy as the team begins discussing their next steps, the weight of the mission settling in as they prepare to crack open the drive.

The meeting wraps up, providing you some time to rest. You can’t shake the feeling that this might be a turning point, not just for your mission but for your place within the team. The challenges ahead seem daunting, but with Task Force 141 proving themselves to be solid allies, you feel like you can ease up a little.

Late into the night, the dim light of a single desk lamp flickers against the walls of the operations room. Papers are strewn across the table, and the glow of a computer screen casts an eerie illumination on your tired face. 

Inside the hard drive, you uncover a maze of encrypted files and fragmented data—a chaotic assortment of documents, names, transaction logs, and surveillance footage. Aegis hasn’t left all their secrets in one place; instead, they’ve left a collection of clues, each file holding a piece of something larger, but almost impossible to make sense of at first glance.

The files range from heavily coded communication logs between high-level operatives to bank account information buried behind layers of false accounts and international wire transfers. Some documents reference specific locations—safehouses, abandoned warehouses, private airfields—but they’re listed under codenames. Without context, they’re nothing more than cryptic coordinates. There are also brief dossiers with incomplete profiles of known mercenaries, possibly detailing recruits Aegis has had contact with, though their roles remain murky.

As you sift through this labyrinth of information, you realize the enormity of the task ahead. Just decrypting these files will take time, but making sense of the connections—figuring out who these people are, how each transaction feeds into Aegis’s broader operations, and what they’re building toward—feels like piecing together a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

“Bloody hell…” you mutter under your breath, scanning through what looks like one of many altered account logs, noting how Aegis has buried its dealings under layers of bureaucracy and false names. This kind of data will need more than just brute force; it’ll require teams at the main SAS base, with analysts who can cross-reference against other intelligence databases and put everything in context.

You lean back, rubbing your temples. It’s maddeningly complex and deliberately fragmented. You have a hard drive full of secrets—but until you get the proper resources and time to decrypt and analyze it, you’re left with more questions than answers.

For now, all you can do is wait for Price to send it off. And in the meantime, you know every passing day gives Aegis more time to cover their tracks, complicating the hunt even further.

The faint sound of footsteps approaches, and you barely notice until a shadow falls over your desk. You look up to see Ghost, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Still at it?” he asks, his voice low but firm.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t help it. There’s too much at stake here. We need to figure out what Aegis is planning. If we miss something—”

“Yeah, I get it,” he replies, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. “But you’re going to wear yourself out. You can’t do this on fumes.”

You shrug, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What’s the point of sleeping? Aegis betrayed me over one failed mission. They’re not going to let that go. They’ll come after me, and I can’t just sit back and wait for them to make their move.”

Ghost’s gaze narrows slightly, and he tilts his head as he listens. “I know it’s rough. But pushing yourself isn’t going to change what they’re planning. You think you can outsmart them just by burning the midnight oil?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a mix of annoyance and determination. “It’s not just about being smart. It’s about being ready. Aegis is ruthless. They’re not going to stop until they’ve made an example of me. I can’t let that happen.”

Ghost’s expression softens slightly, but he keeps his tone even. “You’ve got every reason to be pissed off. But don’t let that drive you to exhaustion. You need to keep your wits about you if you’re going to face them again.”

You lean back in your chair, exhaling slowly. “I know what I need to do, but I’m not going to stand by while they plot against me. I can’t afford to be blindsided again.”

“Just don’t lose sight of yourself in the process,” he says, his voice steady. “It’s easy to let anger take the wheel. You don’t want to make any reckless moves.”

Finally, you let out a short laugh, albeit without humor. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Ghost. I’ll keep that in mind while I’m trying to keep my head above water.”

He gives you a faint nod, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, perhaps in acknowledgment of your sarcasm. As he turns to leave, you feel a strange sense of resolution settle over you. You don’t need his encouragement, but having him listen—even with that no-nonsense approach—makes a difference.

“Try to get some sleep,” he says over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway. You don’t know if you’ll actually follow his advice, but you feel a little lighter, as if you can face whatever Aegis has in store for you, one way or another.

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“Oi, you look like hell,” Soap says, grinning as he nudges your arm. “Didn’t catch much shut-eye last night?”

You roll your eyes, gripping your coffee like it’s a lifeline. “I got enough,” you mutter, giving him a glare over the rim of your mug.

“Enough to sleepwalk, maybe,” Soap teases. “Just don’t trip over yourself when we’re in the field, eh?”

Price leans back in his chair, looking between you and Ghost. “You two done givin’ each other grief yet?” he says with a slight smirk.

“Can’t help it if she’s stubborn,” Ghost grumbles, arms crossed. “Or if she insists on overworking herself.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. “As if you’re not constantly brooding somewhere with no regard for sleep.”

Gaz chuckles, glancing at Soap. “Think they’ll ever get along?”

Soap shrugs with a mischievous grin. “Nah, that’d be boring. They’re more fun like this.”

“Right, because fun’s what we’re here for,” Ghost deadpans, shooting Soap a pointed look.

Before Soap can come up with a retort, a loud beep echoes through the room, cutting the banter short. The team goes silent as Price taps his earpiece, eyes narrowing with focus.

“This is Price,” he says, his voice all business now. He listens intently, and his expression grows darker with each passing second. “Understood. We’ll move in immediately.”

He looks at each of you in turn, his jaw set. “Just got word from HQ. Aegis movements reported on the eastern front of the city—some high-profile targets involved. Intel suggests they’re gearing up for something, but details are thin.”

Gaz straightens. “So they’re here, then? What do you reckon they’re after?”

“Could be retaliation, could be more intel grabs,” Price replies. “We won’t know till we’re in there. But this is what we’ve been preparing for.”

Ghost gives you a sharp look, his expression unreadable. “Looks like you’re gettin’ your wish,” he says, a hint of warning in his tone.

You meet his gaze, unflinching. “Good. Maybe I can finally get some answers.”

“Save your vendettas,” Price interrupts. “We go in sharp and leave nothing to chance. I want recon and support in teams. Soap, you’re with Gaz. Ghost, you’re with her.”

Soap gives a mock salute, grinning. “Guess it’s date night for the both of you again.”

You and Ghost shoot him equally exasperated looks, but the levity is brief as the weight of the mission settles over everyone.

“Alright, gear up,” Price orders. “We move in ten.”

The team disperses to prepare, the air thick with tension and purpose. But you can’t shake the feeling of anticipation, your mind already running through scenarios as you prepare to face Aegis again.

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You and Ghost are in the heart of the city, navigating through narrow alleyways toward an abandoned building where Aegis is rumored to be holed up. The air is thick with pressure, the sharp scent of gunpowder lingering in the air, and the faint hum of activity just out of sight. The team has dispersed into their positions, but you can’t shake the heavy feeling of anticipation pressing down on you. Aegis is moving fast, too fast, and you didn’t think they would strike this soon.

You spent all night huddled over your desk, scanning through endless intelligence reports, piecing together a fragmented picture of Aegis’s operations. You thought you had more time. You thought you could afford to burn the midnight oil, believing that if you could just connect the dots, you could prepare for what was coming.

Had you known they’d be on the move so quickly, you would have rested. You would’ve prepped your body, gotten the sleep you so desperately needed. But now, as exhaustion clings to you like a second skin, you feel every bit of it catching up. Your head is heavy, your limbs sluggish, and your focus is just a fraction slower than it should be. You can feel your grip tightening on your weapon, but it’s not enough to stave off the creeping fatigue that clouds your senses.

You take a sharp breath and push through. You can’t afford to slow down now. But as you step into another narrow passage, your foot catches on a loose stone. The stumble is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. Before you can react, a figure emerges from the shadows, and a flash of movement pulls you back to reality. Your weapon goes up instinctively, but the delay is just enough for the figure to get a shot off.

“On your left!” Ghost barks, urgency in his voice.

You squeeze the trigger, narrowly avoiding disaster as the enemy drops to the ground. The tension in your chest refuses to ease, but Ghost isn’t letting you off the hook.

He spins toward you, fury simmering in his gaze. “What the bloody hell was that? You’re slipping. Again.” His voice is low, but it’s thick with anger, his arms crossed as he towers over you. “You think you can keep pushing yourself like this, running on fumes? Is that what you’re trying to do, get yourself killed?”

You bite back the sharp retort, feeling the weight of his anger digging into you. You’ve made a mess of this, and the guilt is clawing at your chest. “I didn’t expect them to move this fast,” you say, your voice tight. “Had I known they’d be ready, I would’ve prepared better. But I thought—”

“Enough!” Ghost interrupts, his voice rising slightly, his glare intensifying. “You think this is a bloody game? Aegis doesn’t wait around for you to get your head on straight. You can’t afford to be careless. You’re not invincible, and I’m not here to babysit you while you burn yourself out.”

The sting of his words lands harder than any bullet could, and you feel your chest tighten. His anger isn’t just frustration—it’s something deeper. You know you’ve crossed a line, and it makes your throat constrict as his words hit harder than you thought they would.

“Ghost…” You start to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He takes a step closer, his gaze unrelenting, the edge of his voice cutting through the quiet. “You’re not just risking your life. You’re risking all of ours by pushing yourself like this. And I’m sick of watching you burn out, thinking you’re going to win this on your own.”

You can feel his anger radiating off him, thick and palpable, and it makes your stomach churn. You’re fully aware of your mistakes now—of your failure to rest, of your exhaustion clouding your judgment. The weight of it presses down on you, but you don’t dare let it show.

Your lips tremble slightly, fighting the wave of emotion that threatens to overwhelm you. You know he’s right. You fucked up, and there’s no denying it now. You stay silent, swallowing the rising lump in your throat, trying to compose yourself.

“Don’t you dare make this harder than it already is,” Ghost growls, his voice harsh, but there’s something else in it now—something that sounds almost… worried. “This mission is too important for your pride. Now pull it together, or I swear to God I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

Your head spins with a mix of frustration, guilt, and exhaustion. But before you can respond, the quiet night air is shattered by the sound of gunfire. The ground trembles beneath your boots as Aegis reinforcements surge from the shadows. The mission has officially kicked into high gear.

“Stay sharp,” Ghost orders, the anger in his tone giving way to focus as the team goes on high alert.

You don’t have time to argue. You push past the knot in your stomach and focus. Gunfire rings out, and before you know it, you’re thrust into the chaos—bullets flying, shouts filling the air. You move with purpose, your instincts kicking in, but the exhaustion never truly leaves. Your movements feel sluggish, slower than you want them to be, and it shows in the way you miss a few too many shots.

Ghost moves beside you, covering your blind spots, keeping an eye on you as you both push through the streets. The mission has become a blur of adrenaline, but you know the stakes are high. The pressure mounts with every passing second.

Then, just as you’re about to make your next move, you hear it—a footstep behind you. Without thinking, you spin, ready to fire. But the attacker is quicker, his blade flashing toward Ghost, and you only have a split second to react.

You throw yourself forward, shoving him aside, feeling the sharp sting of the enemy’s blade graze across the back of your shoulder as you land. The pain is immediate—burning and sharp—but you fight it down, keeping your focus.

You hear Ghost curse as you roll to your feet, weapon still in hand, and fire, taking down the enemy in a single shot. But you’re not focused on that. You can feel the blood soaking through your shirt, the warmth of it trickling down your back, but your body is still running on pure instinct.

Ghost’s hands are on your shoulders before you can fully process what’s happening. “For god’s sake, are you trying to die out here?” His voice cracks with frustration, his fingers gently pressing against your wound, but you barely register it through the haze of pain.

“Twice now,” you mutter under your breath, trying to steady yourself as your vision swims. “Guess I saved your ass again.”

For a brief moment, Ghost falls silent. His gaze lingers on your back, then moves to your face. You can’t look at him. You’re not sure you could if you wanted to. He doesn’t say anything, but his gloved hands are firm as he checks the wound, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The silence between you both feels thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” he finally growls, his voice low but not without a trace of concern buried deep beneath the frustration.

And as he helps you back to your feet, his hand on your shoulder, you know that despite the weight of his anger, he’s still watching your back.

The pain in your shoulder is sharp, but you can’t afford to think about it now. Ghost’s grip on your arm is firm, steadying you as you stand. You can feel his gaze on you, but you avoid looking at him. There’s nothing left to say right now. Not when the mission is still in full swing, and Aegis is still out there.

You take a quick breath and focus. “I’ll be fine,” you mutter, biting back the wave of dizziness that threatens to pull you under. You reach for your medical kit, the sharp sting of your wound only registering as you unstrap it, cursing under your breath.

“Don’t get stupid,” Ghost mutters, but his voice is lower now, tinged with a quiet frustration that’s almost a comfort in the heat of the moment.

You tear off a piece of cloth from the sleeve of your jacket, quickly applying a makeshift bandage to your shoulder. It’s not much—a temporary fix at best—but it’ll do for now. You can feel the blood seeping through your clothes, but the pressure should at least slow the bleeding.

With a quick nod to Ghost, you signal that you’re good to go. The pain is still there, pulsing with each movement, but you’ll push through. You have to.

“Let’s move,” you say, your voice a little steadier than before, though it cracks slightly. You don’t wait for his reply, already moving forward with your weapon in hand, eyes scanning every corner for Aegis.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate to fall in step beside you, his eyes on high alert, always watching. His earlier anger is still simmering beneath the surface, but there’s a silent understanding between you now. He doesn’t trust you to keep pushing yourself, but he’s not about to leave you behind.

The streets are eerily quiet as you advance, the only sounds being your footsteps and the occasional distant crackle of gunfire. You’ve lost the element of surprise. The enemy knows you’re here, and Aegis has always been good at covering their tracks. You can feel it in the air—an overwhelming sense of dread that tightens your chest.

As you reach the center of the abandoned district, the team regroups, spreading out to cover every possible exit. There’s no sign of Aegis yet. The trap is set. But as the minutes tick by, doubt begins to creep in.

Nothing. No sign of movement, no reinforcements rushing in. It feels… wrong. Your stomach churns as the silence stretches on, your nerves taut as you wait for something—anything. But the longer you wait, the more your instincts start to scream at you.

You glance at Ghost, who’s scanning the horizon. His jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed in concentration. He senses it too. You feel a growing unease, that something isn’t right. Aegis shouldn’t be this quiet. They should have come to fight.

Then, the realization hits. They’re gone.

“Shit,” Ghost growls, slamming his fist against a nearby wall in frustration. “They slipped through our fingers.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. The bitter taste of failure is heavy on your tongue. Aegis has outmaneuvered you again, leaving nothing behind but empty streets and the echo of your own mistakes.

You’re not surprised, but the sting of it cuts just as deep. You push down the urge to lash out, to blame yourself for not being more prepared, for not being sharp enough, for still feeling the burn of the wound in your shoulder that’s distracting you.

“Price is gonna love this,” you mutter, your voice a mix of bitterness and exhaustion.

“Focus on getting back,” Ghost snaps, though there’s no real malice behind the words. It’s just a statement of fact. No time for self-pity. “We’ll regroup at the base, figure out what went wrong.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mission was a failure, and the weight of it sits heavy on your chest as you make your way back to base with Ghost. His presence behind you is unyielding, and there’s a quiet tension in the air that neither of you speaks of. You know you fucked up. You should have rested, you should have been prepared, and now Aegis is slipping through your fingers again. Ghost’s gaze doesn’t leave you, his silence louder than any words could be.

Once inside the base, Ghost grabs your arm without warning, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Ghost, what the hell—?” you start, but he doesn’t let go.

You’re about to say something, but the words die in your throat. It’s not until you reach his room that he stops and turns to face you, eyes hard as he surveys your face.

“Take off your shirt,” he orders, voice rough, brows drawn in frustration.

Your heart skips a beat, and your stomach drops. You freeze for a second, not understanding, trying to make sense of his words, but it’s clear he’s not going to back down.

“You heard me,” he growls. “Off. Now.”

You stand there, blinking in shock, your mind struggling to process his demand. “What?” you sputter, cheeks flaring as the words sink in.

His gaze doesn't waver, not even a flicker of understanding or amusement. “The wound on your back. Take off your shirt so I can see it properly.”

“Oh.” You blink, realizing what he actually meant, and feel the embarrassment rush in, hotter and sharper than you’d expected. “Right. Of course. The… wound.”

Despite your best efforts to keep it casual, your hands fumble at the hem of your shirt, and you can't ignore the faint, traitorous flush creeping up your neck. Ghost doesn't seem to notice—or if he does, he shows no sign of it, his focus locked on the matter at hand.

But the command still makes you tense. You feel your cheeks flush, your breath hitching in your throat as your mind races. You’re caught between being embarrassed and feeling the sting of humiliation. You haven’t let anyone see you like this—vulnerable, injured, exposed. And now Ghost is making you do it.

You look up at him, and there’s no softness in his eyes. He just stares at you with a hard, unrelenting gaze, waiting for you to comply.

“Do it,” he repeats, and his voice is a little tense this time, almost like a command for your own good.

Reluctantly, you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the fabric of your bra. The cool air of the room hits your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed you are, how vulnerable it makes you feel. Your breath hitches, and you quickly turn your back to him, feeling the heat rise to your face.

“Just… patch it up,” you murmur, trying to make the moment less awkward. The thought of standing there, half-undressed, feels like a lifetime of embarrassment.

Ghost stays silent for a long beat. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost measured, as if trying to hold back some frustration.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no anger in his tone now, just a soft edge of concern that you wouldn’t have expected from him. “You push yourself too far. Didn’t I warn you?”

You feel your heart race in your chest, not from fear but from something else—something that’s hard to place. Maybe it’s his words or maybe it’s the vulnerability of the moment, but it makes you feel more exposed than you ever have before.

“Ghost, I—”

He cuts you off, gently moving to stand behind you. You feel his hands near your shoulder, and you tense instinctively, but he doesn’t make any sudden moves. Instead, his fingers hover just over the wound.

“Don’t make me regret letting you keep going like this,” he says, his voice softer now. There’s no anger, no frustration—just something else. Almost an apology without the words. It makes your breath catch. “You saved me back there, and I…”

You’re surprised when he doesn’t finish his sentence. The silence in the room stretches, thick with something you don’t quite understand. Ghost’s hands move to gently tend to the wound on your back, the pressure light as he dabs at the injury, cleaning it carefully. It stings, but you don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

As Ghost finishes cleaning around the wound, his hand stills for a moment, lingering against your shoulder. His gloved fingers trace gently over the outline of the injury, almost as if he’s memorizing the line of it, and the silence stretches between you, deep and drawn out. Your breath hitches, the tenderness in his touch starkly at odds with the fury he showed earlier. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before—one that feels cautious, almost hesitant, and something deep inside you stirs—a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and uncharacteristically solemn. “Thanks,” he mutters, barely louder than a whisper. His fingers linger a fraction longer, tracing the area surrounding the wound with a kind of reverence that surprises you. “For what you did back there.”

The words hang in the air between you, raw and genuine. You can tell it costs him something to say it, to admit he appreciates what you’ve done—even if he hates the risks you took. You swallow, feeling an unexpected warmth settle in your chest at his words. It’s rare to hear him offer any gratitude, and the vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard.

“I… didn’t do it to impress you,” you reply, voice steady but soft.

Another silence falls, more loaded this time. His hand shifts slightly, his thumb barely brushing against the edge of your shoulder blade, and the gentleness in the touch has your pulse racing despite yourself. He seems to be struggling with something—some inner hesitation that makes his grip falter, his fingers tensing slightly against your skin.

“Still,” he murmurs after a long pause, his voice so quiet you barely catch it, “you don’t have to do it like that. Don’t throw yourself in harm’s way just because of me.”

“If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same, I hope," you reply quietly.

Ghost’s jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t deny it. He lets out a slow, measured breath, his fingers lingering on your shoulder one last time before he pulls his hand back, the warmth of his touch disappearing as quickly as it came.

“Doesn’t make it any easier to watch, though,” he says, almost to himself, his tone somewhere between exasperation and resignation.

The two of you stand there in silence for a beat longer, the unuttered words between you thickening the air, and for once, neither of you breaks it. 

For the first time since you two met, you feel like you're beginning to understand the kind of person he is.

[tower-arcana]

𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘. its me. your husband. anyhow could you perchance give us(me) some welt yang x reader hcs >.< specifically with stellaron hunter!reader because im Very Subtle. thank you i love you ― 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀fait ♥

a/n: Oh man i wonder who this is heh BUT HELLO PARFAIT i'd love to deliver the old man yaoi content you happen to desire... i love you too, i hope you enjoyed this, i went a bit more freeform with this stellaron hunter reader but i had a blast with it regardless! (it's a lot of set up for possible continuations of this scenario and specific reader But i wasn't sure where to go with a general prompt) (ignore how bad i am with fight scene descriptions)

The Whims of Fate.

welt yang x stellaron hunter reader!

word count: 1,511 . . .

In a literal sense, Welt Yang and you were adversaries. The Stellaron Hunters had clashed time and time again with the Astral Express, even if it did turn out the wanted criminals had unknown motives for wanting the Nameless to succeed in their ventures.

There were simply too many questions without answers for Welt Yang to have a concrete opinion against or for the Stellaron Hunters just yet, but that didn’t mean that your faction’s capabilities and destructive habits could be excused. He was in no position to detain or arrest any one of the Stellaron Hunters, but the fights that came from their opposing positions needed to be handled regardless of the end result.

So, yes, Welt Yang had faced down with the Stellaron Hunters’ members both directly and indirectly before, but he had to admit that he hadn’t gained much of an understanding of your motives before compared to other members like Kafka or Firefly.

You were quite the enigma, someone who under normal circumstances would’ve never been expected to join such a destructive group of outlaws; a follower of the path of Preservation, your abilities were much more geared towards defense compared to the combat prowess the other Hunters seemed to hold. Even your behavior was much more peaceful and dare he say docile in contrast…

So why? Why would you follow Elio so willingly? What had you seen – what had you gone through to cling to the notion that this was the way things must be done?

These were questions Welt Yang’s mind had often drifted to in his freetime, and today it seemed like he’d at least have a slim opportunity to get some sort of answer out of you. On a small commercial-oriented planet just a little out of the way of the Astral Express crew’s next destination, that’s where he’d found you; even you had the tendency to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the usual crowds, whether destruction was what surrounded you or otherwise.

It just so happened that this was one of the times that the Stellaron Hunters left chaos in their wake, and though Welt Yang was on his own for the moment, he couldn’t just stand by and let you sew such seeds of distress, could he? With a terse frown and a quickening pace, he closed the distance between you, his cane at the ready for the inevitable combat that would ensue.

“For criminals who have their bounties placed on every wanted board within the galaxy… you’d think you’d grow to be far more discreet in your business,” Welt Yang commented dryly, voice lacking amusement as the acrid scent of smoke filled his senses. Of course they had to start a fire, of course they did.

Blade moved to engage, sword at the ready, but you quickly brought a hand up to stop him. The two of you seemed to exchange a wordless agreement before the man backed off, and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters began to retreat entirely with you as their blockade. Were they really just going to leave you behind to defend for yourself, Welt Yang wondered?

Regardless, he couldn’t stand for such an easy end to things. With a hardened look of resolve, Welt Yang brought up his cane and fired off a blast to intercept the others’ getaway, and for a moment it almost seemed like it worked. He wasn’t a fool to underestimate your capabilities, however, not after his many years in combat.

And so, when the smoke cleared and a gold barrier had retained no damage in its action of barring Welt Yang from both you and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters, he was hardly surprised. From behind the shield, your smile almost seemed apologetic, though — that was what astonished him.

“I’m afraid ‘discreet’ simply isn’t in our line of business, Mister Welt Yang,” You chuckled a bit sheepishly, your friendliness a stark contrast to the tenseness of the situation, but Welt Yang quickly recovered.

“As I’ve come to notice,” Welt Yang huffed, and for a moment he was almost amused by the entirety of the situation; he didn’t allow the sentiment to linger for long, though, and the brief flash of a half-smile disappeared as he brought his cane down yet again. “Even so, whether it’s the norm for you or not, it’s something I simply can’t let slide.”

Without so much as a pause between his words, another potent blast of energy surged forth and hit the shield with even greater strength, and Welt Yang watched with a hint of satisfaction as your eyes widened, the barrier itself cracking. And yet, that emotion too was left behind as the shield broke into countless shards of golden glass, only for these shards to come hurtling towards him with barely enough time to register the attack.

Cursing underneath his breath, Welt Yang managed to dodge and deflect most of the projectiles, but a few cut through his defenses all the same. With a few tears in both flesh and clothing, he realized then that you were perhaps more capable at self defense than he’d first thought you to be.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, I assure you,” Even your own expression had lost its warmth to an extent, instead replaced by your own sense of determination as you brought up yet another shield between yourself and Welt Yang as he recovered. “But this is simply the way things must be done, Mister Yang; whether you understand why or not. Forgive me for the time we’re about to waste here…”

“Then tell me why! You can’t expect people not to find faults in your actions if you constantly avoid a proper explanation or reasoning for it all, can you?” Welt Yang pressed back as he forced you to guard yourself yet again, slowly but surely backing you further and further towards the railing that your teammates had disappeared over just moments before.

This time, Welt Yang opted for a simple swing of his cane, a sudden and blunt move that caught you off guard — you barely had time to dodge the attack before he’d promptly cracked the cane against your temple, sending you crashing down onto your back from the weight of the blow. Apparently, your defensive capabilities had weak points in the simple case of physical attacks… at least the unexpected ones, but perhaps he’d just been lucky. Regardless, Welt Yang took the chance to kneel down before you instead of attacking yet again while you were down, even going as far as to offer you a hand and a look that urged you to understand his reasoning.

“Tell me. Perhaps you do have justifiable reasons for your actions, even to the point we could be allies… but how will I ever know if you expect me to read your mind?” Welt Yang’s tone was nearly pleading as he pushed further, and for a moment, he was almost sure he’d gotten through to you.

Unfortunately, whatever had brought you to align with the Stellaron Hunters in the first place was enough to keep you loyal to them through and through; Welt Yang’s hopes of finding answers were crushed as your eyes narrowed and, with a swift kick to his chest that sent him off balance more than anything, you brought up yet another glowing shield between yourself and him.

“It’s not my story to tell, Mister Welt Yang. You’ll understand in time — everyone will, but until that time, I’m afraid the script is not yours to read,” You stated firmly and without room for argument, and before Welt Yang could so much as get to his feet, your own shield had begun to dig into the cement between the two of you, cutting clean through the ground and causing the entirety of the ledge he’d backed you against to crumble completely.

“Wait–!” Welt Yang tried to protest, to try and at least reason with you one last time, but it was too late. You fell from the ledge, and before he could properly break through the shield and get to you, the SAM suit of Firefly had already caught you; had she been laying in wait for you to fall all along?

Whatever the answer to that may be, or any of the other questions nagging at Welt Yang’s mind at that moment, none of these queries went answered like he had hoped. He could only sigh and stand, dusting himself off and wincing as he finally noticed the stinging pain of the cuts within his arms. He’d have to tend to those soon…

But for now, Welt Yang was as content as he could be to make the trek back to the Express — while that confrontation hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, he knew your words would be floating around his mind for days to come, just as his would hopefully be plaguing yours. Next time, he assured himself, next time he’d sit down and have a proper conversation with you and expand on the foundations he’d dug today.

[endless-summer-soldier]

cruel to be kind - chapter six

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.5k

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Y/N sat on a baja blanket, staring out into the ocean, wondering if he would come. Sam confirmed he was able to sneak Bucky the mixtape, but Y/N wasn’t sure that he had decoded her message. On the tracklist, she underlined different letters and numbers that read “Sat 2PM 7th St Beach.” It was subtle, which was her style, but she wasn’t even sure he would figure it out. Hell, he might not even have noticed the pattern. In her mind, it was almost like a test. If he didn’t decode the message, then things weren’t meant to be. 

She eyed the book sitting in her lap, willing herself to at least try to read to distract her mind. But everytime she finished a page, she checked her watch to see what time it was. It was now 1:56 and the weight residing in her stomach grew heavier. Who was she kidding, he wasn’t going to show up. This whole thing was stupid and she was kicking herself for ever thinking it was a good idea. She hated this feeling. This was why she pushed people away. Being vulnerable was the easiest way to get hurt. 

And now a tear was falling down her cheek. She was so in her head about things that she was crying. She quickly wiped the single tear off her cheek and laid back on the blanket, placing the open book over her face. She had to get her shit together. She would not be the girl crying over a guy. Y/N took in a deep inhale and breathed out of her mouth, calming her nervous system. The oxygen was all she needed to clear her head. Her decision was made.

She stood in the sand and tossed her book in her bag. She folded up her blanket and collected her sandals, trudging through the sand to the boardwalk.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already. I’m only a few minutes late, and for good reason.” Bucky stood in front of her, in his signature leather jacket, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“What are you doing here,” she stated more than asked, adding a few more bricks to the wall that was guarding her heart.

“I got your message,” he smiled. He walked closer towards her and handed her a cup of coffee. “Figured we had some catching up to do,” he added.

She stood there, still processing this. He came. He figured out the message and he showed up. He passed the test. She hadn’t really thought through what would actually happen if he came. And now here he was, standing in front of her.

Before she could respond, Bucky stepped closer, taking the blanket out of her hands and splaying it out over the sand.

“Come on,” he urged her. She didn’t object, sitting down next to him as they looked out onto the ocean.

“I’ve never heard you this quiet before. You usually have a biting remark queued up as soon as you see me.”

“I do not,” she argued.

“See, that’s better already,” he joked, giving her shoulder a light nudge.

“I didn’t think you would come,” she admitted.

“You didn’t think I would come or you didn’t think I would decode your message?”

 “The latter is probably a bit more accurate,” she said sheepishly.

“I know it may seem like I’m just a pretty face, but I’ve been known to have clever thoughts every so often.”

His attempts at getting her to loosen up were moderately successful, but she still wasn’t willing to open up just yet. Luckily, Bucky had planned for this. He knew this conversation would take some work.

“Are you happy to see me here?” he asked.

She let out a sigh, “I am. I hate to admit this, but I missed you these past few weeks.”

Bucky placed a hand over his heart, “You missed me?”

She hit his bicep with the back of her hand, “Don’t make me say it again.”

“I missed you too. And all I wanted was to talk to you and explain things. So thank you for giving me the opportunity to do that.”

She merely nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So let me start by admitting that I am a complete idiot and I probably don’t even deserve a second chance, but I appreciate you giving me a chance to redeem myself.”

“Good start,” she commented.

“I agreed to the dare just to get Zemo to shut up. And I think the only reason I really went for it is because you intrigued me. I always found you attractive but I never pursued you because…well honestly you don’t come across as very friendly.”

Y/N chuckled and he continued.

“And then when I first talked to you, it was like I had this need for you to like me. I wanted to figure out what made you tick, and the more time I spent with you, the more I liked you. I need you to know that everything I said was true and that the person you spent all that time with was the real me. The dare just gave me a reason to talk to you. These past few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I haven’t been eating, I’ve barely slept, knowing that I hurt you has been killing me. I can promise you, I will never hurt you again. I think I might be in love with you, and this is the first time I’ve ever felt this way so I’m still figuring it all out, but I will do anything to win you back. I’ll bring you breakfast every morning, I will carry all your books and walk you to class every day, I will give you my car. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just please, give me another chance.”

She was quiet for a second, processing his words. 

“Could you, like, say something?” he asked nervously, struggling to read her expression.

“I’m thinking,” she responded. “Did you rehearse that?”

He was confused by her question, but answered anyway. “I mean I had points I wanted to hit on. I think I may have strayed a little bit towards the middle but I think I ended strong.”

She gave him a small smile, “Do you really mean it all or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

He took her hand, “Y/N, I’m not here to bullshit you. I mean every single word. You are the world to me.”

“You used the l-word,” she commented. Bucky found it cute that she couldn’t say love. 

“Yeah I wasn’t planning on saying that, but it’s true. I do love you.” He ran his thumb up and down the back of her hand. She was quiet again, thinking through her response. She never took this long to respond, usually she went with whatever popped into her head. Bucky took her hand and placed it to his chest. “Do you feel that? How fast my heart is beating? It gets like that every time I’m around you. And my stomach always feels like there’s a million butterflies fluttering around in there. You do that to me.”

“I love you too.” It fell off her lips so easily, Bucky thought he must have misheard. 

“You do?” he asked in disbelief. She bit her bottom lip and shyly nodded her head, trying to hide the smile on her lips. He lost control. He lunged at her, essentially tackling her down onto the blanket as he squeezed her into a tight hug. When he pulled away ever so slightly, his face hovered above hers. 

“Are you gonna let me kiss you?” he asked. She simply nodded and his lips were on hers, making up for their lost time. It almost scared her, how easily she fell back into the kiss. Her hand found his jaw as she held him close, not wanting him to leave her vicinity. This was the moment she’d been waiting for and it didn’t disappoint. The spark was there, the longing was there, the love was there. And in that moment she knew that she never wanted to be without him.

They kissed and cuddled for a while and then they sat there together and watched the sunset. Y/N leaned back into Bucky’s arms as he kept her warm from the crisp autumn air. They talked about nothing and everything, trying to catch up on the weeks they had missed. And in that moment she knew she would never grow tired of this. He had somehow managed to thaw her frozen exterior and taught her that love was worth the risk of pain. 

As it started to get darker, they packed up their spot on the beach and headed back to the boardwalk. She knew she wasn’t leaving his side tonight. She’d spent too much time away from him and she wasn’t ready to separate just yet.

“Keys please,” she said, holding out her hand. 

“Oh are you driving?” he asked skeptically.

“Well yeah, it is my car now,” she replied easily.

Bucky leaned his head back, “Of course, how could I forget.” He placed the keys in her open hand, before wrapping his strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her in close to kiss her temple.