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indecisivemuch · 1 year ago

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Lovesick & Lovelorn

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You thought that Luke Castellan, your best friend, did not reciprocate your feelings for him. To cope, you wrote letters addressed to him and kept them in a box. What happens when one of your sisters finds it? Inspired by 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' (fluff, best friends to lovers; you thought it was unreciprocated feelings, happy ending).

Note: Ahh, I'm so happy the show got renewed for season 2.

Word count: 3.3k

You were deeply convinced your fate was tied to one with eternal lovelorn.

Three years ago, you arrived at Camp Half-Blood and settled into the Hermes cabin before you were claimed by your Godly parent. It was there that you met Luke Castellan - one of your soon-to-be best friends. Though, you knew you were doomed from your first glance into his eyes. Then came his friendly smile and an offer of a handshake, where his hand engulfed yours.

At first, you thought that silly little crush would dissipate. But over time, as you became close friends with the Hermes cabin counselor, you were almost convinced he was faultless. You seemed to adore every little thing about him. Along with the fondness that grew in your heart was also self-pity. At one point, even looking at him hurt because you knew he did not return your feelings.

Hence, the letters.

In between your memories of Luke were letters you wrote throughout those years just to cope with the unreciprocated feeling. It was painful, but what else could you do? You truly believed confessing would put your friendship at risk. Neither did you feel like dealing with the heartache of a rejection. So you never uttered any of your feelings to him, continuing to imprint it on lined papers instead.

You scowled as the pen you were using ran out of ink, leaving the latest edition of unspoken words unfinished. Wordlessly, you fold the incomplete letter into an envelope and shove it into the turquoise box you bought while returning from a quest once. You neatly put the box under your bed.

“Y/N, it’s time to head out,” one of your sisters repeated. Two minutes ago, people were starting to leave, so those on cleaning duties could clean up your cabin. Since you were mid-writing, you hastily asked for a few more seconds. Now, you were the only one left besides two of your sisters.

“Yes, sorry,” you quickly muttered, exiting the cabin and almost immediately bumped into Luke. “Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m here for you. I thought we should hang out,” Luke answered ever so casually. Yet, your heart swelled at the thought that he was there for you. Before you could reply, you two were interrupted by another camper, who told you that one of your other best friends needed you and that it was an emergency.

“I’m so sorry, we’re gonna have to take a rain check on that hangout,” you informed Luke. You slowly started walking backward and away from him. “I’ll see you later, though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Come find me whenever you’re done, yeah?” Luke requested, hoping to spend time with you later. His soft look made you pause mid-step, almost as if your foot had been cemented to the stones beneath. You nodded absentmindedly before snapping out of that state to comfort your friend.

After two hours of listening to your friend and comforting them, you finally left their cabin to search for Luke, who previously told you to find him after. However, around half an hour later, you slowly gave up at the thought of doing so, feeling almost defeated.

As you turned to head back to your cabin, you spotted the Hermes counselor exiting his. You called out his name, watching his back stiffen before he turned to you. You ignored the odd behavior and recalled, “I’m free now if you’re down to hang out.”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m really busy right now.”

“Uhm, well, I guess I’ll just meet you at our spot whenever you’re done then?” you suggested. You and Luke fell into a routine of star-gazing every night.

Laying under the dark sky that painted your whole horizon often made you feel small. But something about that was so calming, especially considering most of the time, you were suffocated by the weight and duties of being a Demigod. You wondered if it was the moment or if it was Luke’ presence that aided your momentary peace.

“I really, really can’t tonight, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Oh… that’s okay. I’ll see you around?” you replied, watching as Luke fidgeted and gulped while attempting to look normal. It was futile, really, because being best friends meant you could sense when the slightest thing was even off. He nodded, and you retreated to your cabin with thoughts swirling in your head.

Then came the next few torturous and confusing days. For the last two years, Luke would always approach you - almost daily, and vice versa. Being best friends with Luke has been wonderful. Every day together felt like a blessing.

Now, it seemed almost like he was avoiding you. He would find a new excuse whenever you approached. He wouldn’t even look in your direction. Yesterday, you made eye contact with him, and he turned away abruptly, facing his back towards you.

You had enough after day three. You went to your cabin after dinner and reached under your bed with one hand. You did not want to, but this would perhaps be your first-ever letter of anguish about Luke Castellan.

The box…where is the box?

You peered under your bed, mouth hanging open when your eyes could not spot it either. You looked up and around, hoping maybe you had misplaced it somewhere, even though part of you knew you had put it under your bed. You have always done so.

“Hey, have you seen a turquoise box?” you asked your sister as she walked by.

“Oh, the rectangle one, about this big?” your sister reconfirmed, using her hand to show you the size she indicated.

“Yes, that one.”

“Oh, I gave it to Luke.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I was cleaning the cabin three days ago, accidentally knocked it over and saw letters addressed to him. He was right by the door, so I thought maybe I should just deliver them to him.”

Blood drained from your face, and your heart plummeted. Anything else your sister seemed to be talking about started sounding like murmurs, and you could not focus on a word she was saying. Your worst nightmare seemed to have arrived. Somehow, your friendship with him had ended without you knowing. No wonder he has been avoiding you these past few days. He has read them all.

“I need to go,” you quickly muttered, storming out of your cabin. You could feel your body slightly shaking from the panic. No amount of Demigod training had prepared you for moments like these. Then you saw Luke walking over you…with the box in his hands. You took a deep breath and practically forced your voice box to work.

“Listen, Luke—”

“I didn’t think you’d buy birthday gifts that early, Y/N,” he interrupted.

“What?” you questioned and observed the sweet smile gracing his Adonis-like face.

“This?” he gestured to the box. “Your sister gave it to me and said it was from you. Though I thought I should give it back ‘cause it’s not my birthday yet, you might have wanted to give it to me yourself.”

“Oh…” it was the only thing you could utter as it dawned on you what he had perceived the situation as. “Wait, so you haven’t opened it?” you clarified.

“Nope.”

“...So we’re ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. As you scrunch your eyebrows, you could see how his fingers fidget somewhat, almost as if he could tell you would bring his odd behavior up.

“You’ve been acting really odd the last few days, Luke. It had me worried. I thought I did something wrong. It seems like you were avoiding me.”

“I was just really busy with counselor duties,” he dismissed it. However, something about it made you a bit hesitant to believe his words. You did it anyway, nevertheless. You blamed it on your stupid heart.

“Yeah, but—” you stopped, not wanting to stir anything. “Ok then, I’m going to put this away, but I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe we can finally not rain check again?” You hated how hopeful you sounded. You’re glad that the sun had set a few minutes ago, blessing you with enough degree of darkness to hide your facial expressions from being as evident as they would be in daylight.

“Of course, I’ll see you later, Y/N,” despite the dark and only dim lights from nearby, you noticed there was something different about him. Luke was wearing a nervous smile, almost sheepish like a schoolboy. There was a glimmer of amazement in his eyes like he was in disbelief. Though it was definitely overpowered by a glaring degree of warmth. He was looking at you like all those writers have written down in the books you have read before - something along the lines of adoration and love.

You shook those thoughts away again, refusing to somehow fool yourself into believing he could reciprocate those feelings.

“Yeah, see you,” you muttered, hand gripping tightly on the box as you took it from his hold. As soon as you reached your cabin, you opened the box to peer inside. You immediately sighed in relief upon seeing the copious amount of letters with your handwriting on them, all with Luke’s name on the front.

However, your eyes landed on one unfamiliar one. It had your name on it, written in a familiar wonky handwriting that you have always found endearing.

You sat on your bed, taking the letter out delicately, almost in disbelief. Then, dread overtook any other emotion. Was this Luke’s way of letting you down easy? By pretending to not have read any of your letters and rejecting you through the form that you express your love to him? — you had to physically shake your head at that thought.

You took the letter out of its envelope and started reading:

‘Dear Y/N,

This is probably the 40th time I tried writing this letter. It feels impossible to try and convey everything onto one piece of paper.

You deserve someone to at least view you as their muse rather than always being the writer.

Hence why, for the past few days, I had to physically drag myself away from you every time you tried approaching me because I knew if I didn’t, I would just end up spilling my feelings out right then. I knew if I even looked at you, I would have just abandoned this letter idea and run to you. You should have seen me yesterday. When we made eye contact, I had to turn away from you because having the knowledge of you liking me back was enough to knock all the air out of my lungs. I was a flustered mess from just that eye contact.

I doubt my words could rival what you have written about me. You once wrote how it hurts to love someone this much and to always be the poet but never the poem. Well, I’d like to thank you for making me your poems. However, now it is your turn. Allow me to be your poet.

You occupy my mind like it’s your castle. If I had to name everything I love about you, this letter would never end. But for starters, here are some of the first times:

The first time Chiron introduced you to the Hermes cabin, I could not take my eyes off you. Chris had to nudge me away. Just from that alone, a part of me knew I was in trouble. I think I came to the conclusion that I did not want to hold anybody else’s hand after just shaking yours.

2.5 years back during a campfire in June, even when the fire had died and the air grew cold, our voices still filled the air. Conversations just flow when I am with you. I remember never wanting that moment to end. Then you started talking about constellations and told me about the ones above us. Right there and then was the first time I had the urge to kiss you, and to show you that I was just as obsessed with you as you were with stars.

The first time I realized I was in love with you was while coming back from a quest 2 years ago. I remember feeling so numb coming back. The world almost seemed monotone, and I wondered for a second, what if I had made one wrong move? Just as I returned to camp, you bolted and hugged me. Somehow, it felt like I had just taken my first bit of fresh air after drowning for so long. I vividly recall shutting my eyes as I hugged you back because I felt like I was finally home. I remember never wanting to be away or out of your hold as others approached and rushed to get me into the infirmary for checkups.

It was only when I was lying on the infirmary bed that it hit me like a train that lost control. A large proportion of why I fought so hard was to come back to you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, and my place of solace and peace. Then came the realization that I was in love with you. I remember everybody else’s voice drowning out as I focused on that thought. It was strangely calming, as if my heart had known all along but was waiting for my head to catch up. Then I remember just smiling as I looked at the ceiling, unafraid of the new feeling.

Last year, the day we went on a quest together lapsed with Valentine’s Day. Every moment felt extra sweet. Us sitting on the train, staring outside the window together like a couple going on a trip. My mind savoured the small things like you falling asleep on my shoulder with my coat around you and us holding hands as we walked through the crowd to not get lost among couples - which I like to imagine that others had thought we were one as well. It was the first time I allowed myself to pretend this is how it would feel like if you were mine and how our lives together would be if we were not Demigods.

I thought for sure you would have realized something by the way I was staring and acting around you that I was irrevocably in love with you. After reading your letters, I realized that you did see it. But you refused to believe that I could ever be in love with you. Well, I hope my letters will reverse all your doubts, because Y/N, it is so easy to fall in love with you.

In fact, the world I built up in my head during last year’s quest had consumed my thoughts enough to make me frown at the idea of returning to camp, where it would not just be the two of us anymore. Loving you has never been something I was afraid of. Loving you has been an honour every single day, even if you never knew of it.

It’s also somewhat funny that I was heavily lovesick while you were lovelorn. But I promise, Y/N, that from this second on, I intend to make you know that you are loved and that I am so deeply in love with you.

Again, I never intended for you to wait for three days, but I ended up throwing away every letter I started because I felt like none had suffice. I didn’t want to mess it up and give you something less than you deserved. I wanted to do something nice for you. I promise I’ll make it up for those three days if you allow me to. But one chance is all I need.

If you are willing to give me that chance, you know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Luke Castellan’

Upon reading his last words, you immediately left your cabin with the letter in hand. You jogged to the spot where the two of you would always meet to stargaze together. Almost instantly, you saw his tall figure under the moonlight. As if he could sense your presence, the Hermes boy turned around and gave you a sweet smile.

“You meant it?” you asked as you raised the letter up, slowly approaching him.

“Every single word, including all the unspoken ones I intend on telling you from now on,” the way he said it felt like he was swearing it on his own heart. “In fact, I would have written more down, but I knew I was keeping you waiting for too long,” he explained as you stopped right before him.

Something about this moment felt cathartic. Three years of dancing around unspoken words and yearning led to this moment. Luke grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckle. You peered up at him, and it was then that you finally accepted what his looks meant: he was in love with you, and there was no doubt about that. There was no more denial on your end that Luke Castellan was enamored with you.

“Will you let me be your poet, Y/N?” he breathlessly referenced the words you and him had both previously written like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime.

“Of course,” you answered almost without hesitation, watching his eyes soften even more, if possible.

“Is it ok if I ask you another question?” he asked again, his other hand caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” Your face flushed as you saw his brown eyes dart to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t say anything. You’ve written down way too many words in the past three years. You decided actions would speak louder in this case. So you pulled Luke down by his camp necklace, hands gripping the beads on it as you tiptoed up to reach his lips.

Luke physically melted as he brought one hand to your waist to hold you up as he leaned down from the height difference. Everything Luke had imagined before could not match the kiss he was finally sharing with you - the kiss that seemed to seal his lips into a spell that would forever leave them unable to belong to anyone else. It felt like heaven and hell combined because he knew that this was going to ruin him forever, and every second he spent with his eyes shut would be one where he had this feeling and moment sown behind his eyelids.

You had the same line of thoughts. The wait was long, but you felt like it was worth it. Under the stars, you may feel small. But standing there next to Luke, you finally realize it doesn’t matter. Because he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You were his sun, moon, and everything in between - no constellations could ever measure to you.

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writingbuckets · 1 month ago

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𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

paige bueckers x reader

wc: 6.8k

synopsis: Y/N and Paige Bueckers are caught in a tense moment after Paige’s jealousy and neglect come to a head. With emotions running high, both struggle to navigate their complicated feelings, forcing them to confront the future of their relationship.

warnings: angst, jealousy, explicit sexual content, slight manipulation, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, slight violence (physical restraint)

a/n: i present to you... jealous paige bc this is one of my favorite tropes literally ever! this was 16 pages on google docs so i apologize for that, gonna go through all my posts and add warnings to them so i shall see you later <3

You’re sprawled out on your bed, limbs heavy against the soft blanket, phone clutched in one hand. The screen casts a faint glow in the dim room, illuminating the furrow of frustration etched into your brow. Your thumb idly scrolls through your message thread with Paige—a barren wasteland of unanswered texts. Each message feels like a tiny stone dropped into the pit of your stomach, adding to the growing weight.

Monday

Hey, how’d practice go? You alive?

Wednesday

I know you’re busy, but can we talk soon? Paige?

Friday

Cool. Guess I’ll take the hint.

You sigh heavily, locking your phone and tossing it onto the bed beside you. The device bounces slightly before settling face down, but your mind refuses to let it go. A sharp buzz suddenly cuts through the silence, jolting your heart into a sprint. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers. You snatch up the phone, only for disappointment to flood in when Jasmine’s name lights up the screen instead.

You swipe to answer, switching to speaker and tossing it back on the bed. “What’s up, Jas?” you say, your tone flat and lacking its usual warmth.

“Clearly not you,” Jasmine replies, her voice teasing but tinged with concern. “You sound like someone kicked your puppy. Is this about Paige again?”

You pause, chewing on your bottom lip, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.

“She’s been ghosting me all week,” you finally admit, bitterness seeping into your voice like a slow drip. “I get that basketball keeps her busy, but is it really that hard to send one text? Like, ‘Hey, sorry, can’t talk right now’? That’s all I’m asking. It’s not rocket science.”

Jasmine’s incredulous tone comes through loud and clear. “Wait. She hasn’t responded at all? Not even a quick ‘Hey, I’m swamped’?”

“Not a word,” you reply, the edge in your voice sharpening. “Meanwhile, she’s out here talking about how much she likes me and how she wants to make things work. For what? So I can sit here, feeling like a damn afterthought, while she… I don’t even know what she’s doing anymore.”

“You deserve so much better,” Jasmine says firmly, her voice a grounding presence.

“Tell me about it,” you mutter, picking up your phone again despite yourself. It’s a reflex, a bad habit you can’t seem to break. You open Instagram, swiping through stories without purpose, when something stops you cold.

KK’s latest post dominates the screen. It’s a picture of the team crammed into a booth at Ted’s, smiles wide and carefree. Paige is smack in the middle, holding up Dirty Shirley, her grin so effortless it’s like she hasn’t ignored a single text in her life. She looks happy. Relaxed. Completely unbothered.

The caption reads: “Dubs only, baby! Turnt up with the squad 🏀.”

Your grip on the phone tightens as heat rises to your cheeks. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. So, she has time for this? Time to party, to hang out with her team, to go to Ted’s of all places—your spot—but can’t find two seconds to acknowledge you?

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, the words simmering with anger.

“What happened?” Jasmine’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“She’s at Ted’s,” you say through gritted teeth. “With the team. Laughing, drinking, looking like life is perfect while I’m over here wondering if she fell off the face of the Earth.”

“Oh, hell no,” Jasmine says, her indignation matching your own. “She thinks she can ignore you and get away with it? Nope. Get up, put on your hottest outfit, and remind her who the hell you are.”

You sit up, heart pounding as the idea takes root. Your glare is fixed on KK’s post, as if staring at it hard enough might erase the image entirely. Locking your phone, you toss it onto the bed before swinging your legs over the side.

“You know what?” you say, your voice steady and laced with resolve. “Maybe I will.”

The moment you’ve had enough, something shifts inside you—like a fire being reignited. The frustration that’s been simmering all evening finally boils over, and you grab your phone with newfound determination. Sitting upright on your bed, you unlock the screen, your fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced ease.

Y’all down for Ted’s tonight? Need backup.

The message is direct, no frills. This isn’t just a night out—it’s a mission.

Jasmine’s reply comes almost instantly, as if she’s been waiting for an excuse to hit the town. Say less. On my way in 20. Her energy is palpable even through a text.

Seconds later, Veronica chimes in: I’m in. Let’s cause some trouble. Her signature wink emoji follows, and you can’t help but smirk.

Finally, Serena’s response lights up your screen with a single word: Bet. Short, sweet, and packed with confidence.

With your friends locked in, you toss your phone onto the bed and head straight to your closet. It’s time to make a statement—one that’s impossible to ignore. You stand in front of your wardrobe, fingers brushing over hangers as you mentally critique each option. Too casual. Too plain. Too predictable.

After what feels like an eternity, your hand lands on the one. It’s bold, sleek, and undeniably sexy—a figure-hugging dress that accentuates all the right places and practically demands attention. You pull it off the hanger, holding it up in front of the mirror. The deep color complements your skin perfectly, and the hem does the absolute minimum in covering the bottom of your ass.

You slip into it carefully, smoothing the fabric over your body and adjusting it until it fits like a second skin. Taking a step back, you examine yourself in the mirror, tilting your head as a small smile plays on your lips. You look good. No—scratch that. You look amazing. But tonight, looking amazing isn’t enough. You want to turn heads. You want Paige to feel it.

Not done yet, you move to your vanity, flipping on the lights. Your makeup bag sits waiting, and you dive in with practiced precision. First, a flawless base, smooth and glowing, like your skin was kissed by the perfect Instagram filter. You follow with a contour that defines your features, giving you a sharp, sculpted look. Then comes the winged liner, bold and dramatic, with a flick so precise it could cut glass. Smokey eyeshadow enhances the look, making your gaze impossible to ignore, and a high-shine gloss adds the perfect finishing touch to your lips.

You lean back, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror. Every detail is on point, down to the faint shimmer of highlighter catching the light on your cheekbones. It’s flawless, if you do say so yourself.

As you’re spritzing on your favorite perfume—a scent both intoxicating and unforgettable—your phone buzzes again. Jasmine’s text reads: Outside. Let’s do this.

You slip on your favorite pair of chunky, heeled boots, the ones that make you feel like you own every room you walk into, and grab your bag. The rhythmic click of your heels on the pavement mirrors your determination as you stride out to Jasmine’s car.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you’re met with a low whistle from Jasmine. “Damn, girl,” she says, giving you an approving once-over. “Are you trying to destroy someone tonight?”

You smirk as you buckle your seatbelt, tossing your bag onto your lap. “Not destroy. Just remind a certain someone what she’s about to lose.”

Jasmine’s laugh fills the car as she reaches over for a fist bump. “Now that is the energy I needed. She won’t know what hit her.”

The ride to Ted’s feels electric. The bass of the music pulses through the car, a perfect soundtrack to your rising confidence. Jasmine keeps hyping you up the whole way, stealing glances at you every so often.

“You look so good, you’re probably going to start a fight,” she teases with a grin.

You meet her eyes with a smirk, adjusting a strand of hair in the mirror. “Good,” you say, your voice dripping with confidence. “Let her be mad. She’s got it coming.”

Jasmine’s laughter rings out, blending with the music as the two of you pull into the crowded parking lot. The neon sign for Ted’s glows against the night sky, and the hum of voices and laughter spills out into the cool evening air.

You step out of the car with purpose, adjusting your outfit one last time as your heels click against the asphalt. One final glance in the car’s side mirror confirms what you already know: you’re a vision, and tonight, you’re a force to be reckoned with.

Ted’s won’t know what hit it. And neither will Paige.

The low buzz of voices and the faint clinking of glasses hit you the moment you step into Ted’s. The warm glow of string lights overhead bathes the packed bar in a golden hue, and the energy in the room is palpable—loud laughter, animated conversations, and the occasional cheer erupting from the direction of the pool table. Your heels click against the floor as you make your way in with Jasmine, Veronica, and Serena flanking you like a well-coordinated squad.

It doesn’t take long to spot her. Paige is exactly where you expected, seated in a large booth near the back with Azzi, KK, Ice, and Jana. She’s dressed casually, black denim shorts, a black crop top, and an unbuttoned, white shirt, but she might as well be wearing a neon sign with the way she draws attention. She’s laughing, leaning back with her arm draped casually over the seat, completely at ease. You can see the sparkle in her eyes from here, even as she remains blissfully unaware of your presence.

The sight makes your stomach twist, but you shake it off. Tonight isn’t about Paige. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Let’s hit the bar,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you lead your friends in the opposite direction, deliberately ignoring the booth and the person in it.

The bartender greets you with a smile, and you order a couple rounds of shots for your group, letting Jasmine and the others hype you up as you throw them back the second they’re placed in front of you. Once you feel enough of a buzz to quell your anxiety, you decide to settle for a mixed drink to sip on for the remainder of the night. It isn’t long before you notice someone approaching, a tall, athletic-looking girl with broad shoulders and an easy grin. She’s wearing a fitted T-shirt and jeans, and the confidence in her stride is unmistakable.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the bar. Her voice is low, smooth. “You look like you’re having more fun than anyone else here.”

You flash her a smile, tilting your head slightly. “You could say that.”

Her grin widens, and she introduces herself, launching into a conversation that you quickly match. Her compliments come freely—your outfit, your laugh, even the way you carry yourself—and you don’t hold back, laughing a little louder than usual and letting your fingers brush against her arm as you talk.

Across the booth, KK nudges Paige, a look of concern flickering across her face. “Uh, hey, isn’t that Y/N?” she says, nodding toward the bar.

Paige’s head snaps toward KK, her expression darkening as she follows her teammate’s line of sight. Her brows knit together as she takes in the scene—your effortless smile, the way you lean into the girl’s space, her hand resting on the bar just a little too close to yours. She recognizes the look in your eyes, it’s the same look she was on the receiving end of the first night you met.

“Yeah,” Paige says shortly, her voice clipped. She sets her drink down with more force than necessary, her grip tightening around the glass before she looks away.

Meanwhile, you pretend not to notice the silent storm brewing across the room. You keep your focus on the girl in front of you, leaning in just enough to keep the conversation flowing, though you can feel the heat of Paige’s jealousy from where you stand. It sends a thrill through you, equal parts satisfaction and spite.

As the girl laughs at something you’ve said, you turn your head to the side slightly, trying to catch a glance at the booth where Paige sits. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her tense, her hand balling into a fist on the table as she murmurs something to Azzi.

You can feel it in the air, Paige is reaching her breaking point. And that’s exactly what you wanted.

Paige sits stiffly in the booth, her grip on her drink tightening as her knuckles blanch. Her jaw works furiously, muscles twitching as if she’s holding back an eruption. The sound of your laugh, airy and effortless, cuts through the din of the bar, and Paige’s eyes flicker with barely concealed rage. Her teammates exchange uneasy glances, sensing the storm brewing beside them.

Azzi nudges KK and leans in. “Uh, is she okay?”

KK shrugs, her voice low. “I don’t think so.”

Paige suddenly stands, her movements sharp and deliberate. The scrape of her chair against the floor draws their attention.

“Where are you going?” Azzi asks, concern softening her voice.

Paige doesn’t look at her, her gaze fixed like a laser on you across the room. “I’ll be back,” she mutters, her voice clipped.

She doesn’t wait for a response, weaving through the crowd with purpose. Her steps are quick, her shoulders tight, and her eyes never leave you. You’re at the bar, leaning casually against the counter, completely absorbed in your conversation with the tall, athletic-looking girl beside you. The girl leans in close, her hand grazing your arm as she says something that makes you throw your head back with a laugh.

Paige’s chest tightens, and the corners of her vision blur with the heat of her jealousy. Each second feels like an eternity as she closes the distance, her blood boiling at the sight of the stranger getting a little too comfortable with you.

When she reaches you, she doesn’t pause to think. Her arm snakes around your waist in one swift motion, pulling you firmly against her side. The sudden contact makes you gasp, your conversation abruptly cut off. The flirty girl takes a step back, startled and clearly intimidated by Paige’s possessive presence.

“We’re leaving,” Paige says, her tone low and commanding. Her words are sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air.

You turn your head sharply, blinking in surprise as your eyes meet hers. The fire in her gaze burns so brightly it could scorch you, but you’re too stubborn to back down. “Now you have time to talk to me?” you ask, drawing the sentence out with deliberate sarcasm. “I think I’m fine right here.”

Paige’s jaw ticks, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, her arm tightens around your waist, her fingers pressing firmly into your side. It’s a silent warning, one you choose to ignore as you plant your feet against her attempts to steer you toward the door.

“Paige, what the hell?” you protest, your voice rising with irritation.

“Not here,” she snaps, her tone cold and final. Her grip remains unrelenting as she continues to lead you away from the bar.

Your friends notice the commotion, Jasmine standing halfway out of her seat. “Y/N, are you good?” she calls, her brows furrowed with concern.

You twist in Paige’s hold just enough to look back at them, throwing a hand up in a dismissive wave. “I’ll text you!” you shout over your shoulder, your voice dripping with frustration.

Paige doesn’t slow her pace until the two of you are outside, the cool night air biting at your skin. She releases you near her car, and you immediately step back, glaring at her.

“Seriously, Paige?” you snap, your voice sharp as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think you can just show up, ruin my night, and drag me out like this?”

Paige’s nostrils flare as she turns to face you fully, her expression thunderous. “I think I just did.”

Eventually you arrive at her apartment, and she has to practically pull you out of her car by your arm. The second you step into Paige’s entryway, you rip your arm out of her grip with enough force to make her stumble slightly. You spin around to face her, your chest heaving with frustration. The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the space like a gunshot.

“What the hell is your problem, Paige?” you shout, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Your words are sharp, fueled by anger that’s been simmering for days.

Paige whirls around to face you, her face already twisted in fury. “My problem?” she fires back, her voice rising to match yours, letting out a humorless chuckle. “You’re out there all over some random girl, and you’re asking me what my problem is?”

You take a step closer, refusing to back down. “Yeah, I am! Because you ignore me all week, and the second I talk to someone else, you suddenly care? Make it make sense, Paige!”

She runs both hands through her hair, pacing in jerky, frustrated strides between the door and the counter. “Do you know how insane it made me to see you with her?” she snaps, her words laced with raw, unfiltered emotion. “Laughing, touching her, looking like you were having the time of your life? Like I didn’t even exist?”

You laugh bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless as you cross your arms over your chest. “That’s rich, Paige. At least she actually talked to me, which is more than I’ve gotten from you in weeks.”

The room feels charged, every word hanging heavy in the air, but Paige isn’t done. She steps forward again, her voice low and rough with frustration. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t want to talk to you? You’re all over her, touching her like it doesn’t matter, and it’s driving me crazy—"

“Gee, sounds like you finally get it,” you fire back, your words sharp with bitterness. “But hey, don’t worry, I’ll stop talking to people if it’ll make you feel better. Maybe next time, I’ll just sit in the corner and wait for you to remember I’m here, like some sad little backup plan.”

You turn your head, preparing to walk out, but before you can take a single step, Paige’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist with a force that stops you in your tracks. Your heart pounds in your chest as you turn to face her, ready to throw another snarky remark her way.

But before you can speak, she’s there, bringing her hands to grab both sides of your face, her lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes you by surprise. You freeze for a split second, then instinct kicks in. You try to pull away, pushing against her chest with as much force as you can muster.

But she doesn’t let up. Her kiss deepens, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. The anger you’ve been carrying fades, replaced with confusion and something else you can’t quite name. You can feel her tension, her frustration, her need for something—maybe an answer, maybe redemption.

She slides one of her hands down to anchor around the front of your throat, her other hand drifting to grab at your hip through the thin material of your dress. She slowly starts to back you towards her kitchen, not stopping until the top of your ass is pressing against the island counter. She brings both hands to your hips, tapping the side of your ass with one hand, encouraging you to jump, and roughly squeezing your hip with the other.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as she lifts you effortlessly onto the cool marble countertop. Her hands slide possessively up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. She steps forward, wedging herself between your parted legs.

"You look so fucking good in this dress," she says, her voice low and thick with desire. One hand slips under the fabric to caress the bare skin of your hip while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat.

She dips her head, warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin before her lips press against your racing pulse. Your back arches as she nips at the delicate skin, soothing the pinch with her tongue and surely leaving a mark. A breathy moan fills the air and it takes you a moment to realize it came from you.

Her lips trail lower, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You shiver as her tongue flicks out to taste your skin. The hand on your hip slides inward, fingertips skimming teasingly along the inside of your thigh.

You wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her in closer, desperate for more contact. She chuckles darkly against your throat, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing down your spine. "I love it when you get like this," she murmurs approvingly. "All desperate and needy."

To punctuate her point, she rolls her hips, grinding against your center. The pressure and friction draw a keening whimper from your lips. Your hands fly up to grip her strong shoulders, nails digging into taut muscle through her shirt.

Her lips glide over your skin, a delicate yet fervent touch, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. As she moves up from your jawline, each kiss ignites a spark, and her breath, hot and teasing, touches your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. "I've been thinking about having you like this all night," she murmurs.

You whimper as her hands skim higher, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric. She captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

She reaches up to pull your dress down, revealing your bare breasts. Her lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, sucking and biting it gently. You arch into her touch, a moan escaping your parted lips as she places full attention on the sensitive bud. Her tongue flicks and swirls, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Her other hand palms your neglected breast, kneading the supple flesh. She rolls the pebbled nipple between her fingers, pinching and tugging in time with the ministrations of her mouth, each pull sending another rush of heat flooding your body.

"So pretty, baby," she says, the words vibrating against your skin. She gives your nipple one last hard suck before trailing her lips across your chest to the other breast, circling her tongue around the straining peak. Her mouth is relentless, her tongue swirling and flicking over your nipple until it’s aching, her teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Her free hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You’re already wet, your panties soaked through, and she groans against your skin as her fingers brush over the damp fabric.

Your head falls back as you cry out, hands fisting in her silky hair to hold her close. She smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the reactions she's pulling from your trembling body. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing your body closer to hers as you desperately seek more of her touch, the sound of her soft chuckle making you shudder with pleasure.

"Patience," she whispers, the word barely audible as her fingers trace lazy circles around your clit through the lace of your underwear. The sensation is frustrating, and you can't help but whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily in search of more contact.

You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body responding to her touch in ways you never thought possible. You already know she's jealous, you saw the way she looked at you earlier when you were talking to that other girl. But you can't help but feel thrilled at the way she's touching you now, as if she's trying to claim you as her own.

You lean back on your hands, your eyes locked on Paige's as she continues to tease you. Her gaze is intense, fiery, and you can see the possessiveness in her eyes. It sends a thrill down your spine, making you even more turned on.

"You're mine," Paige murmurs, her voice low and husky, filled with an undeniable possessiveness. The words send a thrill throughout your body, making your heart race with excitement. “Say it.”

"I'm yours," you whisper back, your voice barely audible as the tension builds within you. You can feel the pressure growing more and more intense, your body aching for release.

Paige's fingers finally slip under the waistband of your underwear, making contact with your sensitive skin. The feeling is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly as she begins to stroke you. Her touch is firm and confident, her fingers expertly finding your most sensitive spots.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm, your body trembling with anticipation. Paige's gaze is locked on yours, her eyes filled with a fierce intensity that makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "Come for me, baby."

And with those words, you finally let go, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out her name. Paige holds you close, her fingers still moving rhythmically as you ride out your orgasm. As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Paige pulls her fingers away from your clit.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Paige is on you again. She moves with a speed and agility that takes you by surprise, pushing your back onto the counter with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your body splayed out beneath her, you feel a thrill of excitement run through you. You're completely at her mercy, and the thought is intoxicating. Paige's hand makes its way back to your throat, her grip firm and unyielding. She pins you to the counter by your throat, her body pressing against yours as she holds you in place.

You gasp at the sudden change in position, your heart racing with a combination of fear and excitement. The feeling of being completely dominated by Paige is both terrifying and exhilarating, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Paige's other hand slides back between your legs, her fingers finding your entrance with ease. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing moment, your body responding instinctually to her touch. She finds your g-spot easily, her fingers curling and pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure. You moan softly, your hips bucking as she begins to stroke you, her movements slow and deliberate at first, before building up to a feverish pace.

But she’s not content with just bringing you to orgasm. She wants to claim you, to mark you as hers in every way possible. And as she continues to finger you, her grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, you know that you're completely and utterly hers.

Paige's movements become more insistent, her fingers moving faster and harder as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink of another orgasm, your body writhing and bucking beneath her touch. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as she continues, her movements growing more frantic as she feels your body starting to give in to the pleasure. “Paige, I can’t… it’s too much.”

“Nah, baby, I’ve been so mean to you this week, I just wanna make it up to you.” You moan louder now, your voice echoing through the room as Paige brings you to new heights of pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending sparking with pleasure. “C’mon, I know you can take it.”

And then, with one final stroke, you reach the peak of your orgasm, your body convulsing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Paige's fingers continue to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm and sending you spiraling into new heights of ecstasy. When it's all over, you collapse back onto the counter, your body spent and satisfied. Paige pulls her fingers away, a satisfied smirk on her face as she looks down at you, bringing her fingers to her mouth to suck at the remnants of your orgasm.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended, though the heat in your cheeks betrays your embarrassment. You quickly move to fix your dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious now that the moment is over.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Paige replies, her voice steady but softer than usual. Still, her gaze doesn’t waver, her blue eyes fixed on you.

The silence in the apartment feels suffocating, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. The distant hum of the refrigerator is the only sound, an almost mocking contrast to the charged tension between you. Sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, you swing your legs idly, trying to feign a casualness you don’t feel. The cool surface beneath you does little to soothe the heat creeping up your neck as Paige stands in front of you, close enough that her presence seems to fill the room.

When you finally look at her, expecting that same smug, self-satisfied smirk she’s perfected, you’re caught off guard. Her expression isn’t cocky; it’s something else entirely. The spark of amusement is gone, replaced by something heavier, something raw. Her blue eyes hold yours, steady and searching, as if she’s trying to find the words buried somewhere between you.

Paige shifts slightly, her hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. She takes a breath, her chest rising and falling in a way that betrays the steady confidence she usually exudes. For a split second, it feels like the world narrows down to just this moment, just the two of you.

Her voice finally breaks the silence, low and uncharacteristically serious. “You know we need to talk about everything.”

The words hang between you, heavy and undeniable. Her tone is firm but carries a vulnerability that makes your stomach twist. She’s not brushing this off or dancing around it like you half-expected. No teasing grin, no playful deflection—just a directness that makes it impossible to pretend this is something you can both walk away from unscathed.

Paige shifts her weight slightly, standing even closer now, the space between your legs shrinking until there’s barely any left. The warmth of her body radiates against you, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of every inch of space she occupies. Her eyes don’t leave yours, and you can tell she’s waiting, giving you the chance to push her away—or pull her closer.

But the way she looks at you, so open and unguarded, makes it hard to do either. It’s a stark contrast to the Paige who had been ignoring your texts all week, and yet, it feels so achingly familiar. You’re torn between wanting to stay guarded and giving in to the pull of the moment. Finally, you arch an eyebrow, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions threatening to surface.

“Okay,” you say, your tone more challenging than you intended. “Start talking.”

Paige’s shoulders stiffen, and for a second, you think she might retreat into that wall of stoicism she hides behind so well. But then her jaw tightens, and she steps even closer, her closeness making your nervousness spike, but you don’t flinch, meeting her gaze head-on.

“I can’t stand seeing you with someone else,” she says, her words thick with frustration. “I don’t want you flirting, laughing, or even looking at anyone but me. I want you, Y/N. Only you. I want us to be exclusive. I’ll do better. Just… don’t ever do that again.”

Your breath catches, and you almost flinch at how accurately her words cut to the truth. Still, you say nothing, giving her the space to continue.

“I messed up,” she begins, her voice quiet but deliberate. “I know I’ve been distant. I know I’ve made you feel like you’re not important to me, like basketball or… anything else in my life comes before you.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to maintain your composure, the snarky defense you’ve built up around yourself threatening to crack. You cross your arms, fighting to keep the sarcasm in your voice, even though your insides are a tangled mess of emotions.

“Exclusive, huh?” you challenge, your voice sharp, almost taunting, as you raise an eyebrow. Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between you and the vulnerability she’s suddenly laying at your feet. “And what happens when basketball gets in the way again? When I’m just another item on your to-do list?”

Paige flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The slight crack in her usually unshakable confidence stirs something in you—satisfaction, maybe, or guilt. You can’t quite tell. Her jaw tightens, the muscles working as if she’s biting back the first response that comes to mind. Instead, her gaze shifts, no longer carrying the frustration or defensiveness you’ve grown used to. Instead, there’s something softer, rawer, in the way she looks at you now. The intensity of her eyes locks you in place, her expression quietly pleading yet resolute.

“I’m not going to let that happen again,” Paige says, her voice low and steady. “I know I’ve screwed up before. I’ve made you feel like you’re not a priority, like you’re just… there, waiting for me to fit you in.” She pauses, the weight of her own admission hanging heavily between you. “But that’s not how I see you. That’s not what I want us to be.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. There’s no rehearsed apology, no empty promises. Just a raw honesty that feels like she’s peeling back the layers she’s kept hidden from everyone else. Your heart twists, torn between holding onto your frustration and the pull of what she’s offering.

You narrow your eyes, unwilling to let her off the hook so easily. “And how do I know this isn’t just another one of your moments? That it won’t be the same cycle all over again?”

Paige exhales, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of your skepticism. “Because I don’t want to lose you,” she says simply, her tone almost breaking. “Because when I saw you with her tonight, it felt like the ground was being ripped out from under me. I don’t want to feel that again, Y/N. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not enough, or that you’re not worth my time.”

You’re still sitting on the counter, and the height difference gives you a brief sense of power, though it doesn’t last long under the intensity of her gaze.

“You’re not some item on a list,” she continues, her voice softening as she tilts her head to meet your eyes. “You’re the list, Y/N. You’re the one thing that matters more than all of it. And if that means I have to rearrange my life, show up differently, or prove it to you every single day, then that’s what I’ll do.”

The vulnerability in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and bitterness you’ve been clinging to starts to loosen its grip. Still, you’re not ready to let her win that easily. You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as if to study her, daring her to flinch under your scrutiny.

“You’re really laying it on thick, Bueckers,” you quip, though the usual sharpness in your tone is softened by the faintest hint of a smirk.

Paige’s lips twitch upward, a flicker of her usual confidence returning. “That’s because I mean it,” she counters, her voice steady. “I’m not going to let you walk away from this—not without fighting for you.”

You’re quiet for a moment, the air between you charged with unspoken feelings and the lingering tension of everything that’s gone unsaid for far too long.

“So, you’re telling me I’m the priority now?” you ask, your voice quieter this time, a little softer, though you keep your arms crossed in a weak attempt to shield yourself. There’s hesitation in your tone, an uncertainty you can’t quite hide, but the words still slip past your lips. “Not basketball, not your schedule, not the team?”

Paige doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t waver. Her blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that pins you in place, her conviction written all over her face. “Yes,” she says, her voice steady, as though the truth of it is something she’s carried for a long time. “You. Only you, Y/N.”

You look down at where her hands rest, then back up to meet her eyes—those piercing blue eyes that seem to hold nothing but honesty and a hint of fear, as if she’s bracing for your rejection. Your defenses falter. The weight of her confession, the raw emotion in her voice, the way she’s standing there, so vulnerable—it all seeps into the cracks of your resolve. Slowly, your arms drop to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing as you exhale a shaky breath.

“Paige,” you murmur, your voice quieter now, fueled with something more forgiving. “If you screw this up—”

“I won’t,” she interrupts, her voice firm but not forceful. Her hands slide up slightly, resting on your hips now, anchoring herself to you. “I swear to you, Y/N. I won’t.”

You hold her gaze for another long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But all you see is determination—determination and something deeper, something so achingly familiar it makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” you whisper, the word barely audible, but it’s enough. Enough to make Paige’s expression soften, her shoulders relax, and a spark of hope flicker in her eyes.

Her grip on your hips tightens slightly as she steps closer, standing between your legs, her face just inches from yours now. “Okay?” she repeats, as if she can’t quite believe it.

“Okay,” you say again, your voice steadier this time. You tilt your head slightly, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But you’d better back it up, Bueckers. I’m not making this easy for you.”

Paige chuckles softly, a sound filled with relief and affection. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Before you can respond, she leans in, her hands sliding up to cup your face gently, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. She hesitates for the briefest moment, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you don’t, she closes the distance.

The kiss is slow at first, almost tentative, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. But it doesn’t take long for the intensity to build, for her to pour every ounce of her emotions into the connection. Her lips move against yours with a mix of passion and desperation, and you can feel her heartbeat pounding in sync with your own.

Your hands find their way to her shoulders, then slide up to thread through her hair, pulling her closer as you kiss her back with just as much fervor. The tension, the anger, the frustration of the past week melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest like wildfire.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting together. Paige’s eyes search yours, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. “I’ll make it up to you, Y/N. Every day. You’ll see.”

You can’t help but smile back, your fingers still tangled in her hair. “You’d better,” you reply, your tone soft but teasing. “Because I’m holding you to it.”

Paige grins, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it feels like everything is falling into place.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post #uconn x reader

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hy6erion · 10 days ago

Note

viktor and jayce fighting over you??

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐨

1. The Scientific Method (or How to Win You Over)

It starts subtly—at least, as subtle as Jayce can manage.

“You know,” he says, leaning against your desk, broad shoulders blocking your view of the latest schematics, “I was thinking—you and I should go out sometime. Just the two of us. For research purposes.”

You don’t even have time to process before Viktor, seated across from you, speaks without looking up from his own work.

“Research into what? The effects of secondhand embarrassment?”

Jayce shoots him a glare. “Into team bonding, Viktor.”

“Mm. And what hypothesis are you testing? That you can single-handedly drive them to madness?” Viktor hums, scratching something in his notes. “A bold assumption, but I suppose it is not entirely unfounded.”

Jayce turns back to you, ignoring him. “Dinner. Drinks. Maybe some—”

“A headache,” Viktor mutters.

Jayce groans, running a hand down his face before pointing at you. “You. Pick a side here.”

You exhale, setting down your pen. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about.”

“We aren’t arguing,” Viktor says at the same time Jayce huffs, “We are arguing.”

You stare at them both. They stare at each other.

This has been happening for weeks.

It’s not always this obvious—sometimes it’s in the little things, the way Viktor always ensures your coffee is warm but lets Jayce suffer with whatever’s left in the pot. Or how Jayce somehow always has an extra set of tools whenever you’re missing yours, grinning like he wasn’t just waiting for the opportunity.

And the way they bicker—gods, it never ends.

“Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Jayce, we can do dinner. And Viktor, you can join.”

Jayce groans, throwing his head back. “Not the third-wheel invitation—”

“I accept,” Viktor interrupts smoothly.

Jayce turns to him, expression wounded. “Dude.”

“You do not own them, Jayce.”

“Neither do you!”

Viktor just smiles.

You take another sip of your coffee. This is going to be a long night.

2. The Art of Winning (or Just Being Petty)

“Y/n, my dearest, most trusted lab partner,” Viktor says, sidling up next to you while you’re examining some blueprints. “You are an artist of unparalleled skill. Would you mind assisting me with some designs?”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can answer, Jayce materializes from across the room.

“Woah, woah, hold on, I was just about to ask them for help.”

Viktor tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Just about to? How convenient.”

Jayce narrows his eyes. “You knew I was gonna ask them—”

“Mm. And yet, I asked first.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Time is linear, Jayce. Surely you understand this.”

Jayce looks ready to explode.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You both know I have other work to do, right?”

They don’t. They definitely don’t.

But Jayce recovers first, flashing you his most charming smile. “C’mon, you know I have the bigger project right now—”

“Size does not determine quality, Jayce,” Viktor interrupts. “By that logic, your brain should be much more effective.”

Jayce’s jaw drops. “Did you just—?”

“Mm?” Viktor takes a slow sip of his tea.

You sigh, turning away before you witness a murder. “I’m flipping a coin. Heads, I help Jayce. Tails, I help Viktor.”

Jayce’s shoulders relax. “That seems fair.”

Viktor hums, noncommittal.

You flip. The coin lands. You glance at it.

Then, you slap it onto your palm before either of them can see and say, “I’m helping myself today.”

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, and Jayce groans, dropping his head onto the nearest surface.

“Brilliant,” Viktor murmurs. “I am rubbing off on you.”

Jayce mumbles something into the desk. You pat his shoulder in consolation before walking away, leaving them to their stalemate.

3. The Heart of the Matter (Or: Maybe They’re Not as Subtle as They Think)

At some point, you begin to wonder if they even know what they’re fighting over.

Because it’s not just lab work. It’s not just projects, or coffee, or who gets to sit next to you during meetings.

It’s you.

And they’re both smart enough to know it, even if neither of them says it outright.

It’s in the way Jayce’s gaze lingers whenever you laugh, like he’s memorizing the sound. The way Viktor’s voice softens when he murmurs your name, careful, like he knows the weight it holds.

It’s in how they both wait for you at the end of the day, pretending it’s just coincidence.

It’s in the way Viktor watches Jayce’s arm brush against yours and says nothing, but his fingers tighten around his cane. In how Jayce watches Viktor pull you in to murmur something close and he says nothing, but his jaw tenses.

It’s in the way neither of them will ever say it—but neither of them will yield, either.

And you?Well.

You just let them fight.

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f1cflcfic · 1 month ago

Text

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part II

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i

♥･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♥

September, 2026

[Excerpt from Kelly Clarkson interview with Y/N]

“We’re so excited to have y/n l/n with us today, I can’t get your latest song out of my head. It’s really such a great revival of the sultry pop ballads,” Kelly says joyously, and y/n can’t help but smile.

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you – I grew up watching you on American Idol, I can’t believe I’m even sitting across from you now.”

“Oh my god, stop! You’re gonna make me feel real old. Congratulations again on your Grammy for your sophomore album, All I Ever Needed. How did it feel going into your new project with that in the back of your mind?”

Y/N shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. “Hmm thank you. I – well, it was really different. The songs I wrote on there were coming from this feeling of bliss which was fading fast by the time the Grammy’s rolled around. I had to figure out what kind of artist I am if I’m not in love, or writing about happiness. It felt embarrassing. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I love sharing love. So it was hard for me, not gonna lie. But I’m happy that we got there in the end.”

“Wow, well I was able to listen to a few other songs on this record. I gotta say, I think it’s by far your best record yet. And did you write on all of the songs this time around again?”

Y/N nods her head, a small smile creeping back up on her face. “Yeah, I did. It turns out that writing about sad things can be really cathartic. But I really want people to know that it doesn’t mean this isn’t an album about love. At the end of the day, each of these songs are love letters to every single moment or person that made me feel something – for better or worse.”

early October, 2026

[Transcription of Capital FM segment with Y/N]

“We’ve got Y/N L/N with us here on Capital FM, and we’re about to play a quick round of Never Have I Ever! Are you ready?”

Y/N smiles, holding a paddle with “I Have” and “I Have Never”. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great! Now first one: Never have I ever… regifted a gift someone bought me.”

“Ooooh, not a gift someone bought me. But things I have been sent or given in goodie bags I’ve definitely regifted,” Y/N says, and raises the “I Have Never” paddle.

“That’s alright! I think that’s not too bad. In fact, I’d volunteer to get something regifted from you,” the host laughs. “I usually donate it, but next time I’ll keep you in mind!”

“Perfect. Next one: Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs”

Y/N rolls her eyes and raises the “I Have” paddle. “Who hasn’t? If people say they haven’t, they’re just lying to you.”

“Who’s the most famous person who’s ever been in your DMs?” The host asks, and Y/N laughs. “Hmm Taylor Swift, maybe?”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you?” Y/N nods. “Yeah, I actually wrote ‘how did it end?’ during a studio session with her.”

“Hmm that brings me to the next question – never have I ever written a song about an ex.”

Again, Y/N raises the “I Have” paddle, but then twists it so it’s halfway. “I think sometimes, no scratch that, I think almost always songs work way better when they’re open for interpretation. Isn’t it nice how everyone can take something else from it, that way?”

“Have you ever gotten back together with an ex?” The host asks, and Y/N makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Never! First rule in the book, or so my friends tell me all the time.”

"Even when the heart wants what it wants?"

"Even then."

mid October, 2026

[Excerpt from Call Her Daddy episode with Y/N]

“I think in many ways this album is the most naked I’ve ever felt in my emotions. But maybe that’s actually a good thing,” Y/N grins.

“They do say that sex sells,” Alex (Cooper) responds, and Y/N chuckles. “You’ll find hardly any of that on this album.”

“That’s not entirely true, there’s a song on there with some explicit lyrics,” she adds.

“Undrunk? Funnily enough, that one was probably one of the easier ones to write because it actually felt the furthest removed from myself? It’s inspired by, but not based on my own experiences. I’d say it’s my unlived life,” Y/N tries to explain.

“Talk to me about that. People are always quite eager to pinpoint all experiences of a celebrity. They know who you’ve dated, look for clues and dissect every lyric. How do you decide what to share and what not to share?”

“I think it’s sort of why I wanted to share ‘how did it end?’. Even the title track is me addressing the fact that everyone feels entitled to determine my love story. Including me, I think everyone tries to engineer or hack happiness at one point in their life. But it doesn’t work like that. And at the same time, it’s important for me to try and have some semblance of control over my own narrative, my feelings, my sense of self. And that also goes for the people whose presence in my life inspired me to write these songs. For better or worse, I’m grateful for it.”

Alex smirks. “Look, we can’t avoid the topic here. We all know that one of those people is Formula One driver Lando Norris. He’s also got a lot of very dedicated fans, who’ve been clamoring under every post of yours to leave him alone ever since you started dating. How did, and do you deal with that? It would have been easy to erase him from your social media, once the relationship ended, but you chose not to do that. Was that a conscious decision on your end, or something you ever discussed?”

Y/N takes a sip of water, and purses her lips. “I kinda feel like it’s just not really my place to expand on that – it’s between Lando and his fans. Like, it actually has nothing to do with me, I feel. If people are surprised I didn’t delete like three photos, it’s just because I like them – it’s not that deep. I can still cherish good moments, even when they’re in the past. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact that my ex was part of my life. But it’s not for me to comment on it beyond that. He’s well within his rights to want to delete them, and he doesn’t need to explain to anyone – not to me, not to his fans, anyone why he did it.”

“But it’s more than that. It does seem to imply he doesn’t like the association. And yet you referenced him in the video for “Jaded”. It’s caused some controversy,” she prods a little more.

Y/N snorts. “I was just paying homage to my co-writer, and her iconic 7 Things video. But it’s also partly me taking that ownership. A video is one of the few spaces where you can set the scene. If I wanted to expand on it, I’d have done it through art. People will be mad either way, and the props don’t add anything you can’t already infer from the lyrics.”

“Has he listened to it?”

“Have you?” Y/N counters. Alex smiles, then moves on.

end of October, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

Y/N L/N reveals tracklist to her third album as anticipation grows!

An obvious contender for the BRITs, is what the first reviews are saying about L/N's latest record “Jaded”. The LP will arrive in just two weeks, but up until today we did not know the exact runtime of the highly anticipated album. After posting to her Instagram, Y/N L/N revealed that the regular version of The Prophecy will count 12 tracks, with the deluxe edition raising that to a comfortable 16. Fans will surely be delighted to know that they can purchase various versions, all contributing to what is looking to be a very easy chart victory.

Talking to Jimmy Fallon earlier this week, L/N stated that she hopes her fans will listen to the album in its running order. “I know it’s really tempting to skip straight to your favourite, but I spent ages ruminating over how to tell my story in the best way – so I hope that translates.”

So far, all official singles of “The Prophecy” have charted both in the Official Top 20 as well as the Billboard Top 40, with The Heart Want What It Wants peaking on top, and Jaded just outside the top 10 at #11.

♥･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♥ I was soooooo happily surprised by the response to the previous part that I hurried up to post this :) Any comments, likes, reblogs, asks are super appreciated. ♥ Part III is now available here, it'll be four six parts in total. for those interested, official tracklist songs

how did it end? - Taylor Swift / The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez / Jaded - Miley Cyrus / Lie to Girls - Sabrina Carpenter / Breakeven - The Script / The Prophecy - Taylor Swift / Stay - Gracie Abrams / Science + Faith - The Script / Moral of the Story ft. Niall Horan - Ashe / Undrunk - Fletcher / Vertigo - Griff / No More Sad Songs - Little Mix / Paper Hearts - Tori Kelly / Into You - Julia Michaels / Supercut - Lorde / Genesis - Dua Lipa Link to a playlist here

#lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #lando norris x you #the prophecy smau

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brunchable · 6 months ago

Text

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

Part II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just nodded.

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think, Pierce. I know.”

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

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

“Bucky…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

× × × ×

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

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

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

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

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

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

SMACK!

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

"Don't you feel like a slut, in here with me, getting fucked, while those morons think you’re indestructible?”

SMACK!

"Answer me!" he growls, smacking you more in between, his grip on your hair tightened, it's beginning to hurt your scalp.

"Yes," you moaned, so turned on that you could have come at any moment.

"Yes what?” he says through his gritted teeth, smacking you harder that it echoes in the room.

“Yes I feel like a slut.” you choked out with a smile on your lips.

“Good. You're going to come all over this dick, saying my name, yes?” he said, slapping your clit with his cock. With your thighs spread wide, the tip of his cock presses your entrance. The smooth head slides between your folds and rubs against your clit, intensifying your arousal.

“Yes.” You moan, your head arching back, and he slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch.

You gasp as he goes deeper, filling you again with his thickness. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation.

He begins to rock back and forth, causing his shaft to move within you ever so slightly, sending waves of heat throughout your body. However, each movement also serves as a reminder of the earlier beating, and a pained moan escapes your throat as your sore buttocks rub against his hard thighs.

He devours you with his kiss, swallowing your whimpers, his mouth now consuming yours with unrestrained hunger.

His hips rocking harder, adding to the pressure building within your core, "You like that, don't you?" he growled.

"Mmmm." you could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure that consumed you. Your own fingers assaulting your clit trying to match his rhythm.

Yanking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts, Bucky battered your tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, his gaze dark and possessive, his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit your cervix. A trembling moan left you, the friction of his drives stirring your never-sated need to be fucked senseless by him.

Long strokes. Pounding, pile driving impacts. Your pussy was so wet there was hardly any friction in or out, just the brutal slapping as he jackhammered you pussy remorselessly. Not fucking. Mating. Breeding.

His other hand moves down your body, his hand spreading your wetness through your stretched slit before pressing his fingers moving small circular motions to gripping your clit between his thumb and index finger.

“J-James—O-h-h, F-u-c-k” you muttered in a broken moan as you flew apart.

Your orgasm is so strong, you can’t even make a sound. For a few blissful seconds, you're completely swamped by pleasure, by ecstasy so intense that it’s almost agonizing. Your body shudders uncontrollably under his body, your muscles clamping down his cock tightly, while your hips gyrate as his cock continues to pound you. Your movements trigger his own release.

“I'm damn close—fuck, I'm coming.” The sensation of you milking his cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through him, hurling him in to reach his peak. Groaning harshly, he grinds his pelvis against you, “Oh I'm coming.”

“Yes! Fill me up—give it to me inside.”

Muscles rippled and bulged along his shoulders and quads as he leaned forward, grinding every millimeter of thickness and length into you. A rough, guttural growl rumbled through your bones. Jet after jet of hot, potent cum deluged your ravaged, desperately spasming walls.

“Ready for more?” he whispers in your ear, his cock barely softening within you. He kisses your earlobe, and the tender gesture is such a contrast to what he’d just done that you feel disoriented. That wasn't normal winter soldier behavior.

× × × ×

You sat straddling Bucky on the leather couch, your breathing still heavy from fucking three times in a row. You began to move away, Bucky’s hands, which had been resting on your hips, suddenly tightened their grip.

You felt the change before you saw it—It was subtle at first, the flicker in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as his gaze became focused, sharp. But there was something else too, something far away in his stare, as if he were trying to grasp onto a memory just out of reach.

"The man at the bridge, who was he?" Bucky's voice was low, but it carried a weight that made you pause.

You had seen these moments of clarity before, rare glimpses of the man he used to be before HYDRA twisted his mind. They never lasted long, a fleeting reminder of the person buried beneath the Winter Soldier’s conditioning. You knew what HYDRA expected of you—what Pierce demanded—but as you looked into Bucky’s eyes, your best friend from a time long past, so lost and vulnerable, you hesitated.

“You met him this week on another assignment.” you replied, trying to keep your voice detached.

“I knew him.” His voice was stronger this time, he was certain.

“Look, Pierce is gonna want us to push it tomorrow—” You shifted slightly, trying to pull away from him, but Bucky’s forced you down on his lap, keeping you in place.

“But I knew him.”

You sighed deeply, frustrated. Grabbing his face roughly, you forced him to look at you, your fingers digging into his skin. "Listen to me, whatever is going on in your head, I need you to put it aside. If Pierce finds out about this, he's going to put you through electroshock to reset you, and I can’t let that happen.”

Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything, that made sense. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You released your grip on his face, your fingers trailing through his hair as you brushed his brown locks out of the way. "Old sentiments," you muttered, the words bitter on your tongue.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie, a half-truth.

It wasn’t just sentiment, though, was it? It was the guilt, the buried rage at everything HYDRA had turned you into. You hated Pierce, despised SHIELD, and the mere thought of Steve brought a twisted knot of anger and betrayal to your chest. But Bucky—Bucky didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through, not after being twisted into something unrecognizable by the same people who had destroyed your life.

You weren’t doing this because you were good. You weren’t a hero. You were still the same girl driven by anger and resentment toward the world. But Bucky, he was the only piece of your past that still mattered, the only thing left that was worth saving.

And so, as you looked into his confused, lost eyes, you made a silent promise. You would free him from this nightmare, only because he was your friend.

“Just trust me,” you whispered, your voice softer now. “In due time, you will get the answers you want to hear.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, he nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze, “I trust you.”

The fragments of his past flickered like dying embers in the recesses of his mind. He couldn't fully grasp who he was before HYDRA, couldn't make sense of the flashes of memory that haunted him in the rare moments of clarity. But there was something about you—something that tugged at his very soul, making him feel connected in a way that defied explanation.

He was a weapon, a tool shaped and controlled by forces he barely understood, yet whenever he looked at you, something within him stirred. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—but something deeper, something that made him feel almost human again. His heart remembered you, even when his mind could not.

Why did he feel so drawn to you, so protective, so...fond? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t have memories of you, no context for these emotions, yet they were there, strong and insistent. He was the Winter Soldier—cold, detached, and efficient—but around you, those walls seemed to crack, letting in warmth he didn’t understand.

His hands trailed up the small of your back and he found himself leaning in, compelled by a force he couldn’t resist. His lips found yours, and the kiss that followed was as much a search for answers as it was an expression of the remnants of love he has for you. He felt the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips, and momentarily, it all made sense.

× × × ×

The streets were slick with rain, the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement as Steve, Natasha, and Sam moved through the shadows. The mission was simple—take down the HYDRA operatives before they could unleash chaos. But nothing about this night was going according to plan.

A sudden blur of movement caught Steve’s attention, and he spun around just in time to raise his shield, blocking a powerful kick aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through the vibranium, the sheer force behind the blow surprising him. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary agent.

His attacker wore black from head to toe, a tactical mask obscuring your face, a hood pulled low over your eyes. Steve couldn’t see your face, but he could tell from the fluidity of their movements that you were highly trained—possibly even on par with him.

Without giving him a moment’s rest, you launched into a series of rapid strikes. Steve’s body reacted on instinct, parrying and blocking with precision honed from years of combat. But the ferocity and speed of the attacks were relentless, forcing him back step by step.

The fight was a brutal dance of skill and power. You used every inch of the narrow alley to your advantage, bouncing off walls, using the slippery ground to slide under Steve’s defenses, and striking at vulnerable points with deadly accuracy. Steve swung his shield in a wide arc, aiming to knock his opponent off balance, but then you ducked under it effortlessly, coming up with a knee strike that connected solidly with his midsection.

Steve grunted, the air forced from his lungs as he staggered back, but he quickly recovered, slamming his shield forward to create some distance between you. You leaped back with cat-like agility, landing silently several feet away. For a brief moment, you paused, tilting your head as if assessing him, before darting forward again with even more speed.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve growled, his voice low and filled with frustration as he swung his shield to intercept the incoming attack.

You didn’t respond, merely twisting your body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the shield before delivering a roundhouse kick aimed at Steve’s head. He barely had time to duck, feeling the rush of air as the boot sailed over his head.

In response, Steve drove his shoulder into your midsection, attempting to drive you into the wall, but you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip over him and deliver a brutal elbow strike to the back of his head. Steve stumbled forward, momentarily disoriented, but he quickly spun around, his shield raised defensively.

You advanced again, this time producing a pair of combat knives from your belt. The glint of the blades under the streetlights was enough to make Steve’s grip on his shield tighten.

“Knives, really?” Steve muttered, more to himself than to his opponent. He had faced down armies with just his fists, but this fight felt different—more personal, more dangerous.

You didn’t waste time with a response, instead rushing forward with both blades aimed at his vital points. Steve deflected the first strike with his shield, twisting his body to avoid the second, but you were relentless. You pressed the attack, slashing and stabbing with surgical precision, each strike aimed to cripple or kill.

Steve retaliated with a powerful swing of his shield, the force behind it enough to send most opponents flying, but you anticipated the move. You ducked low, sweeping your legs out to knock Steve off his feet. Steve managed to stay upright, but the move forced him to lose his balance, and you took advantage, driving one of the knives toward his chest.

In a split-second reaction, Steve angled his shield to deflect the blade, but the impact sent vibrations up his arm, nearly causing him to drop it. You didn’t let up, following up with a swift knee strike to his ribs, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.

Breathing heavily, Steve tried to reassess the situation. This was no ordinary operative—this was someone who had been trained specifically to counter him. And you were good. Too good.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Steve growled, pushing forward with renewed determination.

He swung his shield with all his might, aiming to knock you off balance, but you were ready. You caught the edge of the shield with both hands, the impact skidding you back several feet, your boots screeching against the wet pavement. With a grunt, you twirled in the air, using the momentum to hurl the shield back at Steve.

Steve barely had time to react, catching the shield just before it collided with his face. But the force behind it was immense, pushing him back a few steps.

Before he could press his advantage, you were on him again, this time using a combination of grappling techniques and martial arts to try and subdue him. You were quick, switching between jabs, hooks, and submission holds with fluid precision. At one point, you managed to lock Steve’s arm behind his back, twisting it at a painful angle as you tried to force him to the ground.

Steve gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to go down. He planted his feet firmly and used his strength to break the hold, swinging his elbow back to catch the figure in the side. The blow connected, but you barely flinched, countering with a vicious headbutt that left Steve momentarily dazed.

You went for another knife strike, this time aiming for his throat. Steve caught your wrist mid-strike, twisting it with enough force to make you drop the knife. But instead of recoiling in pain, you used the momentum to flip Steve over your shoulder, slamming him into the ground with a force that left him gasping.

He struggled to get up, his vision swimming from the impact. You stood over him, a boot pressing down on his chest, pinning him in place. In a move born of desperation, Steve reached up, grabbing the edge of your mask and tearing it off.

Time seemed to slow as the mask came away, revealing the face beneath. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

It was you, all along.

The world came to a stop as he stared up at you, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. You—alive, but different. Your eyes, once filled with warmth and love, were now cold and distant, filled with a darkness he had never seen before.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, shock and disbelief flooding his features.

For a split second, your cold facade cracked, a flash of recognition and pain crossing your features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, your expression hardening once more. You took advantage of Steve’s shock, delivering a swift punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

Before Steve could fully recover, you turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, moving with a speed that left Steve struggling to keep up. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding as he chased after you, but by the time he reached the door, you were already gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

Steve stood in the doorway, his heart heavy with the realization that the woman he had once loved was now his enemy. The Y/N he knew was gone, replaced by someone hardened by pain and anger.

× × × ×

Steve stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You're alive—and he let you disappear into the night, leaving him with more questions than answers. Before he could fully process what he had seen, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Cap, we’ve got a situation here,” Tony’s voice was tense, though laced with his usual sarcasm. “I’ve got a guest who’s a little too enthusiastic for my taste. Could use some backup.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Tony, who is it?”

“Not sure, but she’s got one hell of a right hook and a serious attitude problem,” Tony replied, the sound of metal clashing and blasts firing in the background. “And oh, did I mention she can jump like the Hulk?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who Tony was dealing with. Without wasting another second, he took off in the direction of the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tony, clad in his Iron Man suit, was locked in a fierce aerial battle with you, who was now maskless and fully visible. Your face was set in grim determination as you leapt into the air, your powerful legs propelling you high enough to meet Tony’s flight path. Each of your strikes was calculated, aimed at the joints and weaker points of the suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Wonder Woman!” Tony said, dodging a particularly brutal punch that nearly dented his chest plate. “I’m not a piñata, you know!”

Your expression remained cold as you twisted in midair, avoiding a repulsor blast and landing a solid kick against Tony’s side, sending him spiraling briefly before he regained control.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Tony called out as he righted himself, flying in a tight circle around you before firing off another series of repulsor blasts. You dodged most of them with ease, but one caught you in the shoulder, causing you to grimace slightly. You recovered quickly, though, using the momentum to propel your back into the air, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s faceplate.

Tony barely had time to dodge, the blow glancing off his helmet with enough force to crack the HUD display.

“Okay, now you’re just being rude!” he said sarcastically, as he adjusted his flight path to put some distance between you.

You didn’t give him much room to breathe, though. With a powerful leap, you closed the gap between you, grabbing onto Tony’s arm and using your weight to pull him down. Both of you crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, the pavement cracking beneath you. Tony groaned as he struggled to push you off, but your strength was overwhelming, even for the suit’s enhanced capabilities.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Tony grunted as he activated the suit’s thrusters, attempting to blast them both back into the air. You held on tightly, twisting his arm at an awkward angle that caused the servos in the suit to whine in protest.

“You talk too much,” You finally replied, your voice flat and cold as you released your grip on his arm and delivered a sharp kick to his midsection, sending him flying backward.

Tony recovered mid-flight, his repulsors flaring as he hovered a few feet off the ground, rubbing at the dent you'd left in his side.

“Yeah, well, it’s part of my charm,” he shot back, firing off another barrage of missiles in your direction.

You dodged with an almost effortless grace, leaping into the air once more and landing on top of a nearby building. You crouched low, your eyes locked on Tony as you prepared for the next move.

Tony hovered in place, watching you closely. “Seriously, what’s your deal? We just met, and you’re already throwing me around like a rag doll.”

Your expression didn’t change as you suddenly launched yourself off the building, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s chest. This time, though, you didn’t hold back. The impact was tremendous, sending Tony crashing through a parked car and skidding across the pavement.

Groaning, Tony pushed himself up, his HUD flickering from the damage. “Okay, that’s it. Playtime’s over.”

He activated the suit’s full power, repulsors blazing as he rocketed back toward you. The two of you clashed mid-air, exchanging blows at a speed and intensity that would have shattered ordinary opponents. But through it all, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren't giving it your all. There was a calculated precision in your strikes, as if you were testing him rather than trying to finish him off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trading hits, Tony managed to grab hold of your wrists, locking them in place with the suit’s enhanced grip. He lifted you off the ground, his repulsors ready to fire point-blank, “End of the line, lady. Let’s talk.”

You didn’t resist. Instead, you looked up at him with an unreadable expression, your body suddenly going limp.

“Fine,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “You win.”

Tony blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

You simply nodded, allowing yourself to be restrained by the suit’s mechanisms.

“Take me in,” you said, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’m not going to fight anymore.”

Tony frowned, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, but he didn’t press the issue. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere safe and figure out what the hell is going on.”

As Tony started to descend, Steve finally arrived on the scene, his shield at the ready. He took in the sight of Tony holding you, your face calm despite the situation, and his heart sank.

Tony looked at Steve and couldn’t help but say, “Well, look who decided to show up. Don’t worry, I had everything under control—just took a brief break to contemplate my life choices while getting pummeled.”

Your lips twitched a small smile at his comment.

Steve caught his breath as he assessed the situation. “Better late than never, right?”

“Next time, maybe give me a heads-up when you’re gonna leave me to play the lone hero. Could’ve at least brought popcorn to watch the show.” Tony shook his head.

Steve stared at your face, his eyes taking in every detail, even rubbing his eyes to make sure this was real. Tony furrowed his brows at Steve and exchanged glances between the two of you.

“So,” Tony finally broke the silence, his tone shifting to something more serious, “are we bringing her in, or are we just gonna stand here and play the ‘who blinks first’?”

× × × ×

The soft hum of the Helicarrier's engines was the only sound as the team gathered around the large, circular table. A few faces were still unfamiliar with each other—Natasha, Clint, and Sam exchanged glances as they settled into their seats. Tony, leaning back casually, eyed Steve, who stood apart from the group, a heavy tension radiating from him. It was clear that something weighed heavily on the Captain’s mind, something that no one had dared to address yet.

In the center of the table, a holographic screen flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow over the faces of the Avengers. Fury stood at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Listen up," Fury began, his voice commanding everyone's attention. "We've got a new player on the board, and she’s every bit as dangerous as the Winter Soldier."

With a tap of his finger, Fury brought up a series of video feeds on the screen, all showing various skirmishes involving HYDRA forces. But the common thread through each of these battles was a single figure: you.

The hologram shifted, showing footage of you in action, moving through a battlefield. Bullets ricocheted off you, seemingly ineffective as you advanced on your targets with single-minded precision. The final clip showed you taking down an entire squadron of soldiers without breaking a sweat, your movements efficient and deadly.

"Meet HYDRA's new secret weapon," Fury continued, his tone grim. "We don’t have a lot of intel on her, but what we do know isn’t good. She’s been operating under the radar, but make no mistake—she’s a force to be reckoned with. No hesitation, no mercy."

The profile flashed on the screen, sparse and incomplete:

Name: Unknown Age: Unknown Origin: Siberia

The room was silent as the team absorbed the information. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she studied the footage, while Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, deep in thought. Tony looked intrigued, his mind already racing with calculations and possibilities.

“She looks like she’s trained well. This isn’t someone who just stumbled into HYDRA’s ranks. She’s had years of experience.” Natasha commented before shifting her gaze to Fury.

“Years of brainwashing, you mean,” Tony added, his tone filled with dry sarcasm. “Another weaponized human for us to deal with. Just what we needed.”

Clint leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied your image. "She doesn’t look like she’s been held against her will. If anything, she seems... committed.”

Fury nodded, his expression steely. “Our priority is figuring out her next move, because that,” he pointed at your live footage in the cell sitting calmly, “is not the type to surrender easily.”

Steve remained silent throughout the briefing, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the image of you on the screen. Fury’s words were sinking in, each one a painful reminder of how far you had fallen.

"We’ve already got her in a secure cell," Fury continued, his tone brokering no argument. "But I don’t think she’s going to stay quiet for long. Our best bet is to find out everything we can about her—where she’s been, what HYDRA’s done to her—and see if we can get ahead of this. We’re playing catch-up, and we can’t afford to stay behind for long.”

“How do you know if she’s going to cooperate?” Clint asked.

"We don’t," Fury admitted, his tone grim. "But that’s why we’re not taking any chances. She's locked down tighter than Fort Knox, and we're monitoring her every move.”

Fury’s gaze shifted to Steve, who had remained silent, staring intently at the image of you in the cell. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited to see if Steve would speak.

Finally, Fury broke the silence, addressing the room at large. "We don’t know what HYDRA’s endgame is here, but we do know they’ve put a lot of resources into this. We can’t underestimate her, and we can’t assume she’s alone. There’s more going on here, and we need to be prepared for anything.”

The team just nodded in unison.

Fury’s gaze swept across the team before he asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. "So, who wants the privilege of talking to her?"

The room fell silent as everyone considered the gravity of the situation. Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts telling her that this conversation would be more dangerous than any fight. Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge, but before anyone could volunteer, Steve finally spoke up, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

"I’ll do it," Steve said, his gaze never leaving the screen.

Tony glanced at Steve, then back at the image on the screen, and with a smirk, he added, "Well, she made Cap make friends with the floor, so I’ll come with. Can’t let him have all the fun, right?”

Steve shot Tony a look, but there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and having Tony there might just make it a bit more bearable.

× × × ×

The interrogation room was cold, the walls made of reinforced steel, with a single table and three chairs bolted to the floor. The whole room was lit up, leaving no shadows around the room. You sat in one of the chairs, your hands cuffed securely in front of you, though the cuffs seemed more like a formality than a real deterrent.

Steve and Tony stood outside the observation window, looking in at you. Steve’s expression was tense, his eyes fixed on you, while Tony had a thoughtful look on his face, his usual humor subdued.

"You ready for this?" Tony asked, his voice unusually serious as he glanced at Steve.

Steve nodded, but there was a storm of emotions churning beneath his calm exterior. "Let’s get it over with."

They stepped into the room, the door closing behind them with a heavy thud. You didn’t look up as they entered, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you, as if you were lost in thought. But as they took their seats across from you, you slowly lifted your eyes, a faint, unreadable smile playing on your lips.

"Captain," you said, your voice cool and calm. "Mr. Stark."

“Hello Unknown—”

"Y/N," Steve replied, his tone heavy with the weight of your shared history.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up slightly at Steve’s use of your name, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his eyes flicked over to Steve with a look of mild surprise.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you sized each other up, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, Tony broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that didn’t quite match the situation.

"So, Y/N," Tony began, quoting your name with his fingers, his tone conversational, almost friendly. "You know, I’m usually the one asking the questions, but let’s mix it up a bit. Why don’t you tell us why you decided to let us catch you?"

You raised an eyebrow at Tony’s question, your smile widening just a fraction. "Did I let you catch me? Or did you just get lucky?"

Tony smirked, twirling a fork he had slipped from the dining area between his fingers. "Oh, I don’t believe in luck. You’re too good to get caught by accident. So, what’s the plan? What’s HYDRA up to this time?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know?” You tilted your head slightly, considering your response.

Steve’s jaw clenched at your evasiveness, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke. "Y/N, we need to know what HYDRA’s planning. You can stop this. Whatever they’ve done to you, we can help."

Tony’s eyes shifted between you and Steve, the curiosity deepening. He still didn’t say anything about Steve using your name, but it was clear he had taken note of it.

You turned your gaze to Steve, staring daggers into him. "Help? Like you helped Bucky?" The question was pointed, sharp enough to draw blood.

Steve flinched, but he didn’t back down. “We’re trying to save you.”

“Save me?” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “You can’t even save yourselves.”

Tony cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “Speaking of saving, I’ve been wondering about something.” He held up the fork, “Let’s try a little experiment.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A fork? How quaint."

Tony grinned, twirling the fork between his fingers. "Well, I figured we’d see just how indestructible you really are."

Before Steve could protest, Tony reached across the table and pressed the fork against your forearm, applying pressure as if to test your skin. You didn’t flinch or move, simply watching him with an amused expression.

The fork bent under the pressure, the metal warping against your skin as if it were nothing more than a cheap plastic utensil. Tony released it, letting the mangled fork drop to the table with a clatter.

"Well, that’s definitely not normal.” Tony glanced at the bent fork, then back at you, his surprise quickly masked by his usual bravado.

"Satisfied?” You looked down at the fork, then back up at Tony, your eyebrows raised in a silent, almost mocking challenge.

Tony leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed, though he tried to hide it. "Well, I’ve seen weirder, but that’s up there."

Steve, who had been watching the exchange with frustration, finally spoke up. "Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA’s done to you, whatever they’ve made you believe, it doesn’t have to be this way."

You leaned forward slightly, your expression hardening. "Steve, you’re still so naive. This world doesn’t care about heroes or villains. It’s about power, control. And HYDRA... they understand that better than anyone."

Tony frowned, leaning forward as well. "So what’s your endgame? What do you get out of all this?"

You looked between the two of them, your smile fading as you considered the question. "Endgame? You really think it’s that simple? I’m just a piece on the board, Stark. The difference is, I know it."

Tony shook his head with a smirk. "You know, it’s a real shame you’re a total piece of shit because we would have made great friends. No offense, Cap." Tony lightly patted Steve on the shoulder.

You chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, Stark, it wouldn’t have worked out. I don’t play well with others."

“Yeah, I'm getting that vibe,” Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “But let’s get back to you, I will ask again and you answer. What’s your deal? Why’d you let us catch you? Was it my charm? Steve’s good looks? Or were you just bored of winning?"

You leaned back in your chair, considering his words. "Let’s just say I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You know, see if the Avengers are really as impressive as they say."

Tony leaned in, his grin widening. "And? What’s the verdict?"

You shrugged, your tone nonchalant. "You’re not bad. But I was expecting more... fireworks."

"Fireworks, huh?" Tony glanced at Steve with a smirk. "See, Cap? She’s got a sense of humor. Maybe we can work something out. Maybe you and I can grab a drink later, talk about how we both have a thing for breaking stuff.”

You shrugged, your expression indifferent. “Maybe in another life, Stark. But this one? Not a chance.”

“You’re more than just a piece on the board, Y/N. You always have been.” Steve’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle but firm.

For the first time since the interrogation began, you seemed to hesitate, something flickering in your eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, detached mask you had worn since they had captured you.

"Believe what you want, Steve," you said quietly, leaning back in your chair. "But that doesn’t change anything."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, this is getting us nowhere. We’ll be back, Y/N. And next time, maybe you’ll be in a more talkative mood."

You didn’t respond, simply watching as Tony and Steve stood up, the door to the interrogation room sliding open with a soft hiss. A small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Just as they reached the door, you spoke up, your voice smooth and casual, but with an undercurrent of something darker.

“You might want to keep your friends close,” you murmured, your words barely louder than a whisper but sharp enough to cut through the air, “and your enemies... even closer. Not everyone at the top plays the game fairly.”

Steve paused, his hand on the door, glancing back at you.

Tony turned slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, frowning.

You just shrugged, your smile widening as if you were in on a joke they hadn’t figured out yet. “Just a piece of friendly advice. Sometimes the rot starts from within, and by the time you notice, it’s already spread too deep. But hey, what do I know?”

Steve exchanged a quick glance with Tony, the unspoken concern evident between them. But they knew better than to press you further—this was exactly the kind of mind game HYDRA would want you to play.

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve said, his voice tight as he opened the door.

Without another word, Steve turned and exited the room, Tony following close behind.

As the door shut behind them, you could still hear Tony muttering to Steve, “You think she’s just messing with us, or should we actually be worried?”

Steve’s silence was telling—whatever you meant, it had left him unsettled, and the cryptic warning echoed in his mind, feeding a growing sense of unease.

× × × ×

Flashback: Brooklyn, 1941

The night air was crisp, the sky above a sprawling canvas of twinkling stars that seemed to stretch on forever. You and Steve lay side by side on a worn-out blanket, nestled together on the rooftop of your apartment in Brooklyn. The city’s usual noise felt distant, like a faint echo, leaving only the serene hush of the night and the rhythmic beating of your hearts.

Steve’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gazed up at the stars. “You ever think about what’s out there?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does it all mean?”

You turned your head to look at him, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “Sometimes,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But mostly, I think about what’s right here. Right now.”

“Well, if you’re not thinking about aliens or flying cars, I guess you’ve got your priorities straight.” Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt it reverberate through the quiet night.

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “And what about you, Rogers? Are you spending all your time up here daydreaming about little green men?”

Steve grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how I ended up here with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you everywhere, soldier.”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve said with a wink, and you both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of the breeze.

After a moment, the laughter faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. Steve turned onto his side so he could face you fully, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly more serious. “I know I’m not the strongest or the fastest... and I know I don’t have much to offer, but... I want you to know something.”

You squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “What is it, Steve?”

He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I promise you, no matter what happens... I’ll protect you. I’ll stand by you. I’ll take care of you, always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sincerity.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are. That’s more than enough for me.”

Steve smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, squeezing his hand again. “But just so you know, I’m pretty good at taking care of myself too. So maybe we can take care of each other?”

Steve’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Deal.”

With a playful grin, you held up your pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, amused. “Pinky promise? Are we twelve?”

You smirked, undeterred. “Just humor me, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled and linked his pinky with yours. “Alright, pinky promise.”

You both shook on it, the moment feeling almost sacred in its simplicity. When your hands released, you shifted closer, resting your head on Steve’s chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe, as if nothing in the world could touch you as long as you were together.

“You know,” Steve said after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I’m pretty sure pinky promises are unbreakable.”

You grinned, your eyes still fixed on the stars above. “That’s the idea.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’ll never break it. I promise.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustling of the night breeze and the steady beat of Steve’s heart beneath your ear. The world below faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you under the vast expanse of the starry sky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence.

In that moment, everything felt right. The future, with all its uncertainties, seemed far away. All that mattered was the here and now, and the love you shared under the Brooklyn sky.

Present Day

Steve stood alone in the observation room, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. His thoughts were consumed by the memory you shared together, of the promises he had made and the promises he had failed to keep.

With a heavy sigh, he reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small, worn photograph. The edges were frayed from years of handling, and the image itself had started to fade, but it was still clear enough to see your smiling face. It was a picture taken long ago, back when things were simpler, back when the world hadn’t yet taken its toll on either of you.

In the photograph, you were laughing, your eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that had always made his heart skip a beat. You were leaning into him, and he had his arm around your shoulders, both of you looking so carefree, so happy. It was a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Steve’s thumb brushed over the image of your face, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. This photo had been his lifeline during the war, and later, in the years after he was thawed out, it had been his constant reminder of what he had lost.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the picture. He couldn’t reconcile the person in this photograph with the one he had fought against. It was like looking at two different people—one filled with love and warmth, and the other filled with anger and pain.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not when everything was on the line. But the pain was too much, the guilt too overwhelming. He had kept this photo with him through everything, as a reminder of what he was fighting for, of the life he wanted to get back to. But now, it only served as a cruel reminder of what he had failed to protect.

Steve sank into a nearby chair, his head bowed as he continued to stare at the photograph. The tears he had tried to hold back slipped down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. All he could do was sit there, lost in his grief, mourning the girl he had loved and the girl he had lost, even though you were still alive.

The photograph trembled in his hands as he struggled to hold onto it, to hold onto the memory of who you had been. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of what you had become. It haunted him, tearing at his heart, filling him with a despair so deep he wasn’t sure he could ever claw his way out.

× × × ×

0145 HRS

Steve walked back into the cell, the harsh fluorescent lights now turned on, casting cold, unyielding shadows on the walls. You were exactly where he and Tony had left you, your posture calm, almost unnervingly so. Your cuffed wrist rested on the table, fingers lightly drumming a rhythm that matched the distant hum of the Helicarrier’s engines.

Steve sat across from you, the silence between you stretching out like a chasm. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast unforgiving shadows on your face, but your expression remained indifferent, almost bored. You leaned back in the metal chair and watched Steve with a look that could only be described as disdainful amusement.

“So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He simply stared at you, his blue eyes searching for something—anything—familiar in your expression. But the person he had known, the person he had loved, was buried deep beneath the venom you now spewed.

“You’ve changed,” Steve said quietly.

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed in the small room. “Changed? Oh, you have no idea, Rogers. But then again, you were never very good at noticing the little details, were you? Too busy playing the hero, too busy saving the world to see the knife twisting in my back. Or was it your shield?”

“Y/N…” Steve began, his tone pleading, but you cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

“Save it,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing with malice. “You’re not here to save me, Steve. You’re here to soothe your guilty conscience. But don’t worry, I’ll make this easy for you—there’s nothing left to save. I’m not your little damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining spandex to swoop in and make everything better.”

Steve flinched at your words, the pain in his chest growing sharper with every vile sentence that left your lips. "I never saw you as someone who needed saving," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You were always strong, Y/N. You didn’t need me to be a hero for you."

"Spare me the heartfelt bullshit, Steve," you sneered, leaning forward in your chair, your eyes blazing with animosity. "You wanted to be the hero because it made you feel good, made you feel important. But where were you when I needed you? Off playing soldier, marching to the beat of your outdated ideals while I was left to rot in the dirt."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. You leaned back, your gaze cold and calculating, a twisted smile curling on your lips.

"You know," you continued, your tone almost conversational, "there’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone like you squirm. All that virtue, all that righteousness—it’s like watching a statue crumble. Beautiful, in a way. Don’t you think?"

Steve swallowed hard, his heart breaking as he listened to you tear into him with every word. But he didn’t waver. He couldn’t. "Y/N, whatever HYDRA did to you, we can fix it. We can help you."

"Help?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "The only thing you can do for me now is get out of my way. Or better yet, go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and stay there. You’ve done enough damage as it is."

"HYDRA twisted you, made you into something you’re not," Steve insisted, his voice growing firmer. "This isn’t who you are."

Suddenly, your eyes flashed with a fierce intensity as you leaned forward, your voice rising, "You think you know me? You think you understand what I’ve been through !? What you put me through!?" Your hands clenched into fists as you stood up and with a surge of strength, the metal cuffs binding your wrists snapped in half, the sound echoing through the cell.

Steve instinctively went on the defensive, his hand hovering over the duress button. The sudden shift in his posture—the instinct to guard himself against you—didn’t go unnoticed.

For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, your breaths heavy, your eyes locked on Steve. Then, slowly, a dark, humorless laugh bubbled up from your throat, filling the space between you.

"See?" you said, your voice laced with bitterness and scorn. "You’re no different from the rest of them. The moment I show you my true strength, you recoil like I’m some kind of beast. Because that’s all you see, isn’t it? A serum-made monster.”

You plopped yourself back into the chair, pulling the metal cuffs off of your wrist like it was a piece of paper and tossed them on the table with a clatter.

Steve’s eyes widened, shocked when you mentioned serum. "Y/N, don’t do this. You don’t have to be this person."

You stared at him for a long moment, your expression hardening. “You’re right,” you said, nodding, “I don’t have to be this person. But I choose to be. Because this world doesn’t deserve anything better.”

Steve’s heart sank as he realized just how far you had fallen, how deep the hatred and anger ran in your veins. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Sorry?” you echoed, your tone mocking. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Steve. Sorry doesn’t undo the years of pain, the betrayal, the lies. Sorry is just a word, a meaningless sound that people like you throw around to make themselves feel better.”

Steve stood up slowly, his movements heavy with the weight of your words. “I promised I’d always protect you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not giving up on that promise.”

You rolled your eyes, a look of pure contempt on your face. “How noble. But I’m not the girl you promised to protect, Steve. She’s dead. And the person sitting in front of you doesn’t need your protection.”

Steve sat there, unable to move, as the weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders. He had lost you, not just to HYDRA, but to the darkness that had taken root in your heart—a darkness that he had played a part in fostering.

“What do you want then?”

Your smile turned cold again, more sinister than before. "I want to watch this world burn. I want to see the so-called heroes fall, one by one. Starting with you."

With a heavy heart, Steve got up, seeing as there was no getting through to you. Steve’s expression hardened slightly, and as he turned to leave, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the cold metal handle.

Without looking back, he spoke, his voice steady, “A serum, huh? Thanks for the information.” with that the door closed behind Steve with a final, echoing thud.

The smile that had been twisted in mockery only moments before now faltered, the edges softening into something more conflicted.

You had let it slip.

You had revealed more than you intended—an error that was unlike you, and that fact alone gnawed at the edges of your mind. You had given Steve a piece of the puzzle, and that meant the game had changed.

Your lips curled back into a smirk, but it lacked the malice it once had. If Steve wanted to play the hero, to dig into the truth of what had happened to you, then let him try. Let him chase the shadows and secrets you had buried. But even as you tried to convince yourself that you still held the upper hand, the nagging doubt remained and it won't be leaving your head soon.

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barbiiecams · 10 months ago

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sugardaddy!rafe who’s also older than you omg… you’re around 20-21 while he’s 30. it’s not bad, but it’s definitely not something people saw coming. some people thought it was wrong with what was going on, others actually envied you. but none of that ever mattered. you’ve made him the happiest he’s been in a while and vice versa. everything is so perfect for you, because that’s the only thing rafe wants (and it keeps you happy of course.)

being the girl you are, you have a big thing for keeping in touch with the latest clothing. and when you set your eyes on that cartier love bracelet… best believe it was gonna be yours.

you gasped at the beautiful sight on your screen. just happening to be laid back on the couch, in your favorite robe, that was covering your lace lingerie, doing some online shopping, it came up on your screen.

falling in love weren’t even the words for how you felt. rafe was in his office doing whatever boring work he always does. he told you not to distract him too much, but this was a bracelet you HAD to have. so, you got up to go see if he was all that busy.

making your way with the macbook in your hands, you already can hear him yell at someone over the phone from down the hall.

“are you fucking dumb? i said you will pay me by TONIGHT. or you know what the consequences will be.” it seemed like his voice was getting louder each word.

“you’re not listening, man. i don’t give a shit if-” at this point, you’ve actually made it to the door. he’s pacing and fuming around the room, then he spots you. he holds up a finger, mouthing you to wait a minute. but this bracelet? couldn’t wait at all.

“it’s important!” you whisper-yell. he ignores you, and that makes you even more impatient. he still continues to pace, getting angrier at whatever’s being said on the other side of the phone.

knocking on the door to grab his attention again, he takes a deep breath. “if you don’t get that shit sent by 12 am, that’s your ass tomorrow morning.” rafe says in a lower tone, but still very stern voice. you felt bad to whoever he threatened. there’s never been a single time rafe hasn’t done what he said he’s going to do when it comes to hurting people.

he hangs up immediately after and motions for you to walk in as he sits back down. “you know i’m busy baby, what is it?”

you needed to butter him up a bit, simply because you could still see the smoke coming out from his ears. “are you okay, honey? i can tell youre still pretty upset.”

discreetly trying to set the macbook down with it angled as if it meant nothing, you then walked to the back of his chair where he sat and started rubbing his shoulders. of course, he relaxed at your touch.

“don’t worry about it babe. just stress work.” he sighs. you leaned down to kiss on his neck. his eyes are shut as he loves all this affection, but he chuckles.

“someone must want something.” he says.

“i can’t just love on my man?” you faked innocent.

“oh you do that enough, but i see the macbook you brought with you.” he responds. you gave him one last kiss.

“it’s just a little something i saw.”

“oh yea? how little is it?”

you reached over to pick up the laptop. opening it so he can fully see the screen, the gorgeous 18k gold band with diamonds all over it popped up.

“that’s real gorgeous baby.” his eyebrows raised.

“i know! wouldn’t it look so perfect on me?” you suggested.

“it would,” he started to pat his clothing for his wallet, “what will i get out of this though?” he teases.

“well, just imagine how much better my hands will look when i hold onto you, and how well it will look up close when i give you a blowie.” you reply seductively. for a second, it looks like he’s really trying to imagine it.

by now, you know he feels his wallet. but he likes to play with you at times. “i don’t know if you need it,”

“pleaseee rafey! i really do! haven’t got a new bracelet in soo long.” you started to beg.

“58,000 for this? shit i could buy you a new purse with that.�� he chuckles again. he could buy you purses worth a lot more than that but you know, who’s keeping track?

you took a seat on his lap and straddled him. “please? i’ll be such good girl. y’can use me however, whenever. doesn’t matter what you want. i would just love to have this bracelet though.” he was a fool for your doe eyes, so that was the weapon you were trying to use.

he just smirked in your face. the both of you knew he liked to hear you beg. “i don’t know..” he says which makes you internally flip out.

you threw your face in the crook of his neck and made it sound like you were getting emotional. “please rafe!! it’s so pretty.”

he lets out a laugh then starts stroking your back and swaying a little. “i’m just joking baby, of course you can have it.” that’s all you needed to hear to perk up again, and give him the deepest smooch.

“thank you, handsome.”

“you’re welcome, spoiled.” he says before slapping one of your cheeks. “gonna buy it right now, but i got some more work to do so i’ll be with you in a minute. want you stripped down with legs open, yea?”

whatever rafe says, most definitely goes. “yes, daddy.”

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keeryhours · 1 month ago

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real love, baby - chapter one

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You get some life changing news, and telling Billy doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, angst

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N:

Yay a new series! I’ve been dying to write for Billy again. I hope you guys like this, your comments and support mean the world to me.

When Billy had arrived at Hawkins High for the first time, roaring into the parking lot in his blue Camaro and wearing the tightest jeans known to man, he had caught the attention of every girl in school.

Including you.

You weren’t exactly…popular. Actually, you were considered a freak. Best friends with Eddie Munson and proud member of the Hellfire club, you caught a lot of shit from your classmates. You knew from the second you saw Billy Hargrove that you never had a chance.

You had never been more surprised to be wrong.

You knew Billy had a reputation for going through girls like crazy, sleeping with them and leaving them high and dry. Yet you still found yourself falling for him. And when he approached you and asked you out, you said yes embarrassingly fast.

“Asking you out” ended up being a late night trip to Lover’s Lake, making out before moving into the backseat and letting him fuck you. That might sound crude, but there was no better way to describe it. It certainly wasn’t making love.

Your late night visits with Billy became a regular thing. It was kept quiet - Billy didn’t tell anyone, and he acted like he didn’t know you at school. The only person who knew was Eddie, because he was your best friend in the world and you told him everything. He did not approve, but he wasn’t about to tell you how to live your life. He was just scared you’d get hurt.

Which, of course, you inevitably did. But we’ll get to that.

You held out hope that one day Billy might see you as more than a secret hookup, that he might take you out on an actual date and show you off at school, but you knew those were just dreams. Deep down, you knew Billy was embarrassed to be seen with you. He showed up at Hawkins High and became the most popular guy in school - he wasn’t about to let anyone know he was secretly sleeping with The Freak.

This routine worked out for a while. That is, until you had the realization you had skipped your period while you were throwing your guts up before school one morning. Ice cold fear struck into your heart, and you realized you had really fucked up.

That day you went to school looking nearly as bad as you felt. Carol Perkins giggled as you passed her in the hallway, whispering something to Heather Holloway. You had too much on your mind to care. Billy gave you a strange look when he saw you, but didn’t say anything.

You found Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant at your usual spot in the cafeteria. You walked over and took a seat, not even bothering to get anything to eat because it would just come back up anyway.

Eddie did a double take when he saw you. “Jesus,” he said, taking in your messy hair, bloodshot eyes and melancholy expression. “What happened to you?”

The other guys were deep in conversation about the latest campaign. You leaned closer to Eddie. “I skipped my period. And now I’m getting sick.”

Eddie just blinked at you. He looked like he didnt understand - you saw the moment the realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking down at the table. “Oh, shit.”

“Did you…take a test?” Eddie whispered, leaning in closer to you.

“No.” You picked at a loose string on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I figured I would go to the doctor so I don’t fuck it up.”

Eddie looked around the cafeteria before his eyes landed on you again. “Do you want me to take you?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “You would do that?”

Eddie smiled. “Well, yeah, of course. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna make you go alone.”

You felt relieved to hear that. This was scary enough without having to go through it all alone. “I don’t know how I would have even made it there by myself without alerting my parents anyway.”

“Eddie Munson chauffeur, at your service,” he said with a bow. You snorted.

“Thanks, Eds.”

That evening after school you rushed home before your parents could get there and picked up the phone. You dialed the number for your primary care doctor’s office with shaking hands and made the appointment, not telling the receptionist over the phone what it was for. You figured you’d deal with that when you got there.

The next day passed in a blur. You looked presentable at least, but you had to leave class twice to go throw up in the bathroom. Billy gave you a concerned look when he saw you in the hallway again, but you ignored him.

After school you met Eddie at his van. He opened the passenger side door for you - “My lady,” he said with a dramatic bow - before jumping in the driver’s seat and starting up the old vehicle. You noticed Billy watching you from his Camaro where he waited for his younger sister.

Eddie blasted music over the radio while you drove. It made you feel better because you weren’t in the mood for conversation. The butterflies in your stomach made you feel like you could throw up again. You took deep breaths as he drove to keep the nausea under control. Eddie always drove like a maniac.

He pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, some older ladies standing by their cars giving you a dirty look as the van tore into the parking lot blasting Metallica. Eddie didn’t notice.

He walked with you into the office, taking a seat in the waiting room while you went to reception to check in. You gave the receptionist your name, and she handed you a clipboard and pen and told you to take a seat.

The questions on the forms were standard. Your personal information, health history, medications, etc. By the time you finished with it, a nurse was opening the door and calling your name. Eddie squeezed your knee before you stood, letting you know he was here for support and would be right where you left him.

The nurse had you do the usual tasks - your weight and height, pee in a cup, and they took some blood samples. You waited in the exam room for the doctor, kicking your feet as you sat on the tall table. You felt more like a child than you had in the past few years.

When the doctor walked in carrying a clipboard and saying your name, you felt like you could throw up for the millionth time. He looked at you solemnly, and you knew it wasn’t going to be good news.

“Your pregnancy test came back positive,” he said. “Based on your bloodwork, I would estimate you at about 6 weeks.”

The room spun around you. You suddenly felt way too hot and claustrophobic in this tiny room. You wished you had asked Eddie to come back with you. You felt incredibly dizzy, like you could pass out. This was not happening. It was not happening.

“You’ll need to start taking prenatal vitamins,” he continued, oblivious to your internal panic. “I’ll give you some brochures with information and resources.”

You left the doctor’s office with a handful of pamphlets on pregnancy, birth, babies, and motherhood. Your face was white as a ghost, and Eddie clocked it the second you walked back into the waiting room.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, standing as you approached him and wrapping you in a tight hug. The tears fell as you buried your face in his chest. He stroked your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out. You’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie helped you walk back out to the van on shaking legs. You couldn’t stop the tears now. Your life was over. Billy was never going to want to stick around for this.

Oh, god. Billy.

You didn’t even want to tell him. It was going to be a disaster. He was already embarrassed for anyone to know you were hooking up, but for the whole school to know he had gotten you pregnant? He would never allow that.

You were on your own.

Fuck.

You wanted to skip school, but your parents weren’t buying the “I’m sick” excuse. Of course it was the one morning you weren’t throwing up everything you’d eaten the night before. You got yourself together as much as you could, dressing yourself in a band tee and your favorite ripped jeans.

Eddie stayed by your side as much as he could at school. He met you in front of the school and walked you inside to your first class. You were grateful for his support.

It was halfway through first period when the nausea hit you again. Your hand shot up, asking “Can I go to the restroom?” and then sprinting out of the room before you even got a response. You barely made it to the bathroom in time, locking yourself in a stall and falling to your knees as you threw up.

When you were done, your eyes were watering. You grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your face, flushing the toilet and standing up shakily. You straightened your clothes and unlocked the stall door, walking out into the bathroom.

Only to see Carol Perkins, of all people.

She gave you a smug smile, tucking some of her curls behind her ear. “Hope you feel better, Freak.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed past her back into the hall, but you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach, the voice in your head telling you this is very, very bad.

You were surprised that nothing seemed to come of it as you moved on to your next classes. By the time you went to lunch, you were wondering if maybe she just kept it to herself for once.

That bubble was popped by Gareth Emerson.

The second you and Eddie placed your trays down at your usual spots, all the boys looked up at you. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant all looked at you with pity, which made your stomach twist into knots.

“…What?” You asked hesitantly, your blood running cold.

Gareth looked at Eddie, then back to you. “Uh…Carol Perkins is telling everyone you’re pregnant.”

If you weren’t already nauseous, you certainly were now. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your hands gripped onto your tray tightly as you tried to focus and calm yourself, but it wasn’t working. Your breaths were coming in shorter, like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

The feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing your arm brought you out of it. His rings were cold against your skin, grounding you to reality. Your reality wasn’t that great, though.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Jeff asked.

“It’s not…true, is it?” Gareth asked, his eyebrows raised.

You burst into tears. You couldn’t help it. You covered your face with your hands, crying your eyes out. This seriously could not be happening like this. You knew it would come out eventually - I mean, you could only hide it for so long - but you weren’t ready for it now. You’d only had one night to wrap your head around it yourself.

“Oh god,” Gareth said. “It is true.”

Eddie pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back and giving Gareth a dirty look over the top of your head. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed into his shirt. “Everyone knows. That means Billy’s heard. The whole school has heard. My life here was shitty enough, this is a whole other level.”

“Wait, Billy?” Gareth said, exchanging a look with Jeff and Grant. “Billy Hargrove?”

Eddie gave him another look. He stroked your hair, the soothing gesture helping to calm your racing heart. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Billy flicked the ash off his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. He leaned against his car, talking with Tommy Hagan. He was just about to leave when Carol came walking over, smiling like she knew something they didn’t.

“Hey baby,” Tommy greeted her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Have you guys heard?” Carol asked, like she couldn’t wait to say whatever she knew. Billy wasn’t particularly interested, dragging on his cigarette one more time.

Tommy took the bait, however. “About what?”

When it was your name that came out of Carol’s mouth, it grabbed Billy’s attention fully. He glanced up at Carol nonchalantly, but he was listening intently.

“What about that Freak?” Tommy asked with a laugh.

Carol giggled. “She’s pregnant. I caught her throwing up in the bathroom during first period.”

Billy felt sick to his stomach. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with his boot. “No way that’s true.”

“Why?” Carol asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Billy.

Because you would have told him, right? And he always used a condom. There was no way. “That Freak? No way she’s getting any action.”

Carol and Tommy laughed like Billy had said the funniest thing they’d ever heard. “I don’t know though,” Carol said, “Tina said she’s been running out of class to go to the bathroom all week. She’s definitely knocked up. It’s probably Munson’s. Two freaks in love.” Carol giggled, and Tommy started laughing again.

Billy forced himself to laugh, but nothing was funny. He wanted to throw up himself. “Hey, I left something in my locker. I’ll see you guys later.” He pushed off his car and walked back into the school.

He had to find you. He had to find out what the hell was going on.

You closed your locker as you got the last book you needed for your homework. You had waited until most of your classmates had left, the hallway deserted. The looks from your classmates all day had been enough. You shoved your stuff into your backpack, preparing to leave to meet Eddie at his van.

As you were walking down the hall, the doors opened and you saw Billy walking towards you. You felt like turning and running the other way. As he reached you, he nodded towards an empty classroom.

You thought about ignoring him, about leaving and letting Eddie take you home and maybe transferring schools and never seeing any of these people again. Instead, you followed him into the classroom.

Inside the empty room, Billy was pacing, running his hand through his dirty blonde curls. Your stomach hurt as you closed and locked the door behind you. When you reached him Billy spun on you, his eyes wild.

“Are you pregnant?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. This was not how you wanted him to find out. You thought you’d have more time, time to think about what to say and how exactly to break the news. Fucking Carol Perkins.

“Yes,” you said, opening your eyes to look at Billy.

He looked horrified. “You’re- it- it’s…mine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

Billy let out a rush of air. He started combing his fingers through his mullet again, pacing back and forth in front of you. “I- we- there’s just no fucking way. I used a condom every time.”

“Condoms can fail, Billy-“

“Bullshit,” he said. “I mean, yeah, but it’s so rare. There’s…there’s no fucking way you’re- pregnant with my kid.”

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with,” you reminded him, your voice small. You knew you weren’t the only girl he slept with. “And I went to the doctor. They did blood work. I’m definitely…pregnant.” The word was still hard to say.

Billy shook his head. “You- this is fucking insane. I’m not raising some kid.”

Your stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” he breathed out another rush of air. “I’m not doing this. Whatever you want from me, I’m not doing it. I’m not ruining my life to raise a kid.”

The tears welled up in your eyes. “So you’re saying you’re abandoning us.”

Billy scoffed. “‘Abandoning.’ I have more to live for than this. I was gonna…I was gonna get out of here.” He laughed humorlessly. “I was gonna get the fuck out of this shithole town. I was gonna go back to California. I…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’ll give you money for an abortion, I’ll take you to get it, whatever. But I’m not doing this.”

And with that he left, slamming the classroom door behind him and leaving you alone.

The tears really fell then. It was worse than you imagined. You were really all alone in this. Just you…and your baby.

On your own.

tag list

@rincallistis

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wrttenbyhan · 25 days ago

Text

dear future husband..

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :

annoyed!fem reader x soon to be fiancé!han jisung

𝐚/𝐧 :

my first oneshot 🤍

“love, you're making this difficult,”

a groan lingers in the back of han's throat, although he stifles it inside for his sake.

your heels tap on the ground with a fierce pace, eyes narrowed, keeping your back turned on him.

“nessa, come on, baby,”

he hesitates to pull you back, but he decides to grab onto your purse's string, stopping you in your tracks.

“why are you like this? what'd i do?”

you spun around,

“you're late! this isn't the first time you've done this to our dates, han.”

well, how would you not be frustrated? you dolled up for hours and he shows up an hour late.

“i’m sorry, angel, something.. came up at work,”

han internally curses at himself. he got too carried away looking at rings and flowers, thinking it's only six o’ clock. how's he gonna propose when you're mad at him?

you sigh and repeat his last word out loud.

han can immediately tell from the tone of your voice that you clearly don't believe him. he hesitates to respond further, knowing damn well you'll get more annoyed.

“yeah,”

he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“i had something to do urgently, and i got held back.”

truthfully, he wanted to ask the florist on which bouquet's the best to give to you and the jeweller on the right ring, but you don't need to know that yet.

“you say that all the time,”

you say, before tugging onto your purse so your boyfriend lets go,

“i can't believe you anymore.”

han grits his teeth at your comment. you weren’t wrong though, he does say that excuse a lot..

“i really did, i swear. we had a meeting about our latest album.”

he knows you wouldn’t believe him either way, but he tries to sound convincing. he just needed to make you believe him somehow so that you and him can go on your date and end the day on a good note before he proposed on the next day.

“but this isn't the first time this has happened.”

“i know.. i-”

han heaves a long sigh. he knows how frustrated you are, and he's frustrated at himself too. why couldn’t he have just double checked the time?

he takes a few steps closer to you, gently rubbing comforting circles around your arms.

“i’m really sorry, i didn’t mean to make you this mad..”

“are you cheating on me?”

you say, the question just spilling out of your mouth. you audibly hear han gasp,

“what?”

his mouth drops at your question, eyes widening.

“of course not! i’d never do that to you..”

he’s completely shocked that you'd even ask that. it’s the last thing he would ever do to you, cheat on you. even the thought of it just sickens him.

“then what are you doing that’s making you late all the time? because it’s not work.”

“i-”

he hesitates and internally panics. he can’t just tell you yet, he has to come up with a random excuse.

“it’s just work, i swear!”

he knows it’s a terrible excuse, but he has no choice. if he told you the real reason, it’d ruin the surprise.. and ruin his proposal for tomorrow.

“fine..”

you sigh, before dragging him along to the car. han takes your hand in his, intertwining fingers, and heads out of his apartment and into the car. he helps you into the passenger seat before hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the vehicle.

the entire car ride was pretty silent, a comfortable one though. he glances over at you from time to time. you still look mad, and he mentally curses at himself.

“han, you idiot, make her happy,”

is what he said to himself in his mind.

as he stops the car at the parking lot, he immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. he hurries around the car to open your door for you.

he helps you out of the car and shuts the door close before taking your hand in his again.

“come on.”

with that, he slowly walks beside you into the restaurant, still holding onto your hand.

as you both entered and were escorted to a table, han quietly pulls back your chair from the table before gesturing you to take a seat. he pushes the chair back closer to the table before sitting down into his own seat across from you.

he grabs the menu and looks over the options, although he’a not actually thinking of what to order. he’s too focused on your mood instead.

he sneaks a few glances at you as you scan your eyes over the menu. he’s still upset over the fact you thought he’d cheat on you. how could you even think that? he loves you more than anything in this world, and he could never, ever do that to you.

han notices you set the menu down and fold your arms across your chest, now looking out of the window. you still don’t look too happy, and it breaks his heart seeing you like that. he hates himself for messing up this date with you.

he sighs, folding his own menu and setting it beside the other. he reaches a hand out to take yours on the table, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“can you look at me?”

he asks gently,

“please.”

“hm?”

he pouts at your emotionless response, and he continues to rub your knuckles.

“please, look at me..”

he repeats, a slight desperate tone in his voice. he just wants you to look at him. you ask him why, and he only just sighs louder. that stung. he’s not expecting that response. he tries his best to keep his calm, although that comment hurt him.

he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“i want you to look at me because i hate it when you’re mad at me..”

you look anywhere but at his eyes. you end up staring at the menu, saying,

“i’m not mad at you.”

yet it was clear you were annoyed with him because you said it with sass and attitude. han raises an eyebrow at your comment, not believing you. you’re still not looking at him, and he knows you’re definitely mad.

“love, you’re definitely mad. you just won’t admit it.”

you look up at him, groaning and rolling your eyes. he almost let out a sigh of relief when you finally looked at him. the sight of your eyes made his heart skip a beat.

he holds your hand gently, intertwining his fingers with yours and rubbing circles around your knuckles.

“finally..”

he smiles, trying to act casually and hide his relief.

“there’s that pretty face of yours,”

he mutters quietly as he looks at you, staring into your eyes.

he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles,

“and there’s those beautiful eyes i love seeing..”

he looks at you expectantly, studying your expression closely. he can tell you’re still upset with him, but he doesn’t want to mention anything that might worsen the mood.

“are you.. still mad at me?”

he asks in a hesitant tone, afraid of your response. you shake your head and he grins, and you find yourself grinning back.

his heart flutters in relief and he lets out a breath as he gently massages your knuckle, feeling overjoyed that you’re no longer upset.

“good..”

he mumbles blissfully. curious, you ask him what he's going to order.

“hm?”

he glances at you, surprised by your random question.

“oh uh, i’ll just have the steak, rare.”

he answers, his thoughts elsewhere. he’s wondering how he’s gonna propose later.

“how about you?”

you hesitate, knowing that he'll probably tease you for choosing yet again,

“the pasta.”

as expected, han scoffs and chuckles, his hand squeezing yours.

“you’re getting pasta again?”

he teased you since you always ordered pasta when both of you went to a restaurant. you blush in embarrassment and nod. you then looked at the menu again, trying to see if there was anything that piqued your interest.

“i could have the fish.. or the potatoes.”

he hums, trying to picture you eating fish or potatoes.

“you know you’re gonna end up ordering pasta again.”

he comments, and he’s correct, most likely. after a good two minutes, you sigh and look up at han, who was still smirking from ear to ear.

“can.. can i just have the pasta?”

“if that’s what you really want..”

he grins, knowing you’d never ever change off the pasta.

“at least you’ll be happy with your decision.”

he lets go of one of your hands and motions for a waiter. a waiter makes his way to your table, the man smiling politely as he pulls out a pen and notepad.

han turns to the waiter and says,

“we’d like to order now.”

“i’ll have the steak, rare. and she’ll have the pasta.”

he tells the waiter.

they nod and jots down the orders, looking up at both of you.

“will that be all?”

“yes, we’re done for now,”

he replies, nodding slightly at the waiter.

they smile once again.

“your orders will be ready in a while. thank you.”

with that, the man walks away.

he turns back to you, looking at you again. he takes your hand in his again, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“you know i’m right.”

he points out, a hint of a playful smirk crossing his features.

“you’re not gonna change your mind, because you always choose pasta.”

you giggle and tell him to shut up. but then your attention immediately goes to a man going down on one knee to his girlfriend. he watches the couple from the other table in a corner of his eye, seeing the man taking out a small velvet box and holding it out to his girlfriend. han feels slightly envious of their moment, as it’s only a matter of time before his own proposal begins.

he hums, still watching the couple in envy. He’s wondering how he’s going to pull off his own proposal later at night.

“they look happy,”

he comments quietly, still studying the couple. the man is now holding the girlfriend’s hand as he slides the ring on her finger.

“aww!”

you mumble, while the man embraces the now-engaged woman, both of them sharing a soft kiss.

han’s heart aches slightly in jealousy of the couple as he watches them. he suddenly wonders how you’ll react to his own proposal.

you whisper to han,

“she’s crying, that's so adorable!”

he nods his head in agreement with your statement, focusing on the engaged couple.

“it is cute,”

he muses, continuing to watch their moment. He looks at their happy faces and wishes for his own proposal to be a success.

“i wonder if you’ll cry too when i propose to you…”

he mumbles to himself, watching as the man helps his newly-engaged woman up from her chair and holding her in his arms.

“or maybe you won’t cry, and you’ll simply just look at me in shock.. like how you did when i first confessed to you..”

he smiles slightly at the memory of your surprised face when he confessed to you.

it was now the morning of the big day. han was going to propose to you today.

he was woken up by the sunlight streaming through the curtains. he blinks his eyes open, the sunlight slightly blinding him. he sits up in the bed, the sheets pooling around his lap. his eyes scan around the bedroom, landing on you, who was still asleep.

he takes a moment to admire you in your slumber, seeing your peaceful face and your slowly rising chest.

he then glances at the digital clock on the bedside. six am. another hour, and he’ll propose to you. he can already feel his heart rate quicken in anticipation.

he lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm down his racing heart. he looks at you once more, seeing your eyes still shut.

quietly, he slowly slips out of bed and pads across the carpet to the bathroom. he flicks on the light and closes the door softly.

he turns to the mirror, his eyes landing on his own reflection. he takes in his appearance, seeing his disheveled hair, and his slightly swollen eyes.

“you look nervous,”

he thinks to himself, trying to compose himself. he splashes cold water on his face and tries to calm down.

he grabs a towel off the rack and starts drying his face. he takes a few more breaths, taking the time to calm down from his nervousness.

he’s nervous, but he’s also excited to finally make you his fiancé and future wife.

the thought of what is to come floods into han’s mind.

“what if she says no? what if she hates the ring? what if she doesn’t want to marry me yet?”

his brain is suddenly filled with negative thoughts, and he tries to get rid of them. a cold feeling washes over him at the thought of you saying no to him.

“calm down,”

he tells himself, don’t overthink it. he glances at the mirror again, looking at his reflection once more.

he looks a little shaky and a bit pale, so he splashes his face with cold water again. he’s trying to calm down, but the thought of you rejecting him is constantly looping his mind,

“you’re just overthinking, he reassures himself, she’s not going to say no. you both already talked about getting married someday..”

he tries to stop his anxious thoughts but just the mere idea of you saying no is eating him up inside.

he lets out another shaky breath, trying to push the negative thoughts away. he forces on a small smile and tells himself everything will be okay.

“you’re going to propose, and she’s going to say yes. you’ll get engaged that night, and she’ll love the ring. it’s gonna be fine. you’ve been together for years, and she’s madly in love with you..”

han slowly steps out of the bathroom, his mind still racing with thoughts.

he approaches the bed and sits on the edge, looking at your sleeping form once again.

“babe,”

he calls out quietly, gently shaking your shoulder. he continues gently shaking your shoulder, trying to wake you up.

“babe..”

he repeats, his voice soft so he doesn’t startle you. your eyes flutter open and you sit up, rubbing your eyes and squinting. han couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were, your messy hair all over the place and how you struggled to get up.

“morning, love,”

he says gently.

“sorry to wake you,”

he apologizes as his words register in your sleepy head. you smile tiredly and puckered your lips at him. he chuckles and obediently pecks your lips and buried his head into your neck.

“i have a surprise for you,”

he suddenly whispers it into your ear, gently biting the crook of your neck, arms slowly wrapping around your waist. his breath feels heavy and hot.

without a word to protest, han pulls you towards the balcony, your steps following his as he guides you.

the night breeze was fresh, a little chilly. the sky was clear and a hint of the moonlight seeps into the balcony.

he slowly tugs you by the railing. you feel han behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. he rubs your sides and you look behind yourself, seeing his beautiful face. he smiles and you ask him,

“what’s the surprise?”

“just.. stay still and just close your eyes,”

he softly kisses your cheek as he gently commands you to shut your eyes. he's being strangely careful,

“no peeking..”

he flips around so that you're facing him. he gently places your hands over your eyes and whispers,

“keep still, honey.”

he hugs you from behind for a few seconds, rubbing your hips to relax you, but mostly to relax himself.

he moves away, letting his warmth leave your body, going in front you. you can hear his ragged breathing, and a whisper. a click of his tongue.

then, you feel his presence before you. he was knelt down on one knee, facing you now.

“you can open your eyes now, angel..”

his voice was soft. your eyes were met with his, his soft brown hues staring into your soul, a smile playing in the corners of his lips. a shaky breath leaves his lips.

he's holding a small black velvet box, holding on to it anxiously. you gasp and han chuckled at your reaction, taking a shaky breath, fiddling with the box.

“i didn’t think it would take me so much courage..”

he slowly opens the box, revealing a diamond ring to you, sparkling under the moonlight.

“i..”

he can feel his heart hammering against his chest, sweat coating his skin. he can’t find the words, but he tries anyway, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i’ve been in love with you since the day i met you. i don’t ever wanna lose you. i can’t live.. and i don't want to live without you,”

he can feel nervousness bubble up within him, his body tense.

“i don’t want to be just your boyfriend anymore.. i want more..”

he gently grabs one of your hands, holding it tightly, his thumb stroking the back of it.

he takes another shaky breath in, his brown eyes locking with yours intently.

“i want to marry you…”

he lets the words hang in the air, the night suddenly falling deadly silent. it was only you and him, alone. he nervously awaits your response, breath caught within his throat, his eyes filled with desperation.

“will you.. marry me, angel?”

you find yourself choked up in tears. you sob and han was taken aback by your sudden reaction, watching a tear roll down your cheek, your hand slightly trembling within his grasp.

his eyes widen a little bit, his heart suddenly aching, as he waited for your answer. he says to himself in the back of his mind,

“please say yes..”

you stare at han on the ground for you. he looks up and you, concerned, awaiting your answer. you nod and blurt out,

“yes!”

a sigh of relief escaped his lips. a shaky breath.

a genuine smile slowly pulls its way up and takes over his features, his eyes lighting up, his lips trembling. he gingerly takes the ring out of the box and slowly slides it onto your finger.

“you’re mine..”

he whispers, his voice cracking a little. he stood up and pulled you into his chest, his arms caging you.

he could hear your cries against his chest, his hands gently tracing over your back, his chin resting on top of your head.

“you’re crying.. why are you crying, angel? every time i see you cry, i..”

he softly mumbled, his own tears stopping him from finishing the sentence. he embraces you firmly against his frame, his warmth enveloping you. you choke out,

“i’m just so happy..”

han held you a little closer, his nose nuzzling against the top of your head, his hand gently caressing your back. He lets out another shaky breath, a sigh of relief.

“so you really are mine now.. my fiancé..”

the word falling off his mouth was like honey to your ears.

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torturedtypewritersdept · 1 month ago

Text

blue eyes + bruises - part one

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

m.list

—

Sarah doesn't have lunch often with her brother, but she does today, placing the responsibility of taking care of him on herself, as she always does. Her latest manifestation of this fact is you – her best friend since her college days. He doesn’t know it, but she’s coming to him with a proposition; your sweetness and his intelligence – she knows they’d meld together like a puzzle and that’s precisely why she’s set up a date between the two of you for this evening. She enters the hospital cafeteria slowly, spotting him from across the gigantic space. His shoulders are slumped and she clocks a limp in his step, instantly sure he’s been on his feet for far too long. She smiles softly as they lock eyes and notices his are far more sunken in than she’d like them to be; in fact, they almost resemble the dark black holes of a skull missing its skin and as he makes his way feverishly through the cafeteria line, she wonders if he’s okay.

“Rafe – you look like you haven’t eaten in six days.”

She scolded as the older Cameron made his way to the table and sat his tray down across from her.

“I eat.”

He grunted in response, rolling his blue orbs into the back of his head at her incessant need to pick him apart in the form of worry. This was why he didn’t return to North Carolina after college, after all. Though he couldn’t in part blame it all on his baby sister, the discontent of his father and the enthralling energy of the city had wooed him and his bride.

“Yeah, okay, hot shot.”

She replied, laughing, throwing a french fry in his direction.

“You’re gonna be mad but I've promised your hand to someone for the evening.”

She said, giggling.

“Dammit, Sarah!”

He replied, the huff that escaped like that of an agitated dog.

“Come on, big brother! Please – she’s my sweet friend from college and she’s nice and shy and she –”

“I don’t care. I’m not going.”

Rafe interjected aggressively.

“Well, too fucking bad. I already told her you agreed and I’d really hate it if you stood her up. It was like pulling teeth to get her to agree to even give you a chance.”

“Too. Fucking. Bad.”

He gritted out.

“No – don’t play with me, I know you. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things, but he isn’t cruel and it took a lot of convincing for her to come out anyways, so please.”

Squinting her eyes in annoyance and shaking her head, she waged her war with him blatantly, tired of his bullshit only five minutes into the conversation in only a way that he could ignite.

“Tell that to Molly. She thinks I am.”

He whispered.

“No she didn’t – doesn’t.”

She caught herself, two years later still not used to talking about her sister-in-law in past tense.

“Just go – please. Get out of this hospital and those fucking ugly scrubs.”

She pleaded, her soft blue eyes always something he had to give into.

“Fine, Sarah, I’ll fucking go.”

He growled, jerking his plate closer to him as he began munching on the chicken tenders that sat in front of him.

—

Rafe was dreading this date, he didn’t know you or what you were even like and let’s be honest, he hasn’t dated in literal years, hasn’t even given it a thought. After Molly departed from him, he ate, slept, and breathed life in the hospital, too afraid to be in his home alone – too afraid the silence and lack of love would swallow him home; death by a thousand cuts. He felt like that was probably normal for the situation he had found himself in; divorce in the form of death. He stared at himself in the mirror of the locker room, being sure he was ready as his hand tousled through his unruly hair.

“Sarah’s right – I do look like shit.”

He muttered, suddenly wondering what this unknown woman would think of him.

He made his way down the linoleum lined hallway and out of the hospital door a few moments later, the familiar red shine of ambulance lights just out of his peripheral and the screech of the alarm coming from the rig coming to a stop. He watched carefully as they pulled a young woman from the back, her limbs splinted and blood covering her. He wasn't sure what it was; fate or an uneasy stomach, these days he hardly had the capacity to tell the difference. But, whatever the force behind it, she pulled him toward her and as he got close, the date he had planned for suddenly slipped his mind.

—

Everything hurt – that was the first thing your brain registered as you pulled your eyes open, the sound of a siren and the beat of your heart blaring simultaneously in your ears. The siren was close, you could tell, but you seemed so distant from it at the same time, so far away and fleeting. You closed your eyes, the darkness overcoming you. It only felt like they had been closed for five seconds, but you were sure it had been longer as you heard the sound of a man’s voice and felt wind around you, signaling your brain that you were moving by the sound of rickety wheels beneath you. The man sounded handsome and kind, his voice deep as it bellowed in the air around you.

“What do we got?”

He asked with urgency, looking pointedly at the paramedics, a team of doctors surrounding him.

“25 year old female, car accident. She went through the windshield – crush injuries, concussion, internal bleeding – she’s barely hanging on.”

He gingerly nodded at the words of the paramedic and brought a pen light from his pocket, pulling your eyelids back and shining it into them. A groan escaped your lips at the intrusion.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

His voice penetrated your ears and for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain pulled your eyes open, fighting to get to whoever the voice belonged. As you took in the blue eyes that stood over you, you registered who the voice belonged to – sounds and words you could barely register coming from his mouth again.

“I’m Dr. Rafe Cameron, I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

He spoke, sliding his hand in yours, giving you a kind smile.

“Can you squeeze my hand, for me?”

Your senses weren’t intact, numbness infiltrated your being but you could feel his calloused hand as it slipped into yours and with all the energy that remained in your body, you squeezed his hand weakly. He smiled – bright and breathtakingly beautiful, teeth so perfectly in line that you were sure he had orthodontic work at some point. You noticed the crinkles by his eyes as his lips parted and his lips turned up. You suddenly regretted not shaving your legs this morning, taking in his handsomely sculpted jaw as he turned his head sideways, stretching his hands across you. You were unsure what was happening until you felt him unhooking the straps that you now realized were draped across your body, securing you to the bed you laid on.

“Move her on three – one, two, three.”

He chanted out, voice bellowing as his words controlled the move of every person in the room. You weren’t sure what kind of doctor Rafe was, but you knew he was important, that he was a leader, as every nurse and bystander operated under his sole instruction. You closed your eyes as the hands of the people around you lifted you from one bed to another, the jostling of your body breaking through the heavy cloud of numbness and what started as a whimper but quickly turned into a full-fledged bloody murder scream escaped your lips.

“Easy, sweetheart. I know it hurts.”

His hands made their way to your hair, pushing the blood-stained strands away from your forehead. His touch was gentle and calming, you had never been touched by a doctor like this, you thought to yourself.

“R-Rafe?”

You croaked out, eyes pleading.

“Hmm?”

He questioned with all his attention on you. His blue eyes raked over your form, studying your face, taking in the distress and the pain that laced it.

“Gonna die?”

You questioned, mumbling, incoherently and before he could even respond your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arching off the bed as you your body shook into a fit of convulsions.

“She’s crashing!”

One of the nurses yelled out.

“We’ve got to get her to the OR now, get me a neuro consult and page Dr. Richardson, I have no doubt in my mind she’s hemorrhaging.”

As soon as he muttered out the words, Rafe was straddling you on the gurney, legs on either side of your hips as his palms laid flat against your chest, fingers interlocking with each other as he violently, urgently pressed up and down in an attempt to restart your heart.

“Not today, sweet girl. Not today.”

He whispered, continuing chest compressions as the nurses and doctors wheeled the gurney the two of you were on into the operating room.

—

masterlist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafecore #doctor!rafe #doctor!rafe cameron #doctor!rafe x reader #blue eyes + bruises

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 5 months ago

Text

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: …whoops

Notes: Guys I’m posting this while at the salon, my hair is processing it’s gonna be b l u e

Day 1: Public Sex

“I’m telling you man-” Buck puts his arms up on the edge of the pool and Eddie rolls his eyes “You just gotta get laid”

Eddie had been on edge lately, everyone had noticed it, after his latest fling had fizzled out he’d been hitting the gym more, hitting the bar more. Hell, he’d even started going to the library again.

He was this close to taking up bungee jumping.

“I don’t need-“

“Don’t even start” Buck puts his hands up “Literally do not. I swear to god you’re gonna burst at any second if you don’t just get some”

Eddie sighs “You know, sex doesn’t actually solve everything?”

“Oh, but it sure as fuck would this time” He winks and Eddie rolls his eyes again, crossing his arms over his chest as he puts his back against the wall.

“You know that’s not me dude… I’m not- I’m not a one-night stand kind of-“

“We’re here!!”

Both boys look up to see Tommy walking in through the house, Buck immediately gets up and swims over to the stairs.

“Hey gorgeous,” Buck says as he gets out, coming over to Tommy. Tommy takes his chin in his fingers, pulling him forward and giving him a little peck on the lips with a wink.

“Oh fucking gag”

A voice comes from behind him and Buck pulls away, giddy as ever

“Hi Y/N”

“Hi Ev- Buck” She corrects herself as she steps out of Tommy’s ginormous shadow.

Eddie comes out of the pool now, the water cascading down his body, he shakes out his hair and smoothes it back.

Buck looks at Tommy. Tommy looks at Buck.

“Hey Eddie, c’mere I want you to meet someone”

He steps aside and holds his arms out, presenting you to Eddie, he gives Tommy a nod, who rolls his eyes and does the same thing.

“Tada,” He says sarcastically and Eddie shakes his head, chuckling as he walks over.

“Eddie Diaz” He holds his hand out and you smile, shaking it

“Y/N Kinard. I’m-“

“Tommy’s little sister!!!” Buck squeals and puts his arm around Eddie.

“Jesus Christ” Tommy mutters under his breath as he grabs Buck by the arm and pulls him off of Eddie.

“She’s staying with me, I thought it’d be nice if she came to hang out with us!”

“If you don’t mind” You pipe up and Tommy has to fight to keep Buck from going feral

“Oh no! Of course, I don’t come on I’ll show you where to put your stuff” Eddie reaches for your pool bag and you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing a little as he leads you over to the pool chairs.

“Evan- Evan you have to-“ Tommy puts his hands on Buck's shoulders as he’s nearly bouncing out of his shorts.

“Evan let it happen, it’s gotta be organic okay? We’ve done our part”

“So I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t play my baby-making playlist?” He shakes his head and Tommy shakes his head with him

“No babe, no you shouldn’t”

Eddie sets your bag down on the pool chair and you smile up at him, he knows what the guys are doing god does he know.

But fuck if you’re not the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. He’s surprised you’re even related to Tommy you’re so… petite. You’ve gotta be a good foot shorter than he is and god the way your curves fill out that swimsuit.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly “I know you probably like wanted a boys thing and-“

“Oh no! No, I’m glad you decided to come!” He puts his hands on your arms and you blush, he pulls his hands back quickly and copies your stance, rubbing the back of his neck

“I’m uh- I'm glad you’re here…Do you- do you have sunscreen? Gotta… make sure you’re all… sun protected”

You snicker a little and turn away from him to go through your bag and he nearly pulls his hair out as he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning to himself. He’s never this fucking awkward around women.

“You think Tommy would let me go anywhere without it?” You joke as you stand back up “Did you need some?”

“Uh no- no I’m covered but um- I can-‘I can get your back for you if you’d like” He offers as he puts his hand out and you shrug, pouring some into it.

“Thanks”

“Mhm!!” His voice is high-pitched as you turn around and lie down on the beach chair. He gets on his knees, rubbing his hands together before rubbing your back, you reach back and pull the string of your stop, letting it fall off and adjust yourself a little

“That should make things easier,” You say as you pull your hair to the side and Eddie has to work very hard to ignore the perfect view he has of your side boob.

“Ha yeah. So- so much easier yeah” He rubs your shoulders first, working the lotion down your sides and across your golden skin. He likes the way it shimmers as it dries into your skin, how soft your skin is, how pretty it is. He’s so busy giving you a massage, rubbing the lotion in he doesn’t even realize the little noises you’re making at first until you moan his name. His hands freeze in place and he finally snaps out of it.

“You’re pretty good with your hands,” You say softly, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“I work with them,” He says dumbly and you giggle while he internally terminates his life contract.

“Yeah, I know, with Buck, right? You’re a firefighter too?”

“Yeah actually, it feels like my calling sometimes you know? Helping people just feels right. Plus you know I get to ride in a fire truck and who doesn’t want to freaking do that”

“Yeah he’s like super sexy, he saves people!! He’s a hero!!!” Buck pops up behind Eddie who nearly swings on him and you scream

“I’m sorry I’m so-“ Tommy lifts Buck by the waist, throwing him over his shoulder.

“Eddie can do this too!! I’ve seen him do it!!” Buck yells before Tommy dumps him into the pool and jumps in with him to try and drown him

You laugh as you get up, facing away from Eddie, you look at him from over your shoulder and Eddie practically melts, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Mind retying this for me?” You ask and he nods absentmindedly, his hands fumbling a little as he grabs the strings and ties them back for you

“This good?” He rests his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him

“Uh huh…” You both stare at each other for a second and he smirks, blushing

“Cool. You ready to get in? Or?” His hands travel down your sides and he grips your hips

“Yeah I guess I’m-“

Before you can even finish your sentence Eddie grabs you by your hips, running over to the pool.

“Wait, wait no wait!!!” You scream as he launches you both into the water. You come back to the surface and jump on him, trying to shove him back under

“You asshat!!”

He’s laughing as he grabs you again and dunks you back under, his body staying pressed to yours as you make him bring you back up.

“Hey, that’s not fair!!” You kick and splash and he turns you in his arms so you’re facing him

“Awwwww is the Princess pouting?” He smirks and your jaw drops

“Princess??” You scoff “I’m not a Princess.”

“I don’t know that” Eddie shrugs “Maybe if I got to know you better…”

“Is he asking you on a date” Buck comes up out of the water and Eddie shoves him right back down.

“Because Tommy and I are going out for lunch after this!! I was just gonna make Eddie take you home but this works too”

Now it’s your turn to shove him back down

“How bout it? Just a little getting to know you”

“I’m just saying it could be a double date”

You sigh, leaning your head on Eddie’s shoulder, and smile, shaking your head.

“Yeah Buck we can go on a double date”

“Why do you indulge him” Eddie groans as he goes running through the water, splashing wildly to tell Tommy.

“Because he won’t stop popping up if we don’t”

Buck actually stops bothering you two after that, not that it’s really much to bother you about now that you’ve agreed to a date. You spend the next couple of hours just messing around with them, playing stupid pool games and even mermaids with Buck. He keeps making you do hair flips like Ariel and Tommy puts a stop to that the second you nearly smack your head into the wall after how dizzy it’s made you.

Buck eventually finds a way to convince Tommy to play chicken and he promises he’ll take it easy on you as he helps you onto Eddie’s shoulders and pats your butt.

Eddie though nearly has a heart attack as you settle on his shoulders, your thighs are so perfect and soft and warm, his head rests against your breasts and he tries to be normal about it he does but they’re just so perfect.

He’s never been more glad he’s in a pool because you can’t see the way his cock is rock hard as you squeal and laugh while fighting Buck and trying to shove him over. Eventually, you fall over onto Buck and you both go laughing and splashing into the water and Eddie feels the tiniest hint of jealousy at the way you cling to Buck as he stands you both up.

He quickly passes you back to Eddie though who is more than happy to be holding you again.

“Hey, Ed why don’t you uh- go inside, maybe help Y/N get ready to go?”

“Did you just call me Ed-“

“Yeah yeah go go” He shoves you and Eddie out of the pool and the two of you gather your stuff up and leave just as Tommy pulls Buck over to him, cupping his face and pressing their lips together.

You and Eddie make gagging noises and Buck flips you off

“I literally hate having siblings,” You say as you both walk into the house, Eddie holds the door for you and you sneak under his arm

“Buck is the closest thing I have to a brother here. I can painfully agree with you”

“At least you don’t live with him” you laugh, as you start to dry off more. You rub your arms, trying to generate some heat and Eddie reaches for you

“For warmth” He shrugs like it doesn’t really mean much, trying to pretend like he’s not internally freaking out as you pull your arms to your chest and snuggle into his, he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your head

“Better?” He asks, feeling you squirm a little and you shrug, clearing your throat

“Uh huh, a lot better”

His body is so warm and so… hard. His abs feel nice under your fingertips and you try not to get caught as you totally feel him up and he tries not to get caught feeling you up. His hands rub your arms slowly, his fingertips sliding up your back and massaging you gently again.

“We should probably see what’s keeping them” You pull away after a little bit, biting your lip.

“Yeah… probably” he makes you pull away from him, he doesn’t want to do it himself. You take his hand and pull him back over to the door with you and open it.

“Guys? Can we go please soon?? I’m star-“

Buck is bent over the side of the pool, his head hanging low as he moans, Tommy is over him, kissing his neck and buried deeply inside him.

“MY EYESSSS” Eddie screams as he slams the door shut

Buck has been crazy about double dates, really he just wanted you and Eddie to hang out more and he also wanted to hang out with Eddie and since he wanted to be with Eddie and Tommy it just made sense to bring you too because you’re Tommy’s little sister and he wanted to hang out with you too.

Or at least that’s how he explains it as Eddie blinks at him over his morning coffee.

It wasn’t like it bothered him you tagged along, things were starting to heat up between the two of you. You’d been calling and texting all day since you’d met and he was really starting to feel something for you.

What that was?… he wasn’t really ready to put it into words.

Too bad Buck was.

He’d sent the “What are we?” Text from Eddie’s phone one night when he slept over, and though it got him beat the fuck down Eddie had woken up to an endearing, awkwardly-worded text saying that you “maybe kinda sorta” didn’t mind being his girlfriend.

That’s when the pictures started.

And if getting with you meant you’d be sending him that? Well fuck he would have manned up so much sooner. The first pic arrives when they’re on their way back to the firehouse, he can see the text-

“Is this cute enough for our date?”

And he opens it like a complete dumbass. Because there you are, standing in front of your mirror wearing a sheer corset and a pair of blue jean shorts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. His jaw drops as he stares at you, and his eyes travel up your body… right to the dripping popsicle you’re eating.

“Holy shit” He lets out a quiet breath as he stares at you. Buck looks over at him and makes little grabby hands.

“Hey is that Y/N? Lemme see!!!”

Eddie hugs his phone to his chest like the gentleman he is, protecting your virtue.

“Uhhh it’s just a picture of her rabbit!! It’s- it’s just you know- a really, like super furry rabbit that’s all it’s nothing! It’s nothing it’s fine”

You guys ended up staying in that night.

A couple days later Buck invited you and Eddie for brunch, he said all cool couples go to brunch (really he just wanted the blueberry pancakes they had at this place and you both agreed to go.

“Hello beautiful” He smiles, pecking your lips as he pulls back your chair

“Hi, Eddie” You blush, kissing him back. He sits next to you puts his arm on the back of your chair and pulls you closer to him

“Can you guys stop being so gross” Buck sips his mimosa and Eddie rolls his eyes

“Dude how many times have I caught you and Tommy fu-“

“Not in front of the kids!!!” Buck nearly spits his drink out as he covers Eddie’s mouth with his hands

Buck and Eddie go back and forth like children before Tommy grabs Buck by the chin and turns him toward him, planting a sweet kiss on his lips

“Focus on the pancakes babe”

Buck pulls away, her cheeks pink, his eyes a little dazed

“Yeah… okay..”

The rest of the time is fun, the boys are really into whatever stupid story they’re remembering and trying to tell you but they keep laughing and talking over each other.

You’re nodding along absentmindedly when Eddie feels your hand. He thinks it’s just a fluke, an accident. But… no? It’s creeping higher up his thigh, stroking his muscles softly.

He can feel his cock hardening in his pants, and he tries to maintain his composure, keeping the conversation going with Buck and Tommy.

He thinks? Are they talking about like bees now? Or maybe horses? He has no fucking clue, not with your fingers doing a little walk up his thigh.

He leans back in his chair, allowing your hand to inch closer, and when you finally touch his growing bulge, he lets out a soft breath, his eyes drifting shut for a moment.

You giggle at something Tommy said, rolling your eyes at the stupid dad joke before glancing at Eddie, your nose crinkles, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you start to stroke him slowly.

Eddie's breath hitches at your touch, his body tensing slightly. He forces himself to relax as best he can, keeping his composure as he listens to the conversation. Your giggle sends shivers down his spine, his heart racing. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up before he just shoves you down on the table and fucks you right in front of Buck’s salad.

“Eddie?” You look up at him innocently, acting like the sweetest little angel “Can you show me where the bathroom is?”

His eyes light up as he looks over at you, eager to please. His voice is huskier than normal and Buck definitely picks up on that.

“Yeah of course” He gets up from the table, clearing his throat “Excuse us” he takes your hand and pulls you behind him, leading you toward the back of the restaurant. You can feel the excitement and anticipation building up in your chest, and you can see from the grin on his face he’s feeling exactly the same way you are

He pulls you into the family bathroom and pushes you against the door the second it closes, kissing you passionately as he locks it. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, your tongues battling for dominance. His fist hits the door beside you and you gasp into his mouth, he grins, his tongue winning easily now.

“Oh… oh you like it rough don’t you?”

He chuckles darkly as he attacks your neck, biting and kissing. You pull at his belt and whine.

“We don’t have much time, it has to be quick!” Your breath is ragged as he scoops you up and carries you over to the counter

“You think you’re wet enough for me?”

He shoves your skirt up around your waist and pulls your panties to the side, his eyes widening at the sticky tendrils of your wetness plastered against them.

“Holy….”

“I think I’m wet enough” you whisper seductively, reaching for his belt and taking it off.

He pulls his thick cock from his pants, stroking it slowly and tapping your clit with it, your body shudders as he rubs it through your folds, gathering your wetness all over the tip. Your head falls back as he thrusts into you in one quick motion, the wind is knocked out of you as you slap your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your moan.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before he sets a brutal pace, he has to, not that you’re complaining in the least. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him in deeper each time. His grip on your thighs tightens as your nails scrape over his skin.

“You feel so fucking good” he groans, his body burning with need. Your breathy moans and whimpers spur him on. His hand comes up to brace himself against the mirror as he loses himself in your body, the sounds of the way he’s fucking you echoing in the small bathroom. He can feel your tightness, how wet you are for him, the way you clench around him with each thrust like he belongs inside you, like you own him.

“Y-you have to p-pull out” you pant harshly, your head falling back so you can see yourself in the mirror.

“Oh baby girl, if you think for one second I’m not making you sit at that table with my cum dripping between your legs?”

His thrusts become sharper and you cry out

“I’m not fucking you dumb enough”

He covers your mouth as he thrusts into you harder, keeping all those high-pitched whines and noises quiet. He wishes he didn’t have to keep you so quiet, but he doesn’t care all that much when you take his hand and push it up further covering your nose too.

“Oh, Y/N” He moans, holding his hand down harder so you can barely breathe, it sends his head spinning, his hips stuttering and jerking messily as he pounds into you so desperately.

His lips spill praises for you, “Good girl” “so fucking tight” he can feel you clenching around him more and more as your back arches and your body shudders, your orgasm rippling through you and that’s all it takes for him to cum with you, pumping his seed into you.

He pulls his hand away and you gasp in air as he collapses against you. You hug him to your chest as he nuzzles his face into you.

“Fucking hell” he moans into your neck and you trail your fingers through his hair in response, tugging lightly so he’ll look up at you. You press your lips to his, giggling quietly and he grins, kissing you back.

“You think they know?” You blush while he sets you back down, helping you rearrange your clothes, your legs are still wobbling and it just makes him want to do it all over again

“I mean, probably” he chuckles, and you groan, letting your head fall against his chest.

“That’s…. Something”

“Hey you’re the one who started this, you really didn’t think it through huh?” He taps your forehead and you huff at him while he gets himself put back together. You make him bend down to fix his hair and he smirks, staring into your eyes while you do it.

“Quit it!!” You frown a little and that just makes him smile more

“You’re really pretty”

You look at him, your fingers tangled in his hair and he leans in, giving you a soft kiss, still staring into your eyes.

“You’re really intimidating” you admit shyly and he gives you a funny look

“Honey we just fucked in a public bathroom and now you want to get all shy on me? Now you want to tell me how intimidating I am?”

“Oh shut up!!” You whack his chest and shove him away and he laughs, pulling you back into him and kissing your neck

“Awww don’t pout baby girl, you’ll turn me on again”

“Eddie Diaz!” You squeak and before he can embarrass you anymore there’s a knock at the door

“Occupied!” Eddie calls out as he pushes you against the wall now, you whimper and lift your leg around his waist and he picks you back up

“Yeah I know, Tommy and I are hungry. Are you guys done yet?? Because she’s gonna be too exhausted to eat”

Your mouth drops open and Eddie lets his head fall onto your shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head before setting you back down carefully

“Yeah... Buck. We’re done.”

Two weeks later Eddie comes into work, a little pep in his step. He jogs up the stairs and stops at the top, his team standing there. Bobby has a cake in his hands as the other three cheer and a little burst of confetti is thrown on him.

“Whaaat’s this all about?” He laughs, shaking the confetti from his hair

“Congratulations on getting laid!!” Chimney cheers

“Continuously!” Hen adds and Bobby shows him the cake that says “Congrats! You got laid!” With a cute little bed in the middle of it

“We’re gonna be brothers!!” Buck squeals as he jumps on him

#words by rhys #911 x reader #rhys writes #eddie diaz #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #911 show #evan buckley #911 abc #tommy kinard #911 #911 fanfic #911 fandom #Kinktober 2024

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shurisneakers · 1 year ago

Text

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently.

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended.

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused.

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles.

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV.

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit.

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week.

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling.

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.”

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive.

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there.

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks.

They give him access to his Twitter.

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening.

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested.

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening.

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it.

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees.

Therefore, it begins.

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions.

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution.

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.

He is not put in another video.

And so he finds himself here.

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up.

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows.

“No.”

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to.

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad.

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was–

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily.

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now.

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head.

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question.

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked.

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night.

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly.

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.”

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them.

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?”

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–”

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum.

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it.

You were… loud. And open.

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium.

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

“Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow.

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates.

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head.

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues.

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud.

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?”

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay.

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly.

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table.

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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nenoname · 4 months ago

Text

Journal 3’s references to Stan

(…does the Lost Pages count as J3 when some had to be in J2 and also may or may not be a truth lie turducken? idk. Ford’s TBoB letters sure as hell don’t count as J3 but I’m including them here anyway)

Lost Journal Pages

"STANLEY COULD HAVE MADE HER LAUGH"

“My stomach sank a bit when I realized… it was my birthday. This day has felt… odd, since S and I… parted ways.”

"I was adjusting my TV antennae for weather reports (looking for ideal conditions for F's first portal test) and spat out my coffee when I saw THIS! My brother hawking scams under the name "Panley Stines." I had half a mind to call that number, just to pretend to be the police and maybe scare S straight for once! There is something so galling about seeing your OWN FACE committing crimes on your own TV! When my Muse saw me break my stress ball, I decided it was finally time to vent about Stanley."

""How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"You can't just eat your twin, Bill."

You'd be surprised what you can eat! I say sure, call him if you want him to start mooching off you again! ME, I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it. All they did was hold me back and sabotage my talents! Can you imagine?"

"More than you know. But you do ever wonder if maybe... maybe things could have been different?""

"Our heat budget was so tight that Mom forced S and me to wear one sweater at the same time. (She called it the "Abominable Snow-Stan." Our cat lived in fear of it year-round.)"

“DAMN! This morning I found F rummaging through my old copy of Urban Legends of New Jersey, where I had forgotten I had hidden some old personal items! I’ve quickly re-hidden them here, away from prying eyes.”

"But then he crossed a line. Helplessly I watched Cipher in my own body limp up to a pay phone and dial... STANLEY'S phone number from the infomercial?! No. He wouldn't.

"Hey brother, it's Sixer. I'm going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don't hear from me, I just want you to know that it's because I never loved you. BUH-BYEEEEE."

My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone... The pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through. Cipher turned back to address me.

"TSK, TSK, TSK. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME MAKE YOU DO! TOMORROW'S TAPE IS GONNA BE MUCH WORSE.""

(Bro secret code) "miss you"

“The snow has begun to fall again and there’s very little time. There’s only one left I can turn to to protect my journals while I prepare for the journey…”

"S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute...

What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in its own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years."

(Bro secret code) "HAVE I BEEN TOO HARSH ALL ALONG?"

"What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!"

What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong?

PROS: I have no one else. Well, that settles it. It's time to come face-to-face with a face I haven't seen in 10 years. My own face. Which... is my brother's face. God, I miss sleep."

Ford’s Letters

"In the weeks since Weirdmageddon, I conducted numerous tests on Stanley's mind (his terrible jokes are still intact) and inspected the state for dimensional leakage (we also took turns kicking the statue, and Stanley took a few cracks with a crowbar). I burned every Cipher-shaped item I had ever collected, and even threw away all my one-dollar bills, just to be safe (Stanley, of course, found and pocketed them).

“I emerged from my lab after days of agonized contemplation to find- to my shock- that Mabel was reading the book, out loud, to Stanley, Dipper, Soos, and Wendy!”

“They didn’t see me as an irredeemable screwup. Stanley said, "So, your past is just a giant pile of mistakes? Congratulations- you really are a Pines!”“

"Bill may tell you that happiness requires conquering galaxies and living forever, but I've seen enough of the universe to tell you that he's wrong. I've found my happiness. And it looks like this:"

"If you're reading this... then I am dead. Kidding! Sorry, Stanley thought that would be funny. Ha-ha! We're currently out shopping for harpoons to prepare for our trip to the arctic."

"Stan, if you end breaking into my lab at some point later today- Bravo! Still as good a locksmith as in 8th grade. Beers are under the desk."

(It kinda strikes me that the BoB Lost Journal pages about Stan sound far more like post-portal Ford’s opinions on Stan instead, where he’s openly angry at both being pushed into the portal + at the portal being opened again + his murder suicide attempt being foiled + Stan disowning him + turning his house into a tourist trap + taking his identity vs pre-portal Ford being more… melodramatic(?) constantly being reminded of him but not wanting to linger too long? idk the vibes are different

Plus pre-portal Ford pretty consistently only calls Stan "S” or just refers to him as his brother (with the exception of him writing his name in a Caesar cipher). I think he only ever messes up the general naming scheme a single time when he wrote Fiddleford instead of F

…not to mention the perpetual motion machine comment says thirty instead of ten years)

Other sections: Pre-Portal, Post-Portal, Post-Weirdmageddon

#shout out to all the folks who thought ford was telling stan to find bees #but nevermind all that-- what the hell do you mean snow in glass shard was made of seagull beaks #that finally sank in and i honestly feel viscerally ill #gravity falls #stanley pines #stan pines #ford pines #stanford pines #journal 3 #the book of bill #stan twins #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #man we desperately need more post tbob ford cos rereading pre weirdmageddon ford is just depressing #and immediate post weirdmageddon ford still feels like he's finding his footing #i want more of the stan twins teaming up to be assholes to others ksadhksjdhsa that joke to dipper was mean i love that for them #anyway im chewing on the clearly young stan commercial being used when it was supposed to be close to the portal test...

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grimesgirll · 1 year ago

Text

“not happening.”

“what if i told you that you’d be helping to save the world?”

“by fucking him?”

you scoff, turning your attention back to the braid you’d begun down your back. “i’m not helping you with your passion project, okafor. i have actual shit to do.”

okafor grins at you. “bullshit.”

“no, i still have weekly duties and assignments. i can’t just drop all of that trying to seduce your ticking time bomb.”

“i see the way he looks at you,” he states with a breath of your name. “if he’s gonna be open to anyone, it’s you.”

“he doesn’t need to be open to anyone.” you counter.

“i don’t think you know what he needs yet.”

“and you do?”

“he needs you.”

“no.” you reply flatly, fists clenched. “you need him to enact your little plan that i have nothing to do with.”

the lieutenant colonel gives you a haughty smile. “well then, at the very least he needs stress relief and you owe me a favor.”

you glare at him. “that was a one time thing.”

“you got what you wanted didn’t you?”

“being perpetually indebted to you with favors isn’t what i signed up for,” you complain as you plait your hair.

“you get to sit around and make your little maps and fuck around all day.” your superior reminds you.

you do your best not to scowl too much, unlike the man who your former benefactor wanted you to de-stress fuck. he constantly had a sour look on his face. he was the consignee who cut off his fucking hand trying to escape. how would you convince someone like that to just lay back and let you fuck them until they didn’t miss whatever life they had before again?

“this is kind of a far ask, okafor.” you note and tie off the end of your braid. you finally turn around from the mirror in front of you to face the dark green fatigue clad man behind you. “it’s never gone as far as touching someone like that and actually fucking them. i don’t think i’m up for that.”

okafor crosses his arms. “are you sure about that? last time i checked, you eye fuck him almost as much as he eye fucks you.”

“you’re an asshole.” you spit, venom dripping from your words. “i’m not letting you coerce me into this.” your eyes meet his brown irises. “let this be the last straw for you, lock me up, dishonorably discharge me, whatever, but i’m not just gonna hop on your lackey’s dick because you say so.”

he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, smirking for whatever reason. “i think you’ll want to.” he suddenly stands and you’re paranoid for a split second that he’s about to summon backup or attempt to disarm you right here and now. “because i’m not serving up any threats, just desserts. you’ve been good to me and i’ve been good to you. i want you to continue to reward you. maybe with what you’ve wanted all along.”

your eyebrow lifts. “and what would that be?”

okafor doesn’t say anything when you begin breaking the dress code with your workout gear. you make sure to plan time around your community mapping projects to run past the officers' meeting hall in the tighest pair of shorts you owned.

you never forgot to smile and wave to okafor and rick as you pass by. it takes a few days but rick returns your wave.

content adorns your face when you catch him surveying your form from afar, getting closer and closer to that sweet reward okafor had promised you.

soon enough rick is running into you everywhere. you're crossing paths in helicopter hangers, on benches outside of the barracks, during your runs around the reservoir, at the gym, in the administrative office in your most yielding sweater, in the hallway, and at his front door on okafor’s orders.

“okafor wanted me to make sure this got to you.”

“thank you,” rick grunts gruffly, accepting the folder with his latest field assignment from your grasp.

“anytime, rick,” you crow.

before he can bid you good night, you ask if he’d been briefed by okafor yet. he shakes his head.

you smile sweetly. “well, he really wanted you to sit down and talk about the park with someone who’s been there before, knows the layout.”

the cowboy type raises an eyebrow. “you’ve been to olympia national park before.”

“mhmm,” you confirm. “a long time ago but i know more about it than okafor.” you let out a breath, eyes boring into his icy blue gaze. “got a minute?”

the dark wainscoting of officer’s quarters enters your field of vision as rick leads you through the skinny hallway, pointing out a bathroom before bringing you into what you assume is the downstairs living room.

“you can help yourself to the kitchen,” he offers graciously, gesturing towards the kitchen of the open floor plan living space.

“thanks!” you chirp and weave towards the kitchen, finding two short glasses and flinging a cabinet open.

“oh, you have whiskey!”

“it was a gift from okafor.”

you can barely keep a guffaw from tumbling out of your mouth. “that’s very on brand for him,” you comment, turning the handcrafted decanter over in your hands. “well, lucky for you, okafor has fantastic taste.”

rick observes from the leather sofa as you pour two short glasses of whiskey - not even asking if you could. the orange light of the kitchen does nothing to hide how great you look for nine o’clock at night. your gauzy long hair glints, looking sleek beneath the lights as it falls inches above the curve of your ass.

the same bottom that had seemingly been following rick around base. it was like everywhere he turned: you were there. whatever inspired this house call felt suspiciously related.

kneeling on the floor next to the coffee table, you place the tray with your drinks down and empty the folder of its documents in order to splay them across the table. you reach up to rick to pass him one of the twin glasses.

reluctantly, he accepts. however, he doesn’t take a sip from his glass until after you do.

he doesn’t miss the way your throat tenses at the burn of the liquor when it makes its way down. you throw another swig back like a young woman who’s grown accustomed to drinking with her fellow soldiers, but in the quarters of one of her superiors?

“so, here’s where you’ll be landing.” your glass is already on the coffee table and you’re pointing out green meandering lines. “whitehorse mountain is right here. just be careful of atmospheric rivers in the area. did okafor tell you about what happened to the apache team?”

the dark haired man shook his head, worry lines becoming more pronounced.

you shake your head. “forget i said anything.” you take another quick drink from your glass and rick looks alarmed - you’re not like your oxen brothers in arm who could drink themselves silly. he doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because you’re skipping right to the next print out to detail his planned trek along the sauk river.

“it’s a pretty ridge. you should stop and take a picture.” you suggest, thumbing through laminated landmark shots of valleys and vistas, making a verbal note of one which is a convenient stop on his trip.

he bites his pink lip. “i don’t think getting a photo of the view is gonna be on my mind, sweetheart.”

“why not?” you question with a glimmer in your eye. “someone like you should take time to relax when you can.”

he chides your name. “what’re you doin’?”

“your job is important, and we all have jobs to do, right?”

there’s a far awayness in his eyes that you can’t place when you lean in closer. feet tucked under your knees, you’re trailing your hand up rick’s thigh towards the tent in his pants.

“you wanna fuck my mouth?”

“why’re you doin’ this?”

when he iterates your name, you consider backing down but then you remember okafor’s promise and how truly repressed this man seemed.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it.”

rick squirms. he doesn’t mean to but it’s a question not many people have the balls to ask him and he didn’t expect it from you of all people. he tries to block whatever memories are bubbling in response and busies himself with taking in the view of your parted lips.

“you don’t have to say anything, just relax,” you coo, shoving him back slightly.

looking down at you, rick doesn’t know what he has to gain from saying no at this point. rick huffs as you approach his erection but he doesn’t object.

his waistband falls with your fingers and you’re faced with the massive length you’d been worrying about. ever since you first saw rick’s bulge, you were brainstorming how you’d even fit him inside your taut walls, much less inside of your mouth.

starting slow, you begin at the base and kitten lick up to the top. rick’s groans give him away immediately. how can he hide how repressed he is with a cock as hard as rocks?

at the top of him, you’re laving his cockhead in your mouth. “i’ve never been with anyone this big,” you admit for the potential ego boost - even though it’s one hundred percent true. rick has a fucking horse cock if you’ve ever seen one.

your hand is working overtime with everything you can’t fit into your mouth at first. rick exhales hoarsely at the wet heat of your mouth devouring him. he hasn’t had a mouth on him in so long. your tight, warm lips wrap around his dick and you swallow around him.

his self control is rusty so he curses when he bucks into your face, stalling his hips only for you to pick up your pace. he wants to pull you off when he feels like he’s about to cum down your tight airway which is crammed full of his cock.

at the first feeling of that telltale twitch against your tongue, you prepare to do your part to keep rick’s nice leather couch clean and swallow everything he’s been holding back.

popping off of him, you look back up at him and grant a toothy smile. his eyes are lurid and clouded with what you only assume is lust. you’re not prepared for his rough grip to drag you onto the surface and into his lap.

the green cargo mini skirt you were wearing falls down your legs and lands somewhere on the wood paneled floor. the moment after you wipe your mouth with a tight fitting sleeve, rick captures your mouth. slightly taken aback, you moan into the man, squirming borderline uncontrollably on top of him as he pulls your top over your head.

his sturdy fingertips ghost across up your waist to your breast. with one robust squeeze as a warning, he assaults your heaving chest with his flesh hand and bruises your collarbone with something between a kiss and a mini-puncture wound. the proesthetic invades your panties and teases your labia, eliciting a needy hum from you.

his horse cock makes itself known again against the front of your pale pink panties.

fuck, how will he fit?

“god, you’re already soakin’ me.”

you get past the feel of his embrace for a moment to glance down only to be greeted with the sight of your swampy lap. how did i do that? you ponder.

“i wanna feel you on my cock, sweetheart. is that something you can do to help me relax?”

you grin. “i’m glad you asked.” you feel a renewed tingle downstairs. “why don’t you see how i take your fingers first?”

a smirk forms on his face. “probably should.” and then he’s reaching between the two of you to prod a finger at your dripping mound.

a deft finger drives into you. you’re expecting another one but as you lazily rest your head on his clothed shoulder, you just whine. the finger inside of you curls and unfurls, stretching you out without the addition of another digit. just the way his fingers drags along your walls has you twisting on top of him.

“you’re really wet for a girl who came over to talk about maps.”

you don’t comment, just cant your hips and beg for another finger. he obliges.

the calculated sensation has you forgetting what he’s talking about, forgetting about your plan. that rhythm he’s adopted speeds up once you make eye contact with rick.

“one more?” he questions.

you nod furiously. “another!”

rick doesn’t delay and the floor drops out from under once you feel a tongue on your quiveting lower lips.

“rick!” you gasp as his fingers and tongue work in unison to squeeze every naughty little noise out of you.

the soldier doesn’t speak; he just laps up your pussy like it was an order.

you come all over his face.

“sorr-,” you’re shut up by a wet finger in your mouth.

“that’s it.”

the no longer meek man trains his eyes on you as you suck his finger clean. through half lidded eyes, you watch his pupils dilate into fully lust blown orbs. devoid of the bright blue you’d seen before, rick’s stare only shifts when he’s shifting you on top of him.

“is it going to fit?” you don’t even realize that your thoughts are materializing out loud.

the officer snorts. “never had a problem before.”

the initial stretch is challenging. your breath is caught in your throat and you’re almost asking the man beneath you to slow down but he’s already inching in at an excruciatingly stable rate.

fuck, you’re reconsidering this. you curse your lieutenant colonel for acting like this whole song and dance was easy. figures. okafor isn’t the one getting stretched out on an eight inch cock.

at the sound of your whines, rick places a kiss on the top of your forehead. “doin’ so good for me,” rick praises. “so tight.”

i know, i feel you tearing me open you want to rasp but you just try to settle into the feeling. you adjust your position, tilting enough for rick to take a renewed interest in your ass. a firm hand plants itself on your flesh in an attempt to leverage you closer.

“almost there,” he grunts and continues pushing through your clinging canal, through the thick rings of muscle that grip his cock so tightly.

momentarily, you slump against the soldier. yeah, you’d been running around the base in hopes of attracting rick’s attention but your exercise routine was no match for the man with a brick between his legs.

once he’s sheathed inside of you, rick reaches down to toy with your clit. you mutter a soft curse. the sensation picks up and you’re faced with not just feeling full but fully stimulated as well. each drag against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you whimpering into rick.

drives into you become harsher. the impact feels less like a truck and more like a commanding officer. an arm is wrapped around you to keep your position steady on top of okafor’s new favorite soldier. the same one who seems to be hitting the right spot every time he moves you up and down his length.

your hands reach for his graying chestnut hair. they find purchase while rick rocks into you. the urge to complain that his shirt is on exits once a familiar pressure mounts inside of you.

“fuck, you’re squeezin’ me.”

“mhmm,” you expire into his neck, nuzzling into him when he presses fingernails into your sides and lifts and lowers you like his own personal stress relief toy.

you can’t be bothered to care. you’re getting what you want out of this: a reward and a release.

pleasure is just radiating throughout your core again. whatever pain had you speechless earlier has evolved into an ecstasy that has you babbling. rick just keeps a hand on the small of your back and carries on pouring himself into you - into your tight little canal, back and forth, in and out.

“rick,” you’re mewling.

the man can’t be bothered to plant a hand pleasurably on your pussy or respond to your cries, so you complain a little louder.

“want you to cum in me.” you stutter into the pillowcase.

“don’t think you want that,” rick demurely admits.

“no,” you argue between pants. “i’m on the shot they have here. i want you to fill me up.”

rick utters a curse into your neck, pouring himself into you so swiftly you’re surprised. just like you asked, he pumps his hips leisurely into your soaked cunt. you wince at the sound of a squelch. hopefully rick doesn’t care too much about having to clean his sofa.

neither of you are expecting the noise you make when rick untangles himself from you. you’re too tired to have shame and simply sink back into the ductile pillows. your head swivels over slowly to find rick watching your chest fall up and down unevenly.

laying beside the man, you can’t help but feel accomplished. for once, the soldier is sporting a blissed out look on his face instead of a scowl or thousand yard stare. but as he slings an arm around you and tugs you closer to his sweltering, sweaty body, you can’t help but feel guilty - manipulative even.

mission accomplished, but at what cost?

pt. 2

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