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neptunecaptains · 2 months ago

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Homecoming

Pairing: Commander!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve's back home after a mission.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral (f receiving), face-sitting, mild dirty talk, repressed feelings (slight angst), established relationship.

A/N: I haven't written fic in a long time and it probably reads like it. I haven't seen anything MCU since Dr. Strange 2/Spidey until Thunderbolts yesterday so not caught up on the lore. This popped up in my brain after a nap on Wednesday. Let me know what you think!

♡♡♡♡

It’s quiet when he comes in.

Sometime between your drifting off and the quiet snick of the bedroom door shutting, you’re aware of the time. The numbers on your bedside read 3:07AM.

A late arrival, then.

A firm, broad chest pressed up against your back, heavy arm slung low over your waist. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla and the slow sigh of relief once he’s pulled you back into him just a little.

“Hi,” Steve says.

You hum, one hand patting his own over your belly. “Hi.”

Slow, measured breaths tickle your skin, the quiet of the room only disrupted by a soft kiss to your shoulder, the nape of your neck. It’s a little while before either of you speak again.

You know Steve needs it, the comedown after a big mission.

It always starts off predictable enough— get to the Avengers compound, debrief, chew someone out if they were being stupid and reckless on the job or gently bring them back down if there were any losses, shower, return his suit and weapons, a brief psych evaluation and physical check for injuries, then get on the road back to the city.

Once he’s walking through your front door, though, it’s not until you get a good look at him that you can know how things went. Still, it’s always Steve.

“You’re back,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Steve’s arm around your waist tightens, warmth of his skin seeping into your own over the fabric of your sleep shirt. It’s one of his, an old, worn thing he bought in Jersey back when he’d first woken up. There’s a couple of loose threads coming from the left sleeve and an old stain at the hem that you swear is blood — Steve refuses to confirm or deny it — but it’s and it’s yours and you wear it to bed more times than not.

“I am,” Steve’s mouth brushes your skin where the shirt’s slipped a little, goosebumps following their trace. His beard’s gotten a little longer, a testament to how much time he’s been away from the comforts of home and his electric trimmer. “Debrief ended about an hour ago, but I stayed for a bit to plan my agenda for tomorrow.”

Huffing a quiet laugh, you turn in his embrace. “You have an assistant for that, Commander.”

Steve chuckles, a soft, sleepy sound settling warm in your heart. He turns on his back, bringing you up into his chest, willing you closer, sighing into your hair.

His breathing’s slowed enough that you briefly wonder if he’s fallen asleep, though after almost a year of sharing a bed means you’ve caught to his tells that he has yet to drift off— the tension in his arms, the quiet, intermittent sniffles he gets before he knocks out, the fact that he’s barely really said a word about the mission at all.

“Good trip?” you murmur.

You feel him shrug, sheets rustling beneath him and that just—

Pushing off his chest, you sit up to turn on the bedside lamp. Soft, warm light fills the room, dim enough to not make your eyes hurt.

Something else does, though.

“Steve…”

A cut over his eyebrow and a bruise already turning yellow on his left temple. Red-rimmed eyes and a swollen lip. Somewhere beneath the collar of his shirt, a thin, red line extends up the side of his neck, already healing. You watch him wince when you lie a hand on his stomach, feeling the taut muscles there contract.

Your words fail, throat closing up. One of his hands wraps around your wrist, big and warm and comforting, even though you should be the one comforting him right now.

“Looks worse than it is,” Steve shrugs again. This time, you catch the way his lips thin out just a little, the slight twitch in his eye at the movement. “Y’know I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m used to it.”

At that, Steve’s fingers squeeze your wrist. He knows it’s hard for you, keeping up with what he does for a living. Technically, he could’ve retired years ago, but there’s something to be said about his insatiable need to do something to feel useful.

You know he’s talked about it with his therapist, and even Bucky and Natasha had tried to talk some sense into him about taking things easy, slowing down, moving into a less-exposed role once he’d handed the shield to Sam. But Steve Rogers is nothing if not stubborn, so he’d been made Commander and only deploys to missions that really need him. But he still deploys.

Steve’s thumb brushes over your skin, eyes on yours in the dim light, a quiet apology for now. You can’t help but let it go, leaning in to finally kiss him.

It’s a soft, sweet thing, the kiss. Mouths slotted perfectly over each other, Steve’s tongue only slightly running over your bottom lip until you open up for him, let yourself slide back down on the bed with him.

“I missed you,” you murmur, lips brushing his own. “A lot.”

“Missed you too, honey,” Steve sighs into the kiss. “A lot.”

He guides you to sit on his lap, the cradle of his hips warm and strong beneath your thighs. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his sweatpants, can’t help but settle fully onto him as you stretch over his torso.

Steve tastes like mint and iron, undoubtedly from the injury to his lip, but you’ll have him like this and any other way you can get him as long as he gets to come back home. He sighs into the kiss, reaching a hand to cup your neck and angle your head the way he wants, the other slowly making its way down your back to rest above your ass. He swallows your resulting sound, making one of his own when you break the kiss.

You pull back, eyeing him suspiciously. “Steve.”

His hand doesn’t move, fingertips slipping under the waistband of your underwear. They rest there while he looks at you, a question in his eyes. The bruise on his temple will be gone in the morning, same as the cut on his brow, but you can’t help but wonder how he got them, who he had to fight this time around.

He can tell you’re distracted, hand on your nape squeezing briefly as if to bring you back to him.

“Honey,” he says and you sigh.

Steve lets you sit up again, hands slipping from your body to rest on your thigh as you sit cross-legged next to him. His half-lidded gaze meets yours, thumb brushing slowly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He watches you for a minute, assessing, waiting for you to answer.

In the end, it’s only right to try to be the sensible one in this situation. “You’re still in pain, Steve.”

He shakes his head, squeezing your thigh softly. “Not that much. Just— I need to think about something else right now. Can’t sleep yet.”

This has happened before, a few times.

It didn’t when you’d first started dating. Being one of Steve’s only relationships since he came out of the ice meant he’d had time to work through some stuff on his own before he tried to be with someone else, so when he’d had difficult missions at the beginning of your courtship, he’d always been upfront about needing some time before he could talk to you about them.

Lately, though, something’s been happening. Every other mission seems to be more taxing than the last.

You’re sure you’re wholly unclassified to know any of the information Steve eventually divulges, even if unspecific, but it’s specific enough to worry you. He never tells you exactly what happens, but the mornings and days after he’s managed to work through whatever he needs by working you, he makes it clear that whatever they’re fighting isn’t just the universe’s bad guy of the month.

You’re not totally complaining, but you are concerned that your boyfriend needs to blow off steam in such a way before he even considers facing his feelings.

Steve’s hands on your skin bring you back to reality once more. He’s still there, in your bed, gaze questioning, wondering where you went.

You’re sure he has an idea, but it’s not something he’s willing to address tonight.

“Please, honey,” he says. “C’n sit on my face, I won’t have to put in much effort that way.”

Steve adds the last bit as if it’s nothing, but the thought of it alone sends a flash of heat down your spine.

“You always put in effort,” you concede a little, laying a hand on his stomach where his shirt’s ridden up, thumb brushing beneath his navel.

Steve smiles at that, slowly reaching for your hand and helping you rest back on his lap. He holds your hand on his stomach, the other resting on your hip once more.

“‘S that a yes? Gonna let me taste you, baby?” He asks and your resolve is slipping by the second.

You try one last time, though. Need to make it clear where you’ve gone the past few times in as many minutes. “Promise to talk to me in the morning?”

“Promise.” Steve’s answer is emphatic, the hand laced with yours squeezing sure and strong. “Just need to focus on something else right now.”

And so you nod, leaning back a little when Steve sits up to capture your lips once again. He winces as he does so, but smooths a hand down your side while he shushes you, tries to ease your worries.

His hands reach beneath your shirt, cupping your breasts, pressing you into him, roaming over your ass and your thighs as he takes your breath away. Breaking the kiss after a while, he takes a good look at you, lips a little red and swollen beneath his beard.

“Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, lying back down. He looks so broad like this, laid out only for you. “Love seeing you in my clothes.”

Heat blooms low in your belly at the praise, flashes even hotter when you feel the faint line of Steve’s cock pressing into you.

“Yeah?” you ask, brow raised and a teasing grin upon your lips. “Gonna be you for Halloween this year, wear your stealth suit.”

Given Steve’s resulting blush, he didn’t expect that as an answer. He goes silent for a minute, gaze heavy on you, thumbs slipping beneath your waistband once more, stroking over your hip bones.

Laughing, you let yourself fall forward onto his chest, careful not to rest too heavily on him. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not my fault you look good in everything,” Steve says, sheepish. He helps you sit back up on his lap, big hands back on your thighs. “Maybe the techs can make a version just for you. We could use it.”

“For what purposes, sir?” You snort, shaking your head when Steve gives you a slow onceover. “You’re incorrigible.”

He shrugs, smirking and pretty, brief embarrassment gone. “I’m a paragon of duty and righteousness, I’ll have you know.”

You shake your head at him again, unable to help the smile that comes on.

“Up, baby.”

He helps you get your underwear off, first through one leg then the other, then helps you scoot up his torso and towards his face. Fingers laced with yours next to your legs, he helps you settle above him, the prickly brush of his beard on your inner thighs as he brushes kisses there making you shiver.

“Already, honey?” Steve murmurs into your skin, heavy-lidded gaze locked on yours. “Barely even touched you yet.”

You feel yourself flush, only made worse by Steve softly blowing on your cunt before he gives you one long, teasing lick. Then a second, and a third. He pulls you fully down on his tongue, holding tight onto your hips so you have nowhere to go.

“Steve,” you gasp, tugging on his hair.

Steve growls low in his chest at the feeling, beginning to lap at you in short strokes, sucking at your folds, making it so wet and messy you’re sure it’s dripping down his chin.

“Want you to come on my tongue,” Steve murmurs.

He places a loud kiss to your folds, gaze locking on yours just to make sure you heard him, only going back to task once he gets a shaky nod from you.

Grinding on his tongue, sounds wet and loud in the otherwise quiet room. Steve’s hands settle on your ass, helping you move on him as he fully flattens his tongue. He switches up his rhythm, slow broad licks all over your cunt making you shiver.

“You’re so good at this, fuck.”

You feel rather than hear him chuckle at that, teeth nipping at your inner thigh. He dives right back in, eyelashes fluttering closed, mouth closing softly around your clit. You shiver, tugging on his hair again as your thighs close around his head.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moan, the coil low in your belly dissolving into warm static spreading through your limbs.

It’s a minute before you fully come to, shaking a little through Steve cleaning you up with his tongue and soft kisses to your thighs. He lies you back onto the bed, gathering you up in his arms again all while murmuring soft and sweet. Pressing chaste kisses to your lips, he answers your quiet noises with his own, nosing at you as your eyes open once more.

“Back with me?” he says, face brightening at your soft sound. “There she is.”

You hum, burying your face in his neck. “My ears are ringing.”

Steve lets out an actual belly laugh at that, his entire body shaking with it, your own heart glowing from it. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groan, weakly pushing at his chest. Placing a soft kiss on his jaw at his half-hearted ow, you let yourself fully sink into him, sighing softly when you feel him do the same. Finally ready to sleep now, then. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

Steve brushes a kiss along your forehead. “Me too, honey,” he says, words coming slow and sleepy now. “Me too.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers angst #mcu fanfiction #mcu smut #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female reader smut #from neptune's keyboard

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flamingpudding · 5 months ago

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Little Snippets #8

A/N: Recently reread an older prompt thread of Danny reincarnating as Tim and remembering his previous life at nine... that inspired this...

Something was different about Tim. They all noticed as they watched the third Robin as he went through the cave like a whirlwind on fire. Collecting small gadgets and trinkets, his laptop and other things before hurrying off with some kind of excuse again. Dick arched an eyebrow and glanced at Bruce. The first Robin felt tempted to as Bruce for help to figure out if something had happened during their last mission.

While near death situation weren't uncommon in their line of work, they never before had affected the young teen the way they have right now. Dick had first thought, the kid had suffered some kind of head trauma considering how disoriented he had been when he first woke up. But this, was ridiculous, it wasn't like Tim was acting all to different from his usual self but.... Dick shock his head. Maybe he was just imaging it. The kid was still the same, tinkering with gadgets and drinking coffee or energy drink in amounts the kid was still way to young to consume the way he does. Maybe the boy hit puberty finally.

In his room Tim dropped everything he had collected from the Batcave into a pile, before quickly grabbing a notepad and scratching out bullet points as well as adding new points. The kid then proceeded to start pacing his room, counting something down with the help of his fingers as he muttered to himself.

"Okay Tim, think... I should have everything I need... I just need to remember the blueprint and then build it. It's not like I never build gadgets of my own. It something I have always done once I got into it... so it will be easy to make it and then..." His muttered continued before he plopped onto the ground, not before grabbing his little multi-tool box. His hand grabbing his notebook once again as he opened it and began scribbling down.

"If I use the parts of the stun gun.... and then the chip set from the bat mini computer.... then use the metal from one of the many batarangs..." Tim mumbled to himself, before coursing as he dropped his pen. His hand going intangible for a brief moment. His eye twitches for a second before he took a deep breath calming down, then picked up his pen again. He really needed to get started on building that Fenton bracelet.

"They just had to knock me hard enough into the head that I would remember my past life...." Tim mutters quietly, annoyed with the goons he had fought during their last mission. He took another deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Memories that belonged to Danny Fenton flitting across his mind. When Tim had woken up the first time he hand't remembered for a hot second that he was Tim Drake, son of Janet and Jack Drake, ward of Bruce Wayne and third Robin to Batman.

He literally thought he was Danny Fenton waking up in a strange dimension. After his initial panic calmed down Danny, or rather Tim had anaylized his situation and figured out, he was remembering his past life. It made the most sense. At first that was easy to deal with, until Tim one day fell through the floor. Thankfully neither Bruce, Alfred or Dick had noticed that incident. But to Tim, that meant he unlocked his abilities from his past life.

Which how was he going to explain that? 'Oh hey Bruce, I woke up and I don't have a meta gene but I remember my past life and now I have ghost abilities.' Yeah... that would go really well with the paranoid old man. Someone Tim was currently babysitting until that man recovered from his grief.

That brought Tim to his next dilemma. Because he remembered Danny Fenton read comics, while he mostly read comics centered around Martian Manhunter his past self thankfully had a friend that was into Batman and had discussed the comics with him. That was lucky for Tim. Because Tim wasn't stupid, he had seen other kids at school read these kind of books before. So he was aware that he was currently experiencing and living through the plot of one of these reincarnations book.

A part of him was partially sure that he could blame that on some of his ghostly friends from his past life.

Eitherway, thanks to his past life's friend. Tim had knowledge of the future, even if he didn't remember everything. Bad point, he had by now figured out in which timeline he was. Or at least Tim believed he had, which meant he was to late to prevent the fall of the second Robin, but if he calculated right either Damian was going to appear soon or he would be joining the Teen Titans which meant one step closer to going to get attacked by an enraged second Robin coming back. There were targets painted on his back. At least he wasn't at the point at time where he had another insane fruitloop obsessed with him.

Tim groaned. "I swear if this life were a novel it would be called, 'how to survive your siblings rage after awakening to your past life'."

There was a pause in the moment where Tim just let his mind wander. Before sitting straighter and getting to work onto the things he needed to suppress his ghost powers for the moment as well as making plans for the inevitable appearance of his future siblings. He just hoped he remembered the order of events correctly let alone that they were from the timeline he was in, otherwise he would be screwed.

"And that is, if I really only remembered my past life and did not taking over another kids life.... And Ancients... please don't let this be a Joker Jr. timeline...."

#little snippets #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #Danny reincarnated as Tim #Tim remembers his past life #at least he hopes that's the case #now he just wants to get through the next events #in the least painful ways possible #stress writing during lunch break at work #no beta we die like danny

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gloomwitchwrites · 7 months ago

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Rescue

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: canon-typical violence, brief blood, secret feelings, mutual affection

Word Count: 800

A/N: Requested by @kakashipandadog for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Cult Sacrifice)

You’re captured on a scouting mission, believing that you’re being left to your fate. At your most desperate moment, help arrives.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

The stones are singing. Chanting.

That is all you see and sense. There is solid rock beneath your palm and pressed against your cheek. Voices upon voices all communing in unison wrap around you, and yet there is something deeper here you cannot place. Perhaps if you just blink away the haze or rub at your eyes, your vision will clear and it will come to you.

Have you failed your king? You must have. Why else are you so disoriented?

You attempt to stretch, to move your limbs, but scratchy resistance greets you, rubbing against your leather armor and bits of exposed skin.

Groaning, you close your eyes.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The chanting becomes clearer—becomes guttural.

No. The stones are not singing. Nor do the trees. These are voices. Living and present.

On your next exhalation, you twist just enough and see a dark sky above you. There are no stars—just a void. Around you are torches, burning bright with fire but providing no warmth. You are tied down with rope to a large stone slab. Around you are orcs, circling your restrained body, beating their chests and stomping their feet.

From their mouths comes the language of their maker. Black Speech. An abomination. You do not know the words or what they mean but you recognize it for what it is.

There is no hope here.

You are to be sacrificed to something and no one is coming to rescue you.

This was supposed to be simple scouting. King Thranduil gave you instructions, but you've failed to return. Will he send someone to find you? Or is your fate already sealed?

With what little movement you have, you attempt to search for your weapons. While your bow and quiver of arrows are gone, the orcs may have overlooked the hidden daggers. Orcs are not particularly smart and it’s entirely possible you might find something sharp to cut your way out. Defending yourself is a different matter. There are several dozen orcs, and if you only wield a small knife, you may not make it far once you’ve freed yourself from your bonds.

The chanting increases, becoming a crescendo. One of the orcs breaks from the group moving toward you with their serrated blade held high. It raises it over its head, ready and poised to bring it down.

Your fingers splay wide, roaming down to grasp at your boot. This is your last chance.

It's malicious grin wanes, body seizing suddenly as if frozen in ice as it prepares to drive the blade home.

You don't know what to make of this until your gaze drops and lands on the blade sticking out the orcs stomach. The point of the metal is coated in black blood.

Your eyes widen as it's yanked out and the orc falls sideways, revealing King Thranduil.

He's ethereal and calm, blade already spinning to strike another orc down.

He came for you.

King Thranduil did not come alone. There are several other Elves with him, each with blade or bow, cutting through the small horde of orcs with ease.

Hope rises, and with it comes a wave of determination. With another twist, you manage to reach your boot, an in it, a dagger. Removing it, you turn it on the rope, sawing as fast as you can as everything around you descends into chaos.

The threads fray, and the rope snaps. You move to the next, already feeling lighter. It is unraveling—loosening—but it is entirely too slow. At the moment, you are at the mercy of others. Though you are being rescued, you still have to depend on yourself.

An orc comes rushing forward as just as you start on the final tightened rope holding you in place. You saw at it manically, breath coming in quick bursts as you ready for the incoming blow. You might not have the use of your legs but you have your arms.

The orc swings—and the rope snaps.

Turning the blade handle around in your palm, you thrust upward, sinking the knife into the orc’s throat.

It gurgles, dark blood bubbling in its mouth.

Withdrawing the knife brings more blood with it, and the orc keels over, hitting the ground hard.

King Thranduil appears behind it, sword raised and at the ready, his gaze following the corpse. That icy stare turns on you, becoming soft and concerned. There is momentarily flare of affection that blooms in your chest.

You hastily swat the feeling away. It’s not something you can act on.

“You came for me,” you say, voice slightly raspy from disuse.

That softness only intensifies in his eyes, and it resonates, wrapping you up in quiet comfort.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you behind.”

#thranduil fanfic #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil fanfiction #the hobbit thranduil #thranduil #thranduil fic #thranduil fluff #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x female reader #king thranduil #king thranduil x reader #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fluff #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fic #the hobbit movies

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taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me · 2 months ago

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The Start

Summary: Pairing you and Bucky together on a mission is probably the worst idea Steve or Sam ever had, but it's the only way to get what they want.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"I would rather die than work with him."

"And I'd rather kill myself then work with her."

Steve rubbed his eyes as Sam messaged his temple. They knew from the start that this was a bad idea, but they thought they could make it work. Little did they know, this was going to be the most horrible idea they had ever had.

You and Bucky hated each other. Since the moment you met it had been nothing but loathsome jabs and sarcastic insults. You two couldn't stand each other, even just being in the same room would almost cause world war 3 to break out, so what Steve and Sam were asking you to do, was completely incomprehensible.

"This isn't up for debate." Steve said, looking up at the two of you from his seat at the head of the conference table. "You two will go on a mission together and that's final. We've finally made a breakthrough and I'm not going to let the two of you ruin it."

"Then put someone else on it." Bucky mumbled and crossed his arms, leaning further back in his chair.

"You're my best agents, I only trust you two with this mission."

"Flattery will get you no where Steve." You said, sighing. "Besides, I don't really have a problem with doing the mission, it's our covers that I have a problem with."

"I told you this would happen." Sam scoffed from the side, as Steve gave him the 'not now' look in return.

This conference was supposed to be a thirty minute meeting briefing you and Bucky about the mission and your cover identities, but it had been almost two hours and zero progress was made. And everytime the two captain's thought any progress was made, either you or Bucky would say something to each other, causing a fight to break out, taking you back to step one.

"Why can't Nat do it?" You questioned, testing the star strangled man's patience.

"She's off on another mission with Barton." Samn replied in the blonde's place.

"Well then why don't either one of you come with me?" You pressed further.

"We're public figures, it's gonna cause a problem." Sam answered once again, patience hanging from a thread.

"I'm not that bad of a partner you know sweetheart." Bucky chimed in. He loved riling you up, seeing you get so annoyed at him, it was probably his favorite thing to witness in the world. Next only to seeing you red with anger that he was the source of.

"Is that so?" You rebutted. "I'm sure the agent with a broken arm would beg to differ."

"It was his fault, I told him to stay back, but he just wouldn't listen. You, on the other hand will be fine, as long as you listen to me." Bucky replied.

"Who died and made you king?" You huffed and sat up straight, eyebrows furrowed, lips turned into a scowl, wanting to do nothing but to break Bucky's face.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Spell it put for me Barnes."

"I'm more experienced than you, it only makes sense that I take the lead." Bucky answered, leaning further back with his arms still folded, a cocky expression taking over his face.

"I'd have more experience too if I was born the the 1800s grandpa." You quipped, making Sam snort out a laugh, watching the second unfold with amusement. Before either one of you could take things any further, Steve interrupted.

"Look, this mission is going to happen, weather you like it or not. It's not everyday we discover a hydra trafficking ring and it's definitely not everyday we find ways to infiltrate it. So suck it up and do the mission."

"But-" Bucky started but was instantly cut off by a frustrated Steve.

"That's an order." He slammed his hands on the table and stood up, pushing his chair back. "I'm sick of your crap, Sam's gonna brief you further."

He walked out of the room, shaking his head and sighing out loud. You crossed your arms, sitting in the same stance as Bucky as Sam whistled under his breath.

"Never thought I'd see him break, but here we are. Congratulations, you've just accomplished the impossible." He pulled the chair Steve was sitting on closer and sat down to start briefing the two of you.

"After months of tracking we have finally found out the location of where the hydra's biggest business deal will go down. To be honest, I expected it to be some warehouse in a remote location, but turns out it's in Paris. There's going to be a big party where all the party headliners are going to get together and sign off on about a hundred people's life. Your job is to go to the party as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, get cozy with the folks and then take them out, simple as that."

"Yeah, one more thing." You started, leaning forward with your elbows on the conference table. "Aren't they going to recognize him? I mean" You trailed off, but it was quiet clear what you were insinuating. No one was going to believe that the Winter Soilder was married let alone some Mr. Smith.

There was an immediate shift in Bucky, his shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched further, if it was even possible and he let out and audible scoff.

"That's taken care of as well." Sam replied, noticing the shift instantly. "The people there never mixed with Bucky's side of Hydra. They're all just rich Russian businessmen Hydra kept around for money. They know nothing about anything that goes on."

"Don't worry doll, I'm not going to put you in any danger." Bucky finally spoke up, voice gruff, eyes shifting towards you with his arms still folded. "You've got nothing to be scared about."

"I'm not scared shithead." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "The only thing I'm worried about is you going all robocop leading to me handle everything myself."

"Oh please." It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes now. "As if you're all perfect."

"Shove it where the sun don't shine Barnes."

"You know what-"

"Okay enough." Sam butted in, finally having had enough. "You two can rip each others head out on your own time, but right now I need you both to listen the fuck up. Two weeks, that's all we're asking of you. Keep your differences aside for two god forsaken weeks and get through this alive. You'll never have to see each others faces after the okay?"

"Fine." Your grumbled, leaning into your chair with arms folded, exasperation evident on your face.

"Whatever." Bucky mumbled, mimicking your stace. You two might have to act civil towards each other for the next two weeks, but that dosen't mean you had to now.

"Bitch." Bucky said under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, knowing it'll get a rise out of you. For Sam's sake you would have left it alone, but you weren't going to let him have the last word.

"Dickhead."

#bucky x you #bucky barns imagine #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers #sam wilson

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vamptizm · 7 months ago

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ii. MISSION JEALOUSY — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis : in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings : smut, fingering (oc receiving), brief degrading, exhibitionism if you squint, they’re both assholes, no aftercare. please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!

word count : 3.5k

note : this is my first time writing this stuff and omfg was it HARD, i cringed at myself like 10 times and this might be bad but everyone starts somewhere ig lol

series masterlist

The team weight room was alive with the rhythmic clanking of weights and low murmurs of conversation, but Paige only had ears for Clover. The two had been switching off sets on the bench press, each girl pushing themselves harder than necessary—not to outdo their personal records, but each other. Ice, nearby and unbothered, worked through her squats, seemingly oblivious to the escalating competition between the two.

Clover added another set of plates to the bar and smirked as she lay back, her tattoos flexing with every adjustment of her arms. Paige leaned against the rack, her arms crossed, watching with an unimpressed expression.

"Feeling bold after last night, huh?" Paige's tone was casual, but the edge was unmistakable.

Clover gripped the bar above her, sparing Paige a glance. "Nah, I couldn't care less." she quipped, her voice light as she lifted the bar. "Why? Did I make your little friend cry?"

Paige's jaw tightened with a small scoff, but she kept her composure. "You really thought you ate, huh?" She stepped closer as Clover re-racked the bar with ease. "Maybe next time, try not to scare people off before dessert."

Clover sat up, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Scare her off? Oh, baby. She was hanging by a thread before I said anything." She stood, gesturing for Paige to take her spot. "Maybe don't bring your charity cases to team dinners next time."

Paige slid under the bar, refusing to let Clover see how much that comment—and pet-name—got under her skin. She grabbed the bar with purpose, her fingers tightening around it as she muttered under her breath, "You're insufferable, you know that?"

Clover, now spotting Paige, leaned forward slightly, her grin widening. "Yeah, and you fucking love it."

Paige bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed that she couldn't come up with a retort fast enough. Instead, she pressed through her reps, feeling Clover's eyes on her the whole time. By the time she re-racked the bar, she was already regretting agreeing to partner with Clover.

When Clover took her turn again, she added more weight to the bar, clearly trying to prove a point. Paige didn't bother hiding her scoff. "Sure you don't wanna just tape a 'look at me' sign to your back while you're at it?"

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Bueckers," Clover shot back, her voice steady as she lowered the bar with perfect form.

Paige crossed her arms, leaning slightly closer. "You're not that special, Ma."

Clover's laugh echoed through the room as she racked the bar with ease. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. I'm not the one who brought a backup date to dinner."

Paige felt her temper flare, the heat rising up her neck. "You think everything's a game, don't you?" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as Jia moved to another station.

Clover tilted her head, her expression smug. "Maybe. But you love to play, don't you?"

Paige didn't respond, instead picking up a pair of dumbbells and turning her attention to another exercise. But the tension between them lingered, thicker than the humid air in the weight room.

The weight room grew quieter as the rest of the team filed out, leaving only the steady hum of the overhead lights and the sound of weights being racked. Clover and Paige remained, neither willing to be the first to leave.

Paige pretended to focus on her dumbbells, but her attention kept flickering to Clover, who was at the mirror adjusting the resistance on a cable machine. The gym's fluorescent light caught the sheen of sweat on Clover's skin, highlighting the tattoos curling around her arms and peeking out from the neckline of her tank top.

Clover glanced at Paige's reflection in the mirror, catching her staring. She didn't say anything, but the smirk that tugged at her lips made Paige's stomach twist in equal parts annoyance and something else she refused to name.

"Enjoying the view, Bueckers?" Clover's voice broke the silence, casual and teasing.

Paige huffed, looking away as she set her dumbbells back on the rack. "You wish."

Clover turned, leaning against the cable machine, her arms crossed. "You're still mad about dinner, aren't you? I thought we had fun."

"Fun for you maybe," Paige shot back, stepping closer to grab her water bottle. "I don't make a habit of embarrassing people for sport."

Clover's grin widened. "Oh, come on. Amelia was—what's the word?—forgettable."

Paige glared, taking a long drink to buy herself time. She hated how Clover always knew exactly which buttons to push. But worse than that was how Clover's confidence—the way she carried herself, so effortlessly bold—made it hard to focus on anything else.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Paige asked, her voice quieter this time.

Clover tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to catch Paige off guard. "Why would I?"

Paige didn't answer, but the air between them felt charged, almost suffocating. She could feel Clover watching her, and it made her want to walk out—or close the distance between them.

Clover took a step closer, her gaze steady, curious. "What is it about me that gets under your skin so much, huh? Don't act like it's just my big mouth."

Paige's breath caught, her pulse quickening as Clover's words hung in the air. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss.

"Nothing to say?" Clover teased, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping. "That's a first."

Paige clenched her fists at her sides, every nerve on edge. "You don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," Clover replied, her tone softer now, less playful but no less intense.

For a moment, the weight room felt impossibly small, the space between them shrinking by the second. Paige could feel the tension in her chest, the unspoken words and emotions she wasn't ready to name.

Paige didn't step back. Her smirk turned sharper, her eyes searching Clover's face for any sign of hesitation—but she didn't find any. Instead, Clover stood firm, her confidence unwavering even as the air between them grew impossibly thick.

"You're looking at me like you wanna fuck me, Bueckers," Clover remarked, her voice steady and cocky grin unfaltering, even if her heart was pounding.

"Good," Paige replied, voice low. "Maybe that's exactly what I wanna do."

Before Clover could reply, Paige's hand moved—lightly brushing her hip first, then lingering at her waist, her grip firm but not overbearing. Her touch sent a jolt through Clover, but she didn't pull away. Paige stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching, her breath warm against Clover's cheek.

"You're bold today," Clover murmured, her voice quieter now but still laced with challenge.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound deep and confident. "Bold, or just tired of you running your mouth?"

The weight room suddenly felt a hundred degrees hotter. Paige's free hand came up, her fingers gently grazing along the line of Clover's jaw, tilting her head up slightly. The smirk on Clover's lips wavered for a second—not out of nerves, but because Paige's sudden boldness had thrown her off her game for the first time.

"Speechless for once?" Paige teased, her thumb brushing the corner of Clover's mouth.

Clover regained her footing quickly, her cocky grin returning as her hands came to rest against Paige's chest. "Not speechless. Just wondering if you're finally gonna back up all that talk."

Paige's response was immediate. She closed the small gap between them, her lips brushing against Clover's as she pinned her against the cold wall, teasing at first but quickly growing firmer, more insistent. Clover matched her energy without hesitation, her fingers curling into the fabric of Paige's shirt as she pressed closer.

The kiss was nothing short of electric—heated, competitive, and every bit as charged as their arguments. Paige's larger hand slipped from Clover's jaw to her ass, pulling her closer, while Clover tilted her head to deepen the kiss, not willing to let Paige take the lead entirely.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Clover was the first to speak, her voice soft but edged with humor. "So... does this mean you're done being mad about dinner?"

Paige laughed under her breath, her hand still lingering on Clover's waist. "Not even close." She stepped back slightly, her cocky smile returning as she grabbed her towel. "But that's a conversation for another time, Ma."

And instantly, the blonde's lips crashed back against Clover's, her unoccupied hand snaking back up to the girl's face before finding a light grip around her throat. That was enough to ignite the tamed fire inside of Clover, their kiss growing rougher, teeth clashing and tongues meeting— Paige licking into her mouth like she was seeking water in the Sahara desert. A small whimper escaped Clover into Paige's mouth. One that had the blonde cockily grinning against her lips as her slim fingers lightly squeezed the girl's throat.

"Already got you whimpering for me, Baby?" The blonde's grin was taunting, nothing short of confident in herself like she always was.

Clover, however, wasn't as amused as Paige. Too worked up, too hot to come up with her usual and well known retorts. "Just shut the fuck up." She rolled her eyes, barely able to express her annoyance, that could more so be described as frustration.

Paige didn't make an effort to reply, her hand snaking to the back of Clover's neck, pulling the girl into another rough and messy kiss. Her lips slowly began to trail down, peppering wet kisses along Clover's jaw until she reached her neck.

Clover couldn't help but fist the blonde's shirt, gripping it tightly in hopes of grounding herself. Her head tilts backwards, upper teeth biting down on the bottom of her lips to suppress the whimpers that so desperately wanted to be let out. Paige started out with placing soft kisses down Clover's neck, halting at the crook of her neck. Her grip around the girl's waist tightened, tongue darting out to lick along the inked area, down to the collar bone.

The pooling wetness and the growing heat between Clover's legs was hard to deny, even harder to hide. She almost scolded herself for the way her thighs pressed together—it only gave her away and of course Paige didn't miss that. A smirk tugged on the corners of the blonde's lips, darkness clouding her bright eyes.

"You think you're slick, huh? Spreading them for others all fucking week and now you wanna close those legs?" Her tone was mocking, almost degrading and for some reason it only turned Clover on even more.

She couldn't keep her mouth shut, though. When could she ever? Clover Amar was a loud mouth through and through. "Maybe if you weren't all talk I would've spread them for you instead."

Paige had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes, only a small, amused scoff escaping her. "Oh, I'm so sorry I made you wait, princess. Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

And just like that Paige went back to kissing and nibbling on her collar bones, mouth moving further south with each second before reaching her cleavage. Her hands slid up slowly, fingers playing with the hem of the girl's sports bra. "Can I?" Her gaze was back on Clover's face, blue eyes locking with hers and her tone unusually and bizarrely soft and gentle. As if getting permission meant a great deal to her. Clover could only nod her head, too dazed to trust her own voice.

That wasn't enough for Paige, though. She lifted her head up, standing straight as she shook her her head. "You got words, baby. Use 'em."

Clover had to bite her tongue to not curse the blonde out at that very moment. Even in a moment like this, Paige still needed to tease her about it. Typical. Taking a deep breath, she finally complied. "Yes. You can."

A smug smirk made it's way back onto Paige's lips, triumph painted all over her features. It was clear that she enjoyed this more than Clover herself. "There you go, good job."

And oh, how Clover hated the way those words made her stomach do flips.

Paige's fingers finally hooked into the material of the black sports bra, taking her sweet time in pulling it up until Clover's breast sprang free. She stilled for a moment, breath hitching in her throat as she took the sight in front of her in, mouth already watering. If it had been anyone other than the girl in front of her, she'd make sure to shower them in praise and compliments, but she couldn't do that yet. Clover's full tattoo was now in sight— starting from the valley of her breast and ending only a couple of inches above her navel.

The blonde took a subtly deep breath before her hands continued their abandoned actions. "Arms up," she dryly instructed, tugging the clothing over Clover's head and throwing it to the floor after she complied once again. She had to refrain herself from commenting on how well Clover could listen for once.

Paige took her sweet time admiring the girl's exposed chest, hands instinctively finding their way back to her waist, rubbing and caressing the soft skin up and down. Clover was starting to get impatient, her hand finding one of Paige's, guiding it up and placing it over her breast.

The smug smirk on Paige's face only intensified, exuding her all too known and obnoxious confidence. "Eager, aren't we?"

Clover didn't say a word, she didn't have to because as soon as the blonde spoke those words, her mouth was already back on Clover, lips latching onto one nipple while her hands played with the other one. Fondling, pinching her nipples, suckling and biting on them until she got a satisfying squeal out of the girl.

As much as Clover hated this, she absolutely loved it. In some way she was being worshiped AND pleased right? Technically, she was the winner.

Paige continued to suckle and place open mouthed kisses all over her tits, slowly trailing down along the inked skin, licking and pecking.

It wasn't enough for Clover, though. Not nearly enough to coming anywhere close to stilling her hunger for the annoying blonde. But luckily for her, she didn't have to do or say anything. Paige was already on it, hand sliding to the waistband of the girl's shorts while she straightened up. That's when Clover felt her body ignite with fire, the mere thought of being touched in such a public space where anyone could walk in at any given time—despite it being so late—excited her more than she'd like to admit.

"Can you stop teasing?" She asked in an unintentionally low tone, her question coming off as more of a demand or request.

"I don't know, can you behave for once?" Paige countered, that stupid smirk never leaving her face and if Clover wasn't so turned on in that moment, she'd want to smack it off of her.

She hesitated before replying, voice barely above a whisper and a small pout on her lips. "Yes."

That one word seemed to be enough for Paige. Her hand came back up, two digits hovering over Clover's lips. "Suck."

'Is she serious?' Clover thought to herself. She debated it, fighting her pride and ego all for the sake of pleasure before ultimately complying and parting her lips, slowly wrapping them around Paige's fingers.

"Good girl." The blonde hummed as she watched and Clover wanted to roll her eyes. Her tongue swirled around the digits, sucking on and wetting them all while maintaining eye contact until Paige pulled them out again, a string of saliva connecting them. This was purely for the blonde's own pleasure.

Her hands were back on Clover's hips, but this time she didn't seem to have the patience to tease her. Paige's hand slipped right between the material of her waistband and panties.

Clover let out a huffed breath of relief at the touch of Paige's fingers running over her slick folds. The girl was completely soaked by now—embarrassingly so—something that emitted a raised brow from the blonde. "What's got you all soaked, Ma?"

"Shut the fuck up." is all that Clover could muster to say, her words coming out breathless. Her body was on fire and the last thing she wanted, was to be teased again.

Paige could only chuckle, something that would've aggravated the girl if she wasn't so worked up and desperate. She began to slowly circle Clover's clit, biting back that smug smirk as she studied her expression. Clover made no efforts of hiding her face, nor how good she felt, multiple sighs escaping her lips and her eyes fluttering shut. Her leg lifted to semi-hook around Paige's hip for easier access.

"More, please." She breathed. Clover knew that if there was one way to get what she wanted, it was by playing her cards right. By asking nicely.

And it seemed to work when Paige sped her movements up, rubbing tight circles as her mouth latched back onto the girl's chest. It was as if she couldn't get enough of her.

Paige's movements slowed, two digits circling the girl's entrance for what felt like an eternity before slipping in all at once.

A soft gasp left Clover's lips at the delicious stretch, her head tipped backwards as Paige continued the abuse on her chest. The blonde's fingers were pumping in and out of Clover's sopping cunt, and the sound of wet squelching would've flustered her if she'd cared enough.

"Oh- Fuck, Paige." Clover's hands came up to the girl's shoulders, steadying herself. Soft whimpers and the sound of kisses all across Clover's chest was all that could be heard through the weight room.

"Good, huh?" Her voice was low and sultry, eyes looking up at Clover's already fucked out face, who could only nod her head.

The familiar knot below her stomach started to tighten, nails digging into Paige's skin as she continued her abuse on her cunt, fingers curling deep, hitting that gummy spot just perfectly.

Clover feels like she's floating and suffocating all at once, her muscles and senses trembling with pleasure and she can feel her high approaching. This wasn't what she had planned—being at the mercy of Paige Bueckers—but there wasn't anywhere she'd rather have been in that moment.

"You close, baby?" Paige mumbled against her neck that she was now attacking with kisses, almost as if she could sense it. "Clenching on my fingers like a slut. You're that desperate, Mama?"

Once again, Clover could only nod her head, whimpering and whining were the only form of noise she could muster up.

Paige smirked against the crook of her neck before pulling back to get a good look of Clover. Her unoccupied hand grabbed the girl's chin, tilting her head back forwards. "Look at me or I'll stop." She near to demanded as her movements quickened.

Clover barely had any time to register what was happening, her eyes fluttering open only to be met by Paige's hungry eyes. The intimacy of it should've turned her on even more, should've brought her closer and while it did just that, it also scared her. Looking into Paige's eyes was a form of intimacy and vulnerability that Clover had never expected to experience with her, a language so foreign, one she’d never bothered to learn. Her heart was pounding in her chest, stomach fluttering and she didn't know whether it was due to Paige bringing her closer to her release, or if it was the girl's baby blue eyes staring deeply into her soul, almost as if wanting to find a home within.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted by the sudden feeling of Clover's climax washing over her, everything except the feeling of her all consuming orgasm, vanishing into thin air.

Just as quickly as it happened, it seemed to end when Paige's hand slipped out again, barely giving Clover the time to register anything. All she could do was watch how the blonde casually licked her fingers clean. "Tastes good." She spoke, but it sounded like she was more so speaking to herself.

Paige turned and a towel along with Clover's sports bra were already being handed to her. "To clean up with." She said, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

Before Clover could register anything, the blonde was already making her way towards the door. "See you tomorrow." She called over her shoulder, barely looking back as she left the weight room.

Clover could only stand there in shock. Did that really just happen? Did she really leave just like that? It's not as if she expected any aftercare or something as silly as a kiss, but standing topless and still catching her breath, Clover couldn't help but feel ashamed. Feel as if she had just been used and discarded so easily. It wasn't something she was used to. Heck, even she had the decency to help the girls she hooked up with get cleaned up and dressed before ditching them.

She scoffed humourlessly before putting her bra back on, tightly gripping her towel and walking out of the weight room herself in annoyance, and which she hated to admit, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #mission jealousy #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #wnba #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut

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buckyseternaldoll · 16 days ago

Note

I just wanted to say I loooove your bucky fics you write him so well 🥹🥹 if you are taking requests I have one for a bucky x reader where reader is sent to infiltrate/kill the thunderbolt but falls in love instead...cue the angst 🫢 feel free to ignore if it doesn't spark inspiration!!

Sorry for the delay, anon! Work’s been hectic and I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. But I really hope this was worth the wait. Thank you so much for requesting it!

𝓐 𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓦𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓓*𝓮

Summary: You were sent to kill the Thunderbolts. One bullet, one order, one clean exit. But you didn’t plan to fall in love with the man meant to die.

Disclaimer: suicidal self-sacrifice, blood/gore (not explicit), gun violence, emotional manipulation, grief, PTSD themes, explosive death, mentions of brainwashing/conditioning, guilt, betrayal, angst, reader is a double agent, team betrayal, final letter reading, quiet emotional breakdown, canon divergent

Word count: 6.3k

Author's Note: This involves multiple drafts being scrapped and me having mental breakdown in the midst of building the story 😔 Skipped formatting and not beta-d since it lags soooo much

They brought you in a few months after the Thunderbolts were formed.

You were no one special to them—just another weapon Valentina dusted off from some covert pile. Quiet, capable. A ghost in well-fitted tactical gear. Your aim was clean, your hand-to-hand record even cleaner. No frills, no baggage. You didn’t complain, didn’t ask questions, didn’t smile unless you needed to.

They didn’t welcome you, not really. But they didn’t reject you either.

You just… slipped in. Like water through cracks in the concrete. Like you were always there, just out of frame. A shadow that learned to cast itself beside theirs.

The team was a mess of personalities and pasts—grudges, trauma, sarcasm used like armor. They weren’t a unit. They were chaos stitched together with fraying thread. Nobody had room to hold anyone else’s weight. Not yours.

That was fine.

You weren’t here to belong.

You were here to finish the mission.

And you were very, very good at missions.

They didn’t know that while you watched their six from rooftops and cleared sniper nests with a single squeeze of your trigger… you were also out there every other night finishing jobs. Assassinations, poisonings, clean headshots behind diplomatic curtains. You slipped from the Watchtower like smoke, killed high-profile names while they slept, and came back just in time to pour yourself coffee and sit across from Bucky like nothing had happened.

Nobody questioned it. Not Valentina. Not Ava. Not even Sentry, with all his golden god perception.

You played emotion like a language. Smiled when needed. Looked tired when appropriate. Let your voice tremble just enough in mission briefs to seem human. It was all curated. Fabricated.

The only thing real was the mission.

Sunset Ops: Infiltrate. Observe. Eliminate. Terminate all Thunderbolts assets. Especially Bob Reynolds. Too unstable. Too dangerous.

So you studied them.

Learned how each one moved, fought, cracked under pressure. Mapped out their body language like pressure points on a doll. Even without the full spectrum of feelings, you could read them. You knew when Bob needed silence, when Yelena needed space, when Bucky needed grounding. Memorized the Watchtower’s layout until you could escape it blindfolded with one foot injured. You knew which rooms had faulty cameras. Which corridors echoed too loud. Which doors creaked.

You logged their weaknesses like you were sketching blueprints for destruction.

But somewhere along the way…

You started noticing the wrong things.

The quiet things.

You watched how Ava always kept one boot on when she slept, her back to the wall. How she blinked a few too many times when someone raised their voice, like her mind flinched faster than her body.

How John’s jaw clenched just slightly whenever someone mentioned Steve Rogers, the name sitting in his spine like a splinter.

How Bob could go full days without speaking, without moving much at all—book in hand, presence barely there. But Bucky always passed him tea. No one told him to. No one asked. He just did.

And Bucky…

You didn’t want to notice him.

Bucky Barnes.

He looked like he’d been tired for a hundred years. Like the world still sat too heavy on his shoulders. But he stood anyway. Always. Steady.

He spoke in short sentences, mostly to Valentina, sometimes to the team. But he spoke to you more than anyone else. Always in a voice softer than the one he used in briefings. Almost low. Almost careful.

He was the only one who’d repeat mission points when the room turned chaotic—when Ava and John argued or when Sentry’s grip on reality wavered. He’d calmly re-brief, every damn time, like he didn’t expect anyone to listen the first time. Like he understood.

He hovered behind the girls during recon. Watched corners others forgot. Subtle, silent coverage. When Ava limped, he adjusted his pace. When Valentina snapped too hard, he’d find a way to redirect the energy without saying much at all.

And then it got worse.

He noticed you.

“You changed your hair,” he said one morning, nonchalant but precise. You had—just shifted your part from left to right.

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. Didn’t look up from his gear. “Just looked different today.”

It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t even attention. It was just… observation. Like he was tracking you. Like he cared.

And it shouldn’t have made your skin warm like it did. It shouldn’t have made your stomach pull tight.

So you tried harder to ignore it.

You sharpened your knives with more force. You shot straighter. You reported back to your handlers late, but still lied and told them everything was on track. You told yourself it didn’t matter.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling like a mission.

And that scared you more than anything else.

—

You filed daily reports at first.

Detailed. Precise. Flawless.

“Walker has a blind spot on his right after shield recoil. Ava’s new phase control burns more energy than she lets on. Bob’s mental stability slips most severely after missions involving children.”

And Bucky?

You used to write plenty about him too. His reloading patterns. His soft knee from a past break. The way he always checked corners counter-clockwise. You studied him like you were supposed to—like a threat.

But over time… your reports on him thinned.

His name appeared less. Then barely at all.

You didn’t mean to do it. You just… stopped seeing him as an objective. You noticed less of his weaknesses and more of his habits. The way he always smelled faintly like gun oil and cedar soap. The creak of his boots when he walked into the briefing room two minutes early. How he’d look straight at you when he spoke—low voice, never rushed—like his words were meant for you and no one else.

You hadn’t written anything about him for almost three weeks.

And without knowing it… he’d become your weakness.

You just didn’t realize that yet.

—

Your handlers noticed.

They didn’t send questions. They sent silence.

And silence from them always meant danger.

They read your shortened logs like confessions. Words tapering off, softer, lazier. You said less. You felt more. They didn’t like it.

So they decided to act.

Without you.

You didn’t know the countdown had begun.

—

You kept spending time with Bucky.

Accidentally, at first.

The pantry was always cold after midnight, humming soft from overworked fridges and coffee machines. You wandered in for a tea packet and found him there—quietly nursing black coffee, leaning against the counter like he was trying to stay grounded.

He barely looked at you the first time.

Second time, he nodded.

By the fourth, he spoke.

“You always come here this late?”

You shrugged, fingertips brushing the countertop. “I like the silence. And the view’s better from the helipad, but pantry’s warmer.”

He chuckled. Low, quiet, barely there—but it was real.

The next night, he joined you on the helipad.

You told him you liked the way the sky looked from up there. “Makes me feel like I belong,” you’d said, without realizing how honest it sounded.

He didn’t mock you. Didn’t press.

He just sat beside you, thigh brushing yours, both of you watching the stars in silence like the war down below didn’t exist for a few stolen minutes.

After that, he started showing up more.

Lingered in rooms after everyone left. Walked beside you in hallways. Ate slower when you were around. Sat closer during meetings. Spoke softer when he addressed you, voice low enough to catch but not loud enough for anyone else.

And you—without realizing—became his shadow.

You started knowing where he was without needing to ask. If he wasn’t in the debriefing room, you didn’t look lost—you just turned and started walking, already knowing he’d be in the armory, reassembling his sidearm with his brows drawn.

You knew how he took his lunch. How he drank his coffee. You handed him his usual before he even asked. He didn’t comment. Just gave you that look again—a quiet, unreadable one, like he was trying to figure you out but wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

You even started completing his sentences.

Not on purpose. It just happened.

One day in the war room, he said, “We’ll need someone to cover the west corridor if—”

“If Ava’s phasing eats her charge, yeah,” you murmured.

He looked at you. Slightly stunned. The room went quiet.

Alexei, across the table, barked out a laugh. “Is she your translator now, Bucky? Or did you finally clone yourself, huh?”

John snorted. “She’s even got his grunt down.”

You should’ve laughed it off. Should’ve shrugged and played it cool.

But Bucky just stared at you—something unreadable flickering in those tired steel-blue eyes. Not cold. Not suspicious.

Just… aware.

And maybe a little afraid.

Of you.

Or of himself.

—

The mission wasn’t supposed to go south.

Just a recon—clear terrain, tag enemy movement, and get out before anyone noticed you were there. You weren’t expecting the sniper.

No one was.

You’d felt it before you heard it—a shift in air, a crack that split the sky—and then pain. White-hot, slicing past your cheek like fire.

You staggered back, dizzy from the force. Would’ve fallen, exposed, right in the shooter’s path if a wall of metal hadn’t slammed in front of you.

Bucky.

His vibranium arm took the full hit.

You heard him grunt. A second shot followed—this one slicing across his side—but he didn’t move. He stayed in front of you. Stayed.

Return fire crackled across the trees. John and Ava covered the ridge. Alexei roared something in Russian and hurled a metal crate for cover.

But you were still there, pressed to the dirt, cheek wet with blood, staring up at the man who shielded you like you were something precious.

He looked back, breathing hard. “You good?”

You nodded before your voice caught up. “Y-Yeah. I’m—”

You weren’t. Not at all.

—

The extraction was messy. You were all bleeding, but no one died.

Back at the Watchtower, medbay lights hummed above your head as you stood next to Bucky’s cot — your fingers ghosting over gauze, trembling only when he wasn’t looking.

You insisted on treating his side. Brushed off the team medic. You didn’t even realize you were snapping at people until Alexei raised his brows and said, “She’s got it. Let the girl fuss.”

Bucky sat still, legs spread, shirt off. Blood dried across his ribs. His body bore too many scars to count. Some clean. Some jagged. Some that looked like they still whispered at night.

You dabbed the wound in silence, watching how his chest rose with every careful breath. Your fingers pressed gentler than needed, like any extra pressure would break him.

“You always this soft when patching people up?” he asked, voice low.

You didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because your chest had started to tighten.

Your hands shook as you wrapped the bandage, and when your palm brushed his skin… something squirmed in your stomach. Not pain. Not adrenaline. Something worse.

Guilt.

You were trained to kill. Not to mourn. Not to care.

But here he was. Bleeding because of you. Standing in front of a bullet that should’ve ended you. Still speaking to you like nothing had changed.

You didn’t deserve it.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured, glancing down, his hand catching your wrist mid-wrap. “Don’t do that.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

He held your stare. Not hard. Not scolding. Just steady. Warm.

“Don’t blame yourself. I’d take that shot again if it meant you walked away. That’s what we do.”

He paused. Let his words settle.

“You and me—we’ve got each other’s backs. That’s the team.”

The word team punched straight through your ribcage.

You dropped your eyes, breath catching in your throat. The back of your throat burned. The sting climbed behind your eyes.

A team.

That felt… warm.

Too warm.

You bit your tongue. Nodded. Tried to keep your face blank.

But the corners of your eyes stung anyway, and Bucky saw it. You knew he did. He didn’t say a word about it. Just let go of your wrist slowly, like he was giving you space to choose what came next.

He didn’t need to say anything.

Because for the first time, you understood what that twisting in your chest was.

Guilt.

Real, human, gut-wrenching guilt.

You weren’t supposed to feel it. You were rewired not to. But he—without even meaning to—was fixing you.

Bit by bit. Wound by wound.

And that terrified you more than any bullet ever could.

You left the medbay long after he’d fallen asleep. The sterile scent clung to your hands. The bandage wrap still burned in your memory.

You needed air. Or silence. Or something to stop the noise in your chest.

—

The Watchtower was dead quiet after midnight.

Most of the others had turned in. Ava left her boots by the door again, probably already passed out in the medbay lounge. John grumbled something about ice packs and disappeared. Alexei had made a dramatic exit, demanding “at least ten hours of heroic sleep.”

You stayed behind.

The pantry lights were dim—yellowed, humming, casting long shadows across the metal counters. You sat at the small table by the window, hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. The steam was gone. Your thoughts weren’t.

They were loud tonight.

Bucky had taken a bullet for you.

Not just a graze, not an accident. He saw it coming and threw himself in the way. His blood was still under your nails. His voice still echoed in your head:

“We’ve got each other’s backs. That’s the team.”

The word team kept curling up behind your ribs like a hot, painful knot.

You shouldn’t be here. Not like this.

You should’ve been writing reports. Reassessing targets. Preparing for termination. Instead, you were watching the stars reflect off the window and wondering how long it’d take his wound to close.

Your handlers never gave you a deadline for Sunset Ops. The mission was simple: Terminate all Thunderbolts. Clean. Swift. When ready.

No dates.

Just pressure.

But as far as you could tell, the whole thing had gone off course.

Or maybe it went east.

Because Bucky was sitting on your east side now. He sat close, shoulder angled slightly toward you, his left side—the wounded one—facing you. A quiet show of trust.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the edge of the bandage peeking beneath his shirt—left side, under the ribs. Healing fast, but it still made you wince.

You hadn’t even heard him come in.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t grunt or ask what you were doing.

He just sat beside you, like he always did lately. Like here was the only place he wanted to be.

You didn’t look at him right away.

You were too afraid the tears still burning behind your eyes would show. So you just stared at your cup, letting the silence stretch.

And he let it.

Like he knew.

Eventually, your gaze shifted. Just slightly. Just enough to study him from the corner of your eye. His side—where you’d dressed the wound—was bare beneath his black tee, the bandages no longer needed. The skin had already begun healing. Faint scar tissue. Bruising. But no open wound.

Super soldier perks.

You exhaled, slow and quiet.

Somehow, that made it worse.

You wanted to be relieved. But all it did was make your chest ache.

He turned his head toward you then, as if sensing you needed it. His eyes were tired, but soft. Kind.

He didn’t ask what was wrong.

Instead, he said, “You ever get so many thoughts running at once, they just… start screaming over each other?”

You blinked, startled by how close he came to naming it.

He kept going. “Like… nothing’s clear. Everything’s loud. And no matter how long you sit with it, the decision just… won’t come. ‘Cause it doesn’t feel like any of the choices are good ones.”

Your throat went tight.

He glanced down, mouth twitching at one corner. “Yeah. I’ve been there.”

The silence that followed felt warmer than it should’ve. He didn’t press. Didn’t look at you like you were a ticking bomb.

Just… let you exist beside him.

Then, gently, almost like an afterthought, he added, “You’re a good person.”

You finally turned to him, stunned.

He didn’t look away.

“A damn good teammate,” he continued. “Reliable. Smart. And you don’t leave anyone behind.” He paused. “I’m… glad you’re with us.”

You swallowed. Your mouth was too dry. Your eyes burned.

“And whatever it is… whatever’s going on in your head,” he said softly, “I know you’ll do what’s right. Not just for you. But for everyone.”

His hand came to your shoulder. Light. Steady. A squeeze that was too short, too innocent, too much.

Then he stood.

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “You think better after sleep.”

And he left.

Just like that.

Left you in the kitchen with a cup of cold tea and a heart that was beating too hard, too fast.

You stared at the door after him, numb and shaking.

And that was when you knew.

You fucking loved him.

Not just wanted. Not just admired.

You loved him.

And there was no mission in the world that could bury that now.

—

Everything changed after that night.

Not in some dramatic, cinematic way.

But in the small ways that mattered.

Your body started betraying you.

The first time Bucky brushed past you in the hallway, your pulse spiked so hard your knees went weak. You recovered instantly—assassin reflexes—but the warmth lingered too long on your skin. A ghost of pressure where his shoulder had bumped yours.

Your hands, steady through sniper fire and open blade fights, now trembled when he entered a room. And you hated it. Hated how your heart wouldn’t obey. How no amount of mental commands could slow its rhythm when he sat too close.

You started avoiding him.

Subtly, at first. Ducking out of briefings early. Choosing the opposite training mat. Sitting two chairs over at meal times. But Bucky noticed.

Of course he did.

He didn’t push. Just watched you more.

And the others noticed too.

Yelena had that way of looking at people like she was five steps ahead in the conversation. Bob tilted his head a little too long during recon drills when you answered Bucky’s questions too fast. Ava kept giving you looks like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right shape for it.

Even Alexei, with all his chaotic noise, leaned over one day in the gym and grumbled, “The sexual tension is making my joints stiff. Resolve it before I die of awkward.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because nothing about this was resolvable.

Until Yelena forced your hand.

—

It was a fake debrief. You realized it too late.

Yelena set the time. “Just you and Bucky,” she said. “Team’s scattered. Intel recon. Blah blah. Just go.” She winked as she walked off. ‘Fix your sexual tension, or I’ll do it for you.’ Classic Yelena.

You didn’t think much of it. Your brain had been foggy for days, caught between the magnetic pull and the dagger in your chest. You walked into the room like you always did—rigid, unreadable. But then you saw the setup.

One table. Two chairs.

No files. No mission board. Just… space.

Bucky was already sitting, one hand loosely curled around a pen. He glanced up at you like he’d been expecting this. Like he knew.

You sat.

Silence hung between you, thick and humming. You couldn’t look at him too long without your chest tightening.

Finally, Bucky spoke. Low. Cautious. “Everyone thinks we fought.”

You gave a quiet, humorless huff. “Let them.”

“Yelena doesn’t believe in letting.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The silence returned for a beat, before you broke it. Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ve never felt this before.”

Bucky frowned. “What?”

You lifted your eyes, met his. “Anything. Beyond adrenaline, I mean. I don’t know guilt. I don’t know joy. I didn’t know what warmth felt like until… until I met you. All of you.”

You swallowed. Your throat ached.

“My emotions weren’t brainwashed out of me. I was just… rewired. Hydra called it streamlining. Cut out what made me hesitate. Joy, guilt, love—just noise to them. I was left with precision, and silence. Kept the things that made me efficient. But lately…”

You couldn’t say it. Couldn’t put words to the way your stomach curled when Bucky leaned too close, or how your chest hurt when he took a bullet for you.

Instead, you said, “It’s like my circuits are shorting.”

His eyes softened.

“I used to think it was just me,” he said, voice low, gravel warm. “The way I feel things. Too slow. Too much. Too wrong. But you…”

He leaned back slightly, studying you like you were a mystery he’d started to understand without needing all the clues.

“You feel like… familiarity.”

You looked up, startled.

“I didn’t get it at first. Why I felt calm when you were around. Why I stopped checking exits when you were on mission with me.” He paused. “But now it makes sense.”

His voice dipped.

“You’re like me.”

That hit deeper than you expected. Your heart clenched so hard you thought it might bruise.

“You put your back to the wall when you sit down. You remember who limps and who flinches. You memorize everyone else’s scars, but forget to name your own.”

You stayed quiet, afraid your voice would break.

“I don’t know what this is between us,” Bucky said softly. “But it doesn’t scare me.”

You turned your head away. Your chest felt too full, too raw.

Then you felt it—his hand brushing yours on the table. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just there.

“You don’t have to fix anything tonight,” he said. “But I hope you stop running. ‘Cause I’m not chasing you. I’m just… here.”

Your fingers curled slightly beneath his. Just enough.

You still couldn’t say the words. Not yet.

But part of you cracked open.

And part of him healed.

—

It started like a blackout.

You were all in the lounge—sore, half-bored, scattered across couches and chairs. Alexei was snoring with his feet on the coffee table, Yelena had commandeered the remote, John was bickering with Bob over something dumb like fuel ratios, and Bucky was sitting near you, shoulders barely brushing, warm and solid.

And then the lights snapped off.

Not flickered. Not dimmed.

Snapped.

The hum of the Watchtower died. Silence folded in on itself. Thick. Too thick.

Everyone stilled.

“Okay,” Alexei muttered, sitting up. “Not funny. Who touch fuse?”

“No one moved,” Ava whispered, already pulling a blade from her boot.

Your stomach dropped.

The silence wasn’t just silence.

It was controlled. Medicated.

You felt it in your teeth. That hum just under hearing. Synthetic.

Then—

thfft.

A whisper.

A bullet.

Glass shattered above Yelena’s head.

Another shot.

John tackled Bob behind the couch. Ava rolled forward into a low crouch. Alexei stood tall, eyes flaring wild.

Chaos.

Gunfire—soft, silenced, precise—sang through the darkness. Not random. Coordinated. Like they knew every hallway. Every blind spot. Every weak point.

And they did.

Your blood went cold.

“No—no, no, no—” you breathed, heart pounding as the pieces snapped together too fast.

You knew this pattern. This kill sequence. This method of entry.

These weren’t just attackers.

They were operatives.

Yours.

“Everyone GET DOWN!” you shouted, drawing your sidearm. “They’re enhanced!”

Bucky pulled you behind the reinforced wall near the stairwell, instinct taking over. “Enhanced? How the hell do you—”

“They’re on serum,” you gasped. “Not ours. Not the government’s. It’s… it’s Barnes-adjacent. It’s your blood.”

Everything froze around you for a second.

Even the storm of bullets.

Bucky’s eyes locked with yours. “What?”

You didn’t get to answer.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?” Yelena barked across the hall, ducking behind cover. Her voice was razor-sharp. Furious. “How the hell do you know that?!”

You looked at her. Your mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

You couldn’t say it. Not here. Not with blood in the air and Bucky breathing like a loaded weapon beside you.

All you could whisper was:

“I’m sorry.”

You hadn’t meant for it to unravel like this.

You wanted to explain. To beg. To scream that you weren’t who you were anymore.

But the way Yelena looked at you?

Like you were a ghost wearing someone they trusted.

That hurt worse than any bullet.

Ava swore under her breath. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut deep—quiet fury wrapped in restraint. She didn’t yell. Ava never did. But her silence hurt more. John looked like he was ready to knock your teeth out.

But you couldn’t afford guilt right now.

Because they were coming in fast.

Bucky grabbed your arm. “Talk later. Move now.”

You nodded. Shoved everything down.

But he didn’t let go of your wrist.

Even as you ducked bullets, even as Sentry finally emerged—Bucky stayed on you.

You knew what he was doing.

He was protecting you.

Still.

Even now.

He didn’t know.

Didn’t know you brought this death to their doorstep. That you’d once been meant to end them. That those enhanced soldiers out there moved like you, because you trained with them.

They were your people.

And now they were going to kill your team.

Unless you killed them first.

—

The base was a war zone now.

Shots echoed off the walls in too-close succession. Bob had gone full Sentry—gold and energy and rage splitting the darkness like lightning. Ava was phasing in and out of walls, striking when she could. John and Alexei moved with brutal force, backs to each other like mismatched chess pieces. Yelena was leading the counter, deadly efficient—graceful and unforgiving.

And you were barely breathing.

Bucky had pulled you into a weapons cache room on the eastern side of the Watchtower. Emergency lighting flickered overhead, casting him in strips of red and shadow. He looked like a man caught between two mirrors—one past, one future.

He didn’t ask if you were okay.

He just looked at you with those piercing, tired eyes and said:

“It’s them, isn’t it?”

You froze. Couldn’t lie.

He already knew.

You nodded once.

Bucky exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that sounded like it came from years ago.

You both moved in sync—sweeping shelves for guns, blades, anything with weight and range. It was instinctive. Familiar. Like you’d trained together for years.

Because in some ways… you had.

Not literally.

But emotionally.

Same pain. Same silence. Same shadows.

“I didn’t want this,” you whispered, voice thin.

“I know,” he said. Soft. Certain.

You turned toward him. “How can you say that?”

He met your gaze without flinching. “Because I see it in your eyes. The same thing I used to see in mine when I started remembering who I was.”

Your throat tightened.

“You’re not like them anymore,” he continued. “You were. But you’re not now.”

You looked down at your shaking hands. “I was supposed to kill you.”

“I figured,” he said, picking up a loaded rifle without pause.

“I studied you. Every breath. Every weakness. I memorized your scars.”

He stepped closer.

“And then you stopped.”

You froze.

“You stopped seeing me as a target. I felt it.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding.

He didn’t touch you. Didn’t need to.

“I trusted the wrong people for a long time,” he said. “But this time? I think I got it right.”

Your eyes burned. “Bucky…”

He offered the smallest, saddest smile. “You’re not broken. Just bruised.”

Something inside you cracked.

But before you could speak again—an explosion rocked the east wing.

They were getting closer.

You both turned toward the hallway. The reinforced door rattled under pressure. Gunfire grew louder. Footsteps closing in. The serum-enhanced agents were breaching fast.

Bucky checked the last clip on his belt. “We won’t hold them all.”

You were already thinking three steps ahead.

No escape routes.

Too many incoming.

And they wouldn’t stop until every Thunderbolt was dead.

Unless someone stopped them first.

You looked down at your belt.

Saw the grenade.

Felt the pin.

And something inside you just… clicked.

You turned to him.

“Bucky.”

He turned too—eyes narrowing at the change in your voice.

You stepped forward. Closer than you’d ever dared.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His brow furrowed. “You already said that.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I mean it now. For everything. For hurting you. For being what I was. For not telling you sooner. For not choosing you faster.”

His eyes flickered—realization starting to settle.

“I never knew what love was,” you said, chest aching with every word. “But I think I’ve been falling into it… every second you looked at me like I was worth saving.”

You reached up—fingers trembling—and touched his cheek. Just once.

He closed his eyes at the contact. Just for a second.

Then you stepped back.

He looked down.

Saw the pin in your fingers.

His breath caught.

“No—wait—”

But it was too late.

You were already walking toward the door. The lock was off. The hallway was crawling with enhanced assassins, heads turning the moment they saw you.

You didn’t raise your gun.

You raised your voice.

“HEY!”

They turned.

Then—

Click.

The pin dropped.

You smiled through the tears.

And you whispered, one last time, only loud enough for Bucky to hear:

“I love you.”

Then light.

And sound.

And silence.

—

You were gone before he could say it back.

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was final.

And then…

[BUCKY POV]

The explosion didn’t sound like the others.

It was too close.

Too sharp.

Too personal.

Bucky’s ears rang as he hit the floor from the shockwave, arm curled over his head, the force punching the air from his lungs.

Smoke. Heat. Screams in the hallway.

And the smell.

Blood.

He didn’t get up right away.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because he knew.

His heart already knew before his mind caught up.

When he finally staggered upright, debris crunched under his boots. The hallway outside the weapons room was scorched. Burnt. Red-lit. Torn apart.

So were the bodies.

The enhanced assassins were in pieces.

And so were you.

Bits of tactical fabric. A smear of blood that didn’t match theirs. A melted commlink. One boot. Nothing whole.

Nothing human left to hold.

Bucky didn’t breathe for several seconds.

He just stood there, staring, like the floor had been yanked out from under time itself.

You were gone.

And all you’d left behind was—

“I love you.”

He heard it in his head again. Not a memory. A scar.

Not just in his ears.

In his chest.

The others came running.

Ava first, phasing through the wall with wide eyes.

Then John, Yelena, Alexei. Sentry stumbling down the hall, Bob’s gold aura flickering wildly as he saw the mess.

No one said anything.

They didn’t need to.

Bucky stood in the middle of it, barely blinking. Smoke curling around his shoulders. Blood drying on his neck. His vibranium arm still clenched, shaking slightly.

“She was one of them,” Yelena said first, breathless. “Wasn’t she?”

A pause.

Bucky didn’t look up.

“She was.”

No one moved.

“She was,” Bucky said again, softer now. “But she chose us.”

Alexei rubbed a hand over his face. “She blew herself up, Bucky.”

“She saved us,” Bucky snapped—his voice like breaking glass. “You all saw those bastards. They wouldn’t have stopped. She ended it.”

Silence.

“She ended herself,” John muttered, not cruel—just stunned. “For us.”

No one could speak after that.

Bucky crouched slowly. Picked up the pin from the grenade. Closed his metal fist around it.

He didn’t cry.

Not yet.

He just stood again—taller this time. Cold. Steady. Determined.

“I’m going to finish it,” he said, eyes locked on the smoldering hallway. “Every one of those fuckers that sent her here? That trained her? That broke her?”

His voice dropped.

“I’ll put them all in the ground.”

He started walking.

“Bucky—where are you going?” Ava called.

He didn’t stop.

“To let her free.”

[END OF POV]

—

The funeral was held three days after the raid.

By then, the Thunderbolts had burned the organization to the ground.

Valentina turned a blind eye when Bucky led the charge—files torn apart, facilities reduced to rubble, scientists and operatives arrested or buried beneath collapsed concrete. She didn’t protest. Just signed the paperwork and moved pieces on her board like it was always part of the plan. The team freed over seventy civilians—stolen from their lives, used for testing, stripped of their names.

They had faces. Families. Futures again.

But none of it made him feel any less hollow.

Because you were still gone.

The grave was symbolic.

There wasn’t much to bury.

A few fragments of armor. A nameplate. A pin.

The others stood in silence as the dirt fell—John with his jaw clenched, Ava still and guarded, Alexei weeping more openly than anyone expected. Bob, back in control of his form, said a few soft words. Yelena whispered a goodbye in Russian, kneeling once before stepping back.

Bucky didn’t move.

He stood at the foot of the grave, fists buried in the pockets of his coat, eyes fixed on the carved letters of your name.

His throat felt too tight to speak.

He hadn’t said anything.

Not during the ceremony. Not after the debrief. Not since you—

God.

He hadn’t even told you.

He hadn’t told you he loved you back.

Hadn’t told you how many times he looked for your face in a crowded room, just to ground himself. How you’d become his anchor without him realizing it.

The world around him kept moving. Soil crunching. People whispering. Wind brushing over forgotten flowers.

But he stayed still. Like grief had nailed his boots to the earth.

Until a quiet step pulled him back.

“Bucky.”

Ava’s voice broke through gently.

He turned his head. She approached with quiet steps, something small in her gloved hand.

“I found this,” she said softly. “Yelena and I were clearing her room. Val sent a few people to box her things, but… we stopped them when we found it.”

She handed him an envelope.

Your handwriting. Sharp. Small. Tilted slightly to the right.

His name.

Just his.

He stared at it for a long time before opening it.

And then, with frozen fingers and a heart breaking open, he read.

—

Bucky,

If you’re reading this… It means I didn’t make it.

And no, I didn’t write that to be dramatic. I wrote it because I knew I was playing with borrowed time.

I was going to tell you everything. I was going to stand in front of all of you, explain who I was—who I used to be—and pray you’d all listen before judging. Before hating me.

I was scared.

Not of dying.

Not even of the mission.

I was scared of what it meant to feel.

Because I never really did before.

But then you came in with your tired eyes and your quiet voice and your kindness that didn’t ask for anything in return… and suddenly I couldn’t stop feeling.

I noticed you first.

Noticed how you always stood with your back to a wall, but left your side open when I entered the room. Like you trusted me.

Noticed how your voice got softer when you talked to me. How you lingered in rooms we shared. How you remembered my schedule better than I did. How you watched the stars when you thought no one was looking.

I watched you, too.

More than I was supposed to.

More than I meant to.

And somewhere between the long nights and the briefings and the bruises and the silences… I fell in love with you.

I think I’ve been in love with you longer than I even knew what it was.

I knew they were growing suspicious. I should’ve said something sooner. But I didn’t—I was selfish. I wanted more time. Time with you, with the Thunderbolts. And I’m sorry. I really am.

And if I was lucky enough to survive long enough to confess, I was going to ask the team to let me do one thing first—I was going to destroy my handlers.

I was going to take everything I knew and burn them from the inside out.

Then come back. Then tell you. All of you.

But mostly you.

Because you deserved the truth.

And you deserved someone who chose you.

So here’s my truth.

I loved you, Bucky Barnes.

Not because you saved me. But because you saw me. And I hope, wherever I am now… I’ll keep watching over you.

Like I always did.

Love,

—Yours

P.S. If I ever get another chance—in this life or the next—please let it be with you.

—

By the time he reached the bottom of the letter, his hand was shaking.

His mouth parted. His chest ached like something had caved in.

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in years…

He let himself cry.

Not in rage.

Not in shame.

But in grief.

And love.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #જ⁀➴ by elle #requested fic by elle #bucky barnes angst #mcu!bucky fic #mcu!bucky angst #thunderbolts!bucky

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leftpoetrymoon · 2 months ago

Text

Threads of love. (Part 2)

Pairings:- Xavier x you (non-mc)

Genre:- Angst!!!!

"Hello, I'm MC! You must be the new rookie right?"

Voice that sounds like angel, eyes that looks innocent, smile that can charm anyone, looks like a total goddess...

"Hello? Miss!" You quickly snapped out of your thoughts when she called you again. Noticing that you started to pay attention to her she gave you one of her charming smile.

"Ah.. Forgive me for my absence of mind. I'm. y/n. And I joined Jenna's team by Tara." You spoke to her with a neutral tone that made her eyebrows twitch.

She sits besides you and looked at you up and down. Since no one was at the association it was the nice chance for her to talk to you freely. "You joined by Tara? Oh! I get it! You're the one who saved her from the wanderers right!? She said your evol was amazing!!

'You smiled at her slightly and nod your head. " Yep. My evol is based on stars" she tilted her head and looked at you confused. "You see, stars shine brightly with their own energy, not like the moon who borrows energy from the sun. So just like the stars, I create my own energy."

"That means you create any type? Woah! No wonder jenna choose in a blink of an eye! You're a rare one y/n!!" She shook your hand and smiled but you forgot to notice that she was looking at your red thread."

I see, you already introduced yourself to y/n, MC. Welcome to the hunter's association y/n. I believe you'll do great job." Jenna suddenly came inside and looked at you.

"I'll do my best captain!"

Just like that, your days at linkon as a hunter started. You carried out your missions gracefully and silently. But shined like a star. That's when you noticed a red thread attached on your pinky finger.

Hah! No way... It's not the red thread right? But.. Your eyes are good and it looked like just the soulmate thread! You're doomed y/n. You should've knew better when Astra made the deal with you!

You saw him. Smiling. Not at you, but at MC. You turned to walk away that's when you felt the tug. You slowly looked at the thread which was connecting you to Xavier.

He still didn't noticed your presence. It stings. It stings your heart. Doesn't it y/n? Hell it does. Should you let him go? Let him be free? He looked so happy with her....

You managed to avoid him after a few days. But fate is a dramatic bitch right? One day Jenna assigned you on a mission with Xavier. When you walk in Xavier and Jenna were talking, you silently went to them and cleared your throat.

"Ah, y/n you've finally arrived. This is Xavier. He's your partner for this mission" Both you and Xavier looked at each other for a brief min and turned to Jenna.Hah... Just when you thought you can avoid him you get tangled with him again. Since none of you decided to speak, Jenna opened her mouth again. "Trust me, this mission is a dangerous one. That's why I choose you both. Recently we've founded a deserted experiment lab near Chansia. It looked like it was built by ever. You two are the best solution for this mission."

"Ever? I've already went on a mission like that with MC. why can't I go with for this one too?" You looked at Xavier and smiled sadly. Was he the one you loved? Was he the one who devoted his life to you? He looked like he was irritated by your presence... Oh how you wish he holds your cheek and smile at you just like before...

"Xavier. Understand the situation." Jenna silenced him a stern tone and looked at you. "I know that you're a solo hunter, but trust me for this mission you really need to have a partner for this mission.

"Just like that days went by and your mission finally arrived. Both you and Xavier when to Chansia and arrived at the outskirts. You noticed how Xavier stole glances at you from time to time.

You looked at the red thread and it shined brightly since he was right next to you. Maybe.. He finally started to remember? Does he? What a naive soul you are y/n...

Just when you decided to kill the silence Xavier suddenly spoke to you. "So.. You're a solo hunter?" You looked at him from the corner of your eye and nodded your head. "MC talked about you..."

Again her.. Can't he just talk to you without mentioning her? "Really? How does she described me?" You stopped walking and looked at him. He looked down at you and for a minute he looked like he remembered you but he quickly shakes his head.

"She only told about you briefly.. But looking at you, you look like someone who lost your spark" your eyes widened his words. How he easily reads your mind even when he don't remember you...

Both of you quickly finished your mission and went to the subway. The train to Linkon arrives shortly and you sat next to each other. The train was empty since it's nearly midnight. That's when you noticed the star tassel.

Ha. The irony.. He still have your gift but he can't remember you.. You looked at him who was sleeping. Philos is dead. Both of you can't go back. The deal you made with Astra is now slowly choking you. Why.. Just why do you have to see the thread now? You're the one who made the decision to save him...

You can't go back on that y/n. Did you forget? You need to suffer y/n. You gently stroked his cheek and kissed his forehead. This was supposed to be his last spring on earth. But, because of you now he can live forever. But he can't live with you right y/n? You already the rumours about him and MC. Maybe in another universe can he be yours once again?

H̶e̶ w̶i̶l̶l̶.̶ H̶e̶'̶s̶ a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶s̶.̶

As you continued to stroke his cheek he suddenly mumbled your name in his sleep. "Please don't leave me y/n..." Tears wells up in your eyes but you quick wiped them away. He still physically remembers you.

After that mission you started to avoid him like a plague. Yes, he doesn't notice that but his heart aches for something that he can't remember. He looked at MC who was laying on his lap but it didn't feel right.

Jenna assigned you on a solo mission this time and you went at the location. Suddenly your heart felt heavy. The same pain when you died at your first life striked you again. You fell down to your knees and pressed your hand on your chest. Your whole body felt like it was on fire.

That's when it strikes. You looked at the thread and your worst nightmare came true. The thread didn't shine. You know what this means MC is kissing Xavier. That devil... She destroyed your soul just like she explained to you yesterday.

You went into your house after the mission and saw that the door was open. You are damn sure that you locked the house before went for the mission. Slowly you went inside, and you saw her. You saw MC was sitting at your couch.

"MC? How did you came inside?" She suddenly stood up and walked to you. "Why did you came to Linkon? You should've gone somewhere else. Why do you have to see him again!?" Your eyes widened at her outburst. Before you spoke she interrupted you.

"I knew you were his soulmate! But, why can't you just stay away? You've made a deal with my brother right? You know what? He won't remember you and I won't let him!"With that she walked out of your house and slammed the door.

You still can't believe what happened. How does she know about the deal? Moreover, she called Astra as her brother!? Slowly you remember that Astra had a sister. The cruel Deity of all.. But she have no power since she was banished for stealing the creatio protocore from the forseer.

Now you know why Astra made Xavier forget you. For his sister he destroyed your love.. You should've known better when you saw her first. But after all we always judge a book by it's cover.

Your body can't handle the pain and you slowly sat infront of a tree and looked at the sky. Maybe you should let him go.. He looked happy with her. You looked at the thread and laughed. Why does your fate always ends in the most cruel way?

In your first life, you didn't think about love. You only focused on studies and getting treated. Because of your mother you still had the will to live. Your mother... Oh how you wish you see her again? You remember her.. How she looked sad when you say your heart hurts. How she gently caressed your head and rocked you to sleep..

And then you met Xavier at a group project. That's when your fate changed. You, who avoided love all of your life begin to develop feelings for him. Maybe that was the beginning of your tragedy? But you didn't regret it. You never regretted loving him.

Because loving him was your only cure. That's why you died at his arms peacefully watching his face. At that time you didn't know there was a thread connecting both of you.

At your second life you born with the same illness again. But this time you lost your mother right after you born. At the age of 16 you met him again. The same boy you loved. But life was so cruel to you y/n. So cruel. This time you willingly sacrificed your life for Philos.

And at that time you knew your star won't come back.

Then? You sacrificed your love too. To save his life you made a deal with Astra without knowing his plan. But do you know? When you accepted the deal, you're the one who gave half of your soul to him. But you didn't know this. And because of that you started to see the red thread in this life at linkon.

This is your last spring on earth. You laughed and looked at the sky. Maybe this is for the better. You should cut the thread. You should him free from you. You should end your fate.

Tears wells up in your eyes and falls freely on the ground. It hurts so much... Even when you're the one who made the decision. Why can't we love freely? Why can't we love someone without hurting? Why can't we be happy?"

I'm sorry Xavier, but I think it's for the best... Maybe in another life can I be yours again?

"You slowly took out your sword and cut the red thread. The thread that connects the two of you. Your whole body felt so light.. Like you are floating away.. You looked at you hands which was slowly transformed into petals. You're slowly dissolving into the air. But did you forget?

Y̶o̶u̶ g̶a̶v̶e̶ h̶a̶l̶f̶ o̶f̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ s̶o̶u̶l̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶m̶.̶ T̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶e̶a̶n̶s̶ y̶o̶u̶ t̶w̶o̶ a̶r̶e̶ b̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ f̶o̶r̶e̶v̶e̶r̶

Your existence got erased. You are now forgotten by everyone except him who now remember you.

Xavier was on a mission when he felt the pain. He fells down to his knees and clutched his heart. He can't understand what's happening. His head felt like it was going to split. That's when he saw the red thread.

Too late isn't it?

He remembers. He finally remembers you. The one he devoted his life. How much of a fool he was? How he didn't recognize you? Tears wells up in his eyes but he didn't wipe it. He hurt you so much right? He always looked at her with the same gaze that was only reserved you.

It must have pained your heart right? He should find you now. He should apologize to you for the pain he caused. Hell he even grovel at your feet for that. With the flash of light he went to the association and searched for you.

But where were you? Everyone looked at him like he was a madman. He saw Tara and went to her. "Tara? Where is y/n?"

Tara looked at him with a confused gaze. "y/n? Who is that Xavier? I don't know anyone like that." Xavier felt his heart got dropped. "Y/n, Tara! You're the one helped her to get into the association by Jenna!"

Tara widened eyes at his outburst but she was confused. Because she didn't know anyone like that. What's more confusing is he's saying she's the one who recommended you to Jenna. "Xavier, there is no one like that. There are no new hunters for the past 6 months. And i didn't recommend anyone to Jenna."

Xavier can't believe what is happening. Why can't no one remembers you? Why does it everyone forgot you except him? He rushed to your apartment and ring the doorbell except you to open.

But there was no one.

Tag list:- @jihae222 @corvid007 @an-ever-angry-bi @lunia-likes-pomegranet @koojunweh @brailsthesmolgurl @nezuswritingdesk @umiwu @silverianni @sylusgirlie7 @llamabois @hihe @celestesuyls @browneyedgirl22 @sabage101 @ourgoddessathena @poptrim @satansthiccasscheeksreblogacc @blaire123 @zeynatura @soobinloveclub @akiralimeheart @vspxriddles @justpassingdontworry @eialovescats @crazygirl3001 @bri3423 @alyssac9 @chocochip-gaia @needsumcomfypillowstosleep

266 notes · View notes

moonchildxoxx · 26 days ago

Note

Tsu’tey x avatar

Jakes younger sister, who was sent to Graces school to learn alongside the other clan children, had been the youngest of the avatar drivers However, after the horrific attack, the girl ran away scared of what the RDA was capable of. since she was still considered a child, the clan took her in. To Jake's horror, he was told that his sister had passed away but he eventually learned that she was alive and living a life within the clan as Tsu'tey's mate ? Please 🙏

An: sorry for missing 3 updates was busy working on this one just wasn’t happy with it

Tsu'tey x Reader (Jake’s Sister)

The Child of Two Worlds

You arrived on Pandora like a ghost, too quiet for your age, too burdened for someone barely thirteen.

The brass back at the RDA had only allowed it because they preyed on the weak. You had lost your parents. Your brothers, both almost 18, had options. Jake was heading into the military, and Tommy had been offered a full ride to university paid by the RDA as long as he worked for them. But you were looking at foster care, and there was no way your brothers were going to let you be placed in the system where it wasn't uncommon for teens to “runaway.” so they offered tommy a deal let them use you as sorts of test dummy to see how a younger body would do as an avatar driver and they’d bring you to pandora ahead and you could stay with him there. And you? You were sent ahead. Alone.

Grace Augustine was never sentimental. You had expected a team. A guide. Maybe someone to hold your hand on this new alien moon. But there was no comfort. No mission briefing.

Just a borrowed body and a voice in your ear saying, “Don’t screw this up.”

Your avatar's body was smaller than most. Younger, even in Na’vi form. Shorter than Neytiri, slimmer than the others your age in training. Your limbs moved like a fawn’s first steps. The tail? A nightmare. You tripped over it for days.

But you tried.

Grace’s goal was simple. “We’ll start with school integration. A soft presence. A child among children.”

In theory, it made sense. In practice, it meant you spent hours mimicking the language of curious Na’vi children while older hunters stared at you with suspicion. A dreamwalker with baby skin, fumbling limbs and soft-spoken apologies.

Neytiri found you first, deep in the jungle, chasing an atokirina like it held the answers to your place in the world.

It floated just out of reach, and you stumbled after it, wide-eyed.

She emerged from the shadows like a spirit.

“What you doing here, dreamwalker?”

You froze, hands halfway to the glowing seed. “II was following it.”

Her golden eyes scanned you, curious but wary.

“This forest is not your toy.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But… Pandora is beautiful.”

Something shifted in her face thensomething fragile and flickering. A thread pulled taut, waiting to break.

And then she laughedjust once.

“You are strange.”

From that day on, Neytiri stayed close. She taught you how to walk with your toes first, how to listen with your whole body. You were a student of the forest, but also a student of her.

And through Neytiri, you met Sylwanin and Tsu'tey .

Bright as flame, Sylwanin was wild and full of laughter. She pulled you into the clan like a whirlwindteaching you to ride pa’li, to climb the Hometree like it was your birthright.

then there was Tsu'tey.

You had admired him from afar-strong, serious, noble.

He was promised to Sylwanin, and you respected that. Still, he'd sometimes join you in hunts or offer dry commentary when you fumbled in training. A small, hesitant friendship formed.

In just under a year, you were fluent in the language, adept with a bow, and well on your way to being accepted by the People.

But peace is

Months passed. You grew taller. More confident. Your accent softened. You began to blendnot vanish, but belong.

The children called you sister.

Neytiri painted your face for the first time in red clay and said, “You are learning.”

You began dreaming in Na’vi.

You began to forget the shape of your real hands.

And thenwithout warning everything burned.

peace is fragile. And fate is cruel.

Sylwanin and a few others, in an act of desperation, attacked an RDA bulldozer.

The humans retaliated mercilessly-guns, fire, screaming. You barely escaped with the younger children, dragging Sylwanin's broken body behind you, sobbing and praying for a miracle that would never come.

You dragged her behind you, sobbing. The children wailed.

By the time you returned to Hometree, your arms were slick with blood.

Mo’at’s cries shattered the air like glass. Neytiri collapsed, her scream muffled in Tsu'tey’s shoulder. Eytukan roared.

And you… you dropped to your knees.

“Kill me,” you begged. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.” A life for a life.

Tsu'tey looked at you then, eyes dark with grief.

“You walk with the sky people. You wear their face.”

But Neytiri stepped in front of you. So did the children.

“She saved us,” said one. “She ran.”

Mo’at’s voice cut through the silence.

“You are child,” she said at last. “You did not carry the gun.but You carry the guilt.”

You stayed.

Not as a guest.

Not yet as family.

But as a soul seeking redemption.

The days after Sylwanin’s death passed in silence and smoke.

You were allowed to stay, but no one truly looked at you.

Except the children. They brought you berries. They sat close to you at the fire, even when the adults scowled.

It was Neytiri who kept you grounded. She didn’t speak much. But she would find you each morning, nod once, and then disappear into the treesexpecting you to follow. And you always did.

The forest was the only place that didn’t hate you.

One day, as you climbed a tall root bridge near the river, you slipped. The branch cracked under your foot, and you would’ve fallenten, maybe fifteen feetif someone hadn’t caught your wrist.

Tsu'tey.

He said nothing as he steadied you.

You tried to meet his eyes, but he was already walking away.

“I don’t belong here,” you muttered under your breath.

He stopped.

“You think you are the only one who has lost?” His voice was cold. “You think you are the only one who bleeds inside?”

You said nothing. Because you didn’t know how to carry his painor your own.

He walked away again. Slower, this time.

But he didn’t leave you behind.

Something changed after that.

He began to speak to you more oftenbrief words, clipped sentences, nothing flowery. But it was more than silence. And that, to you, was enough.

Sometimes, on hunts, he would motion for you to lead. Sometimes, during training, he would press your hand into the correct grip, hold it too long, then release it as if burned.

And when you laughedreally laughedduring a failed attempt to catch a leaping yerik, he didn’t scold you.

He smiled.

Just once.

But it was the first time he had smiled since Sylwanin.

You tried not to hope.

He had loved someone else. Someone irreplaceable.

You had come from the stars. You were a stranger wearing a second skin. A symbol of everything that had burned her down.

Still, some nights, he would sit beside you near the fire. And you would talk of nothingbirds, bugs, bad tracking daysand it would feel like breathing again.

The day you made your bow, Neytiri beamed. Even Tsu'tey-still hollowed by loss-gave a quiet nod.

"You have done well," he said.

"I don't feel like I have," you whispered.

He looked at you for a long moment.

"It keeps me up at night too. But you are not to blame.

Your connection deepened slowly. You laughed again. You healed. And he began to smile, only for you.One evening, as Neytiri painted you before your ceremony to be fully welcomed among the People, Tsu'tey's fingers lingered on your lips. He stared too long.

You stared back. No words passed, but something changed.

"You are Omaticaya now," he said.

You nearly cried.

You didn't return to your human body that night. Not the next, either. With Tsu'tey and Mo'at's help-and Eywa's blessing-you transferred permanently.

The RDA believed your avatar had died. Grace mourned you quietly, bitterly.

Tommy nor Jake was never told the truth.

You and Tsu'tey mated beneath the Tree of Souls. Months later, you bore a son. You named him Akari.

He had his father’s solemn eyes. Your quietness. He barely cried. His tiny fingers curled tightly around your thumb as if he had known you before this life.

You held him against your chest and whispered promises into his hair.

“I’ll never let you burn,” you said.

And for a time, there was peace.

Until a sky-born child stumbled into the forest.

Until Jake Sullyyour brotherfell from the stars.

You saw him from afar on a hunt with Neytiri. He was awkward, confused. A baby in a borrowed body. Your heart seized. You hadn't seen an Avatar in two years.

When the viperwolves descended on him, you and Neytiri saved him swiftly. He stared up at you, awed. "Don't thank," Neytiri snapped. "This is not a gift. It is sad."

And then he turned to you. Recognition hit like lightning.

"Y/N? No.. that can't be. You're dead."

"Jake?" you whispered. "They said you were coming. But... how are you here?"

His voice cracked.

"Grace said you-your mask-she saw you die!"

You couldn't speak. Couldn't explain. Neytiri pulled you away, muttering about omens. But as the atokirina floated down toward Jake and he swatted at it,you shouted.

"Kehe! Don't!"

"Atokirina!" Neytiri hissed, grabbing his arm. "it is a sign!"

You and Neytiri locked eyes.

"Lolu aungia," she whispered. This is a sign.

You didn’t speak to Jake again that day.

Later, under the roots of Hometree, you sat with Tsu'tey. Akari slept between you, curled like a leaf.

“He’s not what I expected,” Tsu'tey said quietly. “Your brother. He moves like a baby.”

“He is a baby in this world,” you said. “Like I was.”

Tsu'tey nodded, then looked away.

“I do not like him.”

You sighed, brushing your son’s forehead.

“Jake was a marine,” you told Tsu'tey. “He came here armed. I don’t know why. And I’m afraid of what it means.”

Tsu'tey’s hand moved to your bellyyour second child, not yet born, stirred beneath the surface.

“You are my mate,” he said. “My heart beats for this family. I will protect it.”

“I know.”

“I will protect you.”

And you believed him.

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

In time, Jake learned the truth.

Grace returned to the clan and wept when she saw you alive. Tsu'tey welcomed her with respect. Your son curled quietly in your arms as Grace asked question after question.

“His name?” she asked, smiling down at the boy.

You looked at Tsu'tey, who stood nearby, tall and silent, watchful.

“Akari te Rongloa Tsu'tey’itan,” you said proudly. “Our little warrior.”

She hugged you then, overwhelmed.

“You’re… really happy, aren’t you?”

“I’m finally where I belong.”

But still, that shadow lingered.

Jake.

Jake stayed.

That was the problem.

At first, it was simple. He needed training. He needed language. Mo’at, perhaps moved by the atokirina, permitted him to stay. And Neytirireluctantlyagreed to teach him.

But it was you he watched. Not Neytiri. Not Grace.

You.

“You left everything,” he said once, as you washed Akari in the shallow stream behind the village. “Your life. Your body. Your family.”

“I didn’t leave,” you said softly. “I found where I belong.”

“You don’t miss it? Earth?”

You looked at your sonhis pale eyes blinking up at you, his tiny mouth shaped like Tsu'tey’sand said nothing.

Because missing something didn’t mean you wanted it back.

Jake meant well. But his questions never stopped.

“Did they force you to stay?”

“No.”

“Did you really… mate with one of them?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re happy?”

You clenched your jaw.

“Jake. Stop.”

He paused, staring at the glow-worms that lit the bark around you.

“I just don’t get it.”

You shook your head.

“No. You don’t.

"I'm still scared," you admitted. "Scared you'll take me back. That the RDA will come again. That my children-*

Jake stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, forehead resting against yours like you used to do as kids.

"You don't have to explain."

"But I do," you said. "I abandoned everything. You. Grace. The mission. I should have stayed, should have fought-"

"You were a kid," Jake interrupted. "They sent you here with a fantasy and no plan. You didn't abandon anything. You survived. And somehow... you made this."

He looked at your kid."No one's taking you Not while I breathe "

As the weeks passed, the clan accepted him slowly. Neytiri softened. The warriors trained with him. Tsu'tey watched from a distance, always silent.

You saw the resentment in his shoulders.

The way his grip tightened on his knife when Jake laughed too loudly. Or stood too close to Neytiri.

Once, you caught him staring at your brother as if calculating every weak spot in his armor.

“He’s trying,” you said carefully one night as you sat in the trees, watching the stars flicker above the canopy.

“So was I,” Tsu'tey said. “Before your people burned my life to ash.”

You didn’t respond.

There was nothing to say that would make it better.

One morning, Tsu'tey returned from his solo hunt pale and shaking.

He’d seen a digger. A bulldozer, carving its way toward sacred trees. The same kind of machine that had sparked Sylwanin’s death.

“It was just sitting there,” he said, breathless. “Just… chewing through everything.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep.

You sat beneath the roots of Hometree, your second child turning restlessly inside you. The air tasted like smoke, though no fire yet touched the leaves.

Tsu'tey found you there.

“You feel it too?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“It is coming.”

You didn’t ask what he meant.

You already knew.

When the humans struck again, destroying the tree of voices, it was Tsu'tey who rallied the warriors first.

His voice rose like wind through bone.

You stood beside him, your bow in hand, your belly heavy with your second child.

Mo’at looked at you.

“You still believe in peace?” she asked.

“I believe in protecting what we love.”

“And your brother?”

You didn’t answer.

Jake returned from Hell’s Gate hours later, face dark, voice hollow.

“They’re coming,” he said. “In full force. If you don’t move, they’ll bring down the Hometree.”

The silence that followed was crushing.

Tsu'tey stepped forward, seething.

“You lied.”

“I didn’t know”

“You lied!” Tsu'tey shouted, stepping toward him. “You walked among us. Ate our food. Slept in our forest. And all the while, you fed them everything they needed to kill us!”

Jake bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

Tsu'tey raised his blade.

You stepped between them.

“Enough.”

Your voice cracked like thunder.

Tsu'tey lowered his blade.

But he didn’t forgive.

Not yet.

When the RDA unleashed their fire on Hometree, you watched it fall.

The sound was unbearablelike a scream torn from the world itself. Trees taller than skyscrapers crashed into the dirt. Flame swallowed bark, and leaves glowed red before vanishing.

You saw Eytukan fall in the chaos.

You saw children pulled from the rubble.

You saw Tsu'tey dive into the smoke. And then… silence.

You ran toward the wreckage, lungs burning.

“Tsu'tey!” you screamed, over and over.

And finally,finally he emerged. Covered in soot. Limping. Blood on his shoulder. But alive.

You collapsed into him, sobbing.

“I thoughtI thought I lost you”

He pulled you close.

“We do not fall,” he said. “We fight.”

The battle was not won that day.

But it began.

149 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 2 months ago

Text

✨Fucking Brats - 3/3✨

Summary: You and Ben have two teenage daughters, and lately, they’ve been nothing short of awful. With Ben away on missions, you've been taking the heat. But when he finally steps back through that door and sees how they’ve been treating you? Hell breaks loose. Because no one—not even his own brats—messes with his girl.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst

Word Count: 5041

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Ben just nodded toward the door. “Let’s go. Your mom’s probably busting her ass making dinner while you two emotional wrecks sulk up here”.

Liv scoffed. “Wow, apology rescinded”. Ava smirked, standing up. “Yeah, let’s go before she makes something weird”.

Ben let out a loud laugh as he led them out the door.

As the three of them made their way downstairs, Liv, Ava, and Ben were already running their mouths, loud and dramatic, feeding off each other like a pack of assholes with too much confidence.

“I’m just saying”, Ava started, hands gesturing wildly. “Mom’s pregnancy cravings? Insane”. Liv groaned, throwing her head back. “Oh my god, the pasta”. Ben snorted. “That goddamn pasta”.

You raised an eyebrow, standing by the stove as you stirred the pot, eyeing them suspiciously. “What about my pasta?”.

All three of them stopped at the kitchen entrance. For a brief second, there was silence, before Ben smirked. “Oh, we’re talking about that shit you made last week”. Liv gagged dramatically, dropping into a chair. “With the peanut butter. And the pickles. And the hot sauce”. Ava shuddered. “I’m traumatized”.

Ben scoffed, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, grinning as he shook his head. “I’ve seen war crimes less offensive than that fucking meal”.

You gasped, placing a hand over your chest, offended. “Excuse me?”.

Liv shot you a look. “Mom. Mom. Be honest with yourself”. Ava nodded aggressively. “You couldn’t even finish it!”.

You huffed, turning back to the stove, gripping the spoon tighter. “It sounded good at the time”.

Ben chuckled, coming up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his hands resting over your growing belly. “Baby, I love you”, he murmured against your ear, his breath warm, teasing. “But that shit was a fucking crime”.

You rolled your eyes, leaning into him anyway, the warmth of his body melting away any fake offense you were holding onto. “Well, good thing I didn’t make it tonight, then”.

Ben grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Ava mumbled as she plopped down into a chair, crossing her arms like she was genuinely suffering. “You two are so cheesy with each other now”, she grumbled. “Like, way worse than before”.

Liv nodded, stabbing her fork into the table for emphasis. “Seriously. Ever since Mom got pregnant, it’s like, constant touching, constant whispering, constant gross couple shit”.

Ben, still pressed against your back, grinned.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, he drawled, tightening his grip around your waist, swaying you both slightly. “Does affection make you uncomfortable, princess?”.

Liv gagged dramatically, shoving her chair back. “Ugh”. Ava made a face, waving her hands in front of her like she was warding off a curse. “Make it stop”.

You just laughed, reaching back to thread your fingers through Ben’s hair, tilting your head slightly toward him. “You hear that?”, you teased, smirking. “We’re disgusting”.

Ben grinned, his stubble scratching against your jaw as he purposely kissed along your neck. “Yeah?”, he muttered, low and smug. “Guess we better really lean into it, then”.

Liv and Ava groaned loudly, practically hiding their faces in their hands as Ben purposely kissed along your neck, clearly enjoying how much he was torturing them. “I swear”, Liv muttered, voice muffled by her arms. “I will move out”. Ava nodded dramatically. “I’ll help you pack”.

But then, the doorbell rang. All four of you paused. Your brows furrowed slightly. “Were we expecting someone?”.

Ben immediately stiffened, his instincts sharp as ever as he pulled away from you, his expression shifting from playful to wary in an instant. “Nobody told me shit”, he muttered, his jaw tightening.

Liv, on the other hand, looked suddenly uncomfortable. Suspiciously uncomfortable. Ava noticed immediately, her head snapping toward her sister. “Oh, no fucking way—”. Before she could even finish, Liv bolted for the door.

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he watched her practically sprint across the room. “…What the fuck is that about?”.

Ava, already grinning, propped her elbow on the table. “Ohhh, this is gonna be good”.

Ben shot her a look before pushing off the counter, his instincts fully activated now. Liv never rushed to answer the door. Ben always got to the door first. So the fact that she was moving so damn fast? Yeah. Something was off. And he didn’t fucking like it.

By the time he made it to the door, Liv had already opened it. And standing on the porch, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jacket, stood some goddamn kid.

Tall. Athletic. Smug as hell.

Ben stepped up right behind Liv, his broad frame towering over her, his presence instantly taking over the entire space. His green eyes flicked over the kid standing on the porch, his expression dark, unimpressed, borderline murderous. “Who the fuck is this?”, he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Liv froze. Jason, hadn’t even spoken yet. Because the second his eyes landed on Ben, they went wide as hell. The confidence, the casual ease he had just seconds ago? Gone. Completely fucking wiped out. Because Jason knew exactly who was standing in front of him. And, more importantly, he realized exactly whose daughter he had been chasing for the past year.

“Holy shit”, Jason blurted out, taking a step back like he had just been physically hit by the realization. “You’re—you’re Soldier Boy”.

Ben narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “No shit”.

Liv inhaled sharply, suddenly stepping in front of him, her back practically pressed against his chest as she waved her hands in front of Jason’s stunned face. “Okay, okay, no need to freak out—”.

Jason’s eyes snapped to her, still wide as hell. “You’re his kid?”.

Liv groaned loudly, rubbing her temples. “This is exactly why we never told anyone”.

Ben’s frown deepened. His gaze flickered between the two of them, the gears turning in his head, piecing together exactly what was happening right now. “Wait a fucking second”, he muttered, stepping around Liv slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto Jason like a goddamn target.

Jason immediately stiffened, swallowing hard.

Ben crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly. “You knew my daughter before this moment?”.

Jason hesitated. Ben’s brow twitched. Liv groaned again, running a hand down her face. “Dad—”.

Ben ignored her, his focus entirely on Jason. “Lemme guess”, he muttered, his voice like gravel. “You been sniffin’ around her?”.

Jason visibly paled.

Ava, who had been silently watching from the kitchen, immediately burst into laughter, shaking her head. “Oh my god, this is so much better than I thought it’d be”.

Jason’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Ben took a slow step forward. Jason immediately took one back.

Liv gritted her teeth, throwing her arms up. “Dad, can you not scare off the first guy who actually has the balls to like me?”.

Ben stopped immediately. His head snapped toward her. His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say?”.

Liv’s own eyes widened slightly, like she had just now realized what she admitted out loud.

Jason inhaled deeply, running a hand down his face. “Shit—”.

Ben turned back to him so fast that Jason actually flinched.

“Oh, hell no”, Ben muttered, taking another step forward, his voice sharp as hell. “You got a fucking crush on my daughter?”.

Jason hesitated. And that? That was a big fucking mistake. Because now Ben knew. The hesitation. The look of panic. Yeah. This little shit had been chasing after Liv.

Ben clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply, rubbing a hand down his face. “You gotta be fucking kidding me”, he muttered under his breath.

Liv let out a loud, frustrated groan, shoving at Ben’s shoulder, which did absolutely nothing, of course. “Dad”, she snapped, her face red with pure humiliation. “Can you not make this weird?”.

Ben laughed humorlessly, looking at her like she had just asked him to burn his own house down. “Not make it weird?”. He turned back to Jason, who still looked one second away from passing out. “How old are you?”, Ben snapped.

Jason blinked rapidly, suddenly unsure how to answer that question without dying. “Uh—”.

Ben’s expression darkened. “Too fucking slow”.

Liv immediately shoved him back again. “Dad!”.

Jason let out a slow, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m seventeen”, he muttered.

Ben snorted. “Not even a legal adult. Great”.

Jason bristled, squaring his shoulders slightly, as if trying to regain an ounce of confidence. “I’m the top of my class at Godolkin”, he muttered. “I have full control of my powers. I—”.

Ben immediately cut him off. “Oh, you got powers, huh?”, he muttered, tilting his head, his gaze suddenly much sharper. “Go on then. Tell me what you do, kid”.

Jason hesitated again.

Ben grinned. “See?”, he muttered, glancing at Liv. “If he won’t even fucking say it, it means he doesn’t want me to know”, He turned back to Jason, his voice dropping into something dangerous. “So what the fuck do you do?”.

Liv groaned aggressively, shoving at Ben again. “Can you not interrogate him like we’re in a goddamn war zone?”.

Ben ignored her, his eyes locked onto Jason, who still hadn’t answered.

Jason exhaled sharply. “I—control electricity”, he muttered quickly. “Like—bio-electric energy”.

Ben just stared at him. Then he grinned darkly, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s fucking adorable”.

Jason tensed.

Ben chuckled, glancing at Liv. “This the best you could do, kid?”.

Liv glared. “Dad!”.

Ben sighed dramatically, rubbing his jaw. “Jesus, you couldn’t have found a kid with lasers or some shit?”.

Liv threw her hands up. “WHY WOULD I NEED A GUY WITH LASERS?”.

Ben just grinned. “For protection, obviously".

Liv groaned so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors heard it. Ava, meanwhile, was dying in the background, choking on her own laughter. Jason just looked like he wanted to leave and never come back.

You sighed heavily, stepping forward and placing a hand on Ben’s arm, giving him a pointed look. "Stop being an ass, Ben". Ben turned to you, his smug grin still firmly in place, like he was fully prepared to keep making this kid’s life a living nightmare.

You, however, were done with it. Turning your gaze toward Jason, who still looked like he was reconsidering every decision that led him here, you gave him a small, polite smile. "You hungry, Jason? We were just sitting down for dinner".

Ben’s head snapped toward you so fast you swore you heard his neck crack. Liv visibly paled, her eyes wide as hell. “Mom, what the fuck—”.

Jason blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Uh…”.

Ava, still fully entertained by everything happening, immediately perked up. “Oh, this is gonna be good”.

Ben scowled hard, his arms crossing over his chest, his glare cutting through you. “Oh, fuck that”.

You shot him a look. “Ben”.

Ben scoffed. “No. No fucking way”.

Liv, already red-faced and fully spiraling, let out an embarrassed groan, throwing her arms up. “Mom, please don’t”.

You ignored her, tilting your head at Jason. “Well?”.

Jason hesitated, glancing at Ben, then at Liv, then back at you, his brain clearly scrambling to decide whether or not dinner was worth dying over.

Liv, face still completely red, turned to him, her voice low, pleading. "Do not say yes".

Jason, clearly aware that either decision would result in some level of pain, hesitated for another second. "Uh… sure?".

Liv slammed her eyes shut. “Oh my God”.

Ben let out a sharp, unbelievably dramatic laugh, shaking his head as he turned away. Ava, at this point, was basically crying, gripping the back of a chair, her laughter completely uncontrollable.

You just nodded, smiling pleasantly. “Great! Come on in”.

Jason stepped inside hesitantly, his shoulders tight as hell, clearly expecting to get tackled at any second.

Ben, who was now standing off to the side, glared at you hard as hell. You turned to him, patting his chest, giving him a sweet smile. “Be nice”.

Ben let out a low, borderline murderous chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ll be real nice”, he muttered under his breath. “Real fucking nice”.

Liv groaned loudly, dragging a hand down her face as Jason nervously took a seat at the table.

Dinner was a disaster from the moment it started.

Jason sat awkwardly stiff at the table, his hands folded in his lap like he was mentally preparing for combat. Liv looked like she wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. Ava was fully thriving, watching the whole thing like it was the best show she’d ever seen.

And Ben was having the time of his goddamn life, watching Jason squirm, his smirk deadly, his sharp green eyes never leaving the poor kid.

You sat across from them, already exhausted, regretting every choice that led up to this.

Ben leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, casually studying Jason like he was interrogating an enemy combatant. “So, Jason”, he drawled, his voice low, dripping with pure menace. “You been chasing after my daughter for how long now?”.

Jason choked on his water immediately.

Liv snapped her head up, her face bright red. “Dad!”.

Ben just grinned. “What? It’s a simple question”.

Jason, still recovering, cleared his throat aggressively. “Uh—I, um—”.

Ava, now fully invested, leaned her chin on her hand, smirking. “Yeah, Jason, how long?”. Liv shot her a murderous glare. “You are literally the worst”.

Jason exhaled deeply, looking like he wanted to die. “We’ve, uh… known each other for about a year”.

Ben’s smirk widened. “And in that year, how many times have you thought about dating my daughter?”.

Jason froze. Liv’s entire body tensed. “Dad, I swear—”.

Ben leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Go on, kid. Tell me”.

Jason swallowed hard, his jaw tightening slightly like he was trying to find the right answer that wouldn’t get him killed. “…I think she’s great”, he said carefully. “She’s strong. Smart. And, uh… yeah. I like her”. Liv’s face burned, and she immediately grabbed her napkin, covering it like it would save her from this moment.

Ben just stared at Jason for a long moment, his eyes sharp as hell, his expression unreadable. But then, he nodded slowly. “Alright”, he muttered.

Jason blinked. “…Alright?”.

Ben picked up his fork, stabbing a piece of food. “Yeah. Alright”.

Liv, still hiding her face, peeked up slightly. “Wait, what?”.

Ben shrugged, chewing. “I mean, he coulda said some dumbass shit like, ‘She’s hot’, or ‘She’s having a nice body" or some other garbage”. He swallowed, gesturing at Jason with his fork. “But this one? He at least knows she’s got a brain”.

Liv just stared at him, still suspicious. “So… you don’t hate him?”.

Ben exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “I still don’t like him”.

Jason visibly tensed. “That’s… fair”.

Ben smirked, pointing at him. “But at least you know your place”.

Jason just nodded slowly, like that was the best response he was going to get. Ava groaned dramatically, shaking her head. “Lame”. Liv exhaled deeply, rubbing her temples. “I cannot believe we just survived that”.

Ben scoffed. “Dinner ain’t over yet”.

Jason went stiff again. Liv groaned loudly, dropping her head onto the table. You sighed, reaching for your drink, already regretting inviting him over in the first place.

After Dinner, you exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against the counter to steady yourself as a sharp, heavy ache crawled up your spine. It was sudden, radiating from your lower back up through your shoulders, the kind of pain that made you pause, made you clench your jaw as you tried to breathe through it. It wasn’t unfamiliar. You had felt this before.

When you were pregnant with the twins, every symptom had been ten times worse than what a normal human pregnancy was supposed to be. You had been exhausted, your body constantly sore, the weight of carrying half-supec genes making everything more intense. And this? This was the same.

“Mom?”.

You turned your head slightly, catching Ava standing by the sink, her brows furrowed, her sharp eyes scanning you like she knew something was off. You forced a small smile, waving a hand. “I’m fine, baby, just—”. Another sharp wave of pain shot up your back. Your hand immediately gripped the edge of the counter.

Ava’s eyes narrowed. “Mom”, she said, her voice firm this time. “You’re not fine”.

You exhaled deeply, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before slowly straightening up, rolling your shoulders. “It’s just my back”, you muttered, shaking your head. “It was the same with you two. Everything’s just… heavier”.

Ava’s jaw tensed, like she was processing that. Like she didn’t fucking like it. And before you could reassure her, Ben and Liv’s voices cut through the kitchen, still loudly bickering over Jason.

“Oh, come the fuck on”, Liv groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Jason does not look like a GQ model”.

Ben scoffed. “Kid, if that boy wasn’t a supe, I guarantee he’d be modeling overpriced cologne in some goddamn magazine”. Liv snorted. “Well, at least he’d smell good”.

“Okay, no. Fuck that”, Ben grumbled and threw a towel after her. Liv cackled, dodging him immediately as he reached for her, their play-fighting escalating into complete chaos in the background.

But Ava? Ava wasn’t paying attention to any of that. Her focus was still entirely on you. Her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a tight line before she took a slow step forward. “Does it hurt a lot?”. she asked, her voice quieter now.

You blinked, caught slightly off guard by the shift in her tone. “Oh—no, it’s just… a dull ache”.

Ava didn’t look convinced. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she did something that actually surprised you. She stepped closer and placed a careful hand against your lower back. Immediately, a soft, almost electric warmth spread over your spine, a soothing sensation rolling through your body, the pain dulling under her touch. Your breath caught slightly. “Ava—”.

“Shh”, she muttered, her brows furrowing slightly in focus. “Just… hold still for a second”. The warmth continued, humming just beneath your skin, easing the tension from your muscles like a steady, controlled pulse of energy. It was gentle. It was intentional. And it was the first time you had ever felt Ava use her powers like this. Your throat bobbed, your eyes slightly wide as you glanced down at her. “You… can do this?”.

Ava exhaled slowly. “I—yeah. I mean… kinda”, she admitted, her voice softer now. “I don’t really know how it works. I just… thought about it”.

You blinked, watching her carefully. For all her sarcasm, her attitude, her occasional recklessness, Ava had never been the type to use her abilities this way. Never the type to heal. And yet, the pain in your back was already gone. You inhaled slowly, resting a hand over hers, squeezing gently. “Ava”, you murmured, your voice full of something warm, something proud.

She just huffed, shaking her head like she was shrugging it off. “Don’t make it weird”. You smiled, your eyes still soft. “I’m not".

Ava cleared her throat, stepping back, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, well… you’re carrying my sibling, so, like… can’t have you breaking in half or whatever”.

Your chest tightened slightly. Because that? That was her way of saying she cared. Before you could respond, before you could even process what just happened, Ben’s loud, dramatic voice filled the kitchen again. “Alright, I’m done talking about that fucking kid, who, by the way, is never stepping foot in this house again! What the hell are you two whispering about?”.

You and Ava both turned immediately, blinking at him like two kids caught doing something secretive. Liv, catching the shift in energy, frowned slightly. “Wait. What just happened?”.

You opened your mouth, but Ava, forever her father’s daughter, just rolled her eyes and muttered— “Nothing. Mom was just being dramatic”.

Ben grinned. “Hah! See? She gets it from you”.

You sighed deeply, shaking your head. But as you glanced at Ava, you caught the way she was still watching you, still making sure you were really okay. And in that moment, you knew she was her father’s daughter. But she was yours, too.

You shook your head, still feeling the lingering warmth from Ava’s touch, still processing the fact that she had just used her abilities to help you, not to fight, not to lash out, but to heal. It was a small moment, but it meant everything. But of course, Ava would never let you make it sentimental. So instead, you just exhaled, offering her a small smile before turning back to the sink.

Ben, oblivious as ever, just grinned at Ava’s comment. “See? You are the dramatic one”.

You shot him a look. “Oh, please. You just spent the last hour interrogating a teenage boy like it was a CIA op”.

Ben’s smirk widened. “Yeah, and?”.

Liv groaned, rubbing her temples. “Can we not bring Jason up again? I’m begging”. Ava snorted. “Hey, at least he survived”. Ben scoffed. “Barely”. Liv shot him a glare. “You barely let him survive”. Ben just shrugged, looking way too satisfied with himself.

You sighed, shaking your head as you continued cleaning up. “Well, if he actually sticks around after that disaster of a dinner, then maybe he’s not so bad”.

Ben immediately scowled. “Or maybe he’s too stupid to be afraid”.

Ava laughed. “Or maybe he really likes Liv”. Liv groaned dramatically, standing up. “I’m leaving this conversation”.

Ben smirked. “Good. Make sure you lock your goddamn window, or else Romeo might come crawling in”.

Liv froze. “It was just one-".

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Wait”. His head snapped toward Liv. “You haven’t snuck out to see him, have you?”. Liv’s silence was the only answer he needed.

Ben’s entire expression dropped. He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand down his face before muttering, “Fuck Liv".

You closed your eyes, pressing your fingers against your temple. “Liv”.

Liv threw her hands up, stepping back. “Okay, listen—”.

Ben pointed at her immediately. “Nope. Don’t even fucking try”. Ben, meanwhile, was one second away from blowing a goddamn blood vessel. “You’re fifteen, Liv”, he muttered, shaking his head. “Fucking fifteen, and you’re already sneaking out to meet some punk-ass kid?”.

Liv groaned. “It’s not like that!”.

Ben scowled. “Oh, so you just sneak out for fun?”.

Liv clenched her jaw, arms crossing over her chest.

Ben exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You really wanna piss me off, don’t you?”.

Liv stared at him, her expression hard, her defiance bubbling back up. “I just wanted something that’s mine”, she muttered, her voice quieter now, but still firm.

Ben paused.

Liv inhaled deeply, looking down. “Something that’s… normal”.

Ben’s jaw tightened, his throat bobbing slightly. You saw it, the way his whole body shifted, the way his rage didn’t disappear, but simmered into something else. Something understanding. Something frustrated, but not at her. Ben exhaled, shaking his head. “Jesus, kid”, he muttered. “You’re making it so hard for me to stay mad at you”.

Liv rolled her eyes, kicking at the floor. “I mean, you could just let it go”.

Ben snorted. “Yeah, not happening”.

Liv sighed, shaking her head, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Ava, still watching, leaned toward you. “Okay, but can we talk about the fact that Liv just admitted she has a boyfriend?”. Liv’s head snapped toward her. “Shut up, Ava!”.

Ben’s eyes darkened again. “Boyfriend?”.

You couldn’t help but smile. Because despite the chaos, despite Ben nearly combusting at the thought of Liv sneaking around with a boy, despite Liv looking ready to throw herself out a window, this was normal. And that? That was all you ever wanted for them.

You knew what it meant to to deal with all that supe-bullshit, what it meant to have a life that was anything but normal. And while your girls would never be average, would never have a simple life, the fact that they were getting to date, to have crushes, to sneak out and make dumb choices like teenagers, it made your heart feel full.

Ben, meanwhile, was still stuck on the word boyfriend. His eyes flickered back to Liv, sharp and disapproving. “You’re fifteen”.

Liv groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face. “OH MY GOD”. Ava was laughing at this point, her smirk pure evil. “She loves him, Dad”.

Ben snapped his gaze to Liv so fast you thought his neck might break. “You… LOVE him?”.

Liv froze. Her lips parted slightly, like she hadn’t actually processed what she had admitted yet. She clenched her jaw, glaring at Ava. “You suck so bad”. Ava just grinned. “I know”.

Ben let out a sharp exhale, rubbing his hand down his face aggressively before looking back at you, as if pleading for support. “You’re really okay with this?”.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you placed a hand on your hip. "Ben", you said, amusement lacing your voice. "I was eighteen when you knocked me up".

The room went dead silent. Ava’s jaw dropped. Liv made a sound like she was actively dying.

Ben, meanwhile, just froze, before he let out a long, suffering groan, rubbing both hands aggressively down his face. "Oh, for fuck’s sake", he muttered.

Ava, already grinning, turned to Liv. "Dude". Liv snapped her gaze to you, her face horrified. "Mom. MOM. WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?".

You shrugged, still smiling. "Just putting things in perspective".

Liv gagged dramatically, throwing her hands up. "OH MY GOD, THIS IS TRAUMATIZING". Ava, who was very much enjoying this, grinned wider. "Wait, wait, so if Mom was eighteen, then how old were you, Dad?".

Ben immediately glared at her. "Drop it".

Ava ignored him completely. "What was it, like… thirty-something? Forty?".

Ben pointed a sharp finger at her. "I will throw you through a fucking wall, kid".

Liv stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. "I AM LEAVING THIS FAMILY".

Ben rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Oh, calm the fuck down, drama queen".

Liv gasped, pointing at you. "YOU WERE A TEENAGER, MOM. A TEENAGER".

Ben groaned loudly. "Can we not make me sound like a fucking criminal?".

Ava laughed so hard she almost fell out of her chair. You just smirked, watching Ben suffer, leaning against the counter like you were thoroughly entertained. "You’re the one freaking out about your fifteen-year-old having a boyfriend", you reminded him, tilting your head. "And here you were, getting me pregnant when I was barely an adult".

Ben scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Oh, so now I’m the fucking bad guy?".

Liv nodded aggressively. "YES. YOU. ARE. GROSS".

Ben just rolled his eyes again. "Jesus, you two are so fucking dramatic".

Liv stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath. "Fucking disgusting. Nasty. I’m gonna need therapy. Hope you’re ready to pay for it, Dad".

Ben sighed deeply, shaking his head as she disappeared upstairs, before he turned back to you, his expression deadpan. "You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?".

You grinned, stepping up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "More than anything".

Ben huffed, resting his forehead against yours, his hands sliding over your stomach. "You’re lucky I love you". You smirked. "Oh, I know".

From the stairs, Ava called out, "You’re still a cradle robber, though!".

Ben groaned again, burying his face against your neck. "I fucking hate this family". You just laughed, holding onto him.

Ben exhaled sharply, still gripping onto you, his jaw tight.

You leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, smirking. "Now you got a full taste of what I have to deal with all the time".

Ben let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, you fucking deserve it".

Then, before you could even react, his arms were suddenly under you, and with zero warning, he scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you against his chest.

You yelped, gripping his shoulders. "Ben!".

His smirk was sharp, dangerous, so goddamn smug as he carried you straight toward the stairs. "Pregnant or not, baby, you're gonna pay for that".

Ava’s voice called out from the living room. "OH MY GOD, CAN YOU TWO NOT?".

Liv groaned loudly from her room. "THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THIS HOUSE".

Ben just grinned, carrying you up the stairs with zero shame, his grip firm, possessive.

You laughed breathlessly, shaking your head. "You're ridiculous".

Ben pressed his lips against your ear, his voice low, teasing. "And you're fucking mine".

Your stomach fluttered, your heart pounding as he kicked open the bedroom door. He tossed you onto the bed, his grin wicked, his green eyes burning as he climbed over you, bracing himself on his forearms. You looked up at him, breathless, smirking. "You mad, old man?".

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, baby". Then he dipped his head, brushing his lips slowly over yours, his voice rough, teasing. "I'm fucking thrilled".

Ava groaned loudly from her room. "SERIOUSLY, I HOPE THIS BABY KEEPS YOU BOTH UP EVERY NIGHT".

Liv’s voice followed. "IT’S WHAT YOU DESERVE".

Ben just laughed against your lips, shaking his head. "God, I fucking love our family".

And you? You just smiled. Because despite the chaos, despite the madness, despite everything, so did you.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

#jensen ackles #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy fic #the boys fanart #ben the boys #ben x you #ben #ben x reader

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ryomenslvr · 10 days ago

Text

secondhand

stoner!suguru geto x fem!reader

synopsis: after a long day, you seek comfort in suguru geto’s quiet apartment. where smoke curls in the air, tension hums low, and closeness lingers just a little too long.

content warnings: substance use and implied mental strain

a/n: I am obsessed with stoner!geto dude

The sky outside your window was the color of dull steel, the kind that promised rain but didn’t bother following through. You sat on your bed, still in your work clothes, staring at your phone like it might offer relief. It didn’t.

Your body ached. Not from battle, nothing as cinematic. Just the wear of expectation. Another day of pretending your fuse wasn’t burning out. Another meeting where someone called you “capable” in that way that meant they expected you to carry more than anyone else.

Your thumb hovered over Geto’s name in your contacts. You hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, not since the last late-night mission briefing where he’d smirked at you from across the table like he knew how tired you were. He always did. It was annoying. And comforting.

You tapped his name. The message thread lit up, the last texts casual but soft:

Suguru:

You’re too tense. Try doing literally anything that’s not work for once.

You:

lmao define anything

Suguru:

Something that makes you stop thinking. I’ve got good weed and jazz. Just saying.

That had been four days ago. You hadn’t answered. You didn’t smoke, he knew that.

You started typing.

You:

Hey. You home?

You stared at it for a second before pressing send. Too short? Too blunt? Maybe you should’ve asked how he was doing first.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Suguru:

Always. What’s up?

Your lips curved, just slightly. He was always quick like that. Present, but never invasive.

You thought about lying. Saying you just wanted to ask something. But your fingers didn’t obey.

You:

are you around tonight

i’ve had a shitty day

Three dots appeared and vanished. Reappeared. Then stopped again. For a long moment, nothing.

Then,

Suguru:

Come over.

No pressure. Just quiet and company. Promise.

You bit your lip. The simplicity of his reply made something loosen in your chest.

Still, you hesitated. You tried to gather the courage to type more, but instead your thumbs hovered again.

You:

It’s okay if I just show up? Like… right now?

A longer pause this time.

Suguru:

It’s always okay. You don’t have to ask.

You blinked at the screen. That did something to you. Made you feel both warm and fragile all at once.

You:

Okay, I’ll be there soon

You didn’t fix your hair. Didn’t fix your makeup. You just grabbed your hoodie, tied your shoes with unsteady fingers, and slipped out into the night.

It didn’t take you long to get there, you push open the door to Suguru’s apartment. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and something sweet and herbal immediately washes over you, like stepping into a hidden alcove where time slows down. It’s always like this here. Calm. Warm. A little messy in that effortless, lived-in way.

There’s a woven throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, stacks of books on the coffee table, a few potted plants thriving in the corners despite the low light.

He’s on the floor cushions in front of the low table, legs folded beneath him. His long hair isn’t tied up in a loose bun like it typically is, a few strands falling against his cheek. His eyes are closed, face soft. The kind of stillness you only ever catch in people who’ve carved out their own version of peace.

When he opens his eyes, they land on you with gentle precision. “Rough day?” he asks, voice low, like he already knows the answer.

You nod, dropping your bag by the door with a dull thud. “One of those,” you mutter. Another cursed spirit no one else wanted to deal with. Another meeting with higher-ups who love the sound of their own voices more than they love actual solutions. You feel frayed at the edges. Splintered.

He didn’t press. He just tilted his head, gaze warm. “Come here.”

You stepped carefully onto the cushions beside him. Your thigh brushed his as you sat, and the contact sent a quiet jolt through your body. You didn’t move away.

The small wooden tray in front of him holds a handcrafted pipe, still smoking faintly. The scent is stronger here, earthy and sweet, something like sage mixed with citrus and something else you can’t name. It clings to the air in a lazy, dreamy haze.

You sit with your knees pulled up to your chest, arms around them. Your body is stiff. Coiled.

He watches you quietly, his eyes half-lidded with that knowing calm. No judgment. Just presence.

He lifts the pipe to his lips again and takes a slow drag. Holds it. Lets it linger in his lungs before he exhales through his nose, a soft cloud that drifts between you. You glance at it, a little mesmerized by the way it curls and dances.

“You know,” he said after another slow inhale, voice smooth around the exhale, “you look really good when you let yourself slow down.”

The words slid through the haze like warm silk. Your heart stuttered, like it missed a step. You turned to look at him, startled. “I—what?”

He was already watching you, head tilted slightly, mouth curved with that maddeningly calm amusement of his. A smile not just because you were flustered, but because he liked seeing you like this. Unarmored. Real.

“I’m serious,” he said, tone dipping just enough to feel dangerous in your chest. “You should let someone take care of you more often. You’re always too busy pretending you don’t need it.”

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed and glanced away, face burning under the weight of his gaze. “I’m not pretending,” you muttered.

The words came out softer than you intended. They didn’t sound very convincing, even to you.

He didn’t challenge it. He didn’t push. He just leaned a little closer, his voice lower now, quieter. Almost reverent.

“I can help,” he said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “If you let me.”

You hesitated, just a breath. The words felt too big, like they were pressing against something in you that hadn’t been touched in a long time. Maybe ever.

Then his hand moved, slow, unhurried, until it rested gently on your knee. The heat of it spread like ripples in water, like warmth you didn’t realize you were aching for until it was already there.

You met his eyes, and your breath caught in your throat.

He leaned in, deliberate but unrushed. Close enough that you could see the way the low light caught the edges of his lashes, the faint curve of a smile that wasn’t teasing anymore, just steady. Present. Real.

His lips parted, and then,

His breath, warm and laced with smoke, ghosted over your mouth. A soft exhale meant just for you.

You froze. Every nerve in your body sparked awake. Your lips parted on instinct, and you drew in the breath he gave you. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was gentle. Grounding. Like being touched without being touched.

The smoke curled down your throat, warm and slow and strangely tender. Intimate in a way that made your heart clench.

You coughed, a small sound, more from surprise than discomfort. Your cheeks flared hot.

Suguru chuckled under his breath, the sound a warm press against your skin. “Cute.”

You blinked at him, caught off-guard, wide-eyed. “Shut up,” you said, flustered and defensive and somehow too aware of how close he still was.

“I’m not teasing,” he said softly, still watching you like you were some delicate thing he wanted to memorize. “It suits you.”

You didn’t know how to answer that. Your pulse was thudding so loudly in your ears it drowned out every rational thought. And his eyes, god, his eyes. They lingered, slow and heavy, like his gaze alone could trace the outline of your mouth.

He lifted the pipe again, took another drag, even slower this time. Held it. Watched you the whole while.

Then leaned in again.

You didn’t move away.

You didn’t even breathe.

This time, when his breath met yours, you were already leaning toward it. Lips parted, breath shallow, heart racing. You met it halfway. Smoke curled over your tongue like something you weren’t supposed to taste but did anyway.

His breath was warm. His eyes, half-lidded, didn’t leave yours.

You felt something loosen inside you. Something unspoken. Something hungry.

Your lashes fluttered closed as the sensation washed over you, heady and slow and strangely tender. It felt like saying yes without words.

You didn’t realize how tense your body had been until it started to let go. Until his closeness, his quiet, steady presence, started to undo you in the most careful, intentional way.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips, breathy, dazed. “Suguru… this is so weird.”

He smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Welcome to my world.”

You huffed, something between a laugh and a sigh, but your body leaned subtly toward him again. Gravity, maybe. Or just him.

And then, just for a second, you wondered what it would feel like if he kissed you.

You didn’t say it. You didn’t even let yourself hold the thought for long.

But when you glanced up at him, his gaze had shifted, no longer amused, no longer teasing. Just still. Intent. Like he could feel it too.

Your breath caught.

Neither of you moved, not at first. Just looked. Watched.

And then, slowly, like testing the temperature of something fragile, he lifted his hand from your knee to your cheek. His palm was warm, fingers rough and careful as they brushed your jaw, as if asking first, quietly, wordlessly.

You didn’t pull away.

His thumb stroked once, featherlight beneath your eye. Then his gaze dropped to your mouth. His breath ghosted over it again, but this time he didn’t stop there.

He leaned in.

And kissed you.

Soft. Slow. Like he had all the time in the world.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild. It was intentional. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for anything, it just gives. Steady pressure. A warmth that bloomed through your chest like sunlight under your skin.

You inhaled sharply against his mouth. Your hands found the front of his shirt without thinking, curling there, grounding yourself.

When he pulled back just slightly, you stayed close, breath mingling. Foreheads nearly touching.

He searched your eyes, a small, private smile tugging at his lips. “You’re allowed to want this,” he murmured.

Your throat felt tight. Full of everything you couldn’t say yet.

But your hand reached for his again. And when you kissed him back, slower this time, more certain, it said everything you needed to.

dividers by @/uzmacchiato

header art by @/rise5x

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #jjk au #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #mei’s fics 🪷

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sprytesukii · 3 months ago

Note

PLSS PART TWO OF THAT SHIDOU FIC IM GOING CRAZY shidou gets his own tongue piercing matching w reader and they jst start doing the dirty😝

18+ | cw. dubcon (inherent in somnophilia), somnophilia, oral (f!receiving), spit (you spit in his mouf), other shidou freak shit | part one here

warm. wet. good.

you squirm in your sleep, but something holds onto your hips, pressing you against the sheets and leaving you unable to move.

a whimper escapes you, even in your sleep, only soothed by the warm, wet, good feelings in your lower half, a creeping pleasure rising up your spine, but it feels distant. like it’s coming from the room over.

after a moment, your subconscious registers the touch as safe so you let out a quiet sigh and bury your head further into your pillow, content to return to the hazy, muted bliss of your dreams.

or, you would if it wasn’t for something forcing you awake, taking the arousal from next door and yanking it into your body so you’re feeling the full brunt of the ministrations being performed on your sleeping body.

the something?

a gentle tap, tap, tap of cold, hard metal against your clit.

it’s unfamiliar, but so fucking good that you sit up, groggy, disoriented, and already close to your (third? fourth?) orgasm, if the pulsing of your cunt and the veritable puddle drooling from your folds is anything to go by.

“r-ryu—“ you gasp out, hand reaching down to toss the sheets aside, exposing your boyfriend’s messy hair, lust-blown eyes and, most importantly, the brand new piercing sitting snug in his tongue where he flicks it against your clit.

your eyes roll back at the feeling and a loud, shuddering moan escapes your lips. you reach for his head, threading your fingers in his multicolored locks to grind against his face, your sensitive bud catching against the unyielding surgical steel in a way that zings up your spine.

a pornographic groan vibrates against your sopping pussy and you will yourself to open your eyes, gaze dropping to the way shidou eats you, open-mouthed and sloppy, his long lashes fluttering shut on every other pass of his tongue like he’s the one getting head.

the sight proves to be too much for you and you cum hard, gushing into his mouth while your hips jerk against his face. shidou takes it all in stride, laving his tongue over your quivering hole, his piercing catching on your hole making the both of you moan.

shidou is a man on a mission, though. he detaches his mouth from you with a wet sound before you’re even done cumming, shoving his briefs down to his thighs, and pushing his thick, red, leaking cock inside your still spasming cunt.

the feeling of his fat length stretching your soaked walls has you scrambling, gasps wrenched from your chest while you try to gain purchase by sinking your fingers into the hair at his nape and the skin of his back.

shidou isn’t faring much better, panting with his mouth open and tongue lolled out, his spit and your slick dripping onto your chest. he can’t look away from you, his eyebrows furrowed like something is wrong, despite the way he continues to split you on his dick.

you try and ask what’s wrong, but between the heavy slaps of his hips against yours and the unending pleasure coursing through your veins, you can’t find the words.

fortunately, your boyfriend has always been easy to read and though it takes a moment to focus your lust-addled mind, you notice the way his eyes never stray far from your slightly parted lips, even when faced with your bouncing tits beneath his threadbare t-shirt or the sight of your cream ringing the base of his cock.

you know what he wants and you want to give it to him.

“ryu—“ you manage, his attention snapping to you, even though his earth shattering thrusts never let up.

a particularly hard roll of his hips nudges right up against your g-spot and you whine, opening your mouth and letting your tongue roll out, your own piercing on display, but this time, instead of the traditional stainless steel ball, a hot pink piercing stands in its place.

“fuck,” it’s the first thing you’ve heard from him since you woke up and it’s guttural. gravelly. beyond sexy.

he moans your name lowly, before dragging his tongue against yours, your piercings clinking in a way that has the both of you whining.

pleasure coils its way around the base of your spine as he laps into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, the wet smack of your lips reverberating in the room.

shidou pulls away after a moment, only to grab your hips and flip you over so that you’re sitting on his cock, his tip firmly pressed against your cervix.

you whimper loudly at the new feeling, at how much deeper he is inside you, your orgasm now only moments away.

your boyfriend isn’t much farther behind, his eyes rolling back as he grinds up into you. the action tips you forward so you brace yourself on his pecs, your face hovering over his.

“mmf, shit —“ your voice is thready, shot from the waves of pleasure building in your gut, threatening to take you under. you close your eyes instinctively, panting as you try to ride him, your legs quivering beneath the weight of your arousal.

a hoarse call of your name gets your attention, though, as does the way shidou reaches up and squeezes your cheeks, eyes wild. your head jerks back naturally but his grip tightens — you can’t go very far.

“c’mere,” he pleads, hunger overtaking his pink gaze. “just need a little more, baby, c’mon, give it to me, give me your spit, baby, i need it.”

the words spill out of him like water and even if you were thinking of denying him (you could never), the way he opens his mouth to you, the way he puts the slick covered, shiny steel on display, compels you. hooks you right in the gut and doesn’t let go.

you nod eagerly, and lean over a little more, collecting a decent amount of saliva before letting it drip from your tongue to his.

shidou moans like a porn star when your spit hits his tongue, his hips bucking up as warmth floods your cunt. he cums hard, filling you up, creamy white seeping out where the two of you are connected.

it’s so gross and hot that your peak hits you unexpectedly, pussy clenching down like a vice around him, extending both of your highs until you slump against his chest, exhausted.

sleepiness creeps back around you, your eyes falling shut, and you barely feel shidou’s fingers collecting your mixed fluids around the base of his softening cock until they’re pressed against your lips.

pliant, you open up and let him push them inside, petting the surface of your tongue and toying with the piercing, your cunt spasming a little at the feeling - something he notices if his sharp hiss is anything to go by.

you’re practically asleep when you notice the way he starts rocking up into you, soft dick plumping up the longer he does so, a petulant whine falling free from your lips.

shidou shushes you, running his free hand over your head like you’re his pet.

“shhh, pretty baby. let me have another, okay? i’ll make it so good for you, i promise. ”

#shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou smut #bllk shidou #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou ryusei x reader #blue lock shidou #bllk smut #cw spit #[ sprytewrites <3 ]#[ shidou <3 ]#[ asks <3 ]#RAHHHHH #need to spit in his mouth……… shidou…….. match my freak #freak4freak #us as fuck !

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nerdygirlramblings · 4 months ago

Text

Off to See the Wizard (9)

previous | next

cw: poorly executed accents

Hours later, you're staring at code, but nothing is penetrating the fog you've been in since you met Kyle. His words reverberate around your skull and you wonder how you missed the signs. How was it not clear in those long conversations that they were feeling something for you?

You struggle, too, with the knowledge that they want you to be part of whatever it is they have together. How do they even think you can compete with the years they have and the bonds they forged?

Though your instincts screen not to, you reach out to Laswell with a simple text: "Did you know?"

You don't expect a response right away and so turn back to the papers in front of you. Transport manifests and heat maps, threads from various dark web servers. You have to brief the boys tomorrow, and they leave two days after that. Kyle's words hit you again: a mission they might not all make it back from. Your heart skips a beat at the idea that your boys might not all make it home. You know it isn't fair to ignore the information Kyle dropped in your lap, but you're not ready to face them with a response yet.

You trust him when he says they want you. In conversations with you, John and Simon and Soap had made their desire abundantly clear. And you decided long ago that if you planned to be honest with anyone, you needed to be honest with yourself always. So you refuse to lie and say that you don't want them all. But this? Multiple partners? Committing to a relationship that would always come second to the job, that would always put one or more of your potential lovers in harm's way, was a hard pill to swallow. Never mind the fact that you're only in the UK temporarily. How would this work when you're back in the states?

The clock creeps closer to dinner, and you're panicking. You have no answer for the boys, despite how you feel about them all. The weight of their stares is going to make any meal uncomfortable until you can give them some sort of response. The worst part is, you can't even escape to your room because it's in their barracks. There's nowhere to go to avoid the uncomfortable conversation to come. Just as you're about to log off and catch a bus into town, stalling a little longer while you collect your thoughts, the classified line in your office rings.

The only people with the number are ones directly associated with the upcoming mission: Laswell, Nikolai, and your boys. Unless Laswell has given the number to other operators, you know the call isn't Nikolai. Your boys know how to find you on base, so there's no need for them to call you. Maybe Laswell decided you deserved more than a text in response.

Picking up the phone, you ask, "What do you wish in the Emerald City?" cringing a little at the way your call sign has manifested an entire mythos. However, you know that the trappings of your call sign serve as the first line of defense for anyone who may find your number. An incorrect response to your question is the first red flag that something has gone wrong with the mission. So while it technically hasn't started yet, you still anxiously await the response.

Sure enough Laswell's voice comes through the line, "We came here to see the Great Oz."

"Laswell," you reply, voice clipped to avoid pouring too much emotion into your words. You have to know what she knows. You can't let her know how much their desire rattles you.

"Got your text," she replies, voice equally neutral. If the situation were any different, you'd laugh. Two of you are acting like alley cats trying to avoid a fight. You know your frustration isn't really with her but with being caught off guard, so you allow a trickle of warmth back into your voice and say, "Got some, interesting intel from the boys today."

There's a long pause on Laswell's end, and you wonder what she's thinking. You're grateful for the phone call but wish you could see her face. She doesn't like to admit it, but you're one of the few people who can read her emotions, and you're dying to know how she's reacting. All she does is respond with, "Oh? About the op? Or something else?"

To give yourself something to do, you pull up what records you have access to of the 141: task force service records, commendations, op histories - at least what's not redacted - and a handful of photos. One photo in particular catches your eye, the four of them in a desert somewhere standing with a few other operators, including a beautiful Middle Eastern woman who has to be Farah Karim. Though she has her arm around Kyle's waist and he's smiling wide, it's not the same smile he gives you. Scanning the photo more closely, you notice how Simon's and Soap's hands are hanging side-by-side, nearly brushing one another. John has his bent, forearm resting on Kyle's other shoulder, his hand hanging over Kyle's chest. Now that you know what to look for, it's impossible to miss the closeness the four of them share.

On the other end of the phone, Laswell clears her throat. "Oz? That intel?"

From the way she says it, you're sure she knows you learned nothing about the op and everything about the 141, but you know better than to charge ahead without proof. For the first time, you hesitate. Does Laswell know the boys are together? If not, is it your place to tell her? You have to believe she knows because of how close she is with John, how long she's takes them with missions around the world.

Besides, if they've told you because they want you to be part of whatever it is they have together, even if Laswell doesn't know yet, she would have to. Either because you'd be looking for a permanent transfer or because communication between you and the 141 would dramatically increase.

If you accept what they're offering, that is.

So you charge ahead, hoping you're not sticking a foot in it, and ask, "Did you know the four of them are romantically involved?"

True to form, Laswell's answer isn't really an answer. "Yes. I know they have personal lives outside the ops and that those personal lives include significant others."

You hate having to be so straightforward, but you know you won't get clear answers any other way, so you ask, "Are you aware that the 141's romantic partners are the remaining members of the 141? That the four of them are some sort of polyamorous thing?"

"Instead of answering that," Laswell says, "I think I should be asking how you know that."

You tell her as much about the boys and what they've told you as you feel comfortable with before you drop the hammer with your final statement. "They've asked me to be part of that relationship. Did you have any idea that would happen if I came here?"

There is no mistaking the sharp inhale Laswell makes on her end at your declaration. She doesn't respond when you finish. The quiet on her end stretches like taffy until you're so worked up waiting for her to break her silence. And still you wait. This is as delicate a situation as diffusing a bomb. In fact, Kyle dropped a bomb in your lap at the cafe, and you've reached out to Laswell for help in making sure it doesn't blow up in anyone's face.

When she does finally speak, you're surprised by her response. "How does their desire make you feel?"

You and Laswell aren't really the type to talk in depth about your personal lives. You know her wife and have been to several work-related events where you shuck some of the formality of what you do, but you're not the type to talk about your romantic partners.

"I need to know, when you picked me, did you know?" you plead. To her credit, Laswell doesn't push for an answer to her question.

"No, I didn't know. But John was definitely pleased when I told him who I was sending. Makes sense given what you said."

You latch onto her comment. "How did you know John was happy about it?"

"Work long enough with someone, Oz, and you can tell a lot from what they say and their silences without ever needing to see their face. There was something about the way John responded when I told him you'd be the one taking forward point on this. I can't tell you exactly what, but I know it meant he was happy with the situation."

You bite your lip, wondering how things would have been different if you'd stayed back in DC and Laswell had sent someone else in your place. "Did you ever think to send anyone else?" you ask.

Again, there's a long, weighty pause on Laswell's end. "Do you want an honest answer? Or do you want me to tell you what I think you need to hear?"

It strikes you how naive you are not to realize the two could be separate things. Your fingers idly tap against the keyboard, writing nonsense code while you think. If you put yourself in Laswell's shoes, it's clear there are a number of other tech operatives she could have sent, people more senior than you. But is there anyone else who cares enough about the 141 to do everything in their power to ensure the boys are successful and come home whole? Other than Kate herself, you know the answer to that is no. It comes out barely louder than a whisper when you reply, "You could have sent any of us, but you know I'll do my damndest to protect them."

You can practically hear Laswell's grin. "That's why you're there and not here. And I'd wager a bet that it's why they want you, too."

Much as you hoped a conversation with her would give you some clarity, you're almost more conflicted after the phone call. You thank Laswell for her time and hang up, slowly packing your things. It's after 7:00, and no one has come looking for you. Clearly the boys are waiting on your next move. Instead of heading for the mess or the barracks, you follow your earlier plan and take the bus into town again. This afternoon, you'd noticed a little greek restaurant a few doors down from the bus stop in town, so you head there.

Like many other restaurants on the street, almost the entire front is open to the sidewalk. You sit yourself at a small table for two off to the side. Menus are scattered about, so you snag one, only glancing through the options half-heartedly. When a good looking man in his thirties comes over, winning smile already on his face, and asking in accented English, "What would you like, lovely lady?", you find yourself stuttering over an answer.

What would you like?

Sitting here alone, watching the crowds pass, it hits you exactly what you want. You have an answer, for yourself and the boys.

You utter an apology to the waiter, vowing to yourself to come back later, and hastily grab your things. As you round the edge of the shop, you see a bus coming down the road and recognize the line number as the one you need. Your heels click faster as you race to the bus, hopping on just as the driver is shutting the door. You meander down the aisle, taking a seat near the back and stewing all the way back to base.

Your leg jiggles, foot tapping a nervous staccato as the bus makes its stops. The drive back feels agonizingly longer than the ride to town. By the time you see the base through the front window, you're nearly out of your skin with nerves. You scurry across base and throw open the barracks door open with more force than you intended. There's sound coming from the rec room, so you turn your feet in that direction. You only hope they're all here. You don't know if you have the nerves to do this more than once.

When you open the rec room door, sounds cut off almost immediately. Four pairs of eyes whip to you from various spots around around the room. Simon's eyes rove over you like a starving man at an oasis. Between his watery eyes and the guarded way he's holding himself, Soap reminds of you a hit dog, waiting to see if the next blow will land. John assesses you like a potential threat: what damage might you do to him and his boys? Kyle takes a glance at you and breaks out into a grin as if he knows what you're about to say.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. "Um, I know I've been avoiding you, and I wanted to apologize." You pause and are shocked no one jumps in with a comment the way they usually would. Perhaps they all recognize this for what it is, a defining moment in their lives where they will either get what they've been wanting or lose a chance at it forever.

Your gaze drifts over each man, and you take a deep steadying breath before continuing. "Kyle gave me, well, all of you, really, gave me a lot to think about. About what I want and what you want and what it all means." Though this confession is hard, you try to be as brave as your boys. "I don't know what to do because you're right. I do like you all. I have feelings for you all. And if it were just one, my answer would be easy."

This time when you stop, John says what's already on your heart. "Life is rarely easy, dove. But the best things are worth fightin' for." He gifts you the ghost of a smile.

You nod, "Yes. And you're right. I shouldn't be scared of something just because it's hard. And I'm not, not really."

"Then what?" Simon's voice cuts in, barely restrained agony lancing the words.

"I want to be with you all, but it's going to be hard for me. I'm going to need you to be patient," you tell them.

A smile breaks over Soap's face like a wave crashing ashore. "Bonnie, fer ye, we'd do anything."

Kyle's off his seat and in front of you, hands hovering over your arms. "Does this mean you'll be ours, Oz?" he asks tenderly. Your chin dips slightly, only once, but it's enough. He wraps his arms around you and whispers in your ear, "Always knew ya were meant for us." He presses a kiss to your temple as you feel the others moving around you.

John's lips kiss your cheek again as he says, "That's our girl."

Simon's massive build radiates heat behind you, his hands a warm, comforting weight on your waist as you feel the fabric of his mask press against the crown of your head.

Soap crowds in between Simon and Gaz. His hands cup your cheeks and turn your head to him. He rests his forehead against your and mumbles, "Ye dinnae ken hoo happy this makes me, make us all, tae call ye oors," as he drops a featherlight kiss on your lips.

series masterlist | main masterlist

Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write @thriving-n-jiving @madsothree @silly-starfish @danielle143 @beelzebee @nova-willow-541 @alchemyfreak321 @lilynotdilly @eternallyelvish @viylikescats @erintaro @hidden-treasures21 @lil-writer-523 @mordacioust @echo9821 @yunho-leeknow @aria-writer @chaosundcoffee @boogeysmoth

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #kyle garrick #simon riley #john price #johnny mactavish #nerdygirl says #off to see the wizard

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