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dolicekiss · 3 months

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Bittersweet Belladona

PAIRING: Dark!Will Graham x Yandere!Reader x Dark!Hanninal Lecter

CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+ only, mdni) very dark Will Graham. age gap (reader is twenty two) mention of mental instability, unhinged behavior by all parties, dubcon, stalking, slight blood, choking, hair pulling, manhandling (reader gets her shit clapped) degradation and praise, mention of cannibalism, scratching, slight fluff at the end.

SYNOPSIS: Following along the bloody trail left behind renowned Psychiatrist Dr. Lecter and his kin, Will Graham, your sick obsession had made you somewhat better than the FBI at tracking down the two. In the shadows, you lingered and stalked them both like a new born shadow, oblivious to the fact that you were also captured in their sight. Your twisted infatuation with the two had you cornered soon enough, trapped in an empty museum with them.

You were lured in.

You should've known.

Just why would they commit a crime in the open museum if not to lure you in and trap you?

The two men circled you around like you were their prey, like the man they had killed and formed into a firefly with its wings spread out, hanging in the air. Wings that were made out of the man's skin — red flesh exposed. The sight was spectacular and you wanted nothing more than to click photos of it, capture it in the deepest darkest parts of your mind and savor it forever.

You stared at it in pure awe, not registering the fact that you were trapped.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

It was Will’s deep voice.

Strained and dry, it made you feel something dark inside your chest. You flinched at his voice, retreating a step back but all you felt against your back was Hannibal’s hard chest, as you crashed into him. His tall figure towered over you and you moved forward, in an attempt to get away from him.

“Beautiful like her.” Hannibal spoke, voice cutting the silence like butter. “But too bad she lacks manners, don't you think?”

All you wanted to do was stalk them, learn more about how their minds worked and get to know them. You had never found their acts of violence disgusting, no. It was simply human, their flaws and the gruesome darkness concealed behind their beautiful faces. It was all too fascinating for you but you knew all too well what the two men were capable of.

The proof was levitating right up in the air.

“Following us around, stalking us. Even going as far as to hacking our phones to eavesdrop on our conversations, how fucking impolite and ill mannered.” It was Will, as he snapped at you. Your face set ablaze underneath his searing gaze, feeling terrified as he stared at you.

A look of disgust in his eyes.

“She might as well be the next Freddie Lounds.” You wanted to hide away from the way Will was glaring at you. Glasses long gone, curly strands slicked back as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Your lips trembled. “I—”

Your throat was parched, running dry in an instant as you attempted to speak and come up with some sort of excuse to your bad behavior. You felt like a child trapped between two adults, anticipating a very bad scolding, maybe even a beating too.

“You're scared, hm?” Hannibal reached for your face, squeezing it between his hand. Your lips forming a forced pout. You were trembling in his hold, as resilient as you were.

You'd decided to follow them, in a way, finding solace in them. The cannibalistic murderers of Baltimore, murder husbands, the FBI profiler who eloped with his cannibalistic psychiatrist. Everytime you saw them on the news, you felt a connection form between you and them and tug you towards them. It was profound, what you felt for them and how the people to whom you were an unknown person comforted you.

Without their own acknowledgement.

You didn't want to die.

As much as you had nothing to live for, other than the delusions that you were meant to join the two— you were an empty shell. An unstable mind wandering the world with nowhere to go. You attempted to make a run for it as soon as you felt Hannibal’s grip loosen. Bolting for the large door, your hand nearly grasped onto the golden knob and pulled at the door but Will was quick to run after you, grabbing your hand and pushing you up against the wall next to the door.

His palm laid straight on your cheek, forcing the side of your head along the wall. Holding you firmly in place all while you struggled and became a sobbing, sputtering mess. Pain blossomed in the side of your head, throbbing and roaring through your skull. Like it could grow two large heads more. The rough manhandling caused tears to pool in your waterline, threatening to drop.

You felt horrible, didn't know what was so wrong about wanting to get to know them on a deeper level as they provided you with comfort. Feeling a bit dumbfounded and stupid.

“Please—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Will nearly growled in your ear, a shiver of terror dancing up your spine.

You watched, in your blurred peripheral vision, a figure moving in next to you. It was obviously Hannibal and you stared at him with a plea clear in your eyes.

“She looks so afraid.” He commented, moving his gaze from your face to Will’s. The man still locking you in place. “She's pretty too.”

“I hate to agree.” Will sternly said, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

You struggled and squirmed, all futile and not enough to help you get your freedom. Will’s hand tangled in your hair, fingers grabbing a bunch of your hair and fisting them. He dragged you from the door and tossed you right across the vast space on the floor, watching as your body collided with the hard marble.

You didn't waste a single second in scurrying away from them both. Now you were the prey and they were the predator, stalking upto you like you were their food. Which, you were pretty sure you were going to become. You didn't mind but you couldn't die with a heart aching to be understood, to be seen.

“She deserves a punishment, no?” Hannibal said to will, voice laced with mischief.

You shook your head. “Sorry—so sorry.”

Your tears and apologies were falling upon deaf ears. Will reveled in the feeling of seeing you this helpless, at this mercy and he knew he could crush you beneath his shoe like a dying little bird. Hannibal was more interested in Will and your dynamic, how you craved to be in his presence yet were terrified of him.

He found it endearing, even.

“Oh no, apologies won't cut it, pretty girl.” He said, in a hoarse voice. “I'm gonna make sure you never ever do something so silly like this ever again.”

Fear had consumed your whole being. Fingers trembling and breath hitching. Heart beat pattering like wild raindrops against a glass window. You could feel it thumping in your ears, as nausea took over you. The urge to throw up all over the floor fought to dominate you but you didn't allow it.

“What were you thinking?” Hannibal asked, squatting down next to where you were on the floor, back pressed into an old viking artifact. “Following dangerous men like us around. Just what did you believe you would achieve from it, if not your demise?”

You gulped, staring between the two men.

Glancing at Will and cowering under Hannibal’s gaze.

You didn't dare speak a word. The letters of the word ‘comfort’ burning the tip of your tongue but you didn't say it. The fear that wafted off you was almost arousing for Hannibal Lecter. His strong ability to smell emotions and feelings helping him smell your fear and anxiety.

“Answer him.” Will ordered, reaching forward and squatting down next to Hannibal in front of you. His hand extended out and collected the hair straight from your roots, tugging onto them. It hurt, the burning sensation spreading along your scalp as your neck was craned up.

You stared at him, a lone tear sliding down.

“J-Just wanted to see, w-wanted to see how you both do it.” Broken words uttered by your broken self.

Hanninal and Will looked at each other, seemingly communicating through their minds as their eyes spoke. Hannibal nodded and Will’s attention shifted back to you, this time staring at you with a different type of void behind those blue eyes of his. His grip tightened and you whimpered, fueling your tears.

Then he leaned down and in a rough kiss, captured your lips. Teeth clashing against your skin, tugging and biting on it. Your little fists tried to push him away from you, banging on the expanse of his chest. He didn't budge at all. Will had newfound determination to break you, to break you in order to put your pieces back together.

In a way he'd liked.

Hannibal knew as manipulative as he was, Will Graham was a cunning boy.

You felt him sink his teeth into your lower lip, piercing the skin enough to evoke blood. A trail dripping down, accumulating at the round of your chin. Vision blurry and eyes squeezed tightly, you cried and cried while struggling. It only worsened your situation as you felt someone behind you— taking a hold of your small fists and restraining them behind your back.

Hannibal held you in place tightly, giving full access to Will to have his way with you.

Your lungs expanded, in desperate attempts to suck in air but all you felt was Will’s tongue slipping past the entrance of your mouth. Colliding with yours, like snake, wrapping around it and in a way, the man was fucking your mouth.

Plunging his tongue in an out of your mouth.

Saliva, blood, tears. All of these liquids proved your demise, though not forever. You knew after Will or both the men are done with you, you'd be different. You'd be dead and you'll be reborn.

“Will, do you intend to end her life with a kiss?” Hannibal called out and the man finally, finally retrieved his tongue and broke apart from you.

Terrified to open your eyes, you let them stay shut. You could feel the hot breath of Will mingling with your own, chest moving vertically up and down. Lungs dragging in as much oxygen as the organs could, unaware of when they'll be allowed to breathe ever again.

“Open your eyes.” Hannibal’s hands caressed your wrists as he whispered in your ear.

You didn't listen and that was a grave mistake. That somehow managed to piss Will off more than you invading their privacy. Your disobedience towards Hannibal and as he walloped his hand across your cheek, a ringing sound entered your ears.

It was loud, everything becoming a blur to you.

Just how hard had he hit you?

Your eyes were opened and you blinked profusely, now finally capturing the man in front of you. You noticed the swell of his lips, as well as the blood that was smeared all over it. His slicked back hair now messed up in a few strands dancing over his forehead. You didn't stop your cries this much, soft little sobs echoing in the spacious museum.

“Will,” Hannibal warned. “She's fragile, you shouldn't be this aggressive.”

“She's strong and she knows it. A fragile little girl wouldn't stalk two men all the way from the US to Italy, would she now, princess?” You shook your head.

The obedience you had shown by responding immediately was satisfying for both of them. The slap had worked, and Hannibal took a hold of your chin, moving your face towards him. His scrutinizing gaze hovered over your busted lip. “It's bleeding, poor you. Will is really cruel, isn't he?”

The sheer rudeness and strictness Will Graham expressed and showcased was in complete contrast to Hannibal’s sweet, gentle demeanor. Its like one was meant to leave bruises while the other bandaged those same wounds.

“Please.” You pleaded, completely unaware of what you were actually pleading for. You knew that even if they were to let you go, you would still continue to stalk the men. You couldn't survive separation and it wasn't like you wanted to live with the two or be roommates, no.

You were more than okay with striving in the shadows, only admiring them from afar.

How did they catch you?

Were you that obvious? That obsessed and infatuated that you hadn't realized these men could outsmart you?

Will stared at you, the scared look on your face stirring something primal within his chest. You looked so beautiful, so broken and he saw himself in you. He saw who he was before meeting Hannibal and this — what he was about to do to you — could be your breakthrough.

They could be your pillars.

Hannibal was in absolute awe of the beauty you possessed and were. Just the raw vulnerability you exposed and how dedicated you were to stalking them, it was all endearing to him. To him it felt like you harbored romantic feelings for him, for them both. Like a puppy following its owners.

“Tie her up.” Will said to Hannibal and he nodded — immediately getting to work. Despite the amount of tears you shed, the struggling and the pleadings, it didn't bother them one bit. Hannibal had found a rope, magically and it made you realize all the more of how deep you had fallen into the well.

They came prepared.

Oh they had thought everything out.

They were looking forward to this.

“No, n-no, please. Listen to me.”

Didn't matter. You were nothing but a lifeless little doll, a plaything to keep them entertained. Hannibal tied you up, hands behind your back. Each knot tightened to the point of purple bruising, his hands skilfully moving across your body. It wasn't just your hands he tied, he'd restrained your arms too and the pain begun in your shoulders.

Both of them looked at you, sitting on the floor, tied up. Your dress had riled up to your thighs in the endeavor and it exposed your soft flesh, which seemed to be an invitation for the two men. Hannibal could only think how you'd taste, drenched in honey and garlic, sizzled on a barbeque. The flesh roasted and sprinkled with diced coriander.

Meanwhile Will could feel his cock becoming hard at how fucking hopeless you seemed. Just sitting on the floor, soft little sniffles falling from your lips. Even a few hiccups here and there too. A red handprint on your cheek a clear indication of your disobedience. It was a sight he wouldn't mind if he were to witness it for the rest of his life with Hannibal.

Will leaned down to you, sitting next to you as his hand reached for the exposed flesh of your thighs. When his soothing fingertips touched your skin, you flinched. That act of yours and how unwilling you still were made him tighten his grip on your thighs, nails leaving crescent moons all over the skin.

“You could've chosen a different path. A different life, different interests than the ones you have right now.” There was almost a heavy sadness to his words. Like he missed the person who he was, somewhere deep inside his mind. “Yet you got yourself into such a mess. Trapped with two men. Do you have any idea what we'll do to you, pretty girl?”

You shook your head.

“If you knew coming here would have you end up like this, would you still go through with it?” He stared at you, in anticipation, searching for the answer in your blurry gaze but he didn't need to.

As you nodded your head. Proving the unstable state of your mind. Despite knowing things would end this way, you'd come to this place over and over again. They had noticed you, they'd seen you, felt you. How could it get any better? Yes, you were hurt but did it really matter? It was worth seeing the two perform their art in all its glory.

Hannibal stared at Will and the man scoffed — shaking his head. “You're such a braindead little thing, aren't you?”

You lifted your eyes up from the floor you were on, confused. The confusion gave you the look of a lost puppy, who had no idea just what was even happening to it. Puzzled and all over the place, terrified and lost.

“She's a peculiar one.” Hannibal commented, one hand slipped inside his pocket. “Should we take her?”

“We'll decide that when she's proven to be worthy of it.” His hand inched closer and closer, riding further up your thigh and between them. Your breath hitched, body shivering as you felt his fingers brush against your clothed cunt.

You were already soaked, as confused as you were about it. They had humiliated you, disrespected you, hurt you yet your panties were saturated. Upon feeling the slick coating your inner thighs, Will let out a dark chuckle and showed his fingers to Hannibal.

The slick glistening against the bright lights.

“She's not some innocent little girl. Her cunt is drenched, Hannibal. All because of how we treated her, like some whore.”

You squeezed your thighs together, not wanting Will to pry more but he did. Both hands at both knees, he parted your thighs open fully and exposed you to the lascivious gaze of himself and Hannibal. The wet spot on your beige panties the perfect innuendo that you were aroused, like some fucking animal and it grossed you out.

Why were you feeling this way?

Will’s hand lowered to your cunt, his thumb flat against your covered clit. He moved it in slow, circular motions, watching you in exciting anticipation. Your body twitched, hips immediately beginning to writhe and he scoffed. Your reactions were fucking adorable, both the men in complete awe.

You still wanted out — as good as this felt.

You struggled, squirming your hips and trying to stray further from him but Will grabbed your leg, putting his own over it to refrain you from moving. You whimpered at his heavy weight on your leg, as he continued his ministrations on your cunt. He then finally peeled the panties off you, sliding them down yout ankles and tossing them to the aside.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” He whispered, Hannibal also joining him on the floor.

Both of them stared at your cunt like it was a meal they both had craved for a very, very long time. A fresh set of tears fell as Will parted your pussy open with his thumbs, pink flesh coated with creamy arousal.

Hannibal shifted behind you, pulling you between his own legs. Both his hands caressed your sides, slowly riding upto your breasts. Fingers kneading into the plush of your tits and dragging your dress down, watching the fat mounds bounce out. His own cock hardened at the sight.

Hannibal loved the female body, how beautiful and different it was than a man's. Innocence seeped into it, like a fresh drop from the sun and a tear of the moon.

You looked up at him and shook your head, squirming. “Stop —no. Not right, not right.”

At your resistance, Will delivered a sharp smack across the stripe of your cunt. Watching as the pink deepened. He slid a finger inside you and you whimpered, gaze fixated on Hannibal. The men simultaneously toyed with your body, having their way with it and you could only sit there helplessly and sob.

“She's tight, even around my finger. I wonder how she'll take both of our cocks.” Will’s comment made Hannibal’s concealed cock throb. A low rumble escaping his chest, vibrating against your back. “Don't tempt me, Will.” Hannibal warned, his fingers pinching and tugging at your hardened peaks.

Will soon inserted another finger, staring up at you. He found you disrespectful and downright rude. Somewhere you reminded him of a certain redhead, with how you lurked everywhere in the shadows wherever they were. But he knew you were nothing like Freddie Lounds. You did not possess the same greed she did, the same lust for fame and content.

Instead he saw darkness. The type of darkness that matched his own — a reflection of his own self. He plunged his fingers in and out of you, curving them and gaining access to that sensitive spot. As he hit it, your gummy walls tightened around his digits, greedy cunt sucking them in.

Meanwhile Hannibal forced you to look at him, one hand still toying with your perky tits. He stared down at you, finding you endearing. How you cried, every movement of your little body. The tears pooling in your waterline, the way your lips shivered and produced small sobs, how the fear flashed in your gaze once in awhile. You were so broken and so damaged, he wanted to fix you right up.

By breaking you apart.

“You should've expected this to happen. Stalking dangerous men like us, while being so frail and fragile yourself. Just what did you expect to happen, hm?” His grip tightened on your wrist, as he stared at you.

You had no words. There was nothing on your mind, other than the realization that you were trapped and had nowhere to go. There was no one coming to your salvation and the thought terrified you more than anything. The complexities of your own emotions and thoughts warring together only left you further braindead.

Hannibal captured your lips. At first the kiss was sweet, gentle even but soon you realized it was only to swallow your little sounds. Every time Will bruised your sensitive spot, Hannibal swallowed a gulp of your whimper. These two were like wolves, consuming and sucking the blood out of their prey.

He continued kissing you, prying your mouth open and mingling his tongue with yours. The fact that you still had Will’s saliva in your mouth, also dribbling down your chin and Hannibal kissed the same mouth. It was all too taboo to not turn you on. Your hips shuffling a little only for Will to press his own leg harder down on yours.

Will stared at you both, watching with a burning gaze as Hannibal practically sucked the soul out of you. He scoffed a little, remembering Hannibal’s words from earlier at how he almost ended you with a kiss. The man was doing the same now, just with a much gentle tone.

He didn't even allow you to inhale or breathe, lips locked against yours in a tight firm kiss. You struggled, attempting to move here and there but it didn't work at all. He continued devouring you like you were his last meal. He kissed differently than Will. He kissed with the intention to eat you, with the intention to savor you for the rest of his life.

It was too passionate for you to ignore. Tears sliding down your face. “You can't eat her now, Hannibal. Don't end up biting her tongue off.”

Will’s words made Hannibal stall for a moment, registering what the man had said. He was right, Hannibal couldn't actually eat you now and from how sweet you tasted, he wanted to bite your fucking tongue off and decorate it with your white teeth.

He backed out, after relishing in the taste you had to offer. Hannibal almost flinched at how fucked out you appeared, from a mere kiss. Your vision had blurred, your mind hazy and your cheeks red. You stared at him, partially lost and numb and then more tears slid across your face.

“Let's take her over to the table.” Will passed an order and Hannibal complied, picking you up within seconds. Your legs resting on his waist, as he carried you to the table.

It was somewhere in the back, concealed in a dark corner. Hannibal laid you down against it on your stomach, and you kicked. Your little kicks delivering to his leg but it didn't affect him at all. Your act of disobedience was like drops of fuel against a fire and it angered both of them. Hannibal’s fingers circled around your ankles, holding them in place.

Will walked over to the two of you, and his fingers drowned in your locks. Grabbing a fistful of it, he craned your neck up and made you look at him. “You fucking brat.” Will slapped you across the side of your face, watching you with a burning stare.

Incinerating pain grew on your right cheek as you slowly regained your senses back and registered the slap. Blood trickled down your chin, the source being your busted lip. The trail cold and dark. “S-Sorry.”

“Oh you'll be fucking sorry when we're done with you, whore.” Will turned to Hannibal. “You take her cunt, I take her mouth. She'll know just how easy we were being on her.”

“Don't end up damaging her.” Hannibal responded, grip tightening on your ankles. “I have taken a liking to her, she'll be good entertainment.”

“Fine.” Will replied with a groan.

Then you caught his attention, again. How unlucky you were. You watched as he unzippes his pants and your eyes widened in horror, hearing another zip being pulled down right after Will’s. You shook your head but it caused Will’s grip to tighten.

As he pulled out his cock, you heard shuffling behind you as well. Will tapped his fat tip against your cheek, then slowly running it along your sealed lips. “Are you going to open up or do I have to force you?”

You contemplated. You really contemplated and the slap made you more pliant, as you parted open your lips. On the other hand, Hannibal had pushed your legs apart, his own cock in his hand. He slowly guided it inside you and when you felt his thick head enter you, a high pitched moan echoed within the walls of the museum.

Will pulled your hair. “Stick your fucking tongue out.”

And you obliged. Ashamed and embarrassed, you stuck your tongue out and Will slapped his fat cock flat against it a few times before driving it inside the wetness of your mouth. Feeling them both enter you at the same time, one inside your cunt and the other dominating your mouth. You cried out in pain.

Hannibal looked down at how your pussy hugged his cock, barely halfway through and a low growl rumbled from his chest upon seeing the ring of blood around his cock.

You were a virgin.

“She's a virgin Will.” Hannibal called out, pushing himself deeper inside you. To a point where no one else has been. “Poor girl probably wanted something sweet, something gentle for her first time.”

Will practically melted at the fact that you were a virgin. Completely untouched. He wondered how could that be possible with the way you appeared and how your body was carved by the gods them selves? But he didn't care. It was perfect. You were perfect.

Made for them.

Crafted for them by the same god they both resented.

Will’s gaze dropped down at you, watching you as your lips squeezed around his cock and sucked him in. “Ever sucked a cock before, princess?”

The term which was usually used for endearment sounded so ironic when it came from Will. Like he was mocking you, using it to taunt you. He didn't mean it when he called you that. He was only using it to make you feel horrible, calling you a princess while treating you worse than a peasant.

You shook your head. You were foreign to the idea of such explicit activities before this very night but now, you were stuffed two cocks. One in your mouth and one in your cunt.

You felt Hannibal’s cock grow thicker inside you at the information, its veins throbbing against your gummy walls. A muffled cry of despair left you as Will continued sliding his cock further into your mouth. “If I feel one tooth, I will punch them right out of your mouth. Got it?”

You inhaled through your nose, nodding.

“Good.” Will released your hair as both his hands settled against your face. He held your face, the head of his cock pushing past your palate and uvula as a loud groan mixed in with your muffled whimpers. He snapped his hips, not caring that you were choking all over his cock.

Saliva trailing down your chin, making a mess around your mouth. You moved your shoulders, all the while Hannibal held you tightly against the table by your hips and fucked you like some wild beast. Both men used their full strength, snapping their cock inside you and it left you light headed.

“She's squeezing me in so much, almost as if she likes this.” You heard Hannibal grunt, his cock slamming against your cervix. From how hard his fingernails dug into your flesh, you knew your skin was bloodied by now.

Hannibal’s gentle demeanor was out the fucking window, replaced with the monster he truly was.

As Will’s cock slid along the surface of your tongue, his hips bucked and he fully bottomed out in your mouth. You could feel his head at the back of your throat and gagged all over it, tears splattering out of your eyes. It was all a mess. You couldn't even breathe anymore and let out little screams — which were muffled and only worked as vibrations against Will’s throbbing length, nearing him to his orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. I bet her little cunt is as tight as her mouth. It's like I'm fucking a pussy.” Will whimpered, slurring out soft little pants.

Hannibal groaned in respond. “Show me her face, Will. Right now.”

Will nodded, pulling out of your mouth only for a few seconds as he flipped you on your back and pushed your head up, holding it for Hannibal to witness the mess he'd created out of you. A mirror with broken shards, showing Hannibal a reflection of himself.

He almost came at the sight of you.

Looking so fucked up. Hair a mess. Lips bruised, bloody and swollen. Tears and saliva running down in rivulets. You were a fucking sight for sore eyes and Hannibal wanted this every single day. He needed to witness this every single day.

And he never needed anything.

“So beautiful. So fucking—” He snapped inside you, his pace becoming rough and animal like thrusts founding their way against your bruised spot. “beautiful but such an impolite little girl.”

He spat as the sound of skin against skin echoed in the room. Bouncing off the walls of the museum, reaching the carved out ancient ceiling. The cupids listening to each and every noise made in sin.

Will dropped your head down, your neck bending slightly as he shoved his cock back inside your mouth. This new position gave him all the power to fuck your mouth thoroughly, watching as the imprint of his cock inside your throat formed against your skin. Bulging and moving along the skin.

It turned him on like nothing else.

He glared at you, eyebrows furrowed in pure pleasure, lips parted to allow heavy pants escape it. Will Graham looked fucking breathtaking when the sweat trickled down his forehead. You were wondering if this was that bad, if them taking you against your will was anything bad.

But it was the pleasure getting to your head.

Of course this was morally wrong and fucked up.

But who had morals in this room?

One was a cannibal, the other was an accomplice and murderer and you were an unhinged stalker.

“Fuck you looking at huh?” He asked you, abruptly slapping your chest. Your back arched and you let out a whimpered cry, almost tempted to use your teeth.

But you were well aware what that act would cost you.

Will gasped out, feeling his orgasm nearing while Hannibal looked at Will. He could only admire the view before him and as he fucked your cunt, his own orgasm came knocking at his door. Both of them imitated each other's pace, fucking you like wild animals during mating season.

They came soon and the intimacy of them cumming together was so intense. Hannibal’s load shot out, coating your gummy walls and filling you up to the brim. Will’s thrusted, and as you subconsciously tightened your mouth around him, the man also released into your mouth.

His moans had evolved into whimpers and gasps, breathing ragged as he emptied himself inside you. Balls throbbing and hips bucking. It was fucking intense, for both Hannibal and Will. His fingernails dug into the wood for support, fucking your mouth leisurely to ride out his orgasm. Hannibal had left marks on your thighs and hips from how roughly he'd gripped them, as well as blood trails from his nails.

Coated in your own blood, your once untouched and unclaimed skin was now drenched in sin — purity long snatched by the hands of the devil himself. In your case, both Hannibal and Will relresented the Devil. Falling angels they were.

As Will pulled out from your mouth, he caught a glimpse of all his load sitting there in your mouth. It's taste salty and texture thick. Something you'd never ever experienced in your mouth.

“Swallow it.” He ordered and you shut your mouth, swallowing it all. It felt gross and weird against your throat but you didn't complain, only a look of grimace crossed your face.

You still hadn't cum.

Your body twitching and aching. Your cunt screaming for its own release, knots building up in your stomach and thighs convulsing. You were close too but Hannibal stopping made you let out a whimper of frustration.

“Look at her, Hannibal. Twitching and whimpering for a release, huh.” Will scoffed, lips shuddering as he inhaled long chains of oxygen.

Hannibal pried open your hole with his thumbs, watching as his cum oozed out of you and pooled on the table. Your gaping hole sputtered, more cum leaking out and Hannibal licked his lips at the sight. “Although she has not been an obedient girl, I think she deserves her release too for taking us so well. Don't you, Darling?”

You nodded.

You needed this feeling of intense desire and wanton to disappear. This frustration that bit at your stomach, nipped away little pieces of flesh.

Will walked over to Hannibal as the man took you into his arms, sliding his cock back inside you. This time Will sat on top of the table, his half soft cock fully hardening at the evil idea that cooked in his mind. He held your ass, opening it with both his hands and slowly pressing his tip against your rim.

Your eyes widened. “N—No.”

“Still resisting us? Knowing we've claimed you, all of you? How naive.” Hannibal commented, face only a few inches apart from yours. He slid his cock inside your cunt as Will lowered you onto his. The two men were gonna tear you apart, you knew that.

Their girth and length were both something you couldn't handle, not at once at least. But Will didn't care — and Hannibal shared that. Feeling the burning stretch in your ass, you shrieked as Will entered you. A tear slid down your face, disappearing into your parted lips as Hannibal held you for Will.

“It hurts— hurts please.” You cried, like a broken doll and Hannibal pressed a kiss against the corner of your lips. “It'll feel better soon. You shouldn't feel pain. You're only a set of holes for our pleasure, aren't you?”

You didn't answer, too lost in the searing pain in your bottom. Will wasn't even half way through, you could feel it and yet it felt like you were being ripped apart. Hannibal’s cock stayed inside you, not movinf at all. Allowing Will to first adjust himself inside you.

“Answer me.” Hannibal held you with one hand, as he lightly smack you with the other.

You nodded. “Yeah, only a set of holes for your pleasure.”

Hearing you accept it like this, so vocally and out loud. Will lost it and slammed you down onto his cock, bottoming out. Pain bloomed in your ass and you screamed but before it could reach the ears of people somewhere outside the museum, Hannibal captured your lips in a rough kiss.

He licked at your tongue, teeth against teeth while fucking into you slowly. Will sat there as Hannibal moved you up and down on his cock and the burning sensation only grew with each thrust. “Stupid fucking whore. Just what was going through your head, this young and dedicating your life to stalking men twice your fucking age. It's like you wanted this to happen to you, yeah? Two cocks in you at once.”

Will’s filthy words was like alcohol, and blitzed you were. Guilt consumed you and somewhere their manipulation was seeming to work on you in this vulnerable moment. You should've know better. This was bound to happen. Just what were you expecting? That they would invite you into their lives with an open, warm embrace?

You were so fucking stupid.

Hannibal parted from you, his forehead pressed against you as he settled you down against Will’s thighs. You sniffled, feeling his cock all the way inside your ass as Hannibal used your cunt. You felt nothing more than some whore that was here for their pleasure, their sake.

Your stomach flipped and churned, a disclaimer that your release was near. Your thighs shook terribly and when Will pushed upward, you surged forward and leaned against Hannibal’s chest. You tightened around them both, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

“Oh she's close. I can feel her. She's gonna snap my fucking dick in half.” Will grunted, as you twitched. Then it came. That strong, bone chilling feeling of pleasure, consuming your whole being. Eyes witnessing white and lips agape, high pitched moans slurring out and tainting the purity of the museum.

You felt the potent need of release take over you ans you gushed out, squirting all over the men. Your body going limp and losing all its strength, falling over to Hannibal. All you saw was darkness, as your eyes stayed closed and your chest moved up and down. Frame suffering from convulsions.

For a moment you thought they'd stop but what a mistake it was.

“She's made quite the mess, Will.” Hannibal commented, his button up soaked in your release.

Will released a hoarse chuckle, his chest rumbling. The man started fucking into your ass, watching as it revived you back but this time you had no resistance left in you. One orgasm had sent you over the edge, overestimated and sensitive. You whined into Hannibal’s chest, tears staining his shirt as Will continued fucking into you.

Hannibal was also in pursuit of Will, his cock carrying its assault on your cunt. Encouraging broken whines out of you. The two were also stimulated enough and after fucking you for awhile, they too came.

Feeling Will’s load in your ass was a weird feeling. It was uncomfortable but what made it even more uncomfortable was Hannibal’s cum leaking out of your cunt, as he fucked it back into you.

You fell against Will’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. Face drained and numb, no energy left in you whatsoever. You were so fucked out and numb — no expression on your face as you stared at Hannibal.

“She's fucked.” Will said, with a laugh as he stared at the worried expression on Hannibal’s face.

He tapped his fingers over your cheek. “Hey, can you hear me?”

You didn't respond. Completely broken and tired. You craved solace in that moment, absurdly from the two men who were the sole cause of all this. How fucked up could this situation get?

“Hey.” His taps on your cheek grew harder but you didn't respond. Will sat up straight, arm wrapped around your waist as he held you against him. “Fuck, I think we damaged her.”

“We?” Hannibal raised a brow.

Will narrowed his eyes at him. “Don't pretend as if you weren't manipulating her into thinking this was all her fault, all the while fucking her.”

Hannibal looked at you, also tapping at your face but to no avail. You were completely speechless and devoid of any human emotion. Like some fucking statue.

“All the fucking left her braindead huh.” Will whispered and then he leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss against you cheek. He shook your body lightly and there you were.

Staring at him, with your innocent eyes and his heart clenched. You still had remnants of who you were, just like all of them but he knew this would change you.

“There you are.” Hannibal said, a wave of relief washing over him. You stared between the two men and finally gathered the courage to reply to their question.

“Comfort.” Both their gazes narrowed in on you when you spoke, voice strained and almost gone from all the moaning you did. “You a-asked me what I believed I would ac—” You coughed out before continuing, “achieve from this. Comfort.”

Will’s jaw tightened.

Hannibal found you even more endearing than before. How foolish yet adorable of you to think being with them could bring you comfort. He caressed away the drop of nearly dried blood from your chin, watching it taint your skin further.

“Let's go, we're going home.” The blonde said — as Will nodded his head. He liked the idea of taking a broken person like you home, especially when you had chased them only as a means to seek comfort. He didn't know whether to think of it as something sad or something sweet.

But both of them had plenty of time to decide that, as they were taking you home.

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kopilot-pop · 5 months

Text

[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #3

-imagine.

Summary: Silly little fics of you and the gorls. You’re basically the tired father figure in their lives.

Warning(s): Cursing, car accident?, bribing a worker?,!crack humor, Hanni has a stalker, you get violent, etc.

A/N: This is like really unserious lmao. I wrote it really lighthearted. Also, this was written over the course of the whole Ador vs Hybe situation. So please understand I’m slowly becoming more unhinged as the story goes.

———————————————————————

You’re strong. I mean physically strong. All of New Jeans, hell, ADOR knows that.

Oh where’s Y/n unnie?; She’s out for a jog.

Unnie is your hand okay?; Yeah, I just had a sparring match today.

That’s just a part of your life.

Fans adore this about you, the girls adore this about you, and today, you’ve come to appreciate this fact too.

Especially when a stalker decided to show his face again at the airport.

It’s been about 2 months since you’ve last seen the man. He went viral on the news (by news I mean Dispatch) for being Hanni’s stalker.

The last time you met him - oh, it was ugly.

He snuck into a performance venue disguised as a staff member. You were the one that caught him lurking near the MC waiting room.

‘Hanni’s supposed to be in there.’

Five. seconds.

That’s all it took for Hanni’s scream to pierce your ear.

The stalker barged into the room, grabbed the girl, and attempted to drag her towards the exit.

You don’t remember much after that scene.

Actually you might remember punching his face something and throwing something him across the wall, but that doesn’t really matter does it?

It mattered alot to Dispatch, who got a hold of the security footage, and decided to share it for the world to see.

The whole situation cause alot of debates of “Oh he’s a stalker. He deserved it. Good job Y/n!” versus “Wow, you didn’t have to get that violent Y/n.”, and in the end, the company decided to put you on a short hiatus and a long scolding from the producer.

Currently, you guys are standing across a crosswalk in front of the airport. The six of you are scheduled to perform in Paris in a few days and decided to get there early to settle in. You all planned a short vacation before having a whole week of dancing after dancing.

So imagine your surprise to see the dirty little freak right between the paparazzis - with a broken camera, might I add - staring at your group.

After acknowledging his presence, you quickly turned to Hanni - hoping that she didn’t notice him yet.

Unfortunately, you were too late.

Hanni’s body was slightly shaking and you could see the fear in her eyes as she stares directly towards the area where the stalker is.

Instinctively, you rushed to her side, and held her waist with your arm.

“I’m not letting him get to you, bub.”

“I.. oh you saw him too?”

“Mm-hm, and I’ll sucker-punch him if he tries to touch you again, alright?”

Hanni giggles, “Nooo, I don’t want you to be stuck in our dorms again!”

“I think it’ll be worth it if I get to break his nose this time, no?”

Minji - overhearing your conversation - butts in.

“Please don’t break anybody’s nose today unnie.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Minji gives you a skeptical look and you give her an innocent smile.

When the crosswalk light turns green, the whole group starts to walk through the group of people, as security tries to make enough room for you guys to pass.

The six of you were just about to manage through the gates when Hanni’s pained scream cuts through the air. You snap your head towards your right to see the same stalker gripping a fist-full of her hair.

And in just a millisecond, a loud crack replaces the girl’s scream.

The paparazzis’ cameras went wild with flashes - all trying to capture how you grabbed the man by his collar and slammed your fist right into his nose. Your pupils were blown wide, piercing right through the stalker writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!!”

Minji was the only one quick enough to snap out of her shock and grab onto you before you could attempt to break anymore of his bones..

Yeah, guess you’re not making it to Paris.

———————————————————————

“UNNIE!! Look at this!!”

Danielle happily skips over to the rack filled to the brim with different bunny plushies. You, her and Haerin all decided to go to a state fair that was happening only an hour away from the hotel.

Technically, you were dragged here by the two of them, but that doesn’t matter.

You watched as the girls looked through the pile of plushies while sipping in your smoothie.

‘Is this what parenthood feels like..’

When the two of them finally chose a bunny they liked, they simultaneously looked over to you… expectingly..

“What. Wait. I already bought us food?”

They nod.

“And hats, I bought us three hats.”

They nod, again.

They’re now directly under your nose, giving you those big puppy eyes. Sweat drips down your back, and it’s definitely not because of the Texas heat.

With a exasperated sigh, you reach into your back pocket and take out your card.

“Excuse me, how much for two of those plushies?”

“Oh, so sorry, but those aren’t for sale. You have to win 50 tickets to win two of them!”

The worker gives you a smile and continues helping out a family near the shooting range. When you turn around, Danielle has a clear pout on her face.

“Aww.. I thought I could buy them..”

“Not you, I could buy them.”

“Potato po-tah-to.”

For a moment you think of the choices you have. It’s either waste cash on a rigged shooting range, give up on the plushes, and.. oh.

“Can the two of you get wait in line for the bucket of cookies over there? Here-”

You hand over a 20$ bill. Danielle squeals happily and Haerin finally has a tiny smile on her face. The older girl grabs her hand and runs towards the stand.

As soon as they turn their backs on you, you slither over to the worker again.

“I need the plushies.”

“Wha- oh it’s you again. Look man, we have a policy that we can’t sell the prizes for c-cash.. wha..what is that..”

You quickly tuck a 100 dollar bill into his front pocket and give him an innocent smile.

“Dude, this isn’t a drug deal, I- ugh, fine, I’ll grab you the fucking plushies”

“Thank you :D”

You carry the two bunny plushies in your arms and a giant teddy bear the man gave you in return for a signature to give to his sister.

You awkwardly walk towards your groupmates while balancing the giant furball on your back.

“Y/n unnie!!! Oh my god! What is that?!”

Danielle looks clearly surprised, but you can tell she’s having a hard time containing her smile. Haerin’s trying her best to help you with the teddy bear.

“I.. uh…-holyshitthisisheavy- I hit the jack pot! Yeah, jackpot….”

You give them a toothy grin, not noticing the group of people taking photos of the three of you, and definitely not realizing the absolute fever Twitter is having over the pictures.

———————————————————————

“I’m telling you guys, nothing’s gonna happen-”

A loud scream cuts off Minji as a ghost jumps out from the wardrobe.

Hanni and Danielle screams louder than the ghost, and runs into your arms in fear. You turn around to see Minji in the same situation as you - just with Hyein.

“Nevermind…” Minji rolls her eyes as the actor scurries off to a different room.

But her nonchalant behavior doesn’t last long when something under the bed grabs her ankle. She screams and - quite literally - jumps into your arms.

“WHY DID YOU CHOOSE A HAUNTED HOUSE FOR YOUR BUCKET LIST.”

The moment you let down a wide-eyed Minji, Hanni grabs your collar and shakes you; Pretty sure she’s trying to get revenge, but having absolutely no impact.

“Ack- I thought it would be fun..”

“FUN?! YOU THINK GHOSTS AND DEAD PEOPLE ARE FUN???!!!”

While Hanni growls at you with tears in her eyes, Haerin bravely opens the next door, only to be met with a doll dropped right in front of her face.

The shock causes her to let out a scream-

‘My ears are ringing.’

which you never expected from her - and run towards you to use your body as a shield.

“ALRIGHT, you guys stand behind me, and I’ll open all the doors, okay? That way I’m the one being threatened by the next ghoul or whatever…”

The girls nod their heads in unison. Hanni finally lets go of your collar to grip onto your left arm.

You cautiously kick open several doors, trying to find the exit, and on the third try you finally find another long corridor with a glowing exit sign at the end. The 6 of you slowly walk towards it but freezes when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw starting echoes from behind.

You’re the only one brave enough to turn around and see the clown standing in the middle of the room you guys just left.

“Okay, don’t panic but there’s a clown-”

The girls scream in unison as they sprint towards the exit like their life depends on it. You follow suit, and use your body to bust down the last door.

The whole group falls toward the ground together, and the younger girls naturally grab onto you, tightly closing their eyes in fear.

“Um… Congrats…?”

When you see the employee standing behind the counter, you sigh in relief that the haunted house is over.

“Guys, we escaped the house.”

They finally detach from you to take a look around their surroundings.

“Oh! Well that was nothing.” Hanni scoffs confidently, causing everyone around her to let out a deep sigh.

———————————————————————

“We got into a car accident.”

“WHAT?!”

You jump up from the bed - almost dropping your phone - and check the contact name again.

“Yeah, I think Haerin unnie has a concussion.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.”

You quickly put the phone on speaker and fumble around to find your jacket.

“Yeah.. so since Haerin unnie got her license we decided to take your car out for a drive..”

“Wait, wait- MY CAR?!”

“Yeah, you said we can take it out whenever we want? Anyways, we decided to go to the beach… but the road was really messy, I think my phone is glitched, unnie.”

“HUH?!”

“We kinda went down this hill… blah blah blah… we hit a telephone poll- blah blah….”

“Oh my god.”

You rush out the door to the location Hyein has told you. When you arrive, you spot the girls and your BMW M3 that you recently acquired after begging your uncle for 3 months to sell it to you.

With a quick glance you can tell that - thankfully - the car is only a little scratched up, so you immediately turn your attention to the girl curled up in the driver’s seat.

Haerin’s head is against the handle with both of her arms covering her face. Her knuckles are almost white.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

The only response you receive is a tiny groan from the younger girl.

“Hyein said you might have a concussion? Can you look at me sweetheart?”

“She’s been like this the whole time.” Hyein chimes in.

“The car can be fixed, it’s fine, just a scratch. But it’s more important to me if you’re fine, bub.”

With that a few seconds of silence passes and you finally get a tiny ‘I’m okay’ from Haerin.

“Alright then, let’s move you to the backseat so I can drive us to the hospital, okay? Hyein, get in the passenger seat.”

“Hell yeah! Shotgun!!”

You carry Haerin to the backseat, but as you try to get her seatbelt on, you finally notice the frown on her face.

“Haerin, I’m not disappointed you guys took my car out. I told you guys you’re free to do that. However, I am upset that you guys weren’t careful and got hurt. Okay? We can talk about that after we check if the two of you are fine.”

“What- me too?”

“YES, YOU TOO. YOU WERE ALSO IN THE CAR!”

Hyein pouts at your disbelief. You sigh and give Haerin a peck on her forehead, and hurry to your seat to get to the hospital.

“Put your seatbelt on bub, I’m speeding to the ER.”

“W-wait, you just told us to be caref-AHHH!!”

———————————————————————

A/N: This was fun to write lol.

616 notes · View notes

darealsaltysam · 7 months

Text

I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING DUNE PART 2 AND HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUUUUCK I NEED TO. I NEED TO. I NEED TO TALK SO BAD HOLY SHIT

below the cut because oh boy do i have a lot to say and i dont want my poor followers to suffer when i post this

oh my god okay okay where do i even start

opening with irulan's narration to mirror her notes in the openings of the chapters of the book. oh yeah baby. i ate that right up

watching paul get close with the fremen,,,,, fucking hell that hurts. dune really is a tragedy at the end of the day huh. they go from reluctant allies to friends but the whole time you know the switch will happen any moment now and they will be devotees and he will be messiah and that gap between them will never be as small as it is out in the sand. huddled in those tents. sharing drinks and laughs. im not doing ok

this especially hurts with chani. their love is so genuine and pure and she wears blue for him (which by the way sticks out so much more with how muted the colors of the rest of the movie are... i could talk about this all day) but she can see what he is becoming and he's trying to avoid it for her so hard but there's no avoiding fate. LORD ABOVE!!!!

i loveeee jessica being the manipulator thats pulling all the strings, urging paul towards becoming messiah. rebecca ferguson is such a talented actress she really understands the character so well. also as a hashtag certified alia atreides enjoyer her scheming with her unborn fetus might be the most unhinged thing ever but thats also so fucking funny aka its as dune as it gets. dune is WEIRD and im glad theyre not shying away from that. thank u denis

arrakis looks so much more beautiful in this movie like theres defo been some changes with how its framed and presented it feels so much grander and idk just ??? what it makes me think is that we're not seeing arrakis, we're finally seeing dune. we're seeing the land as the fremen see it as paul becomes one of them. i might be looking too much into it but who cares. god i love this movie

but yes more on the fremen in the first section of the movie. i like how there's this cluster of non-believers almost?? its a nice breath of fresh air. its hard to believe every single person would be just devoted to the prophecy and it adds some depth.

i will say the one thing i didnt like is the way stilgar is characterized?? i dont think he was so blindly devoted to paul in the books, and definitely not alia and leto ii after him as the atreides line went on. he's always been a source of small doubt towards paul but i think they're moving that element of him onto chani, so i think i can let it slide. i'd like to see him question alia more in the future though.

the scene where paul was named muad'dib and usul??? god it was so cute which made it so heart wrenching. all the fremen coming together and welcoming him into their lives. as a brother. as a friend. only for him to turn around and make them all bow before him. ohhhhh i cant do this

OH BOY THE WORMS THE WORMS AND THE WORM RIDING AND THE AHHHHHHHHH OH LORD

jesus christ. what the fuck. how is this allowed on cinema screens how is something so amazing allowed

the tension. the effects. the sound design. the sand rushing past the wind the worm moving forward paul struggling to hold on the fremen all watching and then cheering him on HOLY FUCKKKK HOLY FUCK I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH

all the worm riding scenes were so intense and so well done like. when i first read that stuff in the books i didnt think anything could ever capture how i imagined it exactly and yet. AND YET. DENIS!!!!!!!!

once more dune hits the idea of scale SO well everything is HUGE and they MAKE YOU FEEL IT. that shows especially with geidi prime but ill talk about that in a bit. but yes this applies to the worms too lord above them WORMSSSS ARE HUGEEEE AND I LOVE THEMMMM

rebecca ferguson put her heart and soul into that water of life scene and we all need to thank her for it

the way jessica is so quick to switch up and go all in on the prophecy. it makes me think of leto's "im not asking his mother, im asking the bene gesserit" like. the bene gesserit really come first for jessica and she takes her opportunity to fulfill her duties. to be the reverend mother. to rub it all in the faces of the other bene gesserit. she is the mother of the messiah and by god will she make everyone well aware of that

okay. okay okay. i think i said my peace on the early fremen stuff. i think. okay fuck okay SHIT fuck SHIT

FEYD FUCKING RAUTHA LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

oh my god okay. okay ill admit it. i doubted austin butler. i saw the cast list and i was unsure(tm). i saw him in the trailers and my faith was restored. and holy fucking shit did he DELIVER

stellan skarsgård's baron harkonnen is already such a threatening figure it feels like it would be impossible to make someone even more terrifying and yet. AND YET

just the way he's introduced. killing servants with zero remorse. LICKING THAT KNIFE THE WAY HE DID??? OKAY WHORE. I SEE YOU. GO RIGHT AHEAD. MAKE IT SLUTTY IN HOUSE HARKONNEN. I RESPECT IT

when the arena doors open and that loud ass fucking music BOOMS. makes the room fucking SHAKE. thats a PRESENCE right there. THATS how you introduce your antagonist.

the music playing as he fights being as fucking deranged as he is. chaotic and weird and unsettling. just. oh my god feyd had such a presence from the moment he showed up and he did not lose it for a single second. you could feel him LOOMING over the movie the whole time just as he looms over the whole book from his very first scene. oh my goddddd oh my godd

GEIDI PRIME. THE ARENA. THAT MASSIVE HARKONNEN PALACE. oh my god. once more. that sense of scale. the harkonnens love to flaunt their wealth so ofc they have huge fuck off arenas and castles where everything and everyone feels so SMALL in comparison.

dont even get me started on the black and white. the way it accents those coal black teeth and mouths. the way it makes everything look so much more inhuman and clinical and PERFECT because harkonnen power is so absolute and ruthless.

and the way the baron sits so so high above watching the fighting. literally impossible to picture his elevation above his people above the rest of the universe. the way feyd looks to him for approval after every movement. even as his uncle is trying to kill him they exchange those little looks and feyd knows hes getting his chance to show off while the baron gives him his "gift" what a fucked up family what the hell

speaking of fucked up family! wow! they are SO fucked up! there is something seriously strange being hinted at with feyd and the baron! feyd making his own brother bow and kiss his boot! those constant threats of death against rabban as if theyre nothing! this family is capital f FUCKED up. they hurt each other as much as they hurt everyone around them. theyre made of violence and blood and they could never show each other kindness because they dont know such a thing

what can i say about the feyd/margot scenes that hasnt been said already. like wow just unpack the boy's trauma like that. use him and then throw him to the wolves. once again the bene gesserit make it so clear this is THEIR empire and THEIR bloodlines and THEIR messiah. too bad jessica doesnt see that collective "ours" and instead settles for "mine" when it comes to the messiah

special shout out to dave bautista before i move on. just cause. his rabban doesnt get enough love. he really sells that balance of ruthless power but also incompetency compared to his brother so well. can you guys tell i REALLY like this cast

WE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE GURNEY PLAYING THE BALISET WE FUCKING WIN Y'ALL

the paul/gurney reunion being the last shred of the old paul. how he gets so happy "i recognized your footsteps, old man" shoot me in the fucking brain stem it would HURT LESS

a bit off topic and it happened earlier (sorry my thoughts are so all over the place) but i like how they actually showed the process of how the water of life is made. it was actually exactly like how i imagined it when i read the books so thats neat !!

anyway. back to the horrors.

i already talked so much about feyd's presence so just another small note. that scene in sietch tabr. he is a MONSTER and i am EATING IT UP

i cant even begin to explain. how much it fucked me up. when paul took the water of life. i knew thats where we were going. i knew it was unavoidable. and yet still. when chani bent over him and screamed at everyone for making him follow this prophecy. when she was forced to shed tears to save his life. when she got him back only to realize she lost him and he wasnt the person she loved anymore. it broke me

chani's utter hatred for the prophecy and what paul is becoming added to it so much. i know some people are unhappy with how much shes been changed from the books but i think its elevated her character and all these scenes so much. and oh my god does zendaya DELIVER when the spotlight is on her. i never doubted her for a moment but all those changes to chani really allowed to let her shine. thats that euphoria acting coming out baby !!!!

SPEAKING OF GOOD ACTING

TIMOTHEE

FUCKING

CHALAMET

listen i hate the fact that he gets cast in everything these days as much as everyone but hes such a talented actor and i cant deny this anymore. the water of life scene really sold it for me.

he was such a perfect paul already in the first movie but this was the moment it really came out. the way he wakes up so calm and collected. lifeless. monotone. theres nothing theres literally nothing

paul atreides the boy who became duke far too young is dead usul who was the lover of chani is dead muad'dib the fedaykin fighter is dead only the kwisatz haderach remains and thats what the prophecy was always leading us to and yet the moment it happens its so haunting

like i cannot say this enough. that complete switch is so sudden but so subtle at the same time. its still paul technically but hes so different

what makes dune's weird concepts so easy to take in once you get into the book is all that internal monologue that really leads you through these complex concepts slowly. and yet in a few shots and a few lines of dialogue timothee chalamet somehow manages to express the idea of "i just learned the secrets of the fucking universe and im about to start a holy war" ???? HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS???? HOW ARE YOU THIS TALENTED???? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT WAS A FEW LOOKS A FEW MOVENTS JUST THE RIGHT TONE OF VOICE AND THATS HIM!!! THATS HIM BABY!!!! THATS THE KWISATZ HADERACH AND THE UNIVERSE IS FUCKED !!!!!!!!!

also. anya taylor joy alia. we only had you for a split second but i cannot wait for you. im sure youre going to completely slay the third movie. give us our beloved tragic meow meow. alia is my fave character so i will be JUDGING HEAVILY. she better bring her a-game istg

when paul storms the war council and just completely takes control of the room so easily. thats the bene gesserit conditioning giving him his pedestal and he is making the most of it. he knows exactly what the fuck hes doing. and once more oh my goddddd all that shouting all that emotion and yet a complete lack of it. timothee spare a crumb of talent for the rest of us

also the way in that scene gurney is hesitant about it all until paul proclaims himself the duke of arrakis. and suddenly gurney has house atreides again and he doesnt care what chani does anymore. hes a follower to paul just as everyone else in that room. nothing changes. fuck me man i cant do this anymore

have i mentioned yet im so excited for chani in the next movie. her arc is so interesting. children of dune is defo not happening with the way chani has been set up so i doubt we'll see leto ii and ghanima but. lets hope we still get all the cool stuff wit alia at least. and maybe chani can be the one who leads the charge against her

okay i need to really fucking. get along with it im dragging this post on im so sorry this movie is eating my brain alive

chani still wearing blue during the final fight. im not saying more than that i might cry if i think about it too much

THAT. FINAL. FIGHT. OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD

IT ALL CAME TOGETHER SO SO WELL

THE WORMS

THE SENSE OF SCALE

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY

THE MUSIC HOLY FUCK THE MUSIC HANS ZIMMER YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY TIME

THE SOUND

EVERYTHING FLOWING TOGETHER SO WELL

the way the fremen fight for their messiah but still fly the atreides banner. the way paul leads them as their messiah and as a "fremen" but always proclaims himself duke of house atreides first. oh lorddd im unwell

every time paul menacingly emerged from fog/sand/smoke my life was extended by like 10 years thank u denis

gurney killing rabban with as much ease as he did cleared my skin and watered my crops <3

the way the baron was literally dying and still crawling towards the throne.......... the way at the same time feyd ignored him completely and looked towards the doors reveling in the fight ahead..... if that doesnt tell u everything you need to know about house harkonnen idk what will yall

i also love how no one intervenes as paul walks in and kills the baron. not even feyd. feyd looks like he was a little TOO into it as paul killed him tbh. feyd u little freak. austin butler you talented talented man. im unwell

i AM sad we didnt get to see baby alia stab him but ah well. we got a bunch of other weird dune shit so ill let this one slide. the psychic toddler may be too much even for denis and everything he did give us. we'll always have our 1984 alia <3

OHOHOHOHOHOHOH. OH. HERE WE GO

HERE WE GO YALL

THE SCENE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE READING THE BOOK

THE SCENE THEY SHOWED BITS OF IN THE TRAILER AND THE SCENE IVE BEEN NON STOP YEARNING FOR SINCE!!!

THE DUEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd where do i even start

okay so. the way theres no music. no fancy cuts no slow mo no over the top effects. its just the slashing of the blades and those BEAUTIFUL shadowed shots with the setting sun in the background. this really is the sun setting on the peaceful universe. just pain and suffering ahead marked with the blood spilled from the two who were meant to produce the messiah but who both got thrown off this path by the greed and selfishness of their forefathers. guys im normal about paul and feyd. definitely. i definitely have very normal thoughts about how they are foils and yet two sides of the same coin. yes guys

paul making the emperor kiss his ring is already such an insane fucking scene and it translated to the screen so well. amazing performances all around

i didnt talk much about florence pugh's irulan but she really didnt have much time to shine. im excited to see where she goes next and i definitely think shes a great fit but i need to see more of her to really be able to say more

i will say this. the way chani, irulan and jessica are the only ones who dont kneel for paul. the three most important women in his life who give him his power, everything he has. jessica made him and she made him the messiah. chani opened her life up to him, helped him become and in turn control the fremen, and she shed her tears for him and fulfilled her role in the prophecy against her wishes. irulan is his path to the throne, his key to being emperor. and none of them bow before him because why would they bow before a power they are responsible for, a power they own, a power they gave?

but for chani its different ofc. she also refuses to bow because she despises everything paul stands for.

oh my god i could say so much about the last scene being chani. not paul reveling in his victory. paul leaves for his next bloodshed and chani is left behind crying for the person she loves who she knows is gone. crying for her people, again enslaved. crying those same tears that brought the messiah back into this world.

theres a lot to be said about the role of gender in dune and how it hangs over every facet of this world but thats a whole separate analysis post to be had so ill just throw it down here in this little point

another thing chani does very well in the movies is she really makes paul's villainy explicitly clear. SO many people read dune and completely misunderstand it and walk away from it concluding its a "white savior narrative" and nothing more which. yes!! yes it is!!!! but thats not a good thing!!!! its never stated to be a good thing!!!!

this movie is not gonna let you misunderstand the message of the story no matter how blind you try to be to it. paul is not a good guy. hes never been the good guy. hes the protagonist, but hes not the hero. and chani allows that to translate from book to movie very well. have i mentioned yet i love movie chani

chani fills in the holes left behind by the narration and internal monologues of the book and, bonus points, she holds the people who dont understand what dune is about by the hand and tells them explicitly "PAUL IS A BAD GUY!!! DONT IDOLIZE PAUL!!!! DONT WALK AWAY FROM DUNE THINKING ITS PRAISING PAUL'S ACTIONS!!!"

i think thats pretty much all i had to say. i might reblog with additions as they hit me but yeah i. i enjoyed the movie. so so much. i think i might watch it again sometime soon while its still in cinemas.

sorry for being unhinged hope u enjoyed my rants. kiss kiss night night <3

#dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #paul atreides #chani kynes #jessica atreides #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #rabban harkonnen #vladimir harkonnen #stilgar #alia atreides #irulan corrino #im so crazy im so feral holy shit #okay im going to bed now #its 1 am lmao #ive been writing these down for like 2 hours since i got back

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mrsparrasblog · 3 months

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I can treat you better than he can

Summary: You were hopeless in love with your Captain who pushed you away denying his own feelings for you, maybe this time he pushed you in the wrong hands.

Pairing: Keegan x Reader ( Callsign Sunshine)

Words: 2500 I think

A/N: This is a small chapter of my fic Nightmares become true solider(my first fic and the love of my life but its to long for Tumblr so I post stand alone chapters) The fic is written in an I perspective

TW: canon typical violence and swearing, sex, oral sex, fingering, spanking, cumplay, reader is a pervert, Keegan too, Price is an idiot, Reader is unhinged

Defeated, I walked over to the boys, leaving John alone by the bar. Well, he sure will join us later; why shouldn't he? "John doesn't want to join."

"Better for us, old man is always winning," Ghost said. Even in the bar, he wore a mask—not his hardshell mask he wore on missions, but a skull-faced balaclava—making him look like he was about to rob the place.

Confidently, I tried to challenge Ghost, saying that I could surely win a second time. "Maybe Kyle and I will win against you and Soap."

"Not possible."

We played some rounds of pool in which every single round Ghost and Soap won, surprising not only because of Ghost's skills. Soap was the best pool player I had ever seen; he was super focused, and every shot was a hit. After a while of sore losses, we decided to sit down in a booth. The bar was crowded with lots of soldiers and girls who wanted to find themselves a military guy. To be honest, I couldn't judge them. Military men were toxic but so damn attractive.

Even through the crowded space, we could see the Ghost Team sitting in a booth, still with their masks on, and drinking. They didn't seem disappointed in their loss. I saw a lot of similarities between them and us; anyone could easily see that they were more than just a unit—a family like us. Well, maybe like the four boys and me as a distant cousin taking up all the space at a family gathering.

"You sure don't want to drink, lass? Celebrate our win; we are officially the best team on base again."

"I don't want to drink today; we have training tomorrow, and I don't want to throw up on the mat."

"You sound like a mom," Kyle complained, and Ghost almost gagged when he heard this.

"Aye, look, Captain is flirting with a bonnie." As I heard this, I turned around, capturing the scene in front of me. John was sitting at the bar with a woman—worse, a pretty woman who looked like the complete opposite of me—and not just in a different hair type way—in a different figure, appearance, style, hair color, height way—everything about her was different. She looked so stunning; the boys, well, more like Kyle, repeated over and over again how gorgeous that woman was and how the captain normally doesn't pick up girls at the bar—but probably made an exception for her because that woman was stunning.

If I hadn't been so jealous, I probably would have had a panic attack right now. I observed the pair—how she touched his chest, giggling and whispering into his ears—and he looked happier than just happy, delighted, lucky, elated, cheerful, joyful, content, and ecstatic—and every word in this universe to describe his smile. He didn't look repulsed or anything at all. Right now, I feel incredibly stupid. For a blink of a second, I thought that maybe he would like me too. He held me, he comforted me, and God, we almost kissed—but maybe it was just my delusion feeding me with unrealistic dreams for the sake of my hopeless romantic heart. I definitely made him uncomfortable; he was surely disgusted and repulsed by me for how I behaved and how I looked because in no way in heaven did I look like her.

"Captain is a lucky bastard."

"Quiet, Kyle."

I didn't listen to the banter of the boys; the only thing worth my concentration was John and how he laughed with this beautiful woman, and how I desperately wished it was me instead of her. But life wasn't fair, and I was so freaking dumb for believing I had a chance. She sat down on John's lap. Would it be crazy to threaten her to leave him alone? She surely wasn't military-trained, and with her perfectly manicured nails, she would have trouble fighting me, but was it really her fault? She did nothing wrong, and I still wanted to gut that bitch out. Pardon me, I mean woman. As their lips touched each other after moments of anticipation, I almost lost it, but in fact, it strengthened my self-awareness, and finally, I knew all I thought happened between John and me was pure imagination.

I took Ghost's Terrible Bourbon out of his hand and chugged it down as if it were orange juice. Kyle and Soap looked at me as if I had just murdered their grandma, but Ghost had a knowing expression. How did that little shit notice my utterly cringe and embarrassing hopeless crush on the Captain?

"That Bourbon was expensive, Sergeant."

"I'll pay you back," I claimed—I won't—and he knew.

He almost whispered an act of kindness to him to not address it in front of Kyle and Soap, who wouldn't let me hear the end of this. "It will pass."

"What?"

"The feeling."

As I saw John and the pain of my existence making out like teenagers, I had finally enough. John had his fun, fine; I can also have much fun and forget that wixxer. Without responding to Ghost or entertaining Soap and Kyle's curious expressions and Kyle's question if I got my period, I left the table, walking straight to the table with the American mask boys. I will definitely regret this tomorrow, but tonight I don't care.

"Keegan, right? Come with me."

"Doll, do you really want to be a sore winner and rub your win under my nose?"

"I thought more of a consolation prize or how you say these things in English."

"Are you not a native English speaker?"

"And there I thought my accent was a dead giveaway."

"You're annoying, kid; did someone ever tell you this?"

"Ghost constantly."

"He is a dick."

"I'd second that."

"So tell me the real reason you're requesting my presence. Don't get me wrong, Doll. I won't mind, but I want to know why I have this luck."

"Nothing, just a girl in a bar speaking with a man in a bar."

"And there I thought, after you jumped into Price's arms today, you would be his partner."

"No."

"Liar."

"Did no one teach you how to flirt, Keegan?" I scoffed.

"Doll, I know how to sweep you off your tiny feet but tell me first, am I a rebounder?"

"Yes."

"Well, we can work with that," he grinned as he flicked his cigarette away, now completely focusing on me. "It must hurt seeing him like that at the bar."

"Like hell."

"Merrick was right. Price is an idiot and a goddamn fool. He's got a dime piece right here, and he's chasing after...that!?" He gestured over to that incredible woman.

"I wouldn't describe myself as a dime piece, Keegan."

Keegan leaned closer to me. His voice is now soft and low instead of his usual hoarse voice. "I would absolutely beg to differ. You're a goddess, and he's a complete moron if he doesn't realize that. Why do you even like this guy?"

I rolled my eyes at his hyperbel. "Well, isn't it obvious? He is tall, strong, and masculinely good-looking, but that is only his appearance. He is smart and funny; I would without a doubt rely my life on him." I noticed John's glance at me. Why? It's not like Keegan was the real enemy.

"I'd just like to point out that so am I, and I've got something he doesn't." Keegan laughed, and his laugh was magnetic. I would lie if I said he wasn't attractive, so would this be so wrong?

I'm single and young, so fuck off, John. "Tell me what you have and what he doesn't."

His expression turns to one of pure confidence and pride. "I've got class, doll. This 'captain' of yours is off there in this nasty bar, out with a random chick, eating her face at the bar for all to see. And I'm here, paying attention to you—only to you."

"Oh, so you're a high and mighty soldier with class and only pure intentions towards me?" I chuckled as I realized I was really bad at flirting, mostly because I only relied on my good looks. And here I am constantly insulting men I am interested in.

"Only the purest intentions towards you, and I got something else that he doesn't, doll."

"If you say big dick, I'm going to cringe."

He laughed, not even insulted by my comment. "As much as I'd love to, no. No, that wasn't what I was going to say. But I'm glad that's where your mind goes first."

"Well, then we are on the same page. But I think that's the problem with me. I think like a whore, and of course, he wouldn't like me. I'm just the type for fun, you know."

"Who told you that bullshit?"

"My ex."

"Bastard, come on, doll, let me show you a great time. Forget about that stupid captain of yours."

"Maybe I should."

He lowers his voice even further while his eyes meet mine, not afraid of eye contact. "I think he's intimidated by you. I mean, look at you. Smart, beautiful, and strong—you kicked all our arses today like we were toys, and Price knows that; he has no shot with you, and instead of taking a chance, he's hiding behind another girl."

His big hands started to caress my hair, tightly gripping it in an act of dominance. He wasn't afraid of showing me that he wanted me.

"Well, that other girl is hot."

"She might be hot, but she's also clearly not you. She's just someone he can control—someone who will do whatever he wants. Just a mere civilian girl with a boring life—but you're a different story. I already know how strong you can be and how much you like to do things your own way. And that's part of what makes you so irresistible—you're more than just a pretty face; you're a great soldier too."

Fuck it. I pulled him to my height, removing his mask enough so his full lips were finally free. He had a sharp jawline and stubbles that almost tickled against my skin as I finally planted my lips on his, desperate to kiss him and feel desired. He wasn't expecting my sudden kiss and his breath hitched for a moment, his hands tightening in my hair, keeping me so close. I could feel his lips curving into a slight smile, his eyes fluttering shut as his body froze, a low masculine groan escaping his mouth as he pressed his rock-hard body against mine. His hands started to roam over my body until they found my ass, squeezing it firmly and pulling me up in his arms to close even more distance.

John's POV

"Soldiers always had a different kind of appeal to me." If she tells me one more time how she fetishizes soldiers and how she always dreamt of marrying one and being a stay-at-home mom while her husband would be on dangerous deployments, I'd gladly off myself. It wasn't wrong to want to be a stay-at-home mom; John's mom was one too, and she did way more than his old man gave her credit for, but he always hated women who only cared about his status in the military and the benefits it came with. Well, at least she was pretty.

"Do you even listen, Johnny?" Johnny, really?

"Yes, of course, sweetheart." She always blushed when he called her sweetheart, and he felt incredibly terrible for only calling her that because he couldn't, for the love of God, remember her correct name: Sarah, or Sandra; certainly not Sunshine. John thought he could erase Sunshine completely from his brain by making out with that woman. He was wrong— it only made him long for her even more. For heaven's sake. He could lie to himself and say it was that woman's fault, but she was pretty and even a bit smart—she just wasn't Sunshine, and that frustrated him. He didn't even get a physical reaction out of that woman— even his dick betrayed him.

"Oh, God, John, that woman is completely embarrassing," she gestured at something, and when John turned around, he could see it. It was his woman in the arms of that tosser, exactly like he held her today, only that they were making out. Disgusting—deep inside, he knew he couldn't judge her. He was making out with a random woman in the bar just so he could forget her, but still, his stomach built a knot that twisted him like the time he got stabbed near his kidney in Afghanistan. He would never admit that he was jealous—jealousy was something for weak people. He never felt this way before, and he won't start now.

It clearly only bothered him because he was one of Merrick's fellow guys; he'd probably only flirted with her because of the rivalry. And as the good captain he was, he needed to stop that, right? So his woman—uhm, his sergeant—wouldn't get hurt and be unconcentrated in missions.

Sunshine was now sitting on Keegan's lap as he whispered things in her ear that made her sweet cheeks rise with a beautiful color. John couldn't stand this sight anymore; his knuckles turned white from the tight fist he made. He didn't even listen to the woman whom he tried to lay tonight, and as Keegan walked towards the loo, he saw his chance to act like the proper captain he was, and he went after him.

"You deserve better than me, sweetheart, someone who is emotionally available." He didn't let her form her words in protest; he only put $50 down on the table and left in the direction of the loo. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was used to being intimidating, and he sure as hell would intimidate that little Sergeant of Merrick. He leaned against the door frame, not saying a word at first, waiting till he noticed him. Right now, he felt strong; it had something powerfull seeing his enemy with his dick out pissing—John was fully clothed, stoic, and strong while Keegan was exposed and vulnerable. John tried to hide his smirk as he saw how he was thicker than him down there—way more for his Sun to enjoy—concentrate on the task, John.

"Sergeant Russ," he said with his hoarse voice.

"Price, what do you want?" he practically spat out.

"Touch her again, and I'll make sure that you won't be able to touch anything else." He saw the look of fear in Keegan's eyes. Of course, he was a strong soldier, but Keegan wasn't a fool and knew that Price was a real threat.

But then he tested John's patience by saying something foolish like "jealous that you won't be the one to make her scream in pleasure tonight." John saw red, his fists held close to his body, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to beat that shit out of that bastard, but being violent isn't what makes the other scared; it's his calmness and the fact that if he loses it, it's over.

"Care to repeat that, Russ?"

"I'm going to touch her the whole night, and you guided her into my arms like an idiot." He didn't understand what he meant by him being at fault for Sun's interest in Russ, but never in his life dared someone to call him an idiot.

"I'll give you one last chance, leave her alone."

"Or what, you kill me?" he scoffed and laughed.

"Maybe I will," he said with a low growl that signaled Keegan that he wasn't joking.

Both fell into silence as Soap and Ghost stumbled out of one of the cabins. They clearly fucked again; he would have said something about not sleeping around in the military, but he wasn't such a hypocrite.

Soap interfered in the situation, "Aye, calm down, Captain; he isn't worth the stain." Why did they both need to interfere? He couldn't threaten Russ properly without giving the suggestion that he was more than just a caring captain for his Sun.

Keegan rolled his eyes, "Whatever, I'm going to fuck your little sunshine now." Before John could react, Keegan already had a fist in his face.

Surprisingly, not from John himself but from Ghost, the reserved man who seemed to hate Sunshine with all his heart. Was he perhaps interested in his Sun? No, never. Ghost was head over heels for Soap, even if he would never admit that. But why the sudden act? Keegan left the loo with a bloody lip.

"You fucked up, John."

"I know, Simon."

Soap and Ghost left the bathroom shortly after, and John could hear the arguing, something about Soap being jealous and thinking Ghost wanted Sunshine, and Ghost replying that Soap was fucking delusional and should know his place. If he hadn't been entrenched in his own hell of drama, he would have talked to Simon. Fucking hell that evening was fucked up.

As he left the bathroom, going to the booth of his boys, he noticed how Soap and Ghost were silent, Soap's glance almost burning in rage. Sunshine was dancing with Keegan while he groped her precious ass. John sat miserably with his own scotch, but at least Gaz was happy drinking his beer and ranting about something.

After a while, he saw Keegan pull Sun over his shoulder, and they went straight out of the bar, with her being a tipsy and giggling mess. "What a show-off," he scoffed.

"How funny that Sunny is the only one getting action tonight," Kyle looked confused as every man at the table shot him a death glare. For heaven's sake, that evening was cursed, and in all vulnerability, John hoped that this was just a one-night thing for her.

Sunshine's POV

He threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the bar. As we walked towards his room in the base, I could already feel my arousal approaching. It took forever since we stopped always to make out.

You could say a lot about him; he is arrogant, narcissistic, and a bit crazy, but he's a damn good kisser. We reached his barrack, it was as simple as hers just that his wasn't a single. She hoped desperately that his roommate didn't bulge in.

He pressed me against the door frame as their kiss deepened, Keegan's hand slipped under my shirt tracing soft circles on my back. His other hand slides gently around my hair pulling it towards him as a show of his dominance.

I couldn't hold back and moaned into his kiss. "Fuck it." I ripped his shirt off him ogling over his muscular frame. He was toned his pecks were perfectly sculpted, every woman would kill for that sight but I thought about John - stop it, forget John, think about Keegan.

Keegan smirked as I ripped off his shirt, his hands slowly exploring every inch of my clothed body. His touch was rough and possessive like he desperately needed me. He released a loud groan as I started to trace down his abs and prominent V line. I pulled off my shirt and bra and threw it in the corner. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of my breasts. His rough hand cupped them and his calloused fingers from his work in the military brushed across my hardened nipples. "Fuck," he breathed out his lips finding mine again in a hungry kiss. His erected dick already pressing against my stomach.

"Please Keegan, I need you." I pleaded, Keegan broke our kiss, his lips trailing down my neck and collarbone, his teeth graze my skin lightly as he nipped at my shoulder- Oh he is a biter. His hand squeezed my breasts again before he started to undo his pants. His hardened dick sprung out of his boxers, his pink tip already glistered with pre cum. He wasn't very thick but the length was impressive and he was circumcised. I licked my lips in anticipation. "Shit you're big." Keegan only chuckled darkly at my words. "I'll show you how big." He growls his hands moving to grip my hips firmly as he ripped off my thong revealing my already wet folds.

"Hey, I liked that one."

"I buy you a new one."

His finger dips into my moisture before teasing my throbbing entrance. "You're already so ready for me," he murmurs.

"Keegan please stop teasing me."

Keegan's other hand slipped down to play with my clit. His thumb circling gently the sensitive knot. With one swift movement, he pushes his thick fingers deep inside of me. He groaned in pleasure at the tightness that surrounded him. "Fuck you feel so good- around my finger."

He pushed his fingers lazily against my G spot and started to scisor them inside, he looked determined at my face to learn which movement kept me going. I felt the knot in my stomach building up letting me almost explode. His lips trailed down my neck sucking on my nipples while he continued to abuse my clit.

"Cum on me Doll."

I came hard spasming around his thick fingers and coating them with my juices. Keegan's cock throbbed in anticipation as he watched me cum around his fingers. He pulls his hand away, relishing the sight of my wetness. "That's it, baby girl."

"Let me take care of you Keegan." I let myself fall on my knees and slowly started to stroak his dick and lick the pre cum of his swollen tip. Keegan groans deeply, as I take his cock into my mouth, his hips jerking automatically forward. He grips my hair trying to maintain his control. "Fuck Doll."

I bobbed my head up and down while playing with his balls with one of my free hands. He pushes his cock deeper inside of me but he should know that I'm the one in control. I bite softly on his tip to make him crazy. His lips escaped moans - loud moans. His cock throbbed in anticipation leaving stains of pre cum on my tongue. "Fuck Doll, that feels good don't stop."

I began to deep throat him almost gaging because of his length, my eyes began to tear, I tried to maintain eye contact. Keegan's grip on my hair tightens his knuckles turning white. His hips jerk forward, pushing only deeper into my throat. "You're so fucking good at that, I cant last longer." I press my plump lips together tightening the friction around his member.

As he feels him getting close he pulls my head back away. "Not quite yet Doll," he growls his voice stained with the effort to hold back his orgasm. I started to laugh and ignored his attempts to last longer I moved my head faster. "Fuck you're going to make me cum." I moaned in agreement - my voice only sending vibrations down his dick.

Keegan grunts loudly. His entire body tensing up as he loses control and erupts deep inside my throat. His cock twitches repeatedly, sending wave after wave of hot cum down my throat, I swallow every sip of his cum and finally hold my tongue out showing him my empty mouth. Keegan stared down at me in shock, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. His muscular thigh trembles as he tries to hold his composure. He gently traces down my jawline. "Fuck you're mine Doll" - I was definitely not his.

Keegan lifted me and threw me on the bed as he spread my legs wide, positioning himself between my legs - his cock already hardening again. He looks down at me with a predatory grin, then lowers himself onto my waiting sex and pushes inside me with one powerful trust making me scream in pleasure and pain at the same time.

He begins thrusting into me, hard and fast. The bed cracks under our combined weight as he takes me roughly. His muscular arms flex with each stroke.

"Keegan, it feels so good."

"Doll," he groans his voice hoarse with lust, "you're so fucking tight I can barely hold back."

"Don't hold back, Keegan. Fuck me."

He grins. "You like it rough doll?" I nodded and with a swift move, he flips me over onto my stomach and pulls my ass up, with brutal precision and starts a relentless pace as he fucks me from behind. His large hand gripped me tightly leaving marks on my body. "This is what you want isn't it?"

I start to clench around him, only getting more aroused at his words. "Oh you're so wet," he murmurs, moving one hand between my legs to stroke my neglected clit. The added sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body causing me to arch my back and cry out his name.

"That's it, Doll, take it all."

"I'm close - please, Keegan," I pleaded to him to finally release me.

"Cum for me Doll," he growls picking up the pace even more. His cock slams into me over and over again, each thrust sending a vibration through my core as he pinched my clit hard. I started to cry out of pleasure and finally came spasming around his dick - coating him with all my juices. Keegan held me firm supporting my body weight as he let me ride out my orgasm while starting to kiss me all over my body and leaving marks everywhere.

After my orgasm, he guided me on top of him and I started to ride him as his hands roam over my body, griping my hips tightly again. His eyes followed the movements of my breasts, his mouth watering at the sight. He pulled me forcefully tight onto his shaft brushing against my cervix so I would start to see stars, his hand now pressed against the familiar bulge inside my womb.

Keegan started to rub my overstimulated clit again as he finally chased after his release, with each thrust his hips slams powerful against me, he became slowly sloppy and uncontrolable begging me to finally release him.

I clenched tight around his dick, his eyes rolled back inside his skull. With a groan that echoes through the room, Keegan's hot seed erupts inside of me, filling me up completely. His cockhead twitches as he emptied himself inside of me- pushing his cum deeper into my hole.

"Fuck." He collapsed on top of me, our bodies still entwined, Keegan pressed his face into the crook of my neck inhaling my scent. "What the fuck was that, no women made me cum like that before."

"Well, I'm pretty skilled at these things."

"You're fucking amazing Doll." He slowly pulled his softening dick out of me watching his seeds drip down from my cunt into his mattress.

"As much as I like to see you coated in my cum, let me clean you up."

"Oh, what a gentleman."

"It's the least I can do after you gave me the best orgasm of my life."

"Oh was it?"

"Don't lie to me it was fucking amazing for you too."

"A close third place Keegan." I grinned.

"Don't challenge me Doll."

"Or what?"

"You will regret this."

"Why?"

"You like Price even tho I don't know why."

"And Price doesn't like me, so I can have all my fun while he has his with that other woman."

"His loss is my win."

He cuddled against me after he cleaned his seed from my thighs but as he fell asleep snoring the only thought in my brain was John.

I'm screwed.

#cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #tf 141 #call of duty #john price #captain john price #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #cod ghosts #cod hesh #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #price x you #price x reader #price x y/n

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autumnmobile12 · 9 months

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My Hero Academia AU: Ambush Simulation

Aight, storytime:

So awhile back, I was thinking about Episodes 4 & 5 of the anime Soul Eater where the gang is tasked with capturing two villains, the zombie Sid and the guy who resurrected him, Professor Stein. (There’s also the added stakes that if they fail in this task, they’ll be expelled from school.) After a somewhat harrowing fight, defeating Sid and losing to Stein, the plot twist is this was never a real fight, Stein and Sid were not villains, and this whole thing was just a test that was orchestrated and sanctioned by the school and definitely skewed more toward hazing than actual education.

And I thought, what if that’s all the Vanguard Action Squad was during the Summer Camp Arc? Just a test orchestrated by UA that skewed more toward hazing than actual education. (Note: These are the traditional LoV members, so Muscular, Mustard, and Moonfish are not part of this line-up.) At the very least, that would probably be the meanest ruse Aizawa has pulled. And you can't tell me Principal Nezu wouldn't have been all in for this plan.

"It happened once at the USJ. Despite our precautions, it could happen again. Let's teach them how to prepare...by scaring the absolute shit out of them."

"Ambush Simulation" is playing off my earlier AU comic with Shigaraki being the adopted nephew of All Might and leading a pretty normal life. The rest of the squad is more or less in the same boat. For context, Touya’s canon divergence is he returned home after the three-year comatose and actually stayed there, but since nothing about that household environment really changed, he’s still an unhinged mess, but that is a whole other kettle of fish best saved for another comic. (Clearly getting a kick out of the prospect of scaring a bunch of kids, including his brother, half to death, though.) Toga’s home life is rocky at best after ‘the incident,’ but she’s no longer a runaway teen. Everybody else just kinda fell in with each other.

Their role as a vigilante team was inspired by the series Durarara!, specifically Kadota and his crew for anyone who's familiar. I genuinely forgot the Vigilantes spinoff existed...sigh, it's been awhile and I only recently got back in this fandom. The Vanguard is pretty much living by a 'you're only in trouble if you get caught,' philosophy. (And the nepotism has probably saved all their asses a few times because it doesn't look good for the No. 2 Hero if his eldest son is busted for vigilantism.)

Anyway, there's a few other details that I can't fit in this post, so head over here if you want to read more behind the scenes of making this thing.

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trippinsorrows · 1 month

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looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand.

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently.

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have.

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft.

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?”

Solana nods. “That!”

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him.

If anything, it just makes it stronger.

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life.

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time.

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality.

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear.

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger.

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her.

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.”

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her.

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action.

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit.

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better.

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife.

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.”

He turns away, watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly.

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives.

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for.

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No.

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace!

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated.

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful.

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true.

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction.

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell.

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?”

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.”

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?”

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort.

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.”

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth.

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!”

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!”

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!”

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place.

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.”

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens.

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?”

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself.

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind.

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that.

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck.

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting.

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.”

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again.

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on.

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes.

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity.

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not?

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night.

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed.

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her.

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no.

To have that autonomy.

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest.

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe.

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her.

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.”

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest.

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit.

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly.

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other.

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her.

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.” He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth.

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity.

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.”

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers. “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost.

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax.

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.”

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch.

“I’m gonna be your first.”

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her.

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him.

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction.

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate.

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating.

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word.

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….”

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him.

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook #black writers

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yandere-sins · 5 months

Note

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days.

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice.

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle.

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words.

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all.

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind.

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it.

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears.

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it.

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity?

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world.

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though.

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal.

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted.

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here.

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy.

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader

Part III

Part One | Part Two | Final Words: 11.1K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence, Action (Fighting Scenes: Steve vs Bucky), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Emotionally heavy? Death. Sneak Peak: Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you turned back to the window. “I’ve got people waiting for us at my father’s old place. People who want to rebel. But if Stark’s right… if there’s something inside me that they can still control…”

A/N: This was difficult to write man, I feel like i keep repeating myself. Anyways this short story is almost done, I'm thinking to make one for bucky in this same timeline, but i dunno.

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

SHIELD agents moved about the Helicarrier, carrying out their usual duties. The tension from your recent capture still lingered in the air, but for the moment, everything seemed normal.

Inside one of the briefing rooms, the Avengers gathered around a large, circular table. The holographic display in the center flickered to life. Steve stood at the far end, his expression remaining grim. He had been silent since his conversation with you, apart from when he told Fury about the new information about you.

Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, his one good eye sweeping over the assembled team. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention as the screen behind him shifted to show a detailed molecular structure—one that looked alien yet familiar.

“This,” Fury began, pointing to the hologram, “is the Lazarus Serum. It was an experimental project conducted by a rogue HYDRA scientist during World War II. What makes this serum different from the Super Soldier Serum is that it’s derived from an unknown foreign DNA, not of earth.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Tony’s brow furrowed in thought, while Natasha leaned forward, her eyes narrowing at the image on the screen.

“So an Alien DNA?” Natasha echoed, disbelief evident in her voice. “How did HYDRA even get their hands on something like that?”

Fury’s expression darkened. “During the war, HYDRA had their hands in more than just earthly affairs. There were rumors that they made contact with otherworldly entities, collecting samples and conducting experiments. Most of these were failures or too dangerous to continue, but the Lazarus Serum was different. It worked, but with a catch. It enhanced the subject’s strength, speed, and durability—just like the Super Soldier Serum—but the side effects were severe: mental instability, increased aggression. . .making them unhinged.”

“And Y/N?” Steve’s voice was low, but it carried a weight that made everyone turn toward him.

“She’s the only known survivor of the Lazarus project,” Fury confirmed. “And because the serum is derived from Alien DNA, its effects are permanent. Y/N is more than just enhanced—she’s on a whole other level. The serum doesn’t just slow aging; it effectively makes her immune to most forms of injury. We’ve seen that she can take bullets without flinching, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

Fury opened up a highly confidential video file named, ‘Lazarus Serum’ and instantly piqued the team's curiosity.

As the holographic footage played, the room fell into a tense silence. The screen displayed a black-and-white, grainy video of a sterile HYDRA laboratory, dimly lit and cold, with the camera focusing on you, strapped to a metal table. The tension among the Avengers was palpable as they watched, the atmosphere heavy with the gravity of what they were about to witness.

You lay on the table, your body weak and trembling. The serum coursing through your veins was taking its final toll, pushing you to the brink of death. Your skin was pale, your breaths shallow, and your heartbeat was erratic, the monitors showing your vitals dipping dangerously low.

Fury’s voice cut through the footage, steady but grim. “This is what our talented hackers are able to salvage, the final recorded moment of the Lazarus Serum experiment. Day 100.”

On the screen, the lead scientist stood over you, his expression hard as he observed the monitors. Despite the clear signs that you were dying, he was refusing to back down. The technician beside him looked increasingly anxious, glancing between the monitors and your convulsing body.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," the technician warned, his voice shaking. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The scientist’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, silencing any further protest.

The technician hesitated but ultimately complied, injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The screen showed your body convulsing violently on the table, the restraints biting into your skin as your body tried to fight the unbearable pain. The lines on the monitors went haywire, your heart rate spiking uncontrollably before it suddenly flatlined.

Steve couldn’t bear to watch any longer. The sight of you, broken and tortured. His heart clenched with a pain so intense it might as well be a heart attack. It was clear that every second of this footage was torture for him, he tried to keep watching but turned his head away, unable to watch life being drained from you. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over. He couldn’t bring himself to see the moment you died, the moment HYDRA took everything from you.

Fury paused the footage briefly, his gaze sweeping over the team. “At this point, HYDRA pronounced her dead. The lead scientist, as you can hear, said to ‘Dispose of the body.’ They believed the experiment was a failure, and that Y/N had died.”

The footage resumed, showing the scientist’s callous order to dispose of your body. The camera caught the technician’s expression—a mix of shock and fear—as he moved to unstrap your lifeless form from the table. The filming stops and the screens go black.

“We can only guess what happened next,” Fury’s voice echoed through the room. “This is why it’s called the Lazarus Serum. Like the Lazarus of myth, it brought her back to life. The woman you knew, Steve, died on that table. What came back was something else.”

“Excuse me.” Steve quietly excused himself from the room, his thoughts too heavy to focus on a strategy. He needed a moment alone, to process what he had just seen, and to prepare himself for the fight of his life.

Tony, who had been deep in thought, glanced up just in time to see Steve slipping out of the door. Something about the way Steve moved—so rigid, so controlled—set off alarm bells in Tony’s mind.

“Hey, Cap—” Tony called after him, but Steve didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn his head. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he watched Steve go. He knew that look, the one where Steve was bottling everything up inside, pretending he was fine when he was anything but.

× × × ×

Steve barely made it to his quarters before the dam broke. The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss, sealing him in the solitude he so desperately needed. For a moment, he stood there, his back against the door, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fought to maintain control.

But the weight of everything he had just seen and heard—the memories, the footage of your death, the knowledge that you had suffered because of him—crushed down on him with a force that made his knees buckle. He stumbled forward, his vision blurring with unshed tears.

With a choked sob, Steve lashed out, his fist slamming into the nearest object—his desk. The wood splintered under the force of the blow, but the pain in his knuckles barely registered. He hit it again, and again, each impact sending shockwaves up his arm, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

He threw a chair, shattered a picture frame, and ripped the curtains from the window, the fabric tearing with a violent snap. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through the crushing weight of his emotions.

The door to his room suddenly opened, and Tony Stark stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he took in the sight of Steve in the midst of his rampage. Steve didn’t notice him at first, too lost in his own agony to register anything beyond the need to destroy, to somehow externalize the pain that was tearing him apart from the inside.

“Steve!” Tony’s voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. But Steve didn’t stop. He grabbed the closest thing within reach—a lamp—and hurled it across the room, the glass shattering as it struck the wall.

“Steve!” Tony shouted again, moving quickly to grab Steve’s arm as he reached for another object. Steve yanked his arm away, his eyes wild and unfocused, his chest heaving as he glared at Tony.

“Get out!” Steve’s voice was raw, torn from the depths of his soul. But Tony didn’t back down. Instead, he reached out again, this time catching Steve’s wrist in a firm grip.

“Steve, stop!” Tony’s voice was filled with a mixture of urgency and compassion as he tightened his hold. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Steve struggled but held back in Tony’s grip, his knuckles already bleeding from the impacts against the wooden furniture. But Tony didn’t let go. He could see the pain in Steve’s eyes, the anguish that was tearing him apart, and he knew he couldn’t just leave him like this.

“Damn it, Rogers, look at me!” Tony’s voice cracked with emotion as he forced Steve to meet his gaze. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

For a moment, Steve’s rage faltered, his eyes locking with Tony’s. The room fell into silence, the only sound the ragged breathing of the two men standing in the midst of the wreckage. And then, as if the fight had been drained out of him, Steve collapsed to his knees, his body trembling with the force of his sobs.

“I did this,” Steve gasped, his voice choking with emotion. “All of this.”

Tony knelt beside him, his heart aching at the sight of his friend so completely broken. He pulled Steve into a tight embrace, holding him as Steve’s walls crumbled completely.

Steve fought against it at first, his body stiffening as if trying to hold onto the last shreds of his composure, but eventually, he couldn’t resist. He rested his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, his sobs coming harder and faster, his breath hitching in his throat.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Tony whispered, his own voice thick with emotion as he acted as Steve’s rock.

“I failed,” Steve cried, his voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder. “I left her when she needed me the most. How can I ever make that right?”

“Damn it,” Tony mumbled, tightened his grip, his own throat constricting as he tried to hold back his own tears, “HYDRA did this, not you. There is always a way.”

× × × ×

Tony entered the cell, his expression devoid of the usual levity. He took a moment to observe you, noticing the way your eyes followed his every move, calculating, waiting.

"Back so soon, Stark?" You broke the silence, your voice a smooth mixture of mockery and disinterest. "Did you miss me?"

Tony didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, folding his hands in front of him. He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unflinching.

"I think you and I both know there's more to this Lazarus Serum than you're letting on," Tony began, his tone conversational but with an edge of steel beneath it.

“I see Rogers didn't waste any time, after knowing about my serum,” you chuckled and raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "Is this the part where you try to psychoanalyze me? Try to figure out what makes me tick?"

"Oh, I don't need to figure out what makes you tick. I already know. You’re angry, bitter, and probably more than a little scared. Not that you’d ever admit it." Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, the first crack in your carefully maintained facade. "You don’t know anything about me."

"Don’t I?" Tony replied smoothly, his voice taking on a tone of calculated sympathy. "You were Steve’s girl, right? The one who got left behind, forgotten. You were just a kid when HYDRA took you, and they twisted you into something… else. You’re not angry because of what they did to you. You’re angry because the people who were supposed to care about you—people like Steve—didn’t save you."

Your hands clenched into fists at Tony’s words, the knuckles turning white. "You think you’re clever, now huh? You think you can come in here and play mind games with me?"

Tony leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "I’m not playing games. I just want to understand what’s going on here. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever as simple as it seems. You hate Steve, sure. You hate me, too, probably. But I’m betting there’s a part of you that hates HYDRA even more. So why don’t you tell me what they really did to you? What’s the catch with this Lazarus Serum? What are they not telling you?”

You held Tony's gaze, the flicker of something darker passing through your eyes. But you kept your expression as neutral as you could. "You think I’m just going to spill my secrets to you? You’re more naive than I thought."

Tony smirked, leaning back again, feigning a relaxed demeanor. "Oh, I don't expect you to spill everything. Not right away. But I’m pretty good at reading between the lines. And right now, you’re giving off a lot of signals, sweetheart."

The nickname was meant to annoy you, but you didn’t react, keeping your face impassive. Instead, you decided to toy with him a bit. "You really think you’re different from the rest of them, don’t you? Just because you’re a genius in a tin suit? HYDRA, SHIELD, you—they’re all the same. You all think you’re the smartest one in the room. But you’re all playing the same game. You’re all just cogs in the same machine."

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. "That’s a nice speech. But I’ve been in your shoes, remember? Taken apart, piece by piece, rebuilt by people who didn’t give a damn about what they were doing to me. So why don’t we cut the crap? What did HYDRA really do to you?"

You leaned forward, matching his intensity. "They made me better. Stronger. Faster. Everything your buddy Rogers has, and then some. But you already know that. What you really want to know is how to stop it."

Tony tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "So it’s true then? There’s no off-switch? No failsafe? You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you?"

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you almost let it slip. Almost. But you caught yourself, settling back in your chair with a cold smile. "Nice try. But you’re not as clever as you think you are."

Tony’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes hardened. "You’re right. I’m not trying to be clever. I’m trying to help you. You think you’re untouchable now, but the truth is, HYDRA doesn’t make anything without a leash. You’re telling me there’s no failsafe? No way to control you if you step out of line?"

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was all Tony needed. "See? That, right there. You hesitated. There’s something you’re not telling me. Something even you don’t know."

You clenched your jaw, the silence between you thickening. Tony was getting under your skin, and he knew it. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you’re free? You’re just as much a prisoner as you were when they first strapped you to that table. And deep down, you know it."

"You think you can manipulate me with your cheap psychology tricks? I’ve had experts try to break me, Stark. You’re not even in the same league."

Tony’s expression remained unfazed. "I don’t need to break you. I just need to understand. Because if you think for one second that I’m going to let HYDRA have their way with you—or with anyone else—you’re sorely mistaken."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Tony Stark was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. And he was right about one thing: HYDRA didn’t make anything without a failsafe. But what did that mean for you? Did you even want to know?

Tony watched the conflict play out on your face, and he decided to push just a little bit harder. "You can keep pretending that you’re in control, that you’re the one calling the shots. But at the end of the day, you’re just another one of HYDRA’s experiments. And when they’re done with you, they’ll toss you aside like garbage."

Your hands trembled slightly, the anger boiling just beneath the surface. "Shut up, Stark."

He leaned back, satisfied that he had struck a nerve. "We’ll talk again when you’re ready to stop lying to yourself. And trust me, you will."

As Tony stood up to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. The idea that HYDRA could still have control over you, that there was something they hadn’t told you—it gnawed at you. But you couldn’t let him see that. You couldn’t let him win.

Just before Tony reached the door, you spoke again, your voice cold and distant. "You think you know everything now. But it's only the tip of a needle."

Tony paused, turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. "Then enlighten me."

But you didn’t say another word. You simply stared at him, your eyes burning with a mixture of anger and fear. Tony shook his head slightly, a hint of disappointment in his expression before walking out and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, those thoughts weren’t comforting.

× × × ×

Your eyes snapped open. The blaring sound reverberated through the metal structure of the Helicarrier, signaling chaos above. A slow, cold smile spread across your lips, a glimmer of dark satisfaction in your eyes.

Leaning back against the wall, you tilted your head slightly, listening to the escalating panic beyond the cell door. The symphony of chaos was almost... delightful.

“Finally,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the din.

The lights flickered, the warning sirens growing louder and more insistent as SHIELD agents scrambled to their stations. The Avengers, who had been spread out across the ship, immediately converged in the command center, each of them on high alert.

"What now?" Tony muttered, his face twisting into a frown as he glanced at the flashing red lights.

Fury's voice boomed over the intercom. "We've got hostiles onboard. This isn't a drill—The Winter Soldier and a squad of HYDRA operatives just breached the perimeter."

Steve's heart plummeted. He had just started to gather himself after the emotional breakdown of learning about your past and his rage-fueled outburst. Now, hearing about Bucky’s presence, he felt a fresh surge of desperation. He had to stop him from reaching you.

As they ran through the Helicarrier's corridors, the sounds of battle grew louder. Gunfire echoed off the metal walls, and the smell of smoke and burning electronics filled the air.

The Helicarrier shook as explosions ripped through the structure, sending sparks and chunks of metal cascading through the corridors.

Alarms blared, drowning out the shouts of SHIELD agents and the staccato of gunfire. The team raced through the chaos, dodging falling debris and returning fire at HYDRA agents who revealed themselves.

Natasha sprinted ahead, her movements fluid as she flipped over a barrage of bullets, landing gracefully before taking out two HYDRA agents with precise shots to their heads. She quickly ducked behind cover, reloading her pistols, eyes scanning for the next threat. Clint, perched in a higher vantage point, loosed arrows with deadly accuracy, each one finding its mark in the chest or throat of a HYDRA agent.

“We’ve got to cut them off before they reach Y/N!” Steve shouted through the comms, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Tony took to the air, his repulsors humming as he blasted through a wall to create a shortcut.

“On it!” he called out, targeting a group of HYDRA agents laying down suppressive fire from a balcony. His repulsors lit up the darkened corridor as he unleashed a barrage of energy beams, reducing the balcony—and the agents on it—to rubble.

Meanwhile, Steve charged forward, his shield a blur of motion as he deflected bullets and took down any HYDRA operatives in his path. He was relentless, driven by the singular focus of reaching you before it was too late. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion of battle, but from the gnawing fear of what would happen if Bucky succeeded.

Ahead of him, the Winter Soldier, was a force of nature. He moved with deadly precision, his metal arm crushing through walls and doors as if they were paper. With every obstacle he encountered, he either barreled through or dismantled it.

A squad of SHIELD agents attempted to block his path, but they were no match for his ruthlessness. Bucky dispatched them brutally, his expression unchanging as he advanced toward the detention level.

Steve caught sight of Bucky just as he took out the last of the SHIELD agents guarding the entrance to your cell.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve shouted, his voice carrying through the smoke-filled corridor.

Bucky turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Steve. There was a flicker of recognition, but it was quickly buried beneath the cold, mechanical focus of the Winter Soldier. Without a word, Bucky charged at Steve, their collision echoing through the Helicarrier like a thunderclap. The force of their impact sent shockwaves through the surrounding walls, cracking the metal and sending a rain of sparks from the overhead lights.

The fight was immediate and brutal, each man fighting with a desperate intensity that went beyond the mission. Steve knew he had to stop Bucky, not just to protect you, but to save the man who had once been his best friend. But Bucky was relentless, his movements precise and deadly, every strike aimed to incapacitate or kill.

Steve blocked a powerful punch from Bucky’s metal arm with his shield, the impact reverberating up his arm and nearly knocking him off balance. He retaliated with a swift kick to Bucky’s midsection, but Bucky barely flinched, grabbing Steve by the arm and slamming him against the wall with enough force to dent the metal.

“You don’t have to do this!” Steve shouted, ducking under a wild swing from Bucky’s left fist. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

“Shut up!” Bucky growled, his voice low and dangerous as he swung his metal arm at Steve with murderous intent. “I don’t want to hear it!”

But Steve wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. “You’re Bucky! You joined the 107th Infantry, you fought in the war, you saved my life more times than I can count!”

“Shut up!” Bucky roared, slamming Steve into the wall again, the force of the impact cracking the metal. “Shut up!”

But Steve pressed on, his voice cracking with desperation. “You’re a brother to me, Bucky! We went through hell together! You’re not this—this weapon HYDRA made you into! You’re James Buchanan Barnes!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with something dark and twisted as he Bucky’s grip tightened around Steve’s throat, the rage in his eyes burning brighter with each word Steve spoke. “I told you to shut up!”

But Steve, despite the choking pressure on his windpipe, forced the words out. “You’re... Bucky... you’re... my brother...”

With a snarl, Bucky shoved Steve back, releasing his grip only to drive a brutal punch into Steve’s midsection. Steve doubled over, gasping for air, but even as he staggered, he refused to give up.

“Remember... who you are, who I am,” Steve rasped, clutching at his ribs as he straightened up.

"I don't care to remember who you are but I do remember this. . .��

Steve’s heart surged with a flicker of hope, but it was quickly dashed as Bucky continued, his tone dripping with malice. “I remember the way she used to scream for me, the way she begged because someone couldn't satisfy her.”

Steve saw red.

Steve launched himself at Bucky, his fists flying with a ferocity he hadn’t unleashed in years. All the restraint, all the control he usually maintained, evaporated in the face of Bucky’s vile taunts. He swung his shield with all vicious force, slamming it into Bucky’s side and following up with a brutal uppercut that sent Bucky staggering back.

But Bucky recovered quickly, his expression cold and unyielding as he blocked Steve’s next punch with his metal arm. The force of their strikes echoed through the corridor, each blow landing with the weight of their shared history and the emotional wounds that had been ripped open.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Steve shouted, his voice hoarse with rage as he slammed his shield into Bucky’s midsection again. “This isn’t you! HYDRA did this to you! You’re not their puppet!”

But Bucky just sneered, his eyes filled with contempt as he caught Steve’s next punch and twisted his arm painfully. “She never begged you for more, did she? No matter how much you tried, she always needed me to finish what you couldn’t start.”

The taunt was the final straw. Steve’s vision blurred with a red haze as he let out a guttural scream, wrenching his arm free and slamming his shield into Bucky’s chest with enough force to crack the metal floor beneath them. He didn’t care about strategy or technique anymore—he just wanted to hurt Bucky, to make him pay for every word, every twisted memory HYDRA had implanted in his mind.

Steve pressed his advantage, driving Bucky back with a flurry of powerful strikes. He landed a solid punch to Bucky’s jaw, then followed it up with a brutal shield bash that sent Bucky staggering. For a moment, it seemed as though Steve might actually overpower him. Bucky’s defenses faltered, and Steve took full advantage, slamming him into the wall with a force that made the entire corridor shudder.

“You don’t get to talk about her!” Steve roared, his shield coming down like a hammer, striking Bucky again and again. The fury in his eyes was all-consuming, his movements fueled by a deep, protective rage.

Bucky grunted in pain, the relentless assault forcing him onto the defensive. He blocked a few of Steve’s strikes, but the sheer force behind each blow drove him back, his metal arm straining under the impact.

“You’re not taking her!” Steve shouted, driving his knee into Bucky’s midsection and following it with a devastating uppercut that sent Bucky crashing to the ground.

For a moment, Steve loomed over Bucky, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with anger. He had the upper hand, and Bucky looked up at him with something that might have been fear or perhaps something darker.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. As Steve moved in for the final blow, Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and with a sudden, vicious twist, he swept Steve’s legs out from under him. Steve hit the ground hard, his shield clattering to the side. Before he could recover, Bucky was on him, his metal arm clamping around Steve’s throat, squeezing with unyielding force.

Steve’s vision darkened as he struggled against Bucky’s grip, the initial surge of rage drained him, leaving him vulnerable. Bucky leaned in close, his expression cold and unforgiving, his grip tightening as if to finish him off.

But then, something shifted in Bucky’s eyes. His grip faltered, the anger in his expression wavering. He stared down at Steve, breathing heavily, and for a moment, he looked... lost. The hostility that had driven him was still there, but it was mingled with familiarity.

Steve, gasping for air, could see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes. “You...will put her in danger if you take her,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained but firm. “You’re more than what they made you.”

Bucky’s hand trembled, the pressure on Steve’s throat easing slightly. He didn’t know why, but the idea of finishing Steve off suddenly felt wrong. There was a nagging feeling deep inside him, something that pushed against the cold, mechanical orders HYDRA had drilled into him.

He released his grip on Steve’s throat entirely, stepping back as if unsure of what he had been about to do. He looked down at Steve, who lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt a pang of guilt.

“I... don’t care who you are,” Bucky muttered, his voice cracking with an emotion he couldn’t place. “But stay out of my way.”

Instead of delivering the final blow, Bucky turned and walked away, leaving Steve lying on the cold metal floor, bruised and battered but still conscious.

Bucky reached the detention level, his pace quickening as he neared the cell where you were held. The door loomed ahead and he entered the pin that he was given by one of the agents.

He stepped into the cell, his expression softening as he saw you. “Let's go,” he said, his voice filled with a protective tone that left no room for doubt. It didn’t matter who stood in his way—he would protect you at any cost, even if it meant defying the part of him that still hesitated, still questioned, still remembered.

× × × ×

In the hangar bay, Tony arrived just in time to see the transport vanish into the distance. He cursed under his breath, frustration and anger bubbling up inside him as he activated his comms.

“Fury, we’ve lost them. They’re gone,” Tony said, his voice laced with bitterness.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Fury responded. “Get Rogers and regroup. We’ll figure out our next move, but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Tony glanced back at the corridor where Steve was trying to get up with a grimace.

He made his way back to Steve, kneeling beside his fallen teammate. “Come on, Cap,” Tony muttered, “We’ve got work to do.”

Steve groaned as got up to his feet, head pounding from the beating he’d taken. The first thing he saw when he looked up was Tony’s face, his expression grim but not without a hint of concern.

“Y/N…?” Steve murmured, his voice weak as he tried to push himself up.

“They got her,” Tony replied, his tone flat. “Bucky took her, and they’re long gone by now.”

Steve’s heart sank, the weight of his failure crashing down on him like a ton of bricks adding to the pile. But Tony wasn’t about to let him wallow in self-pity.

“Save it for later, Cap,” Tony said, helping him to his feet. “Right now, we need to get back to the others. Fury’s not going to be happy about this, but we need to regroup and figure out our next move.”

Steve nodded numbly, still trying to process everything that had happened. The pain in his ribs and the bruises covering his body were nothing compared to the agony of knowing that he had failed again.

× × × ×

The dust began to settle, and the team regrouped, battered but unbowed. The realization of what had just happened—of how deeply HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD—hung over them like a dark cloud. The Helicarrier was in disarray, corridors filled with debris, smoke still curling from shattered panels, and the distant sound of alarms echoing through the vast structure. SHIELD agents, those who remained loyal, were helping the wounded and trying to restore some semblance of order.

Steve Rogers leaned heavily against a wall, his injuries and the emotional toll pressing down on him like never before.

Tony Stark, always one to keep moving even when his mind was in chaos, was pacing back and forth, his suit clanking with every step. He had been replaying the events of the past few hours in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word, every move, searching for something they had missed. As his thoughts churned, a memory suddenly clicked into place, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

“Dammit,” Tony muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief. The suddenness of his outburst caused the others to turn toward him, their expressions questioning.

“What is it?” Natasha asked, her tone sharp as she watched Tony with narrowed eyes. She was on edge, the adrenaline of the fight still pumping through her veins, and the last thing she needed was another surprise.

Tony turned to face the group, frustration evident as he pieced it together out loud. “Y/N knew. That cryptic crap she said during the interrogation—it wasn’t just her messing with us. She was trying to tell us something.”

Steve straightened at the mention of your name, his heart tightening as he remembered the cold, distant look in your eyes during the interrogation.

“What are you talking about, Tony?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“She said something about how ‘keep your friends close. . . But your enemies closer,’ and that ‘you’d be shocked at how deep the rot goes.’ At the time, it sounded like she was just spewing nonsense to get under our skin. But now…it makes sense.”

“She was warning us,” Tony continued, his tone filled with a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration. “She was trying to tell us that HYDRA had already infiltrated SHIELD. She practically spelled it out for us, but we were too blind to see it. We were so focused on her as the enemy that we didn’t stop to think about what she was really saying.”

Natasha frowned, her mind racing as she recalled the conversation. “Why didn’t she just come out and say it directly?” she questioned, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew the answer.

“Because she couldn’t,” Clint interjected, “If she’d said it outright, they’d know. HYDRA would have seen it, and they’d have to shut her down before she could give us anything.”

Steve, who had been standing off to the side, consumed with thoughts of you, felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so focused on what you had become—so fixated on the idea of saving you—that he hadn’t seen what you were trying to tell them. You had been trying to help them, in your own way, and he had missed it.

“Y/N was trying to help us,” Steve murmured, his voice filled with a mix of realization and sorrow. “But we didn’t listen.”

Tony’s expression softened slightly, though his usual bravado was still present. “She was still playing her own game, Cap. Don’t romanticize it too much. But yeah, she threw us a bone. And we missed it.”

Natasha stepped closer, her gaze firm and unyielding. “So what do we do now? We can’t trust anyone. HYDRA could be anywhere—everywhere. We need a plan.”

Steve’s mind was spinning, this was the last thing they needed. The fight with Bucky, the realization that you had tried to warn them, the knowledge that HYDRA had already sunk its claws deep into SHIELD—it was hard to believe, but that was now the reality.

But he couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

“We need to figure out who we can trust, and take the fight to HYDRA. We’ll find Y/N and Bucky, and we’ll put an end to this.” Steve said firmly.

The others nodded.

They had been blindsided, caught off guard by the depth of HYDRA’s infiltration. But they were the Avengers—they had faced impossible odds before, and they would do it again.

As the team moved to regroup and plan their next steps, Tony lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Steve. “Cap,” he said quietly, drawing Steve’s attention. “We’ll get them back. Both of them.”

× × × ×

The stolen Quinjet’s engines was the only sound between you and Bucky as the landscape blurred beneath. Outside, the world rushed by in a silent blur of greens and browns, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty.

You sat in the copilot’s seat, staring out of the window, mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Tony’s words echoed in your head, a gnawing doubt that you couldn’t shake. You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you? You remembered him saying, his voice laced with the same arrogance that always grated on your nerves. But this time, beneath the bravado, there was something else—truth.

Was there something HYDRA hadn’t told you? Some failsafe, hidden deep within you? The thought made you uneasy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You clenched your fists, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. You had always prided yourself on being in control, on being the one to pull the strings. But now… now you weren't so sure.

Beside you, Bucky was equally lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the controls, though his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s words from their brutal fight were like daggers in his mind, each one striking a different nerve. He had tried to shut them out, to focus on the mission, but they kept coming back, louder and louder. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

The memories were there, just out of reach, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit. Bucky’s grip on the controls tightened as he fought the urge to scream, to give in to the frustration that was building inside him. But he couldn’t.

“We’re still quite far,” You said quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath it that Bucky didn’t miss.

He nodded, glancing over at you. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice gruff.

You didn’t answer right away, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. When you finally spoke, your voice was low, almost as if you were speaking to yourself. “I don’t know anymore. About anything.”

Bucky didn’t press you. He understood that feeling all too well. For the longest time, his life had been nothing but a series of orders, a mission without end. Now, here he was, flying towards a past that he barely remembered, with a woman who was just as lost as he was.

“Stark is right, you know,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About HYDRA. About the control they still have over me. Stark… Stark said something that’s been eating away at me. He thinks there’s a failsafe. Something I don’t know about.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

“Then we deal with it,” Bucky said firmly, his voice cutting through your doubt. “We’ll find out what HYDRA did, and we’ll tear it out by the roots.”

You glanced over at Bucky, a serious expression settling over your face. “Now that my plan to sabotage Pierce succeeded, he has new enemies,” you said, your voice steady and sure. “What’s left of SHIELD… and us. I just know he's scrambling to get the upper hand.”

Bucky paused, taking in your words before he asked the question that had been nagging at him. “Why did you help them? The Avengers.”

Your gaze shifted back to the window, your expression hardening slightly. “I didn’t.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, confused. “What would you call it then?”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with the weight of what lay unspoken between you. Finally, you turned to face him, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “Taking down Pierce. That was my only goal. The Avengers were just… a means to an end.”

Bucky studied you, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. “So you used them?”

“Use them, manipulate them, call it what you want,” you replied, your tone firm but devoid of the venom that usually laced your words. “I needed them to believe they had the upper hand. It was the only way, very hypocritical. I know.”

Bucky nodded slowly, processing your words. He could see the logic in it, but there was something in your tone, in the way your eyes darkened when you spoke, that told him there was more to it than you were letting on.

“Do you regret it?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer immediately. Your gaze drifted back to the horizon, your expression unreadable.

“Regret is a luxury I can’t afford, Bucky,” you said finally. “Pierce needs to fall, and I did what I had to do to make that happen, for your freedom.”

“And yours. . .?” he asked, his voice quiet but insistent.

You stayed silent, your expression unchanged, but the slight tightening of your grip on the armrest didn’t escape Bucky’s notice. The question hung in the air, unanswered, and he realized that perhaps even you didn’t know the answer.

× × × ×

The next day.

The Quinjet landed softly in the clearing, its engines whirring down to a low hum as the dust settled around it. You stepped out first, scanning the familiar surroundings of your father’s old home. It was a place of memories, both comforting and haunting. The farmhouse had weathered time well, standing as a symbol of resilience, much like those who now sought refuge within its walls.

Bucky followed close behind, his eyes sweeping over the perimeter, ever vigilant. As they approached the entrance, one of your trusted agents—Agent Lawson—emerged from the shadows, his face grim.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” Lawson said, his tone respectful but tinged with urgency. “We’ve got intel. You need to see this.”

Your exchanged a brief glance with Bucky before nodding to Lawson. “Inside,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease growing within you.

You entered the farmhouse, the interior dimly lit but secure. The agent led them to a small room that had been converted into a makeshift command center. Maps, monitors, and files were spread across a large table, each detailing various aspects of their ongoing struggle against HYDRA.

Lawson handed you a tablet, his expression serious. “Ma’am, the Avengers went public with the exposure of HYDRA. It’s all over the news now. HYDRA’s operations within SHIELD are out in the open, and they’re scrambling.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took the tablet, the screen lighting up with a news feed. On it, you could see footage of Captain America, Steve Rogers, speaking directly to the camera in a broadcast that had gone out worldwide. But as you listened to his words, you quickly realized there was something that felt intimately directed at you.

“If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them,” Steve’s voice echoed through the room, his tone calm but behind it, something deeper—something only you would recognize. “I know I’m asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high; it always has been.”

Steve’s voice softened just slightly, a subtle change that might go unnoticed by most, but not by you. “And it’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he continued, his words lingering, as if speaking directly to you, “I’m not afraid to fight for what matters… or who matters.”

Your heart clenched at the unmistakable message, meant for you and you alone. “If I’m the only one, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

The screen froze on Steve’s face, his expression resolute, but his eyes—those eyes that you knew so well— carried a message meant just for you.

“They’ve dealt HYDRA a major blow, but Pierce is still out there,” Lawson continued, oblivious to the personal significance of Steve’s words. “He’s regrouping, and he’s made it clear that he’s coming after you, ma’am.”

You stared at the frozen image of Steve for a moment longer, your emotions swirling, threatening to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself. But then, with a sharp inhale, you forced those emotions down, locking them away where they couldn’t distract you.

Your face hardened as you shoved the tablet back into Lawson’s hands, your voice clipped and cold. “What’s Pierce planning?”

Lawson, slightly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor, quickly handed you a folder. “We intercepted some communications from what’s left of HYDRA’s network. Pierce is regrouping, but he’s been severely compromised.”

You opened the folder, your eyes quickly scanning the contents. As you read, your expression darkened further. “What’s his next move?” you asked, your tone flat, all traces of emotion wiped clean.

Lawson hesitated, his eyes flickering to Bucky before he spoke. “He’s going after you, ma’am. Pierce knows he’s lost control of HYDRA’s influence within SHIELD, but he’s not done yet. He’s activated something—something called Project Lazarus.”

“That bastard Stark was right,” You laughed but your grip on the folder tightened.

“He’s desperate,” you said quietly, your eyes narrowing as you pieced it together. “If he can’t control me, he’ll try to eliminate me. He’s betting everything on this failsafe.”

Lawson nodded. “We believe he’s mobilizing the remnants of HYDRA to locate and retrieve whatever information or technology is needed to activate it. If he gets his hands on it, you’ll be his primary target.”

“We need to find out exactly what and where this failsafe is and how to disable it.” you closed the folder with a snap, your expression cold and resolute. “Lawson, I want every available resource focused on this. Find out everything you can about Project Lazarus—what it is, where it’s stored, how it works. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lawson said, his voice firm as he prepared to carry out your orders.

Bucky stepped closer, the bad feeling bothering his mind increasing intensity. “Y/N, this is a trap. Racing Pierce for this failsafe… it’s exactly what he wants. He’s counting on you going after it, to put yourself in danger.”

“I don’t have a choice, Bucky. If he gets to it first, it’s over. We need to find out exactly what this failsafe is and how to disable it.”

Bucky’s hand twitched, his instincts screaming at him that something was terribly wrong.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted, his voice low and urgent. “There’s too much we don’t know. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. If you go after this, you’re walking right into his hands.”

“Not if we get to it first.” You lifted your hand and placed it over his cheek, “Trust me.”

Not even ten minutes passed by, Lawson returned, his expression urgent. “Ma’am, we’ve got the preliminary intel on Project Lazarus. It’s worse than we thought.”

Your eyes snapped to Lawson, all traces of emotion vanishing as you switched back into mission mode. “What did you find?”

Lawson handed you a small, encrypted drive. “It’s a self-destruct mechanism, embedded within the serum dna. If activated, it will kill the host instantly. Pierce’s plan is to get to the activation device before we can, and if he does...”

Y/N’s grip on the drive tightened, the weight of what Lawson was saying settling over her. “Then it’s game over,” you finished, your voice cold.

Bucky felt his chest tighten as he listened. “Y/N, this is exactly what I was talking about. You’re the one he’s targeting. He knows you’ll go after it, and he’s setting the trap.”

You looked down at the drive in your hand, the realization of what you were up against hitting you fully. But there was no hesitation in your voice when you spoke. “This is why we make sure he doesn’t get there first. We move fast, and we don’t give him the chance to spring his trap.”

“Lawson, get the team ready, we’re moving out in twenty.” You look back at Bucky, giving him a small reassuring smile before you get yourself prepared.

× × × ×

The war room at the Avengers Compound was buzzing with activity. Multiple holographic displays floated in midair, showing maps, satellite images, and streams of data that scrolled rapidly across the screens. The Avengers were gathered around the central table, their expressions tense and focused. Time was running out, and they all knew it.

Steve Rogers stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he surveyed the data being fed in by JARVIS. His eyes were sharp, determined, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in his posture. They had to find Pierce before it was too late.

“JARVIS, expand the search radius to include the most recent HYDRA activity,” Tony Stark ordered, his fingers flying over the controls on the table. A new map appeared, showing several locations highlighted in red.

“I have already cross-referenced known HYDRA safehouses and recent communications intercepts, sir,” JARVIS responded, his voice calm and efficient. “However, Mr. Pierce has been taking measures to cover his tracks. He is not using any of the usual channels.”

“We’re missing something,” Natasha Romanoff said, her voice thoughtful as she studied the data in front of her. “He wouldn’t just go dark. He’s got to be coordinating something big. There has to be a pattern.”

Bruce Banner leaned forward, adjusting his glasses as he examined a cluster of highlighted areas on the map. “What about his known associates? Anyone still in contact with him?”

“Most of them are either in custody or underground,” Natasha replied, shaking her head. “But there are a few we haven’t been able to track down. They could be his lifeline.”

Steve looked over at Sam Wilson, who was monitoring a live feed of communications traffic. “Sam, anything on your end?”

“Not much,” Sam said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But I did pick up a few encrypted messages that could be HYDRA-related. The problem is, they’re using a code we haven’t cracked yet.”

Tony’s fingers paused over the controls, and he turned to look at the team. “We don’t have time to play it safe. We need to flush him out. We hit those locations simultaneously and force him to react.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, nodding. “But we need to be smart about it. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Steve’s right,” Natasha added. “We go in, but we need to be prepared for anything.”

Just then, JARVIS’s voice cut through the tension. “I may have something, sir. I’ve detected a series of anomalous energy readings in an isolated area approximately fifty miles outside the city. The readings are consistent with the signature of a stealth HYDRA base.”

A holographic image zoomed in on the location, showing a heavily forested area with minimal infrastructure. The perfect place for someone like Pierce to lay low.

“That’s got to be him,” Clint Barton said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the terrain. “It’s secluded, hard to access, and easy to defend.”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Tony was already moving toward his suit, the familiar whirring of machinery filling the room as the armor began assembling around him. “JARVIS, prepare the Quinjet. We’re wheels up in five.”

The rest of the team sprang into action, suiting up and gathering their gear. The sense of urgency in the room was palpable—this was it. The moment they had been waiting for.

As they headed toward the hangar, Steve couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. They had the location, they had the team, but there was still an unknown element at play—something that Pierce was counting on. They had to be ready for whatever he had planned.

In the Quinjet, the team settled into their positions, the hum of the engines vibrating through the floor as they prepared for takeoff. Steve stood at the front, his hands gripping the back of the pilot’s seat as he stared out at the darkening sky.

“We go in fast and hard,” he said, addressing the team. “We neutralize any resistance and secure Pierce. But keep your eyes open—this could be a trap.”

“Isn’t it always?” Natasha remarked, a hint of wry humor in her voice as she checked her weapons.

Tony turned to face the team, his visor down, but his voice clear through the comms. “Remember, Pierce knows how we operate. We need to stay one step ahead.”

The Quinjet lifted off smoothly, banking toward the coordinates JARVIS had provided. As they flew toward what they hoped would be the final confrontation with Pierce, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, preparing mentally for what was to come.

Steve’s mind, however, drifted to Y/N and Bucky. He knew they were out there too, likely chasing the same target. His grip tightened on the seat. He hoped they’d stay out of each other’s way, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t likely.

As the Quinjet sped through the night, Steve glanced around at his team, each one of them ready to face whatever lay ahead. This was the moment they’d been preparing for. There was no turning back now.

“Approaching the target location,” Sam announced from the cockpit, bringing Steve’s focus back to the mission. “We’re going in.”

Steve took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle to come. “Let’s finish this.”

The Quinjet descended toward the forest below, and the Avengers braced themselves for the confrontation that would determine the fate of their mission—and possibly much more.

The air inside the abandoned HYDRA facility was thick with tension. Dust and debris lined the cold metal floors, remnants of a once formidable operation. Now, it was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of electricity still pulsing through the aging wires. The Avengers moved cautiously, their steps echoing through the empty corridors.

Steve Rogers led the team, his shield at the ready, as they approached the central chamber. His instincts told him they were close—too close for comfort. The door to the chamber slid open with a hiss, revealing a large, dimly lit room. And there, at the center, stood Bucky and you.

The Avengers froze, surprise flickering across their faces as they took in the sight of the two figures. Bucky’s stance was tense, defensive, while you stood beside him, your gaze throwing daggers.

“Well, well, well,” Tony Stark’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with sarcasm. “Look who decided to crash the party. You two got lost on your way to a HYDRA reunion?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you eyed Tony. “Funny, Stark. I was going to say the same thing about you. Shouldn’t you be off with your lab toys or something? Or is this just another Tuesday for you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his suit whirring softly as he adjusted his stance. “Oh, you know me, always multitasking. But I gotta admit, seeing you two here is a bit of a plot twist. Care to explain what’s going on, or are we doing this the hard way?”

Bucky’s eyes darted between you and the Avengers, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He didn’t like how outnumbered you were, and he especially didn’t like the idea of a fight breaking out with Steve standing just a few feet away.

You kept your gaze locked on Tony, a hint of a smirk still playing on your lips. “Trust me, Stark, you don’t want to do this the hard way. We’re not here for you. But we’re also not here for a social call.”

Steve, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward, his shield raised slightly. “Y/N, Bucky, We’re here to take down Pierce. You’re either with us or against us.”

Your eyes flicked to Steve, your smirk fading as your expression hardened. “We’re here for the same reason, Rogers. But our priority isn’t taking down Pierce. It’s beating him first.”

Tony tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “And what, pray tell, what could be worse than letting that slimeball run free? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re cozying up to the wrong side.”

Before you could respond, a slow clap echoed through the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention to the shadows. From the darkness, Pierce emerged, a smirk plastered on his face as he surveyed the scene.

“Well, isn’t this touching?” Pierce drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “The Avengers, all united in their righteousness, and yet… here you are, just as powerless as ever.”

The Avengers immediately shifted their focus to Pierce, weapons ready, but the tension in the air remained palpable. Your body tensed, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto Pierce.

Steve took a step forward, his voice stern. “Pierce, it’s over. Surrender now, and maybe we can work something out.”

Pierce laughed, a cold, humorless sound that echoed through the chamber. “Oh, Steve. Always the optimist. But you’re wrong. It’s not over. In fact, it’s just beginning.”

He raised a small device in his hand, his thumb hovering over a button. “You all really thought you could stop me? After everything HYDRA has built? The world may see me as a traitor now, but I’m not the one who’s lost here. You are.”

Pierce’s eyes shifted to you, his expression darkening with malicious glee. “And you, Y/N… the precious little weapon we created. Did you really think you could escape us? That you could fight back and win? You’re a tool, nothing more. And like any tool, when you’ve outlived your usefulness, you get discarded.”

Your jaw clenched, but you remained silent, your mind racing. You could see the cold resolve in Pierce’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that he was ready to press the button at any moment.

Pierce continued, enjoying every moment of his twisted power. “This—this is my failsafe. Our failsafe. HYDRA always plans for every eventuality, and you, Y/N, were no exception. One press of this button, and everything you are, everything we made you, ends.”

Steve’s heart sank as Pierce’s words sunk in. The realization hit him hard—Pierce wasn’t just threatening everyone, he was threatening your life. Panic flashed across Steve’s face, and he took another step forward, his voice urgent and desperate. “Pierce, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA promised you, it’s not worth it. Just… put the remote down, and we can figure this out.”

Pierce’s smirk widened, relishing the fear he saw in Steve’s eyes. “Oh, Captain. You think you can negotiate with me? That’s adorable. But you see, I’ve already won. You’re too late to stop me.”

Steve shook his head, his voice breaking as he pleaded, “You don’t have to end her like this. If it’s me you want, take me. Just don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want—just put the remote down.”

For a brief moment, Pierce seemed to consider Steve’s words, tilting his head as if weighing his options. Then, a cold, cruel smile twisted his lips. “You think I’d trade her life for yours? How noble of you, Captain. But no, this isn’t about you. This is about making sure she never defies us again. It’s about sending a message.”

Steve’s desperation turned to anger as he tried one last time. “Pierce, if you do this, there’s no coming back. You’ll lose everything. We’ll make sure of it. Just… don’t press that button. We can find another way—”

But Pierce’s thumb was already pressing down.

To Steve, it felt like the world slowed to a crawl. The small, mechanical click of the button echoed in his ears like a gunshot, louder than anything he’d ever heard. His heart pounded, time moving painfully slow as the full reality of what was happening crushed down on him.

“No!” Steve’s voice ripped through the chamber, filled with anguish and fear. He lunged forward, but it was too late. The failsafe activated, and your body reacted instantly.

Your body jerked violently as if a surge of electricity had just shot through your veins. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening in shock and pain. You tried to reach out, to grab onto something, anything, to steady yourself but your strength drained from you like water through a sieve. You staggered, your legs buckling beneath you as you collapsed to the ground. Your vision blurred, but you fought for as long as you could, looking at Bucky who assisted you to collapse gently on the floor.

“No!” Steve’s voice was frantic, the raw pain in it reverberating through the room. He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling your convulsing form in his arms as if by holding you close, he could somehow stop the inevitable. “No, no, no, please, Y/N! Stay with me, stay with me!”

But you, through the haze of pain and the encroaching darkness, knew what you had to do. You turned your head slightly, focusing on Bucky. Your voice was weak, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Bucky… run. You have to… run. Don’t… look back.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in confusion, refusal written all over his face. “What? No, I’m not leaving you—”

“Go!” Your voice cracked with desperation as you struggled to maintain consciousness. “Go, Bucky! Now!”

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, torn between his instinct to fight and his need to protect you. But then Pierce’s smug smile caught his eye, and something inside him snapped. With a roar of pure rage, Bucky’s metal arm slammed into Pierce, sending him crashing to the ground.

The fight was brutal, savage. Bucky’s fury was unleashed in every punch, every strike. Pierce barely had time to react before Bucky was on him, his fists a blur of metal and flesh, pummeling the life out of him.

Pierce’s screams echoed through the chamber, but Bucky didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until Pierce was nothing but a lifeless, broken mess on the floor. Panting, his vision clouded with rage and grief, Bucky finally looked up, his eyes locking onto your still form, cradled in Steve’s arms. The sight tore at his soul, but your final command echoed in his mind.

Run.

Without another word, Bucky turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows before the Avengers could even think to stop him.

Steve didn’t notice Bucky’s departure. His entire world had narrowed to you—your lifeless body, the cold stillness of your form in his arms. He rocked back and forth slightly, his grip tightening as if he could hold onto your life, refusing to let it slip away. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his mind reeling with disbelief and sorrow.

The other Avengers stood around him, silent and stunned, the gravity of what had just happened sinking in. They had all faced countless dangers before, but this felt different.

This felt final.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, a guttural cry of anguish that echoed through the chamber, filled with a depth of sorrow that none of them had ever heard from him before.

“Y/N!” he cried out, his voice trembling, pleading with a world that seemed to have gone cold and unfeeling. “Please, don’t leave me. You can’t… no…no…please.”

He cradled you closer, his tears falling unchecked, soaking into your hair. Every fiber of his being screamed against what was happening. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. Not for her, not like this. The injustice of it tore at him, threatening to pull him apart.

But you didn’t respond. Your body remained still, your face peaceful, as if you had simply gone to sleep. The life that had burned so brightly within you was gone, extinguished by the cruel machinations of those who had sought to control you. He couldn’t stop the sob that tore from his throat, his anguish laid bare for all to see.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice breaking with every word.

The chamber seemed to grow colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. Time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten, as they all stood in the aftermath of a battle that had been lost in the most devastating way possible.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally stepped forward, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “Steve…” he began, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say? There was no comfort, no way to undo what had been done.

Steve didn’t respond. His focus was entirely on you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He couldn’t comprehend a world without you in it. He didn’t want to.

Finally, after a long, painful silence, Natasha spoke, her voice soft but firm. “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

Steve nodded numbly, but he didn’t move. It took all of his strength to gather himself enough to even consider letting you go. He didn’t want to let you go. The idea of it was unbearable. But he knew Natasha was right. They couldn’t leave you here, not in this place, not like this.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Steve slowly stood, cradling you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing in the world—because to him, you were. He turned toward the exit, his steps heavy, each one feeling like it might be his last.

Steve couldn’t help but glance back one last time, as if hoping to see some sign that this wasn’t real—that you would wake up, that this nightmare would end. But there was nothing. Just the emptiness of a place that had taken so much from them.

They stepped out into the daylight, the sun glaringly bright against the backdrop of their sorrow. Steve’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart breaking all over again.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. “I always will.”

But there was no answer, no sign of life. You were gone, and the world felt infinitely colder because of it.

So they left, carrying with him a loss that would never fully heal, a wound that would forever mark him. Steve walked with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimmed by the grief that had taken hold of him.

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