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gladiatorcunt · 3 months ago

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- JOYRIDE / VIII.

i drink the honey inside your hive

cw: kinktober prompt (daddy kink), southern florist president’s secret child!reader x secret service agent!toji, reader has a vagina, tits used to refer to your chest, age gap (toji is 47 and reader’s early-mid 20’s), dad bf type shit, willing to expand on this, hints of political intrigue and fictional plots, toji x your mom mention, implied and eventual betrayal (not of reader), typical politician behavior, parental neglect & it’s consequences, anal & lack of proper anal prep, dirty talk, light pet play, arguable one sided incest role play & possible actual incest, plus sized!reader, gun play mention, underlying mental health issues, mention of itafushi, flower language, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“There. After nearly breaking my back, the seeds are all planted, finally.”

You'd like to be buried under this magnolia tree, it would be a pretty funeral. Black outfits against the white backdrop of rare winter snow. You have big dreams for this sapling, clearly, as unassuming and drab as it appears freshly planted in the soil of your garden. The ones you’re mom took care of are all gone, maybe they got up and walked after her to somewhere on the horizon. If it doesn’t get so hot the state gets put under another burn ban next summer, this little thing should grow into a beautiful thing that obviously showcases how not depressed you are.

Could a depressed person cope with grief by growing a new life? Well, you wouldn’t know, coping isn’t on your to-do list for a long time if ever. What’s the point of getting better when you’re just going to feel bad again?

Whatever, you shake your head and head back into the shop, you have bills to pay and moping around won’t do anything to help with them. Since you live in a pretty small town, it’s a slow day like always. That is until a tough looking man steps in through the door, opening it and making the bell ding.

His loud sports car is still on and roaring outside, a bright yellow Alfa Romeo 4C.

The man notices your wandering eye and smirks, “You like it, doll? Didn’t take you for someone who’d be interested in cars.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s cool. Must have cost you a lot.”

“Nah. I bought it off one of my buddies at work, fixed it up myself. Well, me and my son’s boyfriend that is. You lookin’ to get somethin’ like that for yourself?”

You’re not really on the market for one, no, because it’s loud as hell and practically rumbling in your ear. You rub it off and ask him what he wants, forgetting some of your politeness, but this man doesn’t seem like he’d care if you spit in his face and kicked him in the balls.

“I’m not from around here.” He rasps and adjusts his sunglasses, leaning one heavy arm on the counter and cocking his hip out, “DC, actually. I’m lookin’ for somebody. You could call it confidential business.”

You hum and narrow your eyes, “Unless that confidential business involves a funeral or getting out of the doghouse with somebody, I can’t help you.”

Suddenly you remember your mother telling you about a big shot politician that knocked her up with you, how he hid you both away when she told him she was pregnant. Your mother was down on her luck 16 year old diner girl, and apparently the politician knew all too well how to use and discard her. The money was enough for your mom to give up her dreams and keep you in this town. When you’ve lived so long without what you think you should, you’re fine to obsessively make sure you never go without again.

He’s the president now anyway, even more reason to make sure you’re the bug that stays squashed under the rock.

The man with the mouth scar notices and decides to drop the act, sighing and taking out his gun. He doesn’t shoot you, just scratches underneath his chin with the puzzle and pointedly makes eye contact with you.

“Okay, let’s cut the shit. My name’s Toji Fushiguro, and I know that you’re who I'm after just as much as you know why i’m here, so why don’t ya just appreciate that y’r old man wants you back and come with me?”

You grit your teeth but you know there’s only one way this interaction is going to end is with you getting in the passenger seat of this nutjob’s car. He watches you shut everything off in the shop and leave a message for the only other employee, asking them to take over until you can come back. He’s a gigantic wolf, tall and silent in the corner, keeping his eyes constantly on his prey. Toji’s never let a bunny or prickly house cat out of his sight in his entire career, but in his current line of work it’s at least legal. Essentially.

“Pretty flowers ya got here.” He says, prolonging your unease. “Maybe his office could use some of these, dull ass beige box that it is.”

Your lips quirk up despite the awful situation, “Yeah I guess. The camellias are new, but hellebores are my favorites, I think. Not many people are into flowers this time of year, but I don’t have anything else to do.”

Toji nods, leading you out of the shop with a hand at the small of your back and oddly content to let you stress babble.

“I’m nowhere near good enough to do arrangements for the White House anyway, regardless of who’s sitting all cozy in it.” You spit and bite one of your nails, nipping at a piece of a hangnail. “Probably’d just throw some buttercups, yellow carnations, orange lillies on the floor, a bit of aconite in there too.”

You know that the agent corralling you into his car doesn’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, but he seems at ease the more you relax into the leather car seat.

You make yourself fall asleep when he puts the car into drive and speeds down the street.

You’ve been in DC for about a week now, without ever actually meeting your dad of course but you’ve met plenty of his staff after Toji introduced you. He’s a secret service agent, who was given the special task of watching over the president’s only child, you can tell he’s not that happy about it.

Probably not as much action as there’d be in his usual position, you’re very willing to go with their plans of you laying low and staying inside most of the time. You’re still so confused, none of this makes any sense at all. You’ve lived your whole life without being involved in any of this but it’s only when your mother’s dead and your father can’t ignore you anymore that he wants to claim you?

It’s all another move in the game towards the re-election. At least he’s a better president than a father, but that’s not by much. Promises to address climate change and the country’s oil dependance getting pushed to the side, worsening class issues and trickle down economics, putting up more anti-homeless measures. You wish you felt like you could leave, but the tiny sliver of hope that by some weird miracle you could do something keeps you from being bold.

There’s nothing you could actually do anyway, you’re never going to be a part of the groups that their agendas support. You’ll always be the small town reject who saw meth addicts at the local gas station more than your own father.

You and Toji have gotten closer, by necessity and the sheer oddity of being polar opposites. You’re both equally as prickly though in different ways, birds of a molted feather. He’s there when you wake up, there during your mundane day, and there outside your door when you go to sleep. Even if you wouldn’t have liked your “bodyguard”, and you’re not sure you do, the distance between the two of you decreasing was inevitable.

He delivers you food, opens your jars, fixes the pipes in your penthouse, drives you everywhere you want to go in the city, carries your books for you in a bookstore, kneels down beside you in the dirt so he can help you with weeding out your garden, and keeps an itemized list of period supplies and your favorite things.

Your favorite minor holiday is national cherry day, he puts a reminder on his phone with the help of his son to always stop by the supermarket and get you some.

You feel like Whitney Houston right now, and if late at night you listen to her albums more than your mom did growing up, fantasizing about a 40+ year old man who treats you like a bug he has to keep alive, then no one has to know.

But no other man’s gonna do

So i’m saving all my love for you

You also think he’s going to assassinate your father. Sometimes you’ll hear hushed whispers late at night between Toji and someone on the phone, he’ll break protocol and leave you alone to duck into another person’s office and end up leaving with a grim look on his face.

You’ve seen the logs he keeps of your father’s whereabouts, which he should have anyway. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but you get the most awful storm in your gut when you see them under a gun that’s never been fired, like it has a special purpose.

You only speak to your father briefly, tense hellos and goodbyes exchanged over the bridge of a too tight handshake. You immediately expressed your distaste for being involved in his political career and he accepted that, letting you galavant on your merry way around town with his most dangerous agent. Ahead of Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, and Sukuna Ryomen, your father’s closest gaggle of hyenas.

You call them that because you could easily imagine drool dripping from their jowls if they felt so inclined to attack, to devour.

They give Toji their own versions of the same look when you pass them in the halls or they need to meet to give security updates, watching and waiting.

They only give you smiles, of every shape and size.

It’s easy to get a closer look at what your father does, the lives he ruins. Peace can only be an option for so long before other courses of action have to be considered. You don’t know Toji’s motives, this could just be another murder for hire paid for by one of your father’s political rivals. You doubt his heart is that deeply invested in those sorts of things, he’s made himself too apathetic, but you can tell that he still cared a little bit. He told you once that he’s had children who grew up starving before he got the job he has now.

They’re your age now, but he’d still do anything to keep it, to support them.

And then you think that maybe someone who’s only ever been abandoned knows what it’s like to hoard any good thing you can get your grubby hands on.

You give him own little bouquet of flowers one day, half because you’re going stir crazy as the weeks go by with Toji being all you know and half because you think you do want him to kill your father.

Purple Orchid.

Red Lily.

Red Anemone.

Gloriosa.

Red Delphinium.

Red Clematis.

Genista.

The next day, he’s barking at you to get packed for a stay at one of the out of the state safe houses. Don’t ask questions, protocol means you heed his warning and hop back in that canary yellow mid life crisis status symbol.

The tension was bound to be cut with a knife, the whole ride to the safe house is filled with sideways glances and slipknot blaring from the speakers. You have the same uneasy feeling that you do anytime Toji even hints at something being wrong, but something seems especially wrong this time. It’s not your job to worry about it though, and the older man tells you as much.

“Shut y’r trap, alright? You never have to get your panties in a twist when y’r with me, sorta.”

The safe house is as boring as expected, something out of a kindergartener's drawing. One story cube shaped, small roof, faded brown door.

You're only in the tiny kitchen for a second when Toji locks the door and comes to prop himself up on the counter, licking his scar.

He chuckles, “You’re a lot different than I thought you'd be, ya know that?

“I could say the same about you, I mean not really, but there are things I was surprised by.” You retort and sort through the cabinets, picking what cereal you’re going to stress eat tonight.

He comes around the counter and his hands slide from the tile to grip your waist.

“Yeah? Like what, doll?” Is cooed right in front of your mouth when Toji leans down.

You’re not immune to the proximity, your heart does a factory reset. “I never knew you could be so sweet, Toji.”

You’re not supposed to refer to him by his name, but you can’t let the word you secretly want to say slip out. You’d have to tell the employee back at your flower shop to be ready to claim the insurance policy on it after you go back and set yourself on fire.

But God, the miserable man looming over your bunny-tense figure really is sweet, distantly warm in the way a generally emotionally unavailable father is. But Toji’s the kind that would actually give you something to hold close to your heart over his long stretches of being absent until months go by and he tries to be better again.

You’re glad Sigmeund Freud isn’t an immortal vampire who would still be around to psychoanalyze you to shreds.

“Sweet to you maybe, ‘cause I have to be.”

“My dad couldn’t care less if you beat me silly.”

“I know.”

He never once said it was your father that compelled him to be as gentle with you as he is. A woman he met decades one, shacking up with an up and coming politician who he didn’t even try and pretend to be better then. They hooked up once and then he met his late wife, but months later the woman from his one night stand swore the baby in her belly wasn’t his. He never asked for a paternity test.

He never will, he’s already enough like your Daddy anyway, there’s no point in getting a confirmation or a denial to what his soul (and his cock) knows is good enough for a rat bastard like him.

You come out of your shame spiral as he splays one of his beefy gigantic hands out on the counter so you don’t get cold when he pushes your head down.

“I’d kill your old man if he kept me from this ass pussy, but it ain’t like he could if he tried.” Toji grunts, pendulous balls slapping your ass like a couple of grapefruits with every rough thrust in your puckered hole.

You gave up on being shy as soon as he clamped a hand around your throat to direct the first kiss you’d share. “Daddy- ngh, you’re gonna break me”.

His hand is so warm, your cheek squishes against the grooves and minor cracks in his skin as your head bobs forward. Despite you already being pressed down into the kitchen counter as much as humanly possible, Toji seems determined to force you to become one with it.

He gropes your thick ass cheeks, watching them bounce and jiggle as his burly hips slam against you continuously. Performance art in its truest form, whiney little baby pushing their hips back to take him even deeper in their fat ass. He didn’t have the means to properly prep you, just spit on his hand and massaged it into your already wet rim and called it a day. No condom either, but he can probably save the pussy job and it's obvious consequences until after your old man’s been made to lie face down in the dirt.

“I like the way your cunt sits under your squishy belly, ‘s pouting, baby. Both you and your pussy are clingy as fuck, huh?” He laughs deeply, reaching the hand that’s not under your face to smack your clit.

Your empty cunt gets wetter at the teasing, clenching around nothing because Toji likes to play pretend that he can be halfway considerate to the poor thing until he can’t. You want it too much right now, when you’re all loopy from his mean pounding in your ass is the moment he’ll regretfully have to pull himself out to sheath his hung length in your chubby pussy.

You moan, thought it gets precariously close to a wail the longer it goes on. “Daddyyyyyyy, oh fuck, shit- ‘m gonna tear.”

Your words end in a squeal of delight, your off the cuff rambling driving Toji to speed up his thrusts to piston his fat cock harder into your ass. Like he almost wants it to tear, your biological daddy gave you some nasty emotional scars, let your real one leave you with a couple physical ones. That’s what good daddies do, they take care of their babies and always give them something to remember them by when they won’t like their ancient relic of a father so much.

“Now don’t get mad at me, but- Oh, fuck- i was gonna kill ya, that was the plan. Take ya back, blow your brains out in front of your dad, make ‘im piss his pants because he knows he’s next.” He smiles knowingly when his hand on your clit feels it throb at his dark thinking-out-loud musings, wishing he could scrunch his fingers all up in your scalp and roughly pet you. “You like it like that, baby bunny? Daddy gets you gooey and syrupy sweet when he touches you, huh? Could just gobble you up whole, bones and all.”

Fuckin’ hell, you’re more precious than diamonds or gold or any loot he could’ve swiped from your old man’s crib. He’ll have to remember to slide his cock between your slick girls later, soap them up in the freestanding bathtub and spill his thick off white load all over them. You’ll lick up what you can but cleaning you up is obviously Daddy’s job, slurping up his own jizz like a wolf smoothing his rowdy pup’s fur down, nuzzling his nose in the valley of your tits and in the crook of your armpits.

“Daddy-” Your mouth gapes, little punched out ‘unh-unh-unh’s fly out of your mouth as your ass ripples. A few of your hairs stick to your forehead and you look over your shoulder, flushed and overwhelmed.

He just said he was going to kill you, you couldn’t even say when he changed his mind if he’s even telling the truth. But all you can focus on is that you really hope no other security personnel arrive at the safe house to check on you, whatever the fuck you’re doing definitely isn’t protocol.

Toji leans forward and scruffs the back of your neck with his canines, nipping the skin and leaving a mark as he slams his hips forward again. His grip on your love handles becomes iron clad and binding, wishing on a shooting star for bruises to form. He plunges in to the hilt with every thrust and gnaws at your sloped shoulder, he’s gonna cum and fill your cute little butt up. Pump your backdoor so full of cump it bulges and trickles down your trembling thighs.

You keen brokenly, floating up and away into his kiss. Which is basically more of an affectionate bite, but his tongue is mapping out your teeth and your cherry chapstick lips glide against his cold weather chapped ones. So it can be technically considered a kiss, but it leaves you reeling, someone just smashed a rock into your face and you’re collapsed on the ground unable to walk it off.

You try to squirm away from the earth shattering pleasure.

“What i’d say about givin’ me a chance, doll? Anyway, you were good as dead until I actually laid eyes on ya. Pretty thing, soft heart with a softer touch, ripe for the picking and left all alone…”

He can feel you getting close, you’re humping back against him like a bunny in heat as his thumb does a frenzied dance on your clit. He slides his big hand up your body to strum your nipples, his soft as a butterfly’s wing touch contrasting deliciously with his diabolically rough strokes.

In the fantasy he coos in your ear and asks if you agree that he did such a good job making this body, didn’t he? He twists his wrist on your pert bud, timing his ministrations with the upwards angled stroke of his cock. Your whimpering, his thick tip hitting the sensitive place you’ve never been able to reach with your fingers or your extra large toys.

“Fill me up, Daddy, please.” You beg, tears streaming down your face and sticking to his hand cushioning you. You turn your head the tiniest bit to wetly smack your lips together, kissing the rugged appendage. “It’s so hungry, I need it, give it up to me already. Not goin’ anywhere.”

Your cock-crazed eyes widen in panic whenever he acts like he’s gonna pull out, allowing you only the tip before grinning and sliding all the way home once again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I fixed it, didn't i? Got you all plugged up and owned doll, would sooner ride the muzzle of Shiu’s gun than kill ya now. Y’r soakin’ my balls so goddamn good.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you-“

Holy fuck, you can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe because how can you when all the air in your lungs is beaten out of you by some 47 year olds’s massive cock. The coarseness of his body is so right for you, abrasive where you’re soft and riddled with signs of being battleworn where your body’s only enemy is you. You feel split right down the middle and you’re half afraid that when Toji eventually pulls out, you’ll fall apart and actually become two bleeding halves of a whole fucked out person.

Your clit throbs at the mental image of his hairy swallowing the muzzle of a gun, Toji licks his lips and mercifully lets you reach behind yourself to claw at his rippling muscular glutes as he fucks you. Your ass squeezes his cock in a vice like grip as you shoot your load onto the pale wood laminated floor below. Your ass cheeks jiggle as your hips jump forward, grinding against the air as you get it all out. Riding that lightning off to who knows where.

“Jesus, oh, Jesus- You’re so fucking insane, Jesus Christ!”

At least Daddy will be there, because you’re certain you’re gonna crave keeping him inside and Toji seems like a terrible guy to try to do cockwarming with.

“Shit, baby bunny, this bouncy cottontail is gonna milk me dry, take me for all my money, isn’t that right honey bunny?” His voice is coated with sickenly toe curling condescension.

He roars a guttural groan, his nails forming crescent shaped indents in your hips as he pushes his cock as far as it can go and spurts his hot cum into your ass with a gruff grunt. He can feel your walls spasm around his dick, the sensation hurtles him further over the edge and his hips jerk and the joints begin to creak from the effort.

He’s not the wild and reckless young man who fucked your mother anymore, but you have him all wrong if you think he’s going to roughouse your shit any differently.

When you’ve both calmed down, his salt and pepper stubble gives you beard burn between the fleshy globes, punctuated by a breathless snicker and a barely there peck to your ass hole.

“Sleep in tomorrow, baby bunny” He says abruptly, his tone dropping to become startlingly serious. “I’ll bring back some breakfast for ya, give you a massage. I better come back and find your adorable ass right where I put it to bed, ya hear me?.”

“Yes, Daddy. ‘Said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He pats your lower back, curling his thick digits around an invisible ball of fur.

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carpkoinobori · 1 month ago

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[⟢] cop car — karina x reader

[𖤐] 1/1 [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): cop car - mitski | no te pido mas - helenita vargas | de oro - la familia andre | la murga - willie colón | la cuchilla - las hermanas calle

summary: you grew up desperate and made your way to the top, even started working for DAS. but your first assignment shouldn’t have been this— they sent you to die. your body lived, though. you didnt.

pairing: patrón!karina x halcón!reader (also x teniente!giselle)

tags: angst, like horrible angst, toxic and I mean Very Toxic yuri, major character death, implied sexual content, this is DARK, set in 1970-90’s colombia, kind of ambiguous but happy ending? reader is lowk stupid and a bop

wc: 10.9k

cw: karina is horribly manipulative, cartels, guns, selling, making, and use of drugs, use of weapons, murder, bombs, death, etc. this is about the colombian cartel ok shit is fucked.

ex: before there’s any outrage I AM COLOMBIAN. all information is acquired through primary sources (ex: family who literally lived through it). most info will be accurate, but my family specifically lived in medellín, calí, and barranquilla. this is set in bogotá. apologies for any city-based in accuracies.

a/n: this is for you aettudae my #1 ❤️

1964, Cundinamarca, Colombia Local time: 1:00 A.M. Location: a small town in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia Objective: . . .

You were born on the outskirts of the city. Bogotá, the capital— the inside was rich, used to be filled with tourists, big buildings and fancy cars. The outside was él pueblo, where you’d wake up at three in the morning, walk to the nearest bus stop, which was probably a few kilometers away, take the buses that never ran on time with the rest of the exhausted men and women heading to work— work for rich people that ran the city till nightfall, get on another bus, and walk a few kilometers home, every day, constantly, while getting paid barely enough to support your family.

That was if you didn’t get robbed, or blown up in the middle of the city, of course— political unrest stemming from La Violencia had made FARC, and the cartel had begun to ramp up production and organization, planting car bombs under public buses and cars. The country was rife with bombings and gang violence till the late 90’s.

But right now, it was in the very early morning.

You would be born in 1964 to a poor family living in Soacha, Cundinamarca, Colombia, right on the outskirts of Bogotá. Your mother would be killed in 1970. Your father would be killed en la cantina, at night, in 1972.

You had been working since 12, anyway. Being told of your pathetic father’s death by a police officer who clearly did not care was when it was decided— you would not die in this town. You would make a name for yourself.

You were right, of course. You did make a name for yourself— you took down one of the most prominent cartel leaders in the country.

Or, at least, that’s what the media thought.

LA VERDAD DE LO QUE PASÓ EN 1989. —————————————————————— THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED IN 1989.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:00 P.M. Location: Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad | Administrative Department of Security (DAS) HQ Objective: Enter the meeting

You made it into DAS at 21.

Really, it was probably just because the high-rank workers felt bad for you. They understood— a girl from the outer part near Bogotá, no parents— you just wanted to make the country better for people like you.

You were given small jobs like paperwork and editing documents, until now. They were calling you in for your first meeting. Despite your usually serious nature, you couldn’t help a bubble of excitement. You’d finally be able to help like you’d always wanted.

which is why it was confusing why everyone was so somber when you walked in.

“Good morning,” you greeted, taking a seat.

“Good morning, y/n,” replied the woman who headed the ground-team. All your coworkers around her looked solemn, and you stared at them all puzzled.

“Your first assignment will be to infiltrate a specific branch of the Bogotá cartel— we fear they might be working with either FARC or plan to merge with another faction, and they’re already quite dangerous as it is— we don’t need more of them,”

the room was silent. You knew what this was— your first year on the job with barely any training. They were sending you to die, just to get some information.

You sat up straight, squaring your shoulders. You would get the information to help your people. You would live.

“I understand,” you replied, with a nod, standing to collect your file.

The woman handing it to you leaned in, a pained look in her eyes “Perdón,”

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 10:54 P.M. Location: Una cantina Objective: Scout an in to the “organization”

The woman in charge of the specific section of the widespread cartel that was causing so much destruction frequented a specific bar. You had been given her file— she was beautiful, with dark hair and pale skin, but she didn’t seem to be colombian. It didn’t really matter, to you— you weren’t here to ask her why she’d made these choices— you needed to infiltrate one of the largest cartels in Bogotá, on your first job.

you sighed, your head in your hands, the bartender giving you a cursory glance. The place was seedy, filled with alcoholics and sex-workers, as well as probable cartel members, which is why you were here.

You sat up, looking around. It was said Karina frequented this bar. You prayed she’d show up, making the sign of the cross.

God delivered— she walked in, with two other people you didn’t quite recognize— one had dark hair, as well, with big eyes, although her face was serious. The other was lithe, thin— her hair was shorter, and lighter in color, more similar to a brown.

You knew what you’d have to do to start getting information. It made you feel a little sick— a part of you, though, was grateful Karina was so beautiful. Her smile was cocky and smug, like that of someone who knew she was untouchable. She made conversation with her two accompanies, talking and laughing and drinking. You waited for an hour or so, so that she was now most definitely more than tipsy.

you walked over, wearing a short, tight black dress that let you fit the bill of another profession, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

another thing about the cartel. if they wanted a girl, they’d have her. The club was a dangerous place, the bar was a dangerous place— you’d seen a man get shot at a hamburger cart. The cartel was ruining the country.

you pushed down your sudden wave of resentment, focused on flirting with Karina. Her friend, the long haired girl, stared at you for a long time, scrutinizing. You wouldn’t know what that meant, for a while.

Karina grinned, tilting her head. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t see why not,” you smiled, voice practiced to be smooth and flirty. You didn’t drink, usually, but you needed the courage.

She handed you a shot of aguardiente. It was dry and burned your throat, but it was good. You made conversation. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You smiled, putting a hand on her arm. “Seems a bit.. dirty,”

Karina smiled, predatorily, teeth glinting in the low yellowed light. “Just trying to relax. You don’t seem like the type of girl to frequent this place. Why are you here?” She asked back.

“Oh, just.. trying to have a little fun,” you replied, lowly, voice ghosting over her ear. She seemed to like that answer.

“Yeah? Why don’t you come home with me, then?”

Your smile widened, although your eyes with still half lidded, touches fleeting. You still played your part.

“I will,”

you ended up going home with Karina. It took months to get her to trust you, but you had finally managed to get her to let you start working. All it took was a sob-story, a fake name, and she allowed you to work in her jurisdiction.

and so began the first objective: names. You needed names.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 4:33 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had a home, of course, a large one— you had seen parts of the inside many a time. Of course, they also had some warehouses where they kept goods, where some of the members could crash for a night. You usually stayed with Karina, following her orders.

Some of the members used fake names. You had managed to catch onto one— Ning Yizhou, or NingNing. It was kind of stupid to put part of your real name in your fake name, but plenty of members didn’t use false names at all. You supposed it was just because they didn’t have much to hide.

The name was quietly recorded into your notebook— in code, of course, specifically pigpen-cipher, although you mixed it in with a few different things, referencing dice code as well to make it more confusing— the members of the organization sometimes forgot to call out their chosen names for each other, slipping up. You didn’t mind, though, it made your life easier.

The group had a whole network across Bogotá, planning to move into Medellín, which you felt was not a good idea, but had said nothing.

at one point, Karina brought you all out to eat at a very nice restaurant. You had become a favorite of sorts, for her. She didn’t suspect a thing, thank god.

They began to make small talk, conversations imbued with remarks about the ‘business’, people causing problems, supply and demand, and those annoying Americans.

the waiter came, and everyone quieted.

”Una cerveza, porfa,” Karina was first.

“Dame un refresco, por favor,” Giselle.

You felt something.. off. Obviously, Giselle wasn’t colombian. None of these four women were. But they all learned Spanish here. None of them really spoke Spanish beforehand. Giselle was speaking very.. correctly. Or, at-least, not using slang from colombia. Had she learned Spanish in Mexico? Castellano? Was she part of another gang?

you hadn’t noticed it was your turn to order with all the thoughts running through your mind. You looked at the waiter, glancing at Giselle.

“Si me haces el favor, una gaseosa,”

Giselle didn’t seem fazed by it. but something was off about her. Something was very, very off.

“Karina,” you called, walking into her office. She seemed to be writing something down. Most likely something about funds or money. She did have people in the banks to clean her money for her, but she didn’t like others running her finances. Too much of a chance for embezzlement. A part of you liked she was smart with her business.

“Winter told me you called for me?” You murmured, leaning against the side of her desk, tilting your head, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” she affirmed, turning in her chair to you. “I have a job I need you to complete. You’ll be going with Winter,” she informed. “It’s nothing that difficult. You’ll both be going on some runs. It’ll just be delivering a few.. products, to a contact. It’ll be a long drive, maybe a few hours. She’ll come get you at four in the morning, exactly,”

Your face stayed carefully blank, but you plastered a content smile onto it. “Of course, I’m glad to be of any help. Speaking of help, Karina, you seem a little stressed..” you smiled wider, voice imbued with a sultry tone.

Karina was honestly a bit foolish. Smart with money, bad with people. Perfect for you.

She still suspected nothing, you thought, as she kissed you, hungrily.

the night ended with her paperwork left unfinished, and you asleep in her bed.

Winter was probably not going to be happy.

Winter was waiting outside the room for you, arms crossed and leaning on the wall. You had dressed into something casual— just jeans and a shirt. You glanced over at her with a blank expression. “What do we need to deliver?”

She seemed to be thinking, before pushing off the wall, and beginning to walk. You followed.

“Guerrilla wants some weapons. We’re just there to deliver,” she muttered, cigarette hanging half out of her mouth, unlit. You made your way to the car, getting in the passenger, the supplies in the back. “It’ll be a long drive up the mountain. Let’s try not to get stopped, yeah?” She muttered, starting the ignition.

You drove in silence, for a bit. The humidity of the air was starting to get to you. You hated the heat.

Winter didn’t talk to you, much. You didn’t think she liked you. You were pretty sure it was because she believed you weren’t worthy to be in the gang— you were just Karina’s plaything.

you didn’t really care what she thought, though. You had a job to do.

after a few hours, you had made it sufficiently up the mountain to the trade-off point. You stepped out of the car.

It was still foggy, from the rain and the altitude. You almost felt a bit lightheaded— but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The plants and mosquitos were certainly bothersome, but you said nothing. Helping Winter lug up all the weapons was definitely hard— you weren’t very strong. Winter stared at you in annoyance, mumbling curses, most likely about you, under her breath.

the trade off was successful, but then, yet again, you had to make your way down the mountain with duffel bags of money. It was heavy. Putting it away in the trunk was simple enough. You collapsed back into the passenger, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You felt gross.

“Why was that so heavy?” You muttered, under your breath. Winter closed the door of the driver’s side.

“It’s not that heavy, you’re just weak,” she spat, annoyed. “You made us take an extra half hour. You’re not efficient,” she continued.

“It’s hardly my fault, Winter! This was my first job, I don’t-”

“I don’t know why Karina thought it’d be a good idea to let you help, you’re absolutely shit at it,” she retorted, acidly. “The only thing you’re good at is being her whore,” she cursed, as a snide closing remark.

You turned to her as she drove. You may be making sacrifices to get information, but Winter had no idea what you were working towards. It was an insult to your pride. Yet, you couldn’t think of a retort.

“I’ll work harder,” you muttered. “I want to be useful,”

she scoffed, but at least you said you’d try. She still didn’t like you, though. “Face it, sweetheart,” she began. “You’re not cut out for this life,”

When you arrived back to the warehouse, Ningning spotted Winter before you. You were taking some of the bags out, but could still here from the inside.

“Kim Minjeong! What took you so long?” She chided.

Winter rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Quiet down, Ning. Karina’s toy isn’t supposed to know our names until she proves herself. And anyway, she’s nearly useless. She’s the reason I took longer,”

you obviously pretended not to hear as you hauled money bags inside.

Two names down. Two to go.

Giselle and Karina were two harder to find out then the other two. You were sure with enough time, Karina would tell you her real name. She seemed on the verge of it, anyway, with how much she wanted to hear it fall from your lips.

Giselle, though.. you had no contact with her. She was always off, managing distribution or making sure people stayed in line. You never saw her around much.

but slowly, you began to become part of the group. You mostly helped on small runs, with either Winter or Ning. Ning didn’t really care what name you called her, writing it off as semantics that didn’t matter. Winter, of course, took herself very seriously, so you continued to have to address her formally. She was such a pain, but honestly, you didn’t mind much.

what you had to focus on now, most of all, was getting Karina to trust you.

that came in the form of another run. Although this time, it went so, so wrong.

You were meant to drop off a shipment near Medellín. You didn’t think anything would happen, really— the mountains were a bit far out from Bogotá, and it was closer to the border anyway.

You had been given a gun. It was handed to you by Ning a few weeks prior, under the orders of Karina. You knew how to use one, and no one asked why.

the drive there was mostly silent. Winter still wasn’t very warm to you, yet, she didn’t hate you. You had begun to earn your place, and she respected the effort, if anything.

You drove, and the closer you got to the warehouse, the more dread washed into your bones. “Winter,” you called, under your breath. “I think we’re being watched,”

“We’ve been down this route a million times, y/n. We’re fine, no one would-”

a gunshot rang out through the silence.

It missed Winter by a centimeter, hitting the windshield. You cursed the fact these jeeps didn’t have roofs or side-door windows. Minjeong sped up, of course— if she braked they’d fire again. It was all a blur, from there. You got out of the car, your back against the corrugated metal of the drop off point’s doors. You stared around you, pointing at an old building. “There, Winter- it’s a-”

“Snipers,” she finished, eyes wide with panic. “Hijueputa! I fucking knew we should’ve stayed away from Medellín-”

“No fucking time for that, Winter, get down-”

bullets cut through the air. You dragged Winter behind the Jeep’s metal body, looking over it and shooting wherever the bullets rained from.

there was maybe three people, four, even. Winter focused on the right, you focused on the left. You only had a pistol on you, but luckily you had enough rounds. You aimed straight at one man’s head— it was a straight shot, and you saw the blood spew out from his forehead. It was a mess of blood and bits of brain as far as you could see, his body slumping over the sandbags where he was hiding. They turned red, quickly.

You peeked over the jeep, again, about to shoot the second man on the left when—

a sharp pain was felt in your right shoulder. The force of it sent you nearly falling back, but you caught yourself. You looked straight ahead.

the sniper.

You were panicking and filled with adrenaline— you set the gun on the other man, watching him rise slowly, and—

straight into the neck, blood rushed out of the wound, and you heard a disgusting gargling noise. Blood, in some areas, was highly pressurized— it would shoot out like a fountain.

Winter had managed to shoot the sniper, finally, which was a miracle considering the distance. Right now, you didn’t care about the logistics of how, all you knew was that this was a trap. More people were coming. “Winter, we have to go,” you demanded, looking over at her.

She was bleeding from her thigh and side. Fucking hell.

you shoved her into the passenger seat, ignoring the warmth you could feel trickling down your shoulder, the way it hurt to move your arm. You started the car, and drove straight out of there. You drove as fast as you could, making it back in just around two hours and a half. You had tied your jacket around Winter’s leg, and her own around her side, the other girl groaning in pain throughout the ride. “Ya, Winter, cállate!” You spat, stressed and frazzled. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be okay-” you continued, clenching your jaw to not scream from the burning in your shoulder.

When you made it back, you stumbled out of the car, glass shards all over the hood, opening the doors. “Ning,” you called, knowing she’d always be near, most likely cleaning some blood after an interrogation or packing some coke. “Ning, it was a trap- help, please, Winter got shot,” you continued, calling out desperately. Ning appeared a few seconds after, eyes wide, rushing to the car. She helped Winter inside, laying her on the couch. She had lost a bit of blood, but the bullet hadn’t hit a major artery. You knew the bullet shouldn’t have hit her heart, either. Ning looked at you, seriously. “Go get Karina. And Giselle,”

you did as told.

you rushed to Karina’s office, the older woman looking at you with a bored expression, gaze lingering on your shoulder.

She didn’t ask any questions, just raised an eyebrow. “It was a trap,” you replied, panting, ignoring your own bleeding shoulder. “Winter.. she needs- she needs a hospital,”

Karina looked unsurprised. “Oh, yes,” she replied, holding your gaze. “How unfortunate of an event,”

Her words were.. slow. Almost mocking or sarcastic— you didn’t have time to decipher what they meant. She brushed past you, making her way to Winter, calmly

“Ning, how bad is it?” She questioned, leaning over the other girl’s body. There was no hint of worry or concern on her face, just curiosity.

“Not fatal, but serious. It didn’t hit the femoral artery, but I suspect it either fracture or grazed her femur. For the side wound, I don’t think it hit anything major, maybe a rib, but no organs. Even so, she needs medical attention now, Karina— speaking of, where is Giselle?” She continued, exasperated and stressed.

“She should be on her way. She was coming back from a job, already. She should be here soon,” was Karina’s nonchalant reply.

you decided that she couldn’t really be waited on, and Karina was clearly unhelpful.

“Do you guys have an operating table? You know what— get me a table. Just get me a table,” you demanded, reaching for some surgical gloves.

They laid Winter on the table, turning on all the lights. You positioned a lamp right over her, and stared at the bullet wounds.

there were only 2. You could do this, you had been taught first aid. This couldn’t be that hard.

You began to clean the wounds with running alcohol and cotton balls, trying to wipe away the blood that wouldn’t stop, and clean the wounds. You had grabbed a pair of tweezers, planning on just yanking out the bullet yourself when Giselle slammed the doors open, staring at the scene in shock.

“What the fuck are you all doing?” She shrieked, rushing over and moving you away. “Do you have any surgical training at all? You could kill her!” She exclaimed.

“Well, you weren’t exactly coming very quickly,” you retorted, now insulted. “I’m sure it’s not that hard to remove a bullet, just take it out-”

“Are you an idiot?” She exclaimed, shocked. “Get out of the way, this is why I’m here. I’ll deal with this,”

she pushed you away, putting on her own pair of blue surgical gloves, and a mask. She moved the lamp to the wound on Winter’s chest, inspecting it. She took hold of the tweezers, cleaning the wound once again with an alcohol wipe— but there was no time for painkillers. She extracted the bullet carefully, holding Winter down so she wouldn’t squirm and hurt herself, followed by her stitching up the wound. It took around twenty minutes for the bullet hole to be stitched up.

she repeated the same process with the second, before cleaning the wounds, again, and beginning to wrap them with gauze. Winter looked pale, and in pain, but she tried to show no sign of it on her face. Once Giselle finished with her, she turned over to you.

“Sit,” she instructed, voice flat and providing no room for judgement.

Karina had shrugged, disappearing back to her office, while Ning had left to go help Winter, leaving you alone with Giselle. She removed your shirt, unclipping your bra with practiced ease, and inspecting the wound. It had started to really hurt, now, the adrenaline having worn off.

“Don’t you have painkillers?” You asked, petulantly.

“No,” she muttered back. “You can handle it. You’re part of a gang, now, there’s going to be pain,” she reminded, harshly.

She cleaned the wound with alcohol, a hiss leaving your mouth at the sting. Your breath hitched when the tweezers made their way into the wound on your shoulder, clenching your jaw in pain. Giselle looked at you, coldly. “Don’t scream,” were her final words before she removed the bullet, cleanly, in one piece.

you gasped in pain, breathing heavily as the wound began to bleed again. Giselle held your other shoulder, keeping you in place as she sewed it shut, cleaning it again, and wrapping it with gauze. “Fuck,” you hissed, wincing at the sting of alcohol.

“Stop squirming,” she growled, and it made you sit still, albeit breathing hard and cursing under your breath. She handed you two pills— painkillers— and a glass of water, after the fact.

“Don’t take baths, you’ll reopen the wound, make sure to shower. Someone will have to help you redress the wound and make sure it doesn’t get infected. Karina isn’t good with wounds, and Ning will handle Winter. I’ll keep an eye on you myself,” she muttered, and it felt more like a threat than anything.

you took the pills, drinking the water to wash them down.

you glanced over to her.

“What are you, a doctor?” You asked, curious albeit a bit sarcastic.

“Yes, technically, I am,” she responded back, flatly. “Worked in el campo for my residency, saw the Guerrilla, saw the way people were living— got into this business, just as it started. That’s all,” she finished, succinctly.

you felt like the story was too practiced. Too simple. You began to suspect that something was off with Giselle— something most definitely was. The way she was never with the rest of the group, her detachment, her strange accent— she was suspicious, and it occurred to you that if you could reveal whatever it was, you’d secure yourself a spot in the gang and officially cement your place, as well as weakening the structure and trust of the organization. It was perfect. This was a great chance, an amazing opportunity. You were sure to take it.

That is, of course, if everything went according to plan.

(It never did)

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina had something to do with this. She seemed so dismissive, so.. unimpressed. What was it? Why was she so cold?

You sat at the edge of Winter’s bed, the other girl listening to your ramblings and theories half-heartedly, dazed. Ning was leaning against the wall, the both of you speaking lowly, so as to not be heard.

“She was testing you,” Ningning informed, after mulling on it for a bit.

“What?” You blinked, the words like a shock to your system. “She sent one of her men— along with the newest recruit— into a trap, with only two pistols against a sniper and three other men, all to test.. no, why would she do that? She wouldn’t endanger her own members,” you dismissed, shaking your head.

“She would,” Ning informed, flatly. “Karina’s our boss, yes, we respect her. But she didn’t get to where she is by playing nice,” she reminded. “Karina will do whatever she has to do to ensure her business, first and foremost. That is what is the most important to her. Plus, the government has been far too close to us, lately,” Ning scoffed, shaking her head with her arms crossed. “She’s probably become more careful— which isn’t good if you’re new. You’re probably in for it,” The dark haired girl guessed, meeting your gaze. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we got dragged into it, too. We’re disposable. Just pawns in this game,” she continued, pushing off the wall and reaching the door, hand resting on the handle. “But I hope you make it out,” she added. “You’ve been helpful,” was her final compliment, before she exited.

You stared at your hands. You had thought— genuinely— that Karina was kind, maybe misunderstood. You really thought you were smarter than her.

you now realized that Karina was extremely intelligent. She didn’t care what sacrifices had to be made— she’d protect what was hers, what she’d built. Worst of all, she might even know you were an informant already, she might just be playing with you.

you had walked right into the lion’s den, without even knowing. All the while, you thought you were one step ahead, that you were in control.

your head fell to your hands, a choked sob leaving your body.

you were going to die here.

Every single one of you was going to die here.

1985, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 6:25 P.M. Location: currently, a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been a week since the incident. Winter had given you her real name— Kim Minjeong. Why? She said you had earned it, after saving her life.

Things had been tense, to say the least. Ning was considerably angry with Karina, which the older girl did not like. Giselle had been speaking to Karina more often, yet, she was also out the same amount of time.

Minjeong had told you that there had been talk of working more closely with the guerrilla, and that information worried you. The guerrilla was already enough trouble on its own— with the resources from the cartel, it’d be a horrible force for the government.

It was early November, already, and Giselle had seemed beyond tense, pacing whenever you caught a glimpse of her in her room, always thinking to herself, it seemed.

she was changing your bandages, now, a distant look on her face. The movements were practiced, almost like she was working on autopilot.

“Hey,” you called. “Giselle,”

“What?” She responded, flatly. “What is it?”

“Why do you seem so mad lately?” Was your question. She kept a blank, annoyed look on her face. She continued to clean your wound, but eventually responded. “Nothing. Just some negotiations that have been going in circles for days, now. Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed, stepping back once she had finished, moving to get some gauze.

“Really?” You hummed. “Anything to do with the guerrilla?”

Giselle stared, clenching her jaw. She began to bandage you, but spoke lowly. “Don’t talk about them. You have no idea what they’re like. You shouldn’t know any of this, anyway. I’m sure Karina wouldn’t like that,” she added, dangerously.

After the events that transpired on your last run, you had grown wary of Karina. You tried not to make it obvious, but everyone could tell, and the girl delighted in it. She loved the power and control, of course. Her smile was unsettling.

you quieted, after that comment. Giselle finished bandaging you, stepping away. “Stay out of things that don’t concern you,” she advised, but took a second to add something on. “Don’t worry too much. I don’t think she’ll kill you,” Giselle paused, a smile blooming on her face, “Yet,” she added, walking out.

Not very comforting in the slightest, but you should figure out what you could while you were here. You sighed, laying back on the bed.

Giselle was definitely lying about something— you just needed to find out what.

The guerrilla had led a siege on el Palacio de Justicia. It lasted two days, with many deaths. You saw the current news on it, even contacted your people in DAS about it— they had strictly warned you not to unless information was found, but those were your people. They could’ve died.

Giselle watched the news over your shoulder, or listened to it while she fixed your bandages. Minjeong had been getting better, too, her leg much better. Ning watched as well, her arms crossed.

Karina didn’t comment on it. Almost like she knew it would happen.

a suspicious amount of money was given to the guerilla by Karina a few weeks prior. You felt a shudder run through you, which Giselle responded to with a bark of “Stop squirming”.

later, Karina called you into her office.

“Y/n,” she smiled, tilting her head. “You seem.. on edge. May I ask why?” She was being overly formal, and it unsettled you.

“Ever since the attack, I keep feeling like it’ll happen again,” you began, rambling— it wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The fear in your eyes and shakiness of your movement confirmed that, at least, it was partially true. “Im scared, that they’ll come here, and kill us. I don’t know what to do,”

Karina’s smile stayed in place, as she ushered you to sit down on the couch, there. “Don’t worry, corazón,” she assured, a hand running through your hair. You began to relax— maybe she wasn’t so scary, after all— It was understandable, maybe it wasn’t actually a test, maybe-

“As long as you’re loyal, nothing bad will happen to you,” she continued, hand tightening in your hair. “If you were to sell us out, then, you understand. I couldn’t promise your protection,” her hand strengthening its grip on your hair, speaking into your ear.

“Now, why don’t we get your mind off it?” She offered, looking into your eyes with a faux-sweet expression.

you complied, obviously. Despite the fear, there was a part of you that was drawn to her. She was threatening to kill you if you betrayed her, yet, you still kissed her, desperately.

she kissed back, of course, hungrily and heatedly.

That’s how most of the both of your talks ended, anyway.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 12:01 AM Location: una discoteca Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

It was 1986, now— had just turned into the new year. You were at a club, celebrating another year alive.

You had no idea where the other three girls went, thoroughly tipsy and entranced with Karina.

Karina was a bad person, you knew this. She was ruthless, and you should be scared of her.

but right now, with her hands on your hips, in the flashing lights of the club, you couldn’t quite remember that.

The two of you stumbled into the quieter, back parts of the club where there were rooms. Karina knew this place better than you, anyway.

it was still loud, and you could barely hear anything. She pressed you against the wall, tugging your hair, beginning to suck and bite at your neck.

she was most definitely drunk, you could tell by the flush to her face and how her words were looser than normal.

You knew you should’ve taken advantage of this, but you couldn’t. Your body felt hot, and instead of finding information, like you should have, you fell right back into Karina like a rat to a glue-trap.

you were pathetic.

and you knew it.

1986, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:23 AM Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

Karina had called you into her office, except this time, Giselle was there.

You were beyond exhausted, but did not complain.

They were both intimidating. Giselle was staring at you, coldly, arms crossed, while Karina had an amused expression on her face, grinning, head tilted into her hand.

“Y/n, I have a job for you,” she called, in a cheery voice.

“It shouldn’t be too hard, but you’ll be working with Giselle from now on. It’ll be good for you,” she continued, standing up and walking towards you. “She’ll keep you safe— won’t you, Gigi?” She asked, almost mockingly, a saccharine expression in her face.

“You’ll have a body by the end of the day. That’s all you want her for, anyway,” Giselle retorted, irritated.

“How great! Come now, y/n, Giselle will explain,” Karina beckoned, quite happy today. Some expansion into the U.S. had gone well, you knew that much, but there was no reason she should be so.. animated.

Karina handed you a semiautomatic pistol, which you stared down at. She then smiled, handing you a small box of bullets. She still kept a smile on her face, remarking, “You know, these are special. They’re hollow point bullets— Ningning made them,”

“What? She made them?” You knew of hollow-point bullets, they weren’t a secret, just uncommon.

“Drill a hole into them, cut an X to make some petals, and there you have it— well, I’d ask Ningning, of course, I’m not a weapons specialist. It’s quite easy,”

“But why? They don’t-”

“Effectiveness. They leave a bigger exit wound, and leave shrapnel inside the body at times,” Giselle interrupted. “In other words, pain. They’re used to inflict pain,”

Karina smiled, sadistic as ever, as she watched Giselle load some rifles.

“Today, we have a few hits to get done,” Giselle informed. “You’ll be coming with me. You know how to shoot a rifle?” She asked, glancing over at your horrified expression.

“No, I-”

“What about a pistol?”

You nodded.

“Perfect!” Karina exclaimed. “You can help with the interrogation, then. Giselle, I’ll meet you at the location. Try not to dirty her too much, hm?” Karina advised, slinking away.

“That’s why she’s so happy?” You asked, in shock. “Because-”

“Because she gets to kill someone? Yeah, that’s why. She’s sick in the head. You knew what you were getting into,”

you stared at Giselle in silence. The other girl was grabbing some sniper-rifle that you had never seen before, and several rounds of ammunition.

she loaded it into the car, and you two began the drive.

you held the pistol in your hands shakily, silent for most of the ride.

once you got to the location, you watched Giselle pray. You had heard of hitmen praying before their job, and you still couldn’t understand. They prayed to God to protect them, yet, they were about to take a life.

“Why are you praying?” You asked, suddenly, acidly. “We’re about to kill people, God wouldn’t-”

“It’s my job,” she interrupted, which was a common occurrence with Giselle. “It’s my job, and I’m just asking Him to keep me alive until it’s over,” she spat, coolly. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do. But you will, soon. So just shut up, will you?” She got out of the car, slamming the door shut. You scrambled after her, and the both of you hauled the equipment up the boarded-up, run-down building, up several flights of stairs, finally beginning to set it up after a few stories, looking down at a busy road.

“Why are we killing him?” You murmured your question, watching as Giselle began to adjust the rifle.

“He owes Karina money, and he won’t pay it. He also stole some of our goods and has been cutting pure cocaine with some other shit, I didn’t really care enough to figure out what. His other friend is the one we’ll be interrogating. He’ll die no matter what he says,” Giselle shrugged, watching the empty street, the morning finally coming through the sky, although the dark, clouded sky blocked the bright sun.

“How long will we be here?”

“However long it takes,”

It turns out that “however long it takes” meant almost eight hours. You were bored to death, yet still terrified. You were about to kill someone. And you had been here, waiting on edge for it to happen, for almost eight hours. You felt like you were going to burst into tears.

“Giselle, how much longer is this gonna take?” You complained, although a bit shaky.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here either,” she drawled. “But he should be here, soon. He works near here,”

It took maybe another half hour before he appeared. Giselle saw him before you did, obviously— you didn’t even know what he looked like— but she didn’t immediately shoot. Her eyes stared down at him through the scope, her fingers brushing against the trigger. He was wide open, walking slowly without a car in the world. He stopped for a second, someone crossing in front of him—

click.

you heard the gun go off before you looked down.

Giselle had shot him perfectly in the side of the head. You couldn’t see a lot, obviously, you were pretty high up, but you saw enough.

his body crumpled to the ground, immediately, blood pooling around him. People screamed, cars stopped, and they all were looking around frantically trying to find the shooter. Giselle moved the gun and herself away from the window, to the side where they weren’t visible.

“Come on, hurry up— we gotta go,” she urged.

“Hold on, won’t they see us step out of the building? Isn’t this a bad idea?”

“They won’t catch us, there’s too much chaos going down there. Now come on, let’s go,”

The drive to the warehouse was relatively silent.

Giselle was tense, but that wasn’t new. She always was. But she seemed almost.. solemn. Quiet.

you both arrived, stepping out of the car, into the meeting point. Giselle had her own pistol, you also kept yours on hand.

when you entered, there was a man tied there. Giselle tensed when she saw him, but said nothing. You figured it was because of Karina, standing behind him with the same placid, content smile. It was eerie.

“Giselle, Y/n! You’ve made it,” she smiled. “I take it the job went well?”

“It was all fine,” Giselle replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened,”

“That’s great, really, it’s good! I’m quite happy today, Y/n, because we have a special guest. I know I said he owed me money— in a way he does— but this is something far more important. He works with the Americans! Isn’t that just amazing?” She continued, happily, waving her gun around in the air as she spoke. “I’m sure we’ll get some good information out of him,”

“So, the both of you, come! Let’s begin,” Karina gestured to the man, in the dim lights.

you figured, well— the show must go on.

The man was tied to a chair, that much was obvious. The floor was concrete, and there were boarded up windows and maybe one or two hanging lightbulbs. It was a bit dark.

the walls were steel, corrugated iron, and it gave a prison-like feel. the man was looking around, wildly, straining against his restraints.

“Hey,” Karina called, walking closer to him.

“You’re going to tell me everything there is to know about those Americans, okay? And then I’ll let you go. As long as you don’t lie,” she assured, pausing. “Now talk,” she demanded.

“They’ve noticed the supply into their country. They’re working on stopping it. They’ve already sent a few agents to infiltrate a few different parts of the cartel—”

“Which ones?” Was her sharp, quick reply.

“Medellín, primarily, but they’ve been looking to Bogotá. I don’t know much more than that, I don’t even know who the agents are, I-”

“Ning!” Karina barked, the dark haired girl appearing out of the dark. She held a pistol in her hand, jaw clenched, staring up at Karina.. defiantly, almost. “Won’t you be a dear and deal with him, for me?”

Ning glanced to the man. His eyes widened, and he began to thrash. “No! I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know any agents! I don’t know anything!” He pleaded, desperately. Ning looked away, aiming the gun.

You heard a whispered ‘I’m sorry’, and she made the shot.

Through the head, perfectly center. Ning placed a hand over her mouth, the smell of blood biting and metallic, letting out a choked sob.

Karina looked over at Ning. “Now, Ning-ie, there’s a bus waiting for you outside. You’ll take that back to our meeting point, won’t you? So you won’t get caught?”

Ning nodded, wiping her eyes of tears. She went over to Giselle, they exchanged some words, hugged— she came over to you.

“Y/n.. I’m sorry. There’s no way to get you out, now. Be careful, don’t.. don’t trust anyone, don’t- just.. be careful, okay?” she advised, lowly, hugging you, still crying faintly.

“Ning, what- I don’t understand, why’re you acting like this?”

“You’ll tell Minjeong I’ll miss her, right? I wanted to say goodbye, properly, but.. I didn’t have time. I left a note,” she added, slipping it into your pocket inconspicuously, pulling away from the hug. “Give it to her, for me. You were fun to be around, I’ll miss you too. Don’t lose yourself, stay focused. It was nice to know you, y/n,”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her- I’ll give it to her- Ning, why are you acting like this? What’s going on?”

Ning smiled, laughing wetly, still crying. “You’ll find out, later. You’ll find out..”

Karina walked Ning out of the warehouse. You and Giselle trailed behind, still a few paces away. The bus was parked right outside, filled with people.

Karina hugged Ning, whispered something to her which made Ning clench her fists and cry harder— you don’t know from what.

Ning got on the bus with a smile, crying— though you still didn’t know why— and waved goodbye.

You looked to Giselle, confused, watching the bus continue on, further down the street, already maybe a mile or two away from you. “What was that abou-”

your ears rang. You heard it before it registered.

the bus had exploded.

there was carnage, everywhere. Parts of it had been thrown into different buildings. There were body parts strewn across the street, a crater in the asphalt, fire, along the metal— cars had been crushed, it was now chaos in the streets. You had almost been pushed back from the force, nicking yourself with the small, sharp pieces of metal. Karina was still standing, her suit dusty and filled with ash.

“Karina, what- what did you do?” you cried, confused and distraught yet again, feeling the tears build in your eyes.

Karina cooed, crouching down over you, thumbing the skin under your eye. “Oh, mi amor, don’t cry,” she reassured. “Ning was working with the Americans. The man in the warehouse knew, and was helping her sneak information along our supply chain! Don’t worry, the traitor is gone,” she ran a hand through your now dirty hair, cleaning a cut on your face with her finger. She smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, speaking lowly into your ear.

“I’m tired of these Americans trying to ruin my business. They keep putting themselves where they don’t belong. Don’t worry, mi cielo, you’ll be safe as long as you’re loyal to me, and as long as you listen. I know you will. Because you’re trustworthy, aren’t you?” She smiled, looking down at you.

you nodded, dazed. Karina had just killed Ning. Ning was dead. You had to get out of here. You figured hundreds were injured. You had to leave.

Giselle was even farther back, looking at Karina with contempt.

you didn’t notice, though. You were too busy watching the flames dance in the street.

1987, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 9:46 P.M Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel

it had been almost a year since the incident.

ever since Ning died, things had been different. Minjeong had been quieter, and angrier. Everything set her off, she came back covered in blood most of the time. You didn’t want to ask where she’d been— you’d just sit with her, quietly. Sometimes you heard her cry at night.

Giselle had been even more cagey, always out, defensive, on high-alert constantly.

and Karina.. well, you’d been spending a lot of time with Karina. You knew she was bad, you did, but there was something about her. It was just something about her, something that drew you in, and you hated yourself for it.

like right now. You were in her office, again, as she kissed you hungrily, hands gripping your hips in a bruising grasp.

your mind drifted. You reported back to DAS every so often, but you did inform them that you had to be very careful, that your reports would be sporadic. Truthfully, they didn’t event think you’d make it this far, do they were okay with waiting. They seemed to have several informants, anyway.

”y/n,” Karina growled, lowly, sucking and biting harshly at your neck. “You seem distracted. Focus on me, no? You promised you’d help me..” she murmured, almost a pleading sound to her voice. You weren’t stupid, though. Karina didn’t beg, she didn’t plead. This was mocking. You sucked it up, though.

you tried to focus on her, you did, but everything was beginning to get to you. DAS weighed heavily on your mind, and Minjeong’s grief did, too, and Giselle’s odd behavior, her accent, even the way she dressed— she didn’t seem like she was from here. She didn’t seem like she’d been her a long while.

“Y/n,” Karina snapped, annoyed. “Focus, will you? Or maybe you’ll end up like that bastard traitor,” she remarked, acidly, far too much emotion for the situation. Karina had been angrier lately, too. It must be the stress of the betrayal. Surely that’s why— it shook her to her core that there was a rat in her ranks. She had gotten paranoid.

the mention of Ning made you emotional, though. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

she looked down, and let out a laugh. “Oh, I love when you cry, baby,” she grinned, voice rough. “It makes you look so good. But not right now.. maybe in a bit. Stop being such a pussy,” she instructed, to which you nodded shakily.

and like that is how your work went, for a bit.

it wasn’t until late 1988 everything began to change.

Karina had been busy, lately. A lot of men came to her office, ones you didn't recognize and some you did, vaguely, from other meetings.

Karina had been overtly paranoid about informants— It was a miracle she hadn't discovered you, yet— or maybe she had. Maybe she was just waiting for the right time, playing with you, maybe-

"Y/n!" She called, in a sing-song tone.

You entered her office, quietly.

"I need your help for another job. A big one. If you do this, then it'll officially make you a part of us! Isn't that fantastic, baby?"

Karina had her hands on your hips, the same practiced smile she always wore on her face.

"Yes.. fantastic, it really is," you replied, in a murmur. "But what will I be doing?"

"You know the DAS building, here, in Bogotá? Well, amor, we'll be getting rid of it,"

"rid of it?" You tried to school your expression, but the shock and horror was plainly visible on your face. You felt sick.

"Rid of it. As in, you know— the building. I have a few ways to make sure it stays gone for quite a while. It’ll take nearly a year, I predict, but it’ll get done. You’ll be going to a few meetings with Giselle and me to make sure you can help. Is that okay, y/n?” She asked, in a faux-concerned tone. You both knew she wasn��t asking whether or not you’d do it, you had to. It was a rhetorical question. You would say yes, either way.

“Yes. It’s.. it’s fine,” you murmured.

“Good. Now, you can go. I’m sure there’s something for you to do to make yourself useful around here,”

MEETING ONE 1988, Medellín, Colombia Local time: 4:52 P.M. Location: a small town up in the mountains; el campo Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Driving with Giselle was really not a good time. The songs on the radio were good, though.

the other girl was so frustrated, for some reason.

“Giselle,” you chanced. “I don’t mean to pry, but seriously— why are you so.. stressed?”

“We’re about to blow up Colombia’s national security headquarters, I think anyone would be stressed,”

You eyed her, not quite convinced.

“You know, anytime we carry out a job you’re so on edge,” you commented. she whipped her head around, knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Are you accusing me of something, y/l/n?”

“No,” you replied, slowly. “Not at all,”

the meeting took place up in the mountains.

the negotiations were mostly handled by Giselle, but she looked nearly ready to scream.

“We’re paying you what you’ve asked, just give us the supply,” she repeated, voice low.

“I think it’s fair to ask for a little more, linda,”

Giselle was seething. Honestly, these men had rifles, machine guns— you weren’t about to fight them. you took out your pistol.

you pointed it right at the 500kg of dynamite.

“Take the money,” you instructed, eyes wide. You looked crazed, most likely.

they stared at you.

“I said take the FUCKING MONEY! You think I won’t do it? We can add on 130,000 more pesos, but that’s it.”

They agreed.

Giselle was silent, in the car drive. You stared at your hands.

“You would’ve done it,” she murmured.

“I would have,” you agreed, and it came with a sick sense of realization. You would have killed everyone in there, including yourself. You would have done it. Who were you? What had you become?

Giselle laughed, one of the only times you had ever seen her show a positive emotion.

“Oh, God,” she snickered. “You really didn’t think when you signed up for this, huh?” She commented. Your eyes widened, but you schooled them back into place.

no, she couldn’t mean what you thought. She couldn’t.

“Careful, baby,” she hummed. “You don’t wanna become something you can’t come back from,”

well, that’s fucking ominous.

Your next meeting was scheduled in the following weeks. You felt like Giselle was.. watching you. Her gaze never left you, but whenever you looked back, she was always just staring out a window, or at something on the wall. It was unnerving.

The second meeting went smoothly, but ended late. Giselle was driving once again, smoking.

“Do you have another?” You asked, suddenly, glancing at her against the dark backdrop of the night.

“Another what?” She questioned, looking over at you for only a moment, before focusing on the old, pot-hole filled road again.

“A cigarette. And a light,” you clarified, holding out a hand.

“I have a cigarette,” she confirmed, handing you one. “But no light. Sorry,” she shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

“Oh, fuck off Giselle. Just light it with yours,”

She rolled her eyes. “Why should I? Don’t you have a lighter?”

“I didn’t bring my lighter, I didn’t think I needed it,” you shot back.

She sighed, annoyed, but complying. She kept one hand on the wheel, barely glancing at the road, lit cigarette half in her mouth, being held in place by her hand. You kept your own firmly between your lips, not wanting it to fall.

she pressed the lit end to your own, eyes dark, and you couldn’t help but stare into them.

the end finally caught a spark, lighting up, and you both stared for a second more before breaking away.

You took a long drag, averting your eyes from her gaze, glad the dark of the night would hide your blush.

“Thanks,” you muttered, gazing out into the fields.

“Don’t mention it,”

MEETING THREE 1988, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 2:31 A.M. Location: Karina’s office Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

It happened so very late, and you struggled to stay awake. You felt your eyes closing, but Giselle would push you, and you’d spring back up.

Karina was arguing with a man about the price of the job. She was aggravated, he wasn’t taking the accepted offer.

The meeting had started off very casual— she even offered him some of their supply. You didn’t take any, neither did Giselle, but Karina and the man each did a line, snorting it off the table.

You watched the cross that hung from her neck dangle along the table, occasionally tapping the wood. The other man wore one as well, as did Giselle, as did you— you felt just a bit guilty about it. Hopefully, He’d forgive you for your wrongdoings. Hitmen prayed to God and so did drug lords— as did nuns, priests, politicians— all prayed, all believed. At least, most did. They claimed so.

You were shaken from your thoughts by a loud crash. Karina had pushed the man against the wall, yelling, now— “¡Me estás sacando la piedra!”

Giselle never said anything like that. Come to think of it, she cursed under her breath, you weren’t even sure what language it was. you shouldn’t be thinking of Giselle, though, not when this man seemed like he would die. That shook you out of your stationary position.

you jumped up, rushing towards her. “Karina! Karina, let him go!” You demanded, trying to pull her off. Giselle followed suit, prying her off him. Karina was panting, she looked crazed. Blood trickled out of her nose, and you wondered how much of her supply she was doing.

“You don’t understand,” she growled, clutching her desk. “Just take the money,” she began, again, and the man finally nodded. She practically threw the money at him, watching as he scrambled out. She let out a frustrated sound, slamming her hands on the desk.

“Giselle, get out. Y/n. Stay,” she demanded, not turning around.

Giselle hesitated, for a moment, it was barely noticeable.

but she left.

Karina turned to you, and like so many times before— you were truly, deeply scared. And yet..

you fell right back into her, letting her kiss you, use you, until she was fine again.

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 3:13 A.M. Location: An old, unused road in the mountainside Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

The meetings happened in quick succession. They took place all throughout the rest of 1988, and into early 1989. It wasn’t until September that things really began to change.

Minjeong was always out. She avoided Karina, and only spoke with Giselle sparsely.

You and Giselle were in the car, currently. The final meeting had just occurred, and the both of you had gotten tired of driving.

you were both just sitting there, with the car off. Giselle spoke, suddenly.

“How do you do it?” She questioned. “How do you put up with her?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Karina. I just.. sometimes, she’s too much. Especially lately. She’s paranoid,”

“I don’t know, I just-” you couldn’t say it was because it was your job. You couldn’t say it was because a part of you wanted her. You weren’t sure how to even reply to that. “I just do,”

Giselle seemed like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth. It was silent till she spoke again. “I don’t understand you. I mean, you’re like me, but.. you’re just so.. different— naive,”

“I am not naive!” You protested, even though you knew very well you were.

“Yes you are! I know you’re- I-” she wasn’t being very coherent, aggravated, fingers flexing like she was antsy.

“I’m what? What am I? Just spit it out, Giselle! I’m tired of-”

She cut you off, kissing you. You were surprised, for a moment, but quickly reciprocated. Her fingers curled in your hair, pulling you closer. You braced yourself on the dash, trying not to touch the wheel or anything else that could move the car.

“You’re so fucking infuriating,” Giselle muttered, pulling you into the backseat with her. “You just have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

You panted, now slightly confused. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she groaned, pulling you closer once again.

She pulled you onto her lap, and you snaked your hands into her hair, tugging at it, blunt nails scratching at her scalp.

You didn’t really feel bad about it, is what you’d realize later, when you were driving back in silence.

You kind of wanted her to do it again.

You and Giselle didn’t talk about anything that had happened. Partly because you didn’t want to, and partly because you feared what Karina would do if she found out. The weeks leading up to what you found to be a tragedy were tense. Minjeong was out more often than not, as was Giselle. You couldn’t warn anyone, because Karina had such a close eye on you, lately. She just wouldn’t leave you alone.

December came quicker than you would wish.

It was night when you heard Minjeong speaking to Karina.

“Jimin, you can’t do this,” she murmured, lowly, voice laced with an unseen anger.

“Why are you so tense, Minjeong? I thought you always agreed with me..” she sighed, and you could hear her walking through the thin walls.

“I can’t let you kill so many people, it’s just- it’s insane! You’re being irrational— you’ve snorted half of your own fucking supply!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Karina— Jimin, you’ve learned— spat, and the unmistakable sound of a slap resounded through the warehouse, Karina breathing hard. You heard a struggle, and panting. “I’ll kill you, Minjeong, don’t think I won’t. I’ve kept you around out of pity— and of course, you’ve always been so obedient. Why are you so hellbent on rebelling now?” She whined, in a mocking manner.

“You killed Ningning— how am I supposed to be loyal to someone who kills her own men?” Minjeong replied, voice breathy, as if she couldn’t breathe.

There was silence.

“You’ll learn. Now, leave here. If you argue against me again, I’ll feed you to the wolves,” Jimin growled, and the sound of Minjeong hitting the floor was heard all throughout the warehouse. “Get out of my sight,”

1989, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: a safehouse for the cartel Objective: Find the key members of the cartel.

Karina was, and always will be, a mystery.

you had found out now that Karina’s name was Yu Jimin. You had asked Minjeong, shortly after what happened. You went to sleep, and awoke to the sound of the radio, blaring.

“El edificio del Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad ha sido bombardeado.”

you woke up with a start. You knew it’d happen. But there was a sense of true hatred, in that moment.

you walked out of your room.

you walked into Karina’s office.

“Yu Jimin,”

she whipped around, smile morphing into a frown in seconds.

“How do you know that name?”

“Minjeong,”

She saw the gun in your hand.

“Oh, won’t you put that down?”

You stared at her.

She smiled, then.

“You know, I knew you worked for them,” she began, nonchalantly.

“What?”

all that work, all that secrecy— it meant nothing, in the end? She knew, she always knew?

“I saw you searching for our names. You were just so.. you seemed like you’d work for the government. And then I found that little phone you had! It’s been disconnected for years. They haven’t received a single message,”

You stared, still, dumbfounded. Suddenly, this made it all the worse. She did this, forced you to help— knowing? You raised the pistol.

“Giselle,” Karina called, and the other girl appeared a few seconds later. She stared at the scene in front of her, looking between the two of you.

“Get rid of her for me, will you?” Karina dismissed, shrugging off the threat.

Giselle slowly took out her own gun. She pointed it at you, and yet—

“Yu Jimin, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking, terrorism, murder, smuggling, and-”

“What? What are you talking about?” Her eyes widened, as she shot up to her feet, gripping at her desk.

“My name is Aeri Uchinaga. I work for the FBI-”

“It was you!” She shrieked, nearly mad. “You were the mole? But you- you’ve killed in my name! Won’t you be implicit?”

“I’ll be pardoned by the state, most likely,” she informed.

it all made sense now. The strange accent, the tray she was so tense, constantly— you were a bit proud of yourself for noticing all the off things about her, but now was not the time.

you stared at Karina. You wanted to shoot her.

“She could leave,” you pointed out.

Giselle glanced over at you. “She could,”

you aimed at her leg. Just a bit off from the major artery in the thigh.

a click.

The aftermath was severe. The building was destroyed, most of your department had dissolved. Minjeong was working with the police, you had found out— although you hadn’t heard from her since the arresting.

you weren’t sure what to do, anymore. You had dedicated so much to this— and it was all for nothing. Essentially, you had failed.

You were currently living with Aeri, actually. You were a valuable witness— you had seen and done things that would hopefully be able to incriminate Karina, more than all the other records there was of her actions.

Aeri wasn’t as mean as she had been. She was actually quite quiet— but not mean. You two spoke about it. A lot had happened, and you both lived through it. You could relate to each other.

it would take time, though.

1993, Bogotá, Colombia Local time: 11:13 A.M. Location: Washington, D.C. Objective: . . .

It had been 4 years since Yu Jimin had been arrested. She was facing many, many charges— although you tried not to keep up with the news. There was to much going on.

currently, you were with Aeri. You and Aeri had gotten much closer in the following years— how could you not? You spent almost every waking moment together.

Aeri had some work to do, so you were waiting. It was quite simple, really.

You had been offered a position, here— in D.C. You’d work on other jobs, similar to this, but far more investigative. It sounded.. good. You’d like to help people, thats alway’s something you’ve wanted.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by Aeri.

“Hey,” she called, to get your attention. “Let’s go, they’ve got some questions to ask you before you can get hired. You know how government jobs are,” she shrugged, leading you down a winding hallway.

“Yeah,” you replied, your hand in hers. “They kind of suck,”

“They do,” she agreed, with a sigh. “They kind of do,”

A/N: I HATE HOW THIS CAME OUT 😭😭 it took me so long but it’s done. I kind of just wanted to get it over with. I don’t have much to say, honestly I might delete this. I had a good idea for it but just couldn’t find the words to execute it. sorry </3 expect a better work soon. I’m hoping to finish up some less heavy ideas before returning to my cold war AU. In any case, asks are appreciated, and I’m open to requests! thank you for reading this mess </3 also aeri being endgame is payback for you (aettudae) making her married to a man in honeycomb. that should be ME.

EXTRA: when you read ‘mi amor’ keep in mind I’m imagining to pronounced like one word, so more like ‘mia-mor’. ‘mia’ kind of sounds like ‘mya’. this will make sense to spanish speakers.

#carpmasterlist #carps works #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #aespa imagines #gg x reader #girl group imagines #giselle x reader #giselle x fem reader #aeri x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader

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cjlouwho · 3 months ago

Text

The Things I Cannot Change

I made this post a couple days ago then had to write a fic about it. Enjoy! Read below or on ao3.

“Wait a minute, you're datin' Kinard?” Gerrard asked mid-swing. He had taken Buck out to Topgolf as a thank you for saving his life. Although, Buck still wasn't sure that was actually his intention at the time.

“Yes, Sir,” Buck replied, steeling himself for whatever was going to come out of the man's mouth next.

“He got a sister or something?”

“No, Sir.”

“Didn't think so.” Gerrard planted his feet and swung, unsatisfied by where the ball landed. “So you're a... one of those?”

“Bisexual, yes.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Oh, you swing both ways? Interesting, interesting. You didn't hear about all that back in my day, Buckley. The world has definitely changed.”

“We've always existed,” Buck replied, a part of him wondering why he didn't shove Gerrard to the ground just a little bit harder.

They each took another turn before Gerrard spoke again. “Kinard,” he said, contemplatively. “Gotta say, don't see you two matching.”

Buck closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before turning to Gerrard. “Why's that?”

“Don't get me wrong, Buck, he was a great firefighter when he worked under me. Dotted his I's, crossed his T's. But he wasn't always that way. There's a lot about him...” He shook his head. “Hm. What am I saying, I'm sure you know everything about him anyway, right?”

“Y- yeah,” Buck replied. He knew Gerrard's mind games. Knew better than to fall for it. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

He walked over to his golf carrier, straightening the firefighter club cover.

“That Operation Thunderbolt was something else, wasn't it?” Gerrard asked.

It took everything in Buck's power to not start asking questions. “Mhm.”

“Mistakes like that can't happen in the firefighting world. Told Kinard as much when he started. Damn, he was a mess back then.” Gerrard let out a laugh. “I whipped him into shape real good. Made him who he is.”

“Mm, yeah. I- I'm sure.”

“That Thunderbolt though,” Gerrard sucked in a breath. “Not good, Buckley. Not good.”

*****

“I think Gerrard is still playing mind games with me,” Buck said to Eddie as he plopped down on the couch. It was a rare shift they had without Gerrard, meaning they could actually sit down and relax.

“Of course he is,” Eddie replied, not bothering to look up from the magazine he was reading. “He took you golfing, Buck. And to lunch, twice.”

“Yeah, but it's more than that now. He, uh, he found out I'm dating Tommy.”

Eddie peered over his magazine at that, eying Buck closely. “He found out? How'd that happen?”

“I... kinda told him.”

“And you think that was a wise decision?”

Buck sat up straighter. “It was the only decision, Eddie. He asked if I was seeing anyone. I- I wasn't gonna lie and say no, or- or make it seem like I was seeing a woman just to make him-”

Eddie raised a hand to stop him. “Buck, not judging. Just asking.”

“Right, well,” he settled into the couch again, clearing his throat. “He knows now.”

“And?”

“And he said he didn't see us matching.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Big surprise there. You can't let him bother you, Buck. Gotta let that stuff roll right off ya.”

“Yeah, I- I did. But, he just... Do you think I know everything about Tommy?”

“I don't know,” Eddie answered, confused. “I'm not a fly on your wall, Buck, I don't know what you two talk about.”

“But, generally speaking, do you think I know him? Because, he knows all my stuff. Like, Daniel, and my parents, and the way I acted when I was younger to get attention. He knows all the different versions of Buck, ya know? And I just, I don't know if I know all his versions.”

“I don't think you ever really stop getting to know someone, Buck. You might think he knows all about you, but I'm sure you surprise him every day.”

Buck sighed. “I'm talking the big stuff, Eddie, not whether or not I enjoy whipped cream being licked off me-”

“Okay, no.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I don't know what you want from me, Man. What are you trying to get at?”

“Gerrard mentioned something to me about Tommy that I've never heard of, and I have no idea if he's is lying or not.”

“If it's about Tommy, I'd say he's probably making something out to be worse than it is. Gerrard doesn't seem to fond of the guy.”

Buck nodded. “Yeah. No, no, yeah, I- I agree.”

“So, all good now?”

“Mhm. Yeah, all good. It was stupid anyway.” He grabbed a book from the coffee table, flipping to a random page. “Something about Tommy's time in the army. Operation Thunderbolt,” he shrugged. “I'm sure it's nothing.”

He wasn't sure what made him look up. He hadn't expected Eddie to respond anyway. But when he did glance over at him, he saw Eddie with his eyes practically frozen as he stared at a spot on the wall. Buck knew that look.

Avoidance.

“Eddie?”

Buck's voice seemed to break him out of his trance. He returned to his magazine, eyebrows furrowed. He clearly wasn't reading the article in front of him.

“Eddie?” Buck repeated, louder this time. “Do... Do you know something?”

There were a few more seconds of silence, Eddie's lips pursed as he tried to think of what to say. “I... Buck, it's not really my place.”

Now Buck was worried. “So it's true? There was an Operation Thunderbolt?”

“Buck, I'm not gonna do this,” Eddie said as he stood. He dropped his magazine down on the coffee table and went to walk away. “You need to leave it alone.”

Buck followed him. “Hey, I was your friend first,” he said. And yeah, maybe that was childish, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

Eddie swirled around, nearly knocking into Buck. “That's not fair, and it's not gonna work. If it's gonna bother you so much, talk to Tommy yourself. But I'm warning you, you need to leave it alone.”

When Eddie walked away, Buck didn't follow.

He trusted Eddie. Knew there had to be a good reason he wouldn't get into it.

He'd do what Eddie said.

He'd let it go.

He would.

He would really try to let it go.

*****

He couldn't let it go.

He headed to Tommy's place after work. Tommy had been promising to make his infamous chicken pot pie, the one everyone at the 217 was obsessed with, and tonight was the night.

The food was in the oven, and they were on the couch. Some show was playing on the TV, but it was mainly on for background noise while they made out.

It was kind of a tradition of theirs. Kiss while dinner cooked and then pick up where they left off after they were done eating.

But this time was different, because the words Operation Thunderbolt kept flashing through Buck's mind. Gerrard's voice telling Buck he was sure they knew everything about each other. Eddie's face when he brought up the operation. How closed off he became, how he avoided Buck for the rest of the day.

“Okay,” Tommy said, pulling away. “What's wrong?”

Buck tried to look dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“I did that thing with my tongue that always makes you jump in my lap and you didn't even react. What's wrong?”

Buck shook his head, straightening out his shirt. “N- Nothing. I just... I think I'm tired from work is all.”

Tommy tilted his head. “Evan.”

“It's nothing, really. Let's just,” Buck tugged at Tommy's shirt, trying to bring him in for another kiss, “let's keep going. I'll react this time.”

As Buck attempted to pull Tommy closer, Tommy leaned his head back and wrapped his hands around Buck's wrists, stopping him. “Evan, come on. Be honest with me.”

And those were quite possibly the worst set of words Tommy could have chosen, because it took Buck from worried to angry in under a second.

“Honest?” He practically jerked his hands away from Tommy. “You want me to be honest with you?”

“It is the best policy.”

Buck scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course you'd think this is a joke.”

“Evan, I'm not really sure what this is at all. I'd love it if you could fill me in though.”

“It's... It's,” Buck stood, hands on his hips, “It's a lot of things, Tommy.”

“Starting with...?”

“I went golfing with Gerrard a couple days ago.”

Tommy nodded. “I remember. You didn't talk much about it though. Did something happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“Okay. What was it?”

“Doesn't matter,” Buck replied, beginning to pace back and forth. Just a few steps in one direction before turning back around.

“Obviously it does.”

“Eddie told me to let it go.”

“That doesn't seem to be happening. Come on, Evan.” Tommy stood, grasping onto Buck's arm to stop his pacing. “I'm serious. Talk to me.”

Buck stared him down. Looked deep into his eyes like he was trying to get direct access to his soul.

“Operation Thunderbolt.”

He'd never seen two words cause such an instant and dramatic shift in a person before. All the color drained from Tommy's face. His expression fell to nothing, mouth slightly open in shock. He looked like he was about to vomit, or pass out one.

A part of Buck wished he would have left it alone. Never let the words leave his mouth and dropped it like Eddie said.

The other part of Buck was still angry, and wanted to keep pushing his buttons. Wanted to find out why Eddie got to know parts of Tommy that Buck didn't get to know.

Tommy took a couple steps back, until his shins hit the couch and he could sit down again.

“E- Evan, I-”

“You know, I'm not even pissed that I don't know what the hell those words even mean. I'm pissed because I'm apparently the only one who doesn't know.”

Tommy's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He stared straight ahead, unable to even look in Buck's direction. “I really... I can't talk about this right now, Evan.”

“You mean you can't talk about it with me. Apparently you can yack it up with Gerrard and Eddie.”

Tommy unclenched his fists, resting them over his bouncing knees. “Gerrard knows about that because it's why I was discharged from the army. It was on my record and he talked to me about it when I first started at the 118.”

Buck crossed his arms over his chest. “And Eddie?”

The question came out accusatory. He hated that Eddie knew a part of Tommy that he didn't.

“Eddie was in the army.” Tommy finally managed to look up at Buck. His eyes were red-rimmed, filled with an emotion Buck had never seen from the man before. “He understands it.”

“And I don't?”

“No,” Tommy replied honestly. “No, you don't, Evan. And I'm really glad you don't.”

“I've told you everything about me, Tommy! All the bad stuff, all the embarrassing stuff! I thought you'd done the same, but apparently I'm the only one really in this relationship.”

Tommy's eyes darkened. He stood back up, chest heaving. “Do not try and compare stealing fire engines for sex to what I did.”

“I don't even know what you did, Tommy!” Buck exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. “Did you fly to the wrong place? Disobey orders? Get a slap on the wrist from a commanding officer? Someone find out you were-”

“I killed an entire family!” Tommy yelled, causing Buck to jump back ever so slightly. He'd never heard Tommy raise his voice before.

“Wh- What?”

“Thunderbolt was a codename for an operation in Iraq. We were supposed to take out a terrorist cell,” Tommy explained, speaking quickly. “Target was confirmed so I fired. Not even a second later I hear abort, abort, abort in my headset, but it was already too late. Intel was bad, I ended up directing a missile to an innocent family. Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and ten kids. I killed an entire bloodline, Evan.”

“T- Tommy-”

“They're just heat signatures on a monitor, Kinard, nothing more. That's what my commanding officer told me. But I couldn't let it go. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I was a mess. They gave me an honorable discharge and a damn medal for killing those people.”

“I didn't-”

“Sometimes I think about it too much,” Tommy continued, ignoring Buck's interruptions. “One day Eddie was coming over for Muay Thai and I could barely get myself up off the couch. He knew something was wrong and we started talking. I don't have many friends, Evan, and Eddie is the first I've had that was in the army. It's easy to talk to him about this stuff because I don't feel like I have to explain myself over and over again or worry that he's going to think I'm a monster.”

“I don't think you're a monster.” Buck's voice was small. He felt like he was two feet tall.

“I can tell when a person looks at me differently, Evan. Saw it the second I told you.”

“Yeah, because I was surprised! It's a lot to throw on a person!”

“I didn't want to throw it on you! I was gonna tell you eventually, but I didn't feel ready yet. Didn't know how to explain it to you.” Tommy stood, his nervous energy taking over. He walked past Buck and headed for the door. “I can't do this right now. I need to go.”

“This is your house, Tommy. I'll go.”

“No, I need to get out.” He grabbed his coat and his keys. “Can you turn off the oven for me, please?”

“Tommy, come on, please don't leave mad. I'm sorry, okay?”

Tommy paused, the door half open. “Not mad, Evan. You definitely don't need to apologize to me. I just... I can't. You have a key. Lock up when you leave.”

*****

Buck gave Tommy twenty-four hours before sending a text.

Can I come over to talk please?

He waited thirty minutes before trying again.

Tommy, I don't think you're a monster, and I'd like to apologize to you in person. I know I threw that on you and I shouldn't have.

Still nothing.

So, he tried calling. It rang seven times before it went to voicemail.

“Tommy, I just wanna talk. I- I know I probably deserve the silent treatment but... I just wanna talk. Call me back, please.”

Buck was not known for his patience. It took everything within him to not get in his car and drive to Tommy's place right then and there.

But he didn't want to smother Tommy, at least not more than he already had. He waited an hour, then started getting ready for bed. He had to be at work early tomorrow, and if Tommy wasn't ready to talk yet, he'd respect that.

It was the least he could do.

When he woke up for work the next day and had no missed messages or calls from Tommy, he worried.

He had half expected to hear something from him during the night.

When he got to work, he made a beeline for Eddie, who was putting some things into his locker.

“Eddie, have you heard from Tommy in the past couple days?”

“Good morning to you too, Buck. My time off was great, thanks for asking.”

“Come on, I'm serious. Have you heard from him?”

Eddie closed his locker door and turned to Buck. “I thought you were spending your time off with him?”

“We had a... a thing.”

“A thing?”

“A fight,” Buck clarified. “Sort of. A fight-ish.”

“A... A fight-ish? Would this fight-ish have to do with Gerrard and a certain military operation?”

Buck shrugged. “Maybe. Possibly you too.”

“Me?!” Eddie exclaimed. “Why me?”

“Listen, I got a little angry over the fact you seem to know Tommy better than I do and I may have expressed as much, okay? And yes, I mentioned the operation, and kind of forced him into explaining, which may have sent him spiraling. He said he wasn't mad, but he has a way of saying that instead of letting me apologize for things and now he won't answer me and I'm afraid he's actually mad or-”

“Breathe,” Eddie interrupted, patting Buck on the shoulder. “I haven't heard from him. Honestly, though, if he told you about Thunderbolt, he's probably not doing great right now.”

Buck flopped down onto one of the benches, his legs stretching out in front of him. “I really screwed up, Eddie.”

“I'm the king of screw ups, Man,” Eddie replied, sitting beside him. “You haven't done anything that can't be fixed. For what it's worth, he was always planning on telling you. It's just a tough one for him to talk about without spiraling.”

Buck glared over at him. “You're really not helping.”

“You've got a twelve today too, right?”

Buck nodded.

“I'll text him, see if he answers. You head over after work. It'll work out. Don't worry.”

*****

Worry was all Buck did the entire day. Especially after Eddie sent his third text and got no response. Even he thought it was strange, which made Buck worry even more.

He couldn't get to Tommy's fast enough after his shift. He hurried over, not hesitating to use his key to get inside.

“Tommy?” he called out apprehensively. “Are you here?”

He knew Tommy had to be there. His car was in the driveway and he always left his door unlocked when he went for a run, much to Buck's dismay.

He headed for the living room first, then the kitchen.

“Tommy?” he called again before heading to the bedroom.

No lights were on in the house, and the sun had nearly set, making it difficult to see. When he pushed open the cracked bedroom door, he could barely see the outline of Tommy lying in bed, covers pulled up to his neck. His blackout curtains were drawn, making the room nearly pitch black.

Buck entered the room cautiously. “Tommy, y- you awake?”

“Mmm,” he grunted. “Yeah.”

“I've been worried,” he said, toeing off his shoes before crawling onto the bed. “I tried calling and texting. Eddie did too.”

“Haven't been by my phone,” Tommy mumbled into his pillow.

Buck settled into his usual side of the bed, keeping some space between them. “Is this... Is this about our fight? I really am sorry for pushing you, Tommy.”

“Not mad,” he replied, managing to roll over and curl into Buck's side. “Told you I wasn't mad yesterday.”

“It... It's been two days, Babe.”

He rested a hand over Buck's stomach, gripping the material of his shirt. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” Buck wrapped an arm around Tommy's back, letting his nails scratch up and down his spine. “I- Tommy, what's going on?”

“Tired.” He nestled his head further into Buck's waist. “Brain was thinking too much.”

“Oh.” Buck didn't know what to say. Didn't know the right words to make him feel better. He'd never seen Tommy like this before. It made him feel overwhelmed, and sad, and a little bit terrified. “You wanna talk about it?”

Tommy gripped even tighter. He was silent for a moment, breathing against Buck's body before he spoke quietly. “I killed people, Evan.”

God, Buck wanted to cry. “I- I know.”

“A whole family. Kids. I did that.”

“You didn't know, Tommy. It's not your fault.”

“That doesn't matter to them. They don't get to have a life because of me.”

Buck wanted to hold onto Tommy tighter, pull him all the way into his arms and hold him until the pain would go away.

But Tommy withdrew before Buck could even get his other arm around him. He turned back onto his other side, pulling the covers up until just his eyes and nose stuck out from under them. “I'm just tired, Hon. I'll be okay.”

*****

The next thing Tommy knew, he was being shook awake. The room was still dark, and he was pretty sure not much time had passed. “What? What time's it?”

“A little after eight,” Buck whispered, giving his shoulder another shake. “Get up, please.”

Tommy sighed. “Why? M'tired.”

“Because you have company.”

“I do?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Can you tell them to leave, Evan?”

“No. Get up.”

Tommy groaned, but forced himself to get out of bed. He took the hand Buck had held out for him, and let himself be led to the living room.

“Hey,” Eddie said from his spot on the couch. “You look like crap.”

“Eddie?” Tommy glanced back and forth between him and Buck. “What are you doing here?”

“Your boyfriend here called me and said you could use a friend.”

Buck gave Tommy's hand a squeeze to get his attention. “You're right,” he said. “I don't know the right thing to do or say to make you feel better. But I think he can.”

“Evan, I-”

Buck brought a hand to Tommy's face, brushing a thumb over his cheek. He leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. “I love you, Tommy, okay? All of you.”

“I don't know what to say, Evan.”

“Say pizza's on the way,” Eddie interrupted. “I'm starving.”

Buck laughed, rolling his eyes as he turned back to Eddie. “Pizza is on the way. I'm gonna head out to the gym for a couple hours.”

He went to let go of Tommy's hand, but Tommy pulled him back in for a hug. “Come back after?” he asked, his mouth brushing against Buck's ear.

Buck nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay.” Tommy pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Evan. I love you.”

Buck smiled, giving Tommy's hand a final squeeze before letting go. “See you two later. Save me a piece of pizza.”

“We'll see!” Eddie yelled out as Buck headed out the front door. He nodded at Tommy, who was still standing in the middle of the living room. “So, you ready to talk?”

Tommy only briefly hesitated before he walked over and sat on the opposite end of the couch, curling his knees up to his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, let's talk.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #i did not fully read this over please excuse any errors #oh also #eddie diaz #and #vincent gerrard

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lalalian · 13 days ago

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weird/uncommon genres | dr ideas

date: december 16, 2024

Im never making a joke again 😭 after talking to my friend abt it, i feel better, but im still too scared. I thought poop jokes were childish and funny, like “your mom” 😭 regardless, nobody's seeing a joke from me ever again unless it’s on tiktok-- just to be clear tho, even if I found it funny, if the other party didn't, obviously the fault relies on me

I saw a guy get canceled for saying “your mom” too— though tbf it’s bc in Confucian countries it’s really bad to joke about your parents

sjfhdhsks I wanna cry…

Anyway, I haven't done these in awhile; I'm not sure if yall like my aethergarde academy posts more, these kinds of posts, or both (equally).

it's been awhile-- here's some weird ass genres you could make a DR from.

disclaimer: I used chatgpt (out of curiousity for some of these genres, those genres are made up and are not actual terms. Italicized ideas are ones from chatGPT. Guys it's unfair how good chatgpt is getting.. my brother told me that the goal of the current model is to have the AI simulate proper critical thinking instead of simply spitting out information.. isn't that crazy)

futuristic

cli-fi - this genre delves not only into climate change itself, but issues relating to the sun disappearing, or the world freezing. I remember seeing a shifter somewhere saying that she shifted here bc in her previous reality climate change was getting really really bad.

social sci-fi - focuses on how humans interact and behave in a futuristic setting.

planetary romance - exploration of different planets + romance, especially with an alien. Also characterized by distinctive extraterrestrial cultures and backgrounds.

data gothic - cyberpunk x gothic horror; characters encounter malevolent AI beings, digital ghosts, and corrupted data streams.

cosmic agriculture - genre focused on growing plant life in outer space or on different planets. Can also including breeding alien organisms (bacteria).

psychic noir - solve crimes in a world where memories, emotions, and thoughts could be hacked, manipulated, or weaponized. I think I'd make the memory thing extremely hard to do, since if it was too common I think it'd cause way too much havoc.

eco-metamorphosis - kinda like alien stage, but if you'd like, it could be less dark. This genre centers around earth being colonized by aliens, but the goal isn't to reject these changes, but rather to coexist with the other species.

liminal

slipstream - "speculative fiction that blends together science fiction, fantasy, and literary fiction or does not remain in conventional boundaries of genre and narrative"

abandoned intentions - explore incomplete worlds-- as if the world was abandoned mid-creation.

fantasy

lost world - discovering a hidden civilization, like atlantis or lumeria.

subterranean - a world that is primarily in an underground setting; similar to the hollow earth theory.

mythic/mythopeia - "fiction that is rooted in, inspired by, or that in some way draws from the tropes, themes, and symbolism of myth, legend, folklore, and fairy tales."; very similar to my wandering apocathary dr.

oceanic

nautical fiction - relationship between humans and the sea; "human relationship to the sea and sea voyages and highlights nautical culture in these environment".

wholesome/cute

furry sleuth - this is not about furries-- this is essentially a mystery where the main character is a household animal, typically a dog. Said animal would be the detective and solve mysteries.

cashier memoir - this genre always takes place in the head of a cashier. The goal is to come across as many different kinds of people as possible. This would be incredibly boring in this reality, but imagine if you were a barista in a fantasy or futuristic reality... you'd come across a lot of people without much effort or mental strain.

epistolary - a story told exclusively through fictional letters, newspaper articles, emails, and even texts. This isn't necessarily a genre of DR, but I think it'd be really interesting to guess/assume the plot of a DR through short snippets of letters or texts.

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #lalalian #shifting blog #desired reality #shifters #shifting diary #shifttok #scripting #shifting ideas

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 17 days ago

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Lunch First

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

|| Warnings; reader speaks multiple languages, not a whole lot of dialogue, brief swearing and mentions of feeling nauseous/death but nobody dies, hints at smut at the end but nothing actually said

|| Summary; when taking a trip to New York, reader gets to show off her language skills! The girls are pretty damn impressed.

Started; December 12th

Finished; December 12th

Anon Request; Poly!plastics x fem!reader- r is polyglot (fluent in several languages) but the girls never knew until one day while they were all in the city R is approached by someone not speaking English, looking for directions, and they girls are confused, but r jumps straight into helping them. Then when the girls go out to lunch Gina wanted to go to an authentic Italian restaurant, and the restaurant owners are a family-friend to r, so r breaks out into her Italian when greeting the owners and when ordering. And the girls becoming shocked slightly turned on, because r knows yet another language. And then when the girls go shopping at whatever luxury clothing store they go to, r brings out another language. So they ask how many she knows, so r list all of the languages she’s fluent in, one of them being Hindi, and Karen’s like “So that’s why you’re my parents favorite” ~🌱

Author Note; appreciate the patience, 🌱 Anon! I know this one took a while to get out. Hope you like it 🫶 Accidentally posted it by mistake before it was done, whoopsie 😬

~~~

The plastics had taken you out to the big city for a little fun, the trip paid for by Regina. The four of you walked around New York together. Gretchen and Karen had their arms linked while you held Regina's hand. Worried about getting lost in the large crowds. You knew this city could get busy, even on their sidewalks. But clearly you'd underestimated just how busy. The movies never do it justice. You'd been here before too and every time it still shocked you.

That's when someone approached the four of you. Looking a little nervous, lost even. They were asking you for directions in a language that clearly confused your girlfriends but rolled effortlessly off your tongue. You told them where to go, helping them through the map they held. They thanked you before heading off in the direction you'd given. Your girls stared at you. What language even was that? Heck if they knew but damn. It sounded hot coming out of you. Regina instinctively pulled you a little closer to her. A possessive need to her touch. One that didn't go unnoticed by you.

The girls decided to leave their questions for now, after all the four of you were getting pretty hungry. So, you worked together to come up with some idea of a place you could go for lunch. Finding that to be more important. Besides, it wasn't unusual for someone to know more than one language. The plastics knew at least one other themselves.

"What about an authentic Italian restaurant?" Regina suggested, glancing at her phone to look at the places New York had to offer. Your shoulders relaxed at that one, you had family friends here who owned a restaurant like that. Part of the reason you'd been to New York before this trip was to visit them.

"That's perfect! I know a place," and now you were the one leading the way. It actually wasn't too far from where you were anyways, luckily enough. So, you went by foot.

Gretchen and Karen exchanged a glance with grins, both excited for this. They'd get to go to a fancy restaurant? Sign them up.

"Ooo, I bet it just looks the cutest!" Gretchen smiled, Karen giggled and nodded in agreement.

"I bet it will have plants!" Karen replied, both girls continued talking about their ideas of what the restaurant will look like. Regina occasionally throwing in her own idea. If only to amuse Gretchen and Karen, because you were focused on getting them there. Regina wasn't going to distract you. Not yet, anyway.

Getting there was easier than you'd thought it would be. You were glad you remembered the direction your parents had gone with you in. The doors opened with that familiar bell, being greeted by the host. Who was the son of the owner and one of your friends. He smiled when he recognized you. The two of you talking excitedly in Italian. He was surprised to see you, but happy nonetheless. Your girls found themselves shocked again. You knew Italian, too? At this point, what language didn't you know? They'd have to find a chance to ask you about it. Curiosity winning the battle against them. Lunch first, though.

When lunch was done, you and the girls took some photos. You made sure to have a long catch up conversation with your family friends. All of them happy to see you and meet the plastics. Having heard quite a bit about them before.

It wasn't long until you and your girlfriends were onto the next thing. Shopping! A personal favourite to your girls. This time Regina led the way. She knew where all the fancy spots were in New York. She was going to hit as many as she could before nightfall.

Regina led them everywhere. By this point, your feet were honestly starting to kill you. You weren't even in heels, unlike Regina and Gretchen. Seriously. You didn't know how they did it. You'd be dead if that were you.

"We have to go to this one!" Regina pointed to a store that's name was written in French. You wondered if it would be French owned. Regina dragged the three of you inside. The shop was stunning. Way out of your own pay grade, that's for damn sure. Some of the prices in here made you feel nauseated at the thought. Regina, however, seemed to be in perfect bliss. Rich people. You shook your head at the thought, though it was a little amusing.

"Baby, come here! This would look stunning on you!" Regina called you over with an impatient hand wave. You followed her over, looking at the outfit she picked out for you. Your mouth went dry at the price. Jesus, fuck.

"Ah! Celui-ci fait partie de notre collection vintage! Aimez-vous?" The employee asked with a smile, you looked to her with a nod.

Translation; This one is part of our vintage collection! Do you like it?

"C'est bluffant!" You chatted with the employee, her telling you everything about the outfit. Answering the questions you had for her. Speaking in fluent French. Regina stood next to you, wide eyed. She could only catch a few words here and there. French was never her strong subject, that's for sure.

Translation; it's stunning!

When you were done talking with the employee, you looked to Regina. Who was eyeing you with more interest than usual. Even Gretchen and Karen had popped their heads around the corner when they heard your voice speak yet another language.

"Okay, this is just getting stupid. How many languages do you know?" Regina asked.

You had to actually think about it before you gave them a pretty big list," oh. And I speak Hindi too," you finished.

Karen seemed to come to an understanding at that last bit," so that's why you're my parents favourite."

You shrugged, feeling a little proud at all the languages you could speak. Especially with the bedroom eyes it earned you from Regina.

"I think we can go back to the hotel now." Regina stated, Gretchen nodded in agreement. You were able to read between the lines of that and your cheeks flushed. Feeling that familiar heat.

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honeybubblebeeeeee · 1 year ago

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Toji is 100% the older, rich boyfriend that will throw money at any of your problems because he actually hates seeing you upset when it comes to finances.

Being a university student and working part time, you have a lot going on and a decent amount to pay for. You are not estranged from your parents per say but they aren't ones to help out either. You never ask for help because that's what you're used to but you also feel bad asking for money so you never will.

Toji came back to your shared apartment. He of course had to practically pry you out of your old sketchy apartment because you didn't want to 'burden' him. You had insisted on paying half of the rent, bills and groceries but Toji just wanted you to be comfortable. You had worn him down for groceries and paying your car and phone but that was it.

"Angel? You in here doll?" He hunted through the apartment looking for you. Finally he found you in the bedroom, hunched over your laptop quiet tears fell from your eyes.

Your eyes snapped to him when he came in the room. You forced a smile, sniffling. "Oh you're home early. How was work?" You spoke so nonchalantly as if you obviously weren't crying.

"Why are you crying?" Toji tried to see what was on your laptop but you snapped it shut and wiped your face.

"Oh, I'm not I just keep yawning." A very forced yawn came out of you and you wiped your eyes again.

He almost wanted to clap at your attempt to cover it up. You moved off the bed and went to walk past him to the bathroom but his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you against him.

"What's wrong doll? Tell me who's got you upset so I can fix that real quick." His mischievous smirk made you giggle through the sniffling.

"It's nothing. It's stupid anyway." He tilted your head up to look at him. "I don't care what it was angel. Tell me."

You knew he wouldn't relent. Sighing, you looked down at your hands as you spoke. "My school offered me a month abroad for a course.... but then I found out that my sponsor pulled my funding and now I don't know if I can afford it and I really wanted to go and ugh it's stupid. I just applied too so now I don't know whether to pull my application or try to make it work somehow." Toji's features softened as you rambled on. He did remember you telling him about all the abroad courses and he agreed then and now that you deserve to go.

He chuckled, cradling your head as he pulled you against his chest. "Baby, you have a sponsor still. You're going on that trip. So, stop the tears, alright?"

You sighed and tried to pull away from him. "I just told you I don't have a sponsor anymore."

Toji picked you up and threw you to the bed. You laughed as you bounced. "Close your eyes angel." You rolled your eyes at him before closing them.

You tried to focus on your hearing to tell what he was doing. You opened your eyes as you felt objects softly hit your skin.

"Toji!"

Toji was quite literally throwing money at you. Then after there was no more cash, he dropped a handful of different bank cards into your lap.

"Like I said, you're going. No more tears and I don't wanna hear any arguments or I'll go to your school and pay for it myself." He softly gripped your chin, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

~ ~ ~ ~

random draft i just never posted, am working on requests so THANK YOU SM FOR SENDING i just want them to be good so im taking my time <3

#fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jjk toji #jjk men #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #toji fluff #toji x you #toji x yn

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mischievousmoony · 5 months ago

Note

hello ! i saw that you were open for requests. could you do sick reader and james being the best bestfriend ever (and oblivious as hell) takes care of them? maybe they could be childhood friends so james doesn't realize that what he's doing in inherently romantic, like kissing reader's forehead to check their temp, giving his shoulder to them to lay on, sleeping in the same bed, and such.

AND even after reader is no longer sick, james still insist on spoon feeding them and acting like a helicopter mom.

- 🌱

what a lovely idea! thank you for the request <3 i love this because earlier this summer i had a nasty sinus infection for like 3 weeks :/ i wish i had a james potter then lol also i noticed you used they/them pronouns in ur req. im not sure if you wanted gn!reader, but i think it ended up being that way anyway. i didn't need to use pronouns, or even y/n, in this fic <3

𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.4k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, no use of y/n, no magic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was only an hour ago that you told James over the phone not to worry about you.

Now, he stands in your bedroom, having let himself into your flat with the spare key that you that keep at his parents' house for emergencies— which he uses very often, but hardly for emergencies.

"James," you complain in a nasally voice, "I'm going to get you sick."

He plants his hands on his hips and looks at you scrutinizingly. It reminds you of Euphemia when she would scold you and James as children, and truthfully, when she sometimes scolds you these days.

"Nonsense, my immune system is built like a tank."

"James," you whine further.

He ignores you as he approaches your bedside, frowning as he takes in your sickly appearance. He gently brushes away the sweat-drenched hair from your forehead.

"My poor thing," he comments before bending down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You don't feel terribly warm, but you look flushed," James' wrist swivels to press the back of his hand to your cheek, "Do you feel hot?"

"A- a little," you croak, knowing full well that a raging blush is the real culprit behind your reddening face.

James' frown deepens as he dives into his next area of concern, "Have you been eating? You hardly had anything in your fridge."

"I have enough peanut butter and jelly to get me through an apocalypse. Why were you in my fridge?"

"I had to put away the groceries."

Your eyebrows draw together, "What groceries!?"

"I bought you groceries," he says nonchalantly.

"Why would you buy me groceries!?"

James is suddenly sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, "It's not much. Mostly ingredients for the chicken soup I'm gonna make."

"Make? If you really must you could've just gotten a can of–"

"Eugh! I would never subject you to canned soup!"

You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"That processed shit is just going to make you feel worse," he adds.

"Does Effie know she's created a monster?" you mumble to the ceiling.

James' chuckles, "Look, I'm already here, I've already bought the food. Just let me make you a nice soup and then I'll get out of here." James raises his hands in the air to indicate his surrender to compromise.

Your head hurts too much to continue an argument that you know you won't win, so you relent and wave him off to the kitchen.

Before James leaves you, "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything before I go?"

"I'm fine."

"You sound stuffy. Is there a lot of pressure? Do you like a hot or a cold compress?"

You wince as you imagine a cold compress, feeling like that would make your headache somehow feel sharper against your brain.

"Hot."

James smiles, happy that you're beginning to give into his care, and disappears from your sight.

He returns with a warm, damp cloth and a paper shopping bag stuffed under his arm. He starts unloading his haul onto your night table.

"I brought you the nice tissues, the ones with the lotion so that they don't irritate your nose. And are you taking medicine? I wasn't sure what your symptoms were or what you usually take so I got stuff for everything. I've got nasal sprays, decongestants, cough syrups— which I'm pretty sure you hate so I bought lozenges too."

You watch despairingly as he sets medicine after medicine down.

"I took paracetamol an hour ago," you inform him.

"That's it? You could at least use the nasal spray then. Here, let me–"

You place a hand over his that fiddles with the cap of the spray, "I've got it. Just go make your soup."

James looks up from the little white bottle, "Oh yeah, sure." But he hesitates before he goes, "You want a lozenge though?"

You yield to James' incessant efforts, figuring he would feel better if you let him do something for you. You hold out your hand to accept the lozenge but as soon as he sees you nod, he is already set on removing its waxy wrap and popping it in your mouth himself.

At last, he presses the warm, damp cloth gently over your closed eyes and retreats to your kitchen.

He reappears every so often to rewarm the cloth that's over your eyes, bring you cups of water or herbal tea, and make sure that you're still comfortable. He's offered to fluff your pillows five times.

The next time he enters your bedroom, he's finally carrying a bowl of steaming soup, one of your dishcloths a barrier between his hands and the hot porcelain.

You sit and hold out your hands to accept the bowl.

"Oh, it's far too hot for you to hold," James says, choosing to ignore the fact that he is doing just fine holding it himself.

He plants himself on the edge of your bed and starts blowing on a spoonful of the savory soup.

"You can't be serious," you mutter, sniffling.

"Just lean back and relax," James instructs, "let me take care of you."

James looks at you with the roundest, most doe-like eyes can can muster. Oh, those stupid big brown eyes— it's impossible to resist them.

You let James feed you what just might be the best soup you've ever tasted. Rich flavors dance on your tongue and you try not to let your eyes flutter closed in bliss, but the enjoyment is written across your face anyway. He refrains from teasing you, feeling too much pity for your being unwell to make any fun.

"Is this helping any?" James checks, blowing on another spoonful of broth.

You hum affirmatively, "It's really nice," you murmur, letting the warmth of the soup spread across your chest.

A prideful smile finds its way onto James' lips.

After he he scrapes the last bit of soup onto the spoon and brings it to your mouth, he places the empty bowl onto your night table. You realize that you still need to thank him and you share words of gratitude as you wring out your neck.

"You alright?"

"A bit stiff from being cooped up in bed," you roll out your shoulders.

"Well, you needed your rest," James says, studying you. "Here, scoot up."

You look at him curiously as he helps you scoot forward. When he starts settling in behind you, your eyes round.

"James!"

You've lost count of how many times you've uttered his name in scolding today. Your face flushes crimson and you count yourself lucky that he at least can't see it this time.

James shushes you, and your protests die in your throat when his hands apply a satisfying pressure to your neck.

He can't help but chuckle, nor can he help seek your approval, "Helping?"

"Uh-huh," you sigh, your eyes fluttering closed, and you feel James' body rumble with laughter against you.

The coming days play out similarly, and you've quickly ceased protesting against him. James attends to your every need and casually showers you in affection day after day.

He even insists on staying over some nights, which you do protest against, as he means to sleep on your couch which is not even long enough for him to lay flat. But you need not worry about that, because when night falls he ends up dozing off next to you in bed, where he intended to only stay until you fell asleep.

In the mornings, neither of you seem to mind waking up in each others arms.

Within a few days, your health improves, but this doesn't stop James from continuing to tend to you.

"I haven't run a fever in days!" you protest as James' lips still against your forehead for several seconds.

"You never know," James mumbles against your forehead before pulling away.

You huff as you meet his eyes on his retreat, "I'm not sick anymore, James."

"You still sniffle sometimes," he shrugs, turning to collect the empty bowl on your night table, which he fed you fresh stew out of for lunch this afternoon.

You chuckle at his antics, "It's just a lingering sniffle, it will probably clear up by tomorrow. Besides, I hardly need someone taking care of me for that."

James pulls his lips into a timid line, feeling quite sheepish. He hides his face as he turns to leave your room with the dirty dish.

He tsks as he formulates an excuse for himself, "Or it means that your illness is coming back for a second round. What kind of friend would I be if I don't make sure it's gone before I set you loose?"

James makes his way to the kitchen to wash your dishes, seemingly unaware that he might enjoy taking care of you a bit more than a friend would. Or maybe he’s simply embraced the comfort of being exactly where he wants to be.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

#james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter drabble #james potter oneshot #james potter fic #james potter one shot #fluff #james potter x gn!reader #marauders #marauders fluff #marauders fic #james potter #james potter fanfic #gn!reader #muggle au #🌱

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withlovemark · 2 years ago

Text

to be loved - steve harrington

warning: mentions of steve's wounds, little angst! but it's a happy ending i promise

pairing: steve x reader

words: 2.3k+

summary: steve finally allows himself to believe in love again

an: i posted this a couple of days ago? and just now realized it got deleted. not really sure what happened there. anyways, found this in my drafts a week ago? (i have no concept of time). i didn't want to leave it rotting there so i wrote a quick ending and here you go. hope its okay!

three light taps, a knock that echoed throughout the boy’s dimly lit room, a sound enough to startle him after the events that have taken place in the past few days. not a single other person was in this house, a normality that he has accepted. steve’s parents were never around and he had no other relatives that would even care if he was still alive. his friends were a bunch of high schoolers, except for robin and…you.

he knows he’s messed it up with you. he can see it with the way you avoid his glances, the way you would choose to sit in the furthest chair away from him, the way you would get quiet when he was around and the way you stopped yourself from reaching out for him. the familiarity of your touch is no longer accessible, becoming only a memory. he can’t blame you though, your last words to him still replaying in his mind, loud and clear.

“i don't think i can do this anymore steve, i can't keep coming to your house, sleeping in your clothes, doing things that friends aren’t supposed to be doing, just for you to still be thinking about her.”

he’s about to roll over onto his bed. to sleep the remnants of the past away. to keep ignoring everything like he always does and get ready for a new day, pretending he was healed. that he was okay. he was not.

nowadays, it’s easier to slap a smile on his face instead of talking about his feelings. the last time he let himself truly feel something, he got his heart ripped out of his chest and trampled upon like it meant nothing, like it was a rock you could use to skip stones, one that you could let go of and not care enough whether it comes back to shore or get lost in the deepest parts of the lake.

another knock makes its way to his ears. he thinks he’s imagining it until another one comes. grabbing the bat he hid between his nightstand, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door, feeling absolutely drained. the pain on his stomach, from the demobats that got a taste, still stinging, a pain that travels throughout his body with every miniscule movement. slowly, he carefully unlocks his door, ready to swing, until his brown eyes meet your wide, shocked ones. letting out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he slowly lowers his bat.

“hi,” you whisper, “i uh, got in using the spare key,” a sheepish smile on your lips, holding up the silver key that was hidden in the dead plant placed on his front door. the key he told you about so you could sneak into his house at any given moment. the key that led to love marks all over his body, painting pink and purple constellations. the key you haven’t used since that night you decided to end whatever it was there to end.

“you agreed to no feelings, that we would just be friends with benefits and that's it, you know that's all it could be,” steve has his face resting on his palm, his once perfectly styled hair going in different directions. like this - bare chest, lips still red from yours, neck stained beautifully by the artwork you left behind, he looked like he belonged in an art gallery.

“i-i know, but i-i couldn’t help it…it’s just so easy to fall in love with you,” a confession that leaves the boy paralyzed, doe, teary eyes staring up at his brown ones — almost pleading.

“stop. you don’t know what you’re saying.” he’s angry. mad that those words could slip past your lips so easily. mad that even though you’re looking at him like he somehow brought the moon to you, he still can’t find it in himself to believe it.

“steve-,” you try to reach out for his hand but he pulls away before you could even feel him. all you want is to pull him into your arms, to remind him that he is worth loving but you see the battle in his eyes, the war that’s taking place in his mind and you know he has his kingdom closed, walls up, ready to strike and defend himself at any second. there is no room for you in his castle, you see that now.

“i-im sorry,” your voice was gentle, afraid he’ll completely lock the gate on you. the last thing you wanted was to fight, you’re defenseless when it comes to him.

“let’s just pretend that none of this happened and we can go back to being friends, nothing changes and for the sake of us and the others, no questions asked,” his words were met with silence that cuts through like a sword against your neck.

you felt detached from reality, feeling like you were watching this conversation happen instead of being a part of it. you had no control when you slowly got off his bed and quietly switched back into your clothes, his words transferring a sort of numbness to your whole being.

he watched as you removed his t-shirt from your body and tossed it into his laundry bag, slipping back into your own clothes, making him think that his old t-shirt looked way better on you. yet all he did was watch. watched as you gave him one last forced smile and walked out of his room. the sound of the front door opening and closing traveling throughout the house.

the days that followed after were stolen glances, opposite directions, uncomfortable silences, tiptoes, lingering feelings, longing stares, tension. neither one budged nor made the effort to even act like friends, going along with the others like they were fools when in reality, there can be no one more foolish than the pair.

“hi?” he greets you just as quietly, head tilted, confused, like a puppy who was hearing a new sound for the first time. he sees you glance at his bandaged stomach, eyes traveling up to his bruised neck and notices the way you want to reach out to him but just like all the other times before, you stop yourself.

“i-uh i brought you some food, and a first aid kit,” your voice still a mere whisper, he nods, guards down, stepping aside as you walk into the room you’ve been in countless times before.

you placed the bag on his vanity, taking out it’s contents one by one and like before, he sat upon his bed and watched — a bowl that seemed to contain his favorite chicken noodle soup coming into view, it’s aroma hitting his nostrils, a clear tupperware filled with your famous homemade chocolate cookies, one that smells like home, the ones the kids would fight over with, resulting to an extra batch made just for him since he never won.

he suddenly realizes how hungry he was, not really having the motivation nor the appetite to keep his stomach full. his body responds by lightly growling, a sound he hoped you didn’t hear.

“you should eat,” you break the silence, looking at him through his vanity mirror, “gonna need all your strength back to make sure you can always play hero,” you send him a small smile, he softly chuckles at your words, eyes falling to his sheets which suddenly became interesting, when was the last time he changed his sheets anyway.

“i also brought you new bandages so you can change that every couple of hours, make sure it doesn’t get infected, with all these monsters around, that’d be the lamest way to go, y’know?,” you joked, trying to lighten the air. he stares at your back, contemplating. regardless of the fact that you were always an arm length away, he missed you.

he wants to be selfish. he wants to be taken care of, to be loved.

and for the first time in a while, his mind is silent, focusing only on the fact that you are there.

making his way over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist, hands falling on top of each other, sitting tightly on your stomach, his head hiding on the crook of your neck, light puffs of air falling from his lips causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. he feels you stiffen, holding your breath, before relaxing back into his chest, hand gently hovering over his. you stay that way for a while, a minute or two, before you turn around, still in his embrace. slowly your hands make their way to his neck, fingers dancing lightly around his red, bright scar and ever so gently, landing around his cheek, eyes on yours, “are you okay?”

with those three words, the gates open and with it came a river of tears. he shakes his head no and this time, he lets you pull him into your arms as he found solace in your warmth, your perfume that smelled like the sweetest of flowers, making him feel like the sun was on his back as he laid his head on your chest. your fingers immediately run through his silky hair and he feels like a huge weight has just been lifted off his shoulders.

“thank you for being here,” his voice hoarse from the quiet cries that slipped past his lips, he pulled away, admiring the way the moonlight from his window reflected itself into your eyes, brushing back the strand of hair that dangled in front of them.

“i-i thought i was gonna lose you,” words that broke the boy’s heart. he can’t even imagine what he would have done if the roles were reversed. “i-i was so scared,” you continue, trying to hold back the tears that were begging to fall.

“hey,” rough palms making it’s way to your cheeks, softly caressing you, golden eyes shining, “you will never lose me.”

“haven’t i already?,” you cry out. you hated the way you danced around him like he was a stranger. hated the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in him, afraid you would cross the line that the boy remarkably drew out and completely lose access to him.

“no,” he lightly shakes his head, “ no….hey, look at me,” his finger under your chin, gently pleading for your eyes to find his. “i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere, i’m sorry i’ve been running, i was just…scared,” he admits.

“scared of what?,” you urge him on, waiting for the answer to the problem you’ve been trying to solve. his hands find their way around yours as he looks down, composing his thoughts.

“i was scared you would finally realize there will always be someone better, that you’d leave and i’d be all alone again,” he spills his truths. and you can’t fathom how blind you’ve been to not see it. the reason behind nancy appearing in his thoughts.

“i’m not her, you know?” you say quietly. he nods, “i-i know,” he says guiltily.

“and i don’t want better, steve…i just want you,” you confess into the night, steve feels all the air rush into his lungs, almost like he was learning how to breathe for the first time. he searches your eyes for any signs of doubt but only saw his own reflection in them.

“do you want me?” you barely heard your own voice, afraid of the answer. he scoffs, “god, is that even a question?,” you look at him, confusion etched onto the creases of your eyebrows and steve almost wished the bats got him instead of realizing that he has left you doubting his feelings for you.

“of course i want you,” his brown eyes staring deeply into yours, “i can’t get you out of my head, all this time all i wanted was to be near you, to hold your hand, god, y/n i’m in love with you and i prayed, god i prayed to a guy i barely believed in that we would both make it out there alive because i-i can’t imagine my life without you and-,” he’s breathless, telling you everything he has wanted for weeks. word after word stumbling out of his lips as your smile grew with every syllable, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

you pulled the boy towards you and like magnets, you connected, quickly placing your lips against his before your eyes drowned in your favorite color, the smile forming on his lips evident “i said it before but i’m in love with you too.”

his eyes soften, finally allowing himself to believe those words, soft lips meets yours once again, battling, making up for all the lost time, hands automatically finding its way up his brown curls like they were meant to always be there, his, around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible, fearing that if he let you go, you’ll disappear as if it was a dream.

but as you make that little sound, the one that drives him crazy, butterflies erupting in his stomach, he knows that this is better than any dream he could ever imagine. you were here with him. you were in love with him.

your hands slowly starts making its way down to his body, but before the situation could escalate, he can’t help but break the kiss off, the pain from his wounds still evident, he lets out a sharp moan, “ow,” snapping you back to reality.

“oh my god, i'm so sorry,” you apologize, inspecting his bandages.

“don’t be,” he reassures you, a light kiss placed upon your lips, “you’re worth it,” he teased, causing your giggles to harmonize, his forehead leaning against yours, a content sigh slipping off his lips. two eyes crinkling, sharing light smiles.

“as much as i would love to stare into your eyes forever” you break the dream-like state, “i worked really hard on that chicken noodle soup and it would be a shame for it to go to waste,” you laugh and he holds on to the moment as long as possible.

“now, we wouldn’t want that, plus we have forever to lovingly gaze in each other’s eyes,” he winks, sending you into a fit of laughter. he kisses you one more time before grabbing your favorite t-shirt, his t-shirt, in his drawer and handing it to you.

an: i really don't post in this acc unless i have something to post lmao. also, currently in my bridgerton phase so don't mind the profile pic, or do mind it? feel free to let me know your favorite bridgerton :)

#steve harrington x you #stranger things x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #love.c.#steve harrington x reader angst

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georgiapeach30513 · 10 months ago

Text

With Your Touch, Part 2

Summary: Lloyd has some rules, and very little control.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Au Pair!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual tension, video sex, a bit of voyeurism, implied male masturbation, teasing, daddy issues, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Shh, sweetheart. We’ve got to tell your daddy you need a proper middle name. Unless you’re European. Can you tell me if you are?” Lyla giggles a bit, reaching a hand up to touch your face. “Oh, I knew it. You want one. So what do you think your dad will like an A name? A B name?” The baby squeals so loud you hear Lloyd’s loud banging stop. Pausing while he focuses on Lyla’s voice.

“Was that a good sound or bad? I haven’t learned her noises. Cries. Voice. I don’t know what the correct terminology would be, but I haven’t learned it.”

“It isn’t bad. She’s communicating with me.”

“What?” His voice is laced in so much confusion that you find it so endearing. He was obnoxious, but trying. His rules for you as the au pair were a bit too much, but the pay was ridiculously good. And Chase didn’t live too far. He could sneak in.

You walk into Lyla’s room, wanting to laugh as Lloyd curses at the crib he was trying to put together. Looking down at the sweet baby in your arms as her daddy throws something else, “He’s pitching a fit.”

“No the — no, I’m not. This stupid thing is impossible with these dumbass directions. And she can’t sleep in her bedroom. I don’t want her to sleep in the portable crib anymore. I want her to have a space of her own. I highly doubt her whore of a mother gave her that. And yes, she is. Any woman that drops off a baby with their father who knows fuck all about kids is a whore and shitty human being. And Lyla, I apologize. I’m working on not talking like an asshole around her.”

Working on it, and failing miserably, it is still cute he thinks he’s going to change that quickly. Even just acknowledging that type of language isn’t suitable for her is a start. “And here I am in over my head, putting together an overly pink bedroom for her because she didn’t ask to be born, and I am extra.”

“Yeah, designer baby clothes aren't what a lot of parents do.”

“How did your father dress you?”

Chuckling, you put Lyla in her carrier. You place her slightly behind, but still beside Lloyd, and plant yourself beside him, grabbing up the directions. “Roman didn’t dress me. My mother did. Roman might have paid for things, but my mom was the one that was there always. So you’re doing a lot better than him.”

“Is this a moment you tell me you have daddy issues?”

Snorting, you look up at him, shaking your head no, “This is me telling you my experience with my father. Having a dad in a girl’s life makes a difference. I call him Roman. What do you want Lyla to call you?”

“Dad.”

“You know you didn’t hesitate?” Taking a deep inhale, Lloyd grabs the directions from you, busying himself in reading them. You don’t think he actually is looking at them, he’s absorbing what you said, while also refusing to look at you and show you his vulnerability. “Speaking of which, why doesn’t she have a middle name?”

“Why does she need one?”

“What’s your middle name?” You counter quickly, and he leans back. His eyes gazing over your body. Wondering where the hell you came from because clearly you didn’t know who he was.

He narrows his eyes, looking at you and then his daughter. Lyla can’t help but to giggle at him. Tiny little thing. You wonder if she was malnourished or just a bit miniature anyways. “Bennett,” he waits to see if you react before continuing. “Why does she need one?”

“Beatrice,” he looks down at the baby who chuckles again. “She likes you, and she told me she wanted a name that started with B, and now I find out your name starts with a B. I think you and your daddy are a perfect pair, don’t you Miss Lyla Bee?” Despite whatever nonsense her mother had her living in, she's a happy baby. One that is very much aware of her daddy. Her bright green eyes focus on him when he looks at her.

“Lyla Bee. I like that. She’s like my little bumble bee. Should we get rid of all the pink and change it to bumble bees? Did I make a mistake with the pink? What if she doesn’t like pink?”

You shrug your shoulders. It really didn’t matter what she liked. She seemed to like her dad, and he adored her, and wanted to do right by her. “I think we should keep the pink. Here, you tend to the baby, and let me have a go at this crib. You’re messing everything up. And she really likes you.”

“But you’re the au pair?” He says, holding onto Lyla. He gives his finger to her, and her little baby fingers wrap around him tightly.

“And you’re mucking up this crib. Can I? I helped my mom with my little brother’s crib. It was a long time ago. But,” you go silent, grabbing the directions back from Lloyd. Using the same tactic he did earlier. Focus on this and ignore the questions, “No, Roman is not his father.”

“Didn’t ask,” he didn’t have to. Everyone else did. Your brother was an angel, and his father was…well, he was there. He made sure that Vincent was taken care of. Might not have offered you any attention, but you weren’t his responsibility.

“You thought it, so that was enough. I like the simple, but extravagant theme you went for in her bedroom though. Even if the Dior bunny is a bit much.”

“She likes it,” he chuckles, looking down at his daughter. “My partner told me buying things is my love language.”

“You must really love your daughter then,” he whispers out ‘yeah’, not realizing how much it hurts you that he loves someone he just met. And your father knew about you during the pregnancy. You didn’t have daddy issues. You had men issues. Men couldn’t be trusted. There were to be looked at, and put to good use.

You flop down on the seat next to Lloyd on the couch with a cup of microwave macaroni and cheese. You take a bite of the easy dinner, glancing at the television while Lloyd scowls. His eyes drift over your body, slightly confused. Watching as your jaw pulses with your chews.

“I feel you watching me,” he didn’t hide his facial expressions. You could read exactly what he was thinking by the quirks of his brows and mouth alone. Not that you had been paying attention to his mouth.

“What is that dreadful shit you’re eating?”

You turn your body towards him, and slowly take another bite. Noting how his eyes go to your mouth as he watches you chew in disgust. “It only took three and a half minutes to make.”

“It smells like it did. But what are you eating?” This man has been rich his entire life. Didn’t even know the joys of microwaveable food.

“It’s mac and cheese,” you giggle. Scooping out a bit, and you hold the spoon out for him. “Try it.”

“I’d rather not,” his face no longer disgusted, but more indifferent.

“Because you’re scared to eat after me?” He rolls his eyes as you take another bite of the sinfully delicious and preservative filled dinner. It probably had too much sodium in it, and the way you dressed it up surely didn’t help. But it was simple and comforting all the same. Lloyd could learn to loosen up a bit. Bring himself down to a ‘normal lifestyle’.

“While sharing a spoon with you does repulse me. The idea of eating something that came out of a microwave is just as disgusting. Did your father not feed you well?”

“Roman,” you emphasize his name. One day Lloyd would understand that Roman was nothing but a sperm donor and a bank. “He didn’t feed me. My mother did. And she wanted me to be normal.”

“Eating proper food is normal,” you liked him. Legitimately liked him. He also didn’t get offended when you popped back. He probably always had someone around him ready to take orders. That is until you.

“I mean have the American dream.”

“Yes, the American dream is definitely to eat food that is cheaper than toilet paper.”

Slowly blinking, you watch him watch you. Something that should be uncomfortable with the lack of a baby as a buffer wasn’t. You wanted to bring him back down to earth. He was a bit pompous and a lot of an asshole, and you still liked it. “I’m going to make you a cup.”

“Please don’t,” his voice is flat as he watches you jump up from the couch.

“And you’re going to at least try it.”

“I’d rather not,” he is too stiff and robotic with his movements. You want to reach over to his shoulders and make him slouch. Maybe if you made him laugh or shook him? Made him dance with you? You were going to make him break.

“And after you’ve tried it, if you still think the same we can drop it. But what I put into my body is my business. What you put into yours is your business. We won’t judge one another. You can oblige me by cooking me and Lyla Bee a delicious dinner one evening. I’ll humor you, and try your rich people food, mkay?”

This isn’t at all what Lloyd had bargained for. A girl who was given no boundaries. But you had helped him get Lyla’s bedroom in order. She was even sleeping soundly in her crib while a monitor sat on the coffee table. You hadn’t complained when he would start throwing things in a fit. And somehow managed to calm him down.

“Fine, but I don’t cook. I have a private chef,” he responds, following you into the kitchen. Eyeing you as you go into the pantry. “Where did this come from?”

Sighing, you open up the fridge producing a container of shredded cheese, and walk to the counter. “I had it delivered while you were taking a nap with Lyla. It’s really cute to see you sleeping with a baby on your chest. You know, I could watch her. Nap time leaves me nothing to do but use Roman’s card to have some food delivered here.”

“I read you should try to bond with your baby whenever you can. I missed time with her. Wait — you were watching me sleep?” It was quick, but you saw his smirk. Did he like you watching him sleep? That almost feels like an invasion of privacy. Or did he like that you looked at him? Called him cute? What was this?

“It got quiet in the apartment. So I went to find you,” and you might have wandered around the giant apartment as well. His bedroom was just the first place you looked. And you might have enjoyed what you saw, and you might have created a quick but stupid scenario of your husband doing that. Not Lloyd in particular, just a blank faced man who may or may not have had a mustache.

“You’re a snoop?”

“I’m curious by nature,” it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t looking for something to hurt or burn Lloyd with. Just wanted to give a gander through everything. “So what exactly are my hours? When you’re here do you want me to be here? Can I request time off? Have a social life? You won’t exactly let me have people here, and I do respect that. This is yours and Lyla’s space, and I know with your line of work discretion is advised. But I can’t have my only friends be you and a baby. I do have a boyfriend, and I fear I won’t if I don’t see him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Lloyd smirks. That smile dies quickly as he watches you mix up the cheese concoction to the now completed noodles, and slide the disposable container to him. “You’re not going to put this in a real bowl?”

After washing your hands, you splash a bit of water on him. Giggling when his face turns into a snarl, “Loosen up. This is microwave food. And I need to see other people. Do you not like Chase?”

“His name is dumb,” rolling your eyes, you look away from him. Listening for any signs of movement on the monitor while Lloyd takes a tentative bite of the mac and cheese. Curling up his nose until the spoon touches his tongue, and you see his eyebrows go up. “But this isn’t that bad.”

“What’s wrong with his name?”

“Chase is a verb,” he answers matter of fact. He was going to be one of those. Complete alpha male, and you were bringing someone into his home that was hurting his ego. You weren’t even sure if Chase was the one, but he is definitely the one right now. You didn’t meet your forever person in college, and you’re not even sure you believe in that. You just find someone you tolerate and make sure the sex is good. Plus Chase was amazing to look at and a lot of fun.

“And I don’t want boys in and out of Lyla Bee’s life,” he liked the way the nickname you gave her sounded. It suited his sweet little bee. She had proven to be the sweetest and most cuddly baby he’d ever met. But he had only met one.

“I can respect that as long as you respect the fact that he is my boyfriend,” Lloyd didn’t really want to or have to for that matter. But you were new to this life and to him. You’d eventually see that Lloyd commanded all. Not that he would torture you like he did some. As long as you followed the rules.

“Fine.”

“Is it okay that I came out here tonight? Would you rather me stay holed up in my room? Alone?”

“No,” he answers, walking to the garbage can to dispose of the trash. He heads towards the sink, washing his spoon quickly before leaving you to go back into the living room. Leaving you with more questions than answers.

“No, as in it’s okay that I came out?”

“Were you supposed to stay in your bedroom and starve?” Well that was a simple question to answer. But it was your first night here, and you didn’t know what boundaries he had that you shouldn’t cross. “I don’t expect us to be best friends. But we live together. You’re the woman that takes care of my daughter, and I’m the man.”

Saying it in such simple terms made this arrangement sound strange. You didn’t want to be an au pair, and didn’t see yourself living with a man and his daughter. His baby daughter, who couldn’t even crawl. Currently you think about this weird living situation, and how lines could easily become blurred here.

“What are my duties?”

“You’ve already told me that you have daddy issues, and now you’re asking me what your duties are? Please. I’m going to bed. This line of question is — it’s not good for me. Goodnight, Dolly. Stay up as long as you like, but in the morning I’ll be gone. Tomorrow will be all your responsibility. I’ve added a monitor to your room. If it’s before five, I can tend to her.”

He walks off leaving you with even more questions. Why did he suddenly have that outburst? What had made him seem so sensitive? And you didn’t have daddy issues. You were just fine without your father. You didn’t seek the approval of a man, or needed one to keep you in line. Sure you might watch Lloyd with Lyla and wish that Roman had even an ounce of care that Lloyd had shown in the first few hours that you met him.

Lyla is lucky to have a man that stepped up to be her father. He didn’t have to. From what you understand he didn’t even know of her existence, but it didn’t matter. She was his priority.

Exhaling deeply, you turn off all the lights, and walk to your bedroom. You’d promised Chase you would call once you were settled in bed. You’d leave the awkward talk with Lloyd for tomorrow, or whenever he decided to show up. Giving a look towards his door instead of Lyla’s telling yourself you would crack him. It was one day, and things wouldn’t always be this awkward.

Sitting on your overly plush bed, you call up Chase, and he answers on the first ring, “FaceTime me. I want to see you.”

Flipping it over to a video call, you see his handsome face, and smile like a schoolgirl. “Nice room. Have you figured out how I’m going to be able to sneak in there?”

“Chase!”

“Oh, come on. It will be fun. I’ve never fucked an au pair before,” you roll your eyes. Letting the camera drift a bit before pulling apart your pajama top. Giving him a quick flash of your chest. “Oh, princess, I like that. Is that why you called me? We’ve never had phone sex before.”

”Being around a baby and a man child today made me miss you,” you give him a little pout. The performance that he loved so much, and you just enjoyed to see him get feral. “All I could think about was falling asleep because you wore me out.”

”I could fucking wear you out.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you do to me?”

“I know how you like an audience. Maybe not actually seeing you, but you love when people can hear you. You think daddy Lloyd would have a problem hearing you whisper my name?” Daddy Lloyd? Now why did that give you a bit of a pause. A rumble in your belly that you hadn’t expected. Ignoring a few of Chase’s words as your mind ponders, going in so many different directions of why those words strung together made you…feel.

“He’d hear you gasping for breath as I stab into that sweet little cunt. Or maybe he’d walk in to see you riding me. Why don’t you remind me how you ride me,” you hum at him, and he pans the camera down to his lap, and he’s gripping the base of his cock so tightly. Beads of precum gather at the tip. Normally he’d have his cock already covered in a condom. But seeing him in all his glory is doing something to you.

“Grab a pillow, and pretend it’s me. I’ll stroke my cock to whatever pace you set.”

—

Lloyd flops to the other side. Grabbing his pillow he covers his head thinking about anything besides what he is hearing. He shouldn’t have added the camera to your room. But to be fair the cameras were in every fucking room in the apartment. How was he going to protect you and his daughter if he didn’t know what was going on?

Maybe the ones in the bathroom were too much, but they weren’t pointing at the toilet. My god, he wanted to look. Wanted to turn the volume down. Wanted to get that stupid verb out of his mind. But the verb wouldn’t stop talking. It isn’t even fair that you are whispering. It is normal for people to masturbate. You’d just sound better without his pathetic attempts at phone sex.

“Ugh,” Lloyd growls. He could exit out of the app if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Is it because he didn’t want to? Is it because he liked the sound of your sweet noises? Or is it because it had been too long since he had felt something besides his hand? He isn’t sure. The only thing he was truly positive about was you were killing him.

All fucking day. Acting all innocent and oblivious. He’d been away from women for too long, and you were…you knew what you were doing. Your cute little domestic moments with his daughter. You made him army ration mac and cheese that were at least edible. You helped him. You didn’t even ask, you just sat down and helped him. And you were sweet with his baby.

His emotions are conflicting with his need to…

He had to stop this utter nonsense. He isn’t a rational man, but he did what he had to do with the cameras. And now it’s backfiring on him because you can’t fucking whisper a moan. Why did your heavy breathing sound so sexy?

Why did he want to look? Were you topless? One peek wouldn’t hurt. But it would be crossing a line. How would he feel if someone was doing this with his daughter? He wouldn’t like it. You were Roman’s daughter. Even though he didn’t tell him you had the prettiest…

Nope. He is spiraling down into a sinful rabbit hole. His cock is too hard and angry and it is killing him to not look. He even fears grabbing his phone to turn down the volume will make him want to watch you. See you do whatever the fuck you are doing. Judging by the sounds and whatever The Verb was saying, you are grinding on a fucking pillow.

One look won’t hurt.

Nope, he can’t do this. He throws the blanket off him. Sitting up in the bed, he rests his elbows on his knees. Head in his hands as he tries to make his cock calm down. He was lonely. But it feels even wrong to fuck his fist because your voice is what got him hard.

This arrangement was needed, but this is difficult. Feeling a bit impossibly hard right now. Everything was hard. Including his fucking cock. It was quaking with the need to be dealt with.

Shaking his head, he stands up. His cock pressing uncomfortably against his boxers. A walk through the apartment is much needed. Get away from the noise. Maybe eat another somewhat edible peasant mac and cheese.

This was a bad idea. He sees the soft glow underneath your bedroom door, and has a deep desire to sling it open and get on to you for being…

No. He can’t do that. You’re not ‘breaking’ any of his rules. You’re just mutually masturbating with your boyfriend, and you’re taking too long. Not that he would make sure to fuck you quickly. He just doesn’t want someone else taking their time with you.

What the fuck is he even talking about? He can’t fuck you. You were Lyla’s. He just paid you. He could pay you in other ways.

No!

You fucking asked him what your duties were. He’d love for your duties to be getting to your knees and letting him see how pretty your mouth looked with his cock in it. His tip nudging the back of your throat while tears fill your eyes, and your lungs cry for air.

What the actual fuck? Why was he like this? Why was this a struggle? And why is he going the opposite way of the kitchen? Landing directly in front of your door? Listening to your sounds live. Panting. Whimpering. Not saying The Verb’s name. He’d have you screaming his name. He would have you begging for him to let you come. Have you edged all day because you wanted to tease him with silly little questions about your duties.

He’d have tears falling down your cheeks as he smirks down at you. Letting you know what a pathetic and needy little slut you were. Fuck you so hard your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, and you’re completely dumb. So dumb that you’re just spouting out random words until he’s left his seed inside your belly.

Walking to your bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up before leaving you blissed out. Making you so needy that you beg for his attention. Start being a good girl so you get more time with is cock in — inside of you. Ready to crawl on your knees after Lyla was put to sleep, and telling him you’re his little sex doll. And he would make so much use of your body and holes. Fucking you every night. Special time just for you. Just so he can feel your tight…tight…tight walls milk him dry.

”Lloyd?” Your voice pants on the other side of the room. “Lloyd is that you?” Getting closer to the door. He tucks his cock back in his boxers. Not even realizing he had been rubbing one out to your sounds. Wiping his hands on the silk of his underwear when you sling the door open.

How did you become prettier? A sheen of sweat around your hairline, and yep…you’d been grinding on a fucking pillow. Your bed is a crumbled up mess and a pillow is right in the middle of the bed. “Is everything okay? Sorry, I was…I was telling Chase goodnight.”

The Verb. You had shorts on earlier. Now it’s this t-shirt that was barely covering your legs. Were you naked? Did you show him your pussy? Your chest continues to heave, and he hates The Verb. He despises him. He’s got to go. You can’t spend time with Lyla and him if The Verb was in the picture. “Lloyd, are you okay?”

“I’m hungry.”

”I’m confused,” what was his reason for being at your door, telling you that he was hungry.

”I like ramen. The gross kind. The kind that…”

”Like top ramen?” You ask him confused. Mouth still slightly open as you try to catch your breath and his eyebrow quirks up. Did you know he was listening to you and stroking himself?

“Yes. You made me your cheap noodles, would you like me to make you some of my cheap noodles?”

“It’s after midnight.”

“Fine, I’ll eat the noodles by myself,” spinning on his heels, he walks away from you into the kitchen. It isn’t long until he hears the soft pads of your feet following him. “I told you it was okay.”

“You — did you…I was almost asleep.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. You were almost asleep as you were telling your…boyfriend goodnight. That’s exactly what almost asleep sounds like,” that list bit of his sentence sounds a bit implying. Did he know?

“Did you hear our conversation?” Was it even a conversation? He couldn’t remember. He just heard you telling him you were going to come. Not The Verb, but Lloyd. You are a tease. He didn’t mean to get off on your voice. “How long were you out here?”

“Grab me a pot?” Oh you were obedient, bending over to get a pot, and standing up quickly. Not quick enough. No panties. He pretends to see nothing. You can sleep with no panties. That’s a good habit to get into because he can just slide into your bed, and start fucking you. When you get there of course. Consent is key. And he feels like a bastard for what he did tonight. But that movement you just did was on your own.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” He asks with a devilish grin.

“Nothing,” it wasn’t just nothing. But he wasn’t going to make you feel guilty for the need to show him your cunt still glistening. He’d have your legs drenched. “Do you do anything special with your ramen? Or do you make it as is?”

“There’s some eggs and spring onions in the fridge. Does that answer your question?” He nods his head towards the fridge, trying to figure out what else he could make you do to get a little peek. He’d play oblivious. Let you decide what you are comfortable with. “Mind getting me some bowls from the top shelf?”

Standing on your tippy toes you dance around a moment. The bottom of your ass cheeks make a little appearance, and he steps behind you to reach the bowls himself. Taking too long to cage your body with your own. And when you gasp, pressing your ass into his crotch he bounces back immediately. Dropping the bowls into the floor and they shatter into thousands of pieces.

“Shit,” Lloyd whispers under his breath. And without asking, places his hands on your sides to lift you up onto the counter. “Stay there while I clean this up. I don’t need you stepping on glass.”

He doesn’t notice the odd glances that you give him as he picks up the larger pieces and starts sweeping up the rest. “My mom always uses wet a paper towel to get the tiny pieces up.”

“That’s smart,” he follows your instructions. And stands up straight. You have already gotten more comfortable, and your legs are not so tightly pressed together. He has to bite his tongue in order to not look. But as high up as that shirt is sitting on your thighs, he knows. And you are aware that he knows.

“Not that Lyla can even crawl right now, but the idea of there being these tiny pieces of glass for you to step on when holding her,” his words stop, and he stands in front of you. How did you not realize he was shirtless? Why is his chest so close to your face as he reaches above your head for more bowls? Why does he smell like a wet dream? Push the thoughts away.

“I don’t want you hurting yourself and dropping her in an accident.”

“I won’t drop her.”

“Knock on the cabinets immediately! That is bad luck,” you do as he says, not pegging him as a superstitious man at all. “I had some chance to think about it. I think on Sundays you should have the day off completely unless I’m out of town. Saturdays, is it fair to ask for you to work half a day? Just until around noon?”

“I think that’s fair.”

“And maybe we should not talk about The Verb?”

“The Verb?” What was he even talking about? You notice his eyes flick momentarily to your lap, and you realize how comfortable you had gotten on this counter. Your legs are too far apart. He had to have seen something. Was he disappointed? You didn’t want to disappoint him. You had just started to get to know him. You wanted to prove to him and yourself that you could care for a baby.

“That Chase boy.”

“My boyfriend?” You giggle. Why did he have such an issue with Chase?

“Why is he even your boyfriend?”

“He’s better than a dildo. I mean,” you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and have to look at the floor. Missing how big Lloyd’s smile spreads across his smug face. Or the way he is stalking towards you like he’s ready to pounce on his prey. “We’ve been together for awhile, but it’s not that serious.”

“Sweetheart, don’t settle for better than a dildo,” he stands right in front of you. Both hands on your knees as he goes to push your legs apart. Inserting himself in between your thighs. The weird feeling in your tummy returns, and you hate having no panties on as slick floods to your core. Throat dry as his finger touches your chin and lifts your face up to look at him. “And when I’m speaking to you, I expect you to look me in the eyes, do you understand?”

You nod your head slowly, but he clicks his tongue, “And I expect you to verbally answer in my home. Little head gestures are easily misinterpreted, okay?”

“Okay,” he raises an eyebrow, wanting you to finish your sentence, but words are impossible, and your brain is mush. Everything is delayed as you feel the heat between you and Lloyd, “I understand.”

“If you need something better than a dildo and more than The Verb just use your words,” what the fuck does that even mean? He steps away from you much quicker than he inserted himself. The air in the room is heavy and stifling, and you wonder if you even knew how to breathe without reminding yourself to inhale and exhale.

“Do you like creamy ramen or brothy?” This bastard is really changing the subject. You can’t even think with the two heartbeats you feel. One inside your chest, while the other is between your thighs and throbbing. Why is your heart beating so fast? Why is your body betraying you?

“I don’t think I’ve had creamy.”

“You want to get me the heavy whipping cream?” He gives you a cheeky smile when you jump off the counter and head towards the fridge.

“Why are you asking me to do all these things?”

“Because you listen so well,” you pause before reaching for the heavy whipping cream, and turn to look at him.

“What is this?” He’s playing a sick game. He had to be. He saw this ‘vulnerable little girl’ that he had to save. You didn’t need saving, you were fine all on your own.

“You’re very well behaved. Your mother did a good job. Until just now you didn’t even question it. Just did as I asked,” what is he getting at? He is talking in riddles, or backwards, or you are just reading too much into whatever this exchange is. Keeping your mouth closed for the rest of the evening.

Keeping your eyes off him as you squirm around uncomfortably in your seat. Is this uncomfortable because of him? Or are you weirded out because you are feeling things because of him. If you look up, you’d see him smiling as he watches the weird inner turmoil going on in your head.

Finishing before you, he stands up to put his bowl in the dishwasher. Walking past you towards his bedroom, he stops. “And Dolly?”

“Yes?” You ask, turning around in your chair.

“When you leave your room make sure you have on panties,” oh. My. God. He knew. He saw. He didn’t say anything until now. “Because next time I won’t force myself to stop my need to lean you over the counter and spank your ass.”

“Okay,” you didn’t know how to respond to that, and you couldn’t believe how your body was internalizing his words. Heat. Fire. Desire. Embarrassment. Lust. How you have immediate visions of Lloyd doing just that, and spreading your cheeks to see if he made you wet. He did. Uncomfortably so.

“Good girl, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he needs a cold shower. He needs away from you because his cock has been at full mast since you questioned why he was asking you to gather things for him. You could try to deny it, but he turned you on as much as you turned him on.

And yet here is your employer, and you are just the sweet au pair with daddy issues. No matter what you say. And he supposes he’s the sick bastard that didn’t mind teasing you. Giving you something to think about. Options? Something for the spank bank? He hopes you go to bed wet and frustrated. Wake up to needing to fuck your own fingers as you think about the close proximity he had to you.

He hopes that you are dripping with need for his cock, and his care and protection. And he hopes that a cold shower is enough to get visions of you yipping with every smack to your ass. That you would be the perfect and obedient girl for him. Woman. Girl sounded gross in this context. Thank you, Roman for making sure your daughter had daddy issues. But fuck him for not loving his daughter the way you deserved.

Masterlist

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#with your touch #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfic #daddy issues #au pair au #lloyd hansen x au pair!reader

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xxblairexxss · 1 year ago

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Prime

Pairing : Jude Bellingham x reader

Theme : Fluff

Got this idea from those tiktok videos of him playing football with a group of kids. You probably know which one I’m talking about if you stumbled across one. Haven’t proofread! Sorry for any mistakes.

Jude was like your mom’s favourite child. She was eternally grateful for her lovely daughters but when you introduced your boyfriend to the family, you knew she had put him above you and your sisters. Your dad was a huge fan of football and he thought you were joking when you told him you were dating Dortmund player so of course when Jude first joined your family’s dinner, your dad was elated that you thought he would have forgotten about you if it wasn’t for your constant glare at him.

Since then, Jude always got invited to any family events of yours, just like how he always invited you to his family events.

judebellingham has added to their story

Your nephew, Noah was obsessed with football. Guess it ran in the family because of how the obsession went from your dad to Noah. Different from you, who barely knew anything about it. Noah had asked you a week prior if Jude was gonna come to the housewarming party but when you asked why he was so eager to know, he said it was secret. Turned out he wanted to ask Jude to play football with him because he got a proper football ball from his birthday last month.

You were in the kitchen, taking over the duty to cut the fruits so your sister could sneaked out to the nearby store to get some more ingredients for roasted garlic hummus with her husband. You were left with Jude and the kids as your parents are yet to arrived.

You were decorating the plate with the colourful fruits when you felt a sudden impact on your side. It was Noah, who was suddenly crying and hugging on your legs. Confused, you bent down and wiped the fresh tears on his cheek as he pulled away.

“What’s wrong? Did you fell?”

“No…”

“Why did you cry?”

“Jude wouldn’t give the ball back…”

“What…?”

That was when you saw Jude walked in with Noel, Noah’s baby brother.

“Jude Victor William Bellingham! Did you seriously make my nephew cry?”

“I didn’t! He asked me to play like I was in a match.”

“You are so silly! He’s not prime Lewandowski, is he?”

He chuckled in response before leaving a peck on your lips and squatted down to be on the same level with Noah, who was now refused to look at him.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Let’s do another round, yeah? You’ll be in the same team with Noel and I can only play with one leg, how about that?”

Noah responded with an immediate “Okay!” and a wide grin as he ran to Noel to pull him outside. You could see the little one waddled trying to catch on his brother.

Jude stood back up and pulled you closer by your waist. He found you so adorable when you were still frowning at him that he wanted to just planted kisses all over your beautiful face.

“I’m sorry, princess. I swear I didn’t mean it. Anyway, I didn’t know you actually have some basic football knowledge. I thought you don’t know any other players except me. That was kinda hot, not gonna lie.” He bended down his head to kiss on your exposed shoulder blade from your off shoulder crop top, pressing his body against yours even more.

“Well, I’m actually a barca girl.”

Jude tilted your chin up as he brushed his lips against yours before nibbling softy on your bottom lips.

“Shut up, you’re my girl.”

“Jude, come on!” You heard Noah called out for him from the backyard, probably getting annoyed at how long he was taking his time.

“Coming!” He pulled away and strode across the living room to the kids, leaving you with butterflies in your stomach, even after all these years.

#football imagine #jude bellingham fics #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #football imagines #football fics

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matryosika · 1 year ago

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Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones.

By far your most terrible enemies these days.

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep.

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare.

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”.

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”.

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip.

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along —you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it.

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response.

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand.

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight.

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”.

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am]

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance.

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”.

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open.

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message.

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath.

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”.

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”.

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”.

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”.

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?”

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”.

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them.

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”.

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension.

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”.

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”.

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you.

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”.

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”.

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”.

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans.

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only.

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?”

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”.

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”.

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it.

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”.

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him.

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”.

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom.

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease.

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt.

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?”

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves.

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking.

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”.

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly.

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”.

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”.

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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