#but I’m the one afraid to look at my bank account and see it empty

[ohello0]

It’s so easy for me to get upset and shut down it’s almost laughable

[fluentmoviequoter]

No Dreams in the Wasteland

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: Years after Jim left Long Beach, he calls you from Los Angeles, and you do everything you can to get back to him.

Warnings: r and Jim were friends in Long Beach, angst to fluff, song lyrics are italicized

Word Count: 3.2k+ words

A/N: Jim Street owns this album in my mind. After months in my drafts, I hope you enjoy!🤍

“Hey, it’s Street – uh, Jim Street. You probably know that. Or maybe you don’t remember me, I don’t know, I shouldn’t just assume… This isn’t- I’m just going to start over. This is Jim Street. I’ve been thinking about you recently; longer than that, really. I’m living in Los Angeles now; I have a great job and amazing friends. I think I’m finally figuring out this adulting, life thing if you can believe it. I- I’d love to see you, so if you’re ever in LA, give me a call.”

You listen to the voicemail until you have it memorized. Jim Street was an important part of your life, and you loved him before you truly understood what love was. Hearing from him after all this time makes you realize that something needs to change. The nights after Jim left Long Beach were filled with dreams of him, but as life moved on and he did too, you stopped dreaming altogether. Street took a part of you with him when he left, and a surprise voicemail offers a chance to get it, and him, back.

The train ticket clutched in your hand emptied your savings account. Life was never going to be easy, but the decision to spend your last dime on a one-way train ride to find Jim Street again was. You couldn’t sleep during the night leading up to your departure, but when you sit down on the train platform to wait, you close your eyes to think of Jim and how amazing your reunion will be.

A train whistle blowing and wheels turning pull you from your dreamless sleep. Leaving your bag, you run toward the train and raise your ticket over your head. While you rush after it, begging the conductor to stop, memories of Jim run through your head.

It’s over, though, because if you miss the train, no, it ain’t gonna wait for you. Your ticket is nonrefundable, nontransferable, and now it’s nothing more than a useless piece of paper that symbolizes how trapped you are. In a life with no money, you are stuck with no hope and no chance of seeing Street any time soon. Even worse, you realize as you walk out of the station with nothing but your ticket, you can’t even dream of a better life with him because there are no dreams in the wasteland.

The following morning, with no phone, wallet, or future, you set out to find a job. If you can’t visit Street, or even listen to his voicemail again, you’ll have to work until you can. There’s a letter from a debt collector in your mail as you leaf through rejection letters regarding job applications you submitted previously. Falling back in your chair, you sigh and look around your dismal apartment. There’s a piece of paper beside you, and you decide to write a few goals. In high school, you and Jim wrote a list of things you wanted to do in life. It seems like he's working steadily down his list, while you’re stalled somewhere between “graduate” and “get a job I love.” The paper is quickly covered in your goals, and you pin it to the back of your door so you can see it every morning. Three goals will get you back to Jim, and you will do everything it takes to: save all your money, pay off all your debts, and always be afraid of all the failures and regrets. The second part is more of a reminder, but you refuse to get comfortable in your sad excuse of a life without Jim Street again. He’s the prize on the other side of this wasteland, and even if you only get a moment with him, it’s worth everything you risk.

Within a week of the disaster at the train station, you have two full-time jobs, a few hours to sleep each night, the cheapest flip phone you could find, and a growing bank account. Living with your goals and Jim Street in mind, you buy only what you need, and the lack of free time makes it easy to avoid spending money.

On your first day off, after a month of working nonstop, you clean your apartment. There’s a large pile of things you don’t use, and you use your laptop to find a second-hand store that will buy them. It won’t get you much money, but a few dollars in your pocket is the equivalent of a few miles closer to Jim. Los Angeles isn’t far, but there are things in Long Beach that you have to deal with before you leave. Granted, you’re unsure if Jim even wants to see you now. You’re done living without him, you decide as you gather the items to sell, and even if the world’s on fire and you’re dancin’ with the dead, you will find Jim Street again.

As you wait for the employees to examine and price your items, you wait at the counter and open your flip phone. Jim likely doesn’t have your new number, but the fact that he found your previous number makes you hope he’ll reach out again. You didn’t call back either, though.

Someone says your name as the bell over the door chimes. You turn and see a former classmate; a girl who knew you when Jim was still around.

“Jess,” you greet. “Hi.”

“I didn’t know you shopped here!” she says as she pulls you into a hug.

“Oh, I don’t. Just selling a few things.”

“We ladies can always use a little extra spending money, right?”

Jessica laughs and you wonder why she’s talking to you. There’s no reason for her to remember you, let alone be willing to strike up the first conversation you’ve ever had.

“So, did you and Jim ever tie the knot?” she asks. “I always wanted a chance with him, but ya know, girl code. You were so close I’d never do that.”

“Um.”

She grabs your left hand and frowns dramatically. “You didn’t? Or you did? Babe, I’m so sorry, either way. But…”

You prepare yourself for her to ask for his number or to blame you somehow. Everyone’s a stranger, but they’re actin’ like my friends to get what they want, you think. Long Beach has been empty for you since Jim left, and your lonely life is only invaded when someone needs something or thinks you can get them to Jim.

The first employee you spoke to returns, and you cheer internally as you excuse yourself from Jessica. She nods and pats your hand before turning to look at shoes.

“Friend of yours?” the employee asks with a knowing look.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Do you have good news for me?”

“I do actually. Some of this is from designer brands that have been retired; are you sure you want to part with them?”

“Designer?” you repeat. “I don’t have designer clothes.”

“Oh, these have been out of circulation for decades. You’d be surprised how many are handed down or found in thrift shops. Regardless of how you got them, our final offer is $5,000 for all of it. And if you have more, we’re prepared to pay the same rate.”

“Five thou- what are the brands? I can look and see if I have more.”

“I’ll take that as you accept?” the employee interjects with a smile.

“Yes, yes, I accept. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I need this.”

She winks as she passes you an envelope and a piece of paper with several brand names written on it. You gratefully accept them and place them in the safest zipper in your purse before turning toward the door. Jessica calls out and your shoulders drop as you smile and walk to her side.

“You make good money?” she asks.

“More than I expected,” you answer. “Have a good one, Jessica.”

“No, babe, wait. We should go shopping tomorrow and you can tell me all about Jim!”

“I’ve got to work tomorrow, so maybe next time,” you lie before rushing out of the store.

You will sell all of your clothes if you’re going to get this much money for them. Having two streams of steady income has made a sizeable dent in your debt and rebuilt your savings account, but $5,000 will get you within inches of selling your apartment and buying another one-way train ticket. You won’t fall asleep this time, and you won’t miss the train for any reason, because you’re done expecting people and things to wait for you. This may be the wasteland, but you’re learning that you deserve more, and you can do the work to get there.

After you rip apart your closet again and fail to find more formerly designer clothes, you sit back. The fears, doubts, and insecurities in your head come and go, but you can drown them out in a moment. You close your eyes, and the voicemail from Street plays in your mind and you forget all the voices in your head. Thinking of a man from your past, the man you wanted to be your future, is the secret to forgetting them and remembering who you are.

Several weeks after Street left the voicemail, Luca has grown to anticipate the first words out of his mouth when he returns from late-night motorcycle rides.

“Any messages for me?” Street asks.

Luca shakes his head and says, “Nah, man. I’m sorry.”

Street runs his fingers through his hair and looks longingly at the phone as he sits. “I think it’s time for me to move on, Luca.”

“Dude, you can’t give up on her! Clearly, she means a lot to you; I mean, c’mon, you have dreams about her!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have confided that,” Street murmurs. “She’s not going to call back, Luca. It’s never going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Weeks without an answer typically means there isn’t one coming.”

“You can’t pick who you fall for, Street. Or who you dream about.”

Street stands and slaps his hands against his thighs as he says, “Then I guess it’s time for me to find another dream.”

The refund in your bank account makes you groan. There are more than enough funds to cover the weekly payment to your debt repayment company. You find the number and wait to speak to a representative as you look around your empty apartment. Everything you have left, all that you care about, can fit in a single suitcase, and you’re ready for the moment that you fill the case and leave this part of your life behind.

“I just looked at your account, ma’am, and there is no outstanding balance. The refund was the difference of your payment,” the representative explains. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Are you saying I don’t owe any more money?” you ask incredulously.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Um, yes, one more thing, please. Can you check all of my accounts?”

“I did. They are all at a balance of $0. You have paid off all debts with our company.”

“Thank you!” you cheer before hanging up.

You look at everything even remotely related to your money several times before grabbing a marker and approaching your door. You draw a line through save all your money and pay off all your debts. With an excited smile, you rip the paper down and lay it at the bottom of your suitcase. Once all of your belongings are in the suitcase, you grab your favorite book from the shelf. A picture of you and Street in high school falls out, and you look at it before placing it in your pocket.

After a stop to inform your landlord that you will not be renewing your lease next month and he can sell what remains in your apartment, you arrive at the train station.

“I need a one-way ticket to Los Angeles,” you say as you approach the ticket booth.

“No trains to Los Angeles ‘til tomorrow morning. 9:30 a.m.,” he replies.

“I’ll take it.”

You accept the ticket and sit with your legs over your suitcase. Trains come and go, and you look at the picture of you and Street: a couple kids in the heart of America. Hours pass, and as the sun sets, you know you won’t be able to sleep. You’ll wait forever at the station to go home to Jim Street.

When you step off the train in sunny Los Angeles, you’re suddenly reminded that you don’t know where to go from here. Phone books are a thing of the past, and you’re sure an internet search would be more of a wild-goose chase than anything. Despite this lack of direction, you smile and exit the station in search of a hotel. Once there, you Google Jim’s name and are surprised to see it in several news reports.

“Jim Street of LAPD S.W.A.T. did not comment…” you read quietly. “He did it.”

“I understand that I can’t see him, but could you tell him I’m here? He called me and I couldn’t call him back,” you explain. “Please just tell him?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the disinterested officer says before turning back to his computer.

You sit in the L.A.P.D. lobby and run your finger over the edge of the picture.

“Officer Luca,” the officer you talked to calls.

You glance up but quickly return your eyes to the photo. It’s your only comfort: the picture and knowing that the man in it is somewhere in the same city.

“Excuse me,” a man says as he steps beside you. “I’m Officer Luca, can you come with me for a moment?”

“Sure, officer,” you answer.

He smiles at something as you slide with photo into your bag. You follow him wordlessly as you wonder if Jim is somewhere in these halls. Officer Luca leads you through the station before stopping suddenly.

“26-David!” he yells.

You follow Officer Luca’s line of sight and watch as Jim Street turns around. He looks at Luca with his brows furrowed before his eyes slide to you. You smile and wave shyly as Street walks toward you.

“Now who’s dreaming about the right girl?” Luca mutters under his breath.

“Hi,” you greet.

Jim smiles and says, “I thought you weren’t going to call.”

“That’s- that’s a long story, but I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he promises. “I have to work until 6, but I meant everything I said. Do you maybe want to get dinner or something?”

“I’d love that.”

“Where are you staying? I’ll pick you up.”

You tell him the name of your hotel, and he types it into his phone for safekeeping. You look between him and his phone, and he chuckles before offering it to you. After creating your contact, you send yourself a text, so you have his number, too. It’s as if a heavy weight is lifted, knowing that you can reach out whenever you want. Street places his phone back in his pocket and looks at you.

“Could I get a hug or something? It’s been years,” you whisper.

Street’s smile grows as he pulls you close. He wraps his arms over your shoulders as yours circle his waist. As he tightens his grip on you, he murmurs that he missed you and never wants the hug to end. You feel the same, but Street is called away, and you leave with a phone number, the prospect of a dinner, and an unspoken promise that things will be different now. Better.

“Officer Luca made it sound like you talk about me,” you say in the elevator of your hotel.

“You never leave my mind,” Jim replies, with his hand in yours.

“Even when you sleep?” you tease.

“Who do you think I dream about? Don’t you have a special someone in your dreams?”

You chew your bottom lip before answering, “I don’t dream.”

“I don’t mean actual dreams.”

“I know. I just- there’s no dreams in the wasteland, Street. And that’s where I’ve been for most of my life. It took everything I had to get here to see you. Why do you think it took me months?”

“What did you do?”

The elevator opens, and you walk silently through the lobby. Street pulls you to a stop on the sidewalk and looks into your eyes.

“I bought a train ticket the day after you called,” you begin. “But I missed the train and didn’t have enough money to buy another ticket. My phone was in my bag, and I left it at the station, so I had no way of calling you back. But because I spent the last of my savings on that ticket, I couldn’t pay my bills on time. It took working several jobs and barely sleeping, but I paid off all my debts. Except for one.”

“Being?”

“Everything I owe you.”

Street sighs and moves his hands up to your shoulders. “You don’t have to repay me for being your friend. When I said I wanted to see you, I wasn’t asking for anything more than your company.”

“I know, Street. My debt is not telling you how I felt before our lives stopped being connected. I wanted to tell you in high school, but I got scared.”

“You know how I felt in high school?” Street whispers. “I was in love with you, but I was terrified of losing you.”

“And now?”

“The same. With a little less fear. After all, you came all this way just to visit me, right?”

“Not exactly.”

Street’s brows furrow, and you smile.

“I left Long Beach. For good. I want to be wherever you are for as long as you’ll let me. I think I’m ready to leave the wasteland and get back to the life I always wanted, with you.”

Street nods slowly and leans toward you as he murmurs, “I think… I want to make up for lost time. The risk wasn’t worth it in high school; I wasn’t ready back then.”

“What do we have to lose now, Street?” you ask.

“More time. Too much.”

He pulls you against his chest and kisses you. The wasteland becomes a distant memory as you move with Street. Everything fades away as you show one another everything that you have felt for one another and communicate that the time apart was hard but worth it to get to this moment. You finally feel at home and like you’re living again. No longer are you living in a world on fire and dancin’ with the dead, but living in a world with Jim Street, where you breathe together, your hearts beat together, and his kiss gives you life. After you pull back, Jim leads you to his motorcycle and pulls you close.

“I could do that all night,” you say.

“I’ve been dreaming of kissing you since sophomore year,” Jim replies. “But that was far better.”

“No more being afraid of all the failures and regrets. I want us, Jim. Forever.”

“Alright,” he says with a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll just die every night.”

“What?”

He smiles as he says, “I’ve got a real bad feeling that your lips could kill. But I’ve always wanted to die for a night.”

You kiss Jim again, and the last few months become a memory only of his voicemail and loving Jim from a distance.

Surprise 2nd Song :)

[sapphos-darlings]

I have no one else I could possibly talk about this with, so I wanted to reach out and maybe get a reality check.

is it stupid of me to be seriously considering making plans to travel to meet someone I met online only a few months ago?

as I’m putting together my plans for the summer, there’s a way it could actually happen, but based on certain factors, it’s a decision I would have to make fairly soon. meeting her wouldn’t be the only thing I’d be doing there (more or less professional development), but it would be the primary reason why I went there instead of somewhere else more reasonable (she lives overseas).

we met in a group discussion space catered to shared skills/interests, and falling for her or anyone there was never my intention. at that point, I was still struggling to pinpoint my identity, and was experiencing a lot of denial and negative thought patterns surrounding it.

she’s a writer, and as I started reading her work, it made me really think. suddenly, I was writing too and thinking about things I had never really fully processed before. slowly but surely, i watched so much of my internalized homophobia dissipate, and I feel freer than I ever have.

in discussing the writing and shared interests, somehow, we clicked instantly. I can’t pinpoint when it went from us being close in a platonic way to something else entirely, but it has. I’ve never felt this way before and I think about her all the time. i find myself blushing and getting butterflies even when we are just having a regular conversation. we talk every single day and both lose some sleep over it because time zones, but I just love listening to her. there are so many coincidences with aspects of our lives that it just feels like something too big to ignore.

we’ve discussed meeting as a definite hypothetical, like… it has to happen someday, but who knows when. As such, we have a lot of specific things we’d like to do if it ever happened as well. so now I’m staring this opportunity in the face like… am I moving to fast? am I crazy? and if I am, would it be that bad if I want to do something a little reckless for the first time in my life? even if it were to end in heartbreak, I feel like I need to see at least one great love story in my life through. but it could just be the initial infatuation talking. I’m new to this, as we’ve established, and I’m in my early 20s.

so, if you have thoughts, let me know, and don’t be afraid to be brutally honest.

My dear Anon, sounds absolutely wonderful! You are in love and that is very exciting! Things we do for love can feel wild and crazy and that is not always a bad thing, and sometimes taking risks is worth it. Been there! (Heartbroken in the end, but no regrets.)

But as an older adult, let me give you a little checklist and a talking-to about what you're about to do. You're probably reading this hoping I'd say go for it, because you definitely sound like you have already pretty much decided to go no matter what I say, but please, recognize that bias and take your time. That means debating yourself, making proper lists weighing pros and cons, actually looking at your money situation and thinking ahead, second-guessing and spending minimum three days before actually making a decision.

Seriously consider following:

Are you giving up a serious opportunity for work or education, or are you just picking a slightly less good one because this girl is there? I'd say do not throw away possibly one time opportunities for your own education or work for a chance with someone. But! If the choice is between like "the best and most fitting overseas school program" and "the third best/most fitting school program and meeting the girl", then I'd say taking the chance with this girl is worth it.

What's your financial situation now? How about in three years? What's best for your education and finances in the long term? Do not go overboard now if that means emptying your bank account, but rather save up and travel in a year or two.

Prepare for the worst: what if she's not at all like you imagine? What if you meet her and find there's no attraction? What if she gets cold feet? What if she breaks your heart? Take a good moment to plan for the worst. It's not to say "don't do it", but to make sure you have a plan B, C and D. Read again the first point and consider, is it worth it if she breaks your heart?

Seriously, you need a plan B. Plan your trip and your stay and your education/job/whatever you're there for also independent of her. Look out for yourself.

You need to tell someone that you're meeting a person. You can just say an online friend, but remember that all rules about meeting people online stand here too, especially when you're in a foreign country: Meet in a public place, ask for her picture beforehand and talk to her in voice chat, make sure you have people who know where you are and with whom, inform your emergency contact, and so on.

And I think that's it. Do not throw away work or education for a chance, don't ruin yourself financially, make sure you're safe and secure, and prepare for heartbreak. Remember, this has to be worth the time and money and possible sacrifices even if nothing comes of it. This girl can't be your only reason.

Other than that, well. Think about the story you'll have.

-Lavender

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Happy Hump Day!

You may have read the shocking story in America (yes, another one) about a black boy who went to the wrong house to pick up his siblings and was shot twice by 84-year-old white man, Andrew Lester. Mr. Lester shot him once through the glass door and, as he lay on the ground outside, shot him again (to make sure he was dead!) Ralph, a 16-year-old from Kansas City, Missouri, had been sent to pick up his younger twin brothers at a friend’s house but mixed up the address, finding himself in front of a house on Northeast 115th Street, instead of Northeast 115th Terrace. Thankfully, Ralph survived and is now at home with his family. Andrew Lester has now been charged with first-degree assault and armed criminal action. My question is: why are some people white people so AFRAID of black people? Afraid for their life!

We’re watching ‘Wellmania’ on Netflix – which we’re now kinda getting into it – and the lead characters said something like, “These are not your people. One day you’ll find your people.” Do you understand what that means? Have you ever found yourself within a crowd of people (or trying to fit into a crowd of people) and you suddenly realise you DON’T fit in? It’s a devastating realisation. You might have spent a lot of time trying to be part of it, trying to enjoy it; you might have spent a lot of time and money and emotional energy trying to fit in and then you suddenly realise … you don’t! Not saying that’s happened to me – I’ve got wonderful friends everywhere – but I’m sure some people find themselves in that situation.

My hacked Instagram is spewing out beggy-beggy messages again! People tell me they have been responding with anger and sarcasm. What’s the point? It’s just a bot! People say they have reported it. What’s the point? Instagram don’t give a f*ck! People: the account was hacked LAST YEAR! If you are STILL subscribed to that OLD Instagram profile (and hundreds of people still are), please UNFOLLOW IMMEDIATELY, or the bot will keep promising you money and, once they have your bank account details, the bot will empty your bank account! I already have a new IG account (wesker.lindsay). And watch out for MORE scammers leaving 'helpful' comments underneath this post! If they're offering some phone number or email address, DON'T go there!

‘Loose Women’ created a Twitter poll asking the question, “Should protesting be banned?” When the results came back 96% ‘No’, the post was suddenly deleted. Hmm … wonder who asked for that poll to be created and I wonder who wanted the results quickly deleted?

Needless to say, if the immensely-talented Bukayo Saka would like to come to a club where he isn’t viciously and racially abused by HIS OWN SUPPORTERS, we will happily have him at The London Stadium!

After a very long Easter break, term resumes at the other place I teach. Looking forward to seeing my Wednesday students. Really nice people and a lot of fun to work with. Discussion is spirited and always entertaining but, by the time I get home, I am spent!

Have a wonderful and well-endowed Wednesday. I love you all. Yes, a crazy, bald man loves and cares about you.

[kshira]

—filthy rich

a bet//making you cum//rich boy sakusa//that’s it//that’s the tweet

18+ content//minors dni

wc: 2,066

18+ content, cursing, f!reader, blushy sakusa, fingering, soft dom sakusa (?), alcohol consumption, mentions of alcohol, reader slightly buzzed, smut in general

+ this is my piece for the rich boy collab, i thank @bakugohoex for letting me join & be sure to check out the rest of the wonderful event!

//“wanna make a bet, pretty boy?” atsumu grins, raising his glass to his lips, raking his eyes over the crowds of people until he makes you his target.

“the bet being?” sakusa says, meeting eye contact with you then bashfully taking the gaze away.

“well i’m bored, a little horny and that pool girl over there looks pretty fuckin’ hot” atsumu takes the glass gulping the last of the whiskey before slamming it back down.

sakusa shutters when he hears the glass crack at the metal table, his nerves are building but the alcohol soothes it—somewhat.

lavish cars fill his garages, endless expensive clothes pack sakusa’s closets, and the infinity amount of money suffused his bank account.

yet sakusa doesn’t understand why he feels numb, his money attracts everything and anyone—his bed never stays empty neither does his wallet but his soul—hollow.

“lets see who can fuck her first but more importantly who can make her cum first” atsumu wipes the brown liquor from his lips before giving sakusa a little push “you first omi.”

sakusa stumbles forward but takes the stride into your path around the pool, slowly walking in your direction watching you scoop the towels from vacant chairs and wiping down tables as you go.

“you do an exceptional job.. as a pool girl..fuck why did i say that, hi hello” sakusa covers his pink covered cheeks, eyeing the way your hips sway a certain way as you finish wiping down a chair.

“is this your way of hitting on me?” you chuckle, turning around to face the unknown force behind you—unexpectedly he wasn’t an old creep this time.

sakusa was in no doubt a beautiful man but where to start? that was what your eyes kept doing.

you started with his hair, the way he certainly tried to mask the curls in gel but the summer heat brought them spiraling down over his face, his pale skin adorned his muscles carved within and the most catching part you found about him was those beauty marks perfectly placed on his face.

“what time do you get off?” sakusa avoids your eyes when he mutters the words out, of course he knows he’s attractive but rejection never settled well with him.

“mm, well if you rub me just right i usually get off pretty quickly” you try to conceal the smile you have watching sakua’s eyes widen by your bold statement, you notice it doesn’t take much to get a reaction from him—you wonder that with other parts of him.

“j-just give me your number and text me when you get off— off work” sakusa coldly states and turns around as quickly as he got there leaving a confused look from you and a hysterical atsumu in the background.

you had seen this famous sakusa before, anybody flocked to him at every social event you unfortunately attended for the filthy disgusting rich, cleaning up behind them and taking their harsh coated words just for the sake of a little bit of money.

sakusa was placed in this group by his fame nonetheless and the staggering amount of money he’d collected through his growing career, so fuck it you think, might as well play this game he’d started—eat the rich instead of them devoring you for a change.

your text to sakusa left unanswered for a brief moment to give you some time to unwind and relax including a well deserved bottle of expensive champagne and a hot shower.

but as the alcohol finally started soaking in your phone lit up and the engine of a car in your apartment complex turned off.

kiyoomi sakusa was here, with all that fame and glory.

he was casually leaning on a ferrari, typical you thought for him to pull up in a car more expensive than anything you owned all together—filthy rich with the looks to double the amount.

“come in” you wave him into your apartment, watching him check his phone again and stride to your spot right inside your home.

“interesting..place” sakusa grunts, taking his shoes off and the door and shyly walking closer to the living room before planting his heavy body down on the couch.

“not up to your standards i guess?” you joke, crawling beside him on the couch, your fingers grazing his chest for stability—he’s nervous with a sweat beading around his dark curls and that tint of pink on his cheeks you’ve started to like on him.

“enough of the small talk, you know why i’m here we texted enough to get on first name basis and for you to know i’m not a creep or anything but—“ sakusa pauses to watch your expression, wide eyed and full of curiosity it kind of pains him to explain further.

“go on” you hum, swiping a piece of hair behind your ear scooting closer to him and to add a little bit of spice your hand stays dormant on his thigh.

“it was a bet to sleep with you but that’s something that we don’t have to do or anything like that—the other part of the bet is useless to talk about but i just had to make it look like i was actually doing the bet so i wouldn’t get ragged on by my friend..” sakusa is afraid to look at you, his eyes staying down at the floor memorizing the patterns of the hardwood floor.

“the bet.. what’s the other part?” you’re genuinely curious but if anything the fact that this rich boy is wanting to walk away in shame and defeat has you wondering—tasting for something else.

“to..make you.. c-cum and i was chosen to go first” sakusa leans back on the couch, wanting to melt into it entirely from embarrassment.

“is that so? i did say it didn’t take much to get me off” you smile back, peeling his large palms from his red cheeks to see a sly smile hiding under it.

“it’s been awhile for me so don’t have great expectations” sakusa chuckles interlocking his fingers with yours and moving inches closer till your lips can just almost touch.

there wasn’t time to take in his kiss when his tongue already started gently touching the walls inside your mouth, the sweet liquor still lingered and mixed with the champagne you had drunk; it was a divine taste.

sakusa went first taking his clothes off, starting with his shirt that colored your old wooden floors, his upper body was on display and fuck did it look good.

the ridges that filled his stomach formed remarkable abs, his skin flashed an ivory stain and those beauty marks created mini constellations all over.

an idea had tainted your mind for awhile, his beautiful body so clean and pure— needed something on it.

“do you mind if i pour this champagne on you?” your finger taps on the glass whilst your other hand draws circles on his bare chest.

“if you clean up the mess you’re going to start” sakusa holds his bottom lip between his teeth as you’d already started pouring the golden liquid all over his stomach.

“i planned to” your tongue drags away the champagne, licking all where it flows but never leaving his skin—you can feel sakusa’s body tremble at every lap you place on him and the bulge under your ass keeps growing bigger.

you gaze up to see him and a hazed lustful sakusa groans back at you, his cheeks dusted pink all over again with that growing bulge under you throbbing at this point.

“do you want me to go further? since you haven’t done this in awhile i can—“ you wince when sakusa pulls your face up by your cheeks, his palms practically swallowing your face whole.

“i said i haven’t done this in a while not that i don’t know how to fuck you” he takes you in another kiss, devouring your lips with his own swirling his tongue around the champagne laying shallow in your mouth.

sakusa decided the sweet taste isn’t enough, he’s growing tired of his hardened dick just rubbing under you, he needs release soon.

“tell me, how does a pool girl like you have chardonnay champagne?” sakusa smirks, pulling your flimsy shirt off to reveal your tits; you shake from the exposed air fluttering to your skin leaving your nipples perked to a draw.

“i think compensation like expensive drinks are well deserved after dealing with rich fucking pricks all day” sakusa leans down listening to your reply, kissing your bare skin till he reaches your breasts.

“this rich fucking prick is about to fuck you though, you pretty little thing” his tongue wraps around one nipple sucking so slightly, you dance your fingers through the strands of his curls—the moan that escaped from your throat define that sakusa is in command.

“f-fuck feels good” you squeak, your voice stays rippled in your lungs—you don’t want to feel this good by a lick or a touch but the way sakusa is treating your body it’s a reflex now.

sakusa moves on to the other perked nipple, treating this one with more attention and while you’re caught up in the pulses your pussy is vibrating he slowly slings his hand down to your shorts, slipping them off and sinking one finger in.

“fuck—so wet, wet for me huh?” he groans into your tits, taking action in your messy hole, scissoring and moving with ease he’s already able to slip another one right in.

you want to answer him but you just don’t care too, you’re so caught up feeling his tongue trace a rotation on your perked breasts and his fingers plunging in your velvet walls that whatever you want to say fills right in with the orgasm you’re about to pull out.

sakusa feels you clamping down on his thick fingers, he knows you’re about to cum and he could walk away right afterwards with his winning bet but with your mouth agape, eyes glossy from the pleasure and you moaning for nobody but him—he wants inside of you.

you're reaching the top of your peak fast, your flowing essence tingling down your toes all you think about is him, his thick fingers and when you start to cum all on his fingers now you’re thinking about his dick.

“taste so good, so fucking good” sakusa pulls away from your cunt, his fingers soaked with the tips of them dripping in your cum and going right in his mouth.

god, did he have to do that?

“want you—want you in me now” you plead, palming at his pants and rubbing at his still stiff cock; you’re no one to beg but fuck you’re doing it now.

“such a good girl for me letting me make you cum, this time i’m gonna cum with you, yeah?” sakusa places a kiss on cheek trailing down your neck while he slips the rest of his clothes off and with the last drop of his clothes off you feel his knees dip in on the couch around you and that first stroke in.

of course measured with his height you’d known he’d be big but that soothing burn into your soaking pussy was the pure, uneducated guess he’d be this big.

but fuck did he reach that spot you couldn’t touch with your fingers, the way he’d bend your knees straight to your chest to get right at your cervix and you’d be goddamned if his dick didn’t rub right in your clit for safe measures.

“i’m not going to last when you feel this good but fuck i wanna” sakusa heaves, bringing his chest flushed to your knees, pressing down harder so he’s so balls deep he’s connected one with your soul.

“you gonna cum so soon huh? cum in this pussy” you moan out, digging nails in him and clenching so hard it’s cutting the blood flow down below on him.

“yeah? that what you want? fill this messy hole with my cum? god you’re so something else” sakusa fucks you faster till his balls are slapping at your wet thighs and his breathing matches with his speed.

“i’m gonna cum, i can’t hold it—fuck!” he bites down on your shoulder before stalling to fill you entirely up.

with a bet like this, you wonder how his other friend is going to fuck you//

[sukirichi]

earned it [04]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly,  “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna​ @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo​ @evesmores​ @ambiguous-something​ @lilith412426​ @kakashiharusohma @aizawap​ | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

[starcountesswritings]

Fear of Heights

Author’s note: Okay I just saw Spiderman NWH again today and it has really reignited my love for Doc Ock from 2004. This is just a little one shot idea of how things might go if (reader) is kidnapped but afraid of heights. Hope you enjoy!

You knew before you even got to your office that it was going to be a busy day at work, several customers were already lined up to see a teller and another couple were filling out slips on the side counter. You sighed as you headed over to your office, smiling at your coworker behind the counter as you passed. At least the day would go by fast, you thought as you typed your password into your computer and began checking through your emails, hoping to respond to a couple before your first appointment of the day. You were interrupted by a quiet ‘excuse me’ and you looked up to see an elderly woman smiling down at you, it seemed your first client was there and early. 

“Hi Peggy!” You greeted her with a cheery smile, motioning for her to sit. Well then, down to business.

“All set.” You smiled at Peggy a short while later, handing her a small book of starter checks to go with her new account. “You should receive your full booklet in the mail within five to seven business days…” You began your closing spiel but before you could get further a loud crash sounded from the front entrance followed closely by screams of freight. 

“What’s happening?” Peggy asked, clutching her purse in her lap.

“I’m not sure.” While your office had glass doors, the way it sat meant you could only see directly out of it, not what was going on at the front of the bank. You rounded your desk but before you made it to your door a large mechanical arm smashed into the tiles in front of your office, the force of it shaking your glass doors enough to shatter. With a cry you instinctively covered your head and turned your back as the glass broke, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. You didn’t need to turn around to know what, or rather, who that was but you did anyway. Standing with his back to you was none other than Doctor Octavius, or Doc Ock as the news had been calling him. You watched as one of his metal arms shot out, reaching over the counter to none too gently rip the register draw out and dump its contents into a bag another one of the arms was holding. He continued down the line and you could hear an occasional yelp from behind the counter each time an arm grabbed another drawer, your coworkers were probably trapped back there but he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind. Or you for that matter but how long would that last? You glanced back at the woman you were helping earlier who was still cowering in the chair. Dammit. 

“Quick, behind the desk!” You hissed at Peggy who stared at you wide eyed. “Come on, now!” Taking her by the arm you pulled her up and around it, ducking behind its bulk to shield you. Every crash had you both flinching, just how long did it take to empty out a bank? 

“Hey Doc! Catch!” 

That voice! You and Peggy made hopeful eye contact. Stealing a glance over the top of your desk you watched as none other than Spiderman webbed a loose cash drawer and flung it at Doc Ock who easily batted it away with a metal arm. Whatever happened next was blocked from view as they moved away from your office.

“Too slow Doc!” If Spiderman was here that had to mean the cops weren’t far behind, right? Maybe this would be over soon. 

Your thought was cut short as a chunk of floor smashed into your office, causing Peggy to shriek, and to your horror a metal claw sank itself into your desk and pulled it away, presumably to throw at the webbed hero but you were otherwise occupied by the second metal claw that was swaying in front of you both. If you didn’t know any better you could have sworn it was looking at you with curiosity. 

“I tire of your games, boy.” You knew who was speaking and he sounded close but you kept your eyes glued to the claw. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Peggy scramble up and your heart leapt to your throat as the claw in front of you turned towards her.

“No!” You cried and shot up, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you moved between the claw and Peggy. Just beyond what had been your office door Doc Ock turned to you, eying you curiously for a long moment. A moment that seemed to drag on forever and you found your face flushing under his scrutiny. 

“Hey, over here!” Spiderman called out and you saw something flying in your direction and flinched backwards but without even turning a metal claw caught it and threw it back. Instead you saw the corner of Doc Ock’s lips turn up and the metal arm shot out and circled around your waist, pulling you off your feet and to him, in a much gentler motion than you would have expected, that left you tucked into the side of his chest facing him. 

“Well, Spiderman. What are you going to do now?” His voice oozed with mockery.

“Let her go.” 

“Hmm, don’t think I will.” The metal arm tightened around your waist making you gasp, fighting the urge to try and yank the metal around you as you knew there was no point. This was not how you expected your day to go, essentially being a human shield for New York City’s biggest criminal. You looked up at him, even with your feet several inches off the ground you still had to look up, and he tilted his head to the side but with the dark sunglasses obscuring his eyes you couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or his foe. 

“Come on, Doc, she’s innocent.” 

“Then I guess you better not follow me.” With that you felt him begin moving, quickly making his way, or was it your way?, out of the smashed bank entrance and onto the street. 

In seconds you were rounding the corner onto a sidestreet and you wondered how far exactly he was going to take you with him but your thought was immediately cut short as one of the metal claws crashed into the stone building next to you, followed by a second, and the two of you begin ascending it. All thoughts about being kidnapped flew from your mind as the ground beneath you got smaller. Your breath caught in your throat as panic set in and your hands came up to grab onto the front of his leather trench coat. 

“You know, this is a hostage situation…” Doc Ock smirked. “You’re not supposed to be enjoying…” His sentence trailed off as he looked down at you, spotting the look of what was surely terror on your face. The climbing stopped and you managed to tear your eyes away from the ground and back up to him. 

“Heights?” He questioned, brows furrowing behind his glasses. You manage a small nod, swallowing hard against the fear, before inhaling sharply as the metal arm around you moved. Your grip tightened on his coat and you’re half expecting to go falling but to your surprise his human arm slides between them and wraps firmly around your waist, pulling you even closer against him. He started climbing again but this time much quicker. Instead of looking down you buried your face into his chest, inhaling the scent of leather as you tried to concentrate on anything but the feeling of free air whipping around you. 

After what was probably not even a minute, but to you had felt like eternity, he was hoisting the two of you onto the roof of the building, gently setting you onto your feet. The metal arm retracted but his arm stayed around your waist until your shaky legs found balance. 

“Apologies my dear, it was not my intention to scare you.”

You nod again, realizing you were still clinging to his coat. Letting go you took a step back, smoothing out your shirt that now had dark marks where the metal arms had been, and doing anything to avoid looking back at him. “I’m sorry.” You found yourself muttering as you finally glanced up at him, but as soon as the words left your mouth you questioned yourself. He had kidnapped you, why in the world did you just say you were sorry? He must have had a similar thought as he let out a short laugh. You felt your face flush and you looked down in embarrassment. 

“No need to apologize, I'm the one who should be for the heights… as well as your shirt it would seem.” 

You saw the tops of his shoes come into view but you stubbornly refused to look back up. What were you even supposed to do now? You supposed if he were going to kill you he could have done it already so what was he doing with you? 

“You seemed unafraid in the bank while everyone else ran or hid.”

Clearly he hadn’t seen you hiding behind your desk but you weren’t about to correct him. “I…” You found yourself unsure of what to say as you looked back up at him, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. For the first time since this had started you found yourself really looking over the man in front of you and you had to admit he cut an attractive, if somewhat intimidating, figure. “Well...um…I…” You began again but the wail of sirens below made you both turn. 

“Ah. Well it would seem that is my cue to leave.” A metal arm nudged your hand upwards and he took it in one of his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it much to your surprise. If you weren’t already blushing you certainly were now, catching your first look at his warm brown eyes as he watched your reaction from overtop the rims of his glasses. He smirked and pulled back with a wink before taking off towards the other side of the building. Pausing briefly in front of the roof access door he yanked it off its hinges, sending it clattering to the ground, before disappearing over the edge of the roof leaving you there alone wondering what just happened and how you were going to explain it when you got back to the ground.

[deobitchxx]

request! 

synopsis: the jealousy in your boyfriend led to an unexpected sex warning(s): filth smut ig?? degradation, slight slapping, chocking, breeding, multiple orgasms and overstimulation to the point y/n squirted so minors kindly dni! <3 prompt(s): 83 - it's sir, understood? 88 - be quiet or i have no choices but let them know what a whore you are underneath me 89 - do you have fun teasing the shit out of me? notes: i get too carried on with the plot thus leading it to be quite long than usual </3 my apologies

it was unprofessional of him to behave like this. to be precise, was it even your fault to begin with? it was your job as an idol and you can’t just say no to your manager. you needed the money and you were sure you could gain more popularity by accepting the commercial. it was quite new for a rising idol to be modelling for a lingerie company, but you were proud with your body proportions. plus, the thoughts of money flowing into your bank account can’t bring the smile on your face away. however, you weren’t informed that you’ll have a co-model for the month of promotion. you were shocked once you saw the quite provocative images by the side, the team expected you to pose equally the same or at least giving such vibes with your fellow co-worker. a male voice appeared as you turned to face the owner of the voice, seeing lee sangyeon, the leader of your boyfriend’s group. it was definitely an awkward situation for both of you, especially when sangyeon often saw you hanging around in their dorm during your leisure time. it was too late for both of you to back out and you knew it would only cause an unnecessary scene, leading to a heavy dark weird atmosphere in the studio. therefore, both of you decided to put all the thoughts behind and posed for the camera professionally.

you didn’t dare to bring the issue to your boyfriend, afraid that he would feel weird or distance himself with his leader. that’s the least you want since their group was busy preparing for their comeback. though both of you had busy schedules, there wouldn’t be a time where both of you would empty your time just to meet even though it was only for a few minutes. strangely, both of you had free time during the weekend. your company decided to give you a break during the weekend after your hard work during the weekdays while for your boyfriend, juyeon, the company decided not to pressure them too much. they gave them ample time to rest during the weekends though they still have to practise for plenty of hours. well, better than nothing right? juyeon appreciated everything the company gave to him, thus leading both of you to cuddle in his room. thanks to their recent success, the company managed to provide a new dorm for the members for their own comforts and some chose to have their own rooms while some choose to be roommates with their own members. for juyeon, he preferred being alone and since it was hard for idols to go out for dates, both of you often have your dates in his room. he wasn’t alone to begin with, some members apparently bring their significant others to their dorm too and they planned a conspiracy to not tell their managers. 

“how’s your week going?” his voice was so soothing, it almost brought you to sleep but you didn’t want to waste your free time with him sleeping. being in his arms as he cuddled you on his bed, you snuggled closer to his muscular body, getting a little bit comfortable under the huge comforter. the netflix show that was playing through the projector spontaneously became a music background, both of you weren’t paying much attention to what's showing since it was re-watched for the fifth time. since your arms were wrapping around his waist, you were drawing a circle on the naked skin, defining his packs. “nothing new, just as usual. how about yours? how was the preparation going?” it was your turn to ask him, looking up to face the beloved man in your life. with his right arm under your neck, casually landing his hand on your shoulder, he pulled you closer while rubbing your skin, “tired and stressed. preparing for a comeback would always be so bittersweet.” you nodded, understanding the feeling damn too well since you are an active idol too. “sangyeon leads us very well, i’m glad he’s the leader.” juyeon added, the day of you having a photoshoot with him suddenly flashed in your mind. starting to feel anxious, you fiddled with your fingers and the taller one noticed it. “something wrong?” 

“promise that you won’t get angry.” the doe eyes started to play its role, making juyeon soften by your expression as he gently caressed your hair, tucking them behind your ear before touching your ear. “i won’t promise, but i’ll try my best.” that’s what you like about juyeon. he wasn’t a good liar, nor good at being straight-forward but he’ll always choose the right words to not hurt you. exhaling the breath you didn’t know you held in, you cross-sitting on the mattress, leading the other to sit too while leaning his back against the bed frame. unlocking your phone and immediately going to the gallery, you showed him a few pictures from the previous photoshoot with sangyeon. “the lingerie company i’m currently modelling in just told me that i’ll be working with sangyeon starting from this month's promotion. i didn’t know about it, nor was it mentioned in the contract. both of us were informed right when we arrived at the destination.” you finally confessed the long ago things you’d been wanting to tell him, hoping he won’t be angry for the sudden confession. “i didn’t want to tell you yet because you were busy with your comeback. i didn’t want to make you more stressed, let alone having the intention to make you feel bad..” you bit your lips, head down as your eyes glued to your legs, suddenly found your legs attractive to look on. you expect for a disappointed sigh or the sudden raise in his voice, but instead you earned a chuckle from your boyfriend. 

looking up to face his reaction, it was true that he wasn’t showing any bad feedback at all. he rather gave you a smile before patting his lap and being the obedient girlfriend you are, you wasted no time in climbing to his lap.  “do you think i would get angry at this?” you nodded, earning another chuckle from him as his hands went to grab your chin, the sudden grasp startled you and he forced you to face him. “well you guessed it right. what gave you the right to think that i won’t be angry?” his fingers slowly tracing down to your collarbone, sensually touching them before landing his fingers on each side of your neck. “did you have fun doing the photoshoot with my leader?” you shook your head as a no, reducing the intake of oxygen as he pressed the sides tighter. it can’t be denied, angry and jealous juyeon is one of your favourite genres. “cat got your tongue?” he lowered a few octaves as you shook your head again, “n-no..” his other hand straight went to cup one of your breasts, earning a choked moan from his girlfriend. “i was already mad enough to know that you are modelling for a lingerie company but having sangyeon as your partner? that’s fucking pathetic.” he soon added, “whores like you sure like to play with my friends huh.” 

the sudden flip made you gasped, his strength never failed to impress you as he topped you, lips crashing with yours while fingers ripping every clothes of yours. as soon as your body was only covered by your undergarments, his lips went down to your neck, tongue casually covering your skin with his saliva. “fucking mad that you would agree with such stupid photoshoot,” he groaned against your skin, unclasping your bra to free your boobs and teeth sinked to one of your buds. “f-fuck juyeon-” “it’s sir, understood?” you nodded your head, so close to grip his hair but his hand was quick enough to pin your wrists on your head. “did i allow you to touch me? fucking needy slut who can’t keep her hands.” the pathetic whimpers that escaped from your lips produced beautiful melodies to juyeon’s ears, circling his tongue around your aroused nipples. the way he sucked into your nipples were quite hard to the point you were thinking if milk would suddenly come out but you knew it was impossible since you weren’t pregnant yet. after paying much attention to both of your breasts, his other hand cupped each of them, not wanting to leave it untouched while going south, facing your clothed cunt. letting out a sharp and loud moan, his hands now held your thighs, preventing you from moving much. 

“be quiet or i have no choice but let them know what a whore you are underneath me.” juyeon growled and you nodded, biting your lips from letting out another embarrassing moan. teeth holding onto the band of your panty, he slid it off and threw it somewhere around his room. the sudden emptiness made you whimper, blurting out incoherent words which juyeon assumed you wanted something to be done with your pussy. it was helplessly wet and you were too horny for a foreplay, but you knew you weren’t in control- especially when the angry juyeon was in between your legs. flicking his tongue against your folds, you held in the moan though you were sure soft moans managed to escape, hands gripping the bed sheet tightly. the sounds of your mewl began to reflect the whole room, whoever passing by juyeon’s room would surely knew what both of you were up for. “p-please..” you shook your head erratically, not wanting to get teased by the man beneath you but instead earning a cold silence as he slowly moved his tongue on your clit. “mmmff-” the bite on your lower lips got harsher, your fingers were finding anything that was impossible to hold onto. “sir please, no m-more mmmh,” you rolled your eyes to the back in sudden ecstasy as he left a long lick on your clit. maybe you were too horny or you were sex deprived, the liquid on his face maybe could explain it. 

“wow,” juyeon smirked, wiping the cum on his face with his thumb and licking it, looking up to face you as you were trying to easen your breath. “were you too fucking horny? i barely touch you,” the uneven breath responded to him, you can’t even form a proper sentence to the dominant one. “but above all of them, you came without my permission.” his tone got deeper as he reached for your neck, causing you to choke at the sudden grab. “and you know what sluts like you should do, right?” nodding your head off, switching your position as he now sat on the bed and you were in between his legs. “suck.” he demanded after you struggled taking his shorts off, greeted by the proudly standing wood right in-front of your face. licking the veins that stood out angrily as you pushed the tip into your mouth, slightly gagging at the sudden growth. you were taking too long and it wasn’t exactly what juyeon needed so he held your hair in a ponytail, pushing your mouth to the base and thrusting his hips up, causing you to gag. juyeon often informed you about the safe words and taps if it was getting overwhelming to you and since he didn’t receive any of them yet, he kept on forcing your mouth to his root, letting out a satisfied grunt by the warmth of your mouth. you knew that it was one of his favourite things in sex, well you liked it too, having his huge dick in your mouth. you preferred it more when he gets rough to you and that’s what exactly you got from him. 

bobbing your head according to the rhythm the latter just set to you, closing his eyes as his climax reaching soon. noticing it, popping out with the sound of ‘pop’ before circling your mouth around his tip with your fingers playing with his balls, dangerously close to his hole, deciding to tease him a bit and that would be the worst thing you ever chose to do on that day. tightening the grip on your hair as he yanked you off from his dick, forcing you to face him. “do you have fun teasing the shit out of me? do you think it’s cute to tease me?” you shook your head as a no but only to be responded with a slap on your cheek and hell, that fucking turned you on. “answer me, whore.” “n-no.” “no what?” the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you, pressing your legs tightly as the knot in your stomach was appearing again. “no s-s-sir.” a cheeky smirk could be heard afterwards as he threw you on the bed, hand still on your neck while the other reached to his dick, lining it up to your vaginal hole. “sluts like you should be put into their places back.” 

the sudden thrust into your hole caused you to let out another choked moan as he wasted no time in thrusting his hips against yours, the slapping sounds against wet skins were too obvious to be hidden anymore. following with your pathetic whimpers and sobs, you would have a hard time to face his teammates soon. knocking the breath out from you as he bottomed out, pulling out only to be slamming back into the tight hole of yours. the increase in speed led to another embarrassing moans of yours, incoherent words started to blurt out and the bed cracking against the wall surely left nightmares to whoever was in the dorm. “s-sir, s-sir mmmf sir please,” juyeon somehow managed to catch on what you were saying, raising an eyebrow as his hand went up to caress your hair gently, totally contrasting to the thrusts of his hips. “please what, kitten?” “anything s-sir, any-mmf fuck anything sir. just wanted to c-come,” the tears on the corner of your lips were getting clearer, the pleasures he gave to you were inexplicably good. “then come.” managed to get permission from your boyfriend, back arched as tears fell down, you screamed out loud as soon as you released, giving no fucks that he was still living with his members and some of them were probably having their rests in their own rooms. 

the pretty moan escaping from your lips was soon muffled as his lips caught yours, hips still not stopping from thrusting into you as it got impossibly faster and deeper. you swore you could see the bulge in your stomach and fuck, that made you wet again. “gonna cum in you,” juyeon whispered against your lips as soon as both of you parted off, the thought of breeding you making him insanely turned on and it could be proven by the changes in thrusts. “would you like that?” he asked as you once again nodded erratically, moaning a ‘please’ causing him to smirk, “of course, sluts like you should be breeded.” soon followed by him cumming into you as you could feel the long and thick ropes filling you up. you too were turned on by the thought of getting breeded, not realising that you just squirted on his dick. finishing riding his orgasm out in your hole, juyeon slowly pulled his dick off only to watch some of his cum dripping down to your thighs. the combination of your squirt and his cum on your thighs were putting him over the edge as he leaned in to lap the liquid off, earning a whimper from you as you grip his hairs, shaking your head. “t-too much. too much sir,” you squirmed but he ignored you and that caused you to have your orgasm for the fourth time. 

“good girl, my good girl.” juyeon praised you, giving endless pecks on your lips and forehead, “you did so well for me, princess.” ignoring the mess right in-front of them, he pulled you into a hug, pecking the crown of your head as you snuggled closer to him, finding no strength in moving at all. “did i went too harsh on you?” you shook your head as a no, wrapping your arms tighter around his well-defined waist and rested your head on his chest. “i’m sorry if i did, i got too carried away with my jealousy.” “it’s fine, juyeon. in fact, i like it.” you looked up to him and assured him with a peck on his cheek, responding to his smile. “next time, don’t hesitate to tell me if things like these happen again, okay? i promise i won’t be mad- at least, not like this. plus, you looked too hot for the shoot, guess i was too aroused by it.” you giggled at his sudden confession and nodded, pulling him closer to your body. “i love you.” “i love you too, my princess,” said your boyfriend as he pecked the top of your head again before putting both of you to a quick nap.

[hp-imagines-07]

Act Like a Gryffindor

Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Universe: Harry Potter; The Golden Trio era

Type: really fluff and kinda funny

Summary: the 4 times that Fred Weasley made you blush and the one time that it was the other way around... 

Request: YES|no - "Yay!! Could you write something about a super shy easily embarrassed reader who has the biggest crush on Fred? He teases her all the time and the others are like ‘oh leave her alone’ then she says something back and he goes BRIGHT RED. Sorry if that’s too much!!" @bnha-sero-hanta | "Can I request something with Fred Weasley x reader?" @coffee-wihtout-caffeine

Prompt: xxx

Warnings: cursing maybe and flirting

Song: xxx

Words Count: 3.3K

Posted: 30th of June 2020

A/N: this request is just perfect, i'm sorry | it's kinda of a 4+1 and i hope it got as good as i think it is

My Others Accounts: @imagines-07​ (Principal Account) | @obx-imagines-07 (Outer Banks) | @cm-imagines-07​ (Criminal Minds) | @stit-imagines-07 (Stranger Things & IT) | @mcu-imagines-07 (Marvel Comics Universe)

MY MASTERLIST

"Hey, [y/n]. Ready for the practice?" You heard a known voice coming from behind you and you turned around, seeing George walking to the pitch and also to you.

"Always, George. I'm always ready for quidditch." You said and started to walk beside him, as both of you were going to the same destination anyway. "Do you know where Fred is? I didn't saw him the whole day." You asked and looked at your left, seeing George smirking at you and anyone could know why he was looking like this just after you said something about Fred, what made you roll your eyes at the redhead one.

"Well, I don't know either. Just saw him at the classes that we have together, but he wasn't even having lunch at the Great Hall." He said while you two walked into the pitch, holding your brooms and with a thinking expression.

You signed and looked at him with a face that screams 'aRE YOU FUCKING STUPID?'. "And you don't think that it's weird or get worried?"

George just shook his head and went to his position, so the practice could start. As you all started to train, Fred appeared from nowhere and started to play but looked like anyone noticed that he was missing until he got there late.

The train was really intense and tiring, ok you were almost dying at the end of it. But you noticed that Fred was kinda off the whole hour, well he almost fell off his broom so many times that you stopped counting when it got to 6... All of the players got to the floor and you could see everyone literally sweating and breathing heavily kinda gross but whatever. You were going to the vesting room to take a good bath and smell good again, but you were stopped by a hand holding your wrist.

"Hey, princess." Fred's voice got to your ears before you could even turn around to see him and your cheeks started becoming warmer and redder. As your eyes found his, you could notice all of your friends around you two by your panoramic vision. "Were you worried about me?" The redheaded one asked and while you rolled your eyes and took your wrist out of his hand against what you actually wanted to do, everyone around you let out a few gross noises. They were all tired about Fred making fun of you. "Or you just missed me?"

"Oh, c'mon, Fred!"

"Could you not say anything for once?"

"You never shut up?"

"Let the girl be!"

Your friends said at the same time and you understood just a few of them. But you were too embarrassed to trust on your voice and be sure that you wouldn't stutter - and give him the satisfaction, never - so you just blushed harder and went to the vesting room again.

You just wanted to stab yourself with a big knife by being so shy, you thought about the perfect answer if you had said 'in your dreams, Weasley...' he would stop to joke about your feelings towards him.

"I should act like a Gryffindor..."

-

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked a few times, so your vision would get used to all the sunshine that was passing through the big window next to your bed, that was with the curtains open.

As you started to see things and not just black points, you were able to see Hermione looking at you. "Good morning, sleepyhead." She said and you noticed her coming closer to your bed, while your hand scratched your eyes.

"What time is it?" Your voice was deep and raspy, but even if you didn't notice it, for anyone around, looked like you were dying or that you were just drunk.

It's time for breakfast, let's go." Granger answered you and pulled the covers out of your warm body, that got in contact with the cold air from Hogwarts and you felt a little shiver passing through your spine. "What time you went to sleep last night?" She asked you, just by seeing the way that your eyes refused to open and get used to the room natural clarity.

"I don't know..." You groaned while sitting up and looking around, finding an empty dorm with just you and Hermione. Yeah, that was really late already.

"Go change, so we can have breakfast." Hermione said and helped you to get out of your bed by pulling you up with her hands at yours. You grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a fast shower so you two wouldn't miss breakfast - even if you didn't know the exact time...

While you were taking a hot bath and changing into more presentable clothes, Hermione was organizing your side of the dorm, like your bed and your other outfits at your wardrobe. This girl couldn't see a mess that she was already organizing it.

You were so focused on the amazing feeling 'after-bath' that you didn't notice footsteps at the stairs coming closer and closer to your dorm. As you got out of the bathroom, already ready to go to the Great Hall and finally eat anything, your dorm's door opened and Ron's head slowly appeared, probably being afraid that any of you two were changing or naked. When he saw that it was safe to give a proper look around your dorm, the door totally opened and you saw 3 redheads.

"What are taking you guys so much?" Ron asked and looked like just George noticed that you just got out of the bath.

"Was it hard to awake her again?" George looked at Hermione and everyone seemed to forget Ron's question, looking at you. Your eyes were too heavy to be totally open, your hair was a total mess, your shirt upside down... "Wow, it looks like you're dying." He said and everyone giggled, except for you that was too sleepy to understand anything that was happening around you.

But Fred knew that it was the perfect moment to make you flustered. "Want me to carry you to the Great Hall, princess?".

You were too sleepy to laugh, but not even now your knees stopped to become weak with his beautiful smirk, neither did your cheeks stopped to become warmer and redder. Stupid body...

Your brain was so focused to try to act normal and continue sleepy, that you didn't notice George slapping the back his twin's head and whispering something related to 'shut up', or Ron saying "Why you always have to do this with her?", or Hermione going to you while giving Fred a mortal glare and grabbing your shoulders, guiding you out of your dorm.

You were feeling so embarrassed with the way that just his smile could make your knees become jelly, your stomach becomes full with butterflies and your cheeks turn redder then Fred's hair...

"Why I can't act like a Gryffindor?"

-

Your books felt too heavy to be held by just one of your arms, but you couldn't stop to read your cards for the DADA's test that would happen at the next day. Even if you felt your arm shake and your shoulder starting to ache, you were desperate to know everything about all those spells.

Your hand was trying to learn the perfect moves so the spell would work totally, and you were so focused that didn't notice someone calling from you. You just saw that somebody was actually talking to you when the red-headed one tokes most of your books out of your arm and you jumped slightly by the first action noticed. As your eyes fell on Fred's face, you felt your body finally relax and gave up to the relieving feeling of the heavy books at somebody else's arms.

"Bloody hell, [y/n]!" The Weasley said at the same moment that he noticed how the books that you were taking were heavy for two arms, imagine for just one...

"Sorry, Freddie." You whispered and he looked at you, paying more attention to what you were going to say. "But I have Transfiguration now, I can't hang out." You finished and started to walk faster, forgetting about the books he was carrying for you. Fred just rolled his eyes with the way that you were so concentrated and focused on learning all those spells that you forgot that you were talking with your last Transfiguration partner.

"Well, we are in the same class." He said and you took your gaze out of the papers and looked at him, as you finally noticed with who you were talking to, your eyes widened a bit and you gave him a tired smile.

"Sorry, again. I'm just nervous about the DADA's test next week..." You said and looked at the floor embarrassed with your actions. But Fred just gave you a reassuring smile and you knew that he understood you - well, he's friends with Hermione Granger -, what made your tense shoulders tranquillize and you two walk side to side to your next class.

As you got to the class, you sat at your respective tables and waited for McGonagall, while the rest of the students was appearing and sitting...

After a while, the professor started to teach a new spell for the class something related to 'Daro' or 'Dure', that you weren't being able to focus at all, you weren't at a moment that you were could learn a new spell with all the other ones from DADA that you had to know for the test. And, of course, McGonagall noticed that you weren't paying attention to her, so you needed the help from someone that you would stop and hear.

"Mr Weasley." She said and both of the twins looked at her with confused faces, because this was a unique time that they didn't do anything. "Could you help Mrs. [y/l/n] with the new spell?" Minerva asked and you turned around to see the twins looking at each other and furrowing their eyebrows. "George one is more helpful."

Fred just rolled his eyes because the statement of the professor and George laughed at his angry expression, coming to sit next to you and noticing all of your books. "DADA's test?" He asked and you nodded, while your mouth opened in a yawn. You didn't even sleep 5 hours last night, you were so worried about all the spells that you couldn't stop studying. "Let me see you trying." George said and you knew that he was talking about this new spell from Transfiguration. Your shook your wand in a way that you thought that was the right way, said the spell and looked at the vase with flowers that McGonagall gave one to all of you. But nothing happened. "Well, the thing is tha-"

"I think [y/n] prefers my help, professor." Fred made everyone look at him, that winked at you. Everyone just groaned at him - even McGonagall ignored him -, they were all sick of all of his flirt comments, just to make you blush, and now wasn't different. Your breath stopped at your throat and with wide eyes and a dry mouth, your cheeks started to become warmer and you knew that you blushing.

Both of your hands went to cover you red and embarrassed face and George gave you an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry about him, [y/n/n]. He never stops..."

'I want to act like a Gryffindor, but I can't'

-

The snow was falling on this cold as fuck day. Not even the two coats you were wearing, were being able to stop the freezing air to make goosebumps go all around your body or to make your body became warm at anyway. And to make everything worse, Hogsmeade is not a cosy place to pass a normal day, but today was way worse. Your friends wanted to go to the Honeydunkes and buy anything that could make one of them forget about her recent 'heartbreak' - she cheated him, you can't understand why the rest of your friends keep helping her by something that she did... - but you weren't in the mood of being inside of a crowded store.

So, while they were inside of the warm store, you were freezing outside, with your shoulders shaking, trying to warm yourself at any possible way. You saw the Weasleys, with the rest of their crew coming to the same store as you were outside, great. As they were coming closer, Hermione and Harry were the first ones to notice you and let all of them behind to see you. 

"Hey, [y/n]!" They said together and hugged you. Wow, they were so cosy and you were so cold - and hoping they didn't notice that you were freezing... The twins came behind of them and said their 'hi's to you, but Fred toke notice of the way that you were hugging yourself to stop the wind to hit you, the way that your hands were brushing against each other to create some kind of friction between them, the way that your teeth were hitting each other, the way that your lips were a mix of blue and purple, and the way that your shoulders were frenetically shaking.

He just takes one of the sweaters Molly did for him and offered to you. Everyone around looked at the two of you with confused faces, while Fred's eyes were locked with yours. "You're cold." He just said and you whispered a little thank you, putting his sweatshirt on. It smelled like him and was really big on you, well, Fred is kind of really tall, comparing to you and any of your and his friends. "It looks better on you anyway..." He whispered while looking at the floor and raising his eyebrows, as it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

But, not even his whisper is delicate, so everyone ends listening to what he said and look at him with faces more confused than before. "Well, if you say so." The words got out of your mouth before anything could stop them, and your cheeks became warmer and redder than they were by wearing his cloth. All of his friends looked at you, with wide eyes and proud smiles, by you finally flirting back with Fred, but by the smile that grew up on his face, you knew that nothing good could come from it.

"And why would I lie to you, princess?" There it is. The comment that you were expecting but didn't want to come. Your knees felt weak, with the butterflies on your stomach, but one thing never changed, your cheeks blushing. Your whole body felt warmer, and you were sure that it wasn't because of the sweater.

"Shut up, Fred!"

"Stop being an asshole!"

"Leave her alone!"

You didn't even pay attention to the rest of them, you just turned around and got inside of the store as fast as your legs could take you. A full Honeydunkes felt more attractive than being embarrassed around Fred and all of his friends.

'He acts like a Gryffindor...'

- 

The sunset is beautiful at anyway, watching it from the TV, from the Astronomy Tower, from the big windows at the common room, at any dorm, but nothing compares to the way it looks at the Black Lake. When the sky becomes orange, purple, pink, yellow until it becomes dark and the stars shining... But all this show being reflected at the waters of the lake.

And you couldn't lose it today, just like you did the whole week. Every single day, you were doing something else that would make you busy until the sunset was totally over and the unique things shining in the sky, were the stars and the moon. It wasn't an ugly view or something, but it didn't have the same magic. It's even weird using the term 'magic' while being a student at Hogwarts and actually studying everything about real magic, but seeing something that not even professor Dumbledore could do or control, was kind of natural magic...

So, you finished your essay for Potions, that was just for next week (but if you let everything for the last day, you would have to be awake the whole night and wouldn't be as good as it is right now) and went to the Black Lake. At the way there, a few people from the same house as yours tried to stop you and chat, but you just gave various excuses to not talk to anyone, so you could get to your destination in time to see the perfect sunset.

As you got to the Black Lake, you saw the twins with a few of their friends talking more like shouting, but you just wanted to enjoy the view and relax a little bit after a really busy week, that's what the end of the Fridays are for...

You sat at the grass, putting your bag down beside you and pulling out a book, that Hermione gave to you about the history of magic and it was more interesting then you could have ever imagined, to have something to do until the sunset would start. With you back resting against a tree and crossed legs, you opened your book and tried to find where you had stopped to read.

After a few minutes of silence (or just a few waves of laughter from groups of friends that probably had all of their essays' pages in white and didn't even care about it), you noticed the way that the wind started to become colder and faster, all the distant voices were becoming harder and harder to hear and understand, and the natural light from the sun was different. 

Time for the show.

You put something at your book so you would know where you stopped to read at the next time you opened the book, put it at your bag again and just looked at the sky. It first started with a mix of yellow, pink and blue, and you never felt so peaceful. Until-

"Hey, princess." You rolled your eyes, already knowing who it was. Fred already put his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him and, if you weren't so relaxed with the breathtaking view and mad that he just ruined the quiet place, you would've blushed... "Enjoying the view? Because I am." You didn't even have to turn your head or take your eyes out of the coloured sky to know that he was looking and talking about you. "C'mon, not even a little red for me?" Fred continued talking, trying to get your attention. And he didn't stop there. He started babbling about anything, to see if you would blush with any of the compliments, but what you really just wanted silence. And you knew pretty well that just asking for him to stay quiet or saying for him to shut up, he wouldn't stop talking. You had to stop him at someway, and you thought about various things to say or do. And then, just one of them felt right.

You turned your head to look at him, that smiled brightly seeing that he finally got the attention he wanted, but before you could stop yourself or he could think of anything else, your hands went to his face pulled him into yours. Fred finally stopped talking when your lips touched his.

He kissed you back at the same moment he noticed that one of the two of you finally did what he was fantasizing about since he first saw you in your fourth year. Your lips were just as soft as he had imagined, but they tasted like pumpkin juice (your favourite), with a little bit of strawberries (of your gloss). While his lips fitted just as perfectly with yours as they looked like they would, with a flavour of chocolate and mint toothpaste.

You slowly pulled apart from each other, but with your noses still touching, your breaths hitting each other's mouths and lips brushing against one another, while Fred opened the brightest smile you had ever seen, just like you, but with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"You wouldn't stop talking..." You just whispered and you even thought that he didn't hear what you said, but when his cheeks became redder than his own hair, you just giggled.

'I finally acted like a Gryffindor...'

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[troubatrain]

cowboy like me - m. barzal

a/n: omg suddenly she remembers how to write - so this is bigger than a blurb but definitely shorter than a fic so i’m calling it a baby fic!! i really haven’t written anything i love (or have been able to finish) in weeks so this feels really good to post so i hope you guys like it!!!

tagging @texanstarslove & @hookingminor because they both read this ahead of time to tell me it’s not trash (and i appreciate it sm!!)

“...and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up, and the old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one...”

She’s only here for her inheritance.

I heard she was dating a CEO but she got caught having an affair with his assistant.

Careful Barz, you might be next after that contract.

Mat’s gaze was held on you while he listened to his teammates and their wives gossip next to him. Mat saw you twice, maybe three times a year, only when you were forced to show your face at an Islanders event. Other than that, Mat knew no more about than Page Six did about Manhattan’s new up and coming socialite. Your family owned the team, putting a pretty penny in your pocket as long as you kept up with appearances, or at least that’s what Sydney seemed to think. You looked perfect, a silk floor length dress that Mat couldn’t imagine wasn’t made for only your body, hair pinned up perfectly while a pair of earrings hung low. Diamonds for sure. Everything about you was eloquent and expensive, and Mat had heard just about every rumor in the book about you.

Mat felt good about himself that night. He was on a point streak and having a monster season. He was wearing a suit that was tailored to absolute perfection, Mat’s dark brown locks tousled perfectly on his head. There was no reason that he couldn’t just walk up to you and finally take a moment to introduce himself to you instead of gawking at you from afar like he’d been doing since he was a rookie. He was a kid then, and you were probably dating a prince or the son of a millionaire and had no time for a dorky kid from Vancouver. Now, Mat was a man with a contract to match and hopes that you could give him the time of day at least. His gazes lingers a bit longer, watching the way your eyes rolled briefly at whatever that man was saying to you. You excuse yourself, waving your empty wine glass in your and like Mat was stalking his prey - this was the moment.

“You’re not very subtle you know,” You muse, looking over at Mat who was leaning against the bar getting a drink of his own, “And blue’s a better color on you.”

Being a bitch was second nature to you. The way scoring came to Mat or business came to your father and siblings. It was easy to be snarky, because snarky kept people at a distance. Besides, no one thought much about you that didn’t involve how many commas were in your bank account or the constant debate about whether or not you’d gotten a nose job when you were eighteen. If they wanted nothing more than a pretty face, then that’s what you’d give them.

“Noted,” Mat takes a gulp of his drink, and your eyes linger a little too long at his hand wrapped around a glass, “You want to dance?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You hum, taking a sip of your drink. Mat Barzal had a reputation that was cleaner than your own, the Islanders golden boy if you will, but you knew better than that. You knew about the revolving door in his apartment and all of the girls who got strung along in hopes they’d get to be the ones who wore that number thirteen jersey to games. Mat Barzal was no saint, and it didn’t matter how many rich men he convinced he was.

“No harm in dancing darling,” Mat husks, voice close to your ear while you desperately hoped he didn’t see the goosebumps on your arm. Mat was throwing you off your game, but it’s a welcome feeling. Darling. You liked that one, tired of the men who constantly called you babe or baby.

“One dance Barz,” You took his hand, letting him guide you to the middle of the tent that your parents had set up on the tennis court in the same home you grew up in. Your hand remained in his, your other gripping his shoulder while you swayed back and forth, “You know your teammates are staring.”

And they were. Mat turns his head, stifling a laugh at Tito’s jaw that was practically on the floor, “Let them.”

“Not afraid of the rumors?” You hum, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder, “Or are you just like me?”

“Like you?” Mat asks, raising his eyebrows at you, grabbing your and spinning you around before he pulled you closer.

“You don’t want love, just a fancy car or two and girls falling at your feet. You’ll ride into town and leave with more damage done than the time before but you’ll always get away with it. You’ll tell all the stuck up rich people anything they want to hear to keep up appearances. A cowboy if you will,” You explain, a smile on Mat’s face telling you that maybe you nailed it on the head.

“And what if those rumors about me aren’t true?” Mat asks, lips ghosting over yours but he won’t kiss you just yet.

“And what if the ones about me aren’t true?” You quip back to avoid Mat’s question about whether or not you believed any of the shit you heard about him.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

***

And so you did. It wasn’t supposed to happen, you took Mat home that night no intentions of ever speaking to him again. He was going to leave your place and you were going to be another notch in his bedpost. Because that’s what the Mat Barzal’s of the world did. And you were right after all, Mat Barzal was a bandit, who stole the hearts of the women he saw and deleted their numbers without a second thought.

Except Mat wasn’t going to that with you, well he was, but when he woke up the next morning to see you perched in the chair by the window in your apartment, sipping a cup of tea - he didn’t want to leave. You looked so normal, your walls finally down in the comfort of your own space and suddenly Mat needed to know why you had them up so high to begin with. Mat found out quickly, it was the pressure of the people around you. Your family needed you to be perfect, but they didn’t think you’d be good enough for the family business like your brothers.

I just hope she doesn’t ruin him like Oliver.

Mat needs someone who’s going to support him.

She’s just going to hurt him and he’s going to play like shit because of it.

“Would you just stop for a second?” Mat had been chasing you three blocks from the restaurant he was having a nice dinner with you and your family at. He wasn’t supposed to hear them, but he did and you were embarrassed, “Darling-”

“Mat, stop just stop,” You sigh, finally slowing down because those stupid heels you chose to wore were killing your feet. You shiver for a second, Mat’s large hands move to

your arms to try and warm you up, “Go ahead, ask what horrible thing I did to drive my last boyfriend away… because it wasn’t my fucking fault. He was using me, just like everyone else does and-”

“I believe you,” Mat rushes out, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. It wasn’t the first time one the skeletons in either of your closets would try and tear you apart, and it probably wasn’t going to last. There was always going to be brunches with his teammates who hounded him about his girlfriend’s past or whatever rumor they were hearing. There would always be times their significant others would grab your arm in a crowd when Mat was having a conversation with another woman like he was going to hurt you. That wasn’t going away, but it also didn’t matter to him at all. All of that was before he locked it down, things were different now.

Mat went back to your place that night, taking note of the way one of his suits was pressed and in your closet for him, like he belonged there. He smiled at it, the blue suit you insisted he bought because it was the best color on him, “You’re not mad at me right?”

“Why would I be mad darling?” Mat sighs, smiling softly at his shirt that you seemed to always steal when you stayed over. You give him a look like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “I love you, and I don’t care about the past. It’s you and me now and that’s what matters.”

Mat hadn’t said it yet, waiting for the right moment for him to drop a four letter word he never thought he’d ever use. He’d thought it plenty of times, but he was saving for when the moment felt right. Maybe he’d drop it on the trip you had planned in a few weeks, or after a nice date, but you needed to hear it from him now. He loved you, everything down to the way you snored if you had too much to drink.

“I love you too,” You nod, wiping the last tear that had fallen from your eyes, “Cowboy.”

“Call me that forever,” Mat husks, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “And ever.”

[unloved-cadillac]

My Sweetheart.(A Levi x Reader Oneshot)

I found this writing prompt on Pinterest but you can find writing.prompt.s on Instagram.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 2.5𝗄

It’s been years since high school. You left everything behind in Sina and moved to London to pursue your art career and it took off. But now after your art had all been successfully sold and some displayed in art museums, you decided to move back home to teach art at Sina College.

You didn’t come back empty handed. Hange, your close friend who you met in London, landed a job here as well. So, making things easier you offered to share an apartment with her and she agreed.

“So, are you going to hang up your art like how you did in London?” Hange asks and you shake your head. “Nah. I’m not so narcissistic.” You say and place a box on the floor. “Narcissistic? Your art is beautiful and deserves to be displayed!” She shouts and you laugh. “Thanks for the compliment, Han. But after the gallery did so good back there and everything got sold, I have to make some more.” You explain and walk into the kitchen with Hange following close behind. “Yeah. I wonder who bought all of those paintings. They paid double the price, isn’t it?” She asks and you nod. “I wish I could’ve met them. Whoever they are to thank them. They technically saved me from going bankrupt.” You joke. ”Oh! That reminds me. Can you run down to the store and get some snacks? I’m starving here!” Hange holds her stomach in mock hunger. “Ugh. Now I need to change. I was going to the store anyway, but I need to run down to the bank to withdraw some cash.” You say and head to your room to put on some reasonable clothes and grab your bag on the way out.

Luckily, your apartment was set in a very convenient location from the mall, small stores and banks. It really was a jackpot apartment. Walking into the bank, you stand in the cue and wait. Playing on your phone and listening to music, you see the line started to move. When you came up to the counter, you remove your earphones and look at the girl behind the glass. “Hi there. I came to make a withdrawal.” You say and take out your bank details and card. “How much do you-..” “EVERYONE HANDS UP! DON’T MOVE!” You hear and turn around to see men with black masks on with guns in their hands, aiming it around. Oh great. I’m going to die, you think and look at the people. One of them moved past you and you carefully moved your hands up. On their right arms, they had white and blue wings patched into it. Some sort of gang? Another masked man, caught your eye and you could see his eyes widen and started to panic. “Yo! Roll out.” He says, still looking at you. “What?! Why?! We didn’t even get the money!” One says and looks at his leader. “That’s her. We can’t do this while she’s here. Don’t aim at her. MOVE OUT!” The leader says and runs away while others look at you, while lowering their guns. They turned around and headed out of the bank, leaving everyone in shock and looking at you. You exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and hold your chest. “Who are you?” Someone asks you. You look at them, still in shock. “Just an ordinary person.” You say, breathing heavily. “Well, you just saved our lives and the bank from getting robbed.” They say and you furrow your eyebrows. What the hell?

~~~~~

“So they just left?! Just like that?!?” Hange yells out and grabs your shoulders. “Yeah. It was so weird.” She hugs you, squeezing you a bit. “I’m so glad that your okay!” She says and you pat her back. “Yeah. I’m fine. But I still don’t know what to think.” You say and sip your whiskey. You think of the situation and those patches. “Hange.” You call her and she hums. “They had this symbol. A white wing overlapping a blue one. Any idea?” You ask and she taps her chin before going to her laptop. You leave her to do her thing as you hear the clicking of keys. “Come here. And check this out.” Hange says and you walk to her, sitting on the arm of the sofa. You look at her laptop screen. “This symbol is the Wings of Freedom. It’s a symbol of the crime syndicate called “Titan’s of Death”. Ugh, scary.” Hange says and you scroll down. Members were over one thousand and they were everywhere but most were situated here in Sina. “It says here people who don’t pose a threat to the Titans are on a No Harm list. The list isn’t revealed to protect the identity of them but it’s said to have only a few names. Y/n! What if your name was on there?!” Hange shouts and you scoff. “Why would my name be there? I’ve never heard of these people before.” You say and cross your arms. Hange scrolls further and comes across the leader of the group. You had left the sofa to go get your whiskey from the counter when Hange spoke up. “Do you know a “Levi Ackerman”?” You stop dead in your tracks and look at her. Levi? No it can’t be. “Do you have a picture of him?” You ask and she nods her head motioning to the laptop. You walk slowly to her and look at the laptop. There he was. Levi. The boy who had your heart all these years. Your high school sweetheart. “Levi.” You whisper and touch his picture. He kept the undercut. His face had lost his little baby fat he had when he was younger and became chiseled. He looked so handsome. You smile a bright smile while blushing furiously. “Y/n! Who is he to you?! He’s making you blush and it’s just his picture!” You look up to her, still smiling brightly. “He’s an...while I can’t say ex. But we dated back in high school. We ended things because I had to move ASAP to London and he couldn’t come with me. But, God I loved him. It broke the both of us when we had to leave.” You recall the memory.

It was sad. That was the only time you had seen Levi cry and just thinking about his face like that made you ache. “Why didn’t you two keep in touch?” Hange asks and looks back at his photo. “We tried. But life had other plans for us. His social media disappeared and numbers changed. Mine did too and once I lost his number I couldn’t find him again.” You explain, while staring at his photo. “Maybe it’s because he became the leader of this place and couldn’t risk having his number everywhere.” Hange reasons with you and you agree. “Yeah. Seems about right.” You sniffle and wake up while holding your cheeks. All of the memories that you had with him came flooding back in and all of the love you had for him clouded your mind and heart. You turn to Hange and smile. “Where is the Titan of Death’s headquarters?” You ask and Hange looks through the page. “Oh. It’s right here. Downtown though. Oof. Dangerous. Wait. Don’t tell me..” “Yes, Hange. I’m going to see him.”

Later that night, you logged into your old iCloud account, the one you had in highschool. It was filled with old pictures of your friends from back there and...Levi. You two went out for two years. Although it may seem a short time to others, to the both of you, it felt like eternity. You chuckle at all the funny pictures you took with him. One where he stayed over for the first time, while he slept, you drew all over his face. There was another one where you both were sharing a coke with two straws. You had yours in your mouth and looked at the camera while Levi had his in his mouth and looked at you. That was a good day. You go back to your browser and look at the opened tab with Levi’s picture. For a 25 year old, he didn’t look a day over 21. The Ackerman gene, huh? You smile at what he will think seeing you after all these years. You were very confident in seeing him again. After transferring some photos to your current phone, you go to bed but only slept two hours later since you were so excited. So you drifted into a dreamless sleep after thinking about Levi.

~~~~~

Waking up a bit earlier than usual, you pick out a good outfit and smile. You couldn’t stop smiling because that’s the effect this boy had on you. He made you feel so happy and safe and loved, which made you think about what would have happened if you didn’t break up. If he moved with you to London. Both of you would probably be married by now. But snapping out of that thought and jumping the gun, you head out of your room to see Hange watching TV. You stand in front of it and show off your outfit. “What do you think? Too much?” You ask and Hange squeals. “Oh, Y/n! It’s perfect. I still can’t believe your ex is a mafia boss.” She says and you laugh. “Me neither. But I have to see him again. I never knew how much I missed him until I saw his picture. Now send me the directions and I’ll see you later, Han.” You say and wink at her. “Stay safe. Take pepper spray please.” She says and you show off your can. Heading to your car, your phone dings with Hange’s tone. You see she sent the directions and you skip to your car. Levi.

Driving with the GPS on, you head into downtown Sina. You had never been here and you remember Levi saying all those years ago that you should never head there alone. Well, too late now baby. A lot of people walked around openly with their guns in their hands or holsters. You weren’t afraid. If you were in Levi’s ‘No Harm’ list, you were sorted. You have arrived at your destination. You hear your GPS say and you look at the big ass gate. It was black with a whole lotta cameras and whole lotta guards. Rolling down your window, you look at the camera and at the guards. One of them walked to you. “What business do you have at the Ackerman mansion?” He asks and you clear your throat. “H-hello there. I’m Y/n L/n. Levi is…” You get cut off by the man shouting. “She’s good. Let her in!” He turns back to you and smiles. You smile back and thank him. You drive to the house and park next to another car. Hopping out, a tall man waits for you. You walk up the stairs and the man greets you. “Hello, Ms L/n. I’m Mike Zecharius. The Boss would see you shortly. He’s in a meeting right now, so please, head inside to the main lounge while you wait.” He explains and you smile. “Nice to meet you, Mike. Thank you.” You say and walk into the house and wow. Was this place huge. It was a combination of white, black and grey. But mostly white. So Levi. You walk into, what you hoped was, the main langue and looked around. The walls had paintings and you furrow your eyebrows. Making your way around the big room, you realized: these were your paintings. Most of your work was proudly displayed here. Oh. Levi. It was you. You think and bit your lip to suppress a giggle. The one that caught your eye was the one that was in the middle of the wall. It was one of the first ones you painted which you had gifted Levi for his birthday. It was painted on black paper while you used only white paint. It was two albino peacocks by a lake, one had their head on the others with the words, “ ‘We Loved With a Love That Was More Than Love.’- Edgar Allen Poe.” You smile at the memory and the message that was written behind it. “Happy birthday & Merry Christmas, Levi” you start to say while running your hand on the frame, “My days have been so much happier since you entered my life. Thank you. It’s you, because..” “Because no one else makes sense.” You heard a voice complete the message and you turn around to see him. Standing there, with his full black suit and his hair in the same style from all those years ago. You smile so much and you could feel tears form but quickly wipe them away. “Levi..” you whisper and he smiles back to you. “Y/n.” He says and walk to you. You’re so overwhelmed by happiness that you just hide your face in your hands. You felt him right in front of you and you look up from your hands to be met with the sight of his chest. God, he smells so good. You feel his hand on your cheek and you look up at his face. He looked so much better in person. “Hello, sweetheart.” He says and you smile. “I-, oh my gosh. Levi. It’s you. It’s really you.” You say and move your hands around his neck and hug him. You tuck your face in his neck and smile. “It’s me.” He simply says and hugs you tighter.

You pull away from him, but still in his embrace and sigh. “What happened? I lost all contact with you.” You say and he moves a stray hair behind your ear. “It’s such a long story, Y/n.” Levi says. “How about you tell me over dinner?” You say and he raises his eyebrow and smirks. “Dinner? I can make that happen. Tonight? 8?” He asks and you nod. “Wait. Yesterday, at the bank..” you start to say and he smiles softly. “When I became the leader here, I was given the option of a ‘No Harm’ list. Your name was the first one I wrote down.” He says softly and you smile. “Oh, Levi.” You smile and look at him. As you were about to say something again, both of you were interrupted. “Boss, sorry to disturb. But there’s an urgent call for you.” One of his men say and he scoffs. “Tch. Alright. I’ll be there just now. Tell them to wait.” He says and looks back at you. “I’m sorry. But dinner..” “I’ll see you at 8.” You say and start to walk away but stop suddenly and bite your lip. You turn back and walk up to him and kiss his cheek. “Call me, okay?” You say and place a card into his pocket. Levi nods and watches you walk away while grazing his finger along his cheek. He could still feel your warm lips on them. He takes out the card and looks at it.

Y/n L/n Arts.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Xoxo

He smiles softly and puts it in his inside pocket. Levi never wanted a day to go faster than right now. He had to let you go 7 years ago and he’s not going to make that mistake again.

———————————————————————

“I live for Mafia Levi.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[darkmulti]

Having twins with y!jk so you run away because he wasn’t stable enough to be a dad, but he gets angry and forced u to come back.

-> sorry for any mistakes

⚠️: HEAVY YANDERE BEHAVIOUR, NON CON-ISH

-> uhh, this is kinda dark. Don’t proceed if you’re not comfortable and I definitely do not condone this kind of behaviour. This is all FICTIONAL!

When you were having pregnancy symptoms, you started re-thinking all your life choices

If you hadn’t gone to that bar on that night, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation

You ended up getting kidnapped by a drug lord, psychopath who’s obsessed with you

He never let you out of his sight

Even if he was on a mission, he had cameras installed to watch you

The man even forced you to marry him because he liked the idea of calling you his wife

no one besides him was allowed to talk to you

You were going insane talking to yourself

anytime you talk to him, it would end up with you under him crying his name

You’ve been “with” him for 3 years now

You’ve been married to him for 2 years

The first year was hell

He didn’t allow you to leave the basement and “forgot” to feed you often

He fucked you every night for hours without stopping

He had so much anger stored up in him and it was taken out on you

You were absolutely terrified of him

He did not communicate well

He had rough sex with you anytime you pissed him off or if he was angry in general

Jungkook was cold and strict

He was so used to getting what he wants, he didn’t know how to get you other than forcing you

The pain would increase everytime so, you ended up submitting yourself out of fear

Jungkook would degrade you and make you feel worthless which was hurting you a lot

However, it did get a little better after submitting yourself

He let you out of the basement

You got meals everyday and you were allowed to wander the house

You share a room and bathroom with him like any other couple

After submitting, he wanted to get married and you had no choice but to agree

If you didn’t agree, he’d probably torture you for the rest of your life

After agreeing, he planned a huge wedding and paid for everything

It was a big day for both of you

Of course Jungkook had to go over the top

Other than family (on Jungkook’s side) mafias, politicians, world leaders, CEOs were all attending the wedding

After the wedding he took you on a beautiful honeymoon

That time of your life was the best

He was gentle and sweet

It was like he turned into a new person

But it soon ended when you both returned from the honeymoon

It was back to being a living sex doll for him

You needed to tell Jungkook that you have no more pills but he left early in the morning

You got up and had a pretty normal day until he came home

When he arrived, you got up to hug him, but he pushed you to the floor and yelled at you

“FUCK! THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!”

You didn’t know what he was talking about but you apologized anyways just in case

“I’m sorry! P- Please, I- I don’t know what I did b-but I’m r-really sorry!” You said, sobbing

He pulled you up and slammed your face against the wall before pulling down your skirt and panties

He rammed in without lub, earning a struggled scream from you

He dominated you completely

You were shaking in fear

Your legs went numb and you collapsed on the floor

He left you there on the floor and went upstairs

If you told him now, he would definitely be angry with you

A couple days later, you were having pregnancy symptoms so you put two and two together

You kept your pregnancy a secret for as long as you could

Luckily, Jungkook was going out of the country due to a heist he planned

Since he was leaving, he added extra security to make sure you won’t runaway during that time

Jungkook was extremely stressed about the hesit so the last thing he needed was you running away from him

But you of course took this as your chance to leave as well

You booked a bus ticket on Jungkook’s computer and printed the ticket out

You took all the cash you could find and left

You manage to fool his security somehow and escape to the bus stop

You couldn’t go to the police either because they had some kind of alliance

You knew Jungkook would be right on your ass after you escaped because of all the security cameras he has

Plus he could look at the computer and printer history to see where your bus was going

But you had a couple hours head start

somehow with the couple hundred dollars you had, you manage to escape from him until your two sons were born

You moved cities about three times until you were 8 months pregnant

While you were pregnant you worked three jobs to save as much as you could

Then you opened a bank account with your children’s name, not your own or else Jungkook could track you down

You put all your earnings into that bank account and depended on it for survival

You were living in a small, cheap apartment with your two sons

You went on maternity leave so your jobs were still paying you a little bit

You only went out when necessary

It seemed impossible

You had absolutely nothing but your boys kept you going

You wouldn’t eat for days because you were afraid of spending too much

You wanted to go to the food bank to get some food but it’s a hassle to get the kids ready and take them on the bus

It was hard and dangerous so you’d rather not eat until it was necessary

You thought to yourself that you may have it hard now, but at least you’re away from Jungkook

Well that all came crashing down when he broke in your apartment at midnight with his men

You were petrified

You grabbed your kids and hid them in the closet

They were crying but you quickly hushed them and covered them with your clothes before going at to Jungkook and begging for forgiveness

He was angry of course

He was about to slap you but he heard a child’s cry which made him stop

Jungkook raised his eyebrow before pushing you out of the way and going towards the crying

You quickly get in front of the closet and beg him not to hurt his own children

“Get out of my way! You’ve already done enough! What are you hiding from me?!”

He opened your closet door only to see the boys crying

Jungkook noticed how they looked exactly like him

“So this is why you left? I was a dad this whole time.”

“I’m s-sorry. I thought you’d hurt me or the kids.”

“SO YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE ME WITH MY KIDS?!” He yelled, making the kids cry harder along with you

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t kn-know what to do.” You sobbed

“Jungkook you can hurt me all you want, but don’t hurt our kids, p-please. I did everything for them. D-don’t hurt them please.”

“Take the kids in the car. I have to talk to her.”

His men took them away and you both were left

You were still hesitant about your kids leaving without you, but you couldn’t do anything

You started to breathe normally and spoke

“Jungkook please. I regret everything. I’m sorry. It was hard for me to make the decision but I really thought you were going to hurt our kids. Please don’t hurt them. Please. I’ll do anything. You can kill me if you’d like but please promise me that you’ll t-take care of them.”

He closed the room door and walks towards you

You knew exactly where this was going

And you submitted yourself again

His men took your kids back to his place while he fucked you non-stop

Jungkook had never been this rough with you

You were so hungry and feeling a thick cock thrusting in your empty stomach hurt so badly

But the entire time you were thinking about your kids

You’re doing this for them

It’s okay if you get hurt as long as they are safe

You were slowing losing yourself

Your body was low on energy

Jungkook was completely dominating you

He pinned you down and fucked your empty stomach for as long as he could

He kept telling you that he’s going to take your kids away from you and put them up for adoption so you started to cry harder

“Jungkook please! Don’t do that please! You can use me h-however you want, b-but don’t... don’t t-take them away from me.”

Jungkook was only scaring you

He wanted to keep his sons as well but seeing you so hurt turned him on

He fucked you until the sun came up then pulled out and collapsed on top of you

“This is just the beginning of your punishment. Just wait until we get home.”

[sunlightandsuffering]

Prompt : they are both famous and secretly dating.

tbh I don't know what this is or if it makes any sense at all, so sorry anon for butchering ur prompt, but I'm a basic bitch and I like my drake, so like this is gonna be pain bcuz my favourite song on the new album is just pain and I can't stop thinking about a fucked up celebs relationship to it, just ANGST AND PAIN!! 😭😭 but those lyrics hit, can't believe I wrote a song fic ugh circa Tumblr 2015 jfc I'mma write a happier ending to this in another prompt 😂 bc someone else asked for the same thing.

Fucking Fans

I'm still working on me

Eren stands at the Met Gala, holding Mikasa by the waist, giving a cramped smile for photos and keeping her close. People call their names and cameras flash and his beloved blinks, hiding her face into his shoulder as the lights overwhelm her.

He looks down at her lovingly as some jackass reporter yells about a cheating rumour and her pretty face pinches up. Eren is quick to comfort her with his touch, both hands gripping her waist reassuringly as he decides it's time for them to go inside.

"Come on Miki," he kisses her forehead and she nods, accepting. Neither of them wants to think about those rumours, the damage and the pain they bring up is too much and it's all his fault, he knows, but he can't undo it.

The guilt eats at him and she holds his hand tighter, the despair takes him and she cuddles him at night.

They're together now but sometimes Eren wonders just how it happened, how he came back from falling so far. How she took him back when he fucked up so massively.

And I'm coming back better for you

The day he shows up on her door step again is the day of the biggest awards show of the season, the one he knows she's going to kill and probably sweep several categories. Just because she's that amazing. He finds her where he expects, in her apartment, the address Armin gave him, doing her own hair and makeup, humble Mikasa just like always, ironing out her own dress. He shows up in a suit with as many white roses as he can fit into a bouquet and ready to leave if she still hates him, which she has every right to.

But he's been through months of therapy, gave Armin control of his bank account, and check himself into rehab thrice, every time he was even inching closer to relapse.

He's not fixed, but he's better, marginally, and he wants her to know it, know he still loves her at the very least.

She opens the door, beautiful even without makeup, and wearing a white slip and her pretty red mouth parts in shock.

All he can do is hold out his roses as tears leave his eyes at seeing her for the first time in months.

Most times it was my selfishness and your helplessness that I took advantage of

It was so easy with Mikasa, she was so devoted to him. So loving and sweet, always there for him.

She'd wait up, let him do what he wanted, never wanting to stifle or control him. Too afraid their tenuous relationship would crack and they'd break up.

A part of him blames her for it, for being so willing to let him do what he wanted. She'd been passive, unsure how to insert herself, had minimal complaints, letting him ruin his life party by party, late night after late night, drugs and alcohol all of it.

But he knows he can never hold her accountable for his own actions, and the day she's finally done with his bullshit is both the best and worst day of his life. She finally says no, and it begins his path to fixing himself. Because hitting rock bottom is losing the most important thing in his life, and that's Mikasa.

You sit in the house and I be out and I know you're worried, up

The problem with her passivity is he knows it's not passivity at all, she just doesn't know what to do, how to fix him. Eren has always had a temper, and she's known him for a long time, knows he'll lash out and behave worse if provoked. So she'd reacted as best she could, leaving rehab pamphlets out, asking him to stay in and watch movies, bake with her, anything other than going out to party.

But he'd stumble home every night and see her asleep on the couch, waiting. Always there to pick him up instead of a cab, not wanting the paparazzi to get a hold of him, she was always there.

And you try and block it out

They lived in a bubble, they pretended it didn't happen. They didn't acknowledge when he was too hungover to shoot the next morning. She'd brew him coffee, get him through the day, flush his drug stash when they checked, both his saving grace and biggest enabler.

Even when he's kissing her for more than just an on-screen kiss, lips drinking her in like a man starved, and the next morning she finds new girls in his bed, she keeps quiet.

They're a mess, but every time she dutifully kicks the girls out and drags him to the shower.

I'm so sorry for letting you down

When he'd first become famous, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been scouted for how many movies, tv-shows, underwear commercials, brand deals. It was a whirlwind as Hollywood found their new boy wonder, handsome, smart and a nice boy.

His best friend, and female love interest in their debut movie, Mikasa, who had followed him to Hollywood on nothing more than a whim, was equally bombarded with fame and fortune. They'd always been close, always best friends, but never quite more, no matter how much they both obviously wanted it. It never progressed beyond a few acted kisses.

Still, they got an apartment together, and Eren had thought it was the start of something great, he was living the dream. Rich and famous with his best friend, the girl he'd secretly loved since he was young.

He'd been content just to stay up late and watch movies with her before work, to visit her on set and bring her donuts. They were Hollywood's shining stars, two kids sickeningly sweet in love even though they weren't officially dating, they were as good as.

At the advice of his agent, he'd started doing more, started picking up a few other gigs on the side, modelling, but he kept it small, he didn't want to overwhelm himself, and he still wanted time for Mikasa.

It had gone well, they'd taken fame okay, and Eren had been proud, neither of them had a sex-scandal or a pregnancy scare yet. They'd even been inching towards finally being something more than just friends, a few heated looks, some on-stage kisses to finally get the ball rolling.

Then Mikasa had been cast in an upcoming romance movie and her love interest hadn't been Eren, it had been Jean.

That had been the start of his spiral.

He'd never meant for it to get so far out of control, how many movies he started doing, how many promotions. Meanwhile Mikasa, smart, brilliant Mikasa stuck with smaller projects and only ever one at a time, preferring to keep close to their apartment. He was all she had, and she was all he wanted.

Nights when I just needed to hold somebody

He misses her, lays in bed awake at night thinking about her, how long it’s been, when was the last time he saw the curve of her face in person and not in a washed-out picture on a magazine. Girls in and out of his apartment, trying to fill the empty void inside him, and nothing works, nothing ever works. Because he’d fucked it up, said he didn’t need her, told her he could do it on his own, fame wouldn’t take him. Called each other names, every one in the book, screaming matches over stupid shit, if he should take that job, what she was doing with Jean, how she was eating, if she was eating enough.

The toxicity was palpable in their apartment until finally Mikasa just left and he broke.

Feeling overwhelmed, should've told somebody

Fame takes him like a drug addiction, actually it comes with a drug addiction, heroine, cocaine, molly, all of it. In trying to ditch his Hollywood’s sweetheart, good boy image he diverts his life so radically he doesn’t know if he can ever get back to where he was. He loses weight, barely gets by, he doesn’t even understand how he’s still getting booked, but people want him even more now that he’s Hollywood’s bad boy. Meanwhile Mikasa is disgraced now that he’s ‘thrown her away’ even though it was the other way around. Last he heard she lived in a little apartment on the upper east side, leaves only to work, and to fly up to see their families. He hasn’t seen his parents in months, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realize how skinny he’s gotten, how his body lacks muscle, skin barely clinging to bone, gaunt and lifeless.

He needs help, but he’s spiraling, he’s committed and no matter how many times Armin tries to get him into rehab, he never goes. What’s the point Mikasa is gone, he’s not getting her back, all he has now is the money, the drugs, and the women.

Picturin' it's me sending chills through your body

He hears she’s dating Jean now and somehow, he gets worse.

Every fear he’d ever had comes to life and he gets angry, his temper coming back full force. The past few months he’d barely been getting by, not really living, but his rage awakens him. She’d told him no, that they weren’t dating, never so much as kissed outside of work. What a fucking lie.

How many girls he takes home that month he doesn’t know, how many paparazzi photos of women leaving his apartment, how he dreams it’s Mikasa under him, not some rando.

He sees her on the cover of some magazine, walking innocently with Jean and it sends him into even more of a rage, but under it all he wishes it was him, doesn’t matter that they were never official, that it only happened a few times, he wants her back. But Eren’s never been good at navigating his emotions, so he clings to his rage like a lifeline.

I just probably should've chilled 'til I saw you

When they ask about her in interviews, he doesn’t answer. Not until that once, when he lets it slip and he watches Armin wilt in real time from behind the camera as he spits the words, “I think it’s obvious, she’s with Jean now isn’t she, right after she was with me, figure it out yourself.”

The insinuation is lethal, cruel, mean and he knows it’s not true, but he says it anyway. He knows she didn't do it, but still the coincidence hurts too much, the very thought that there might have been something romantic going on with them before makes him want to throw up.

The interviewer looks shocked before he brightens up at the tidbit of information, like a vulture picking apart the last pieces of his heart, massacring it further, but Eren doesn’t mind the pain anymore. It fuels his rage and that’s all he has these days.

How am I supposed to get to know somebody?

When the rage wears off months later and Mikasa has done nothing, no comment on his interviews, no appearances, no angry texts, just silence, he becomes numb. Then the sadness sets in, because losing her romantically isn’t even the worst part, he doesn’t even have his best friend anymore, he’s lost her too.

She’s become a recluse, a hermit, he hasn’t even seen her with Jean on the magazine covers lately. Distantly he knows it’s because their movie is finished filming, and she was probably never dating him in the first place.

He goes to awards shows in hopes of at least catching a glimpse but she’s gone into hiding, there’s rumours she’s back in their hometown, but he’d never visit, not with the disgrace he’s become. He tries to date seriously, tries to talk to other actresses, but it’s all so vacant, disingenuous. All they want him for is his image, there’s nothing real about these women anymore, everything is fake, plastic right down to their boobs. Nothing like Mikasa, who was pure to her core, even in the face of her fame.

If we broke it off then you know it wasn't painless

He'd cried for weeks after she'd ended it, despite it being entirely his fault.

Armin had cancelled all his engagements and Eren hadn't left the apartment, curling himself up on her empty mattress, her room a barren wasteland.

He'd only eaten when Armin forced him too, and only come out of his hibernation after his mother had called to yell, Armin holding the phone right in his ear, the first time he'd spoken to her in forever.

If she got a watch then you know it's not a stainless

He’s got money, but it means nothing. Mikasa has money too, it doesn’t even matter. What has it all been for? He doesn’t even know anymore. All he’s gotten from his acting career is trust issues, more money than he knows what do with and the loss of his best friend and the only girl he’s ever loved.

It’s all a blur now, he acts, he models, he does PR. Armin makes him a schedule and he follows it. They meet with his nutritionist and his personal trainer, and he starts working out again, eating real food, not just smoking, and drinking coffee to supress his appetite.

Armin is the only reason he’s still a functioning human being as Eren hits rock bottom. The only one left to try and push him out.

I was out here fucking fans, I was shameless

He knows he fucked up, it’s why he starts therapy.

The shit he’d done, high off his own fame and arrogance, it’s messed up and he he knows it now. All the girls, all the money and the drugs, ignoring Mikasa’s concerns, dragging her down with him.

He doesn’t blame her now, he knows none of it was fair, she was justified in leaving. They were toxic, their half on, half off relationship, how he'd commit to the drugs but never her.

He can still remember the first time he kissed her, really kissed her, Eren and Mikasa not two characters on screen. It was after their first awards show for their movie, he’d been so excited, so delightfully sober, he couldn’t help himself, she’d been so pretty in her white dress, he’d leaned down before he could stop himself. The first night they’d had sex, her moans, her soft cries of pleasure, nothing had ever measured up since.

It had been bliss, for about a month or so and then they’d really been discovered, and it had all been shot to hell.

All the fans, all the women throwing themselves at him, his eyes couldn’t help but wander despite Mikasa always being the most radiant in the room. He had her love, he’d had everything, but that insidious voice in the back of his head had wondered. Thought the grass was greener on the other side, wanting to explore fame at the same time they’d finally started their relationship.

You was at the crib reading stories that they sent you

They’d kept it casual at Eren’s insistence and Mikasa’s heartbreak, his rock had been willing to allow it for him, for the chance to finally explore their relationship. But he could see how much it hurt her, the tabloids were the worst part, every day a new cover, another apartment he’d leave, another hookup in the parking lot. And he could barely justify it to himself, why he did it, why he continued to do it? He had everything he could ever want in Mikasa, the girl he’d loved since forever, finally in the palm of his hand, willing to give herself wholly to him.

And yet fame had called him more, and the people he was hanging out with only encouraged it, the famous lifestyle, drugs, sex and rock and roll.

Everyone was doing it, so why shouldn’t he?

Most of that was bullshit but some of it I did do

The rumours spiralled out of control after a while, there was nothing he could do, it was over, they had too much on him.

He'd been telling himself lies that maybe she was with Jean on the side, that she had the same opportunities as him, she could go out and sleep around too.

As if Mikasa would ever even consider it.

He’d finally given into being exclusive, seeing the toll it was taking on Mikasa, after Armin smacked him upside the head and told him he was going to lose her if he didn’t get his shit together. Eren had finally realized how irreversibly he was fucking up his relationship, but by then, it had been too late.

When they finally started truly dating, monogamy and all, it had been far, far too late. The backlog of photos the paparazzi had was ridiculous, any opportunity they got to demonize him they took.

He and Mikasa been casual at the time of all the photos, sure, but anyone would buckle under the weight of constant articles about their significant other cheating. Eren became the villain in his own story, and Hollywood loved it, ‘Bad Boy Eren Yeager Ditches Mikasa Ackerman’. He still remembers the headline, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, she’d come home, dropped the offending magazine on the coffee table and hidden in her room for the rest of the night. He’d slept outside her door, and the next morning he’d been woken by her stepping over him to leave, bags packed.

It was sad, they’d never even officially dated to the public, they hadn’t gotten to that point. She’d wanted to reveal it at some awards show by taking him as her date, thanking him in her speech, her boyfriend, Eren Yeager. Overnight the paparazzi had singlehandedly broken them up for shit he hadn’t even done.

He had no one but himself to blame.

Hard for me to justify the women I was into

Looking back, he can’t say why he did it or what the purpose of all the models that looked eerily like her were for. Maybe he was trying to fill the empty space in his heart, maybe he felt neglected by her friendship with Jean and how obvious the man’s feeling for her were, but for one reason or another, he’d slept his way through about half of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and award shows were awkward these days. Meeting the eyes of all the talented women he’d hooked up with in such a professional setting was uncomfortable at best.

How many more did he not even remember, to high off drugs and alcohol and his own ego?

Especially when the whole entire world wished they had you

He’d seen it in how Jean looked at her the first time they’d walked the red carpet as promotion for their movie. The tall man was a b-list actor and he’d been invited to the pre-screening, and he’d watched Mikasa the entire night. His gaze wasn’t moved by Eren’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist or his chin resting on her head, nor the possessive hand on her thigh.

They hadn’t even been fooling around back then, but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want Jean’s eyes on her. She was also Mikasa Ackerman, and the whole world thought she was just as beautiful and amazing and perfect as he did.

But she was his. His best friend, love of his life, his everything

If only he’d treated her like it.

Probably made you want to hit the streets on everything

She doesn't take him to the awards show the night he comes begging, but she lets him inside her apartment. Lets him help her with her hair, something he's sorely missed. Something he's familiar with, been braiding her hair since they were kids.

He helps her put it up into a beautiful twist.

And when Jean knocks at her door to take her to the awards show he lets her go, kisses her cheek and tells her how much he loves her, how she's going to win it all and he'll be waiting her when she gets back.

And then she leaves, walks away with another man and Eren thinks he deserves it, it's his penance, how many times has she felt this same way, how many women has he been through?

Probably made you want to pour bleach on everything

He discovers not a single remnant of himself in her apartment, no pictures, no clothes she's borrowed. Even his old sweatshirt, her favourite one is gone. Hell, even their award for best-onscreen-kiss is gone.

He finds it all in a crumpled box under her bed and it's his own fault for snooping, their photo crumpled up and misshapen, riddled with water damage. Probably from her tears if he had to guess.

Probably made you want to kill me on everything

She comes home that night and Eren is surprised, he'd expected her to go to Jean's. Hadn't really believed she was going to come back. Had resigned himself to sleeping on the couch and waiting till tomorrow when she'd come home dishevelled and covered in hickeys and bruises, the kind good sex gives you. The kind he'd never really allowed himself to give her.

That's when she'd really broken and he'd been so fucking happy when she'd thrown her purse at him. No more of her her silent rage, her forced smiles. She'd kicked and screamed, cried in his arms only to hit him brutally with a pillow, chasing him to the end of the couch. Hands restraining his wrists, as she curses him out, tears running down her beautiful cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, she's a vengeful goddess and he deserves every second of her wrath.

She collapses on top of him in a heap of sobs and all he can do is hold her, hating himself just as much as he's sure she does.

Yeah, trust, I know that

He wakes the next morning with her weight in his arms, and he holds her like he never wants to let go.

He's lucky she's even here with him right now, that she didn't kick him out on the spot. That she even cares enough to still fight with him. He kisses her forehead softly, he knows.

Yeah I kinda hate this but whatever have angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine - 4

Nick had changed his tactics.  Now, instead of growling, howling and creepy laughter, he whispered.  It was like living in an ASMR app.  Somehow the lights were always dim and Nick was occasionally purring sweet nothings in my ear.

Someone came to inspect the wine.  They had questions I could not answer, I parroted back the approved line that Nick was the one selling and they would need to call or email him.

A week later, someone came and took away a box that Nick had packed and there was a hell of a lot of money in my bank account.

Which was just as well, I had my hours further reduced.

I lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling and listening to Nick whispering about how he was planning how to spend the wine money on the house.

I was dancing around asking if I could use some of it to cover my living expenses.   He wasn’t getting the hint.  I realized that was very nearly fair.  He had been very clear he was here for the house not for me.  It had been his wine.  Of course, I was the one who had the income from the wine sale to claim on my taxes.

“Nick?  Would you pay me to paint the place?”

That made him stop.

“And why would I do that?” he breathed against my cheek, making me shiver.

“I have no idea how long I will be without work and I’m afraid of running out of money,” I admitted.  “And of having strangers coming in, possibly bringing the infection with them.  We don’t know if people can get Covid twice.”

He didn’t reply.  In fact, there was no sign of him for the better part of a week.  That was a whole other level of creepy.  The house just felt empty.  There was no one to talk to and I hadn’t realized how often Nick would brush past me until that stopped.

I was soaking in the tub on Saturday night, wishing for a glass or wine or a beer.  There was still wine in the basement, but it was all the stuff Nick was saving for a special collector.  It had come as a surprise when the wine appraiser said that I had drunk a twelve hundred dollar bottle of wine out of my coffee cup the last time I had cracked one open.

No, the wine was wasted on me and deliveries from the liquor stores were booked for weeks if I wanted to schedule a delivery.

The lights flickered.

“Nick?” I asked.  There wasn’t any reply.  I pulled the plug with my toes and climbed out of the tub.  I had been avoiding the second floor of the house as much as I could but it was where the tub and shower were.  The lights flickered again.   There was a huge crash of thunder signaling the start of a summer storm, then the lights went out and the rain started.

“Shit.”  OK, I told myself, no need to panic.  It’s just a storm. I am just trapped in pitch blackness, in a storm, while naked and I have to not trip over my clothes and make it safely down steep and narrow steps by memory.  The thunder rolled again, a huge almost double crash that had to be really close.  My feet were wet and the tile was slippery.

“Nick?”  I tried.  “I could use a little help here.”  I bit back a scream as the bathroom door creaked open.  “Nick?”  I whispered.

I shrieked when something brushed my hand then tried to relax as I realized it was a towel.  I wrapped up and tried to feel ahead of me with my feet as I inched my way towards the door.

That familiar low voice growled in my ear, “it would be safer if I carried you down the stairs.”

I swallowed, then nodded.  I was scooped up and cradled.  There was no real sensation of movement until I was placed on my feet and he guided my hand to what turned out to be my bed.  Then he was gone.  The room was briefly lit by lightning and I swore for a moment I could see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  The thunder followed in an instant rattling the whole house.  I was glad I had gotten the roof fixed.  

Looking toward the front window, it looked like the street lights were out too.

I hate storms.  Objectively, I know that I don’t have to be afraid, but storms completely bypass the objective part of my brain and reach right into my fear response.  I sat on the bed, shaking with fear in a way that I hadn’t felt since Nick tried to lock me in the bedroom.

“Lift up your hand,” he whispered, near enough to make me jump.  “I can’t turn on your hedgehog night light but I can hand it to you.”

I tentatively held up my hand and he didn’t so much pass me the light as drop it into my hand.  I fumbled for a moment before finding the right place to press to make it light up.  It didn’t really help, but I slid back across the bed until I bumped into the wall and sat clutching it anyway.

���You are very afraid,” he observed calmly from somewhere to my left.

“I’m trapped in a haunted house, during a storm and I am only wearing a towel.  This is where the sound track plays the creepy music and the audience tenses up in anticipation of my imminent death.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so that when he did speak, I made an undignified squeak and jumped.

“You can’t see me bring you clothes.”

“What?”

“I can’t bring you your clothes unless you turn off the light.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t see me.”

I thought about arguing about whether it was that I physically couldn’t see him or if he just didn’t want to be seen.  Still, I had trusted him to carry me down the stairs.

I turned off the light and fought not to hyperventilate.  My robe was placed in my lap a moment later.  That raised more questions.  If I turned on the light to get dressed did that make it easier or harder for him to see me.  Was the dinky little nightlight really going to keep him away in the storm?

I turned it back on and looked wildly around the room as it cast strange shadows.

“I used to like that,” he murmured.  “The taste of fear.  Its smell.  All the little noise that humans make when they are afraid and trying to be quiet.”  He paused and there was a moment of uncomfortable lack of talking filled with the sound of howling wind and driving rain.  “I have never lived with one of you this long before.  Your fear is different.  You become afraid at times when I am unable to see the threat.”

“Like now,” I mumbled, as I scrambled into my clothes.

“No.  This fear I can understand.  Primal fear is very familiar to me.  It’s my bread and butter, so to speak.  You are afraid of when I am here and when I don’t answer and you are afraid of your job.”

I stopped for a moment and tried to understand that last one. “I am afraid for my job,” I countered.  “If I can’t work, I don’t earn money.  Without money, I can’t pay my bills.  If I fall behind in my payments, the bank repossesses the house and this is an even more shitty time to be homeless than usual.”

“Hmmm.”

I shivered and tried to pull the blankets around me.

“You can lay down,” he suggested.  “You would be warmer and more comfortable.”

“It would be easier if I could see you,” I muttered.

Nick snorted, “No it wouldn’t.”  The wall where his voice was coming from got darker, then a swirling shadow detached itself from the wall and drifted towards me.  It was vaguely humanoid but with soft wavering edges like ink dropped into water.  His eyes still shone in the darkness.  

“That’s a little scary,” I whispered “but I could get used to it.”  Then he grinned showing entirely too many teeth and I started to doubt my words.   The way he stalked towards me wasn’t entirely comforting either.  The bed dipped under his weight and I found myself pulled into his lap.  It was the first physical contact I had since he left.  It was weird to realize that he was the only other person to have touched me in months.  I tried to relax against him, he was warm and dry. 

I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.  It was weird.  “You could rub my back, if you want.  It was nice the last time you did that.”

Nick gave a low chuckle, then he began stroking me.  We sat like that in the storm until the wind died down and I drifted off to the sound of the rain.

[voiceless-terror]

Of Deadlines and Drama

For @jontim-week Day Three: Late

Rating: T

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Jon’s has trouble with his expenses. Tim helps out. 

“Late again? Really, Jon?”

“I know, I know!” Jon types as fast as his shaking hands will allow, but it’s no use. It’s Wednesday and its half past twelve, meaning Rosie will not be accepting his expense report under any circumstances. She’s a stickler for deadlines- at least, when it comes to Jon. They’ve never been on the best of terms, but ever since what Jon has deemed ‘The Incident,’ she’s been downright unpleasant. 

“I thought you set an alarm this time!” Tim says, coming over to lean against his desk. Tim has an alarm for everything - waking up, eating, exercising, going to bed. Jon doesn't know how he stands it. “I didn’t hear anything go off.”

“I might have told you I set one,” he winces, avoiding Tim’s eyes. “And then forgot to.”

“Jon, Jon, Jon…”

“Don’t triple Jon me!” he snaps, attempting to focus on the meaningless numbers in front of him. “I’m stressed enough as is. God, Elias is going to kill me…”

“Why are you trying to impress him?” Tim plops down in the chair beside him and props his feet up on Jon’s desk, raising an eyebrow. He looks infuriatingly handsome in his button up and sweater, a look that Jon has tried to emulate, only to achieve ‘overworked librarian.’ “The only person you should be trying to impress is me. Your boyfriend. The light of your life, the reason you get up in the morning-”

“The reason these are going to be even later than usual,” Jon snaps and knocks Tim’s feet off of the desk with a sharp elbow. Tim yelps and throws Jon a hurt look that he tries and fails to ignore. “I’m sorry. You did tell me to set an alarm. It’s just...these things get away from me.”

“I know.” Tim’s face softens as he scooches his chair over and leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “How can I help?”

“You can convince Rosie to accept these. You’re very persuasive.” He turns and gives Tim his best doe-eyed look, though he already knows the answer.

“I am persuasive, aren’t I?” Jon ignores his preening. “But that’s not going to work. You know as soon as she sees your name…”

Jon sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Yes, I know.”

“What did you do to her, Jon? Run over her dog? I know they scare you, but still...”

“They don’t scare me,” Jon lies, pointedly looking away. “I just...would rather not have them near my person. And you know I can’t drive.”

“What then?” Jon says nothing, focusing instead on chipping away at a small scratch in the wood of his desk. The whole thing’s rather embarrassing, and he’s gone this long without telling anyone. Tim moves his chair even closer, nudging it against Jon’s and squishing him into his desk. He’s effectively trapped.

“C’mon. Pleeease?”

Jon sighs at the wheedling tone. “I...may have snapped at her.” 

“You do that with everyone, though. Unless you said something especially heinous...” Another nudge to his chair. 

“And then... stumbled.”

“...okay?”

Jon closes his eyes. “And spilled my tea all over Elias’s mail.”

Tim guffaws, as expected, and Jon can feel his face warm. It certainly wasn’t his proudest moment, he can still hear Rosie’s screeching and his own stammered apologies. “That’ll do it! God, I wish I’d seen that.”

“It was incredibly embarrassing, and I’m glad you didn’t. Elias wasn’t in, thank god.”

“You could’ve gotten it all over one of those posh suits he wears.” Jon shudders at the thought. Elias is fastidious about his appearance, he would’ve been fired on the spot. Starting to feel claustrophobic, Jon pushes back against Tim’s chair to give himself breathing room and tries to refocus. He’s dawdled long enough.

Tim hums. “Hmm, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He tucks his head over Jon’s shoulder, probably eying the obvious errors in his report. Jon’s never been good with numbers. 

“Rosie doesn’t accept expenses after twelve, that’s true. But…” Tim trails off, definitely relishing in the small twitch in Jon’s eye when he does it. He enjoys riling him up, and he’s very good at it. Jon contains the urge to elbow him in the stomach.

“But what?” He’s starting to sound like a broken record. 

“But she doesn’t actually give them to Elias until three or four.” Tim smirks at his affronted gasp. Jon’s never been that late, but Rosie’s always going on about ‘deadlines being very important to Mr. Bouchard’ and ‘I’m sorry I just can’t accept these so late, I’ve already given him the pile.’ Jon’s wallet has paid the price for this on more than one occasion- he counts on those reimbursements, and it often leaves him short on cash for the rest of the week. Tim will pick up the check on those days, waving off Jon’s protests and trying to assuage his guilt. Before he can start raging about the newly-discovered arbitrary deadline, Tim cuts in.

“But if I distract her, you can slip them in her little pile and she’ll be none the wiser!” Tim gives him a cheeky grin. It’s...not a bad plan, but Jon’s hesitant at the thought of pulling one over on his boss’s secretary.

“Or I could just wait until she goes to the bathroom and do it then.” Tim’s face falls at the suggestion.

“Or I could distract her.” 

Ah. So that’s what this is about. They haven’t been on an investigation in weeks, and he always gets restless when they’re cooped up in the institute. And a bored Tim is a dangerous Tim.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! This way we can control the scenario, make sure you have enough time to get in and out.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “And what if she sees through your antics?”

Tim gives a dramatic gasp, rearing back in his seat and just barely missing a passing librarian. “Are you doubting my acting skills? I’ll have you know you aren’t the only theater kid in this place. And I didn’t want to bring it up, but...you owe me.”

Jon’s heart drops. Of course. Jon can’t coast along on his boyfriend’s paychecks, that’s asking too much. It’s his fault he’s in this predicament, and honestly, he should be thanking Tim for even offering.

“For bailing on that stakeout.” 

Jon pauses, and promptly dismisses his guilt. “I was sick! From a cold you gave me, might I add-”

“Technicalities.” Tim waves a dismissive hand. “C’mon. Do me a favor. Let your boyfriend save the day. Please?” He does his best impression of a kicked puppy, and Jon’s almost afraid he’ll go down on his knees to complete the look.

“Fine,” he sighs, ignoring the answering cheer. “If you must. But how are you going to-”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Tim winks, jumping up from his seat and throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Leave it to me. Finish those up, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He’s already halfway through the door before Jon can say thank you, and only pauses to call back “Have Sasha check for typos! Love you!”

Jon scowls at the snickers that follow this statement, and turns back to his screen. The numbers blurred together, and he’s pretty sure he’s subtracted when he should’ve added. It’s a wonder he ever gets these done at all. 

“Sasha? Can you look at this for me?”

_________

Tim promptly comes back with coffee (which Jon knows he hates) and cronuts, dropping one off at Jon’s desk. “She won’t be able to resist,” he promises with a peck to Jon’s cheek. “When you see us in the hallway, that’s your cue!”

In spite of himself, he starts to feel a little excited. Tim’s exuberance is contagious, and while not as thrilling as an investigation, Jon’s not above a bit of petty revenge. Not even revenge, really, more justice for the pain and suffering of his bank account. And not ten minutes later, Tim and Rosie are chatting amicably as they walk past the library, cronuts in hand. He feels the slightest bit of envy at how easily Tim can make friends, but tamps it down as he tiptoes up the stairs and over to Rosie’s desk. Elias’s door is thankfully closed.

And her desk is...empty. Immaculate. Nothing but a tiny notepad and her usual knickknacks, not a paper in sight. Fuck. Had she already given them to Elias? Is Jon too late? Did Tim waste money on coffee and cronuts for nothing? Calm down, he tells himself, willing his heart to slow. Just...have a look around. 

He tries not to feel too guilty as he rummages through her mail trays and under her place mat. There’s nothing too personal, though he averts his eyes at a list entitled New Year, New Intentions.  It’s when he finally turns to the drawers that he sees it- the corner of a file folder, sticking out of the bottom drawer. Please be it, please be it. He tugs it out, wincing at the small tear it causes and aha! He’s found it. A pile of neatly clipped expense reports is nestled inside, and all he needs to do is stick his in the middle where she can’t see and he’ll be fine-

“Jon?”

The voice startles him so badly he lets out a little yelp, the folder flying from his hands and papers littering the floor around him. He puts a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart and turns around to find Elias, who’s just caught him snooping through his secretary’s desk like a little thief. Jon didn’t even hear the door open. Oh god. I’m fucked. I’m fired.

“I-um, h-hello! Elias.” He gives an awkward little wave and immediately curses himself for doing it. It’s like he’s suddenly forgotten what normal people do with their hands. “I was just...looking for a pen. T-To write Rosie. A note.” 

“A note.” Elias raises one eyebrow, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe a word coming out of Jon’s mouth. To be fair, Jon wouldn’t either. When put on the spot, Jon can’t lie to save his life. “And this file…?” He bends down to pick up the folder clearly marked ‘Expenses’ in bold, black print. Jon winces.

“It...fell out?”

“Oh, Jon.” Elias tuts, and Jon refrains from full body flinching. He has a particular hatred of being scolded, and especially by Elias, of all people. The man he’s desperate to impress, who holds his job in his hands. “There’s no need for the ruse. Deadlines aren’t exactly your strong suit, are they?”

“No,” he mumbles, the words barely audible as he struggles to meet Elias’s eyes. He loves having his flaws pointed out to him. Loves it. “I’m sorry.”

“However, you do fine work.” Jon blinks and there it is- a rare, indulgent smile. It’s incongruous with those strange, cold eyes, but it makes Jon feel better all the same. “You’re one of our best researchers. But if you want to move up in the world, timeliness is of the utmost importance, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” Jon stammers, nodding his head up and down like a puppet. Move up in the world? Jon’s never considered himself ‘promotion material,’ but the thought that Elias thinks it possible fills him with excitement. You do fine work, he said. Fine work! “I’ll do my best.”

“Of course.” Elias offers the folder to Jon’s trembling hands, and gives him a conspiratorial smile. “This, however, can be our little secret, hm? I believe I saw Rosie and Mr. Stoker in the break room, but I think they’ll be back any minute. Best to tidy up before she notices.”

Jon can’t help the beam that spreads across his face. “T-Thank you, Elias. Really. It won’t happen again-”

“I know it won’t.” Elias gives him a brisk nod, suddenly all business, and turns back to his office, shutting the door briskly behind him without another word. Jon takes that as his cue to scurry across the floor, grabbing up the papers as frantically as possible while taking care not to crumple them further. It takes him a few moments, but he manages to get them in order and tucks his own into the pile. He places it carefully in the drawer he found it in, corner sticking out just as before. No Rosie in sight. Thank god.

With that, he bolted. Best not to be spotted anywhere near the scene of the crime. 

______

“Did it work?” Tim rushes into the library, talking entirely too loudly and plopping down on Jon’s desk, sending pens flying. Jon chooses to ignore this. “I brought Rosie her favorites, gave up my choicest gossip to get her out of that seat. Told her if Elias overheard he’d go mental.” Tim pauses to consider this. “Actually, that might’ve been true. It involves a copier and a certain someone-”

“It worked,” Jon quickly cuts him off. He doesn’t need any more info on whatever...that was. “Thank you. But Elias caught me.” Tim looks at him incredulously, as if surprised he survived the encounter. “And he was...okay with it? I mean, he told me it couldn't happen again, but he said ’it’s our little secret.”

Tim blanches at the words. “What?”

“He also said I did fine work,” Jon admits shyly. “I didn’t know he paid attention to me, but-”

“Hang on, ‘our little secret’? Fine work!?” Tim shrieks and Jon hurriedly shushes him, looking anxiously around the library. No one pays attention, used to their antics by now. “What’s that supposed to be, a euphemism?”

“A euphemism? What on earth could that be a euphemism for?”

“I don’t know!” Tim waves a hand around dramatically, and he actually looks a bit put out. Is he...jealous? Jon can’t help the small smirk and Tim notices it right away. “Don’t give me that! I don’t like the way he looks at you. Sasha’s noticed too. It’s downright creepy.”

“The grey is a bit disconcerting, I’ll give you that.”

“It doesn’t match his face! Weird, right?”

“Anyway,” Jon says, eager to cut off yet another tangent. “Your plan worked.”

“Not really.” Tim pouts, kicking his feet out like a toddler and turning away with his arms crossed. Only Tim can manage to make the petulant look work on a twenty-eight year old man.

“Yes, really!” Tim doesn’t turn around and Jon internally rolls his eyes, albeit fondly. “Look, I’ll get my check next Friday with everyone else. And then I’ll take you out to dinner. How does that sound?”

That did it. Tim tilts his head towards him, gives him a playful smile. “Gonna romance me, Sims? Pull out all the stops?”

Jon returns it. “All the second-rate sushi you want.”

“You’re a prince among men.” Tim hops off his desk and gives his forehead a kiss. Jon’s partial to those kisses and he can feel himself melting at the touch, even as his smile turns wicked.

“I could ask Elias if he’s free as well-” 

He doesn’t manage to dodge the pen that flies his way, but he doesn’t mind. Jealousy’s not a bad look on Tim.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103509

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 5

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,569

Warnings: none

A/N: Let me just thank you for your support, it’s so heartwarming and I love you so much. I’m sorry this chapter is so long, I have no idea how that happened. I hope you enjoy this :’)

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

After you agreed to move in with Bucky and become a full time artist, everything started to move incredibly fast. The dinner went well, you worked out the details of your contract with Sam and Nat who didn’t seem surprised that this was happening.

You left your job almost overnight, only giving them two weeks’ notice. They easily found a new breakfast attendant and you even trained your replacement. You emptied your locker, returned your name tag and your master key, and went on your merry way.

Now you were on your way to Bucky’s apartment, a suitcase full of clothes between your legs and another full of administrative papers, beauty products and whatnot between Natasha’s legs. She had insisted on coming with you to help you get settled. You didn’t own furniture or anything that required her help so you figured she just wanted to make sure Bucky was treating you right.

He had already transferred your monthly allowance to your bank account, which prompted your bank to call you. They wanted to know where the 5 thousand dollars came from and you told them it was a gift. “If your friend’s looking for new friends give them my number, yeah?” the man on the phone told you.

The rocking motion of the train had a soothing effect on you, almost lulling you to sleep. You let your head fall against the window and played one of your favourite game –people watching.

There was a man reading a newspaper, standing with his feet apart as if the cart was one giant skateboard. A woman was putting on makeup, another was playing a game on her phone. The woman sitting next to you was wrestling with her toddler who wanted to snatch your scarf. It was a quiet day.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Natasha asked, her face as cold as stone.

“’Bout what?” you replied in a sleepy voice.

“About your crush on James.”

“I don’t have a crush on Bucky.”

As soon as the words passed your lips, a tiny, sticky hand landed on your jaw, making a wet slapping sound. You blinked hard, your eyes trained on Natasha who was now openly smiling at the toddler next to you.

“See? Even the baby knows you’re a liar,” she said, singing the last word.

You turned your head to look at the baby and saw him put his fist in his mouth, his eyes bright and wide. With a happy squeal he launched himself at you again, smacking you in the face. The mother apologized and held her child against her chest, softly admonishing him to stop throwing himself at strangers. You felt that. He spent the rest of the ride looking at you.

“So, really, you’re going to move in with a man you have a massive crush on, and we’re not even going to talk about it,” she pressed on.

You huffed, wiping baby goo from your cheek with your sleeve. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“And you’re the bone.”

You got off the train and walked to Bucky’s apartment, your suitcase rolling behind you. Natasha was silent next to you, something that almost never happened. You counted your steps in your head, waiting for her to speak.

“You didn’t have to move out of my apartment.”

22 steps. That’s how long Natasha managed to stay quiet for. “Of course, I had to. I’m not going to do Brooklyn-Chelsea every day.”

When Bucky had offered his guest bedroom, your first reaction had been to politely refuse. Bucky seemed like a nice guy, but what if he had a glass cage in his basement? What if he trapped you there and commissioned paintings to you? Psycho killer, qu'est ce que c'est.

Then he opened up about his past, his insecurities, and it made you long to hold him. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, the kind that only come from an unprotected heart. You realized there was more chance of you hurting him than the opposite.

“You’re the one who organized this whole thing,” you reminded Natasha.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you had a crush on him. And if someone tells Okoye this was my idea, she’ll kill me.”

You turned to her with a not-sorry smile. “Yup.”

Your big sister was like most big sisters: extremely protective. When your mother had to work late, she was in charge and she took her role very seriously. You were nine when she finally got her driver’s licence, and that day she graduated from sister to mother. Eat your vegetables. Did you do your homework? I know you didn’t brush your teeth.

Okoye was loyal, protective, intimidating, and never afraid to speak her mind. When she decided to join the Dora Milaje, you thought the job was perfect for her –the king’s bodyguard, now that’s something you’d like to put on your resume.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Natasha asked as you got inside the elevator.

“Why are you so worried?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed her back against the wall and shrugged. “It’s always been you and me. Since first grade.”

You returned her sad smile with one of your own. “Heckle and Jeckle.”

She barked out a laugh at the memory. It was the nickname her father had for the two of you. It used to be a popular animated cartoon in the 50s. It was the story of two talking magpies who were always getting into some kind of trouble.

You stepped out of the elevator, still arguing about which one of you got to be Jeckle, the less problematic of the two, when you noticed that Bucky was patiently waiting for you by the front door. He didn’t say anything but there was an amused smile on his face.

He let you put your suitcases in the guest room near the kitchen and told you that he had to run a few errands, giving you a little privacy. Natasha hung up your clothes in the wardrobe while you unpacked your other stuff and put them away in the drawers of your dresser.

It didn’t take you long to unpack. When you were done, you threw yourself onto the bed, watching Natasha. You were excited to sleep in a real bed, you couldn’t stop running your hands up and down the comforter.

“Jeckle,” Natasha said, looking at the mostly empty wardrobe. “You need new clothes.”

“Ugh, yes,” you groaned from the bed.

When you were a teenager, you used to spend every weekend at the mall with your sisters and Natasha. Your wardrobe wasn’t big enough to fit all your clothes and your mother often asked you to get rid of the things you didn’t wear anymore. You never did.

Then life happened, and you didn’t have the energy or money to go shopping anymore.

You went to the kitchen to grab something to drink. Bucky’s fridge was even bigger than the one you had at work, and it was full of food in neatly labelled rows of Tupperware containers. The one in front of you was labelled ‘baby carrots’.

“Neat freak alert,” Natasha commented, peering over your shoulder into the refrigerator.

“Stop it.”

You took a bottle of water and sat at the kitchen island while Natasha continued investigating his kitchen. Bucky had several gadgets that few people had in their kitchen like a cutting board with suction cups on the bottom and nails on top to hold the food in place while slicing.

It was obvious that he liked to cook, and for some reason it made you smile. You pictured him cooking for one and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. It was a sad mental image and you shook your head to get rid of it.

The front door opened and you lifted your head to see what Natasha was doing. She was holding Bucky’s meal plan, perusing it intensely. Bucky entered the room and greeted you with a smile before he made his way over to the fridge.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

Natasha waved the meal plan in your direction mouthing ‘it’s laminated’ while Bucky retrieved a bottle of water for himself. You gestured wildly at her to put it back down.

“No, I’m good,” you replied with a slightly crazed smile. He looked between you and Natasha with a frown. “Natasha was about to leave.”

“Was I?” she replied, tilting her head.

“Yeah, you have stuff to do, remember?” You gave her a pointed stare.

“No.”

You widened your eyes at her and moved your head in the direction of the hallway that led to the front door. You tried to be discreet but you knew you weren’t fooling anyone. She watched you, unfazed.

Luckily, Bucky came to your rescue.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Natasha. Do you want me to call you a cab?” His tone left no room for discussion. You hid your grin behind your glass.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied without looking at him.

You walked Natasha back to the front door and opened it. She glared at something over your shoulder and you turned to see if Bucky was there. He wasn’t.

“Wait, I forgot to tell him that if he hurts you I’ll kill him.”

You grabbed her by the shoulders when she tried to move past you. “I think he got the message. Thanks for coming with me. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You’d better,” she warned with a slow nod.

When you returned to the kitchen, it really dawned on you that you were alone with Bucky. He glanced up at you while he was going through his mail. You took your seat and nervously looked around the room. It was too quiet, you didn’t like it.

“I like your friend,” he said, grinning. “She seems very protective of you.”

“She is,” you sighed.

An uncomfortable and strangely melancholic silence hung between you. You were both afraid to say or do the wrong thing. You felt like you didn’t belong there; like a patch sewed on a worn out pair of jeans, mending holes.

“You ok?”

You looked up at him. “Yeah, I just feel a little awkward. I’m... not sure what you want me to do now.”

“Nothing,” he said, rounding the kitchen island to sit on the stool next to you. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern. “This is your home. You can do whatever you want.”

“It doesn’t really feel like my home.” You shrugged one shoulder. “It kinda feels like I just unloaded my crap in your guest room, which is exactly what happened.”

He observed you a moment. “Well, make it your home. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here.”

“So,” you glanced at him sideways. “If I bought a few things to make this place more... homey, you wouldn’t be mad?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up as his smile grew. “I’m begging you to make this place more homey. It’s really boring, isn’t it?” he said, looking around the kitchen with a comical frown.

You chuckled. “No, it’s not. Well, maybe a little.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” he said with a laugh.

Bucky watched you with his cheek in the palm of his hand. Your eyes were moving around the room, making mental notes of the things you wanted to add. He smiled, the sparkle was back in your eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, straightening up.

He left the room for a second and came back with his hand hidden behind his back. You looked at him with a playfully suspicious frown as he approached you. You followed his movements closely, your frown deepening when he placed a little white box on the kitchen counter.

“Open it.”

You removed the lid and pulled out a set of keys, undoubtedly the keys to his apartment. The keychain was gleaming the light; a small silver angel that fit snugly in the palm of your hand.

You barely managed to croak out a thank you before you threw yourself at him, hugging him tight. His body tensed instantly and you were about to apologize when you felt his arm wrap around you.

You felt pressure build in your throat, a tingling sensation in your nose, and tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck. The last thing you wanted was for him to catch you crying over a set of keys. Though deep down it wasn’t about the keys, it was the accumulation of pent-up emotions and the realization that you were now completely free to follow your dreams.

You released him but he was still hanging on to you. Tight. His heart was beating fast against your chest. He was a lonely man craving human interaction. So you closed your eyes and rubbed your hands up and down his back –gently and out of sync. After a few long minutes, he untangled himself from you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon, there’s something else I want to show you.”

“Another gift?” You sighed his name when you noted the guilty expression on his face. “It’s too much.”

“It’s a practical gift, hardly a gift at all.”

He took you upstairs to the room that was now your studio. The room hadn’t changed since your last visit, except for the easel placed in the centre. You entered slowly as if you were approaching a frightened mythological creature. You ran your fingers along the wood, your chest tight with the heft of your emotions.

You hadn’t seen one in a while, and now it was right in front of you, beckoning. “Show me how you feel,” the easel said. “Show the world what you’re made of.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, your voice soft.

“I thought it was the perfect housewarming gift for you.”

You turned to him and smiled. “It is. I already bought everything I need. Paint, knives, brushes, canvases... an easel. Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to buy me one. It’s good to have more than one though. Online shops are a bit impersonal.” You walked toward the door where he was waiting. “I miss the smell of art supply stores. It’s so intoxicating, it really gets the creative juices flowing.”

“What does it smell like?”

You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate. “It’s a mix of paint and paper, a woody pencil-sharpening smell mixed with chemicals and ash.”

“Sounds relaxing.”

“It’s heaven,” you said with a dreamy sigh.

Bucky gave you a fond smile and glanced at the keychain still in your hand. “So that’s where angels come from, uh?”

You laughed and pushed his good shoulder playfully. Ever since that fateful day when Bucky asked you out for coffee and you mistook his business date for a romantic date, you learned not to take the things he said too seriously. Bucky was a nice guy, a bit of a flirt sometimes, but his intentions were clear. He wanted a companion, not a girlfriend.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, you went to your room and rearranged a few things while Bucky stayed in his office. At dinnertime you set the table while he finished cooking. You sat in front of a bowl of homemade soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

After you had practically licked your bowl clean, Bucky leaned back in his chair and watched you with a grin. You felt a little embarrassed. You wiped your mouth with your napkin, trying to look a bit more well-mannered.

“It was really good,” you said.

“Thank you. I gotta say, I was tired of cooking for one. It’s not fun.” He put your empty bowl in his and carried them to the sink. You gathered up plates and utensils and followed him. “You’ll have to tell me what you don’t like.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat broccoli ice cream, I’m good.”

He laughed, remembering your conversation from a couple of week ago. “I don’t think I can stomach it either.” He handed you two small plates and two forks. “I bought a cake. I thought we could celebrate our first day together. Is it creepy? I can’t tell.”

“No, that’s a great idea!” you laughed. “You’re making me feel like it’s my birthday.”

You carried everything to the table while he opened the fridge and retrieved a large pink cardboard box. He balanced the box in his hand, a sharp knife sitting on top. “I’m surprised you didn’t bake it yourself,” you said, picking up the knife.

“Dessert isn’t my forte.” He opened the cardboard box, revealing a three-layer red velvet cake. “I’m too much of a perfectionist. I can make pretty decent pies but sponge cakes are hard to control when you only have one hand.”

“We can bake cakes together if you want. I’m clumsy as hell but I’m willing to learn.”

“That’d be nice,” he replied with a smile.

It was, without a doubt, the best cake you’d ever had in your life. It was incredibly light. The chocolate and vanilla burst in your mouth, mixing perfectly with the bitterness of the buttermilk.

“Red velvet is my favorite,” Bucky said, licking his fork. “Blueberry cheesecakes are good too. And Blackout cakes, umm, so good. Except fruitcakes,” he said, his mouth twisted into a downturned grimace. “Fruitcakes are the devil.”

“You’ve got quite the sweet tooth.”

“You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

After a minute of silence, you said, “The last time I ate red velvet cake, my sister had put too much white vinegar. It was disgusting but we didn’t want to hurt her feelings so we ate all of it.”

Bucky chuckled. “How many siblings do you have?”

It was a standard get-to-know-you question and you knew he would ask it at some point. Yet, it made your guts twist in pain. It was a question you always dreaded because you didn’t have a clear answer to it. Should you leave Pietro out? He was gone but he was still your brother.

“I, uh,” you mumbled, staring down at your half-eaten slice of cake. “I’m not sure what the answer is.” He frowned at you, confused. “Do you... do you count the ones you lost?”

Understanding flashed in his eyes and he gave you a patient smile. “Yes, I do.”

You met his eyes and tried to smile, though you were pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. “I have four siblings then.” You took a forkful of cake and chewed slowly, allowing yourself a few seconds to clear your thoughts. Without success.

“I was adopted,” you revealed. His eyebrows rose in surprise but he let you continue. “We were all adopted. My mom lost her husband when she was young. They wanted to have a big family but they were too busy working. They both had very demanding jobs.”

“What did they do?”

“He was in the military, and she was the co-founder of an extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Bucky chuckled.

“You should hear their name.” He gave you a ‘go ahead’ look. “It’s the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

You watched Bucky process the name, waiting for the moment realization would dawn on him. Then his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? Your mom’s the co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.” He stared at you, his mouth wide open. “Your mom’s Peggy Carter!? Jesus Christ,” he sighed, shaking himself out of his stupor. “When we were kids, me, Stevie and a couple of other kids pretended to be secret agents working for S.H.I.E.L.D. We even had a name: the Howling Commandos.”

You screwed your eyes shut, a smile breaking across your face. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, embarrassment colouring his face. “I dunno why I’m telling you this. Please, don’t tell your mom.”

Your laughter died down, and you continued smiling at him. He was cute when he was flustered. You smothered that thought as soon as it materialized.

“I didn’t know she had adopted five kids.”

“Yeah, I guess her job as the co-founder of one the most important secret agency gave her the freedom to adopt without having to wait.”

“Do you get along with your siblings?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, kinda. Scott, my older brother, is a few years younger than you. He’s really smart but he’s a big goof. He left for San Francisco when I was a kid. My sister, Okoye, left when I was 19. She’s King T’Chaka’s bodyguard.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” you chucked. “The twins are only three years older than me. We were really close, but then Pietro,” you took a small pause, “he, um, he died and, Wanda, she couldn’t stay anymore. It was too much, y’know. She went to Sokovia -where they were born- and she never came home. Last I heard, she was backpacking through Europe.”

“You still have your mom though,” Bucky said with a warm smile.

“She’s in London,” you said, smiling even though you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep yourself from crying. “She’s in a nursing home. She was diagnosed with a form of dementia, something similar to Alzheimer. She has no idea who I am.”

You tried to speak in a normal, detached tone but your voice wavered and you fought not to cry. Bucky reached for your hand, your nails had left half-moon indentations in your palm. Wordlessly, he smoothed his thumb over your palm, inspecting the damage.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice soft.

Until now it had never occurred to you that you had never said those things out loud before. Natasha knew because she’d been with you through all of it. She was your best friend, the only person who hadn’t abandoned you yet.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d met someone new, someone you felt comfortable enough to talk to about your family.

You didn’t want to end the day on a sad note, so you pulled yourself together. You straightened up, wiped your eyes and sniffed back the tingling feeling in your nose. Bucky seemed to notice that you wanted to change the subject because he let go of your hand and picked up his fork again.

“So,” you said after clearing your throat. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“It’s a serious question and it’s important that you tell me the truth.”

Bucky flinched, his throat working as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I promise.”

You took a deep breath and rotated your head left and right, working the kinks out of your neck and back. Then you levelled him with a direct stare.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Bucky recoiled as if he had misheard you. He looked momentarily startled by your question before he burst into laughter. When your face remained stoic, he realized you weren’t joking. “Oh? Umm, I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He seemed lost in thought for a second. “I like blue.”

“Which blue? Navy? Tiffany blue? Sapphire? Baby blue? Teal? Duck-egg? Turquoise?” you enumerated them quickly.

“Just...blue?” he replied carefully. You took a deep breath and released it slowly, shaking your head. “No, wait,” he added in a hurry. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration while he was trying to come up with a better answer. “The color of the sky when a storm is brewing. That’s my favorite color.”

You smirked. “Poetic.”

“Well, I’m a writer,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh no, you can’t ask me that. I’m a painter, it’s like asking a parent who their favourite child is.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded, waving his hand to dismiss the question. “Let me ask you an equally important question.”

“Oh, boy,” you laughed.

The warmth of his laughter was reassuring. It made you feel at ease, calm. What you hadn’t realized yet was that you weren’t trying to change your personality to please him. You were yourself, flaws and all.

“When you read a book, how do you keep track of your reading?” he asked. “Do you use a bookmark? Receipts? Candy wrappers? Book ribbon? Do you fold the corner of the page? Do you leave the book face down or memorize the page number? I need to know.”

You didn’t have to think about it. “Dog ears.”

“Oh, God, you’re a folder.” He stared up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “I think I got you all wrong. You’re not an angel, you’re a little demon.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line to hide a smile.

He quickly gathered up the dirty plates and carried them to the sink while you remained seated at the table, laughing. You turned in your chair and saw him fill the sink with hot water and suds. What kind of millionaire doesn’t own a dishwasher?

“I bet you also write in ‘em,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a hint of a smirk.

“No, I would never,” you said, joining him at the sink. “I like books that look old though. Cracked spines, folded corners, tea or coffee stains.”

“Please, stop I’m going to hyperventilate,” he joked.

You chuckled. “Do you a have a towel?” you asked, giving him a little tap with your hip so he would scoot sideways.

He let go of the knife he was washing and pulled out a towel from the cabinet under the sink. You were a bit in awe of the way he cleaned everything with only one hand but you didn’t want to sound condescending so you kept it to yourself.

“What’s the point of having books if they look like nobody’s ever opened them?” you said. “I want to know my books had a good life before I bought them. I want to know they were loved. Sometimes when you love something, you mess it up a little.” He rinsed a plate and handed it to you. “I bet you have one of those sentence pointer bookmarks.”

He stayed quiet for a moment and you cursed yourself, thinking you might have hurt his feelings with your little teasing. His meal plan was fucking laminated, of course he had a sentence pointer bookmark. When he spoke, you felt like you could breathe again.

“I do have a bookmark. My niece made it for me at school. It’s pink and it has a braided pink and purple ribbon. No sentence pointer.”

His rueful smile and slightly red cheeks made your chest warm. You had to remind yourself that Bucky wasn’t flirting with you. He was just being nice.

“I’m jealous,” you said. “I wish I had one.”

“That can be arranged,” he nodded, his bottom lip jutting out in a pensive pout.

You wondered what this would look like if someone were to enter the room right now. They’d see you and Bucky, standing side by side at the sink as though you were the protagonists of a Norman Rockwell painting called ‘Domestic Bliss’. You wanted more days like this one.

“Yeah?” you breathed out. “You sure?”

“Anything for you, angel.”

Part 6