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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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Cars bricked by bankrupt EV company will stay bricked

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

There are few phrases in the modern lexicon more accursed than "software-based car," and yet, this is how the failed EV maker Fisker billed its products, which retailed for $40-70k in the few short years before the company collapsed, shut down its servers, and degraded all those "software-based cars":

https://insideevs.com/news/723669/fisker-inc-bankruptcy-chapter-11-official/

Fisker billed itself as a "capital light" manufacturer, meaning that it didn't particularly make anything – rather, it "designed" cars that other companies built, allowing Fisker to focus on "experience," which is where the "software-based car" comes in. Virtually every subsystem in a Fisker car needs (or rather, needed) to periodically connect with its servers, either for regular operations or diagnostics and repair, creating frequent problems with brakes, airbags, shifting, battery management, locking and unlocking the doors:

https://www.businessinsider.com/fisker-owners-worry-about-vehicles-working-bankruptcy-2024-4

Since Fisker's bankruptcy, people with even minor problems with their Fisker EVs have found themselves owning expensive, inert lumps of conflict minerals and auto-loan debt; as one Fisker owner described it, "It's literally a lawn ornament right now":

https://www.businessinsider.com/fisker-owners-describe-chaos-to-keep-cars-running-after-bankruptcy-2024-7

This is, in many ways, typical Internet-of-Shit nonsense, but it's compounded by Fisker's capital light, all-outsource model, which led to extremely unreliable vehicles that have been plagued by recalls. The bankrupt company has proposed that vehicle owners should have to pay cash for these recalls, in order to reserve the company's capital for its creditors – a plan that is clearly illegal:

https://www.veritaglobal.net/fisker/document/2411390241007000000000005

This isn't even the first time Fisker has done this! Ten years ago, founder Henrik Fisker started another EV company called Fisker Automotive, which went bankrupt in 2014, leaving the company's "Karma" (no, really) long-range EVs (which were unreliable and prone to bursting into flames) in limbo:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fisker_Karma

Which raises the question: why did investors reward Fisker's initial incompetence by piling in for a second attempt? I think the answer lies in the very factor that has made Fisker's failure so hard on its customers: the "software-based car." Investors love the sound of a "software-based car" because they understand that a gadget that is connected to the cloud is ripe for rent-extraction, because with software comes a bundle of "IP rights" that let the company control its customers, critics and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

A "software-based car" gets to mobilize the state to enforce its "IP," which allows it to force its customers to use authorized mechanics (who can, in turn, be price-gouged for licensing and diagnostic tools). "IP" can be used to shut down manufacturers of third party parts. "IP" allows manufacturers to revoke features that came with your car and charge you a monthly subscription fee for them. All sorts of features can be sold as downloadable content, and clawed back when title to the car changes hands, so that the new owners have to buy them again. "Software based cars" are easier to repo, making them perfect for the subprime auto-lending industry. And of course, "software-based cars" can gather much more surveillance data on drivers, which can be sold to sleazy, unregulated data-brokers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Unsurprisingly, there's a large number of Fisker cars that never sold, which the bankruptcy estate is seeking a buyer for. For a minute there, it looked like they'd found one: American Lease, which was looking to acquire the deadstock Fiskers for use as leased fleet cars. But now that deal seems dead, because no one can figure out how to restart Fisker's servers, and these vehicles are bricks without server access:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/10/08/fisker-bankruptcy-hits-major-speed-bump-as-fleet-sale-is-now-in-question/

It's hard to say why the company's servers are so intransigent, but there's a clue in the chaotic way that the company wound down its affairs. The company's final days sound like a scene from the last days of the German Democratic Republic, with apparats from the failing state charging about in chaos, without any plans for keeping things running:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/03/07/east-germany-stasi-surveillance-documents/

As it imploded, Fisker cycled through a string of Chief Financial officers, losing track of millions of dollars at a time:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/05/31/fisker-collapse-investigation-ev-ocean-suv-henrik-geeta/

When Fisker's landlord regained possession of its HQ, they found "complete disarray," including improperly stored drums of toxic waste:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/10/05/fiskers-hq-abandoned-in-complete-disarray-with-apparent-hazardous-waste-clay-models-left-behind/

And while Fisker's implosion is particularly messy, the fact that it landed in bankruptcy is entirely unexceptional. Most businesses fail (eventually) and most startups fail (quickly). Despite this, businesses – even those in heavily regulated sectors like automotive regulation – are allowed to design products and undertake operations that are not designed to outlast the (likely short-lived) company.

After the 2008 crisis and the collapse of financial institutions like Lehman Brothers, finance regulators acquired a renewed interest in succession planning. Lehman consisted of over 6,000 separate corporate entities, each one representing a bid to evade regulation and/or taxation. Unwinding that complex hairball took years, during which the entities that entrusted Lehman with their funds – pensions, charitable institutions, etc – were unable to access their money.

To avoid repeats of this catastrophe, regulators began to insist that banks produce "living wills" – plans for unwinding their affairs in the event of catastrophe. They had to undertake "stress tests" that simulated a wind-down as planned, both to make sure the plan worked and to estimate how long it would take to execute. Then banks were required to set aside sufficient capital to keep the lights on while the plan ran on.

This regulation has been indifferently enforced. Banks spent the intervening years insisting that they are capable of prudently self-regulating without all this interference, something they continue to insist upon even after the Silicon Valley Bank collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/15/mon-dieu-les-guillotines/#ceci-nes-pas-une-bailout

The fact that the rules haven't been enforced tells us nothing about whether the rules would work if they were enforced. A string of high-profile bankruptcies of companies who had no succession plans and whose collapse stands to materially harm large numbers of people tells us that something has to be done about this.

Take 23andme, the creepy genomics company that enticed millions of people into sending them their genetic material (even if you aren't a 23andme customer, they probably have most of your genome, thanks to relatives who sent in cheek-swabs). 23andme is now bankrupt, and its bankruptcy estate is shopping for a buyer who'd like to commercially exploit all that juicy genetic data, even if that is to the detriment of the people it came from. What's more, the bankruptcy estate is refusing to destroy samples from people who want to opt out of this future sale:

https://bourniquelaw.com/2024/10/09/data-23-and-me/

On a smaller scale, there's Juicebox, a company that makes EV chargers, who are exiting the North American market and shutting down their servers, killing the advanced functionality that customers paid extra for when they chose a Juicebox product:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/10/2/24260316/juicebox-ev-chargers-enel-x-way-closing-discontinued-app

I actually owned a Juicebox, which ultimately caught fire and melted down, either due to a manufacturing defect or to the criminal ineptitude of Treeium, the worst solar installers in Southern California (or both):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/27/here-comes-the-sun-king/#sign-here

Projects like Juice Rescue are trying to reverse-engineer the Juicebox server infrastructure and build an alternative:

https://juice-rescue.org/

This would be much simpler if Juicebox's manufacturer, Enel X Way, had been required to file a living will that explained how its customers would go on enjoying their property when and if the company discontinued support, exited the market, or went bankrupt.

That might be a big lift for every little tech startup (though it would be superior than trying to get justice after the company fails). But in regulated sectors like automotive manufacture or genomic analysis, a regulation that says, "Either design your products and services to fail safely, or escrow enough cash to keep the lights on for the duration of an orderly wind-down in the event that you shut down" would be perfectly reasonable. Companies could make "software based cars" but the more "software based" the car was, the more funds they'd have to escrow to transition their servers when they shut down (and the lest capital they'd have to build the car).

Such a rule should be in addition to more muscular rules simply banning the most abusive practices, like the Oregon state Right to Repair bill, which bans the "parts pairing" that makes repairing a Fisker car so onerous:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/3/27/24097042/right-to-repair-law-oregon-sb1596-parts-pairing-tina-kotek-signed

Or the Illinois state biometric privacy law, which strictly limits the use of the kind of genomic data that 23andme collected:

https://www.ilga.gov/legislation/ilcs/ilcs3.asp?ActID=3004

Failing to take action on these abusive practices is dangerous – and not just to the people who get burned by them. Every time a genomics research project turns into a privacy nightmare, that salts the earth for future medical research, making it much harder to conduct population-scale research, which can be carried out in privacy-preserving ways, and which pays huge scientific dividends that we all benefit from:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/01/the-palantir-will-see-you-now/#public-private-partnership

Just as Fisker's outrageous ripoff will make life harder for good cleantech companies:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

If people are convinced that new, climate-friendly tech is a cesspool of grift and extraction, it will punish those firms that are making routine, breathtaking, exciting (and extremely vital) breakthroughs:

https://www.euronews.com/green/2024/10/08/norways-national-football-stadium-has-the-worlds-largest-vertical-solar-roof-how-does-it-w

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/10/software-based-car/#based

#pluralistic #enshittification #evs #automotive #bricked #fisker #ocean #cleantech #iot #internet of shit #autoenshittification

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 2 months ago

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Over the Limit

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

summary: In a town divided between two rival street racing crews, you’re caught between your cousin’s crew, the Sinners and Jenna, a mysterious girl from the Vipers who’s more than just a pretty face. Both of you need something from each other, but as the stakes rise, you’re left wondering: what makes your heart race more— the thrill of the competition or the girl who’s impossible to ignore?

word count: 6.7k

A very special thank you to @ortegalvr for giving me the very much needed nudge to start moving my work to Tumblr. And to @cobaltperun for being so patient and thoroughly answering all my questions, essentially giving me (a Tumblr noob) a dummies guide to Tumblr. Appreciate you both!

————

Why is it that some of the best feel goods in life can just as easily kill you if you indulge in it too much?

Alcohol, drugs, illegal driving... love?

Fortunately for you, you only indulge in only one of those.

There's just something so satisfying about watching your car pick up speed; watching the little arm on the speed gauge reach it's full potential. If cars are able to reach those speeds then they should, it's a fact of the matter. And when you're surrounded by cars all your life and the only reason you have a livelihood is because of those three thousand pounds of steel, you're bound to make some fun out of it.

You push down on the accelerator with more pressure, reaching speeds of almost 180 km/hour when you see the flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror.

The feds.

"Took them longer than usual." you thought out loud.

Now there could be two reasons they're after you. The obvious, speeding. But then there's also the fact that you stole the beauty you're driving from the town's richest neighbourhood, Summer Valley.

Of course stealing it is not enough for you, so you made some tweaks here and there in the garage so this ride could be even more illegal than it already is, and now you're selling it to an off the grid buyer.

Escaping the police wasn't something new, it's become routinely. You'd be more concerned if the cops weren't on your tail during a delivery.

You make a sharp turn right into a short alleyway marking the start of this high speed chase.

Being the exceptional mechanic that you are, your work on this car has given it a larger than usual turn radius which allowed the turn to be much smoother, giving you a good head start.

"Why are these fuckers in the middle of road!" You yelled panickily, upon seeing the herd of people in front of you.

You don't know when people decided to ditch the sidewalks and walk in the middle of the road, but clearly, you missed the memo. You were forced to sound the horn a few times, and luckily the pedestrians were responsive and didn't cause you to lose your lead on the cop, but it may have alerted them—if you were lucky enough to lose them in the first place.

Once you finally got out of the alleyway, your phone started ringing, stealing your focus from the dark road in front of you to glance down at your phone for a millisecond.

Anton. Your cousin.

Anton Y/l/n. Your older cousin of three years. He was an impulsive firecracker that has the tendency to rope you into his shenanigans, not deliberately of course. Despite his flaws he'd do anything for family. You like to joke around and call him Dom Toretto, and those jokes have only gotten worse after he buzzed his head after an unfortunate grease spillage accident that was entirely his and your fault.

That five letter name is the most anxiety inducing noun known to man in your books and everytime you answer the older guy's call, you feel as if your gambling your mental health. He could either be calling to tell you about a huge car gig that he scored for you both or that he owes a million dollar debt.

You legit never know.

You groan and answer the call, putting it on speaker and tossing the phone to the passenger seat.

"What now?" you yell over the sounds of acceleration and police sirens.

"Come to Chester and Dan's lane." He says straight to the point, not questioning the noises he hears on your end of the phone. "After your delivery of course." At this point he's used to his little cousin getting chased down by the cops too.

"What's happening at Chester and Dan?" You ask looking at the side view mirror, squinting at the piercing blue and red flashes.

"Sinners are doing a couple rounds before the big race tomorrow. Join us, it'll be fun."

You sigh at your cousin's billionth attempt to get you acquainted with the Sinners. He's been trying ever since he first started as a general member of the club to now, the leader of the street race club.

"We'll see, I'm kind of in the middle of something," you shout over the sound of the tires screeching from a sharp turn you just made.

"Ugh! I'm not gullible like the other fucks in your life. Don't 'we'll see' me thinking it'll keep me satisfied and off your back for a while."

"I'm busy."

"Just step on the gas you pussy, going past two hundred won't kill you."

With a roll of your eyes, you think that you've entertained Anton's wishes enough and hung up the phone with the determination to lose the cops and deliver the 1969 Ford Mustang you're driving in one piece.

Twenty minutes later, a handful full of sharp turns later and momentarily stopping to let a group of duckling cross the street, you were finally at your destination.

"Car looks good to me," the off the grid buyer who introduced himself as John said with an approving nod after surveying the vintage black vehicle for quite some time.

You let out a breath. You've made your fair share of deliveries over the years, and just like Anton's calls, you never know the type of customer you're gonna get.

Some customers complain about the price of parts, or a scratch on the car that doesn't exist or they go back on their word and attempt to haggle the price to something ridiculous.

"Nice work kid," John says handing you the promised amount you both settled on a couple weeks prior. You didn't have to count the stash of cash to know that all of it was there.

"Finally," you sigh, smiling at the wad of cash in your hands and running your thumb along the bills, walking towards the direction of home.

Suddenly a car pulls up. "Give me the cash or give me your life. Your choice." Before you can register the words, you're met with the barrel of a pistol pointed at you through an unrolled passenger side window.

You knew you weren't a fighter nor were you confrontational. Even though you grew up in the tougher parts of the town, your brain is what got you out of your predicaments. If you were a fighter you wouldn't be spending your life stealing, fixing and selling cars.

Laughter interrupted you from handing over the cash. Confused, you focus on the face holding the glock, and all previous thoughts disappeared and was now replaced with relief and anger.

"What the fuck Anton!" you angrily say, hopping into the passenger seat of the car next to your laughing cousin.

You knew better than to question the fact that your cousin had a gun. When you're the leader of a street race club, you need protection. Especially when all the other club owners own a gun, and fights always break out.

"You should've seen your face," he slips out in his fit of laughter, beginning to drive off as his cousin settles in his car.

"I thought you were street smart, you know better than to walk around this time flaunting your cash."

"I can handle myself, but yeah I should've been more careful. I was just a little excited finally getting paid," You admit, recalling the rut you've recently been in and the struggles you and your mother have recently been facing to make ends meet.

Anton acknowledges the response, "You know you could always ask me for help?

"My mom wouldn't take it."

Anton let's out a loud sigh, "No offense dude, but I don't get your mom's deal. She acts as if I'm the reason our dads are dead."

You wince at the mention of your dead fathers. Sometimes you wonder how Anton could talk about this stuff so easily. "You just resemble Uncle so much, and to be fair you are following the same path as him."

Anton's father and yours, who were brothers, founded the Sinner's Race Club. Anton's dad had always been your father's right-hand man in races, often riding in the passenger seat. During a high-stakes race meant to settle a territory dispute, the brakes on your father's car failed, and both men were pronounced dead at the scene.

Since then, your mom understandably kept you away from cars, Anton, and anything related to the race club. She forbade you from getting a driver's license and doesn't even know you have one. Hiding it wasn't difficult, though, given that your family has more pressing expenses than a car.

"Alright, we're here," Your cousin announces, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I still think you should show up tomorrow. Sleep on it."

You step out of the car, once Anton puts the money you made from your sale in a spare backpack he had. So your mom wouldn't ask questions.

"How was your shift?" your mom asks from the couch as you walk through the door.

"Fine, just sore from lifting all those boxes," you lie smoothly.

"Hmm, get to bed early tonight."

As you head toward your room, her voice calls out again. "Oh, and Y/n," she says, making you turn back. "That better not have been Anton dropping you off."

You stay silent and head to bed, unsure of what tomorrow will bring.

————

"How the hell does your mom not catch on? She really thinks some warehouse gig's got you pullin' in forty grand at a time?"

You wipe the sweat of your brow, while you grab a car wrench. "She doesn't know I make that much, I help pay the rent and get food on our table. The rest I save."

"Smart. So, what's the big plan? Get outta Brimstone? Buy yourself a mansion in Summer Valley?" Mason sneers condescendingly.

This morning, you woke up to a text from Anton that convinced you to at least help prep the cars for tonight's big race, even if you don't plan on showing up. Now, you find yourself at the Brimstone Sinner's garage, the garage where you do your car modifications which sits at the edge of Sinner territory.

The place is buzzing with other club members scattered around, working on various cars. You, Anton, and—unfortunately—Mason, a friend of Anton's, who somehow wormed his way into the conversation, are huddled by the main cars, making sure they're in prime condition for the race.

"Ay! Stop distracting my best mechanic!" Anton shouts over the hood of the car to Mason.

Before you knew it you were rolling under the car via the creeper to work on the underside of the car. As you were finishing up you suddenly heard the garage go dead silent, but you didn't know why since your view was limited.

You hear Anton break the silence, "You got some fucking nerve walking into my garage asshat."

As you were lying on your back you could see about one foot from the ground up. You couldn't see who it was, but you could tell where they were from. The grey Dior dunks paired with the most unfashionable pants ever told you everything you needed to know.

Someone from Summer Valley is here.

Then came the laugh. That short, arrogant chuckle, the kind that practically exhaled wealth. Privilege. The very thing you despised.

"Just wanted to see you pussies before you lose all your dignity—oh and your garage. I'm already imagining what I'm gonna do with the place," the voice laughs again.

The conversation around you fades as your mind fixates on a single phrase. Lose the garage? Your hand curls into a tight fist, knuckles turning white. Did your dumbass cousin actually gamble the garage for tonight's race?

You try to focus your hearing, trying to see if anyone else is upset by the fact. But it's silent, they're unfazed, indifferent to the fact that Anton—the club's supposed leader—might have just wagered the club's most valuable asset. Property. You let out a sharp exhale. This is exactly what you couldn't stand about racers. They're all thrill-seeking junkies who only care about going fast. Does no one else here realize the gravity of losing this garage?

Anton snaps you back to reality. "Percy you ain't riding tonight if you're dead. Now get the fuck out before you catch a bullet."

Percy.

Leader of the Summer Valley Vipers. Just another privileged trust fund brat, bored one summer, who saw that the kids on the wrong side of the tracks had a race club and wanted in. So formed his own club. For the Vipers, racing was a hobby. For anyone from Brimstone? It was survival.

Once the obnoxious figure in those ridiculous pants left the garage, you rolled out from under the car, wiping grease from your hands. A quick glance around told you that everyone had already returned to their tasks, like the tense exchange with the Viper hadn't even happened.

Jaw clenched, you stomped over to Anton and gave him a firm nudge—just hard enough to make your frustration clear. "What the hell, Ant?"

Anton, mid-conversation with Madison—one of the club's members—turned to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"What? Seriously?" you snap. "What was Pissy going on about, losing the garage?"

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh before flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Relax, Y/n. It's just to raise the stakes, nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" you say, mirroring his words once again. "This is my fucking livelihood, I can't live without this garage Ant? Where else am I going to fix cars?!"

Anton calmy takes one last drag, puts out his cigarette, and gestures for you to follow him outside of the garage, away from the rest of the club members.

Once you were outside Anton wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I'm only gonna say this once, Y/n. Don't ever talk to me like that in front of my people again. I run this crew."

His gaze softened slightly as he added, "I know we're family, but out here, I gotta be their leader. You get me?"

You nod understanding the politics of running a club like this. It wasn't simple and it wasn't like Anton was being rude to you.

"Now kid, listen to me very closely." Anton starts, his eyes narrowing, words firm.

You hated when he called you "kid," and Anton damn well knew it. He was only three years older, but you decided to bite your tongue this time, sensing he had something important to say.

"You don't take risks," he said, his voice steady.

You opened your mouth to cut him off, but he quickly held up a hand, his words rushing out before you could get a word in. "—hold on, let me finish! I know you think stealing cars, making illegal mods, and dodging the feds is risky—and yeah, it is... for most people. But not for you. You're too good at it. It's not a risk when you know you're always gonna pull it off. You're in your comfort zone. You don't even flinch anymore."

You crossed your arms, shaking your head. "I don't need the gamble, Ant. Why would I put myself in a position to lose something—everything?"

"But why wouldn't you?" Anton fires back passionately.

For a moment neither of you say anything.

"That's the problem, Y/n," he said finally, his voice low. "You don't take real risks anymore because you're afraid to lose. But sometimes... you gotta lose something to really win. You know what I'm saying?"

You frowned, not fully understanding. "What's that even supposed to mean? I'm not trying to play some high-stakes game just for the thrill of it."

"That's not what I'm talking about, kid. I'm saying there's more to life than just getting by. You can't just keep doing the same shit because it's easy and familiar. You gotta challenge yourself, push yourself outta that comfort zone. That's where the real reward is."

You shifted uncomfortably, not liking where the conversation was headed. "So what, you want me to throw myself into danger for no reason? What are you really getting at, Ant?"

His gaze stayed steady, not backing down. "I'm talking about the garage. Everything we've built. If you keep playing it safe, we'll stay small. But if we take some risks? We could grow this into something huge, we could run the city, Y/n."

His words hung in the air, heavy. You hesitated, feeling the pressure. "And what's the catch?"

A slow smirk crept onto his face as he leaned in. "The catch is, we go all in, or we lose it all."

Your head shook slightly, confused and uneasy. Anton sounded insane right now, with all this talk of taking over the city. "I don't know," you muttered, your voice wavering.

"I'm not saying you have to. Maybe this," he said, gesturing around the garage and the cars. "...isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive Y/n/n? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

————

"Just get home safe, and grab me a pack of cigarettes on your way," your mom says, her tone casual. You exhale, relieved she let you leave without too many questions.

After your talk with Anton, and spending hours tuning up cars for the race, you head home, but your mind lingers on what your cousin said earlier. His words hit deeper than you care to admit—he was right. You've been stuck in your comfort zone for far too long, and you can't even remember the last time you did something that pushed your boundaries.

So, here you are, lying to your mom about getting called in for a late night shift when in reality, you're on your way to the race between the Sinners and Vipers.

Anton was practically beaming when you told him you were finally coming to the race. He couldn't wait to give you a ride to the track.

"Took me, what—six years? Finally got you to show up," Anton shakes his head, laughing as you slide into the passenger seat.

You ignore his teasing, cutting straight to the point. "You nervous?"

"Nah, fuck no. Pussy's a trash driver—he's got nothing on me."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, this is a title race?"

You didn't realize the leaders of both clubs were squaring off tonight. A title race meant more than bragging rights—both sides were gambling big, this race could mean life or death for both clubs.

You were about to ask what else Anton had on the line besides the garage, but the car suddenly surged forward, the burst of speed nearly throwing you out of your seat.

"What the hell! Slow down!" you shout, gripping the armrest tightly.

"Relax, I'm not even hitting two hundred yet—"

The older driver begins to roll his windows up, a sign that he wants to go even faster. The world outside blurred as the engine roared, drowning out the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Anton. Stop." Your voice is steady, firmer than ever leaving no room for argument.

The driver sighs, gradually slowing the car down to legal road limits. "You need to get over it eventually Y/n."

Those were the last words said for the remainder of the ride, you didn't want to argue with your cousin before he has one of the biggest races of his life. He knew why you were antsy with the going beyond a certain speed limit. He knew. Of course, he knew. The crash. The speed. The helplessness you felt back then. You gritted your teeth, willing yourself not to dwell on it, not to bring it up again.

You finally pull into the track, and your eyes widen in awe. It's like you were stepping onto the movie set of Fast and Furious. The area is packed with custom cars, their paint jobs gleaming under the glow of neon lights and street lamps, unique to fit the personality of each driver. Engines roar and rev, filling the air with a pulse that matches the energy of the crowd. People are everywhere—leaning against cars, laughing, shouting over the music blasting from speakers.

The race course itself stretches down a wide, abandoned road, littered with warehouses and graffiti-covered walls. Smoke drifts in the air from burning rubber, and the smell of gasoline is thick. You can feel the intensity of the competition buzzing in the air. This wasn't just a race—it was a spectacle, alive with adrenaline and danger.

Anton slowly turns into beneath a large abandoned overpass that you've often heard was a hotspot for racers and ragers. You pan your eyes across the windshield and immediately spot the rival race crews: a sea of black jackets to the right and a wall of red to the left, each group eyeing each other with the tension only moments from snapping.

You were so caught up in the moment you didn't even notice Anton turn the volume up as he played I Don't Fuck with You by Big Sean while rolling past the Viper's crew. Typical Anton—always stirring the pot. The Vipers glared but didn't act, clearly aware of who you were. You both look at each other and laugh as you join the rest of your crew a bit further into the underpass.

As your cousin parks the car he grabs something from the back seat and tosses it onto your lap—a black leather jacket.

You stared at it for a moment. The design was unmistakable. A large, detailed skull with flames rising behind it, symbolizing both danger and speed. The club's name, Sinners, arched above the skull in bold gothic, tattoo-style font. The club your father founded. The legacy you never wanted.

Your chest tightened as you ran your fingers over the smooth leather. Putting it on would be more than just an outfit choice—it would be an open declaration of association. Your mom would kill you if she ever found out.

Sensing your hesitation, Anton laughed. "Relax, I can see the steam coming out of your head from here. You don't have to wear it, alright? Just throw it over your shoulder or something. People need to know who you're with, that's all."

With that, you both stepped out of the car, and the cheers erupted. They were loud, wild, and unmistakably for Anton—he was their leader. But as the energy surged through the crowd, you couldn't help but wonder if a few of those cheers were meant for you. After all, it was your first time showing up to a race.

As you slipped into the crowd, a few familiar faces greeted you with nods and casual grins, clearly surprised to see you here. You exchanged small talk with some of the members, their conversations a mix of race gossip, bets, and tales of past victories. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, but as the minutes ticked by, you felt the need to break away, the noise and energy overwhelming you.

Stepping out from the cluster of people, you wandered toward the edge of the underpass, taking in the scene. The place was massive—graffiti-streaked pillars towering above, just like the one you were leaning against.

You took this moment to observe the Vipers. You've always had the displeasure of seeing the odd one or two while you were out doing your runs, but this is the first time you've seen the entire crew together. Your eyes land on a certain member. Percy. The only one that had a leader patch on the right sleeve of his jacket, an absurd attempt to assert dominance. You laugh at how lame this guy is. Anton exudes leader, he didn't need a patch on his sleeve reminding everyone he is one.

As you continue making your observations about the Vipers, from the corner of your eye, you noticed movement—someone else seeking the same kind of quiet as you. You glanced over, and there she was, leaning against the opposite side of the same pillar as you. The roar of engines and the blaring music made it easy to miss each other until now.

She was alone, her red jacket slung casually over her arm, a cigarette between her fingers. The contrast of her dark hair against the dim lighting made her stand out even more, and for a moment, she hadn't noticed you.

You tried not to stare, but there was something magnetic about her presence—like the calm before a storm. She flicked her eyes in your direction and froze, her gaze locking onto yours as if she wasn't expecting company either.

She glanced up at the black jacket draped over your shoulder, then at her own red one, casually slung over her arm. With a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, she broke the silence.

"Guess neither of us is feeling the uniform tonight, huh?" she said, flicking ash from her cigarette, her voice low and surprisingly soft.

Of course her voice had to be the sexiest thing you've ever heard. You remained silent, not because you wanted to, but you didn't know how to respond. This is the first time you've ever spoken to a Viper—a hot Viper at that. You didn't know how to interact with a pretty girl, let alone someone who should be your sworn rival.

"Didn't think anyone else would find this spot," she sighs, not sure if she was saying it to you or outloud to herself.

You pushed off the pillar slightly, offering a small shrug. "Needed a breather."

She smirked, exhaling smoke slowly. "Yeah? Thought you Sinners thrived on chaos."

You glanced at the jacket hanging over your shoulder, then back at her. "Guess I'm not like the others." You weren't going to explain to a stranger that you technically aren't a Sinner but you also are.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Clearly." There was a pause, then she gave you a once-over, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "So, what's a Sinner doing hiding out here, away from the action?"

You crossed your arms, feeling the pull of the conversation. "Could ask you the same thing. Vipers don't usually stray from their pack."

She let out a soft laugh, the sound almost lost in the night air. "Maybe I needed a break from all the posturing. You know how it is."

Posturing. What an interesting way to put it you thought to yourself. She wasn't wrong, but it was an oddly honest thing to bring up barely thirty seconds into the conversation. As intrigued as you are, you're also cautious.

You glanced her over in return, taking in her outfit—black combat boots, short black shorts, and a plain white tee, almost identical to the one you were wearing. It was shocking to see a girl from Summer Valley dressed so simply. But the simplicity suited her. She didn't need to be extravagant to stand out, if it wasn't for the jacket on her arm, you would've totally mistaken her for a flag girl, the ones who countdown the race. You've always heard that they're the most beautiful girls on the track, but clearly it wasn't the case tonight.

Your eyes met again, and something unspoken hung in the air between you. Two people from rival crews, both stepping away from the world that defined them.

She held your gaze. You didn't know what it was behind those intense brown eyes. Hatred, curiosity, attraction, a cry for help? You couldn't tell, but you also didn't want to define it. Defining it may mean having to look away. And you didn't want that. Maybe she didn't either, you doubt she would force herself to stay here with you if she didn't want to.

The universe however, had other plans. The voice of one of the flag girls crackled through the megaphone, cutting through the tension. "The big day is finally here!" The rest of her corny speech faded into the background as your focus remained on the girl in front of you. She tore her eyes from yours, sighed, and glanced back at her club.

"I have to go. See you around, Greaser."

"Greaser?" you echoed, raising a brow.

She smirked, giving you a slow, deliberate once-over before turning away.

As much as you wanted to watch her walk away, curiosity tugged at you, pulling your gaze down. You glanced at yourself and chuckled softly—faded blue jeans, white tee, and a black leather jacket. Yeah, you did kind of look like a greaser tonight.

But then you saw it. A grease stain on your shirt. You chuckled softly. So that's why.

You decided it was time to head back to your group. You return a bit more upbeat than when you'd left. As you approached, you noticed Anton climbing into the car you'd been working on earlier with the crew gathered around, wishing him luck before the race. That's when he spotted you at the edge of the crowd and waved you over. The group parted, and soon you were standing face to face with Anton.

"You look happy. Having fun?" he shouted over the roar of his engine and Percy's nearby.

"It's been pretty cool," you replied with a shrug, nodding along—though it wasn't the race itself you were enjoying, but who it had brought here.

Anton hummed in approval before dapping you up and pulling you into a quick hug. "I'll see you in a bit," he grinned, hyping up his team one last time before sliding into the driver's seat, Mason settling into the passenger side.

As Anton shut his door, your eyes drifted to the car next to his. You watched Percy with his crew, their energy almost a mirror of your own. But then you saw something that left you utterly confused.

The mystery girl. She was on her tiptoes, arms wrapped around Percy's neck in a hug that felt way too intimate for your liking.

Is she his girl? Disgusting. More thoughts crept in, but you quickly shut it down. She was a Viper, and you'd only talked to her for ten minutes. You didn't get to feel some type of way about it. She was just...intriguing. Nothing more.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Focus on the race, focus on Anton. You told yourself.

You take a step back and settle in a spot between Madison and Hunter as the flag girls strutted to the front of the starting line, their boots clicking against the asphalt. One girl raised a checkered flag high, her red lips curled into a seductive smile as she glanced at both drivers. The other girl held the megaphone to her lips.

"Racers, are you ready?!" Her voice echoed across the lot, the engines revving in response.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!" Time seemed to slow. The crowd held its breath, and for a split second all that existed was the hum of engines, the gleam of metal, and the flashing lights.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the flag girl swung the checkered flag down, and the cars exploded off the line.

Anton's car launched forward, while Percy's stayed right on his tail, neck and neck. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sheer speed of the cars leaving only a blur of metal behind them as they tore down the street.

With the cars gone you had nothing left to distract you from your thoughts. What were you genuinely doing here, you ask yourself.

Your eyes wandered back to the spot where you had last seen her. That girl—the one who had slipped into your mind with just a few words and a lingering look. Now, with Percy racing down the track, she stood with another Viper. This one was taller, with short hair, and they were both laughing, completely at ease with each other.

You laugh in disbelief shaking your head. This didn't seem like posturing to you, she seemed like she had fit right in. But again you catch yourself thinking, why were you even upset? She never said she hated her crew, she never said anything that implied she was like you, and now you wonder if you interpreted your interaction with her to something you wanted it to be rather than what it actually was.

The thought crept in, unwelcome. Maybe you were projecting your own loneliness, your desire to feel seen, onto someone who didn't even feel the same way. Someone who was just passing time in a moment. She was a Viper, fully a part of this world, while you were just an outsider passing through.

You turned to Madison and Hunter. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You guys want anything?"

They shook their heads, and you made your way to one of the cars stocked with drinks in the trunk. You opted for a soda rather than a beer.

You leaned against the car, slowly sipping your soda and trying to clear your head. The night had taken a strange turn—what started as excitement was now muddy with emotions you weren't sure how to handle. The hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from nearby crews were the only sounds cutting through the noise in your mind.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first, a ripple of unease passing through the crowd. You heard hushed whispers and saw people glancing toward the far end of the lot. Then, like a wave crashing down, the sound of sirens pierced the night.

"Cops!" someone yelled, and the panic spread like wildfire.

People scrambled in every direction, grabbing their things and sprinting for their cars. Engines roared to life, and tires screeched as racers and spectators alike tried to escape before the police descended on the scene.

You tossed your soda to the ground, adrenaline surging through you as you looked around for Madison and Hunter, but they were already sprinting towards the opposite direction with the rest of the crew. You turned to follow, but something made you stop.

She wasn't moving.

In the chaos, you spotted her standing in the middle of the lot, frozen, her eyes wide but not making any attempt to run. She wasn't panicked—she looked more...indifferent, like the flashing red and blue lights didn't mean anything to her.

Without thinking, you darted towards her. Your heart pounded in your chest as you weaved through the fleeing crowd, the sound of sirens growing louder by the second. When you reached her, you didn't hesitate—you grabbed her arm and pulled her.

"Come on!" you shouted over the noise, but she barely reacted, her feet stumbling as you dragged her away from the open lot.

You didn't stop until you reached the mouth of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. You pulled her into the shadows, pressing your back against the wall as you caught your breath. She was in front of you, calm in a way that made no sense considering the chaos unfolding behind you.

She gazed at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she was catching her breath. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

You shot her a look, exasperated. "You're welcome."

The distant sound of police radios crackled through the air as you both stood in silence, waiting for the madness to pass.

"You really should be more careful," you said, trying to break the silence. "It's not safe out there, especially with the cops around."

She shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I guess I'm just used to it. But I appreciate the concern."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and curiosity. "So, what do you usually do in moments like this? Just... stand around?"

Her laughter was light, almost melodic. "Well, not exactly. Usually, I'd just blend in and keep my head down. But you've thrown a bit of a wrench in that plan."

"Is that a bad thing?" you asked, intrigued.

"Not necessarily," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it's definitely unexpected."

You took a step closer, feeling the distance between you narrow. "And here I thought I was just being a good Samaritan."

"Good Samaritan, huh?" She raised an eyebrow, playful yet cautious. "Seems like you might be getting in over your head, then."

"Maybe I like the thrill," you shot back, trying to keep the mood light. But beneath the banter, you both knew the stakes were higher than either of you wanted to admit.

"Well, be careful what you wish for," she said softly, her expression shifting momentarily to something more serious. "Not everything is as exciting as it seems."

You paused, trying to decipher her words. There was a depth to her that hinted at more than she was letting on. But before you could ask, she turned her gaze back to the alley,

Your phone suddenly dinged, breaking the tension. You glanced at it and saw a message from Mason.

"Seems like the cops cut the race short. Your crew lives to see another day."

You chuckled, but she didn't respond, just watching you with her doe eyes. You thought about what it would be like to give in.

But just then, the light caught her wrist, glinting off the expensive bracelet she wore. The sight of it sent a jolt through you—a stark reminder that she was from Summer Valley, a Viper, and probably a handful you couldn't handle.

The realization hit hard, and you felt a rush of uncertainty. She was part of a world you didn't want to dive into, no matter how intriguing she might be.

You decide to walk off, out of the alley.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she called out, jogging to catch up.

"Home. The cops seem to be gone," you replied, keeping your tone light, words short.

The brown-eyed girl looked confused, she thought you were building a connection. Now you were suddenly dismissive, leaving without a word, and you could see her trying to process it.

"...Wait, um..." she stammered, hesitating as if searching for the right words.

You turned back, sensing the moment hanging between you. You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say, and a knot formed in your stomach.

You took a step back, breaking the spell. "I really should go," you said, your voice firm, not giving her a chance to speak. You turned away, leaving her standing there, a mixture of confusion and disappointment on her face.

With that, you turned and walked deeper into the night. You could feel her watching you, but you kept moving, the weight of your decision heavy in your chest. But telling her your name would mean chaos.

As you navigated the alley, Anton's words echoed in your mind. "Maybe this isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

You were sure it wasn't her. As much as you felt a connection, you couldn't get further involved with the race world. She was just a pretty girl you met, and seemed to have some semblance of intellectuality. You know how this ends and its not pretty. You had responsibilities waiting at home—your mom counting on you, the weight of family expectations pressing down like a heavy fog. You had to figure things out on your own, even if it meant leaving her behind.

You can't just be the calculated person that you are and then immediately start taking risks because your cousin told you to. This was your nature. Careful.

Still, a part of you wondered if the real risk was not in chasing the girl but in denying yourself the chance to discover what could truly make your heart race.

next chapter

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months ago

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Who doesn't love a perfectly preserved time capsule? This 1968 beauty in Rockford, IL is like stepping back in time. 4bds, 4ba, $450K.

The small entrance has tiled flooring to protect the carpet that runs all through the house.

Why is it always green? This was a dramatic home when it was new- stone fireplace, sunken living room, and wrought iron railings were the height of fashion.

The living area is huge. Note the large stone bench matching the fireplace and the cornice boards that discreetly hide the unsightly curtain rods.

The fireplace stone continues and has a huge mirror. In the corner is shelving and 2 steps up to the dining room.

The dining room has dated curtains that the buyer will inherit. I love the kitty-corner table. That was a common placement in mid-century style.

Next comes the kitchen. Actually, they must've updated it b/c I don't think that 2-tone cabinets were a thing yet. But, the ditzy, small, busy print of the wallpaper with matching shades was definitely the style. Note the original avocado dishwasher and dust shelving above the upper cabinetry, that was later replaced by soffits.

Wait a minute, I'm seeing props here- there's a new dishwasher and new ovens, but they kept the old avocado ones. I wonder if they work or, if it's just nostalgia. There are also 2 cooktops. Wow, they really preserved everything.

Look at the green glass.

Large laundry room off the kitchen.

Oh, look, an avocado washer/dryer set. This is amazing. And, look at the old sink. I hope someone who loves it, buys it, b/c it was so lovingly cared for.

Nice large everyday dining area has a pony wall separating the family room. So much green everywhere. I wonder if this set came that way or if they painted it.

Another stone fireplace flanked by shelving. Knotty pine walls, and folding shutter doors- all fashions of the past. I can't believe that they have the Colonial furniture that was so popular at the time. Even though it was all the rage, you don't see it around anymore. According to the listing, there is going to be an estate sale, so this furniture will be available.

The primary bedroom is pretty big. Geez, there's carpeting everywhere and some of it is looking gnarly.

It has an en-suite, which is unusual. Look at that fancy cabinet. Green laminate counter, too.

This bedroom is also pretty big. Look at the consummate girl's white bedroom furniture of the mid-century.

The den has a big old map probably with countries that don' t even exist anymore.

More bedrooms on the 2nd fl.

Oh, look at that! A hope chest! They were popular for a teenage girl to receive as a gift. Then, she would put in blankets, etc., in the hopes of one day getting married and using them. I can't get over the historic furniture in this place.

And, then they've got a big family room up here. Wow, this house has so much furniture and tchotchkes.

Winter? No problem. Just set the lawn furniture up in the basement.

There's also a finished part of the basement. This is a craft room, and there is also a canning room.

Look at the antique freezer on the right. This place is a museum.

This part of the basement isn't finished even though it has a brick fireplace. No matter, they still used it as a family room, anyway.

According to the listing, this is a 2 car garage, called a "cottage garage," b/c I guess it looks like a residence.

This cool log cabin on the property is used as a playhouse, according to the listing.

Yeah, but look at it, it's really a residence.

There's a lot of land, 3.50 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/6151-Newburg-Rd-Rockford-IL-61108/5537324_zpid/

#time capsule homes #time capsules #mid century modern homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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cheenapri · 26 days ago

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Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day ???

Summary: Illumi wants to get reacquainted with you after you escaped from him

Word Count: 3.9k

AN: Can we pretend it didn't take me half a year to finish this pls. This is also the last installment for Transactional, anything I write for Illumi in the future will be unrelated

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is not very nice, reader gets strangled

Day One Day Two + Three Day Four + Five

The cool night air felt nice against your skin. You take a deep breath, looking down at your feet as you continue walking. The song of the crickets was barely audible against the sound of honking cars and other city noises. You pull your jacket tighter against yourself to ease the faint anxiety that always ate away at you.

You were returning to the motel you currently stayed at after finishing your last shift at your part-time job. Your job was nondescript, just like your disguise; an under-the-table job at a diner. It was perfect for a runaway such as you as it didn’t require IDs and paid in cash. You were offered the job by a sweet older woman you’d become friends with, her kindness extended as she had also given you a phone free of charge. It was an old model, but you were ecstatic nonetheless.

You felt stable as a pattern in your daily life began to form without unbearable dread scaring you into hopping onto the next bus and fleeing to another city. You hadn’t thought about his name quite as much but it never truly left your mind. The anxiety coupled with expectations of his long, sharp claws snatching you away at any moment slowly dissipated each time it failed to happen.

You have learned to live again.

You were no longer going hungry for days at a time, stealing food and water just to evade starvation. You were no longer forced to sleep outside if you even could sleep, worried you were too exposed and he’d come to scoop you up in any minute. You no longer had to wear the same clothes for days on end, the rainwater being the only thing rinsing them and making them somewhat clean again.

Finding a serious buyer for the wedding ring he had given you was awfully difficult, from scammers who lied and told you it was a fake ring to almost getting robbed a few times. It was a good thing he told you how much it was worth that one time, casually spilling that he had spent one-hundred fifty-five million yen on it. As much as you wanted all of that cash, you had to settle with one million as you were becoming desperate and needed the funds to take care of yourself.

After you were able to secure the money, you immediately got yourself a cheap motel room, some food, and some new clothes, using the rest of it to fund your travels. You never stayed at motels for long, making sure to stay on the road and get as far away from that evil man as you could. You honestly thought your escape would be fruitless, that he’d find and kill you almost immediately, but as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you wondered if he was even looking for you. Sure, you had drastically changed your appearance, but you were certain he wouldn’t need to look so hard to know it was you.

To this day, you still wonder if you actually escaped or if he had willingly let you go.

After weeks of begging and feigning passionate favors, you found yourself on yet another date with him — your last date with him. He had taken it upon himself to take you out whenever he felt you’d earned it, the requirements for earning it always seeming to change based on his mood.

You felt like some kind of stress reliever, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

At least he hadn’t hurt you in a long while, or rather “disciplined” as he liked to call it. It was probably because you weren’t challenging his delusions anymore, allowing him to convince himself and others that you two were a normal, happy couple. He even began to trust you a bit, initially allowing you time out in the garden under Shiori’s supervision before allowing you to explore freely.

His family had warmed up to you as he’d said. Not in the sense that you all hung out and drank tea together, but rather in the sense that they either ignored you or treated you like you were a pet. They rarely ever refer to you by name if at all. Kikyo especially as she took it upon herself to “teach” you how to better serve her son. Her teachings were always mentally draining.

Kalluto was the most bearable Zoldyck. He wasn’t intimidating, overwhelmingly at least, he never said a word, and he never made any effort to hurt you. He only seemed curious at your existence, like you were some brand new undiscovered species. As long as he kept his distance when watching you, you had no issues with him.

Silva seemed to view you as a spectacle but never looked at you for more than a few seconds, Zeno even less. That was a guess, however, as you were too afraid to look either of them in the eye. They were aware of that and seemed to respect you since they avoided you as much as you avoided them, even if it was more so to preserve their eminence.

You hadn’t seen Milluki since the dinner, only hearing news of him from eavesdropping, and you thankfully hadn’t been forced to go back to the Zoldyck mansion for another agonizing family meal either. Shiori wasn’t as active in her role as your assigned butler, but your captor had been in his role as your “husband”. You got that skylight you wanted though it was at the price of your dignity.

You shake your head before rubbing your temples, not wanting to let your mind wander to something that was long in the past. Picking your head back up, your speed quickens, carrying you inside the near-empty motel lobby and into the elevator.

Your phone buzzes.

You fumble around in your pocket for it, pulling it out and tapping the message notification from your boss. It read:

“I appreciate your hard work today. Your paycheck should come in tomorrow.”

The elevator shudders as it ascends, but your eyes remain fixed on your phone’s screen, the three little dots implying she had something more to say.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know that I’m here if you ever need anything or need to talk to someone.”

You had never told anyone you’d stumbled across the truth about your situation, afraid they’d be endangered if that man found out about it. You didn’t need to, however, as your anxieties were written on your face clear as day despite your best efforts.

You clutch the phone in your hands. This was all so unfair. You hold the very object that would allow you to communicate with your family, to call for help, but you’re unable to do so, his past threats towards your family a constant reminder every time you thought about calling them.

You refuse to put anyone else in danger.

The elevator dings as its doors open, revealing a dimly lit corridor before you. You slowly begin walking, your phone still open on your boss’ text message as you’re unsure of what to say. You desperately want someone to confide in, someone to tell your traumatizing story to, but you won’t do it at the cost of their life. Your thumb squeezes the power button, shutting the phone off and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As you reach the corner you must turn down to get to your room, you stop. It’s eerily silent. Your head hurts. You feel sick.

Your phone buzzes again, echoing within the empty halls.

“Maybe we can sit down and chat before you leave tomorrow if you’re comfortable?”

You continue and turn the corner, looking down at the text before turning the phone off once again and slipping it into your pocket, chalking up your sudden nausea to your recent thoughts about him.

You stop. Your room is at the end of the hall, you stand mere feet away from completing your recent daily routine and yet you’re unable to get yourself to move like you had many times before.

It was simple: wake up, go to work, go “home”, go to sleep, rinse, repeat. However, your daily pattern never featured a strange man standing still as a statue right by your motel room door.

Your expression is almost as blank as his, you’re unable to react. You stare at him as he does at you, neither of you saying a word. His jaw ever so slightly clenched, his pointer finger twitching, his eyes unblinking.

This headache will kill you before he does.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice an unfortunate familiarity. His tone is calm as always. Slowly, he inspects you from his spot, not commenting on your failure to greet him as he had “taught” you while he takes in your disguise. He hums to himself, quiet yet audible enough for you to hear. “I’m not a fan of the new look.”

His words were blunt, his eyes meeting your gaze once more. “You disappeared for a while.” He pauses momentarily and allows the tension to build as his stare remains fixated on you. “I thought someone else had gotten to you first.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Your mouth feels dry yet you swallow hard, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as you’re face-to-face with the one person you never wanted to see again: Illumi Zoldyck.

He’s angry, he has to be.

He was interfering with your plans. You were supposed to pack up and leave the motel tomorrow in search of another hiding spot to avoid this very event. How did he even find you after all this time? Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities. You know you didn’t leave any traces because you couldn’t leave any, all products were purchased in cash or discretely stolen, your face covered and head low at all times, and you never stayed in one spot for too long until recently. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable? Unable to think logically, you slowly put your hands up in a defensive position, your body shifting as you take a step back.

“Don’t move.” He reaches out toward you — the space suddenly feels colder. Your body freezes as instructed despite the possibility of your freedom or even your life coming to an end. “You’ve run enough. Come here.”

You stay still, afraid to move let alone bridge the gap between the two of you. Illumi is static, still standing in his position with his arm outstretched to you. You’re like a deer in headlights, your face expressing nothing but pure terror to the man before you. Maybe you’ll turn invisible if you remain still enough…

“I won’t be so forgiving if I have to come to you,” Illumi threatens, a slight frown on his face.

What’s the difference if he’s going to torture and kill you either way? Wouldn’t it be better for him to be rough so you could die faster?

“Come here,” Illumi repeats once more, a much more commanding tone in his voice. You were in no position to test his patience.

Tears begin stinging your eyes as reality sinks in even further, your heart burying itself into your stomach. With shaky legs, you take a slow step toward him. Your eyes dart from door to door hoping that if you stalled long enough, someone would come out and discover the two of you. Normally you wouldn’t wish anyone the misfortune of stumbling across Illumi, but your morals seem to dissipate now that you are being confronted.

Illumi remains silent as you cautiously approach him, your eyes wide and your steps hesitant. Your fear grows stronger the closer you get to him. You flinch when he lowers his arm, your mind convinced that every movement he made was malicious.

“You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?” Illumi asks sarcastically, the sarcasm in his voice is barely noticeable and the question almost seems legit. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, though that was your plan from the beginning.”

He holds his hand out to you, the unspoken command for you to take it obvious. You hesitate, however, as past incidents of him crushing your hand as punishment resurface in your mind. He’ll start by breaking your hands before breaking your legs and then finally breaking your neck, leaving you crumpled and gasping for air in the motel’s hallway.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. “Give me your hand.” Illumi verbalized his command as his patience was running out.

You’re visibly shaking, the tears in your eyes now overflowing. Slowly, you bring your trembling hand forth, cringing a few times as you envision yourself putting it in the mouth of a metal shredder. With your fate unavoidable, you place your hand in his, eyes shut tightly and head lowered as you mentally prepare for what’s to come.

Silently, he takes hold of it with his other hand, pulling you closer to him. Illumi took note of your every reaction. The recoiling at his sudden movements, the shivering when his hand rubbed against yours, and, of course, your blatant anticipation of what he’ll do next.

His eyes move from your face to your fingers — narrowing slightly as the object he was looking for seems to be missing. He underestimated just how reckless you were, though the thought of you doing what he secretly dreaded was always possible.

He’s quiet, attention focused on your ring finger as if trying to manifest the symbol of your bond with him out of thin air. His anger was palpable.

“Hm… you sold it,” he states, tone flat and expression unreadable. “How much?”

Your hand trembles, his itching to squeeze with intent to crush. You grumble your answer, voice timid as your eyes look off to the side. Before you could even react, his hand springs forth and grabs your jaw in a vice-like grip — his hold is dangerously close to your neck. Illumi forces your head up, his gaze meeting yours.

He doesn’t say anything, only holding you in this unfortunate position. You let out a deep breath through your nose, your eyes shutting as you repeat yourself in a louder tone, “O-One million yen.”

Illumi abruptly releases his hold as if disgusted with you, his actions a stark contrast to your prediction of him immediately ripping your head off. He mentally repeats the number, his internal resentment battling over which to be more furious over: you being stupid enough to sell your binding to him, especially for such a low amount, and then using the cash to run away from him, or you being stupid enough to even think about selling your binding to him at all?

Ultimately, he chose both.

Quietly, Illumi reaches into his pocket, eyes still trained on you as he retrieves the motel’s master key. He then turns to swiftly unlock your room’s door, stepping back and gesturing for you to head inside.

You don’t move, and the itch to run becomes more tempting. Seeing your hesitation, Illumi takes it upon himself to guide you inside, placing a hand on your lower back and practically shoving you into the room. Once the both of you are inside, he shuts and locks the door behind him with clear finality, watching as you back away and clumsily stumble onto the bed.

He doesn’t turn the lights on, the only light being from the moon’s glow through the window. He steadily moves toward you before stopping just shy of the window, the moonlight partially illuminating his features. He seemed less controlled, almost giving you a death stare in his own way.

“Go on,” he says, a noticeable edge to his voice. His request was open-ended, its implication meaning anything. He wanted to see just how stupid you were.

You scratch your head and think of thousands of ways to die at that very moment. If you’d gotten a gun from a shady seller, you could’ve made your unplanned interaction with Illumi short and messy — if you were even able to grab it. Maybe if you piss him off enough he’d deem you unworthy and side with his inner instincts, wasting no more time and snuffing the life out of you efficiently.

“You’re…” you start, ”You’re suffocating me. I just want to live.” Your arms wrap around you as you seek comfort in this unfortunate predicament.

Illumi takes his time processing your weak excuse, the weight of his scrutiny becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. He tilts his head, “You think you can live without me?”

“I can and I did for several months!” Your voice no longer felt weak. You shut your eyes as your deep-seated disdain for him builds even further within you — your mind no longer concerned about the possible repercussions. What more did you have to lose anyway?

“You weren’t living, you were surviving.” Illumi straightens his head. He allows time for his words to sink in as he takes in the sight of you again, his eyes flicking over your cheap hoodie, worn-out shoes, and tired, yet angry eyes. “The streets hadn’t been very good to you, I see.” His eyes move to make contact with yours. “You look a mess.”

“You’ve made me look worse!” You grit your teeth. Without thinking, all your pent-up anger was released at that very moment — the worst moment. “You’ve taken everything from me and you treat me like shit! You don’t know what love is! You’re horrible and I hate you!”

At that, he moved. The air around you shifted — a menacing, yet familiar energy you realized you hadn’t felt until now. You’ve provoked him, that much evident from the visible frown on his face and a slight furrowing of his brow.

“You talk too much.” He closes the distance between you and shoves you down onto the bed. Your breath hitches, your hands up defensively as you prepare to fight a battle you know you won’t win.

His movements are deliberately slow as if the anticipation was intended to be its own form of punishment. You go to move backward, to relieve yourself — even momentarily — of his overwhelming presence, but he pushes you down again. The bed dips under his weight, his hands moving ever so slowly towards your neck. Knowing this wasn’t a bluff, you grab his wrists and try in vain to push them away.

You’re too weak.

“You’re in no position to speak to me in such a manner. Here, I’ll show you.” His hands grip your neck with immense pressure, causing you to gasp and claw at his wrists.

Illumi remains reasonably calm, externally at least, as he watches you struggle beneath him. “(Name),” he says. His grip loosened completely which allowed you to breathe. You continued coughing as you took in deep breaths but your sense of relief was quickly snatched away as his hands squeezed again. “(Name),” he calls again.

An overwhelming sense of dread embodies you as you realize that he is actually going to kill you. You’re unable to deny your survival instincts forcing you to fight back despite a smaller part of you reasoning that this was the happy ending you so desperately wanted.

Illumi’s grip loosens once more, his gaze softens watching you spring back to life and greedily suck in oxygen. He relished in the control he lacked over you for so long. He wants something from you and you know that.

“I’m… sorry!” you manage to force out between breaths. You’re crying hysterically now, apologizing again and again as you don’t wish for your final moments to be as humiliating as this.

“For what? What did you do this time, (Name)?” Illumi asks calmly, his fingers digging into your neck the more you try to pry them off.

You hesitate despite the situation. You’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for a damn thing. Your lungs are burning though so you have no choice. “I’m… sorry for… run-running away…”

Illumi hums, his black eyes boring into you. “Running away wasn’t your only offense. What else have you done?”

Your head is spinning though you’re still able to breathe somewhat. You tap his wrist, a pathetic admittance of defeat. He doesn’t let go though.

“Please… get off me,” you beg. He ignores your pleas and keeps you pinned beneath him, his thumbs ready to press down on your windpipe at any given moment.

“You haven’t admitted all your wrongdoings. You haven’t fully apologized,” he states flatly.

“I don’t-“

You’re cut off as he crushes your throat, his eyes narrowing. “You do.”

You’re beginning to panic again. You’re unable to rack your brain for whatever thing you’d done to warrant such an assault.

Illumi could feel your pulse quickening. The temptation to squeeze just a bit more until it slows to a halt is overwhelming. He’s had you at his mercy before, but he had never thought of actually going through with it. His eyes are glued to you, taking in the drooping of your eyelids, the paleness of your skin, and how your body is relaxing. Even now as you’re being rightfully punished for daring to betray him, you still manage to humanize him – forcing him to feel something he was taught to suppress.

He hated it.

But he hated the way he hesitated even more.

Illumi releases your throat, and you spring back to life. You have no tears left to cry, only coughs and hoarse sobs as you replenish your oxygen. It was clear to Illumi that you were simply too stupid and stubborn to be sorry, and that it would be a waste of time to continue forcing disingenuous apologies out of you.

That’s okay. You’ll come around.

He slides off of you and fixes his clothes as if nothing had even happened. His calm, blank expression slipped back into place as he took in your small motel room. “This is what you’ve run to.” His voice carries a hint of mockery.

There was a lack of concern for your struggling figure on the bed, only disapproval as if you were acting. Your throat ached, and your head spun. Why were you still here?

“You’ve proven you are incapable of handling any ounce of freedom given to you. You cannot be trusted to make decisions on your own. You don’t know what’s good for you… that’s why you need me.”

He returns to the bed, standing over you once more. “Get up,” he says, “it’s time to go.”

Though you knew it was coming since death failed to, your heart sank at the thought of stepping foot in that wretched place once again. You let out a strangled sob, your limbs quaking as you force yourself up.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, (Name).” Illumi places a not-so-comforting hand on your shoulder. “We have to ensure this incident won’t happen again.”

His subtle threat confirmed the plans he had in store for you. Your body refused to move as the realization that you were back at square one sunk in, but you forced yourself onto your wobbly legs as you were only delaying what was clearly inevitable.

He wouldn’t forgive you – you knew that – and the treatment you’d receive would be much, much worse.

#yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere illumi #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #male yandere

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dreamwritesimagines · 10 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [12] - Chase

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some car rides aren’t relaxing.

Word Count: 3200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You hummed a song as you walked through the luxurious duplex penthouse, following the real estate agent who looked thrilled to be there.

“The skyline is absolutely gorgeous as you can see,” she said. “And just letting you know, I already have three very interested buyers—”

“They’ll wait,” you stated calmly and she paused for a moment, then smiled at you.

“Of course!” she said. “Just—you know, just a fun fact! Anyway, this floor has an open kitchen and two guest bedrooms, a bathroom…”

“Two guest rooms?”

“One of which could be turned into a nursery,” she said and winked at you. “Or you could hire me when it’s time for a family home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said with a weary smile, “but let’s just take that off the table for the moment.”

She held up her hands.

“And the upstairs has the primary bedroom suite with its own breathtaking terrace of course, the master bathroom and two walk in closets. Perfect for a newlywed couple if you ask me!”

You nodded your head. “Are the windows bulletproof?”

She blinked a couple of times.

“…I doubt it?” she said. “But we’re on the 50th floor.”

“And surrounded by other 50 floor skyscrapers,” you said and heaved a sigh. “That’s fine, we’ll get it fixed if we decide on this one.”

“Would you like to see the terrace?” she motioned and before you could say anything, you heard footsteps coming closer and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky stepping into the apartment.

“Hi gorgeous,” he said and approached you to press a kiss on top of your head, then turned to the real estate agent. “Viola. It's a pleasure to see you again.”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine Mr. Barnes,” she said with a giggle, a smile lighting up her face and you looked between them, raising your brows.

“Would you give us a moment while we check the terrace please, Viola?” you asked as you pulled Bucky by his vibranium arm to the huge sliding glass doors, then stepped outside.

Dear God, the skyline was absolutely gorgeous.

“So,” Bucky said. “What do you think?”

You clicked your tongue. “Before I answer that, I have a quick question.”

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck our real estate agent?”

He tilted his head, furrowing his brows together. “What?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well because she got all flustered and smiley, and if you did it’s totally fine but it’s gonna be a little awkward honestly—”

“I didn’t!” he said. “She helped with Becca’s apartment, that’s how we know each other.”

“You own multiple skyscrapers in this part of the town and you needed a real estate agent?”

“Do I look like I am personally handling any of the buildings I own?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine, fine…” you said. “So why were you late again? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“My mom dropped by the office,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you frowned.

“Why?”

“She wants us to reconsider the guest list.”

“You mean she wants us to invite more people?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Yup. Good for business, apparently.”

“The guest list and the seating chart are already finished,” you said and he sat down on the nearest sofa which looked so comfortable from where you were standing.

“I mean, would inviting more people hurt?”

“Yeah Bucky, it would hurt my head,” you said as you glanced at the fireplace in the corner of the terrace, then flung yourself on the armchair across from the sofa. “Winnifred is such a boy mom.”

“Oh come on,” he said with a small laugh. “She loves you.”

“Uh huh, until our divorce.”

He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“I’m kind of convinced your father might actually shoot me when we announce our divorce, so...”

“He won’t shoot you,” you told him, waving a hand in the air. “That being said, we’re not inviting more people.”

“I told her the same thing, that’s why it took me half an hour to convince her,” he said, leaning back to shoot you a mischievous grin. “But I think she’ll get over it if we promise to name our firstborn daughter after her.”

You hummed. “You can get a fish.”

“A fish?”

“A tankful of them, you can name all of them after your family members,” you said and sat up straighter. “So, the apartment?”

“I’m good with it if you are,” he said and stole a look at the windows. “I don’t know shit about this building though, are the windows bulletproof?”

“I asked the same thing, she said probably not.”

“It’s fine, we can get that fixed,” he said and you felt a smile curling your lips, then kicked at his shoe with yours.

“Come on,” you said as you got up from the armchair. “We should take a look at upstairs, apparently the terrace there is breathtaking as well.”

Apart from the fact that it only had two guest rooms, the penthouse was absolutely perfect. You figured since you were going to get a divorce, you didn’t really need multiple guest rooms at this point, and you were pretty sure you were going to use one of them as an armory anyway.

Before you would meet Becca and Leila for dinner, your father had asked you for lunch together so after you were done at the penthouse -your new home, you reminded yourself- you made your way to the familiar skyscraper of your father’s company, but then checked your wristwatch and pursed your lips together.

You were half an hour early, and you really didn’t feel like seeing Ian any more than necessary.

You took a look at the café across from the skyscraper and lingered there for a moment, then approached there and sat down at a table. The waitress came to you to take your order and you ordered a latte before pulling out your phone to text Becca about the penthouse, but before you could send all the photos, someone pulled the chair across from yours to sit down, making your head snap up.

“Romanoff?” you squeaked out, staring at the beautiful redhead and she gave you a calm smile.

“Natasha is fine,” she said. “Do you mind?”

“Not—not at all!” you managed to say, sitting up straighter. Even though Natasha was one of the major player in the city, you two hadn’t really spent any time together just like you and Stark. You knew she was good friends with Steve and sort of friends with Bucky, but other than that, she was mostly a mystery to you.

“I had a meeting with your father,” she said, pointing at the building with her thumb. “Was just leaving when I saw you and I figured I could give you my congratulations about the wedding.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding fervently. “Thanks. I um—I really appreciate it.”

“Quite the fast wedding though,” she pointed out, making you gulp.

“Yeah we figured, you know, we’ve known each other for all our lives.”

“Right,” she said. “Of course. So are you going to take over right after the wedding then?”

Your eyes widened and you gawked at her while the waitress brought your coffee, and turned to her.

“Could I get you anything?”

“No thank you, I won’t stay for long,” Natasha said and the waitress walked away as you cleared your throat.

“Um, I—” you stammered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her gaze was almost reprimanding as if you were trying to make her believe the table in front of her didn’t exist. You knew she was smart, no one who wasn’t smart would be able to survive at the top in this business for so long, but you had been hoping that you weren’t that obvious at the very least.

“I’m asking because if you’re going to do it at the wedding, I’m going to eat something beforehand,” she pointed out. “Considering your idiot cousin is not going to just let that happen, if bullets start flying…”

“What makes you think I want to take over?”

She let out a small laugh.

“Oh come on,” she said. “I never took you as naïve, the least you could do is return the favor. Not to mention, if you want me on your side when the time comes, you’re going to have to cut the bullshit.”

“And if that were true,” you said after a beat. “If I wanted to take over, what would be your opinion?”

She hummed.

“Well,” she trailed off. “For starters, you would make a better business partner than Ian, so you have that going for you.”

“But…?”

“But you have no field experience,” she pointed out. “And practically zero support in the family.”

“I don’t necessarily need family support to take over,” you said. “It’s happened before. Most people follow power, no matter who holds it.”

“And the experience?”

“I have the training,” you said. “I’ll prove myself, I know very well that I have to.”

She arched a brow, then let a small smile curl her lips.

“Not to mention I’d keep the truce after taking over,” you said. “You can’t say the same thing for Ian.”

“Not very subtle, that one,” she murmured and you licked your lips.

“How did you know though?” you asked. “That I wanted it?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your father has two starving dogs and only one steak,” she said. “Doesn’t take a genius, really. I told Clint about it way before you and Bucky got engaged.”

You huffed out a laugh and she pushed her chair back, then stood up.

“I mean you do have the training so you know how it ends, don’t you?” she asked. “One of you will have to tear the other’s throat out.”

That made you swallow thickly and you nodded your head, your teeth clenched together. She kept your gaze in hers for a couple of seconds, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Good luck,” she said calmly and walked away from you to get into her car, and you slid a little in your chair, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Good talk.”

You had sent your bodyguards away for the night considering Becca already had hers who would accompany you to the nightclub. She had insisted on driving her car on the way there and you had a strong feeling that it was her way of showing Leila there was nothing to be intimidated about the business or her place in it, and that she could adapt to the civilian life just fine.

Love made people do all sorts of things, apparently.

Becca’s bodyguards’ car was following you as you leaned your head on the window, making yourself comfortable in the backseat and you took a look at your phone, then cleared your throat.

“Do you guys think I should text Ethan?”

Becca frowned at you from the rearview mirror before turning her attention on the road and Leila turned sideways in the passenger seat so that she could see you better.

“Do you want to?”

“I mean I feel like I should,” you said. “Technically, the guy took a bullet for me.”

Becca let out a noise of disagreement. “The guy took a bullet while you were there, it’s not the same thing.”

“He wouldn’t have got shot if I weren’t there though,” you pointed out and Leila hummed.

“I mean he’s gonna have to get over the fact that you’re in love with someone else and getting married,” she said. “If you’re friends…”

“We are.”

“You were only friends because he was hoping it would turn into a relationship,” Becca sang in a teasing manner and you rolled your eyes at her.

“I actually like spending time with him though,” you said. “I don’t know, I can’t help feel a bit guilty because—”

You were interrupted when a police car turned the corner to get in between you and Becca’s bodyguards’ car and flashed its headlights, signaling at you to pull over. Becca’s eyes snapped up to yours in the rearview mirror as your stomach dropped and you sat up straighter while Leila looked over her shoulder.

“Babe, they’re telling us to pull over.”

Becca’s jaw clenched before she cleared her throat while you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Do you mind changing seats with Y/N, my love?”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not the police,” you told her. “No police in this city ever stops us.”

“What do you—” she started but let out a scream when another car hit Becca’s bodyguards car from the side, making it stop as the bullets started flying. Becca reached out to make her duck and you looked back, letting out a curse.

“Leila, the car is bulletproof,” Becca said, her voice calm as if there weren’t bullets hitting the car. “It’s all going to be fine, I just need you to change seats with Y/N.”

“O—okay…” Leila stammered and pushed herself through the small gap between her and Becca’s seat to reach the backseat, and you squeezed at her arm.

“Nothing will happen to you, just keep your head down,” you assured her and pulled your gun from your purse, then got on the passenger seat, adrenaline running through your veins.

“HYDRA?”

“Has to be,” Becca said as she sped up the car, swirling the car left and right so that some of the bullets wouldn’t hit it. “What are you thinking?”

You checked the GPS on the screen. “Sam’s territory.”

“Alright,” she muttered as she found and touched his name on the screen while you counted the bullets that seemed to be endless with the way they were raining on the car.

“Sooner or later that motherfucker is gonna have to change the magazine—”

“Hi Becca,” Sam’s voice reached the car. “Um, why am I hearing gunshots?”

Becca swirled the car on the road again. “HYDRA is following us, I’m in the car with Y/N and Leila.”

“What?!”

“It’s fine, Bucky made sure the car was bulletproof the day I bought it,” Becca added. “Listen, Sam I’m sharing my location with you, we’re like two minutes away from your territory and HYDRA’s men are right behind us so we can’t turn back—”

“I’m sending the cars and calling Buck,” Sam said and Becca hung up the phone as you opened the car window, then leaned out of the window and fired the shot at the man’s hand when he slid the next magazine into the gun, making him let out a yell. You quickly got back in and huffed out a breath.

“They have a bulletproof car as well but that should slow them down for a couple of seconds,” you muttered and turned to look at Leila who was still covering her head, curled up on the backseat.

“Leila?” Becca said. “Talk to me.”

“I—I think I’m fine?” Leila replied, her voice shaking. “Jesus Christ…”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Becca said and Leila shook her head.

“It’s not your fault Becca.”

The bullets started hitting the car again and you gritted your teeth, then checked the GPS again while Becca stepped on the accelerator.

“Babe, remember how you asked why the truce was so important in this city?” she asked Leila. “This is why.”

The moment your car entered Sam’s territory, two cars coming from the opposite direction turned their headlights on and wheezed past you, surrounding the car behind you. Becca pulled over and let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she reached out to hold your hand to squeeze it.

“You okay?”

“Mm hm,” you said, your heart still beating in your ears as your phone started vibrating on the backseat. “You?”

“Peachy,” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt, and touched Leila’s back. “Leila?”

Even you could tell that Leila was shaken up but she raised her head and wiped at her eyes, sniffling.

“I’m okay,” she rasped out. “Is it safe now?”

“Yeah,” Becca said. “I—Leila, I’m incredibly sorry for this…”

“Not your fault,” Leila said, her voice still trembling even if she tried to smile. “And I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” you managed to say and grabbed your phone before you stepped out of the car. Bucky’s name was flashing on the screen and you took a deep breath, then answered it and took it to your ear.

“Becca is fine,” you said. “Leila too. Sam’s people are here.”

There was a second of silence on the other side of the line before you heard Bucky letting out a relieved breath.

“Sweetheart?” he said, his voice gentle. “Are you alright?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to get rid of the fear churning your insides.

“Mm hm.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I shot one of them in the hand,” you said, your eyes falling on the three HYDRA men Sam’s people had dragged out of the car. The sight of one of them still holding onto his bleeding hand made the anger rush through your system so fast that it made your head spin, your vision going red.

Attacking you was one thing but attacking your friends and putting them in danger was another.

And you were not going to let that happen.

“Good job,” Bucky said softly as if trying to calm you down. “I’m on my way, alright?”

“Uh huh,” you said and hung up as you gripped your gun tighter, then pushed the phone into your pocket to make your way to the crowd. Sam’s people all turned to you before one of them stepped closer and you tried to focus through the blinding anger, dragging your gaze from the captives to her.

“Ma’am,” she said, stretching out her hand so that you could shake it with your free hand. “My name is Aubrey. Mr. Wilson let us know about what happened, he is on his way here. Is everyone in the car alright?”

“Yeah,” you said through frozen lips. “Thank you Aubrey. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she said and you walked past her to get closer to HYDRA’s men. The one who was cradling his bloody hand glared at you, then spat at the ground.

“Doesn’t matter where you take us, I’ll die before I speak,” he growled and you arched a brow, then shrugged your shoulders calmly as if fury wasn't pounding in your head.

“Happy to follow your schedule buddy.”

You raised your gun and fired it right between his eyes, his lifeless body hitting the ground as the loud shot echoed through the road. Aubrey raised her brows and exchanged glances with one of her men while you lowered the gun and wiped the blood off your face.

“I’ll be over there until my fiancé gets here,” you said, motioning at the direction of Becca’s car. “Thanks again.”

With that, you made your way to the car and jumped to sit on the trunk so that you wouldn’t interrupt Becca and Leila’s conversation. You put the gun beside you with a sigh, then crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms, adrenaline still roaring through you.

“Great,” you murmured, turning your gaze up to the sky. “Here goes my night I guess.”

Chapter 13

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob! bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #mob!au #mob au

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 4 months ago

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𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟔 𝐀𝐌𝐂 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝟑𝟐𝟕

The 1966 AMC Marlin 327 is a distinctive fastback coupe, blending style and performance with a unique design that set it apart from other cars of its era. Produced by American Motors Corporation (AMC), the Marlin was known for its bold, sweeping roofline and sporty appearance. Under the hood, the 1966 model came equipped with a 327 cubic inch (5.4-liter) V8 engine, providing up to 270 horsepower, which delivered strong performance and made it competitive in the muscle car market.

The Marlin's design emphasized a sleek, aerodynamic profile, with a long hood, fastback rear, and wide stance. Inside, it offered a comfortable and well-appointed interior with seating for four and a focus on driver comfort. The 1966 AMC Marlin 327 was part of AMC’s effort to compete with larger automakers, offering something unique for buyers who wanted both performance and a standout design. Today, it remains a rare and sought-after classic.

#𝐀𝐌𝐂 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝟑𝟐𝟕 #𝐀𝐌𝐂 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 #𝐀𝐌𝐂 #𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 #𝟑𝟐𝟕 #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle

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kiwi-on-ice · 4 months ago

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Sugar daddy headcannons with Ashe, Hanzo, Sombra and Lifeweaver with fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics present in some, sex toys, just general filth

Notes: Listen, sometimes a girl just needs someone to pay them to be pretty, okay? Just some silly headcannons of the characters I think would spend the most money on their partners.

Ashe:

Oh baby, she’s the DEFINITION of a sugar daddy. Nothing on earth can stop her from spoiling you.

New clothes, new nails, new accessories, new car, new hairstyle…all bought without a second thought and a slap on your ass. I mean if you’re gonna be the special doll of the leader of the deadlock gang, you’re gonna have to look the part.

Especially if she’s planning on having you sit on her lap during a meeting. Wants your nails done and a new dress on you so everyone can look on in jealousy that you’re hers.

Yes that also extends to lingerie. She’s gonna buy you the most expensive types, with different colours, textures, everything. Typically as a present, an apology for when she goes away for one of her heists or a business meeting.

But it doesn’t stop there, she’ll get you anything just to keep you happy. Any nerdy interest you have, or food you’ve always wanted to try. She’s a generous woman with her money, but only for you.

And hey…maybe she does expect a little sugar in return, but it’s not like you’re complaining. When she’s deep in your cunt, strap pounding away as she groans, buying one that stimulates her clit the more she thrusts into you.

Definitely the type to coo at you “awe baby, you bein’ good for me? For your sugar daddy? Gonna give me some sugar so I keep spoilin’ your fine ass?” while you’re gasping for air at how good she’s railing you.

Yeah she ain’t calling herself a sugar mommy, no no she’s your sugar daddy, and you know your place.

Hanzo:

Yeah he’s definitely into being a sugar daddy for you, especially while he was still part of the shimada clan.

He’s a busy man, and a busy man needs some stress relief. So having a pretty thing like you certainly helps those urges after a shitty day.

Kinda nonchalant about spoiling you, tossing you a wad of cash and demanding you to get something pretty to wear tonight, or to get your nails redone after one chipped off.

He doesn’t spend a lot of money, so he might as well spend it on you, if you’re good that is. Stay well behaved and don’t mouth off and you’ll get rewarded.

Always has a catch though. If he pays to get your nails done, he always wants a demonstration that night of how they look. Which almost always involves your pretty fingers wrapped around his dick, while he gets out a gruff “they look nice angel” as you pump him.

Or if he buys you a new car, so he tests how good you can drive it by fingering you while you drive around some backroads. After all, if he’s gonna buy you a pretty car, gotta make sure you won’t crash it and wreck it, right?

But hey if your pussy gushing around his skilled fingers means you have to stop the car, he can think of another way of proving you deserve the vehicle, which is how you’ll find yourself bent over the seats with his cock in your mouth.

The man is always buying you lingerie, because those are gonna be your permanent underwear now. Every time you undress, he expects to see one of the pretty sets he got you, so he can peel them off himself. Sometimes if you go to a formal event, his hand may go wandering up your dress to feel the material of your panties to make sure.

Definitely isn’t into being called a sugar daddy though (father issues and all that), so best stick to sir.

Sombra:

Another serial lingerie buyer. Loves hacking into your online wish lists to get you things, but lingerie is her fav. Yes she will be buying purple sets the same colour as her hair.

Also gonna buy you bodysuits too, lace ones with matching stockings and garters; all of it. She’ll leave it in a nicely packaged box on your bed (and mostly likely watch your reaction through the cameras she had you install in your house)

She’ll make you send her pictures and videos of you in the clothes she buys, will save it to her phone’s folder titled ‘my investment💜’. If she’s feeling in a particular mood, she’ll text you instructions on what she wants you do to in the videos, like how to touch yourself or what to say.

But she’s not shy about buying you anything that you want, or more importantly anything she thinks you need. This includes the best electronics on the market, phones, laptops, headphones, tablets, anything. All encrypted of course, the only person who should be able to hack into your stuff is her.

She might tease you by calling herself your sugar mommy, but not with a serious tone. She knows that you’re more to her than just a sugar baby. And she knows that it’s not just her money that keeps you around, you’re addicted to her.

And she proves it, by having you sit in the apartment she pays for, in your pretty purple lingerie she got you, bouncing up and down on a dildo she sent you, in front of your new phone as she watches from her computer set-up, a smirk on her face at how obedient you are. And hey, if her fingers find themselves on her aching clit, who’s gonna stop her?

Lifeweaver:

Nghhhhhh I’m going feral. You know this man has money, if his family's wealth is anything to go by. And he’s gonna be spoiling you to death.

Honestly it turns him on to buy you the finest things in life, especially if you aren’t used to such luxuries. Just watching your eyes light up at what he’s bought you, at what he knows you deserve, has his dick rock hard.

He’ll most likely get you jewellery the most, the finest he can of course. And he obviously takes note of your preferences; if you only wear silver, the silver it shall be, or if you only wear gold, that’s what you’ll have on your neck and fingers and ears.

If it’s a necklace he’s bought you, he’ll insist on putting it on for you. Securing it around your neck, he’ll lean in to press kisses along the back of you neck and shoulder, worshiping you. If he’s bought you a ring, he’ll kiss from your knuckle up your arm, spurred on by your giggles.

Nothing is too much for you, even if you’re too shy to ask for what you want. If he sees your eyes lingering on a particular bag or necklace or outfit, he’ll make a note to get it for you later.

Will insist you try everything on for him that night too, your pretty dresses and tops and skirts and leggings. Will have you do a twirl so his eyes can roam your entire form, before giving you the sweetest, most indulgent compliments.

And then you’ll probably find yourself sat on his plush bed in front of the mirror, as he’s on his knees eating you out like a man starved. Murmuring against mouthfuls of your cunt to look at how pretty you are in the mirror. Instructing you to repeat it, to tell him that you deserve the best things and that you’re the prettiest girl in the world as you gush on his tongue.

Definitely does not like the term sugar daddy, as it implies he’s only buying you things with the expectation of sex. But I mean, if you really want to call him daddy, he’d do anything to make you feel good.

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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"Lead is a neurotoxin; it causes premature deaths and lifelong negative effects. It’s said “there is no safe level of lead exposure” — as far as we know, any lead causes damage, and it just gets worse the more exposure there is.

After a 20-year, worldwide campaign, in 2021 Algeria became the final country to end leaded gasoline in cars — something the US phased out in 1996. That should make a huge difference to environmental lead levels. But lots of sources remain, from car batteries to ceramics...

Bangladesh phased out leaded gasoline in the 1990s. But high blood lead levels have remained. Why? When researchers Stephen Luby and Jenny Forsyth, doing work in rural Bangladesh, tried to isolate the source, it turned out to be a surprising one: lead-adulterated turmeric.

Turmeric, a spice in common use for cooking in South Asia and beyond, is yellow, and adding a pigment made of lead chromate makes for bright, vibrant colors — and better sales. Buyers of the adulterated turmeric were slowly being poisoned...

But there’s also good news: A recent paper studying lead in turmeric in Bangladesh found that researchers and the Bangladeshi government appear to have driven lead out of the turmeric business in Bangladesh.

How Bangladesh got serious about lead poisoning

The researchers who’d isolated turmeric as the primary cause of high blood lead levels —working for the nonprofit International Center for Diarrheal Disease Research, Bangladesh — went to meet with government officials. They collected samples nationwide and published a 2019 follow-up paper on the extent of the problem. Bangladesh’s Food Safety Authority got involved.

They settled on a two-part approach, starting with an education campaign to warn people about the dangers of lead. Once people had been warned that lead adulteration was illegal, they followed up with raids to analyze turmeric and fine sellers who were selling adulterated products.

They posted tens of thousands of fliers informing people about the risks of lead. They got coverage in the news. And then they swept through the markets with X-ray fluorescence analyzers, which detect lead. They seized contaminated products and fined sellers.

According to the study released earlier this month, this worked spectacularly well. “The proportion of market turmeric samples containing detectable lead decreased from 47 percent pre-intervention in 2019 to 0 percent in 2021,” the study found. And the vanishing of lead from turmeric had an immediate and dramatic effect on blood lead levels in the affected populations, too: “Blood lead levels dropped a median of 30 percent.”

The researchers who helped make that result happen are gearing up for similar campaigns in other areas where spices are adulterated.

The power of problem-solving

...When the Food Safety Authority showed up at the market and started issuing fines for lead adulteration, it stopped being a savvy business move to add lead. Purchasers who were accustomed to unnatural lead-colored turmeric learned how to recognize non-adulterated turmeric. And so lead went from ubiquitous to nearly nonexistent in the space of just a few years.

That’s a better world for everyone, from turmeric wholesalers to vulnerable kids — all purchased at a shockingly low price. The paper published this month concludes, “with credible information, appropriate technology, and good enough governance, the adulteration of spices can be stopped.”

There’s still a lot more to be done. India, like Bangladesh, has widespread adulteration of turmeric. And safety testing will have to remain vigilant to prevent lead in Bangladesh from creeping back into the spice supply.

But for all those caveats, it’s rare to see such fast, decisive action on a major health problem — and impressive to see it immediately rewarded with such a dramatic improvement in blood lead levels and health outcomes. It’s a reminder that things can change, and can change very quickly, as long as people care, and as long as they act."

-via Vox, September 20, 2023

#lead #lead poisoning #turmeric #bangladesh #south asian food #south asia #public health #public safety #government #good news #hope

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mentally-gone002 · 6 months ago

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secret escape

part 3! here is part 1 and part 2

summary: reader stays over at steve’s house… that’s it…

warnings: some 18+ activities😏, p in v (unprotected… PLS WRAP B4 YOU TAP), some swearing

a/n: OKAY SOOOOO FIRST TIME EVER WRITING SMUTTTT!!!!! (pls lmk if it sucks ass lmaoooo😭) but once again like in part 2, my wifey poo helped me through this entire fic and i’m so proud of her for all of this so once again a big thank you to her for making this possible!!!!

———————————————————————

“can you cover for me tonight?” dustin burst into his sisters room without a knock. she lurched forwards in surprise, griping the phone in her hand tightly.

“can i call you back?” she asked who she was calling before dropping the phone down onto the receiver. “don’t you know how to knock?” she asked in annoyance.

he rolled his eyes. “can you or not?” his question made her eyebrows furrow in confusion. he sighed and reminded her. “i need you to cover for me.”

she shook her head. “no, because i’m already going somewhere tonight.” dustin groaned in disbelief. “what would you need me to cover for you for anyway? it’s not like you have a girlfriend.” she wondered.

dustin looked away as he bit his tongue at the interrogation. “my friends want to go see dune, but ms. buyers won’t let will go, so we’re sneaking out to see it.” he explained quickly, checking over his shoulder a few times to make sure their mom wouldn’t overhear.

his sister scoffed and rolled her eyes. “sounds fun, but again, i can’t because i’m going out.”

“with who?” he inquired with arms crossed over his chest.

she looked away with an accompanied shrug. “tiffany, from school.” her reply was uttered without any eye contact which meant she was lying. “i’m staying at her house because i need girl time.”

dustin nodded with a blank stare. he hummed before saying, “sure, tiffany.” he didn’t buy any of what she said. “does tiffany know she’ll be covering for you? because i know you’re going see steve.”

she stared at him with wide eyes. “am not! also why can’t you just go see dune tomorrow night?”

“you so are going to see him!” dustin countered, walking closer to try and boost his chances of making her cave. he knew she was easily intimidated, he just didn’t know if he could intimidate her. “and we can’t go see dune tomorrow night because tonight’s the last night it’s playing.”

she rolled her eyes in exhaustion. “dustin… i’m sorry but i can’t cover for you.” she murmured while her hands ran over her face as an attempt on wiping away her annoyance.

her brother kept standing there for a few seconds, his mind was racing for a new angle on this. “i’ll tell mom you were making out with steve in his car when you went to the arcade with me last week!”

her eyes snapped open. “no you won’t!” she stood up, feeling herself get angry, and nervous. he wouldn’t tell their mom, would he? “that’s blackmail.” she told him.

he nodded. “i’m aware. and i will tell her if you don’t do this for me.” he said.

“tell me what?” their mom stepped into the doorway of her bedroom and looked between both her kids, making their bickering come to an abrupt ending followed by tense and awkward silence. she raised her eyebrows as if to say “well?”

“nothing!” dustin blurted at the same time his sister said, “i’m dating steve harrington!”

their mom looked shocked from their mingled voices.

she looked at her daughter first. “did you say you’re dating steve harrington?” she asked. her daughter nodded with fleeting eye contact. she swallowed the lump in her throat and her mom turned to dustin. “can you give us a minute?”

he nodded and quickly left the room but didn’t go far. he stopped after rounding the corner outside his sisters room and stood against the wall, listening.

when her mom looked at her she just word vomited. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you when we first got together! i just remember telling you about how he wasn’t the best guy last year and the year before that, and i just didn’t want you to worry. but he’s changed, mom, he really has.” she felt like crying but resisted, blinking hard to suppress tears that dared to fall. “he’s a really amazing guy.”

her mom walked to take a seat beside her daughter. “i don’t doubt that, hun.” she comforted, a hand on her daughters back. “i have to hear dustin talk about how great he is at least twice a week.”

she laughed and looked at her mom. “he does talk about him a lot.” her eyes went back to the floor. “are you okay with me being with him?”

her mom nodded. “of course i am, as long as you’re being safe and not doing anything crazy with him.”

“i’m safe and i’m not being crazy, i promise.” she told her mom sincerely, although she wasn’t sure she could keep her promise since her friends and even her own safety was threatened only two months before.

her mom stood up with a smile and walked to the door. dustin ran down the hall when he heard her approaching his position. “you’re still going to tiffany’s house tonight, right?” she wondered.

her daughter nodded. “yeah. can i take your car since you’re off work tomorrow?” she asked, hoping she’d say yes.

“yeah, i don’t see why not. just don’t crash.” she agreed.

“okay i won’t.” she nodded, standing up to grab the bag she had packed for herself. she left her bedroom and put on her shoes and found the car keys. “i’ll be back tomorrow… afternoon.” she said before walking out the door and to the car.

she wasn’t going to tiffany’s house. of course dustin had known that but he didn’t even say anything as he watched her leave the house.

she zoned out as she drove, using muscle memory to get to steve’s house. when she parked her heart started beating quickly at the thought of being completely alone for an entire night with her boyfriend. she bit her bottom lip before she left the safety of her car to walk to his front door and knock, waiting for the door to open. she rocked on her heels in anticipation.

when steve heard a knock on the door he immediately went to open it, letting his eyes fall over her in an instant. he memorized her for the millionth time with a soft grin on his mouth. “hey.” he leaned against the door, walking it open wider so she could go inside.

it was the first time she’s ever been inside his house so her eyes were wandering over this and that; family photos hanging on the white walls, fancy furniture and the shiny hardwood floors that stretched down the hall.

“wow.” she muttered, drawing an airy laugh from his mouth. “your house is really nice.” she looked at him with a smile.

he closed the door and walked to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “you think so?” he wondered. he was so close to her that his soft lips ghosted her temple when he spoke. she nodded as goosebumps rose on her skin and her heartbeat began to speed up due to how close he was to her, and how his soft breath felt against her skin and because of the way his hand would gently squeeze at her waist subconsciously.

her body turned slowly to face his, so close that if she inhaled enough air both of their chests would touch. she moved her hands, sliding them up his arms until they both stopped on his shoulders, giving her some leverage as she stood on tiptoes to press her lips to his.

both of steve’s hands found purchase on her waist, his fingers occasionally digging into her skin gently due to how their lips danced together, slipping over each other with mixed saliva. he fought off the ever impending urge to sweep her off her feet and take her to his room, being mindful of how she might not want to even if she showed she did sometimes with the way she squeezed the thighs together or got so close he didn’t even know where she started and where he ended.

she pulled back for a brief second, just to gasp for air that her aching lungs had been screaming for. he was too addicting to pull away from sometimes. she noticed how swollen and kiss bitten his reddening lips were when she fluttered her eyes open. he kept his eyes closed, chest heaving and his hands slid down to her hips and squeezed at her skin once they stopped to settle. she felt her breath hitch and decided to capture his lips again, distracting herself from his touch with even more of him.

he smiled into her mouth, deciding to slowly swipe his tongue over her bottom lip. he was almost begging to taste her with his heart racing and his mind wandering to places it shouldn’t.

how does it feel to have all of her?

the thoughts were chased away when she granted him access past her soft lips.

she gasped slightly when she felt his tongue against her, sliding together and twisting as they kept kissing. she couldn’t help but let a soft moan slip into the air.

he pulled away, allowing her to breathe. she stared up at his eyes with an almost pleading expression. he smiled gently, moving one hand to caress her face. “c’mon.” he nodded his head to the side towards the carpeted stairs that took them upstairs when he started to lead her up to the second story. her hand squeezed his while she looked around at more pictures on the walls until he pulled her into a bedroom at the end of the hallway. his thumb twisted the lock even though his parents weren’t home. once the lock clicked he strayed away from her side, walking quickly to his dresser and placing a cassette tape into a radio to make music start playing softly. she grinned when he came back to her, his hands back to make her feel whole. he used one hand to bring her lips back to his while the other slowly moved under her shirt. she sighed into the feeling of his warm hand trailing over her bare skin and he smiled, deepening the kiss to let their tongues dance like they were minutes ago.

she glided her hands up his chest over his shirt to fist the fabric of the collar with a tight grip. she whimpered when he toyed with the bottom of her bra. she felt impatient and he could feel it emanating off of her, so he took advantage of that feeling and walked them both blindly to his mattress.

“is this okay?” steve whispered, pulling away to which she chased his lips desperately. he smiled at her while sliding a hand over her thigh. her breath was shaking because she was either nervous or excited. he didn’t know which and found her eyes with his. “hey, are you okay?” the question was gentle.

she nodded, somehow still breathless. “yeah, i’m okay.” she nodded with a smile. she looked like she was drunk just because of his mouth. “i- i want to…” she trailed off meekly with shy eyes.

steve felt his pants tighten when she said that. he slid his hand further up her thigh and squeezed, loving how her clothed skin felt in his palm. “okay.” he whispered, finding her lips again.

she sighed into his mouth and let her mind go blank. her hands moved on their own to tangle and tug at his hair and ruin its style into a beautiful mess.

steve slowly moved his hands to have them grip the bottom of her shirt prior to lifting it up and over her head, which they have to separate for. he tossed the item of clothing aside somewhere far away from them to worry about later. his eyes were glued to her uncovered skin and how it looked in his dim bedroom. “you’re beautiful.” he breathed.

she rolled her eyes and he started to remove his own shirt, so that she wasn’t the only one lacking a clothing item. when it was off of him she tossed it away like he had with hers. she stared at his chest. his skin was littered with tiny constellations of freckles that she found so pretty on him. she reached out to touch his warm chest as he began moving closer to her with the slow motion of laying her on her back, loving how she looked like an angel against his sheets.

she kept her eyes on his chest and her hand on his skin snaked around his back.

steve leaned down, hands holding him up on either side of her head as he attached his lips to her neck to leave slow, open mouthed kisses across her hot skin. the action drew a sudden moan from her unoccupied lips. he smiled because he hasn’t even gotten started. steve pressed his tongue to her skin before closing his lips around a patch of it, pulling it into his mouth to turn it a deep shade of purple and red.

the action had her back arch away from the mattress slightly with stuttering breaths and a series of whimpers. she tried to press her thighs together to gain some friction where she found the familiar feeling of her core dampening but her legs were stopped by steve’s knee that was between them without her even knowing. he grinned at the way she sighed due to the lack of friction and moved his knee to press against her cunt. she whimpered at the feeling of something finally being between her legs. her hips jutted upwards against his thigh slightly, creating friction.

he pulled his mouth away from her skin and admired the dark bruise he’d left behind. one of his hands left the spot it occupied beside her head to toy with the trap of her bra. “can i take this off?” he hooked his fingers underneath the strap on her shoulder and then let it snap back onto her skin, making her flinch with a nod. “sit up for me, baby.” steve gently whispered so that he could snake his hand behind her and quickly unclip the garment with one hand.

it loosened around her shoulders so she turned her shoulders inwards to allow the straps to slip down her arms and have it completely fall away from her. she suddenly felt very exposed as steve stole the item away to toss it away, his eyes glued to her chest with lust in his eyes. she took his face in her hands so that she could connect their lips again, her tongue quickly slipping into his mouth. she pulled him down as she laid back onto her back as steve’s hands wandered, over her waist and then slowly taking a handful of her chest, squeezing her tit in a way that had her gasping in surprise. she wasn’t expecting it to feel that good.

he chuckled, mouth gently leaving hers to connect back on her neck. he left hot kisses on her skin and sucked the occasional bruise into her skin just to evoke those pretty sounds from her that he was starting to become addicted to hearing. he kissed lower, to her chest, giving her tits some attention because that was also so pretty to him. he was falling for every single part of her without a second thought.

her head lifted away from the pillow to stare at steve as he ever so slowly kissed lower and lower, nearing the top hem of her jeans. she tried to breathe but the air got stuck when he ultimately settled between her legs.

“breathe, baby.” he rubbed her thigh with a hand circling around it. she inhaled deeply and exhaled to make him smile and place a kiss just below her navel. “good girl.” he whispered. steve slowly moved his fingers against her jeans, unbuttoning and sliding them down and off her legs. she was now only in her underwear, a sight that he wanted tattooed on the inside of his eyelids forever while he settled back between her thighs. his lips pressed into the insides of both. his hips slowly ground into the mattress as he was becoming more conscious of the strain in his jeans by the minute. he groaned because they felt like a cage to him and if he were still like how he was a year ago they wouldn’t be on, but she’s different and he was doing this for her, not himself.

she reached down to grab his shoulders in a silent way of telling him to come back up to kiss her. and who was he to deny her of what she wanted? he slowly crawled his way back up to her lips, kissing up her tummy and making her breath shake. she felt deprived of his lips until they were back on hers, a messy thing that made them both moan and sigh into each other.

“i want you…” she sighed with half lidded eyes and a kiss bitten smile. she was so beautiful with the way her curly hair was fanned out on his pillow and how her body was hot to the touch. she’d tell him it was all his work if he were to ask her why.

he nodded for a second with one of his hands going between their warm bodies to begin with stripping away the last of his layers. relief washed over his body the moment his jeans slid off of his dick. he shuddered at the thought of being inside her. steve put a hand over her hip, smoothing his fingers over her soft skin as his thumb hooked under the elastic of her underwear. “is it okay if i take these off?” the way he whispered such a simple question made her body resonate with need. she nodded as her eyes stayed on his face. he grinned at the way her hands were repeatedly fisting and then releasing the sheets as a way to distract herself. that simple thing she was doing made him a little needier. his fingers slowly dragged her underwear away and down her legs, teasing her by the speed of it. he made her squirm in anticipation. “you’re so needy, baby.” he kissed her slowly to take her mind away from how his hand slid up the top of her thigh and that both of his legs were between hers, nudging her thighs wider for him.

he focuses his eyes back to her face, seeing how she breathed deeply and had her eyes closed. “hey, you sure you wanna do this? we can stop if you need to.” his voice was gently laced with concern for her that she thought she could cry because of the sound.

she nodded her head still. “i’m sure.” he nodded back, both hands placed on either side of her head, the insides of his wrists brushing the tops of her bare shoulders. she lifted her hands to thread her fingers through his soft hair and pull his lips down onto hers.

he stayed hovering over her with his lips glued to hers before he took one hand between them again to stroke his length and line it up with her entrance. “are you ready?” he asked ghosting his lips over hers as she panted, trying to catch her breath before he steals it away again. she nodded with her bottom lip held between her teeth.

he kissed the corner of her mouth as he pushed into her and his head dropped into the curve of her shoulder. he couldn’t help but moan into her soft skin at the feeling of her cunt squeezing around him. “fuck… you feel so good.” he groaned, leaving a kiss beneath her ear.

she gasped when she felt him finally go inside of her. her throat bubbled with airy moans that filled the room as he made slow thrusts in and out of her. she’d never felt like this in her life; head leaning back into soft pillows with her eyes screwed shut with a strange feeling tightening inside her stomach, like a coil. “steve… feels so good.” she slurred and her arms went around his shoulders so that her fingernails could dig into the soft skin of his back.

he kept his face buried in the curve of her neck, kissing and sucking at her skin as a way of drawing more sounds from her pretty mouth. “y’like this, baby? do i make you feel good?” he asked through a moan, slowly rolling his hips into hers repeatedly. she only nodded with a sigh. he grinned through a groan, knowing he made her feel good by her writhing body beneath his and the beautiful sounds she was making. they would mix with his own sounds of pleasure and bounce off of the walls.

she arched her back when the tightening cord in her stomach began to become almost too taught to bare. “i’m…” she moaned loudly. “i’m gonna come.” her voice was pitched up in pleasure. her nails were digging into his skin harder than they were before.

steve sped up his thrusts, knowing he was close behind her. “come for me.” he panted. “i’ve got you, honey.” he assured with a voice so sweet it made her cry out.

the cord in her stomach snapped, making her fall over the edge, coming around him with a scream.

steve followed right behind her, hips stuttering as he quickly pulled out with a pained groan to be loosing the amazing feeling of her walls around him. he was loud when he came, shooting ropes of it over her stomach with soft gasps for breath as he searched for her lips. he kissed her once before moving to lay beside her on his stomach. steve had his eyes on her as she breathed heavily, laying on her back motionless. “you okay?” he whispered, propping himself up on an elbow.

her head turned towards him so their eyes could meet. she nodded. “yeah. that was… amazing.” she sighed in ecstasy, causing a smile to form on his lips.

———————————————————————

“you okay to drive yourself home?” steve asked in the front doorway, standing with his hands on her hips. she nodded with a lovesick smile. he leaned down to kiss her. when he was pulling away his eyes caught how her shirt wasn’t covering one of the many hickeys he’d left for her. he moved the fabric over it. “i’ll see you later, yeah?”

she nodded. “yeah, of course.” her lips met his for a final time before she turned on her heels to walk away from the door.

steve lingered in the doorway, biting his lip. “baby?” he called after her when she was almost to her car. she looked at him with an innocent smile. “i… i love you.” he told her with his heart beating in his ears. he was nervous as she stood still for a second.

her heart was beating too fast for her to handle so she stood still and waiting for it to calm down before her legs carried her towards him and into his arms. “i love you.” she whispered with her ear to his chest and her arms around his waist.

he kissed the top of her head with the most adoring grin across his mouth.

they were in love.

#steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut

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