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prettyfastcars · 7 months ago

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the way you bend, the way you break - part 2 | Mob!Lando

Read part 1 here

Summary: Lando finally has all that he wanted, all that belonged to him in the first place. But there’s always room for trouble, even in paradise. And it’s up to him to fix it all and do whatever it takes to make sure that if he can’t have you then… no one can.

Themes: pregnant!reader, mob!lando, fluff, slight angst, smut, very mild gun kink, gaslighting, dark!lando, possessive!lando

a/n: come get y’all juice [throws this fic at you and runs away]

He woke up to something warm pressing into the side of his body.

Snuggled up to him, so close like you were trying to find a way to hide under his skin. He smiled when he looked down and found you asleep, wrapped in your blanket and still seeking his warmth.

He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, leaning into you as much as he could. He couldn’t exactly press his body completely against yours anymore because the bump got in the way.

It had been two months since you two had left that mansion and that little town. And your bump was properly visible now.

Speaking of the bump… He couldn’t resist shifting down to kiss it. “Morning, little one.” He whispered against it. The warmth of your skin was comforting so he nuzzled it and sighed. “Daddy can’t wait to meet you.”

Then he felt gentle fingers running through his hair. He gave your bump one last kiss before he looked up and found you smiling down at him.

“Hi,” You whispered, playing with his ridiculously soft, curly hair.

“Morning, mama.” He reached up and kissed your face until you giggled and told him to back off because his stubble hurt. “Oh it hurts?” He kissed his way down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, caressing you through the satin PJ set you wore before he began unbuttoning the shirt and lowering the shorts.

He kissed his way down until he settled in between your legs, your body was still warm – hot rather – from being under the blanket and he couldn’t get enough. His fingers dug into the softness of your thighs as he parted them, bringing his mouth closer to where he desperately wanted to be.

Kissing you through the thin excuse of an underwear you had on, he asked, “Is it still hurting?” He purposely let his stubble rub against your inner thighs, making you whine and moan as you squirmed under him. “Doesn’t look like it’s hurting.” He teased.

Your fingers found their way into his hair and you tugged on it to shut him up. He smirked as he went along, letting you guide his mouth to where you wanted him. He licked, and sucked and teased until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you wide open for his mouth and preventing you from moving as he pinned your hips and legs down on the bed as he ate you out.

This. This right here was his dream. Waking up next to his woman and then rolling over to taste her like she was there only for him to taste. Lando only smiled against your wet folds the louder your moans got. These peaceful mornings were what he lived for.

But not everyday these past few months have been this peaceful. He still remembered the couple of days following the plane ride here…

When you woke up on the plane, you immediately started panicking.

“Baby, it’s okay. We’re just–,”

“You had no right.” Were the first words you said to him.

And it pissed him off. “Oh I didn’t? You’re mine, I have every right to do what I think is good for you. And our baby.”

And then you argued. Big time. You said just the right things to make him mad and he acted like the overbearing, possessive man he was. The only way to get you to listen to him was to bend you over the nearest surface, in this case the bathroom sink, and fuck some sense into you.

“You belong to me.” He murmured, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Your mind was a foggy mess as he started rocking into you, making your front bump against the counter each time he fucked into you. “Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.”

“I hate you so much right now…” you whispered, even as your walls clenched around him, unable to hide just how much you wanted him.

His thrusts were animalistic, and rough. “I didn’t hear you.” He taunted, pulling his face away. His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and tugged on it, tipping your head back so you could see your reflections in the mirror. “I said tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded menacing as he stared deep into your eyes through the mirror.

You hated him. You hated how good he looked with that look on his face. His lips parted as his hips moved, burying his cock into you each time. You hated how good it felt to be bent over in front of him, all for him to use.

You whimpered as he pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you. “I… I’m yours,” You whispered, gritting your teeth, losing this round. But vowing to not forgive him easily.

You continued watching him through the mirror. He looked absolutely, devilishly handsome with his head thrown back, veins on his muscular neck prominent, eyes closed, his lips parted as groans escaped his lips. With that frown of pleasure he always had whenever he fucked you.

“You better remember that, baby.” He growled. “You are mine. I love you, and I know how to care for you. So don’t fucking tell me what to do when it comes to you and our kid. You hear me?”

You nodded despite the death stare you sent his way, moaning as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer.

And when your walls clenched violently around him.

“You’re gonna cum for me, mama? Hmm?” He cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire.

Seeing you didn’t reply, he tilted your head to the side a little. You couldn’t see his reflection anymore, not as he leaned in to kiss your parted lips before pulling away a few inches to spit into your mouth, then leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again. You moaned wantonly as he did, for a moment you forgot all about your anger.

“Come for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered. He felt agonisingly good. It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him as you came, hard.

He did too, right after you. “All fucking mine.” His warm load shooting inside you, as your body shook against the counter. He gathered you up in his arms again, kissing you as your body shivered and trembled. “I love you. I’m doing this for us, baby.”

After you landed, he drove you to another one of his houses – though he called this one his main house – which was equally as grand as the one you used to work in. Once he showed you to your shared bedroom, you went straight for a nice, warm, long shower.

And after that, you didn’t speak to Lando for two whole weeks.

He tried everything. Sulked, apologised, begged, tried to buy you ridiculous things, begged some more. And it took two weeks of severe grovelling for you to finally accept his apology.

He was glad you didn’t stay mad for too long. Although those two weeks of silent treatment from you hurt even more than the time he’d been shot twice during a crossfire.

But he had you now, under him and squirming, moaning in pleasure just how he liked it. And this was perfect. His tongue didn’t stop teasing you until you were properly spent, grinding your hips against his mouth as you calmed down after a gentle, but intense orgasm.

He kissed along your inner thighs, which were still trembling. But then he groaned in annoyance when he looked up and couldn’t see you because of the bump. “Kid’s getting in the way already,” He murmured, kissing his way back up. “I can’t even see your face when I’m down there now.”

You giggled at the tone he used. “And whose fault is that?”

He nuzzled your neck again, kissing it as he held you against him. “I love you.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s time to get some breakfast in you, mama. Let’s go.”

You sighed in bliss, savouring one last moment in bed with him before you got out of bed and went through your morning routine while he made his way downstairs. This had become a new part of your routine now – him making breakfast each morning.

You shook your head as you showered. You couldn’t believe this was your life now. New home, new place, new doctors, new staff members who waited on you at all times during the day. You had everything one could want. People all around the house who were ready to bring you whatever you wanted. Multiple cars with chauffeurs ready to take you wherever you wanted.

Anywhere you wanted, you thought, but not to your hometown.

Lando didn’t like it when you even mentioned the little town you’d just left. It didn’t have much to offer, but it was still where you were born and raised. You didn’t miss it enough to want to go back and live there. No. But you did miss it enough to want to know how everyone was doing back home.

Your friends and family.

You’d tried bringing it up just a few weeks ago…

“Maybe I should go back once.”

“What for?” He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you, kissing your forehead as you both stood on the balcony just outside your bedroom, watching the sun rise.

“Just to say goodbye properly. I… maybe they’d understand why–,”

His arms tightened around you before he reached up to cup your face in his large, warm hands. “They won’t.” The finality in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “If they wanted to talk to you they would’ve reached out by now, don’t you think?”

Lando knew full well that he was leaving out the part where he threatened your friends and family to never reach out to you if they wanted to keep their heads on their shoulders. He had people watching them at all times. He wasn’t taking any risks. You were his now, and no one was gonna take you away from him.

That ended that conversation. And you never brought it up again.

You did think about it even now as you got ready for the day before making your way downstairs. Maybe, you thought, you could check up on them without physically going there.

–

A couple of days later, Lando came home after a particularly annoying day and all he wanted was a soothing hug from you, a couple of kisses, and maybe you’d let him bury his face between your thighs again.

But he walked into the house and immediately, he could tell something was wrong. The guards were all in their places, armed as usual. So that calmed him down a little. Yet, a gut feeling told him something wasn’t right.

As he made his way up the stairs, he took his phone out and checked the security cameras. Everything was fine outside, the guards walked around on alert as per usual. Then he checked the cams inside his home, trying to find you. And he frowned as he saw you in the corner of his library, typing furiously on the keyboard as your eyes remained glued to the screen of his computer.

Weird. It was rather late, you should’ve been in bed. He tried zooming in to see what was displayed on the screen but he couldn’t see it. Damn. He should get new, better cameras.

But without wasting any more time, and seeking to soothe that feeling in his gut, he rushed towards the library. And his heart sank as he kept an eye on the security cam footage while he approached the library.

He watched how you visibly tensed up the moment he was sure you could hear his footsteps approaching. He watched how you clicked around in panic, typing even faster the closer he got to the library doors.

He put his phone back in his pocket the moment he pushed the doors open and stepped into the room, finding you at his desk. The screen illuminated only your face while the rest of the room remained fairly dark.

“Hi!” You said, sounding a little too cheerful. Sounding fake. Fake smile, fake happiness upon seeing him when he knew damn well you were just frowning right before he walked into the room.

He hated it. The mask you put on just to make everything seem normal. He clenched his jaw before he asked, as calmly as he could, “What are you doing? It’s late, baby. Let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah,” You gathered the blanket you had wrapped around you. “I was just looking into colour palettes. For the nursery, remember?”

He nodded slowly, watching how you didn’t move from the desk. “Right now, though? It’s the middle of the night. And why were you in the dark?” Like you were doing something you shouldn’t.

He noticed how you tensed up the moment he began walking towards you. He watched how you tried to discreetly move your hands towards the touchpad again. But he was quicker.

And it only took him a moment to lean down so he could see properly, understand, and process what you’d been doing, or what you were about to do. He looked away from the screen and looked down at you. You avoided his eyes and that only pissed him off even more.

“Care to explain this, mama?”

Something shifted then. His tone, his demeanour, his presence – all of it getting darker.

You looked away, sighing in defeat. “I just wanted to know.” There was no point in trying to hide that you’d been secretly emailing a friend of yours from back home. There weren’t too many emails exchanged, only a couple going back to a few days prior where you asked about the wellbeing of your parents and other friends.

You didn’t risk texting because… that would be too easy for him to find. You couldn’t call either, he would know because his loyal guards watched each move of yours. So emails it was. You’d delete them each time. But this time it seemed you’d been caught before you could.

“You couldn’t trust me?” He asked. Part of him was relieved that your friend had told you that all was well back there. This meant that your family was behaving like he wanted.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” He grabbed the back of the chair and slowly turned it so you’d have no choice but face him. “Why’d you go behind my back like this? And why lie to me?”

You looked up at him. Piercing eyes staring down at you as the computer screen illuminated only half of his face. His hands remained on the back of the chair so he was closer now. His scent drove you insane. Damn hormones! Lately all you ever wanted to do was be close to him. His scent… it did things to you. This was unfair.

“I just wanted to confirm that–,”

“Why not just trust me?”

You couldn’t help but say, “Trust you? After you kidnapped me and told me my family didn’t want anything to do with me? I’m supposed to just trust you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that but there was no going back now.

“Kidnapped?” Lando scoffed. “Bringing you home where you belong isn’t kidnapping.”

You sighed again. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be here with you, Lando. But I needed to make sure all was well at home.”

“And is it?”

You nodded sheepishly, looking up at him to find him clenching his jaw in that way that made you think of sinful things.

Thank fuck, he thought, that your friend kept her mouth shut and didn’t give you any details about just how well things were at home. How your family and friends constantly had his men around them, keeping watch and notifying him of each of their moves. At this point, Lando knew exactly how many times your family went grocery shopping or to the park. He had his people keeping eyes on them at home, at work, following their cars – there was nothing he didn’t know about.

“Am I not enough for you?” He asked, standing up straight so he could look more menacing as he stared down at you still sitting in front of him.

Only his stance just made your body throb even more. He looked godly from this angle. Like some dark, tortured, tragic hero in his all black suit which fit him like a second skin. That metal chain hanging from his neck. His pretty eyes on you. You had to take a deep breath and shoo away all the filthy images that filled your head.

You rolled your eyes at his question. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” He scoffed. “You’re reaching out to your friends, talking to people behind my back, then lying to me about it and I’m supposed to just what, do nothing?” He accused. “For now it’s emails, what if in the future some day you decide you want to leave me? Will you expect me to just stand there, not be dramatic, and do nothing?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to stand up but he carefully pushed you back down on the chair. Leaning down so he was staring into your eyes, he said, “Do you want to leave me, mama? Is that what’s going on here?”

“You’re blowing this out of pro–,”

He cut you off by pulling his shiny, silver gun out and placing it gently on the desk. Right where you both could clearly see. Within arms’ length, but definitely closer to you.

His voice dropped as he leaned closer, lips bruising against your cheek as he ignored your side of the argument and said, “If you are thinking of running then you better use this and make sure I’m no longer breathing before you do.” He pulled away to look at you. The proximity, the danger in the air, the inevitable tension, it made you breathless. “Because if you run, I will chase.” He whispered, “And you won’t like what I do to you when I catch you.”

Your heart was pounding, mind racing and the filthiest of outcomes flooding your brain. Still you asked, “You think I would hurt you?”

He smirked and he’d never looked more unhinged than he did in that moment. It scared you, about just as much as it excited you. He glanced down at his gun. “Not worth living if I can’t have you anyway.” He whispered.

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head, finally reaching out to hold his face in your hands. “I need you. We need you.”

That made him look down at your bump, partially visible now since your little PJ top didn’t cover all of it. He dropped to kneel in front of you, bending to kiss the bump again like he always does.

“I’m sorry, little one,” He whispered, nuzzling the warmth of your skin. “Daddy has to be mean to mama for a bit. She’s being difficult, you see?” Then he looked up at you and said, “I don’t wanna fight.”

“Neither do I.” You stood up this time, taking a few steps just to put some distance between you and him so you could think straight and take a deep breath. “I just don’t understand why the thought of me being connected to what used to be my home bothers you so much.”

He slowly turned to the desk and grabbed his gun. None of that scared you. You were safe with him, you were certain of that. So you watched him. Watched how he slowly turned to you and said, “Because there’s the possibility of you leaving me and going back there.”

You sighed in frustration. “There’s always going to be the possibility for every single thing. That’s how life works! So what, you’ll wipe the entire town out of existence? Burn it to the ground? Turn it to nothing but ash? All so I won’t even have a home to go back to if I ever leave you?”

He gave you that same unhinged smirk from earlier. Then said, “Don’t tempt me.”

“Lando.” You warned.

“What?”

“What the fuck do you want, huh?”

He moved.

He walked towards you and for each step he took, you took one back. Until your back met with one of the book shelves and he was right in front of you. “I’m getting tired of this conversation.”

You spat back, “I’m getting tired of your face.” You lied.

He chuckled, then looked down at the bump between you two, caressing it as he said, “You hear that, little one? Mama’s being a brat.” He looked up at you and said, his voice deeper now, “But don’t you worry, daddy will deal with it.”

It all happened too quickly. Him getting your clothes off, kissing you to distract you as he walked the two of you over to the nearest couch. You bit his lower lip in annoyance till you almost drew blood, and he just chuckled before kissing you even deeper as he carefully pushed you down on the couch, hovering over you supporting himself with one hand while the other one held his gun right above your face.

“You’re being difficult again, baby.” He murmured, gently lowering his gun and brushing the barrel against your lips, then slowly dragged it down your chin. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He dragged the tip of his gun all the way down your trembling, naked body, down your thighs and back up till he pressed it against your wet folds. He chuckled when he saw you grinding against it. “Does it feel good? Hmm?” He asked. “Does it make you feel all powerful knowing you piss me off more than anyone ever dares to and can get away with it? All because I love you too much to actually punish you? Does it, baby?”

You frowned at him, still annoyed. “Shut the fuck up.” You didn’t stop grinding against the cold gun. You whined when he pulled it away from your skin and tossed it to the side.

He had a mean smirk on his face, calm despite everything. You studied his handsome face for a moment. Your emotions were shifting from guilt to annoyance to lust, and your heart fluttered when he whispered, “Spread those legs for me. Show me what’s mine.”

The crude casualness of his words would’ve surely made you blush if you weren’t dripping wet and burning with desire. And regardless of how pompous you thought he was, how authoritative and overbearing – and no matter how annoyed you were – you did just as he asked.

You held his stare as you spread your legs so he could settle in between them. Lando eyed you with a mischievous smirk. “There’s my good girl. Now hold yourself open for me.” He said, then lowered his mouth, watching as you carefully spread your folds open for him. “Fuck…” He murmured as he kissed your knuckles.

You couldn’t see his face – because of the bump – but his warm breath against your fingers, your wet skin, the soft touch of his fingers as he spread your wetness around, followed by his tongue, all of it had you moaning as you arched your back, leaning into his mouth even more.

You could see his hips moving while he ate you out, grinding into the couch and for some reason that made you whine even louder. “Lando …” you whimpered.

He smirked against your inner thighs. “Don’t you dare come just yet.”

You whined, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. Lando smirked when he craned his neck and saw how you were struggling to keep quiet. He knew just how sensitive your body had become these days, how badly you craved his touch at all times. And right now, he noticed the way your body squirmed under him, and he knew you too well so he could tell that you were so close to coming.

“Baby… please,” You whined, releasing your swollen lip from your teeth. Your body felt hot, and you needed to just let go and come.

“Please what?” He taunted, shamelessly ignoring your pleas. “Is it frustrating? Wanting something so badly and having someone else just threatening to take it away? Hmm?” He slid his tongue up and down your slit, careful not to make you come and enjoying the way you growled through gritted teeth. “This is how it feels, baby. Everytime you argue and bring up that little town. The thought of you leaving me here and returning there…” He playfully bit your inner thigh. “This is exactly how it feels. Like I’m a fucking madman ready to do whatever it takes just to have what I want. Which is you next to me. Always.”

You let out a loud moan as he kissed your throbbing clit ever so gently. “I’m sorry,” You caught yourself whispering. “I’ll… I’ll let it go. I promise. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.” You lifted yourself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He looked up at you, with his lips more pink and fuller than usual. “I want to be here, right next to you. Always.” You promised.

He seemed proud of that. Nodding gently, he said, “See how easy that was, mama?” He kissed his way up your inner thighs again, “I love you.” He murmured, looking deep into your eyes as if daring you to not say it back.

You couldn’t resist him. “And I love you.” You melted right under his touch as his tongue gently licked down your folds.

His hand found yours and he laced his fingers with yours while his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh as he pushed his face further into your wet core, making you whimper in pleasure. Your legs had begun shaking just a little as he took his time and dragged his tongue up and down your slit, teasing your sensitive spots with his warm and wet tongue.

“Please…” You moaned pathetically.

Then heard his merciless chuckle as he pulled away, kissing his way up your body again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth eventually, making you gasp and moan. He quickly placed his fingers where his mouth had been earlier, teasing your clit before shoving two fingers inside of you and stroking your walls so slowly that you were well past caring if the guards could hear you moaning.

He pulled away just for a moment, to quickly take his suit jacket off, then his shirt. He tossed both somewhere on the floor and bent down to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, leisurely taking his time as he unzipped his pants.

“Please,” You whined, sliding your fingers into his soft hair. “I need you. Now.” You spoke through gritted teeth by the end, tugging at the roots of his curly hair.

“So needy.” He murmured, loving it actually. It made his ego inflate knowing his woman needed him so badly. “I’m here, baby. “I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered as he lowered his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was rock hard this whole time. It was a fucking miracle he was able to even wait this long.

With a slow, steady push, he slid his cock into you. You shuddered, moaning as you felt all of him filling you up. Lando held back his moans and growls as he felt your warmth wrap around him so perfectly. He clenched his jaw as he relished the feeling of being inside of you, finally.

“This what you needed, mama?” he asked, looking down at you, and gently grabbing your face, making you look up at him.

You just stared at him with parted lips, breathing heavily. Lando smirked, pulling out just a little before pushing back into you again. You closed your eyes and moaned, arching your back, your bare chest pressing against his.

Lando leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth while he began moving in and out of you. You whined senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you.

He leaned down to push his face into your neck as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it to his waist, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Fuck…you’re mine, you hear me?”

You nodded.

“Only mine…” Lando quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before. “My woman,” He spoke, his voice thick and deep with lust. “Mine.” He stared down at you with a handsome and arrogant smirk on his face. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.” You repeated, eyes getting droopy with desire.

Lando caressed your cheek with his knuckles, his other hand holding him up above you. He looked down at you with nothing but love and fierce adoration in his eyes. “Come for me.”

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Lando kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even as you came.

You felt your second release approaching even before you could recover from the first one.

You felt your mind getting foggy again. His lean body hovering above you as he fucked deeper into you, as much as he could while still being careful not to hurt you – it was a new fear of his, that he would somehow hurt you during sex. “Come for me again, baby.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

Your body trembled as you came for the second time, walls tightening around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you until he came as well. “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked in a way that had you clenching even harder around him.

You were gasping for breath after that, and Lando twisted you both on your sides so you could rest for a while. He knew all too well that you had the habit of drifting off into deep sleep right after some good sex.

Kissing your forehead, he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll get us in bed in a while, okay?”

You nodded, burrowing deeper into his warm, muscular chest as you let yourself pass out in bliss.

—

You began snoring softly in no time, so he was in no rush to get you to move. He grabbed the blanket from before and made sure you were nice and warm before he carefully slid from under you and retrieved his phone from his trousers on the floor.

Letting the back of his hand gently caress your cheek, and bending down to kiss your bump one last time, Lando moved away from the couch and went towards the desk. Sitting down on the chair, he made a phone call while he kept an eye on what the screen displayed.

Those damned emails.

He smirked when he heard the person on the other end answer. He wasn’t calling to have a full conversation – not with you sleeping just a few feet away.

“You know what to do.” He ordered over the phone. Then ended the call once the person on the other side confirmed that they indeed knew what he was talking about.

He tossed his phone aside then closed the tabs on his computer. Deleting the emails before he did so. He scoffed, thinking about that damn little town which was being a pain – but not for long.

He walked back to where you were sleeping. Kneeling beside the couch, he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss your cheek. “My baby,” He murmured, letting his lips brush against your skin for a while longer. “I love you so much.” He couldn’t get enough of you. “I’m doing this for us.” He smiled, “You’ll understand one day. I’m just making sure that if ever I can’t have you, then no one can.”

—

a/n: hi!! I won’t be writing any more parts for this story. I’ve been loving fics with open endings lately so yeahhhh (there will be more mob fics tho don’t worry <3)

#lando norris #mob!lando #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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miirohs · 4 months ago

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no body, no crime [o.p.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways I’m continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition 💀

The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.

Oscar wasn’t home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.

You weren’t worried much about the call time, but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.

Whatever it was sounded important but he didn’t let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that he’d be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.

With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.

You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.

2:45 A.M. It read.

You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.

As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.

You didn’t see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasn’t just for nothing.

The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.

where are you rn? heard something outside, can’t see guards anywhere.

The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.

lmk when you’re on your way.

You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.

[Osc].

You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.

“Y/n? Is that you, baby?”

“Mmm, it is,” You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

“No, I thought i heard something,” You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, “And the guards aren’t here, they-”

“What do you mean not there?” You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid but…"

"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Don’t use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.

“What the…”

Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.

The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.

Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.

You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.

They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.

The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.

The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You’d stunned them, but you weren’t sure how long it’d last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.

Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.

The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.

That didn’t last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.

There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.

Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.

He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.

A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.

There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time you’d seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

You couldn’t really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.

You weren’t sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.

You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.

He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.

Both of you didn’t say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.

“Is she doing okay?” You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadn’t heard a peep in the hour he’d been there.

You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"

You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.

He didn’t complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Even when you didn’t answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.

“We’re going to increase security detail for you by the way. I won’t be leaving you on your own for a while…” He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. “Please talk to me, baby, I’m worried.”

You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to… I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."

Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. “No, you didn’t. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.”

“But then- then you’ll get in trouble,” You whispered, haunted by the thought, “they’ll arrest you.”

He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.

“Osc baby, what-“

“Whoever sent them,” He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasn’t at all the full gist of what he was feeling, “Started this trouble first. They can’t arrest me if there’s no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.”

You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.

“You’re…” You didn’t finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. “You’re strong, we all know that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, “Never when I’m here.”

512 notes · View notes

niningtori · 5 months ago

Text

cruel intentions | part one

part two out now!

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you live your life (un)comfortably in the shadow of your bright and beautiful best friend, chaeyoung. when campus heartthrob, beomgyu, takes an interest in you, you can't help but feel like it's just a way for him to get closer to your beloved best friend. in reality, his intentions are far crueler than that. or, beomgyu agrees to get with the campus' resident dark cloud in order to win a bet with his friend.

genre: romance, angst, campus life, clichés and melodrama (as per uje)

warnings: brief mentions of reader's abusive household, reader has almost comically low self esteem

word count: 7.8k

notes: hi... r u mad at me? i know i've been gone for a month or so and definitely have other projects i've promised to work on, but i've had a lot of personal stuff going on and couldn't focus on anything. i love this trope so much tho and couldn't stop myself from wanting to try my hand at it. i'm not expecting much from this seeing as how it's devoid of any suggestive content, but i figured it'd be better to post it so you all know i'm alive. if people want a part two, i will gladly make one since i really like this trope, but i do want to know if that's the case before i write anything. anyway, i think that's it. enjoy, my lovely friends :^)

you’re okay. you really, really are. you wouldn’t say you’re happy, per se, but things are alright as they are. there are worse things than living in the shadow of your bright and beautiful best friend, whom you love very, very much. chaeyoung is nothing if not dazzling, so much so that everyone falls flatly at her feet in the wake of one of her smiles. you are, as a matter of fact, no exception. chaeyoung has been like a savior from your unstable home life ever since middle school. she has stood up for you when you were too afraid to stand up for yourself and has become more like your family than your family ever was. even so, are you envious of the way that everything seems to go her way? you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t bother you at times, but it becomes more and more bearable every day. besides, you can’t blame her for it; she has no idea that you’re considered as little more than her sidekick and, for lack of a better term, a mob character in the colorful campus life you’ve grown to accept as not your cup of tea.

being chaeyoung’s best friend comes with “perks” such as invites to what would otherwise be completely exclusive parties you wouldn't even dream of being considered for, but you can’t count how many times you’ve been approached with the intent of getting closer to her, so you refrain from any such affairs and opt to focus on your studies and fulltime job. in the beginning, your feelings would be hurt when men you were interested in feigned mutual attraction in hopes that they’d get closer to chaeyoung, but you’ve come to accept things as they are and you’re now known for your flatout rejection of anyone who attempts to woo you.

these past few years, what with your heavy coursework, demanding job, and feelings of inferiority, have been grueling, to be sure, but you’re finally in your last semester and closing act of this entire charade you’ve come to call your college career. in a few months, you'll be a free woman and you’ll be able to begin your life as a fully fledged adult. chaeyoung will remain as your best friend, you know, but you won’t have to be compared to her every second since you two are set on very, very different career paths. life, as it is, feels so small and unvaried to the point of suffocation, but all of that will be over once you’ve entered the post-college workforce. or, at least, you hope it will.

heeseung is lovesick, to put things in the simplest of terms.

“i just don’t see why chaeyoung won’t give me a chance! i really, really like her,” he whines.

“i know,” beomgyu says with a roll of his eyes.

“so why can’t you help me out?” he pouts.

“what the hell am i supposed to do about it?” beomgyu asks with a hint of irritation.

“gyu, you sit next to her and her friend in class! put in a good word for me!” he pleads.

“she’s always talking to that girl, so it’s hard to even say two words to her. you know that.”

heeseung is, again, pouting, but the machinations in his head are firing in overtime as he searches for a solution. suddenly, his face alights as if he’s found the perfect plot. beomgyu’s wariness increases tenfold as he waits to hear whatever fucked up plan heeseung has put together.

“i know! what if you distract her friend so i can actually talk to her? and you can find out what type of guy chaeyoung likes.” he looks so earnest in this moment, but beomgyu cringes at the idea.

“dude, no. that’s fucked up,” he says.

“c’mon, i know you can do it!”

“well, yeah,” beomgyu nods in agreement, “but i’m not pretending to be interested in somebody just so you can fuck her friend. that’s wrong.”

“oh, please, gyu. we all know you’ve done worse.” he’s right. still, beomgyu vehemently disagrees. heeseung, in his desperation, can only think of one way to force him to give in: attack his pride.

“what, are you scared she won’t fall for it?” heeseung teases. “well, i can’t blame you. i heard people calling her the ‘iron maiden’ and that she won’t let anybody near her. why would she fall for you of all people?” beomgyu scoffs at his insolence.

“i could get her if i really wanted to,” he replies. “i just don’t feel like it.”

“sure, whatever. i know you’re just scared she’ll reject the ‘great beomgyu’ and you won’t be able to keep saying you’re the hottest guy on campus.” beomgyu actually rolls his eyes at this.

“i bet you i could get her to fall in love with me by the end of the semester if i really wanted her to,” beomgyu argues petulantly.

“prove it,” heeseung challenges with a raise of his eyebrows. now he’s got him.

“not for free,” beomgyu says with a smirk.

“... fine. what do you want?”

“i want you to pay my half of the rent for the rest of the school year.” heeseung whines in response, but he quickly makes the calculations in his head and decides it’s worth it when he takes into consideration how fucking hot chaeyoung is.

“deal.”

and so it begins.

beomgyu, like most people, hasn’t really paid much attention to you before now. he barely even has an idea of what you look like, to be perfectly honest, but he can immediately figure out who you are just by looking to chaeyoung’s side as she's walking through the classroom door and seeing who’s sticking there. he takes in your features as if he’s seeing you for the first time, and he kind of is, frankly speaking. you’re not nearly as pretty as chaeyoung, and you definitely lack the aura she has, but you’re not bad by any means. your clothes are ill-fitting and your entire demeanor is soaked with an air of exhaustion, but if he looks carefully, it’s not like you’re an eyesore or anything. still, he’s considerably better looking than you are. this should be easy.

“hey,” he says softly in his baritone voice when you slide into your usual seat next to his, chaeyoung sliding in on the other side of you. to his surprise, you say nothing in response.

“hey,” he tries again, a little louder, thinking you just didn’t hear him or something.

“oh. hey,” you say confusedly before turning back to look at chaeyoung and continuing your conversation with her. well, that’s not nothing, he guesses, but heeseung sends him a knowing, goading glance from his seat and beomgyu feels himself growing irritated.

when the professor enters, you turn to face her with a focused face and immediately pull out your pen to begin copying whatever she says down with solemnity.

beomgyu is staring so intently, he’s surprised you don’t feel his eyes boring into the side of your face, but you don’t seem to notice a thing. before long, your professor announces that there will be a final project that will require a partner. chaeyoung excitedly grabs your arm with a grin, to which you answer her with a soft smile of your own.

unluckily for the two of you, your giddiness is short-lived when she pairs chaeyoung with the person sitting on the other side of her, and you are stuck with the boy who randomly greeted you earlier.

“i’m glad we’re partners,” beomgyu says with a smile as soon as the professor is finished relaying the details of the project with the class.

“why?” you blink in confusion.

“‘cause you’re really smart, right? and cute, too,” he chuckles.

“oh, i guess,” you say flatly after a short pause. “when do you want to work on the project?” there is no wavering in your voice when you speak to him, and you look directly in his eyes, which is a far cry from the sweet, trembling voices and shy glances he’s used to. do you not find him attractive or something? no, that can’t be it. he’s everybody’s type.

“i’m free tomorrow after 5. do you want to come to my place?” you tense up, but he keeps pushing. “you know, so there are no distractions?” you’re wary, of course, but you see no hint of sinister ulterior motives. besides, he can’t possibly see you in an impure way, so you agree with a low hum.

“great. i’ll see you then.”

you arrive at his doorstep with your usual exhausted, haphazard look. some part of him thought you might try to doll yourself up to some extent, seeing as how you’re coming to the apartment of the hottest guy on campus and all, but he can sniff out no such effort. your hair is carelessly thrown up and your face is devoid of anything but the barest amount of makeup. your eyes are tired and there’s a permanent crease in your brows. still, he figures that complimenting you is worth a shot.

“hey, you look pretty today,” he says warmly. you do nothing but stare with a withering glance, but the grin never leaves his face.

“hi. where did you want to start?” you ask while following him to his living room and setting your bag on his couch. if he feels slighted by you ignoring his compliment, he doesn’t show it.

“i thought we could review the rubric first and go from there,” he shrugs.

“okay.”

he makes several attempts at small talk, but they go nowhere. you are laser focused on the project and don’t even hesitate to reject any and all advances from him to the point where he’s beginning to grow frustrated. maybe you aren’t called the iron maiden for nothing, but the prospect of having his rent paid for the rest of the year is enough to keep him from giving up. he decides he’ll try a different approach.

“do you want some coffee? you look tired,” he says gently. you’re actually surprised at his observation, and he can tell.

“yes, actually. thank you.”

when he finishes making your coffee, he hands you a mug and you thank him while sporting a shy, grateful smile. momentarily, he’s stunned. he’s never cared enough to look for your smiles, and even if he had, he’d never see them unless you were with chaeyoung, but he realizes you look infinitely prettier while wearing one.

“of course. if you don’t mind me asking, is there something wrong? you look really tired lately.”

“i-i’m just working overtime these days. th-thank you for noticing,” you sputter nervously. seriously? his feigned consideration of your personal circumstances is what makes you flustered? well, whatever. he can work with this.

“work is important, but your health is more important. don’t spread yourself too thin.” if your cheeks felt hot before, they’re scorching to the touch now.

“i… i’ll keep that in mind. thanks.”

he doesn't probe much more deeply than that for fear of scaring you away, but you seem to have opened up just a bit in light of his thoughtful words. when you two decide to wrap up for the night, he walks you to his doorway.

“thank you for tonight,” you mumble with another one of your rare smiles.

“you’re welcome,” he replies with a grin.

you’re about to walk through his doorway when you turn back suddenly. before he can ask about it, your next words come tumbling out.

“chaeyoung likes confident men, but not to the point where they’re obnoxious. she hates movie dates because she wants to talk too much during them, but she likes stargazing, preferably with a picnic, too. she won’t text first, but she’ll respond quickly if she likes you back.” he’s stunned into silence and tries to stutter out something to the effect of “i wasn't trying to get you to tell me about her”, but all you do is give a knowing stare and he realizes he’s been caught. you leave his apartment and he’s left reeling. so much for being discreet.

the next time he sees you, he knows he has to apologize, but it isn’t until you meet again for the project that he decides the timing is finally right.

you’re sitting on his couch, scrolling through your laptop as you proofread what you two have written so far when he musters up the courage to say something.

“listen,” he begins cautiously. you lazily look up at him and he tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

“i… i think i owe you an apology and an explanation. i’m sorry for making you feel like i was just being nice to you so you could tell me about chaeyoung, but i really have no interest in her, i swear.” well, he’s half lying and half telling the truth, but he means it when he says he couldn’t give less of a shit about her. he can’t say he wasn’t just being nice to you in order to get his rent paid, though.

you look confused for a moment, as if you don’t even know what he’s referencing, but realization dawns on your face as you finally remember what he’s talking about.

“oh, it’s okay. it doesn’t bother me, anyway,” you reply with a shrug.

“i’m serious,” he says firmly. “i really have no interest in her. to be honest, i’m interested in someone else at the moment.”

“oh,” you respond flatly, and you turn back to your laptop as if you’re bored and couldn’t care less about the most popular guy on campus actually having feelings for someone, for once. he snaps your laptop shut and you look up at him in surprise.

“i mean it. the person i actually want to get to know more about is you.”

your jaw drops in pure shock.

“m-me? why?” you say, as if you can’t possibly believe that anyone could take a genuine interest in you. for some reason, he feels a pang in his heart at your sheer incredulity. sure, you’re no chaeyoung, but it's not like someone liking you is so rare of an affair as to throw you off kilter like this, right?

“what’s wrong with me wanting to get to know a pretty girl like you?” you scoff and roll your eyes. you know you’re no trophy by any stretch of the imagination, so you have a hard time believing he means a single word.

“yeah, right,” you snort derisively. “the cutest guy on campus has a crush on me. you can’t honestly think i’d fall for that, can you? if you’re trying to flatter me to get me to do this entire project by myself, keep dreaming.” he’s surprised at your insistence. well, you’re not entirely incorrect. his intentions are impure if nothing else, but for some reason, he’s determined to prove you wrong.

“oh, so you think i’m the cutest guy on campus?” he teases with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. as if you didn’t realize you said those words yourself, you look more flustered than you’d care to admit.

“w-well, i —”

“i’ll take it. and no, i’m not trying to get you to carry our grade on this. i genuinely just want to get to know you better.” and he doesn't know how much of that sentiment he really means, but he does know it means more than it should.

after a few more meetups, you’re pretty much convinced that beomgyu truly has no interest in chaeyoung. he never asks about her, and even when you offhandedly comment on her, he never pushes to know more. he just hums in recognition or perfunctorily answers. as for believing that he sincerely has interest in you? you’re not sure you believe that, but when the project is finished within a week and he asks you out on a date, you can’t help but seriously consider this previously inconceivable thought.

“what did you say?!” chaeyoung asks excitedly once you relay that beomgyu, of all people, has asked you to go to dinner with him.

“i said i’d think about it,” you sigh.

“you should go! text him right now and tell him you’re going!”

“i don’t know, chae. you’ve heard the rumors about him. he’s a player…”

“who cares about the past?! i haven’t heard anything like that in a while. plus, it’s worth taking a chance, right? you haven’t been on a date in god knows how long. if you don’t text him, i will!” she exclaims. “gimme your phone, i’ll do it right the fuck now!”

“no!” you counter, clutching your phone to your chest protectively. “i… i’ll do it myself,” you mutter.

“that’s my girl,” she says with a sweet grin.

“i feel stupid,” you mumble as chaeyoung applies the finishing touches to your hair.

“well, you don’t look stupid, i’ll tell you that much. you’re absolutely gorgeous,” she boasts.

“as if,” you mutter, but you know she truly believes it. chaeyoung has always argued that you’re beautiful, even though you know that the rest of the world, including you, doesn’t think so.

“i’m being serious!” she says with a playful smack to your shoulder. “you look hot! i bet he’s gonna drool when he sees you.”

“alright, you’re going too far,” you say with a shy smile.

“go! you’re going to be late,” she chastises. you check the time and realize she’s right. you hurriedly grab your things and scramble out the door.

beomgyu offered to pick you up, but you vehemently denied this on account of the restaurant being a 5 minute walk from your apartment. you need the walk to calm your nerves, anyway.

when you enter the restaurant, all bright-eyed and beautiful, beomgyu looks up from his phone in sheer shock. he knew you were actually pretty cute under the exhausted veneer you have permanently placed over you, but he never knew just how stunning you are when you don’t look like life has run you over. you’re actually wearing form-fitting clothes for once, too, and he likes what he sees.

when you lock eyes with him, you actually smile, which you have been doing a lot more lately, and he can’t help but return it with a smile of his own. it’s a little more eager and sincere than he realizes.

“you look gorgeous,” he remarks when you sit down in front of him.

“you’re exaggerating…” you mumble embarrassedly.

“i’m not. you’re stunning.” and he means it.

“th-thank you,” you say, and the air is thick with tension before you clear your throat and ask him if he's already ordered drinks.

the date goes surprisingly smoothly, all filled with laughter and banter. he already knew you were smart, but he realizes how funny you actually are when you’re not so tense. you match his mischievousness with your own and it feels so much like a real date that he forgets why he’s doing this in the first place.

he’s surprised to hear that you’re actually quite interested in music. you share a mutual interest in a lot of bands and you even offer up some recommendations of your own, which he earnestly writes down in his notes app. when he mentions that he actually plays the guitar, your eyes light up in interest.

“will you play for me, someday?” you ask excitedly.

“of course,” he smiles softly. a lot of girls have asked him to play for them, and he has always happily obliged in order to get in their pants, but this time feels… different somehow. like he really just wants to show you how much he loves music and creating his own.

as you leave the restaurant, he grabs your hand and laces it with his. to both of your surprise, you don’t pull away and even let him gently swing your hand back and forth. you actually look like a real couple. you feel like one, too.

dates with beomgyu become a happy, regular occurrence. you’re not necessarily together as of now, but it’s been about a month and you’re genuinely considering something serious with him. he seems to eagerly reciprocate this sentiment if his constant invitations are of any indication.

he suggests walking to the nearest park to sightsee, and you agree before you can even fully consider it. as you walk through the trail and take a seat on a bench in front of the pretty, sparkling pond, he locks eyes with you. you look so beautiful like this, eyes devoid of their usual exhaustion and wariness, replaced by a sense of peace. he can’t help but try his luck and lean down to, hopefully, join your lips with his for the first time. usually, he’d have tried this a lot sooner, but for reasons unknown to him, he’s treated you with a lot more care and reverence than he’s ever treated anyone before. a sudden ringing interrupts the moment, though. you casually take out your phone and all the aforementioned contentment in your eyes flushes out as you see the contact information.

“h-hello?” you say unsteadily as you unlace your hand with his and walk away.

he can’t quite hear what you’re saying from the distance you’re at, but he can see how wound up you are. he tries to be considerate and tune out your conversation, but when he hears you yelling and the person on the other end of the line yelling back, he can’t help but be engrossed. you’re borderline screaming now about something related to money. something about a sibling of yours, maybe. something about how you’re tired of being taken advantage of and how the other person is being unfair. you’re angry, he can tell. indignant, even, but all of that leaves your demeanor when you deflate with insincere apologies and a sense of relenting out of sheer defeat. after the explosive call ends, you walk back to him with the same exhaustion permeating through your bones that he’s become so familiar with. even though you’re dressed and primped so beautifully, nothing can cover the tiredness of your entire person.

“i’m sorry you had to hear that,” you say in a monotone voice.

“o-oh. it’s alright. is… is everything okay?” he tries tentatively.

“yeah,” you say with the most forced smile he’s ever seen.

“do you… do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

you sigh. normally, you would not. normally, you’d brush it off and just call chaeyoung to blow off some steam, but for some reason, you’re so frustrated that you can’t help but want to tell somebody other than chaeyoung because you know you rely too much on her for comfort. as for that somebody being beomgyu, you, for some reason, somewhat trust that he won’t go around telling everyone about your family troubles. you also vaguely feel that he won’t judge you, either.

for his part, beomgyu genuinely seems concerned. he seems like he wants to listen. he’s shown you, in the past month that you’ve known him, that he really does notice when you’re tired and cares enough to ask about you. he tries to cheer you up with coffee and snacks even though you have refused to divulge any of the details of your personal life thus far. what’s the harm in trying to trust him? you feel like you can tell him about this, so you do. and once you do, it’s like you can’t stop.

you tell him all the dirty details of your home life and just how fucked up it is. you tell him about how you’re forced to work a full time job on top of being a full time student to help with your family back at home. it’s not that you mind helping out, but they show you no consideration or care and you’re always left feeling like you’re just there to be their workhorse no matter how many times you tell them that you’re tired. the only time they ever contact you is to try to wring every last penny out of you. your sibling, of course, is the exception, and is the only reason why you keep doing it aside from your unfettered guilt that you were practically born feeling. your need for validation has not sprung from nothing, and it seems like your money is the only way to get it from the people you reluctantly call your family. you don’t delve into details about the abuse you’ve endured, either, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. still, you can't help but love them. you just wish they loved you, too.

when you’re finished speaking, you don’t even realize that you’re crying until beomgyu gingerly wipes your tears away. oh no, you think. you’ve said too much. he’s going to be scared off just like every other guy you’ve told about your emotional baggage. who would want somebody whose life is in shambles? your self esteem is low, your financial circumstances are almost as equally dire, and you have no redeeming qualities you can think of. what have you done?

you hurriedly apologize for your outburst and wipe your tears away in a frenzy.

“s-sorry. just ignore me,” you say with a shaky breath and he can see you folding into yourself.

“why would i ignore you?” he asks, cupping your face. “you haven't done anything wrong. i’m so sorry that you’re being treated this way, and i’m even more sorry that you feel the way you do. you don’t deserve this, you know?”

your eyes snap up to his at his words. does he really mean them? his eyebrows are knitted in concern and he seems like he really does care.

“it’s… it’s okay. i’m fine. i should be used to it by now, but i’m just so, so tired all of the time. i feel like everybody on this planet just wants to use me,” you sob. “everybody besides chaeyoung a-and now, maybe, you,” you admit, grabbing one of the hands that holds your cheek. he feels like he’s been electrocuted as your words resonate in his heart. he is using you. he is planning on throwing you away at his earliest convenience once he’s done with you.

but he’s increasingly unsure if he wants to do that, anymore. with every day that you spend together, he finds himself wanting to soak up every part of you. he wants to know everything about you. your likes and dislikes, what makes you tick and what makes you smile, and, now, what makes you feel so sad all of the time. he wants to be the one who takes away all of your exhaustion. he wants to be the shoulder you can cry on. he realizes that he never wants to see you sad ever again, and, more than that, he realizes that he’s felt this way for a while. when he began to genuinely care about you, he doesn’t know for sure, but it may have been the moment you told him how to win chaeyoung over as if you never expected anyone to be kind to you for good reasons. he realizes that he’s wanted to prove you wrong and that you’re worth giving a fuck about ever since then.

“sorry if that’s too much,” you say in lieu of his pensive silence, pulling away from his touch, but he pulls you into a tight hug before you can fully separate yourself from him.

“don’t be sorry. i want to hear about these things, if it makes you feel better. i want my girlfriend to trust me,” he says softly.

“your girlfriend?” you ask incredulously.

“well, yeah? i mean, if you want to be, of course,” he says sheepishly.

“of course i do!” you say excitedly. you throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a sweet kiss. your lips are soft and so, so warm. warmer than anything he’s ever felt before.

it’s a mere month before graduation, and you and beomgyu have been together for a few months now. every day is blissful. he convinces you to relax, and his mere presence is enough to soothe your nerves. the exhaustion that previously hung around you like a curse is pretty much gone and a spark of life has finally entered your countenance. he feels proud when he thinks that he helped put it there.

every time you’re overwhelmed at work, he seems to notice before you do, and he always stops by with a meal because he already knows you forget to eat when you’re stressed. by the same token, you reciprocate this sentiment by showing up to his apartment and helping him through some of his harder coursework with no complaint, even though your workload is considerably heavier. he resists, at first, but you insist on helping as much as you can and you tell him it makes you happy just to help him a fraction of how he’s helped you.

you don’t realize that you’ve helped him just as much. you’ve made him into a better person, unconsciously or not. you’re so considerate of his feelings and always make him feel important no matter how busy you are. he’s never felt this way about anyone or anything before, but he’s so grateful you’ve shown him how much love has to offer. love. he never expected to find it in such an unconventional way, but he knows it when he feels it.

heeseung, for his part, is pretty satisfied. after months of chasing, chaeyoung has finally agreed to go on a date with him. he has promised her a picnic and a night of stargazing, which she happily agreed to. when she tells you about her upcoming date with heeseung, you’re a little surprised. what are the chances that beomgyu’s friend knew what you had suggested to beomgyu when you thought he was interested in chaeyoung? but they’re friends. best friends, even. it’s not shocking to think that if heeseung expressed interest in dating chaeyoung, that beomgyu would share what he knows. you snuff the light of suspicion out with a vengeance. hasn’t beomgyu shown you how much he really cares about you? how could you doubt him like that? you’re a bad girlfriend for even entertaining that thought.

it’s another dreary day in the library for beomgyu. he just wishes you weren’t working so you could hang at his apartment and make out, but he knows you’re swamped with work these days, so it’s all just a fantasy. that doesn’t keep him from indulging in it, though. when heeseung pulls up a chair next to him, he audibly groans.

“what’s with the attitude?” heeseung playfully chastises. beomgyu doesn’t need to rely on his almost preternatural intuition to know that heeseung is over the moon right now.

“oh, i know. you’re thinking about your little girlfriend, aren’t you?” he teases.

“so what if i am?” beomgyu snaps, a little too defensively.

“hey, man, i’m just kidding. you’ve done a great job on bagging her for me. my date with chaeyoung went great, by the way. thanks for asking.” beomgyu just rolls his eyes at heeseung’s obnoxiousness, which, if he recalls correctly, was one of chaeyoung’s turn-offs.

“i’m glad it went well,” beomgyu says sarcastically, devoid of any sincerity.

“for paying your half of the rent for months, it better have! it was worth it, though. so, so worth it.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” a sudden voice cuts in from out of the blue. chaeyoung. oh no.

“n-nothing,” heeseung says hastily, looking like a deer in headlights. beomgyu can only stare with widened eyes — too shocked to do anything else.

“bullshit. you said you paid his rent because he ‘bagged her’ for you. were you talking about who i think you’re talking about?” heeseung rushes to deny it, but she turns her hardened gaze to beomgyu.

“were you fucking talking about who i think you’re talking about?” chaeyoung repeats through gritted teeth. beomgyu feels his heart sinking to his stomach. his whole world has come crashing down around him and he feels like he could just die from the shame. he wishes he could deny it, but her eyes are teeming with a sense of knowing.

“y-yes,” he says softly while breaking eye contact with her and looking at his hands, which he didn’t even know he was wringing. a sudden burst of pain on his cheek tears his gaze away from them, though, as chaeyoung slaps him square across the face.

“you’re a piece of shit, you know that? she trusted you, and you know how hard it is for her to do that. you’re fucking filthy,” she says in rage and disgust. the librarian has now come to investigate the disturbance, but chaeyoung quickly says she’s already on her way out. before she goes, though, she sends one last damning look at beomgyu and leaves her parting words.

“just you fucking wait until i tell her about this, you son of a bitch.”

beomgyu is anxious beyond words. he doesn’t know if he should call you, text you, or show up to your apartment groveling on his knees. he doesn’t have the time to do any of it, however, before he sees a text from you saying that you’re coming over.

when you arrive, that same old tired look you always had before meeting him is there, and it has increased exponentially. gone is the vigor you two had fought so hard to restore. oh no.

he tries to greet you, but you just hold a hand up to stop him in his tracks. you take a seat on the couch and look so tense you could explode at any moment.

“chae already told me, but i want… i need to hear it from you. is it true?” you ask shakily.

“baby, listen, i was—”

“is. it. true?” you repeat impatiently.

“... yes, but i—”

“i see,” you say with a solemn nod and a tight-lipped smile. his mouth feels dry as he waits for you to elaborate, but after a long, long silence, he realizes that’s all you have to say in the face of his deceit. he wishes you would cry, or be angry and yell at him for lying to you. it’s infinitely worse, somehow, to see you accepting it as if it was a matter of course. and, to you, it is. of course he wouldn’t like you — let alone love you. of course it was all a sick, cosmic joke. that’s what you are. this is what you deserve, and you’re an idiot for expecting anything different from him or anyone else.

“well, i guess you’ve won the bet,” you sigh, rising from your seat and smoothing down your skirt. “congratulations.”

his eyes are watery now, but you perceive it as the reaction of a child getting caught doing something he knew was wrong in the first place. you have accepted things with the type of resignation only a truly defeated person would have, and it breaks him more than he ever supposed anything could.

“don’t be sad,” you can’t help but add when you notice his upper lip trembling. “you can smile; i know you want to. now you won’t have to deal with me anymore. i’m sorry for wasting your time.” your words snatch him out of his entranced state and he’s rushing to get his next thoughts out with a desperation he can only describe as primal.

“n-no, that’s not it at all! and don't be sorry! i… i’m the one who’s sorry. i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean —”

“it’s okay,” you cut in with a knowing smile, which shatters the last remnants of his heart. “i understand. i really, really do. i know you’re not a bad person. it’s my fault for taking this whole thing too seriously.” your smile is still there, but it has twisted into something truly ironic and teeming with disgust. not toward him, he realizes, but toward yourself. “i should’ve known better.”

he’s rendered speechless once again, but you don’t give him a chance to collect his thoughts before walking away, closing the door lightly behind you. what words can he say to you to undo what he’s done? he wishes he could dig out his heart so you’d understand his true intentions. they were ill at first, yes, but they’ve evolved into something different entirely. something so sincere and pure he doesn’t dare to show it to anyone other than you. and you’re so calm about this entire situation, it’s driving him mad. how could you think so lowly of yourself as to see this coming? how could you think his actions were anything less than appalling and cruel? and, oh god, what has he done?

you’re okay. you really, really are. living in the aftermath of what you had foolishly believed was love is painful, to say the very least, but there are worse things, after all. what those things could be, you can’t seem to think of at the moment, but you know they exist even if you don’t have the energy to ponder them at present. chaeyoung, as expected, is more loving than ever. she rarely leaves your side these days. she’s always been clingy, but there is a level of doting and care she reaches without complaint on her part. beomgyu, to his credit, has seemingly taken the hint and fucked off. he doesn’t show up to your shared class and you took the liberty of blocking him on everything you could possibly think of. even it he hadn’t gotten the memo, chaeyoung is by your side like a rabid dog and she will gladly bite if he approaches. you’re grateful for that, you guess. him essentially cutting himself out of your life has made pretending like he never existed much easier. there are still traces of him, though, and they haunt you viciously.

there’s a party celebrating your impending graduation, and you would rather die than go, to be honest, but chaeyoung makes such a convincing argument that you can’t help but relent after hearing her drone on and on about how you deserve to have fun and let loose since your college years are ending and you have yet to fully put yourself out there in terms of student life. you will, in all likelihood (and with any hope), never see most of these people again, so will it kill you to just let go for once? on top of that, it will be a welcome distraction from your downward spiral that inevitably comes when you think of beomgyu.

you don’t really know what you’re doing when it comes to dressing up besides the basics, but chaeyoung knows more than her fair share and is all too willing to doll you up in a way you previously thought was impossible. after her flitting hands while doing your makeup and careful choices in wardrobe, you barely recognize yourself. for once, you feel good. you feel confident. you even almost feel worthy of standing alongside a drop-dead gorgeous girl such as your best friend, so when you enter the door of the house party, you don’t feel as small as can be under the scrutinizing gazes of all the usual party goers. one familiar pair of eyes watches you in awe, though, even if you don’t notice. you’re much too engrossed in the atmosphere of pure fun to recognize anything else.

you’re not really one for dancing — far too awkward and uncoordinated to really try it — so you sit as comfortably as you can on the decidedly uncomfortable couch and sip on what must be your third drink this evening. you’re smiling in contentment at the sight of chaeyoung dancing with her new crush. if you can't be happy, you’ll be satisfied with her happiness, instead. this is how it should be, you think. this is how it always should’ve been.

you’re so stuck in your thoughts you don’t even turn your head at the feeling of the couch sinking as a boy sits next to you. that is, until he clears his throat and you’re snapping your eyes up to meet his.

“i’m taehyun. i’ve never seen you around before,” he casually remarks. he’s really beautiful, like, fresh off the runway beautiful. you almost wonder if he’s talking to somebody else for a second, but his expectant eye contact with you tells you otherwise. you shyly introduce yourself and mumble something about parties not particularly being your scene.

“really?” he smiles. “that’s a shame. i wish i’d seen you before tonight.” you can’t help but blush. “i’d like to get to know you, if that’s alright.” you’re not so stupid as to fall for a man with honeyed words, at least not again, but you find yourself caring less and less about the repercussions as your head feels foggier and foggier. so what if this is a sick joke? you’re almost out of this hellish purgatory you call school life, anyway. even if taehyun doesn’t end up liking you, what’s the harm in indulging in a little fun while you can? you’re not going to put your heart on the line again — you’re too jaded for that — but maybe you can enjoy his company for what it is, no matter how fleeting it may be. so before you can think any better of it, you agree.

or, at least, you try to, but your sentiment is cut short with a sharp tugging of your arm.

“beomgyu, what are you doing?” you hiss as he leads you to an unfortunate-smelling bathroom.

“i-i need to talk to you,” he replies sheepishly.

“what’s there to talk about?” you ask with a sigh. “i’m not mad at you. i forgive you. so what else do you want from me?” you actually seem a little annoyed, which he has never seen before from you. it causes him to sputter and almost lose his train of thought.

“you know what i want to talk about…” he says meekly.

“oh? the fact that you dated me and said you loved me because of a bet?” you can't help the bitterness that laces its way around the edges of your words.

“yes, it was for a bet, but then it wasn’t about that, anymore. i really did fall for you. i… i love you.”

“i don't believe you.”

“b-but i mean it! how can i make you trust me?” his voice is overrun with desperation, but you quirk your eyebrow at his words.

“you can't make me do anything. i don't know what you're getting out of this, maybe some sick satisfaction that you can pick me back up again at your leisure? maybe you just feel bad for me? whatever it is, i don't care anymore.”

“no! listen to me, i really do care about you! i know i hurt you, but let me be there for you. i… i'll prove to you how much i care. how much i love you.” you're quiet for a long, long time. an excruciatingly long time. you seem to consider every syllable he just uttered, but you don’t seem fazed by his sincere words at all, and he worries he's losing you for good. before he can stop himself, he gently cups your face in his hands and tenderly runs the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks. you don't push him away and, for that, he’s grateful.

“alright. alright, i do believe you. i believe you love and care about me,” you admit with a sigh. he lets out a shaky breath he didn’t even know he was holding in before he presses his forehead against yours. thank god you believe him. maybe you don’t trust him yet, but he’ll do everything in his power to earn it back.

“i believe you, but it’s not enough,” you say resolutely, grabbing his hands and prying them off of you. his heart sinks and he can’t help but feel the sting of tears in his eyes.

“i forgive you, i really, really do, but you can't treat people however you want and expect things to go back to the way they were just because you’re sorry. i can’t… i won’t accept that.” he winces and he makes no move to stop his tears from falling now, but he bites his lip to stop the whimpers.

“you know me. you know how hard it is for me to… to believe that i’m worth loving.” he flinches at your self-deprecating words and he wishes he could kiss your face and erase any doubts of your worthiness. you are the most lovable person in the world to him. he wants to shake you and demand that you see it, but what right does he have to do so? instead, all he can do is shake his head furiously in denial of your sentiments.

“and everything you said, everything you did, just makes me believe that i’m right about myself. even if you mean it now, i can't get over the fact that it was all a lie from the start. if you love and care about me like you say you do, don’t you think i deserve better than that? better than having to be reminded that the person i love the most in this world only chose me because he wanted to get his rent paid?”

“i’m… i’m so sorry,” he repeats with a whine. “i wish i could go back in time and redo everything.”

“but you can’t,” you say softly, and he whines again, like an animal.

“i promise… i promise that i really love you, okay? and i’ll wait for as long as i have to for you to see that,” he says between sobs. you can’t help but feel sorry for him. you’ve seen beomgyu cry from stress, but never from the pure, unadulterated amount of pain he’s feeling as of now. you almost want to acquiesce and let him have his way, but you can’t do that. you don’t have much dignity to speak of, but even you can’t tolerate a betrayal this sizable. maybe, before you met him, you would have, but ironically enough, his presence has taught you that you should never compromise yourself like that for anyone. not even for the one you love the most.

“thank you, beomie,” you say softly, “but i don’t want you to wait for me. i want you to be happy, okay?” you ask as you stand on your tiptoes and press a goodbye kiss to his forehead. “and i’ll try to be happy, too.” without waiting for an answer, you leave the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

“i don’t want to be happy if it’s not with you,” he mumbles bitterly, but you’re too far away to hear it.

notes pt. 2: is this cheesy? YES. do i care? ONLY A LITTLE BIT. anyway like i said lmk if u want a part two <3

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @zzhyuu @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @defnotleee @midwinterblizzard

*if you would like to be added to my permanent taglist or my taglist for the (maybe) upcoming next part, lmk!

#niningtori #cruel intentions #beomgyu angst #txt angst #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fic #txt fic #txt x reader #beomgyu x you #txt x you

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deaddovedecadence · 7 months ago

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Title: First Meeting (The Sunshine Verse)

Summary: You come face to face with the leader of the Batclan mob

Warning(s): Possesive behavior, scarring, kidnapping

You don’t remember being drugged, you don’t remember losing track of Lyre, you don’t remember going anywhere and yet you’re here, stuck in an unfamiliar room, a chain on your ankle. You’re unsafe, you know this, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The room is clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, and it smells like lemons, not lemon scented cleaner but real, fresh lemons. You hate it. It's not your first time being kidnapped but usually you’re confined to a dark room or messy, dirty basements that make you want to throw up. This is your first time being kidnapped since joining the force (you had a really unique childhood okay) and you can’t help but wonder why you've been taken, if someone thinks you'll have real information for that.

Soft, well muffled sounds start up next to the door but quickly fade to silence. You hate it here, the thick silence, the not knowing where your best friend (brother) is, the chain that rests on your ankle. Speaking of the chain, you haven’t tried to walk yet and you can’t help but be curious. Slowly, carefully,, you get yourself out of bed and walk to one of the doors, letting it creak open. It;s only a bathroom. There’s one other door in the room and you’re pretty sure that you know where it leads. Out of here. You start walking towards that door but the chain stops you before you can get too close. Going back a few steps, you make a few loops in the area that seems safe and attempt to run towards the door. Immediately the chains are pulling you back and you slam to the floor. Well whoever has you certainly isn’t an idiot, which makes your job all that much harder.

Eventually you pull yourself off of the floor and crawl to the bed. As soon as you’ve arranged yourself in a manner that doesn’t hurt too much, you’re asleep.

“Lyre,” you call, listening to the echoing chirps of the birds, trying to ignore the sounds of “lyre, lyre, not lyre,” to themselves, loud as can be. It’s foggy out today, but not so much that you can’t see in front of you. The walk to work is weird without your best friend, but peaceful, even though the birds are chirping loudly, mocking birds calling Lyre’s name. As you’re approaching the police station, you note the crowd of people, how their murmurs grow and change. They’re all saying his name. You get closer and your best friend (brother) is just laying there, spread out on the pavement, his blood staining everything a terrible shade of red. You kneel down, staring at him. Lyre’s eyes are wide open, unseeing and you can’t help closing them. Your hands are red now.

You wake up screaming.

It takes a minute of blind panic for you to calm down and become aware of your surroundings again. You’re in the same room as yesterday and still sore as fuck. The only real change is that there’s a chair in the middle of the room, well more like a throne (you may or may not role your eyes) and a man sitting on the throne. He’s wearing a venetian carnival mask, black with a white bat around each eye. Every gothamite knows it as Sire’s mask.

You’ve been kidnapped by the fucking bats. Shit!

“May I help you?” You ask politely as you can manage. Sire’s mask, cold and porcelain keeps smiling,golden even as the man takes off his fucking mask. You’re going to die, you’re going to fucking die. You look down so you can’t see his face. The man sighs.

“You can look up. I have no plans to kill you. Rather I’d like to thank you. You took care of my son while he wouldn’t allow me to.” Now you’re confused. You chance a look up and meet the eyes of bruce fucking wayne, gotham’s biggest philanthropist. You don’t even know what to say, because the man who’s been credited for saving Gotham is the one keeping it in order as the cruelest man on the east coast. “I don’t understand Mr.Wayne. I don’t know any of your children.”

Bruce Wayne smiles faintly, “Not even Jason?” Every single person born and bred in Gotham knows the tragedy of Jason. It’s said that a mobster went after him and killed him, and in revenge Mr. Wayne swore to oust the mob from Gotham city. Knowing what you know now makes you wonder what really happened. “No offense but I’m pretty sure that Jason is dead.” Wayne laughs bitterly. “We thought so but when your friend Lyre had to go to the hospital,, my doctors found something pretty interesting. A blood match. Would you like to guess who exactly is the match” everything starts to fade out and go dizzy. You were the one that made Lyre go to the hospital because he’s always hated hospitals. “Was it Jason?”

“It was Jason.” Wayne unless his legs, neatly rearranging himself. “I’d like to tell you a story.” You shrug, looking away. “When my son was a child, he lived on the streets. One day I had a meeting in Crime alley and he was crazy enough to try and steal the tires off my car. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. It’s so much like the Lyre you know that you know, mischievous and carefully reckless, always doing something that he shouldn’t be. What was real? “And when I came back to my car, there was this tiny vicious little boy fighting my guards and fucking winning. I’ve always been fond of stubbornness and there was something about Jason’s desperate desire to survive that stuck me so I brought him home with me. He’s been a member of the family ever since.”

When Wayne talks about Jason, you’re reminded of a Pet owner talking about their best show animal or something. He’s not talking about them like they’re humans but as if they’re prizes to be won. He sounds like a collector, marveling over his trophies. You can’t help but want to upset this man, can’t help but dislike him.

“If he was a member of your family, why did he leave you?” Maybe he’ll hurt you, maybe he’ll kill you but either way you’re going to mouth off for lyre. Wayne’s expression doesn’t even change. “I have six other children,” he explains, “and half of them have anger issues. Do you really think that you’re going to phase me?”

Your logical mind reminds you to be polite, your desire to live tells you to go apeshit. “That doesn’t answer my question,” you snap, ignoring his question all together. He doesn’t even blink. “Jason left because he didn’t agree with our methods. He did not understand the reasons I allowed my youngest to work in the basement at twelve nor did he appreciate our love. “ You’ve heard the stories from Lyre about his family, about the scars he carries from their love. Now that you've met Wayne you can’t help but wonder how many of those scars are physical. There’s a scars on Lyre’s back, tally marks, five of them to be exact. Are those from here? Are his tattoos from here?

“When do I get to see Lyre again?”

Wayne smiles Serenely, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a monster, instead he looks soft, and almost genuine. “When Jason calms down enough to be safe to be around again.” You tilt your head, wonder what he means and carefully do not ask. “Am I stuck in here permanently?” Wayne shakes his head politely. “No you’ll be coming to dinner tonight and Alfred will help you order anything that you might need.” That’s not what you mean. You want to go home. “Can I go home?” “This is your home.” You scoff and bear teeth. “My home is a little apartment by the wharf, not a mansion full of crazy people.”

Wayne’s smile turns sharp, vicious. “I’d like to remind you that your privileges hedge on your good behavior. It’d be very easy to lock you away until you’re feeling more polite.” You get the feeling that wayne isn’t making a threat. He’s making a promise.

#yandere #platonic yandere #yandere writing prompts #yandere platonic #yandere batfamily #batboy tag #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere x reader #the sunshine verse

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urdepressedslut · 1 year ago

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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part four❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.

♡ Warnings: talk of parent death, light angst, fluff, stalking, hints to death threats

Part 5

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Despite falling asleep way earlier then you had meant to last night, you still felt exhausted. Mentally, physically— everything.

You had hoped to wake up, with all the events from yesterday being a dream. But unfortunately, you couldn’t escape the heartbreak.

Your hand itched for your phone, wanting to call your Father— to apologize. Pathetic, I know. You didn’t mean to stress him out, if that’s what you did. You didn’t mean to cause any problems, you were simply trying to spend time with him. As harmless as the act seemed, apparently it was an issue.

You were alone.

The thought brought images of your Mother to the surface, which for the most part were happy. It was the longing to have her hold you that brought on the wave of tears. You missed her so much. Her passing was so sudden— so out of nowhere. You’d give anything to see her one more time, to say goodbye this time.

“Morning Mom… I miss you.” You whispered to the ceiling, a part of you waiting for an answer you knew would never come.

You remembered the nights that you wailed to your walls, crying to the ceilings— in your desperate attempts to talk to your Mother. Even after some time, the pain didn’t fade. You knew it never would.

Although she wasn’t physically here, you hoped everyday that she was watching over you.

Your head pounded slightly from crying last night— into this morning. You quickly decided to hop into the shower, hoping that the warm water would relax your muscles, calm your racing thoughts.

Today was a good day, you would make sure of that.

After showering, you already felt better. You felt clean— almost as if the shower had physically washed away the negativity. Well, you hoped it did just that.

Throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, you headed downstairs. Already brainstorming ideas for breakfast, wondering what Bucky likes?

James. Where to even start.

You figured out pretty soon after meeting him that he was reserved. Kept to himself, would rather sit in the corner of the room while everyone else talked.

You giggled to yourself, thinking of him like a bear. He was a big burley man— like a bear. He could eat an entire fridge— like a bear. He was a total grump… but with that you could see the fuzzy side of him locked away— like a bear. Well, kinda.

You only noticed his fuzzy side from last night, helping you to bed— which was a little blurry amongst you being exhausted. But overall, you could tell he was being gentle with you. He could’ve easily just thrown you on the bed and called it a night, but he didn’t. He made sure you were okay— comfy.

The thought of him caring about you, even in the slightest— had your heart beating rapidly. Your stomach fluttering with sudden nerves.

Before you could finish your thought, you bumped right into a slick chest. Wait— slick?

Stepping back, your mouth hung open. Your eyes betraying you as they scanned up and down the view in front of you.

Bucky had just ended a workout it seemed, and was standing in front of you with his shirt off— exposing his thick, toned muscles. His body shined with sweat, and you could hear his slight heavy breathing.

All of a sudden you were just barely closing your legs together tight. You were only human— and the sight of him like this had your brain short circuiting.

“Sorry (Y/n).” He apologized, his voice breathy.

You took a deep breath, giving him a smile, but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks— and you just knew you were red in the face. You looked down, pretending that the floor was suddenly interesting.

“Oh it’s f-fine!” You rushed out, stumbling over your word’s suddenly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

What was wrong with you? You see him shirtless once and suddenly you are a cat in heat— control yourself!

Bucky on the other hand noticed your colored cheeks, smirking to himself at your nervous behavior. He realized he was shirtless, but he didn’t think you’d have much of a reaction.

You snuck another look at his glowing chest, your eyes then noticing the dark metal on his left arm. You furrowed your brows in curiosity, and instinctively leaned closer to investigate.

Bucky watched your eyes lock on his arm, and he couldn’t push down the discomfort the gesture brought. It wasn’t you— no. It was the reminder that he was different, and that no matter what— people would always view him differently.

You glanced up for a second, catching the discomfort in his eyes briefly. You cleared your throat and straightened back up.

“Sorry— I didn’t mean to stare like that! I’ve just never seen something so cool.” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck.

Bucky waved it off, like it was no big deal— because it really wasn’t. For some reason he didn’t mind your curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it.” He brushed it off.

You nodded your head in understanding, but he could tell you had many questions.

“Go ahead.” He rolled his eyes, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

Your eyes sparkled and you focused back on his arm.

“Can you feel things with it?” You asked, knowing it was a dumb question— but with how high tech the arm seemed… you were genuinely curious.

“No, it’s like any prosthetic— just a metal one.” He told you, holding his arm out so you could see it better.

“Since it’s metal— is it heavy?”

“Surprisingly no.” He answered, looking down at his own arm— inspecting the gold designs.

He realized then, he never really took much time to investigate his own arm. He was shocked to notice even tinier details amongst the gold streaks.

“If you walked by a fridge— would the magnets stick onto your arm?” You asked and Bucky squinted his eyes, giving you the look.

“I don’t know— but we aren’t going to test that theory.” He huffed annoyed, although it was hard to keep the act up when he heard your light laughter float through the air.

You were holding a palm over your mouth, in attempt to quiet the giggles— but the tune leaked through the cracks of your fingers. The sweet song dancing around him.

“Sorry, sorry. That was mean! I just wanted to know.” You giggled.

Before you could think about your next move, you stepped forward and held his metal hand in yours— looking closely at the metal.

Bucky knew he couldn’t feel things with his metal prosthetic, so why was he suddenly getting this phantom tingling where his fingers should be.

“So cool.” You whispered to yourself.

Bucky fought down the smile at your reaction to something so simple. Well, simple to him.

He cleared his throat and started to pull his hand away, despite him not really wanting to.

You released it quickly, scratching the back of your neck again in embarrassment. By now, your cheeks were dusted a dark pink.

“Oh… um anyway— I was actually looking for you, trying to decide what to make for breakfast? Any ideas?” You asked him.

Bucky waved you off again.

“That’s not necessary, I had…” He only had a single cup of coffee this morning. “I had something already.”

You nodded in understanding, but felt disappointed that you weren’t going to be able to make him something. Providing him with food made you feel needed— even if it was breakfast here and there.

“Oh okay. I guess I’ll just make something for myself then. I was thinking later I could go shopping for some things, wanted to do some baking!” You announced happily.

Meanwhile, Bucky tensed up. Remembering Pierces words of advice to keep you home as much as possible. The threat to your life still looming over your head.

He’d come up with something— something to distract you from going out. Although, the sensible side of him wanted to tell you the truth. Out of everyone— you deserved to know.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” He started, not sure if he should tell you or not.

You faced him, waiting patiently with a smile.

He felt so guilty all of sudden, keeping something like that from you. But he couldn’t go against Pierce’s wishes. He was your Father— despite being an odd one that is.

“Uh… Maybe we could get to know each other better later?” It was the only thing he could think of in the moment, something that would keep you from going out.

Again, he felt the guilt seeping throughout him when he saw your eyes widen in pure joy.

“Yeah of course! I wou— that would be great!” You rushed out, completely forgetting about baking.

You wanted to unlock all his secrets, not because you wanted to pry— no. It was because he was so mysterious, his presence alone made you want to know more about him. You could also see that he was a good man, and you already trusted him. Why wouldn’t you want to know more? That was the only reason— yeah.

You sent him another smile, one that had the corner of your eyes crinkling— and you headed towards the kitchen. He couldn’t ignore the way you were almost skipping.

Yeah— he felt like shit.

You had made and eaten breakfast, heading towards the library first thing after.

You had previously been reading lots of Thrillers— the suspense always being one of your favorites. The way you could flip the page, on the edge of your seat— anxiously awaiting what was next. There were so many books where the pages seem slightly crumpled, from the many times you were so eager reading— you squeezed the pages from excitement.

Although, things started to shift since a couple days ago. I guess, things started to shift since Bucky became your bodyguard.

It wasn’t an immediate shift— no. It was a slow change, as before— there was no tension in the air. Well, of course because you were by yourself. Now, the air seemed thick— growing thicker as each day passed. But it wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable tension, rather one the you felt drawn to.

The change had you ditching your suspense filled books— and replacing them with romance instead.

It wasn’t a genre you shied away from. In fact, you had read quite a selection of them— yet none had stuck with you.

Something in the air brought you to the romance section of the library, and you were shocked to find yourself glued to your spot— your eyes searching the rows of books.

Bucky was checking the windows of the house when he heard the sound of faint knocking coming from the front door.

He furrowed his brows, wanting to believe that is was Steve stopping by again. But he couldn’t keep the fearful thought away— that it might be your stalker. The perimeter was guarded, making it impossible for someone unknown to approach the house. But this stalker seemed to of gotten past them already, leaving pictures and notes scattered.

His hands clenched into fists, his shoulder tense. This was another reason why he wanted you to be aware of your stalker— so you could be prepared. He wanted you to know a backup plan, know a place to hide while he took care of them. Right now, you were clueless about the threat towards you. It only caused him to be more stressed, needing to talk with Pierce immediately.

He walked to the door, glancing through the frosted glass— he didn’t see any silhouettes of anyone. Giving one last look, he opened the door and was relived to find the front porch empty.

Although, the relief was short lived. As he looked down near the mat— he found a box. It was white with red ribbon tied around it.

He felt a presence suddenly and glanced up in alert, but relaxed instantly when he saw Steve approaching.

“Hey Buck, you alright?” Steve asked, walking up the front steps.

Bucky ignored Steve’s perfect timing and assumed he had men watching the front door at all times— but if that was the case… then why hadn’t they seen who dropped this off?

“Yeah— just found this.” He pointed to the box, which Steve immediately got triggered by.

“Where did tha— Buck. When did this get here?” Steve asked, grabbing his walkie.

“Just now— I heard a knock and when I opened the door there was no one here. Just this box.” He explained, looking at the box— curious.

“Okay. I’m going to take this and get it off her property— in case it’s a bomb.” Steve told him, which had Bucky widening his eyes in concern.

“Jesus— okay. Be careful.” Bucky huffed, feeling more stressed.

Steve put his walkie away, giving Bucky a nod before grabbing the box carefully, walking it away from the house in a haste.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, walking back in the house and securing all the locks again. A part of him wanted to know what was in the box— but another part of him was scared to find out what was inside.

His mind was cruel and had him imagining the most vile things, he hoped that whatever was inside— wasn’t what he was thinking.

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capricornlevi · 10 months ago

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no surprises - toji x reader

wc 1.6k - hitman!toji x mobwife!reader, fem!reader, strangers to lovers -dark elements (but not really related to sex -- toji breaks into reader's house to assassinate mob husband), cheating (technically -- reader's husband is a piece of shit lol)

nsfw, mdni

Toji hates it when his hits have wives or girlfriends.

As cruel a bastard as he may be, the thought of unnecessary collateral makes him uneasy to say the least. It's messy, too, unnecessary and uncomfortable. When one of his targets has a wife there's a sure guarantee she'll be by his side more often than not. It increases the risk for all parties, whether they know of their involvement or not.

He wonders why these men never have the decency to get a divorce before involving themselves in shit like this.

And so, as he carefully picks the lock to your kitchen window, he hopes that tonight's job is clean. That you'll stay out of his way.

Kill the guy, clean up, and ideally, get out without even waking you.

So imagine his surprise when he makes his way inside as planned, turns down the hallway to get to the bedroom he's so carefully mapped this past week, only to find you standing pyjama-clad in the hallway with arms crossed, looking at him with an expression one could only describe as inconvenienced.

"He's not here," you mumble, the words laced with sleep but still pointed.

Toji prides himself on being quick on his feet, but in this rare instance, he's lost for words. He doesn't even draw his weapon.

"Uh ... hm ... what?" he finally decides, though the words leave him without much active decision-making on his part, spilling out into the cold night air.

"He's not here," you repeat, enunciating each word slowly. "Did you not hear me? Though that would explain why you made such a fucking racket breaking in."

"What the fuck-"

"And you're replacing that lock, by the way," you spit, eyes heated with frustration as you give him a once over. "I heard you give up and break it."

Toji's head could explode right here and now. How has this ... this cannot be happening ... he's carried out hits numbering in the three digits, and not one target has ever seen him coming, much less the wife of some low-ranking gangster who stole the wrong amount of money from the wrong people.

Still, you don't shy away from him, keeping your gaze fixed on his increasingly confused face.

"What do ya mean he isn't here?" Toji huffs then, finally realising the futility of this situation. Standing there stupidly isn't going to improve his image, he needs to cut to the chase. "Is he out?"

You huff a laugh. "You could say that."

He arches a scarred brow. "He's dead?"

"May as well be," you answer plainly, devoid of any sympathy or grief. "Kicked him out on Sunday. Tried to steal my engagement ring and then went after my parents, mumbling some shit about collecting their life insurance policy even though the idiot isn't even named on it. So I made a call and the name of his hotel is with your bosses now."

"Then why didn't they--"

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "How should I know? They probably sent some other guys to the hotel and kept you here in case that worm came wriggling back."

Toji's not sure why, but he believes you -- probably because of the unafraid, unemotional manner in which you're delivering this information. As though you're a teacher scolding him for a failed assignment.

He releases his grip on the weapon tucked at his hip -- he doesn't even remember at which point he went to grab it -- silently swearing at a wasted evening.

Sure, he'll still get the flat rate for a call-out like this one, but if he has proof of death he gets triple pay. He could really use that this month; he likes having his lights stay on for longer than forty-eight hours at a time, and figured tonight would've been an easy job, particularly with how stupidly your husband has been acting these last few months.

"Uh ... okay. Sorry for inconveniencin' ya," he mumbles, figuring it best to leave now without wasting either of your time any further.

He could stay here and argue more, but he's not in the mood. He needs to get back. Plus, he's already disrupted your night enough -- as curtly as you've addressed him these past few minutes, he can't say he doesn't see where your frustration is coming from.

In this short interaction, he's developed a sort of begrudging respect for this woman who views an assassination attempt in the same way most would view a parking ticket.

"Wait!" you call out just as he turns around. He hesitates -- though you don't seem like the type to call the police given your knowledge of your husband's business.

Maybe you're not finished giving him shit for this embarrassment of a botched assignment?

"Yeah?" he answers dutifully, brushing his hair from his eyes with a tired swipe of his hand, turning back to face you.

"Want to have a drink with me?" you ask straight-forwardly, arms still crossed and expression unmoving. "He left his 20-year whiskey behind, and I haven't had new company since he weaselled his way into my life."

"I-"

"If you've nothing better to do, anyway."

This woman ...

He has never had as difficult a time reading someone in his entire lie.

"Well?" you press, a hint of impatience growing in that beautiful voice. "What do you want to do?"

Surprise once against takes precedence over any other emotion in Toji's body.

Tonight couldn't get any weirder. He's sure of it.

Except it definitely can, as he discovers just thirty minutes later, with you sitting atop him as he's spread out on your bed, riding him so hard the bed rattles against the wall.

This is a little fucked up. You both know it. He came here to kill your husband, but it's so hard for him to care about minor details like that when he sees how your tits bounce with every thrust upwards, how your face looks when it's torn in pleasure.

Your husband is a bigger idiot than he thought.

You haven't been touched like this in a long time, haven't had someone's hands on you like you deserve, and that thought enrages him for some reason.

His focus for tonight has shifted entirely. He's no longer out to kill, to hurt, his one responsibility is to make you cry out on his cock, on his tongue, on his fingers, until both of your voices are worn out and hoarse.

You're so pretty like this, so responsive to every twirl of his thumb and jerk of his hips.

Though -- and he hates to admit it -- you're exerting some control over him as well. His well-worn self-discipline is being tested like never before. On your couch just a few minutes ago, with his mouth spread against you and your leg tossed over his shoulder, you had managed to then manoeuvre yourself until your fist was wrapped around his cock, your pretty fingers stroking him until his breaths sounded choked and desperate, until a flush spread up his chest to his neck and jawline.

He had to still your wrist to keep from coming all over his own chest. That would lose him any shred of credibility he had left.

He's obsessed with the way you kiss him, too, so hungry and desperate with no sign of that earlier unshakability you possessed. He's sure you still have yourself in some semblance of control -- though he barely knows you, he knows you wouldn't relent that quickly -- but you release yourself a little, sinking into it with a quiet moan that sends ripples up his spine.

And now, with your hips sitting flush against his own, it's hard to imagine caring about a single other thing than the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

You take him so well, every inch of him, knowing exactly what to say to drive him insane. In turn, he learns what he can from your reactions, each microexpression showing him how you like to be touched.

You toss your head back, that beautiful throat gulping down gasps of air in between cries of Toji's name, shoulders tight with the tension of keeping yourself seated on him.

He gives you more when you ask for it, pumping up into you and relishing the answering groans and mewls of pleasure.

(Honestly, he'd give you anything you wanted from him. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you requested it with those pretty doe eyes and your lips curled into that sly little smile.)

A familiar heat curls in his stomach but in a way he's entirely unfamiliar with; usually, it builds slowly and reliably, bit by bit, but this time it rises erratically and without any sign of when he's approaching the edge.

This is dangerous. You're dangerous for him, you have him in the palm of your hand and hold the ability to crush him into tiny pieces if you so wish. It scares him while also sending pulses of pleasure straight to his cock, coupled with the feeling of your throbbing clit as he circles it with his thumb --

Thankfully, you fall apart at the same time, spasms of pleasure overtaking every single thought in either of your heads.

As you settle into the afterglow, Toji is in no rush to move you or shift himself. He runs a roughened hand over your thigh, the skin smooth as silk, marvelling at how you shiver under the touch.

He just looks up at you, that hint of confusion from earlier still present but accompanied by something else.

Strange, he thinks to himself. Not a wasted evening after all.

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #i have no thoughts in this empty brain of mine #may tries to write #toji x you

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natsarrownecklacx · 1 year ago

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Cruelty Is An Art Form Pt. 4

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count- 4,722

Summary- Your the daughter of one of New York’s most known Mob leaders. Unfortunately, you’ve caught the attention of New York’s most feared Mob leader, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings- 18+ fic, minors DNI, Smut, Mean Mob Nat, Mentions of killing, confusing relationships dynamics/ feelings, descriptions of violence (noting too bad)

Series Masterlist

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

If a few days ago you had even a fleeting thought that you might be in this situation right now you would have admitted yourself for a voluntary seventy two hour hold. Natasha Romanoff, THE Natasha Romanoff, the mob boss, mass serial killer, ruthless, cold hearted woman that she is, just introduced you to her “babushka’ as her finance.

Eh, no. No thank you. This has been quite enough insanity for one bad dream. You’d like to wake up now. Be back in your home in your nice, warm and comfortable bed with your favorite stuffie, the one you’ve had since you were thirteen years old, tucked between your arms and your chest, holding the bear close to your heart where it belongs. Giving you every ounce of comfort you will need once you wake from this nightmare any moment now.

Seconds pass and you just stand there in shock. Unmoving. Not saying a word.

For the other two people in the room the whole thing is a little awkward. You, however, are simply waiting until your brain decides to stop having a stroke and wake you from this madness.

Any second now. Just gonna wake up. With everything but subtlety you bring your left hand to your right forearms and pinch. Hard. You wince slightly at the pain but that's it. Nothing else happens. Not waking up? Okay then.

Natasha clears her throat and snaps you from your panicked state of delusion. Damnit. Why couldn’t you be dreaming.

You look to the redhead, the question of what the fuck is going on right at the tip of your toung ready to be unleashed. Natasha only has to raise her brow at you, daring you to open your mouth, to shut you up.

You let your mouth fall closed and you instinctively swallow your words, nodding vaguely in submission before turning your sights on the other, older, women in the room. You smile at her apologetically and do your best to smooth things over. “Hi.” You say, more awkwardly then you would have hoped to. So you clear your throat again. “Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.” You mumble, whipping your now sweaty hands on your pants.

“It’s so nice to meet you, dear.” The older woman says softly and you can see in her smile that she is doing her best to reassure you. She waddles toward you, well, more to do the old woman shuffle, and although you have no reason to fear her, you have to resist the urge to take a step back.

If the older woman notices your tense posture she chooses not to act on it, which you are grateful for, because the second she puts her arms around you in a warm embrace you feel the tightness in your chest ease. You all but melt in her comforting embrace and for a slip second it

makes you forget about the situation you're in.

It's the first time since you left that bar that you feel almost completely at ease. A tear wells up in your eye as you think of it, as you let yourself have this comfort. You might have even let that tear fall, let it track its way down your face as a sign of your exhaustion with the whole situation and the fear you feel.

But Natasha is looking at you with a tilt to her head, a curious look in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips. It almost looks as if she likes that you and her grandmother are getting along. Disgusting. If there was one thing in this life that you would absolutely NOT be doing, it would be causing that evil woman to smile that way. As if something inside her cold, dead, void of a heart might actually start beating again.

You glare at the woman and turn your face away, unable to look at her stupid green eyes anymore.

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am.” You say, pulling away from the embrace but the older woman keeps you in her grasp, her hands holding your forearms loosely.

“Oh please.” The woman scoffs lightheartedly, as if the two of you knew each other well. “Call me Galina. We are going to be family after all, are we not.”

You let out a nervous chuckle at her words, hoping for your sake that it sounds more like a genuine laugh. “I… suppose we are.” You smile at her, not completely hating the idea of being related to the woman, but her granddaughter? You’d rather sleep on a bed with nails then tie yourself to that woman in such a way.

Galina, gives your arms a comforting squeeze, sending you another smile before pulling away and moving in the direction of the living room. She stops just as she passes Natasha and reaches out to squeeze her arm, similarly to how she did yours.

“I like her, Natalia.” She says, in an approving manner. “She’s nice and very polite.” She leans in closer then, as if telling her granddaughter a secret. “And she’s very pretty.”

You smile at the woman bashfully for her comment, your eyes drifting from her to the redhead beside her when you feel green eyes looking at you.

“Yeah.” Natasha says, her eyes locked on you and looking strangely soft as she does. “She really is, isn't she.”

You blush at Natasha’s words and try to taper down the surge of self loathing you feel at the uncontrollable reaction you have to her. You suddenly find the floor very interesting and decide to examine the tile in favor of keeping your eyes away from the woman.

Galina pats Natasha on the arm then and shuffles off to the living room as if nothing had happened. Natasha waits for her granny to be out of the room before turning to you, one brow raised and a shit eating grin on her face as she takes in the sight of your blush tinted cheeks. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t really have to. She seems to have this natural talent to annoy you without even saying a word.

She opens one arm out and gestures toward the hall Galina had disappeared down, silently commanding you to follow her. You narrow your eyes at the widow, making yourself look as annoyed with her as you can, while still trying to tamper down the red on your face. Wordlessly, you brush past her, making sure not to look at her and follow Galina into the living room.

———————

Natasha is sitting next to you on the couch, nearly on top of you with how close she is, her hand resting comfortingly, or threateningly, on your thigh. She’s leaning her side into yours, an easy, natural laugh passing her lips every so often and a permanent smile on her face.

Sometimes she runs her thumb over your thigh or squeezes the plush skin softly in her hold. You can’t help but let your eyes drift to the action each time, nor can you help it when your eyes drift to her face right after, or the immediate frustration you feel when you see that she’s already looking at you, an unfamiliar look on her face. Then, seconds later, a sly smile slides its way over her lips. Every. Single. Time.

Oh what you wouldn’t give to be able to just reach your hands up and whip that self assured, cocky look off her face. To just grab her and bash her head against the table. Harshly. Repeatedly. Until either she, or the table, breaks.

It seems as though your brain, all sides, rational and irrational, want the same thing and have decided to work against you for that common goal, because without even realizing it you’ve raised your hands to cup Natasha’s face. Her dark green eyes widen a fraction, her brows shooting up almost into her hairline.

You can see the confusion and intrigue swimming in her eyes. Dammit. You get lost in those graphic thoughts from seconds ago, staring into Natasha’s eyes. You could just tighten your hold on her and give her a good smack against the table in front of you. Or the back of the couch. Or your knee if you angled it just right. Or-

Natasha’s eyes slip closed, her head turning to nuzzle into your left hand and oh god. Why does she look so adorable right now? Without even realizing it you’d begun to rub your thumbs across her cheeks in a soothing motion. Your bodies are both turned to face each other fully, how did that happen, when did that happen.

You want to stop. You should stop. But she looks so comfortable, so content. A thought crosses your mind, when’s the last time anyones held her like this? And your heart cracks just a little, the solid ball of hatred you hold for her melting, even just slightly.

“Aww look at the two of you.” Galina, coos from her seat opposite to the one you and Natasha currently occupy. “You two truly make quite the pair.”

Thank god for this woman and her comments. The old woman's words bring you back to yourself, your hands retracting from the widow's face as though her skin and physically scorched you.

You send Galina what you hope is a polite, shy smile and lean back into the couch, brushing Natasha’s hand off your thigh inconspicuously in the process.

Natasha takes a few seconds before opening her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the tingle your touch has left on her skin. When she does open her eyes she looks slightly out of it, but she doesn’t try to touch you again. She simply sits and makes polite small talk with her babushka, and sometimes you, until the woman decides to leave.

“It was lovely to meet you, dear.” Glina says, as you all stand at the front door saying your goodbyes. The old woman leans in to give you another hug, this time giving you a light squeeze as she does so.

“It was nice to meet you, Ms. Romanoff.” You say, quickly correcting yourself when you see the playful glare the old woman sends your way. “Right, Sorry. It was nice to meet you, Galina.”

The older woman pats your back in approval and pulls away smiling, making sure to send an appreciative wink your way before turning to take her granddaughter into her arms. Natasha seems to melt against the other woman, the tension in her body all but disappears the second she’s in her arms. Maybe she just has that magic effect on everyone.

The sight is almost endearing, if it didn’t spike an odd, unwelcome feeling in your chest. It makes a daunting realization fall on your shoulders with a weight you're not sure you’ve ever felt before.

Natasha is just a woman. Just a person, like you or anyone else. She’s a daughter. A granddaughter. She isn’t evil in its purest form. Not Satan made flesh. She wasn’t just dropped on this earth one day to test humanity. Yet she still commits the most heinous crimes. Kills in the most disturbing ways. Still finds art in her cruelty.

She tried to follow the warmth of your hand when you’d pulled away from her face earlier, you didn’t want to admit to yourself that you’d seen it, convinced yourself that it was a trick your eyes played on you. Because that would mean she needed something. Needed kind and gentle touch, human interaction beyond her work, her killing. Killing she enjoys, you remind yourself and push away the borderline hurt in your chest at the idea that Natasha might be touch starved.

Natasha pulls away from her grandmother after a minute and offers to drive her home herself, to “make sure she gets there safely.” There’s a smile on her face, a kind and caring one and a look in her eyes you can’t quite place. You would have never guessed her to be an attentive person, even towards her grandmother.

You have to look away from her, turning your head to the side before you can lose yourself trying any other traces of humanity in the redhead.

Natasha notices the movement out of the corner of her eye but she chooses not to comment on it, instead keeping her attention on the older woman in front of her, who is now telling Natasha that she worries far too much for her safety and she will be perfectly fine with her driver.

————————————-

“Why did you tell your grandmother we’re engaged?” You ask the second Natasaha comes back from walking her grandmother to the car, the door barely closed fully behind her.

Natasha sighs and leans her forehead against the cool glass of the door. She takes a deep breath, counting to ten in her head and trying to stave off the irritation she feels at your question. She turns from the door toward you, her eyes catching on the way your arms have crossed protectively over your chest, causing your breasts to peek out over your top.

“Natasha?” You push, snappily and Natasha has to yet again swallow her irritation in favor of keeping on your good side. Or as close to your good side as she can get. All she really needs is for you to be compliant, to not cause a fuss or get any ideas of running away. That would cause far too much of a headache then she could handle right now. But she wants more than that, so she has to behave herself, at least as much as she can. She does still have to teach you a lesson on teasing her though.

She wants to tell you exactly that. That you should just stop talking and get on your knees. Put your mouth to better use and fix her building frustrations by burying your tongue between her legs.

But in all honesty right now she’s a little too caught up in the fact that you’ve just said her name. Just let it roll off your tongue as if it's the most natural thing in the world. God what she wouldn’t give to hear you say it in much different circumstances. Though you do look cute being all mad at her, a downward, almost pouting lilt to your lips, your brows furrowed and your arms crossed over each other in a defensive stance.

Instead she lets an easy, teasing smile slider over her face. She watches amusedly as your eyes narrow at her, as if knowing she wasn’t about to give you any form of straight answer.

“Why were you so quick to play along, Angel?” She taunts, taking a teasing step toward you. “Do you like the idea of being my wife?” You visibly gulp at her words and a hot feeling flares in her stomach as she watches you falter and take a step back.

“What? No.” You answer, a consciously added tone of disgust in your voice as you watch her continue her stalk toward you and you continue to walk blindly back.

“See, I think you're lying, pretty girl.” She says, a lilt to her voice that makes you think she’s doing more than just teasing now, she’s daring you to disagree, challenging you to prove her wrong.

Your back hits a wall and your breath catches in your throat. You watch, frozen, as a sinister smile slides onto Natasha’s face, a borderline ravenous look in her eyes as she slowly takes you in, her tongue swiping over her lips, wetting them as if preparing to press them to something, anything, in a few moments. You don’t know if you want her to or not.

“I think you love the idea of being my pretty little wife.” She’s standing in front of you now, less than a shaky breath away, her chin tilted down slightly to be able to look you in the eye.

She leans forward, her hand landing with a silent thud against the wall right next to your head, the other hand makes its way from your thigh up tp your hip, starting out as a light touch, her finger tips barley grazing your skin, only for her hold to tighter, possessively, wantingly, when she finds the dib of your hip.

“You're delusional.” You bite back, having just about enough of this woman. She doesn’t get to force you into these situations and then tell you it's what you want, nor does she get to call you a liar for denying her.

“Oh?” She taunts, moving forward more, her body now mere inches from yours, effectively changing you in. “So you wouldn’t like to be my pretty little stay at home wife.” She raises her brow questioningly, a faux skeptical look on her face. “You don’t want to have absolutely no worries? Just let me take care of everything? Take care of you?”

Natasha traces the hand on your hip back down to your thigh, hooking her fingers under your knee and pulling your leg up to rest on her hip. Your eyes widen, her actions having left you more open to her, more vulnerable.

“I could spoil you, Angel. I’d do anything for you, get anything for you. Whatever your heart desires. Say it and it's yours.”

You should look away from her, you should WANT to look away from her. Avert your eyes from her dark green eyes and her full lips, the ends of them curled into a smirk. Something in your chest screams at you to look away, take your eyes off this demoness before she swallows you whole. She has too much power already, you don’t want to give her anymore. You won’t.

But with her standing this close you can feel the heat radiating off of her, see a look in her eyes that seems something scary like genuine. She steps closer, closing the gap between you, your heart now thudding so hard in your chest you're sure she must feel it against her own.

You watch as her eyes drop to your lips for a full three seconds, her tongue swiping at her own again, before her eyes flick back to yours. She removes her hand from the wall and brings it to cup your cheek, the warmth and gentleness of it taking you by surprise. She tilts her head down more, drawing her lips closer to yours, her eyes almost pleading as she whispers, her breath fanning across your face as she does. “Let me take care of you, Angel.”

You take a sharp intake of air and the following sound that passes your lips is entirely involuntary, only you're far too swept up in her to care. You see something pass through her eyes, there and go faster then you can decipher what it is or what it means. Then again, do you really care? With her standing so close, touching you so gently, holding you like this and saying all the right things.

“Please.” You whisper back, hoping she doesn't know how much you mean it. Hoping she doesn’t catch the hint of longing and submission in your voice.

Natasha smiles and leans in to let her lips hover over your, she barely lets them touch, just grazing them before moving to trace them over the skin of your cheek, over to your ear. She smirks to herself at the noise of protest you let out, wanting her lips on yours in a more forceful way.

“What's wrong, Angel?” She asks, knowing damn well what she's doing. She moves her kisses down your neck, smirking against your skin when she feels you tilt your head back, giving her more room to work. She feels your leg held on her hip tighten against her, one of your arms up around her neck, holding her close to you and a quiet moan falls past your lips when she nips at your pulse point. She doesn’t think this can get any better for her right now.

“Natasha.” You say breathly, a hint of neediness laced through her name. “Please.”

Jesus Christ. How is she meant to go through with this now? How is she meant to pull away when she knows that's just a taste of what she’ll get if she carries on. Fuck it. She can indulge herself a little longer.

“You want it, Angel?” You nod fervently, a whine bubbling up in your throat as you push your body more against hers.

Natasha pulls away, finding a sinister satisfaction in the desperate look on your face. “Say it.” She says, already catching the hesitation in your eyes. “Say you want me to fuck you.” You swallow at her words and finally find it in you to look away from her.

Natasha however only wants your eyes on her. In one fluid motion she has her leg slotted between yours, a delicious pressure hitting your core. You moan lowly and press yourself against her, giving your hips one greedy thrust against her.

She stops you with a hand on your hips and your eyes snap back to her. “Tell me or I’ll stop.” She says firmly.

“I- I want…” You manage to say but seem to lose your voice and find yourself unable to finish your sentence.

“You want what Angel? You want me to make you come?” Natasha says, moving down to place open mouth kisses on your neck, marking you as hers. “With my fingers?” She says between kisses. “My mouth?” Another kiss. “You’d feel so good coming apart on my tongue.” You groan at her words and try to grate your hips against her.

“Would you take my strap if I asked, Angel? Let me fill you like the good girl I know you want to be for me.” Your breath hitches at her words and Natasha makes a mental note to use your apparent praise kink against you whenever she can.

“Or maybe you're happy to come as you are. Riding my thigh just like a desperate little thing. You gonna make a mess on my new pants, angel?”

“Yes.” You gasp, the pressure between your legs becoming borderline unbearable. “Please let me ride your thigh Mo- Natasha. Please let me come.”

A sinister smile slides onto Natasha’s face, her hold on your hips loosening, allowing you to move a little. “Go ahead Angel. Make yourself feel good on mommy’s thigh.”

You moan loudly at her words, wasting absolutely no time before rolling your hips against her. Natasha watches in awe as you grind yourself against her, the need between her own legs building at the sight.

She tries to move her hand from your hip but your eyes snap to her with a pleading look and your hand grabs her wrist keeping it in place. “Guide me.” You say, no trace of embarrassment at voicing your needs and Natasha can’t help the hot arousal she feels. “Please.”

“Well when you ask so politely, Angel, how am I supposed to say no.” Natasha moves both her hands to your hips, grabbing at them greedily, guiding you against her thigh. The reaction it draws from you is immediate. You push yourself harder against her, a lewd moan falling past your lip when you feel her tense her thigh beneath you.

Your hands fly to her shoulders, using her to anchor you, to pull her closer. “Feels good.” You murmur, dropping your head into the crook of her neck, face down in her shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” She answers and even though you can’t see her you know her brow is raised and a smirk rests on her face. “Is mommy making you feel good, angel.” She teases, tensing her thigh and lifting it against you while pressing you down with her hands.

You nod against her shoulder and turn your face against her neck, your hot breath hitting her sensitive skin. You whine, your left hand coming up to weave into the hair at the back of her head. You're so close. You can feel it. Natasha can feel it.

You let out a shuddering breath and Natasha knows she either has to pull herself away now or let her plan fly out the window, and with it, her vantage point. She has to teach you a lesson, she has to show you how it feels, to know that you're at least half as sexually frustrated as she is.

Her body is hot against yours, her all consuming presence both grounding and drowning you at the same time, and you're ready to let yourself fall into her completely.

She pulls away, rips herself from you and the startling cold of the now empty space where she was is altogether too sudden. You whine and reach out for her, wanting her to come back, wanting her warmth, wanting her to finish what she stated.

You look up at her through tearful eyes, the knowing, smug look on her face hitting you just as hard as the wave of cold moments ago. “Now you know how it feels.” She says, her arms hanging lazily by her sides, as though she is completely unbothered by any of this.

You don't say anything in response. You don’t even want to look at her. You turn away from her, silently and make your way toward your room, eyes trained straight ahead of you until you close and lock the door once you are inside.

You don’t see the way Natasha’s face drops. Or the way she moves to reach out to you but ultimately decides against it.

You need a shower, a warm one. You walk toward what looks like a bathroom door, removing your close as you go, uncaring of what you'll do with yourself afterward. You open the door and just as you thought a nice, decent sized bathroom is revealed. You don’t even take the time to look it over, simply make your way toward the shower, turn the water to hot and step inside.

You need that warmth back. She took it from you too soon, you were too comfortable, too close. How could you have believed what she was saying, that she would take care of you? That she wanted to? How stupid could you be?

It feels wrong, everything does, you do. Having been that willing feels wrong. Missing her arms around you feels wrong. The lack of her heat feels wrong. The fact that she’s not here feels wrong.

You close your eyes and sigh. This has all gotten so confusing. You hate her, there that’s it, not so confusing. But you wanted to believe what she said. You wanted to believe that she touched you the way she did, whispered in your ear the way she did, for a reason beyond just lust or amusement.

You want her. No. Yes. You can’t. You huff, annoyed with yourself and your dumb confused brain.

You think about her, trying to make ssense of it all. You remember the way she held you, the feeling of her lips on your skin. The way you felt when she touched you, when she told you she wanted to take care of you. That she wanted you to be her wife.

You remember her hands guiding you, you remember asking her to. You remember letting yourself call her mommy, in a way you’ve never been compelled to do with anyone before. You remember the way she looked when you said it, the way she called herself it right after.

Your hands trail over your wet skin and drop between your legs, your fingers roaming warm skin until they find what they are desperate to touch.

You drop two fingers to circle your clit, letting a moan fall past your lips. You slip one finger inside, then another. You come with one hand covering your mouth, head leaning back against the cool tiled wall and two fingers buried deep inside you.

If only one thing was going to come out of it today, it would be the fact that you were now significantly less frustrated. The same couldn't be said for Natasha, who heard your moan as she was on her way to speak to you.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

A/n- this took ages because I’ve genuinely been up the walls and barely been able to write 😭 hope ye like it tho

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut

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janeyseymour · 7 months ago

Note

Ooh prompts! Okay okay okay

How about Melissa finds a roommate who is not Jacob. And she's cute and nice but Melissa just keeps to herself because she's Melissa. Until one day, Mel is trying to read but can't focus for whatever reason (bad day, just in a mood, whatever) so her roomie reads out loud to her

And They Were Roommates

i gotchu.

WC: ~2.8k

Moving is always stressful. But moving in with a gorgeous, fiery haired woman who could kick your ass in an instant and you’re pretty sure could be part of the mob? You quite literally think that you’re in over your head.

But her ad seemed good enough, her career of being a teacher wasn’t a front, and as of right now this is your only option unless you want your rent to be out of your budget or your commute to be double what it is now. So, you spend the weekend moving your things into Melissa Schemmenti’s townhouse.

She doesn’t offer to help you- you just flash your smile at her as she hands you the key that she had made for you before she’s off. Honestly, your new roommate and landlord really isn’t even around for most of the weekend. The woman stays out for most of the weekend, claiming that she has errands to run or friends to hang out with. That’s fine by you because at least then you know you won’t be in her way, and she won’t be there to glare at you while you do your best to unpack everything.

The redhead only comes in at night once you’ve given up on unpacking for the day and you’re preparing to head to bed, just filling up your water bottle before you head to your room for the night.

“Hey,” you smile at her softly.

The woman, who was still trying to relook the door, jumps at your voice. She turns sharply, fist curled into a ball and ready to fight. Once she realizes that it’s just you, she lowers her hand and uncurls it. Then she catches the way you look…

You’re simply dressed in your night shorts and a tee-shirt, hair thrown up carelessly with your blue light glasses sitting on your face, and you have no makeup on. It’s a drastic change from the way that you came in, even just to move all of your stuff. You had come in clad in a sweet, floral jumpsuit with your hair beautifully framing your face, not one hair out of place, and just the lightest amount of makeup on to highlight all of your best features. Both ways, you took her breath away, not that she would ever admit that.

“Hello?” you say again, confused as to why she’s staring at you.

She blinks a few times. “Sorry, sorry. You startled me. I didn’t think you would still be up.”

“I won’t be for long,” you chuckle quietly and raise your water bottle. “Just came down to fill up for the night. Goodnight, Melissa. I hope you had a good night.”

“Y- yeah,” the redhead says, although it’s clear to you that she still isn’t really all there. Maybe she just had a bit too much to drink, you think to yourself (she was stone cold sober). “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You brush past her in order to make your way up the steps, and the teacher can’t help but watch you as you go. You were… wow. Again, she blinks a few times, wondering why you’re making her practically short circuit. She knew you were cute when the two of you first met, but there’s something about seeing you in your natural state that has her entranced.

The next day, you wake up and continue to unpack. She hears you shuffling around up in your room while she’s getting ready to head out herself.

The knock on your new bedroom door startles you.

“Come in!” you call once you’ve collected yourself. The door swings open gently to reveal your new roommate looking absolutely stunning.

“Hey. Just letting you know that I won’t be around much today. Heading to church and then I have a bunch of errands that I have to run,” Melissa tells you as she avoids eye contact- she doesn’t want to get caught staring at you again like she did last night.

You nod and smile at her. “Have a nice day, Melissa.”

“You too,” is all she gets out before closing your door again.

By some grace of God, you’re able to finish unpacking your things by mid-afternoon. Exhausted, but knowing that you still have to go grocery shopping and pick up a few little odds and ends, so you drag yourself out to the store.

While you’re perusing the aisles, you just so happen to run into your roommate. Quite literally- actually. She accidentally hits you with her shopping cart in the hip. You squeal out in surprise rather than pain, and when you look up to see who did it you’re met with the softest green eyes you’ve seen out of the woman.

“Y/N!” she says quickly. “I’m so sorry, hun.”

You laugh with a wave of the hand. “All good, Melissa. All good. Just startled me.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise her, extending a hand out and touching her forearm gently. You would be lying if you said neither of you felt the little jolt of electricity between the two of you at the contact.

Her eyes immediately go down to avoid your own. “Alright, well… I’ll see you later.” And she’s off.

As you continue to shop down the aisles you can’t help but wonder why your roommate is acting the way she is. In her emails, and even the first time you met her to interview for her extra room, Melissa Schemmenti gave off that she was a tough woman- someone who didn’t put up with any sort of shit. But now that you’ve seen her over the past few days, you’ve only caught her acting like a deer in the headlights or like a flustered schoolgirl.

Melissa, as she continues to waltz up and down the aisles at the Giant, she too wonders why you have her acting like an absolute idiot anytime she sees you. You’re cute and you’re sweet, but so are a lot of other women that she’s encountered. Deciding that she can’t get wrapped up and hypnotized by you and your sweet, soft eyes and voice, she vows to herself that she’ll just keep to herself while you live with her. She can surely do that for the next year that your lease is, right?

And she does- she does a nice job at keeping her distance, really only running into you in the morning and occasionally at night when you’re filling up your water bottle and heading to bed.

You won’t deny that this roommate situation is odd, but you don’t press. You technically live here, yes, but you feel like a guest. Melissa’s name is on the lease, and you pay her the rent directly.

But even then, when the two of you don’t directly interact a lot, you both learn a lot about each other.

You’ve learned that Melissa always does her grocery shopping on Saturdays at 2, she goes to church every Sunday, she loves her students more than you thought was possible. She prefers coffee in the morning and tea in the evening, occasionally with a glass of wine. You’ve noticed that she is very particular about how food is made, and she always cleans up her materials as she cooks- and that she only ever cooks what could feed a family of twelve. Despite that, she never asks if you want any leftovers, and you don’t press for them even though the smell is near heavenly. The redhead likes to curl up on the couch after a particularly hard day with a good book, a glass of (always red) wine, and what seems to be her emotional support Eagles sweatshirt- her cat-eyed glasses either on her face or on the tip of her nose are a staple. She’s usually in bed by 10 or 11, and she’s never a morning person.

Melissa, on the other hand, has learned that you’re just as enchanting as she thought you to be. You never fail to give her a smile and a soft hello as you make your way in or out, despite the fact that you may be exhausted or frustrated. She’s learned that you aren’t particular about where your food comes, but that you are particular in how it sits in the fridge- she never touches your things. The woman has come to learn that you have a ukulele and a guitar up in your bedroom, and she can occasionally hear you strumming it softly. She’s come to find that your singing voice is just as soft and as soothing as your speaking voice, a bit of a folky twang to it, and it often takes the place of a calming lullaby for her. She’s found that you are a bit of a writer, having found little scribbles of lyrics or chord progressions on sticky notes that you throw on the fridge in the morning to retrieve later once you’ve taken on the day and are ready to relax. It’s charming, and it gives her insight as to who you really are.

Although the two of you live very separate lives living in this one space, you’ve both found yourselves falling for each other. Both of you can only hope that you are falling in love with the real person and not some image that you’ve made up in your mind.

It’s about two months into living with the redhead that when you come home she isn’t stationed in her kitchen and cooking a meal for twelve. Instead, she’s sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Her book is open in her lap, and yet her eyes aren’t trained on it.

“Hey,” you smile warmly at the woman that you live with.

She just grunts in your direction.

You just give her a knowing look as you head into the kitchen to start your own meal. “You aren’t cooking yourself dinner?” you call gently. Your voice floats through the house and she hears you.

“Shit day,” she sighs. “Don’t feel like cooking.”

“Do you want me to cook something?”

“I was just gonna order a cheesesteak,” she says shortly.

You head back into the living room and bite the bullet. It’s been two months of you living here, and to be quite frank, you’re not very happy with the fact that all of your conversations with your roommate are as short as they are. You genuinely want to talk with Melissa and make some sort of connection, although now that you’re standing here you aren’t sure if today was the best day to pick.

“That sounds nice,” you say as you rock back and forth on your feet. “I can pick them up if you want so you can relax?”

That gets her to look at you. “What?”

“I said a cheesesteak sounds nice,” you repeat. “And I can pick them up so you can relax. Just tell me your order and where you want them from.”

“I- wow.” She looks you up and down before rattling off her order and where she wants it from.

“That’s where I like to get mine,” you grin. “Perfect. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

You place the order, and when you head out for the order, she’s still sitting there looking absolutely lost with her book in her lap. “Try to relax,” you tell her gently before closing the door behind you.

When you return, she’s still sitting there, although now she’s at least trying to read her book. You set her order down in front of her and take out your own. Then you head into the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of wine, and pour your roommate some as well.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask as you settle on the couch next to her, but still keeping a fair distance between the two of you.

She nods with a shy smile, although she still doesn’t look to you. You end up pulling a novel out of your purse and open it.

You read a few pages as you eat your dinner and sip your wine before you notice that Melissa is still just staring ahead- actually, she’s kind of watching you.

“You okay?” you furrow a brow. “Did I mess your order up? I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “No. Not at all. I just… You’re stunning.”

You blush and tuck a hair behind your ear. “No I’m not.”

“You are though,” she says softly. “You… come bringing dinner, you know exactly what kind of wine I was in the mood for, and then you just sit there and read as if you’ve not just made my day so much better.”

“I just figured you could use the pick-me-up,” you shrug. “You look like you had a tough day.”

“I did,” she sighs. “Those kids today really gave me a run for my money, and all I wanted to do was come home and read my book, but I can’t find it in myself to focus.”

“What’re you reading?” you ask her.

“The Girl On The Train,” she tells you as she shows you the cover.

You smile a bright smile. “That’s one of my favorites. I’d be happy to read it with you.”

“Really?” she asks quietly.

You outstretch your hand to take the book. She hands it to you with a raised brow, and her jaw drops just slightly as your soft voice starts to read aloud. She’s able to fully relax as she eats her cheesesteak, listening to your warm and light voice as it reads about some of the darkest tragedies in life.

When she’s finished eating, she holds up a silent hand, asking you to pause your reading. She cleans both of your areas up before she’s plucking both of your glasses up and taking them to the kitchen. She returns a few minutes later with full glasses and sits significantly closer to you.

“Can you keep reading?” She asks you gently once she’s pulled a blanket over the two of you.

You just smile as you nod. You begin to read aloud again. It’s a nice little bubble that the two of you are in, and you can’t help but let your eyes go soft as you look at her.

It’s a bit before her head falls to your shoulder, and you can’t help the small little chuckle that bubbles up out of you. The redhead is asleep, so you close her book a few pages before where you had paused and relax back against the couch cushions. The television is playing music softly, so you stretch just slightly to pick up your own novel and crack it open.

You stay there in your place for about forty minutes before your roommate wakes with a small jolt.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying to keep your tone soft and warm. You crane your neck just slightly to look at her, and her cheeks are just about as red as her hair.

“Sorry,” Melissa mumbles as she lifts her head from your shoulder.

You chuckle and shrug. “I didn’t mind. It was nice, actually spending time with my rooommate- even if she was asleep for about forty minutes.”

The teacher smiles softly. “It was really nice. Thank you for reading to me so I could enjoy the story.”

“Of course,” you reply gently. “I love that book, and most of the books you have on the shelves, so I’m always happy to read with you.”

So, the two of you often find yourself curled up on the couch together after enjoying a meal together. Sometimes she cooks, sometimes you cook, and sometimes the two of you go out and grab food. But you almost always end up on that couch with her head on your shoulder as she falls asleep to your soft and soothing voice. Sometimes you’re reading to her, other times you’re sitting there strumming a stringed instrument or writing while she watches her reality television shows. It’s a nice little routine that the two of you have found yourselves in, and it’s been a hell of a lot nicer actually talking to your roommate and getting along as opposed to the coexisting that you had done for the first few months of living with her.

And then one night, it all changes. As you’re reading to her, you can feel her head fall to your shoulder. With a knowing smile, you turn your head to glance down at her, expecting her eyes to be closed. But they aren’t. Those sparkling emerald eyes are looking up at you with such a fondness, and almost in slow motion does she lean up to kiss you.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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theminecraftbee · 2 years ago

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okay headcanon about how “being afk” works in-universe: it’s a self-hypnosis technique. it was originally invented by technical players seeking a way to be close enough to a farm to run it without having to deal with the mind-numbing reality of standing in a single tiny room for hours, or repetitively doing a single mind-numbing task for hours. it involves using a type of self-hypnosis that, to the player, feels like sleeping, but that they can “program” a very simple task or simply standing still for while they are. it’s possible to do this and retain some awareness if something happens around you, but it’s more common to do the version that effectively “programs” an amount of time to be out and what happens, happens. it’s generally considered semi-safe, and is the only way to accomplish tasks that require a player to be awake and around to do it without actually having to be awake, but there are some known risks - for example, unlike being asleep, damage or even death won’t wake you up, which can be a nasty surprise… or a great excuse for a prank. afk players are easily identified by their often somewhat unnatural-seeming stillness or the fact their eyes are open, but they don’t respond to you. as for why being afk works in mob farms when simply sleeping there doesn’t… well, the prevailing theory remains that the universe only likes to move when it knows someone is looking. if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there who can hear it… well, maybe it just didn’t fall at all.

#minecraft #hey I can actually use that tag for once!#anyway this is just a goofy headcanon.#that last bit is a bit more serious; that’s how the game works after all #a universe that only likes to move when someone is looking at it. how odd

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lo1k-diamonds · 1 month ago

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Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 5

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Falling down the rabbit hole has its perks and consequences.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, scars and mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, handcuffs, blood, implied violence, arguing and misunderstandings

A.N. I can't have a fic without Yoongi suffering with my OCs... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Enjoy 🔥🔥

You woke up feeling particularly snuggly, tucked with heavy blankets around you. Normally, that would have made you shake your arms and legs to get free, but this time you didn’t feel compelled to. In your daze, you realized it smelled good, and you didn’t want to leave that cozy cocoon. But then you figured out that your pillow was an arm, and your hand darted under your dress to your knife.

The blade was to his throat before you could even make out who he was. Then, your gears slowly turned as a few strands of his hair shifted across his forehead to his eyes as he languidly woke up.

Yoongi was naked behind you, with one arm under your head and the pillow, and the other wrapped around your middle. You doubted he felt your blade to his windpipe because his perfect skin didn’t have one single wrinkle of worry, not even when he opened his eyes a bit and saw you. Quite the opposite; he stretched without letting go of you as if waking up like that was just another Saturday, and you chuckled.

“I fell asleep,” you admitted, more to yourself than him, as you put the knife away. You didn’t do that; that was not your thing.

“Good. How do you feel?”

His raspy voice gave you goosebumps, and you turned your face the other way, giving him your back again. You shouldn’t feel this safe and relaxed, there was no such thing. But he was a cop, so if not with him, then with who?

You sighed. He was a goody two shoes; of course, he’d ask you about your well-being.

“Better than ever, ready for another one.”

He hummed and adjusted his head on his pillow, not coming closer, and you pouted and pretended to stretch so you could fall back into him.

You grinned, “And so are you, it seems.”

You rubbed your ass against his crotch shamelessly, smiling as you expected him to push you off and tell you to leave.

But he sighed, “It’s okay, it will go away.”

Your lips pursed instantly. You didn’t want his hard-on to fizzle out, you wanted him hard and crazy to have you. You wanted him to fight the urge to have you and pretend to be all lawful when in reality, he was dying to stick it in a mob boss like you.

You spoke quietly, “I don’t want it to.”

He didn’t move behind you, and you wondered if he had heard you as you hadn’t admitted it too loud. When you thought to turn your head to check and show your pout, his arm around you moved. Your protest was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it back because he didn’t move away. Instead, his hand landed on your hip softly, resting between the cover and your dress for a moment as if to allow you to slap it away.

You didn’t, and he continued slowly. He palmed down your leg where he could reach before returning, feeling your stomach and side almost respectfully. It made you wiggle in his arms, a little restless, but as your head fell back, you felt him. He was right behind you, instantly nuzzling you through your hair, taking you in. It was the most intimate moment you had ever lived — a singular palm on your lower stomach keeping you close, while he breathed in the sweet scent of your hair. You probably still had some concussion-related dizziness, but you doubted it was just that. Your body was melting, captivated by his gentle nature in a way you didn’t know could entice you.

But it did because the moment he moved to touch the skin of your neck, you let him. You sighed with the flutters his fingertips left behind and pressed yourself more to him when he reached your collarbones. At that moment, you completely surrendered to his touch, hoping he wouldn’t stop. Hoping he would see the barriers you always held up and ignore them, finally reaching you.

His fingers were gentle, almost shy when tracing the sleeve of your dress, but a longing sigh of yours was enough. His pointer pulled it the slightest, letting it loose over your shoulder, and you pulled the same shoulder back into him, telling him to go on.

You didn’t hide how eager you were for his touch; when the sleeve got stuck on your arm, you bent forward so he could access the dress zipper, and helped him get both sleeves off.

Only then did your breath get caught as he traced the marks down your arms. Usually, you covered them with make-up or clothes, and otherwise, you didn’t let anyone see them. The slightest discomfort prickled you, confronted with the scars and memories of things you didn’t want to relive, but then Yoongi moved on. He moved over the cigarette burn scars your father gave you as if they weren’t worth his time, and it brought tears to your eyes.

Instead, he traced every inch of your skin down your sides and to your front, touching your chest when you eagerly got rid of your bra too. His lips met your shoulder, and you knew he could see your naked body as you trembled under his touch, but it didn’t bother you. He was gentle, admiring you, but grazing his nails and pinching your hard nipples too.

You jolted into him, arching your back, and it felt like the dress was smothering, preventing you from chasing everything fully. So you pulled it down your legs and sighed when his heated skin glued to your back and ass, spooning you in his embrace.

His lips brushed the skin under your ear, then nibbled and licked your ear, and you squirmed into him. He wasn’t in a hurry, as if taking his sweet time was the full experience, but you were impatient by nature.

You called for him eagerly, “Yoongi…”

And in arching your back to make yourself as accessible as possible, he got your message loud and clear. He grabbed the flesh of your outer thigh to lift it, then aligned himself with you and imposed a rhythm on your hips. You groaned, your head falling back as you let him completely maneuver you on his dick. It was even better than if it had been you, much slower, too. It was as if he wanted you to take every detail of him connecting with you, forcing your warm heat to take him while his other arm held you to his chest.

It felt like nothing ever had, and you couldn’t wrap your derailing train of thought around it. His embrace kept you tucked in, flush to his firm chest, while his hand made you wail with every slap of his hips to your ass by supporting your hip. You didn’t know you liked it up close and personal like this; hell, you didn’t even think you’d like to relent control over yourself like this. But the more he made your hips sway so you’d fall perfectly against him, the more you conceded that you liked it—a lot.

Every time his big hand pulled you back, you anticipated the feeling of his thick cock pushing through your walls, and even more when he reached deep. Surely, he did it on purpose because suddenly, every time he filled you, you could feel the kiss of his tip to your cervix, making you keen. Yet even if you writhed, he didn’t let you get away, making you fall into him even harder, and nibbling on your neck for good measure.

You were so hot, your brain was overheating. Strands of your hair glued to your forehead while your hands tried to hold on to anything between the sheets, pillows, and his arms, both wanting him to fuck you so much harder and so much slower before the fire starting in your core had time to catch up with you.

He must have realized your desperation, because he groaned and suckled the skin behind your ear, between sticky strands of hair, right before his hand abandoned your hip to disappear between your legs.

You jolted when his fingers began tracing circles on your eager clit, and for a moment, you lost track of reality. You squirmed in his arms, waves of hot pleasure making it hard to breathe and comprehend what was happening. The pressure on your clit made you throb around him, but it wasn’t enough. His hips had slowed, not reaching as deep without his guiding hand, and you were left in limbo.

“Come on,” he whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t decide if it was sweet or a taunt.

Regardless, you started fucking yourself on his cock, whimpering with how his fingers complemented your feverish movements. You couldn’t see how hungrily he was looking at your whole body trembling, searching for pleasure in his arms, but you could feel the way you were melting down his dick, making his fingers slide easily while he breathed heavily near your ear. You couldn’t breathe, afraid that something as simple could stop your looming climax. Still, passionate whimpers left your lips every time you sank down, desperately needing his cock so deep inside you.

Yoongi was normally quiet, so feeling his heavy breathing on your neck was enough for you. Still, when he spoke, it electrified you, “Squeeze them— Let me see—”

His raspy voice made you clench hard, the thought of playing with your tits for him to see pushing you the extra mile. You didn’t let go of that new current and instantly let go of the sheets to grab your tits and squeeze them.

Your moan pitched to a wail and he pushed himself deeper inside you, “Fuck—”

His low voice made you shiver from head to toe and you came with a strangled moan, arching your back when he restarted fucking into you harder, even as he rubbed your clit to make your orgasm last.

He probably loved the way you were throbbing and crying, and you adored the desperate way he was sheathing himself into you until he popped, twitching in a perfect kiss to your cervix that made you scream.

Yoongi drove the late streets of Seoul with a sense of ease. He wasn’t much for sentimentalities, but he did think that was an easy road to remember if it ever came to that.

He supported his head on his hand while he waited for the light to turn. He wasn’t upset with you, just worried. Waking up next to you the day before was a pleasant surprise in many ways; maybe it was the same for you. You had been clearly startled, but the way you let go and let him touch and see you for the first time was incredible.

In the afterglow of your bodies trembling together, you let him hug you and touch you to his heart’s content, and as it turned out, it wasn’t easily content. He traced your sweaty body from head to toe, starting with his nose buried in your hair and ending up massaging your toes sometime later. He especially saw the scars on your arms but didn’t mention them. As a cop, he had seen marks of violence often, and those in particular evoked parental abuse. He didn’t know much about you, but he could guess your childhood hadn’t been easy.

You asked him about showering and he pointed to the ensuite bathroom, but then you raised your arms, waiting to be carried. He had heaved a deep breath but he wasn’t as annoyed as he thought he’d be. Instead, he picked you up and carried you into the walk-in shower, staying with you in a wordless embrace while the water poured down on you both.

He could admit he got carried away, too relaxed in your presence to think about what you two were doing. Even when you kissed slowly with the splash of water falling over your shoulders, when he pushed you gently to the wall, or when he grabbed your hair to keep you close, you didn’t protest for a second. You grabbed his waist, kissed him back, and accompanied him through every sensation.

Then, you smiled and said you were thirsty, and when he suggested getting you something, you said you’d do it yourself. He knew then you’d be gone once he got out of the shower, but he stayed quiet. He’d never insist that you stay; you didn’t know each other, and it didn’t make sense.

But he couldn’t help his worry, his vagrant thoughts, and a deep, hidden urge to check if you were alright. So there he was, stopped in front of the gate of your house, facing the camera while he waited for whoever worked for you to decide if he could get in. Even though he had your number and knew you were looked after by attentive staff. Even if it was none of his business.

“I’m opening it,” said a dry male voice through the speaker, and Yoongi only held onto the steering wheel, looking ahead.

He didn’t know what to tell you. He stopped the car in front of your garage, got out, and mindlessly walked to the open front door. In the back of his mind, he was getting worked up. What would he tell you? You’d ask what he wanted, but he had nothing to ask. You’d tease him for looking for you, for not getting enough, and he couldn’t deny it without lying to your face, so what the hell could he say?

Your butler guided him upstairs, someplace he had never been but couldn’t really pay any mind to. Not until a big mahogany door opened suddenly and all he saw was a large king-size bed in the back before being grabbed by your hand and pulled in.

You didn’t speak; just kissed him and touched him like you were starving, and fucked him like it too. He felt the sting from scratches you left on his shoulders the whole day, shuddering at the memories of the moans they came with.

He thought that was a one-time thing; you had casually told him you were fine and had work to do, and he didn’t raise objections. He got dressed, left, and kept his thoughts to himself, glad you were feeling better and didn’t ask anything more.

But the next day, you showed up at his place sometime before midnight. He was startled, seeing you on his couch when just minutes before it was empty. He was about to ask you how it was that you got inside his house so easily in the few minutes it took him to take a leak, but you were not in a sharing mood. You reached to unbutton his pants and not a lot of talking was involved in what followed.

It never was; you two didn’t really talk, but you did other things. You saw each other every day, taking turns going to the other’s house, and there was a lot of moaning and sweating, but not a lot of words exchanged

Every day, he wondered if that would be the day you wouldn’t be home, or if you wouldn’t visit. But as the days became weeks, it became a routine he got used to way too easily. He gave you the benefit of being consistent, always showing up at 10 PM so you had the rest of the night to work on your endeavors. Unfortunately, you didn’t give him the same grace, but you had other perks — like always having a drink with him, a tease, or simply a goodnight kiss that always left him bittersweet about parting ways.

He refused to think about any of it too deeply. Who you were, what you did; how whatever you two were doing would be perceived. How a few enemies would love to learn about you, and vice versa. Not to mention he wanted your moments together to last, not to just turn his back and walk away.

But as time went on, all those thoughts became sidenotes. There had been no rumors or talk about a possible affiliation between the two of you, your work hadn’t intersected, and he now had good whiskey and gin at his place so he could offer you a drink whenever you visited him, too.

It all turned on its head when you didn’t show up one night. Of course, you were never consistent — sometimes you showed up right after dinner, sometimes in the early hours of the morning. Still, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t ask about you directly, so he activated his radio and kept an ear on the police transmissions while drinking one glass after another in his office, just waiting.

The first rays of dawn were kissing the sky when you opened the door to his office. You found him on his chair, staring at the ceiling with the broadcast still on, wearing his coat as if he was ready to storm out. The dark circles under his eyes and a half-drunk bottle of liquor on the desk made you smile and lean on the door frame.

“I chose the right night to be late. You’re still working?”

Yoongi didn’t answer you; he didn’t even comment on your long, red dress. The cocktail party you attended had lasted beyond your wishes, making it hard to call it a night. You thought it would be worth it in the end because at least Yoongi would see you in that dress and tell you how beautiful you looked, as usual. But he was quiet, and you pouted.

He took the glass in his hand to his lips to finish the last traces of liquor before brushing his lips absentmindedly, and you stepped toward him without hiding your pout.

“Am I interrupting?” You perched yourself on the desk in front of him so he’d give you all his attention instead. “You knew I—”

He got up suddenly, slamming the glass on the desktop next to you before pulling your legs around him in a smooth motion, “You’re late.”

You opened your mouth, confused by his annoyance when you were the one entitled to being annoyed, but his mouth on yours shut you up. The way he kissed you was hungry, eager, not letting you settle for one second, not even to breathe. You moaned into his mouth, loving those deep, tongue-tied battles you always had, especially with the smoky whiskey taste coming from him.

The more he pressed you to him and ravished your mouth, the more you wanted to laugh euphorically and tease him endlessly. You thought he’d be too busy to be with you, but he seemed just as eager as you to call it a night and forget about the world.

He moved to kiss your neck, and you managed to smirk, but your words died on your tongue. His fingers went under your dress, searching your core while he got himself free of his pants. You shuddered and kept him close, listening attentively to his groan when he found out you didn’t have panties on.

“Took them off in the car,” you whispered in his ear, nuzzling him. “Don’t need them here.”

You knew he agreed because in seconds he was pushing himself through your entrance, invading your warmth as he had done so many times. You whimpered and he held onto you more firmly, pulling you flush to him so his cock filled you to the brim.

Your chin dropped, as did your eyelids, the pleasure relaxing you instantly to build a familiar lull of pleasure. He moved between your legs, and you helped him, grabbing onto his shoulders, and piercing your nails through his coat when he started speeding up his thrusts.

“Is this what I get for being late?” You said, with the tension making your tone harsh. “Might just start doing it more often just to get you to fuck me like this.”

His hand on the back of your neck instantly shifted to grab your hair by the roots, making you look him dead in the eyes. His harsh gaze was enough for you to know he didn’t want that, and your lips twitched in a small smile before they had to contort to moan from the pleasure rippling through you. You also preferred to be on time, especially to be with him.

It was hard to rebut he had grown attached to you. He knew what it looked like but it wasn’t that; he was genuinely worried about you and at ease whenever he saw you.

Still, he wasn’t delusional — he didn’t expect anything from you and had to remind himself that you were a free woman. If the day came when you didn’t show up or kicked him out, he could do nothing but accept it.

However, he found himself deeper in your life with every passing day. He had fucked you all over your house; hell, even on the stairs, despite the people that could see you if they passed nearby. Your office was your favorite, so it wasn’t strange to find you there.

Still, your frown was, and also that you didn’t stop to welcome him with a sly smile. On the contrary, you gripped your hair after noticing him, then threw a look at the cabinet holding the liquor before turning back to your paperwork.

“You’re tense,” he commented as he poured you both drinks.

“No kidding,” you bit out, before sighing into your chair.

He neared you with the drinks and placed both down, deciding to massage your shoulders first.

You opened your mouth in surprise before a low groan escaped your lips. His slender fingers pushing at the flesh under your neck was fucking divine.

You kept sighing and occasionally whimpering under his ministrations and he never asked what was wrong. You liked that but thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring it up.

“One of my clients detected a gap in his numbers,” you started quietly. “He’s accusing me of fucking up, and I was ready to tell him to fuck off, but he’s right.” You sighed with pleasure tinged with anxiety. “Something is up between my numbers and his, and I’m stuck. I can’t risk getting on his bad side, not after… playing it risky a few months back.”

You didn’t face Yoongi as you spoke, but he could tell none of your uneasiness was from talking to him. Quite the contrary, you weren’t as agitated because it was him. Because he had his hands on you. He found it endearing, even if he knew what you were talking about surely involved the money laundering he secretly knew you had going on.

“If we’re talking numbers, then maybe it’s something you can get to the bottom of,” he started quietly, with a low, steady voice. “Those things leave paper or digital trails and you know who the intermediary is.”

You frowned slightly, “I trust them.”

“Then maybe your client is trying to fuck you over.”

You spun your chair to look at him as if you just had a thought, then you got up and grabbed your phone. “Sit.”

He knew that to question you was a waste of time, so he sat on the office chair and you sat on his lap. You proceeded to have an extensive conversation on the phone, the content of which was lost on him. If not because the details eluded him, then because you kept rubbing your ass on his crotch and it was distracting.

He knew you felt his boner, but making him crazy was only an afterthought; a kick while you took care of things. The conversation must have been going well because you didn’t take long to slide your underwear down your legs, staying with your ass up over the desk, waiting for him to get his dick out.

As soon as you heard his zipper, you sat back, counting on him to aim his cock where it needed to go. You were so warm and tight, that he almost groaned, but it was your silence that got to him. He didn’t care if you were on the phone, you were never silent when you took his dick.

He brushed your long hair aside and bit the back of your neck in retaliation before letting it go. You slid up and down his shaft at your leisure, coating him handsomely, even if your voice was steady on the phone. At that point, he couldn’t care less; he had all the evidence he needed that you were feeling good, maybe even better than usual. Maybe you liked holding a conversation while pretending you weren’t riding his thick cock. He was tempted to challenge you, but you were stressed already; he’d rather give you a good time.

The moment you put the phone down, your motions changed, riding him fast, pressing yourself down his cock so hard he could feel his tip hitting your cervix the moment you came. You were breathless with tiny moans, the electrical discharge through your body making you tremble on his lap. He knew all the signs already, so he knew that orgasm was tainted by your stress and didn’t leave you fully satisfied.

He didn’t oppose you getting up and checking your phone. He stayed put, looking down at his creamed hard cock, stiff in the air, knowing he just had to be patient.

And indeed, a moment later you grinned and threw your phone on the desk like you were done. You grabbed the drink he had prepared earlier, handing him his own with a crooked smile, “Aren’t you the juiciest throne I’ve ever seen.”

He took the glass to his lips, unable to hide the twitch of his shaft at your comment.

You chuckled, “Is that an invitation? Cause I’ll gladly take it.” He finished his glass, ready, and you smirked, “Come along, then. Because of your advice, I’m done with work for now, and I’m in the mood to keep riding you in my bed.”

He got up, fumbling with his clothes, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can have a smoke after, I don’t want to wait.”

He was trying to hide his dick, even if he knew it was fine, but now he was worried. He felt all his pockets, then groaned, “Fuck, I forgot them.”

You raised your eyebrows; that was a first. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask Sooyong to get some.”

You left the room and all he thought was that you were the perfect woman, right before shaking his head and chastising himself. One addiction was enabling the other, that was all.

It didn’t take long to find himself naked on your bed, loving every second of you edging him and enjoying yourself on his lap. He didn’t know if it was to celebrate you finding a way to deal with your problem, his help, or just a normal Tuesday night, but it mattered little when you were on top of him like that.

He realized later it did matter when you put your clothes back on, walked out, and came back in with your phone, a pack of his favorite cigarettes, and a huge smile when you threw yourself next to him.

“You were right. My client doesn’t know I have people on his team, and guess what? He asked someone to make it look like shit was missing,” you smirked, then threw your phone on the nightstand and opened the pack. “Now I have proof that he fucked it, so I can keep him in line.” You put a cigarette between his lips and lit it up yourself. “There you go…” Your voice was tender, but your smile was cunning. “Gotta keep you around for the next time I need advice.”

That was the start of the two of you talking. Yoongi didn’t think it would go anywhere — a criminal and a cop; what was there to talk about?

But as it turned out, there was a lot. Both were careful to keep sensitive information and names out of the equation, but it was surprisingly easy talking to each other about work. If Yoongi complained about a case, you were aware of it. If you were frustrated with some politician being stupid, he knew exactly what you meant. You stayed away from each other’s turfs, but you started talking more and more, to the point that a part of your rendezvous was dedicated to sharing the latest developments and venting frustrations.

Going to your place at 10 PM was the norm, and you not being there was not necessarily something to be worried about. Especially, because he could hear the shower going in your ensuite bathroom when he got to your room, so he got comfortable.

He was getting rid of his tie and coat on a nearby sofa when he saw clothes fallen to the floor beside it and picked them up. Instantly, his fingers touched something wet but tacky, and the ferrous smell hit him before he saw the blood. He didn’t have to think twice; the clothes were yours and he had to make sure you were safe.

He dropped the clothes on the floor, pulled his pistol from the holster of his belt, and stepped silently to your bathroom, but you came out in time, wrapped in a towel and smiling widely when you saw him.

“Hi! I was just freshening up,” you got close and laced your arms around his neck, completely dismissing the gun in his hand.

He eyed behind you quickly before cupping your cheek to make sure you were truly relaxed and safe. Then he put his pistol safely back in the holster and pulled you closer by the waist.

“What do you want to drink tonight?”

Yoongi hummed, but he couldn’t focus on your question. “Who was it?”

His voice was quiet as he motioned the clothes with his chin. Not because he couldn’t ask; after months of sharing your life, bed, and thoughts daily, he could. But because there were lines, and one of them was you being in danger.

“It’s not mine,” you smiled, but it fell when you realized that wouldn’t be enough for him to drop the issue. “Just…” You started and your split second of silence told him something was up. “Some guy causing a ruckus in the city… Saw it on TV and thought I should intervene. Law-abiding citizen and all,” you grinned mischievously before spreading your hands over his shoulders and chest in a familiar gesture.

He blinked; TV news channels had started reporting on a case of his department recently. Notably, of a politician dragging Yoongi’s work through the mud.

“You mean Myung Seojun?”

“Well,” you pursed your lips, tracing his collarbones attentively for a second. “He might have been involved,” you said, raising your eyes with a hint of uneasiness, but mostly with challenge. The latter won completely because you raised your hands to his neck, “Nobody messes with what is mine.”

He saw something in your eyes that only made him hold onto you harder. It was in moments like those, he trusted you infinitely more, not just to keep his secrets and have his back, but to feel for him something close to what he felt.

Not that you ever spoke about that. You could as easily fuck all night or day long, or talk about the problems rooted deeply in the governmental system, but what you two were effectively doing was never a topic of conversation.

Still, there was that one time you told him you had never been with anyone like this. “All my life… I’ve seen it as a transaction.”

Your voice was quiet as you rested on his chest, still hot and sweaty from the long hours you’d been together. He was smoking a cigarette from the pack you had in your room just for him, and you were in a contemplative mood.

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

You said it quietly, almost shyly, nuzzling his chest, and he put his cigarette down on a tray by your bedside table, holding you closely while making sure you faced him.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. I don’t want that,” he rasped, brushing your cheek in a caress. He wasn’t even nervous, despite this moment being one of the most vulnerable you two had ever shared. Still, because you were giving him something from deep within, he thought he should do the same. “I never thought I’d be intimate with someone like this. Not after my ex,” he said dryly, and seeing the glint in your eyes, he added, “Not until I met you.” His finger brushed a few strands of hair out of your eyes looking up at him, “I thought I didn’t want it. Our marriage was a disaster, and it was true I didn’t get it up. I just… didn’t want to.” He heaved a sigh, “She couldn’t understand what I do, or what I worry about. The way the work consumes our lives.”

You hummed, “Or maybe she wasn’t dangerous enough.”

He chuckled, “Maybe. Maybe I got myself the perfect storm now: dangerous, beautiful, smart, and knowledgeable about what matters to me. About what I need.”

Your eyes stayed big and glistening on his, and he didn’t push for an answer. He kissed your nose and forehead and leaned back down, wondering quietly if you had understood what he was trying to say.

He thought you might have because things were different at his place the next night. You never let him forget he worked for the right side of the law, constantly teasing him about his handcuffs. He had let you use them on him before, so that night when you asked for the same, it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

But the way you asked him more questions as you had him cuffed to his bed was different, “Aren’t you scared of what I might do? I could do anything to you. Things you don’t like, ruin your life, fuck— take it, I could kill you.”

He nodded, “I trust you.”

Your eyes were glistening differently, but you started kissing him and didn’t stop until you were both exhausted, winded, and spent over his sheets. You released him and slept next to him, hiding in his embrace while he smoked, and wondered if there was more he could do to make you feel safe.

He didn’t expect to wake up the next morning to you asking him to put the handcuffs on you.

You looked scared, with wide eyes and trembling fingers, and he shook his head, “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“But I want to,” you insisted, grabbing his hands despite your nervousness. “Because I trust you too. I want to know what it feels like.”

He was hesitant, but at the same time felt responsible. He didn’t trust anyone else to be with you and respect and care for you like he did, so he agreed.

He asked questions, explained how you would do it safely, and tried to tell you his plan, but you stopped him, “I don’t want to know. I trust you to do this.”

Despite your watery eyes, your smile moved the foundations of his heart in unspeakable ways. You presented your wrists so that he’d cuff them, and he did. Then, he took you in his arms and kissed you with all the passion lodged inside his heart.

He, too, could do anything to you, but there was only the desire to do good. To treat you with tenderness and show you how deeply he felt for you.

The possibility of it being a mistake never crossed his mind. He couldn’t stop kissing you, adoring you with every touch, immediately immersed in his need to show you something he couldn’t normally do. Something he couldn’t explain in words or ask you about. He could show you, though. Show you what happened when someone’s heart was in it like his was.

He laid you down, glued to every inch of you, between your legs, then slipped your cuffed hands over his head to rest on his neck so you’d have support. Then, he entered you and, staying close like that the whole time, made love to you while you breathed in each other’s grunts and moans.

“I’m here,” he rasped, so close to your skin, it was muffled. He couldn’t stop showing you his heart, whether with his hips or words, “You have me. You’re mine.”

He could see in the way you were keening, face scrunched with everything happening, that you were as deep in it as he was. You kissed him back, moved with him, sighed with every reassurance, gripped his hair, and came with him so intensely that he thought you would pass out. But then you kissed him deeply, and his heart settled right there with you.

You two never spoke about it, but you didn’t need to. As long as everything stayed perfect like that, Yoongi would never be the one to push you. Just like it had happened so far, you’d come to him when you were ready.

He had completely forgotten about the case he was building on you until you said something that reminded him.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You were having snacks on his bed since you were feeling particularly hungry tonight, while he sat on an armchair just resting after a hard day.

He nodded, “I do, but I bet you don’t.”

You grinned, “Wasn’t it when your boss was trying to get a warrant to search the Aether? Only to come in person to tell me my name had been forged into some incriminating documents, so he apologized for chasing me?”

He blinked, “I’m surprised you remember me. I was just an officer then.”

You nodded and hummed with sour candy stuffing your mouth. “You were quiet but had this look. Like you could see right through me.”

You mused, reminiscing, and he kept observing you. He was young and naive, but there was something about you that put everything into perspective. Beautiful women really could be dangerous.

“And then you went on to build a case on me of your own,” you laughed unabashedly. “I’m flattered.”

His stomach fell at that moment, barely hearing you when you went on to say you were happy he didn’t pursue you too hard. It allowed you to grow this big, and you much preferred him now, a seasoned chief.

“It’s just funny to think our paths intertwined so long ago… I never thought we’d end up here.”

Your tone had a hint of tension, but he was inside his head, so he just nodded. This wasn’t right. He had long since come to terms with who you were and what you did. What he had on you… he had to get rid of it before someone got wind of it.

Suddenly, you scrunched your nose and got up, “I need to use the bathroom.”

He nodded again absentmindedly but didn’t waste any time. He went straight to his office and searched all the drawers and files until he found the one with your name. Then, he emptied a metal trash can on the floor and set your file on fire with a lighter, dropping it in to be safe.

The door creaked, and his eyes snapped up. You looked a bit pale but otherwise carefree with a long white shirt of his covering your naked body. You did it frequently when you wanted to be comfy, even if sex wasn’t involved.

“What is it?”

You neared him, eying the fire curiously, and he wrapped an arm around you, “Nothing, just getting rid of something.”

He pressed his lips to your head while you both watched it burn quietly, and you held onto him. It was better this way.

“Want something to drink?” You smiled, knowing your way around his cabinet like it was yours.

He nodded, then noticed you only poured one glass, “And you?”

You grimaced a little before passing him the drink, “My stomach is a bit upset.” He took the drink with a hum, and you sat down on his chair. “The commissioner general is retiring.”

Yoongi nodded, then leaned on the desk behind him. The faint burning scent matched the whiskey he was drinking. “Yeah, people are moving. I think I’ll stay in the same position.”

You nodded, “And the new commissioner?”

“Nothing official yet.”

You pursed your lips, annoyed that he wasn’t taking the bait to talk about it, but his mind was elsewhere, figuring if there was a digital trail he needed to get rid of quickly to keep you safe.

He visited you the next day and went straight to your office, as told by your butler, only to find documents on your desk about Jimin.

He was instantly reeling, puzzling it all together and getting infuriated as a result. You must have been the one to frame him; the dates on the files were from back at the start. Why else would you have a file on him? What the hell were you planning? He could forgive many selfish things you had done, but if you touched any of his officers, that would be too far.

You showed up at your door wiping your mouth with a faint smile, “Sorry, I had to rush—”

“What is this?”

He didn’t let you finish and pointed at your desk, and your features tensed. He couldn’t even notice you were the color of your white shirt; he was getting rattled by the silence.

“It’s a file.”

“On Officer Jimin,” he pointed out.

“On many different people.”

“Why would you have this?”

“Because he’s a part of it.”

“Yeah, we both know what he was a part of!” He almost stepped toward you but refrained, closing his fists. “Did you do it?”

You frowned, “Do what?”

“Frame him? Was it you all along?”

“No,” your features were neutral as you stepped closer to him to reach the files.

But he grabbed your wrist, “Tell me the truth.”

“I am,” you faced him, emotionless, while he attempted not to erupt like a volcano. “He was a byproduct of something bigger. He’s a small file amongst everything else.”

You spread the files on your desk to prove your point, and he let go of your wrist. There were codes and names, but a few photos stood out: Jimin, Junghee, and someone he never thought would be mixed up in there.

He pulled that photo out, “What the hell?”

You grinned bitterly, “Jae Seong Seok.” Your voice had no amusement, “Our up-and-coming commissioner.”

Yoongi gritted his teeth, quickly backtracking. He couldn’t confirm because he had burned his file on you the day before, but he remembered that one name from your log.

“What the hell is going on?”

Your expression retained a sourness, “He’s a tricky client, so I keep a record of everything he does. He wasn’t happy when he found out I had a hand in exonerating Officer Park, and now that he’s becoming the new commissioner, I kind of need to cover my ass.”

You sat on your chair with an unfriendly expression, massaging your stomach while he connected the dots. “Why do you need to? If he’s your client, you have things on him too. And what the hell did he do that involved Jimin? And Junghee?”

He was confused and you sighed, “People like him can get to anyone, even me. Even if he had to resign due to a scandal, he wouldn’t spend his life in jail, trust me. Between the national embarrassment of him going to jail or just me taking the brunt of it, trust me, your beloved system would bend backward to keep him clean.”

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he eyed your hardened features. You were right about that much at least, but he needed to understand. “Just tell me what this has to do with Jimin and Junghee.”

You heaved a deep breath and hesitated to tell him. There was a reason you never did, it would only complicate things. But you could see in his face that he was suspecting you instead, and it pissed you off.

“There’s a reason I didn’t tell you, and it’s not because I’m the one who did it.”

Your gaze was ice-cold from the need to protect yourself from the impending hurt while your stomach was twisting inside you, leaving you exhausted. You’d been sick for a while, and now was the worst time to do this.

“So just tell me now,” he asked, and you noticed at least his fists were gone.

You took a deep breath, “Officer Junghee was a dirty cop. Not by working with people like me, mind you, but with Jae Seong Seok. Whatever he needed to be done, Junghee would make it happen, as far as I understood.”

“That’s a lie.”

Yoongi’s instinct to protect his officers didn’t surprise you, “Funny how after almost two decades of service, he never moved up the ranks? Even funnier how he bought an apartment in Yeouido. Did you know? Left his widow and children very well set for a lowly cop with a shitty wage.”

Yoongi frowned, “He must have… You don’t know what other ways he—”

“Ah, that’s the thing about my line of work,” you interrupted blatantly, leaning in to speak almost venomously. “It’s my fucking job to know.” The bitterness of your stomach reached your mouth, but you continued, “The fucker went on expensive vacations yearly, you’d think he’d at least not parade his wealth, but that’s the thing about people that gain wealth and don’t know how to handle it — they get used to a certain lifestyle that’s hard to accommodate.”

This time, he stayed quiet. He could remember Junghee going on vacations, smiling at how his kids were entering good universities. Heck, the whole department celebrated when he bought a house, though he never said it was in Yeouido.

“Enter our beloved Jae Seong Seok, who wanted to get rid of him. My guess is that Junghee was demanding payment to keep his mouth shut, and that won’t do. Upcoming election and all.”

Your tone was so cynical, he could taste your bitterness in his mouth.

“I heard about the word to eliminate Office Junghee. Jimin was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Yoongi swallowed, then gripped his hair for a moment before facing you again, “They were chasing a car. That night, the two of them. One of your cars.”

You rolled your eyes, “My cars aren’t always mine. Did I know Ray? Sure, the fucker is a weasel. But he wasn’t working for me when he did that.”

“Ray? You knew who did this?!”

He raised his voice again, and you sighed, “What does it matter? Your boy was exonerated.”

“But the real culprit is on the loose! I don’t care if Junghee was dirty, his killer can’t be allowed to roam free!”

You leaned forward to pull a file from the messy pile to the top, “Read it.”

He leaned in and skimmed over the content, noticing quickly he was deceased, dating not long after Junghee died. The cause of death was drowning, but there was no more information than that. It was likely you knew by word of mouth otherwise there would be more. The photo matched the figure seen in the video that helped Jimin, so he didn’t have questions.

He heaved a deep breath, “Okay, but how can you be sure of the connection between Junghee and Jae Seong Seok?”

You dragged your chair forward, typed a password, and then an encrypted code on your search bar. It opened footage of a parking lot surveillance camera, and Yoongi almost choked. Junghee was in uniform escorting Jae Seong Seok to his car. The two spoke closely before an envelope passed hands. Yoongi kept his eyes on the screen until the Chief Superintendent General got inside the car and left, and Junghee counted the money in plain sight before leaving as well.

Then Yoongi groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Again, your Officer was just collateral damage. Jae Seong Seok would have let him rot in jail as long as no more questions were raised, but you and I didn’t let that happen. The case is still open since Ray's body was never found, though we know it’s over. To Jae Seong Seok, you and I are the only loose ends. But we're a necessary evil. For now.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me about this?”

You huffed and looked away, “I knew you’d react this way. You think everyone is bad except your precious officers, but everyone can be corrupted. No one’s hands are clean. Heck, not even yours.”

You glanced at his hands, then raked your hair back. It was true, but maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that.

He kneeled in front of you so you’d be forced to meet his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. If you and I are at risk, I should know about it.”

You looked away, but he grabbed your hands to keep you with him. You shrugged, “I have it under control.”

He observed you for a moment, but there was nothing in his expression telling you he didn’t believe you. At least he wasn’t angry anymore. It brought tears to your eyes that you disgruntledly wiped away.

“This is the price for helping me… Why did you?”

Your lips trembled, and you pressed them before admitting, “You moved me… You knew it wasn’t true, and you were willing to go to hell to prove it. Even if you didn’t actually know,” you scoffed, then smiled, observing his dark glistening eyes. “I… also couldn’t resist seeing how far you’d go. With the chance to get inside your pants, landing on my lap like that? I can’t be blamed for succumbing to your charms.”

He scoffed, and his lips curved, “What charms?”

You smirked and shook your head, “You’re right. Best if you keep ignoring them. That way, I’m the only one who has the pleasure of—”

His lips were on yours before he could stop himself, gently kissing you while his fingers brushed and held your cheeks. He wasn’t one for confrontations but was happy he had asked immediately and clarified everything. He’d do some internal investigation for himself, but he believed you. If your safety was in jeopardy, he had to set up a safety net for you both.

He liked your soft expression when he pulled away, enjoying his thumbs brushing your cheeks. You felt hot to the touch and looked tired, with dark circles under your eyes. Yet before he addressed that, he said, “You can tell me things like this. You know that.”

You sighed and tried to look away, “Maybe.”

He pressed his lips but didn’t insist. He wished there were no secrets between you, but he’d wait for you to make that decision. Giving you the time and space to come to him was still the best he could do.

“Do you want to drink something?” He asked, letting go of you gently. “Maybe a gin and tonic will put color back in your cheeks.”

You looked down and shook your head, “I don’t feel like it.”

He thought everything was well after that, but one week later, he knew it wasn’t. Something had changed, and it was like being forced to watch a chain-reaction car accident happen — there was nothing he could do to stop it, and the damage just kept piling up.

He had noticed you weren’t drinking for a few weeks, but it was starting to irk him now. Sometimes, you were nauseated, and at other times, you were starving. Sometimes, you just wanted to cuddle and sleep, but at other times, you wanted him to stay away because it was too hot and overwhelming if he touched you. You always had a strong personality, which he loved, but now you were unrestrained. Irritable didn’t begin to cover it; something was always wrong. You had fought every day for the past week and always over trivial things that he never even thought of before.

Since when did you care that he still used the same shampoo his ex-wife used to buy? It was out of habit, absolutely meaningless, but you had taken it so personally that you had squeezed all bottles empty and thrown them at him when he tried to stop you. You never cared that he smoked; on the contrary, you had his favorites at your place just for him. Now? You had almost gagged from him smoking after you two were together, even though he did it for months without an issue. And intimately? He didn’t know what was happening, but you were acting differently. You wouldn’t let him see you fully naked, and the few times you let him touch you, you almost started crying.

He must have been doing something very wrong, but mentioning it only resulted in you fighting or running away. Your routine was kept the next day, but every time, it chipped away at his patience, and surely, it tired you, too.

He blamed his ill temper for the way he ended up snapping at you.

“I don’t feel like it,” you voiced after he offered you a drink. “Maybe I should keep this one short. I need to go back to the Aether.”

He put down the glass inside his office liquor cabinet, not bothering to fill it, and huffed the growing annoyance. You had smiled and kissed him when you arrived, kindling his hope, only to snuff it so easily.

“Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

He turned to you, “Why are you here if you’re just going to leave?”

You scoffed, “You mean I shouldn’t have come?”

You looked instantly bitter, and he shook his head, “You should have, and you should stay. Have a drink with me, rest, and fucking talk to me.”

You laughed humorlessly, “You have to be kidding. Again with the drink bullshit?”

“It’s not bullshit.”

“It’s just a drink,” you underlined dryly.

“It’s what it means!”

You rolled your eyes, “And what does it mean?”

“That something changed!”

He slammed the liquor cabinet door closed, and you crossed your arms over your chest, “Just because I don’t want your stupid whiskey?”

The way you withdrew from him made him feel like a pet about to be abandoned. He shook his head, pale, “It’s not the whiskey. You don’t want anything! You’re always annoyed, irritated, and in a rush to leave. You don’t let me touch you or—”

“Stop, just—” You were blushing furiously, with closed fists now trembling at your sides. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“I’m calling it as I see it!”

He regretted raising his voice at you, especially when he noticed the way you were trembling. He wasn’t shouting, but still, it only made things worse. He could see it in your glistening eyes, though your whole body posture told him he fucked up.

But he didn’t understand what he did that led to this, and he wouldn’t just watch it fall apart. He did with his ex-wife. He couldn’t bring himself to care enough to do something about it. But fuck— with you, he cared. He cared more than he had ever been able to tell you or show you, and he couldn’t just watch it happen without doing something.

“I’m leaving.”

You reached to grab your purse over the couch, and it all happened so fast. His heart convulsed, his eyes watered, but most of all, his desperation pushed him to grab your arm to stop you.

You spun around, and your instinct was to pull your trusty knife on him. You were angry, hurt, and shaking, but saw the tears reflecting in his eyes. Your blade was poking his stomach, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You just couldn’t think clearly; you needed to get away.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fucking stab me if you want,” his voice wavered as his hold tightened but your eyes hardened.

“I don’t need to.”

You pulled your arm loose, and he let you go. How could he not? Even though he wanted to beg you to stay and was desperate to fix things and get everything back to what it was. But he couldn’t go against your will. This was what he had always feared finally coming to fruition, and it hurt.

He stood still while he heard you tapping your heels away, praying you would turn around and give him a chance. But then the front door slammed, and he roared and saw red. He kicked and punched everything in the vicinity, ignoring the glass shards and the wood splinters flying around.

Not much survived in his office by the time he was done, and not even the pain in his knuckles and arms phased him. He fell to his knees with a plea masked as a grunt, but even then it didn’t hurt. Only his heart, beating in agony, did.

All he wanted was you, and he lost you.

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

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Little Girl Gone

You Haven't Changed a Bit (2)

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nothing really this is a rather fluff chapter, Natasha is a condescending bitch towards the end

A/N: I love the dynamics that are being built between R and W and her boys in this chapter

The sunlight filtering through the windows is what stirred you awake, but it was the weight on top of you that truly woke you. Eyes shooting open to find Wanda’s body partially on top of your own. Her leg and arm draped over you and you realized you had some how had made it closer to the middle instead of the edge you had forced yourself to when you fell asleep.

Carefully you untangled yourself hoping not to wake Wanda, but as you shifted your weight she stirred. “Mmmm....Y/N?” She called out as you sat up, legs already over the edge.

“Yes?” You call back over your shoulder, grabbing your pants and pulling them on.

“What happened last night? I thought you were staying up all night?” She asked, concern running through her.

“Natasha came by. I gave her half the money. Told her I’d meet her at noon with the rest.” Grabbing your button up and throwing it on and moving over to grab your gun from under the pillow to put it back in it’s place.

“Is she going to leave us alone?” Wanda crawls across the bed so she’s in front of you, staring up at you. She was in a cute pink slip, one of the thin straps falling down and giving you a lovely view of her chest.

“I told her too, but she never actually agreed to it so if it’s okay with you I’d like you to come back with me, of course the boys will come too.”

“To the place I was taken yesterday?” She asks, tilting her head.

“Yes sweetie that’s my home.” Her eyes widen.

“That place was huge. That’s your house?” She sounded bewildered.

“Well when you’re head of the local mafia around here you kind of have the perks of a big house.” Sure your group was nothing big compared to Natasha’s or even T’Challa’s groups, but yours was family.

You pick up your phone, calling on your friend and driver, Happy. “I’ve called for my driver and I would appreciate the three of you staying with me until I have things settled. I promise there will be no safer place for your boys.” You put your hands on her shoulders giving a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, Wanda was a beautiful woman who you’d love to have, but you also truly just don’t want to see her end up like you because of Natasha especially since she has kids. She has to be around for them. She gives a nod and a soft smile back. You don’t miss her biting on her bottom lip as she slips off the bed.

“I need to get dressed and get the boys ready.” She tells you softly. While Wanda gets everything together you get ahold of Carol to let her know what’s going on.

“Make sure nothing bad is going on by the time we get there. Am I understood?” I ask through the phone and she knows what I mean.

“Yes Ma’am. Everything will be perfect when you get here with them. You have my word.” You hang up the call as you wait in the kitchen for the three of them and of course the boys are nothing but questions.

You can tell Wanda is getting overwhelmed by all the questions the boys are throwing her way over all the sudden changes especially from Billy who you’ve quickly learned is the more sensitive of the two boys. You take a deep breath and kneel down, getting the boys attention.

“Listen boys I know you have a lot of questions for your mom, but I want you guys to look at this like a vacation! My house that we’re going to stay at for a bit has a pool with all the toys you can think of! It has a slide and a waterfall! I have a room that is filled with every video game system and just about all their games. I have a room that has a pool table and a foosball table and air hockey!” You tell them, slowly seeing their faces light up. “I have a room that’s like a movie theater with popcorn and candy and soda. I have just about everything your little hearts could want or need and if I don’t have it, guess what?”

“What?” Billy asks making me smile.

“I will make sure we get it, okay? Does that sound fair enough?” The two boys nod in agreement. “So you’re going to stop asking your mom so many questions and instead help her pack, right?” Another nod in agreement to your words as they turn towards their draws, grabbing things they want and need while Wanda gives you a smile and you smile back.

You stand up motioning for Wanda to follow while the boys pack up. You two head towards the kitchen. You lean against the counter, crossing your arms, Wanda standing opposite of you.

“I hope I didn’t overstep by saying I’d get them things if we didn’t have it. I obviously don’t have kids and I honestly just wanted them to stop asking you questions because I could see it was overwhelming you since you weren’t sure how to answer.” Wanda reached her hand out to you, her hand gripping onto your arm. She rubbed it softly as you looked at her and you could tell she had done it as a friendly gesture to reassure you it was okay, but when you felt her hand tighten on your bicep you can tell she gets distracted for a moment.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it, okay? If it’s something I find unreasonable for them to be asking it will be a no. Make sure they always ask me and you get confirmation from me.”

“That sounds like a deal to me. Always ask Mom.” You smirk at her as she pulls back her hand.

“I-I’m going to go grab my bags and check on the boys.” She stammers as she heads back upstairs, leaving you there chuckling to yourself.

======================================================

“Wow!” The boys said in unison as they came through the front door. “Are you made of money Ms. Y/N?” Tommy asks.

“I work very hard for my money Tommy. This is what hard work can get you boys.” You tell them with a smile as they poke their heads around Carol comes over with a smile along with Kamala. Carol leans over whispering in your ear,

“Ma’am I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good time, but Maya is waiting in your office.” If the boys weren’t here you’d probably smack Carol so hard. Instead you plaster a smile on your face.

“Well boys, Wanda. I have to attend to some work issues, but Carol and Kamala here will show you around, okay?” The boys nod excitedly and Wanda takes the few steps over to you, a worried look in her eyes as she grips your arm. You give her a reassuring smile, leaning in to whisper,

“It’s nothing to do with Natasha. It’s a friend who doesn’t know what no means. I’ll be back shortly. I promise you’re safe with them.” She looks into your eyes confirming the truth in your words then nods, letting you go off to deal with the problem at hand as you head up to your office.

You open and close the sliding oak doors of your office stomping on the floor to get Maya’s attention as soon as she’s looking at you you sign,

“It really isn’t a good time Maya.” She rolls her eyes and signs back,

“I understand you met back up with Natasha.” You groan,

“Unfortunately.” Maya and you had met after being in similar situations of a mob boss taking advantage of you. Both of you wanted to be in charge so Maya tends to work in the shadows and also with the Tracksuits, she keeps them in line as much as anyone could. Mainly they’re muscle that the two of you use because they have maybe one braincell between all of them.

“So what are we doing about her?” She signs and you sit on your desk in front of her.

“Meeting up with her in a few hours and paying off a debt for this woman.” You bring up the security camera’s around the house showing Maya Wanda and her boys. “Natasha gave her a loan and then when she couldn’t pay it back right away she took Wanda and tried to do what she did to me. She’s under our protection now.” Maya nods,

“Are you keeping her here?” She signs.

“For the time being. I don’t trust Natasha.” You sigh. “Come with me to this meeting? I just need you as back up in the shadows incase things go sideways.” Maya signs for yes with a smile.

Carol was your right hand for most things, but Maya was your most trusted person. No one could replace her between her skills and companionship the two of you had formed over the past five years.

“Thank you.” You sign and she just lightly punches your arm before slipping out. Though she wouldn’t be there when you exited you knew she wouldn’t be far. Just in the shadows.

You watched the security monitors for a few minutes watching the boys enjoy the much bigger room they’d get to share. Kamala showing them their room along with all the fun rooms scattered about the house.

Your eyes flickered around until you spot Wanda and Carol in your room. It’s not where you had told Carol to take Wanda, but you’d let it slide for now. Your California King bed rather empty with just yourself. If Wanda wanted to stay there it would be fine by you.

======================================================

You sat in the café legs crossed and sipping on your usual order while looking at your phone while waiting for Natasha to show her face. You were always a person that goes by the rule, ‘if you’re on time you’re late.’ while Natasha always showed up five minutes or later to any meeting saying, ‘you hold the power that way.’ It always made you roll your eyes because you hated being late anywhere.

When she showed up at 12:15 you rolled your eyes at the tardiness. She grabbed her coffee before joining you.

“Well isn’t this fun. You playing the boss roll. All grown up now aren’t you?” She teases and another roll of your eyes.

“I’m not playing Natasha. I worked hard to get here.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you. I didn’t want this Natasha. You forced me into this life acting like you just wanted me to be able to protect myself.” You accused as you grabbed out the manila folder. “It’s all in there Tasha. So I need your word that you’ll be leaving Wanda Maximoff and her boys alone now that the loan plus interest is paid.” Natasha looked it through just as she had last night.

“One more thing and I’ll leave your new little toy alone.” You want to jump across the table and punch her in the face for her little comment, but you’re in a very public place for a reason and you won’t ever be the one to hit first.

“What is it Natasha? What could you possibly want?” You ask exasperated.

“You of course. One last time. You know since you walked out on me.” You feel your face pale; your whole body going hot and ears ring until you can’t hear anymore.

Did she really just ask you that? To sleep with her again? You could feel the familiar feel of bile in the back of your throat, the sound of a gunshot, the metal and sulfur in your nose like you were reliving that night all over again.

“You’ll leave them alone?” She nods. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“On Yelena’s life.”

“On Yelena’s life.” She repeats, and so you have no choice but to agree.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #ley writes #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader

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bigtreefest · 8 months ago

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Chapter 4: Under Pressure

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: Bucky’s been weird since that night at the bar, but will a taste of danger at the farm bring him back to his senses?

Word count: 5,468

Content/warnings: Avoidance/masking of feelings, consumption and mention of alcohol, mutual pining, omg Cole is such a jerk, use of pet names, use of y/n, a little angst especially at the end, mentions of bullying, vulnerability

Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. There was a lot I wanted to include, and so much that made it in here that I hadn’t even intended originally. Happy reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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The rest of the weekend had been generally uneventful. You worked on the books and finances for the farm while Curtis did chores on Saturday and hung out with a book of your own on Sunday.

Bucky had become scarce. You had hardly seen him since Friday night besides mealtimes. Other than that, he was in his room, outside on the gravel talking to Steve over the phone, or shadowing Curtis to relearn how to do the tasks a sixth time.

You admired his work ethic and dedication to your agreement, but couldn’t help but feel that he was avoiding you. Was it something you said? Was he angry? To be honest, your memory seemed pretty clear. The last thing you remember was being grateful that he was there to help you get rid of Cole, and then waking up in bed to medicine and a glass of water on your nightstand. Not much could’ve happened in that small gap, right?

Wrong. Bucky had been consumed by the thought of you since that night. Every moment he went back to it, the nerves in his fingers burned all the way up to his shoulders with the thought of your touch. His gut felt tingly in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was a young boy daunted with the task of rising to power in his organization.

Was he nervous? No. Bucky Barnes doesn’t get nervous. He just gets pensive. When things seem like they’re getting out of his hands, he takes a step back to make a plan, then muscles his way through until he gets what he wants. He was used to using that same strategy to tamper down every emotion he felt except pride, and was well-practiced at that, so why did it all come crumbling from the simple act of you on his arm? Or was it the fact that he wished you taking his hat and putting it on your head could hold actual meaning? As soon as he identified his feelings, he called Steve.

“Whaddup, Buck? Not much has changed around here since last night, so I assume something has changed on your end?”

Bucky sighed. Why did he call in the first place? The last thing he wanted to do was acknowledge this… ~feeling~ by doing it the dignity of speaking it out loud. That made it real. “Um, no, not really. Just wanted to check in. I’ve got the day off.”

Steve paused on the other side of the line. “Okay….are you sure about that? Because you don’t seem very sure about that. Was everything okay at the bar? You didn’t get into a fight, did you?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up and he sighed in relief. “Oh, no, yeah, I’m sure. And I definitely did not get in a fight last night, some guy came up and was hitting on Y/N while I was out on the phone with you, so she wanted to head out right after.”

Bucky was satisfied with his well-formulated response until his best friend spoke up again. “Ah, so this is about your feelings for her, right? You were jealous?”

Bucky froze. “Pshhh….uh, no. Definitely not. She was very obviously not interested in him so we left.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Bucky could hear the deadpan in Steve’s voice. “I don’t care whether she was interested in him or not, I care about how her talking to some handsome stranger made you feel.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Steven, I’m going to be honest with you and I do not want you to say a word of this to anyone, or else.”

Steve poorly hid a smile in his voice. “Okay, Bucket. Floor is yours.”

“First of all, he was not that handsome. Based off her reaction, he was probably a scumbag in a Carhartt jacket that has never seen a day of actual work, but that’s besides the point….Yes…. Seeing her talking to that guy, and talking to her about her ex made me feel…things, but that wasn’t all of it….” The next words came out as a mumble. “She put my hat on her head and her head on my shoulder when I drove her home….andiwisheditwasreal.”

Steve was full-blown laughing now, so much was going on in that statement. Since when did Bucky care about work clothes and people’s worthiness of them? At least he was being honest. “Sorry Buck, missed that last part. Care to repeat?”

“Oh you know exactly what I said.” He spat back.

“Okay, okay. So what are you gonna do about it then? You’ve still got three more weeks out there. From what I can see, you’ve got a few opti-“

“Nothing.” Bucky cut him off. “I’m going to do nothing. I can’t play into her charm anymore. I’m just going to stay away and put my head down and-“

“Bucky stop. Slow down.” Steve cut him off in return to stop the spiral. “Your solution to everything can’t be to ice it out until freezes and shatters. Let’s look at this for a second. You care for her, so why can’t you stay friends? You obviously get along well, and I’m not just saying this from a personal standpoint, I’m saying this from a business standpoint. She very evidently knows how to deal with people and looking at the books, her finances are exceptional considering it’s a relatively small farm operation.”

“Okay, first off, of course I can ice her out. I need to show who’s in charge and this has worked with other associates before. And second off, what are you seeing in her finances?” Bucky huffed.

“Buck, she could buy your house. Somehow she’s invested so well that she doesn’t need our business deal, but she took it anyway. Makes me wonder why. Someone doing something like that doesn’t deserve ice, maybe you should try a little sweetness. I mean, I know you think everyone’s a sucker for that tough exterior of yours.” Steve’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “But you know what they say: you catch more bees with honey…. However, that sting on your face shows you can catch a bee just by standing there, so I’m not sure how fair that analogy is.” Steve let out a hearty chuckle at his own joke as a scowl crawled onto Bucky’s face.

“Ha ha ha, very funny, but we’re doing this my way. I’ll figure it out. I just have to last three more weeks.”

Steve sighed and replied with evident disappointment and a hint of frustration in his voice. “Okay, whatever you say, you’re the boss. I’ll call you later with a new update, Bucket.”

Bucky rolled his eyes in response. “Ugh, why do I still tell you everything when you use it against me like this?”

“That’s platonic love, my friend. Someone’s gotta hold you accountable and know you won’t punch them in the face for it.” And with that, Steve hung up and left Bucky looking up at the clear, blue sky.

Although Steve’s words and accusations stuck in his head, Bucky decided he wanted to muscle through this deal on his own. All he really needed to do was stay away from you and put in the work, and that would make it easier, right? He would simply do what he came here to do, nothing more, nothing less. If only Bucky could hear Steve’s grumble “why does he even tell me about this stuff if he won’t even take my advice?” that was said after every phone call.

You woke up to the first rooster crow on Monday morning. By the time you had gotten dressed and walked down the creaky stairs, you saw your breakfast plate made and sitting on the counter and a mug of coffee that had already cooled down to a more than drinkable temperature.

You peeked in the dishwasher to see a set of dishes had already been placed in there. Bucky must’ve already eaten and gone out for the day. He probably wanted to get a jump start on his work. At least he knew what he was doing.

The real reason he was up and going already that you hadn’t known? He couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned all night thinking about what Steve had said and honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Couldn’t bring himself to mess up more in your presence and be saved and comforted by your seemingly bottomless grace. The solution was to do the work in pensive silence, as far from you as possible, so he could mess up and fix it on his own without the thought of your kind, yet penetrating, gaze. He was getting too close for comfort. The only solution was to pull away.

This continued for the next three days. Wake up before you. Make breakfast. Get a jump start on chores. Mess up on chores (as you secretly watched from the tractor, or the hay loft). Fix the mistakes. Carry on with his head down. Come home. Make dinner. Trap himself in his room. Go to bed. Start again.

Some notable moments that you’d caught unbeknownst to him: Bucky’s galoshes getting stuck in the mud of the pig pen, followed by him having to step out of the still-stuck boots, continue to walk to pour the feed in the trough while losing both socks as well, then returning to dig out the boots. At least half a dozen goat head-butts while trying to grab the babies to take them to the separate feeding area. The mommas were not happy with Bucky’s insistence on taking their kids, and they showed him by knocking him repeatedly into the white-painted fences. Bucky responded with an oof and him rubbing the affected area, returning a glower to the seemingly now unbothered mothers. Bucky losing sheep, but not knowing how to command your dog to corral them, thus having to run and herd them himself, surprisingly more efficiently each time it happened, you might add.

You were proud of Bucky for his work ethic. If he had put half this effort into his business dealings, you could see how he rose to the top so quickly. He wasn’t the only one who did research on whom they were dealing with.

He was stubborn and wanted things right, but didn’t let a lack of perfection stop him from completing the tasks. However, at some point, it looked like he was beating himself up. Like he was self-punishing for something you couldn’t quite identify, so you called Curtis to help at the farm so you could figure it out. Come Thursday afternoon, you handed off your chores to him and went back to the house early in hopes of catching Bucky. You were half way through dinner when the front door opened, the mud-covered mob boss in well-fitting farm clothes crossing the threshold.

You looked him up and down, doing your best to hold in a laugh at the disheveled appearance. “Well howdy. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. Figured you’ve been working so hard, it’s my turn to help you out some.”

Bucky was taken aback by seeing you in the kitchen, not only had he purposely been avoiding you and planned to get in the house before you even considered dinner, but you just looked so relaxed. Something about that stoked an ember in him he’d tried hard to snuff out. You were wearing a t-shirt and your hair was pulled up off your shoulders, almost like any other day, but your features didn’t have their usual determined focus. They were at ease, which was in total juxtaposition with Bucky’s swirl of anxiousness rising in his gut.

Bucky looked at you with wide eyes and pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Um, I thought you were still out in the field. Saw the tractor turning the hay over.” He swallowed thickly.

You leaned to peek around him. “Ah, yes. That’s Curtis. Called him in today to help me finish up so you and I could talk about a few things. Go ahead and wash up. By the time you’re done, this should all be ready.”

All he could do was nod in response as he slowly made his way up the steps, mind racing with everything you could possibly say. Did you know how he felt? Did he do something wrong? Were you going to cut the deal? He could only hope the warm water would wash his worries away, along with the mud.

Bucky came back down to a homey aroma that wrapped him in comfort. That much was consistent every time he saw you. Your existence provided him a blanket of relief, despite the way he knew he should still be holding onto anticipation for what you might say. You were sitting at the head of the table flanked by Curtis, the both of you reading though some papers.

“Hey, Bucket, just in time.” Curtis greeted him, as Bucky took the seat across from him at the table, flanking your other side. You all started to dig into the food as you set the papers down on the table for Bucky to read them. It was a headline that read: TURNing the Tables: The Road to an Empire.

“What is this?” He looked up from his plate and directly into your eyes for the first time in days.

“Well, we haven’t gotten to talk about this yet, but remember that guy who we ran away from at the bar? This is him.” Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together, he knew the look of disdain on your face made sense, but still felt like he was missing something.

Curtis cleared his throat after taking a sip of tea and spoke up. “Forgot you didn’t grow up with us. Allow me to explain.” He looked to your eyes and you nodded in approval of his continuance. “In school, I was a few years older than Y/N here. Back then, there were a bunch of farmers around town, each with their own little niche, and a lotta nice farm kids who were in our classes. Except Cole. He grew up a little awkward kid, but once he hit puberty, he became the cockiest thing in town. Didn’t even care to know those other kids anymore, just bullied them. It didn’t help that it was around the same time his parents started buying out all the other small farms here, turning their small dairy operation into a much larger-scale distributor. Little too big for their britches, if you ask me.” Curtis mumbled that last part as he rolled his eyes and shoveled another fork full of food into his mouth.

Bucky nodded in acknowledgement, but still harbored some confusion in how this all tied together. “So why was it crazy to run into him at the bar if he’s from around here? And what’s the deal with him making you so uncomfortable. Like, I get it, he’s a prick, but you were running out of there. You hardly budged for me, so there’s no way he can be that intimidating to you.”

Curtis’s eyes narrowed slightly and his brows furrowed at that statement, but he let it go for now. He swallowed down another bite of food and looked at you again. Your mouth was slightly agape, debating the best way to move forward. “I didn’t look like this in high school, or throughout any schooling for that matter, so he didn’t recognize me when we ran into each other at the bar. Frankly, I hardly recognized him. And come to think of it, he didn’t even ask my name Friday night, so that goes to show what a trash bag he really is. But this is a good thing, because I think we’d be in a way bigger mess if he did remember me. It’s a long story, and I think we’ll have to go back even farther.” You took a sip of your water before setting down your silverware and leaning forward on your elbows on the table.

“Like Curtis said, Cole didn’t get along with anyone, especially Jake. In school he’d constantly push him around, so Curtis would come to his defense, even though I probably could’ve taken Cole myself.” You let out a small airy chuckle and Curtis smiled back at you, shaking his head. “But anyway, after every time Cole started a fight and Curtis finished it, he’d look at me with this big, almost mischievous grin. So honestly, I’m glad I didn’t play into getting close to him by personally defending Jake.”

Bucky continued nodding along. You seemed so unproblematic. Why were you in the middle of this? “So he didn’t recognize you at the bar, and again, he’s from around here. What’s the big deal?”

You sighed, having to explain more small-town politics to Bucky, who very evidently didn’t understand the delicate nature of places outside the city. “He’s not really from around here anymore. His farm still is, but it’s one of many now. After school, he went to get some fancy business degree from who knows where. What I’m truly concerned about is what he said to me at the bar. He’s here to squash the one thing Curtis and I, and frankly this town, have left.” Curtis rubbed your shoulder reassuringly and you rubbed your eyes in frustration. Bucky felt that same pang in his lower stomach again, seeing how close you and Curtis were and how that dumb little milk man had you this upset. You looked at Curtis gratefully and continued.

“My mom’s brother and Curtis’s dad’s sister used to run this farm back when Cole still lived here. When they passed, they left it to us, but Curtis’s dad also left the shop, which is why I mostly run things around here. But the thing is, anyone who hasn’t been to town since back then, doesn’t know that. The last name tied to this farm doesn’t apply to either of us.” Oh, so you and Curtis were second cousins? Explains a lot. Bucky hated himself that all he could think was ‘one more man who’s close to you he can check off as not being a threat.’ He really needed to get himself in check. Once he pushed those thoughts back down is when everything finally clicked.

Cole was back in town. He had a history with you. He’s got a bad track record in general. He said he wanted to squash competition. You were that competition. He didn’t know you were that competition. You had no idea where to go from here.

Before Bucky could open his mouth for his next round of clarification questions, there was a knock on the door. The three of you were so enthralled in conversation that no one heard the wheels crunching through the gravel in the driveway. You exchanged glances with the men on either side of you. A random visitor out here wasn’t too out of the ordinary, considering how much the community depended on you, but the conversation topic had you on edge. It was for good reason, because as you opened the door, leaving the screen in place, you were met with a face that had started to haunt your dreams these past few days: Cole.

He was wearing that sickening smile again, looking down at you. “Hiya, Peach. It’s been a minute.” You crossed your arms and looked at the man standing on your porch, a plastic smile glued to your face.

Bucky and Curtis shuffled behind you. Curtis shoved the papers and articles at Bucky to take somewhere else so Cole wouldn’t see them, while he made his way to your shoulder, his large stature holding every intention to intimidate Cole.

“Ah yes, your guard dog Curtis, great to see ya, buddy.” Curtis gave a death glare of acknowledgement, stance unyielding.

“Sorry I didn’t recognize you at the bar, you’ve all changed so much, including your pal, Jakey. He’s the one who so kindly told me my family missed this farm while we were on the rise. As soon as mom and pop gave me the reins, I knew I had to stop over, didn’t realize you were the one running things now.” You did your best to keep your face level.

“So what can I help you with, Cole? Are you lost? Need directions on a map? I’m a whiz at that. Happy to print one out for you.”

If it was even possible, his troubling smirk became wider. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? I’d love to talk business. Maybe over dinner? Smells delicious.”

You scrunched your nose, keeping the fake smile on your face. “Unfortunately, it’s all gone. Maybe next time. How about you and me mosey over to the office. It’s been too long. I’ve got some mints in there. Maybe those can tide you over.”

“Too long, indeed.” He ignored the rest of your statement, but Bucky didn’t. He’d never heard you say something that rude before. Someone like Cole might have been none the wiser, but those were loaded words that he knew you said with intention. How could he blame you, though. The man in the fake work clothes had invited himself in unannounced. Not even Bucky did that to you. The same couldn’t be said for his actions with other associates, but one thing he knew was that you were deserving of all the respect in the world. Respect Cole was not giving you. Cole nodded to the two men and followed you down the hall, not bothering to take off his shoes and add them to the files of boots by the door. Another mark in Bucky’s mind. You closed the door you’d held open behind him after giving a wide-eyed look to your two confidants whose eyes followed the whole thing.

Bucky scrambled to clean up the dinner plates and pack away the leftovers. It was smart of you to not offer Cole anything. He didn’t need any reason to stick around longer than you wanted him to. Bucky knew a thing or two about business dealings with enemies, and he was usually much cooler than this, but the fact he could tell you were freaking out, freaked him out.

He still hadn’t dealt with his emotions for you, and your earnestness not even half an hour ago had made it worse. So he did what he always does when he’s not sure and needs a wall to talk at: he called Steve.

Steve picked up in a surprisingly good mood. “Hey Buck, what can I do ya for.”

“I need to you gather everything you can on Cole Turner.” He frantically spat out. Steve grew serious to mirror his best friend’s tone. “And…” Bucky lowered his phone for a second and looked at Curtis. “What’s Jake’s last name.”

Curtis looked at him skeptically. “Jenson. Jacob Jensen.” Bucky nodded his head in thanks and lifted the phone back up to his ear.

“Did you get that?…Yeah, put our best guys on it. Ok, call me later tonight when you know. Doesn’t matter the time. Bye.”

Bucky lowered the phone and looked at Curtis who had just finished wiping down the counters. Curtis had his arms crossed and was leaned up against the kitchen island, opposite Bucky. “So you wanna tell me who exactly you are? Why you’ve got people who you can seemingly throw commands at for immediate attention? And why you care so much about this little farm that you’re only working at for a month?”

Bucky sighed and put his hands on the counter, pushing his body away from it, hinged at the hips, and hanging his head in between his arms. He stood up and quickly looked at Curtis straight in the eyes. “I think you know. I think you know the answers to all those questions, but I think you should also know, I care enough to be on your side.”

Curtis leaned in towards Bucky, his frame shadowing the mob boss’s in the evening light. For the first time in awhile, Bucky was intimidated. He knew how much Curtis cared for you, and he knew how hard he’d be pummeled if he messed up, whether Bucky used his combat training or not. He mustered up as much confidence as he could to rebuild his demeanor to face your Cousin. “You know I care, and I think all that matters is that I’m using my resources to make sure your cousin’s farm is okay and stays in her hands. You know I’m here to do business, but this is bigger than me and I see that now. I’m someone with power, and not unearned power like that prick in the other room. So I’m someone who uses that power in your best interest. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Curtis nodded in acceptance of Bucky’s answer. He could respect that logic, and the way Bucky held his cards close to his chest, because at the end of the day, at the core of Bucky’s motivations was your well-being. No matter how much he thought he could put a veil over it, Curtis saw through.

“Well, Bucky, I won’t doubt you then, but you better hold true and honest, for your own sake and for hers. And I hope to hear more of your other ‘business ventures’ later down the road, but for now, I think our girl needs us.” Bucky nodded along in agreement.

“I don’t think there’s much else I can do right now while I wait for that intel to get back. You got anything?”

Curtis grinned and gave a small shrug. “I can think of one thing. Go up in that top cabinet above the fridge. We’ve got a bottle of the good stuff. She’s gonna need it once we can get the slime ball to slide outta here.”

Bucky’s shoulder’s bounced with a small laugh as he pulled down the bottle. “Let’s get cracking then.”

It was another half hour before Cole emerged from your office and looked cockily at the two men chatting in your kitchen. You followed closely behind, doing your best to subtly corral him out of the house.

“I hope you’ll consider my offer. Actually, I know you will. Over dinner next time.” He smirked back at you over his shoulder. You escorted him out the door as politely as you could, draining your last bit of energy. You closed and locked the front door, which rarely was so, and peeked through the window until he was gone.

You turned around to look at the two of them as your shoulders slumped. You dragged your feet over to the island where Curtis and Bucky were leaning leisurely, grateful Curtis knew exactly what you needed as he slid the filled shot glass toward you.

You grabbed it and threw it back, slamming it back down on the butcher block counter top as Curtis moved to refill it. “How many do I have to catch up on?”

“Only two.” Curtis replied as he slid the shot glass back over to you again.

“Let’s make it three.” You choked out after you attempted to swallow down the burn of the second shot.

“Bucket, can you please make us some water bottles? I’ve gotta get out of this house. We’re going for a walk.”

“Yeah, okay, Honey. Only on the condition that you put my boots on me for the walk. My hammies are sore from being your little chore boy.” He replied as he reached into the cabinet to grab the bottles.

He smiled to himself when he heard your giggle. He’d normally never complain that openly and ridiculously, but you gave him the reaction he was hoping for. Anything to make sure the life wasn’t totally sucked out of you by Cole.

“Your negotiations are no good here. You put your own boots on and take your own boots off unless you’re married. My house, my rules. But tell ya what, I’ll let you have another shot of this small-batch bourbon with me and Curty boi. That’s more than payment enough.” You winked at him as he handed you the water bottle. The three of you taking the last shot and heading out the door, making your way towards the back of the property.

It was an easy walk through level fields, just long. The three of you fell into easy conversation about anything other than Cole, insisting you’d debrief them tomorrow, so the conversation mainly consisted of teasing Curtis about the new girl and her truck he had to fix last week. The comfortable silences otherwise were filled with the sound of the crickets chirping. You found comfort in the caress of the warm, humid breeze that blew through as you walked towards the hills where the old mines of the property resided.

Once you reached the entrance, you turned around and faced the two large men. “Buck, you’ve been working really hard this week, so I think it’s time I showed you what you’re working toward. Figured it would be a nice change of pace for us to take a look at this tunnel tonight, and we can start scheduling some time in for us to fix up the scaffolding and supports.”

Bucky nodded, looking at you with a grin on his face while Curtis clicked on his flashlight. “I’m honestly curious to see what’s going on in there. I don’t think we’ve ventured in since we were teenagers.” His voice echoed through the mouth of the mine.

You led the way, turning on your own flashlight, scanning the dirt walls and old, wooden supports. “Yeah, it’s been awhile, but I think you could work with this, right, Bucket? This tunnel specifically doesn’t have an outlet like the connecting network in some of the others, so it would be mostly storage. You could probably send some underlings out here to help you out.”

You both laughed as Bucky walked closer to the wall, examining one of the support beams. “Yeah, I mean, I own a construction company, so that shouldn’t be a worry at all.”

That caught Curtis’s attention as he stopped to give a side glance toward Bucky. You continued on ahead unfazed as Bucky kicked the wooden beam in front of him to test its integrity. It crumbled slightly at the toe of his boot. Underwhelmed with the scale of the break, the two men made a move to step forward when they heard a rumbling, followed by the beam Bucky had kicked crashing down in front of them. Pebbles shifted and fell out of the ceiling, followed by larger rocks and before they could blink, the tunnel buckled creating a wall of sand and stone between you and them.

All Bucky could hear was your muffled scream on the other end. I’m okay, just get me out of here. He was going into panic mode, but a plan still was racing though his brain as he made every attempt to mash it together into something coherent. Through the ringing in his ears he heard Curtis yell. “We have to call the police, the fire department, someone to get her out of there. She might not be injured now, but I can’t say the same if there’s a secondary collapse. We need to do something. Now.”

Bucky grabbed him by his collar. “No. No police. It’ll ruin everything.”

Curtis put his hands up in surrender. “Okay then, what do you suppose we do, big guy?”

Bucky paced back and forth, biting his thumbnail with worry. “Gimme a second. I’m figuring it out.” He stopped in his tracks. “Who all knows about the mines?”

“What? What does that ha-“

Bucky cut Curtis off. “Who. All. Knows?”

Curtis shook his head and shrugged. “I-I don’t know, not many people. Me and her, her college roommate, and Jake. That’s it, I think.”

Bucky rapidly reached into the pocket of his jeans and handed Curtis a card from his wallet. “This is my associate Sam. You’re going to call him and tell him those names. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Curtis immediately pulled out his phone, trusting the judgement of his new friend. Bucky did the same, calling Steve. It was time to send backup to the farm. He could have his men out here tonight, and your friends by at least the morning, sending his private jet to retrieve them.

He needed you out of that tunnel like he needed to breathe, mostly because if he didn’t get you out of there within a day, you wouldn’t be able to.

Next >

Bonus A/N: so much going on!! What will happen next? Who was the girl whose truck Curtis had to fix??

Thank you so much for reading!! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are soooo appreciated. Lmk if you’d like to be added to any of my tag lists. Love you!

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bridgetoesoteria · 10 months ago

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🖤Breaking baddie🖤: Describing your 'dark feminine' energy. How to channel it?

Hola malacitas 😘 (i hope that actually made sense lol).

First things first, what is "dark feminine" energy?

Yes, this is the **first website that comes up when you google "dark feminine," but it is pretty thorough and comprehensive! I liked it the most out of all the others. The others either repeated the same points or had too many outdated/black-or-white views. Feel free to do your own research however. There are plenty of videos on YouTube as well. **One caveat...when you get to the part about tapping into DF energy, I disagree with #8 (specifically).

(We're going to keep this post light and I'll dedicate a separate post to my personal viewpoints.)

So I will be telling you all about your personal DF "archetype." I will also provide guidance on how you channel your DF energy.

I am so so excited for this! Eek 🙊 Okay, options below, left to right. I hope it resonates!

I am using a few different decks. I won't be adding pictures but I will provide what cards I drew.

Pile 1

Off the bat: I am hearing "no fuss" and also "ruthless," which is interesting considering the image you chose. I was also hearing the lyrics "all I do is win, win, win no matter what." So I'm getting some really bad ass energy right away! Come thru mob girlies!

4-Card Spread: 4 of Diamonds, 8 of Diamonds, 7 of Hearts, Joker. Bottom of deck is 6 of Clubs.

It's funny you have the 6 of Clubs (wands) on the bottom of the deck. I was hearing those lyrics about winning. This is a card that signifies victory and public recognition or celebration. I feel like the DF side of you is really bad ass! I'm also getting a pinch of "lover girl" energy. Its kind of like you have perfect formula sugar+sheist+everything nice! lol

This energy isn't afraid to be in the spotlight but is also quite comfortable in the shadows. You may be (or this is what other people think) the type to use underhanded to get ahead. Its not personal but you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm also getting an energy of it is easy for people (I'm hearing "dudes" so maybe some of you talk like that) to get attached and feel led on. But I think you are married to the hustle.

Some of you may not regularly reside in this energy and could be put off by the description. But that is exactly why its dark feminine energy. It pokes and antagonizes the status quo, which is where most of us reside from day to day. Traditionally, feminines are not painted as cunning, street-wise, heartbreakers. Your DF energy pushes back against those constraints placed on feminines that require prioritizing the group over self. Not that anyone asked but I think that's actually kind of amazing.

Of course you don't have to reside in this energy and adopt some toxic alter ego, but there probably are some gems hidden here. People who move like this are usually made, not born. In some way, they learned that survival=competition, so you learn to "stay ready so you don't have to get ready." Your motto as a DF would be "every (wo)man for themselves," making betrayals feel less personal because...well it just isn't, as crazy as that sounds.

Advice: The Devil, Queen of Swords, King of Wands, The Star. Bottom of deck is 7 of Swords + Mute (Oracle)

I'm getting a strong message about speaking up. I am using Tarot de Carlotydes and in this deck the 7 of Swords is depicted as a sword swallower. Which I always interpret as "swallowing" the truth. Then as I was focusing on this group's image, I realized the cabinet behind her is full of skulls, reminding me of "skeletons in the closet." Then finally we have a literal Mute card:

The Mute is told what to hear, say and think and is often suppressed. Sometimes breaking the chains against heeded words may be rewarded.

So you currently may be the complete opposite of your DF energy. One of the keywords for the Mute is "insecurities." I feel like a lot of you are sleeping on yourselves. 🔊AND ITS TIME TO WAKE THE F UP!

Maybe you are trapped in your light feminine energy. I say trapped because it feels like you are forced into that box. Super passive, loss of control. Where your DF energy would insist on speaking up and standing out, you may just keep your head down and avoid any trouble.

I'm hearing specifically that some of you love writing poetry but may have someone who discourages you from pursuing this interest. You may want to present your poetry to an audience and they tell you that no one wants to hear what you have to say. For others, they are saying no one wants to hear from you about something else.

If you are used to toxic and restrictive connections or friendships, you are being called to step out of that. Get used to asserting your boundaries, "do not speak down about my hobbies," "if you cannot allow me to think for myself, then we can not continue our relationship." I think you definitely have it in you.

Another keyword listed is "hope." I think some of you may enjoy singleness and being single-mindedly focused on you and your goals, more fulfilling than you think. It can be healing to finally feel like the star of your show.

TL;DR: Your DF energy definitely has a bit of edge to her. She does what she has to do to move ahead and she prefers to fly solo. Even if that is not where you are right now, this energy already exists within you. Once you drop the dead weight--be it toxic family, toxic friends, or a toxic partner--you will see how quickly you flourish. You have every right to speak your truth and protect your peace. Its time to peel yourself off the wallpaper and start standing out and speaking up!

Pile 2

Off the bat: I wasn't getting anything with this group. I found that strange and wondered if I wasn't "tuned in." I think this represents your mental space when you are in your DF energy. You are clear minded and have a "sober" outlook. Maybe some of you are literally sober or are considering it.

4-Card Spread: 2 of Clubs, Queen of Spades, 8 of Spades (R), Ace of Hearts/7 of diamonds. Bottom of deck is 9 of diamonds.

I am very strongly getting that there is something noteworthy about your DF's decision making abilities. Maybe that sounds "boring," but its actually pretty admirable! The world often sends the message that feminine energy does not possess strong cognitive abilities. When feminines contradict this stereotype, they can be labeled as "cold," "mean," "masculine," or met with hostility.

I'm honestly getting that the DF in you does not care. You may naturally lean more to this side in every day life. Or this is where you could be if you tapped into your DF energy more often.

You make clear decisions and keep it moving. You do not allow your thoughts to keep you tangled up in a web of confusion and indecision. Some of you could be really good at chess. I am getting that kind of energy. Calculated, self-assured, and making decisions with no intentions of taking it back.

You are quite comfortable standing on your own, and pouring into your own little world. I get the image of a woman who lives on a quiet estate, walking through her garden, with birds chirping and flying above. Have any of you watched the movie Men (2022)? I loved the imagery in that film and that's kind of the vibe I am getting now. A lot of horse girlies may have picked this pile.

I feel you being very unbothered, above drama. Your DF energy would love to find a masculine that can match your energy. You are good on your own so you won't allow anyone disruptive into your peaceful little domain. You do not make impulsive decisions in love and you are willing to wait for a new opportunity that is worth the investment. With the king of diamonds two cards under the 9 of diamonds, I do feel like this DF energy could pull the kind of masculine you desire.

Your DF energy really shines in STEM related jobs, corporate spaces, or any position that requires a sharp mind.

Advice: Ace of Swords, 10 of Swords, 4 of Wands, Knight of Cups. Bottom of deck is 10 of Wands + Spider (Oracle)

As soon as I pulled the ace of swords, I heard "get used to speaking your truth." I also heard stop entertaining "little boys." I don't think this is in terms of age, I think this referring to the maturity level of masculine energies you may usually deal with. I am in no way encouraging that you pursue anyone older. (Honestly, that does not guarantee emotional maturity or respect. But that's another convo).

I think this message is about the expectations you set for your partners. There is nothing wrong with expecting them to match you. They can either rise to the occasion or be left behind. If you hold this potential inside of you to be a queen of swords, queen of pentacles, and 9 of pentacles. Then I'm sure that energy exists out there in a suitable counterpart. The ten of wands is encouraging you to keep forging forward. I don't like preaching to be "strong" and "endure," but this is different. You are being strong for yourself. If you have to walk alone right now, it gets tough at times, but you are doing it with purpose. It will pay off.

For some this may literally require you to live alone. Its interesting that I keep getting messages about homes. I got a lot of diamonds/pentacles in the last spread, which also can deal with the home and related practical matters. "Home" is one of the keywords for Spider. The Moon is on the bottom of the deck, I think it is also relevant. This is what the guidebook has to say about each:

The Spider traps those who wander into her web. Keywords: Control, Home, Familiarity, Comfort, Trapped, Security. The Moon is not always as she seems. Her delicate glow seeks for hidden truths while blinding others to her own. Keywords: Confusion, Apprehension, Suspicion, Feelings.

You may need to be more discerning when it comes to who you let into your home and/or your heart. You might need to create a little confusion when it comes to what your next move is. Everyone does not deserve your energy or to be held on to.

Spiders can also be associated with anxiety. In regular tarot, I do consider the moon to be a card that can speak about mental health. So some of you may need to make these changes for your own sanity, literally.

TL;DR: Your DF energy is a very strong and self-sufficient queen of swords type. She thinks clearly, can make decisions without questioning herself, and always stands on business. She has high standards for those who come around her because she has built a beautiful life for herself and will vet anyone who wants to join. This self-respect and authenticity helps to attract a suitable mate. One who can match this go-getter, no bs energy. The key to channeling this energy is to start living in it now. Trust your decision making abilities, don't announce or seek validation before you make a necessary personal decision. Staying true to yourself and becoming more independent will pay off.

Pile 3

Off the bat: When I looked at the image for your pile, I immediately heard "I'm not one of those/your little girls." So whew! We are coming in hot! Also hearing "I wish a b---- would."

4-Card Spread: 7 of Hearts, Jack of Clubs, 2 of Clubs, Joker. Bottom of deck is 5 of Hearts.

I am getting more light-hearted energy in this pile than the previous two. Maybe a lot of young, or young-at-heart, people have chosen this pile. This DF energy could easily pull many suitors but she views lovers as more of a "fun time," not so much a "long time." You could also be a little toxic toward lovers. Makeup to breakup, or honestly sometimes its just breakup lol.

This energy is quite fiery and uninhibited. Some of you could be fire signs, specifically Sagittarius. Or I am getting that because of what Sag represents: free spiritedness, adventure, luck. No wonder this DF energy resists being tied down. The world is literally your oyster and you knows it!

This DF energy is also a little scrappy. Have any of you watched the Bad Girls Club? You know how there would be that one person who has a temper, then gets a little too messed up when they go clubbing and ends up wanting to fight everyone... When you see red, people need to clear your path! I do get a bit of a party girl energy which is not surprising considering I was picking up on Sag.

This DF does not have a problem fulfilling her emotional needs. You will always make sure your cup is full. You will always make sure you are having a good time. You realizes that you have this amazing, fortunate energy and unapologetically harnesses it to get the most out of life. I think your DF self is also likely to be single and happy that way. Picking yourself up after disappointments in love is no problem because there are plenty more where they came from. You have an abundant mindset when it comes to love and life.

Advice: Queen of Wands, The Hanged Man, Ace of Swords, 5 of Cups. Bottom of deck is 5 of Swords + Ghost (Oracle)

In order to channel this DF energy, some of you may literally have to ghost someone. I am not surprised the energy of having to cut people off has been coming up. Sometimes the company we keep can really hinder our growth and self-expression. The hanged man is about surrender and next to the ace of swords, I sometimes see this combo as maintaining no contact. Ghost could also be taken literally.

But I think Ghost is also talking about a tendency toward self sabotaging and shrinking yourself. This is the total opposite of the DF energy that I just channeled. Its like the past and your insecurities have a tendency to haunt you and keep you stuck. You may also try to make yourself invisible. In the guidebook, the word forgotten repeats itself twice for this card:

The Ghost lingers, forlorn and forgotten. Keywords: Hidden, Mystery, Forgotten, Spiritual Matters, Fears, Faith

You will need to work on your self-confidence. When you are more confident in yourself, you will be more confident in your decision making abilities. You will be more authentic with the way you present yourself to the world because it won't matter whether people approve or disapprove. You know who you are. With the 5 of cups, there could be something that you are still grieving or regretting but you can bounce back from this! Channel your inner phoenix and allow yourself to blossom. Its time to reinvent yourself!

Be open to all the great things life has to offer you. Guided meditations for gratitude and self-confidence/self-love could be very beneficial. Trust that the flow of life is always leading you to something wonderful. Trust that you are allowed to call the shots in your reality. Do your part then trust and let go.

TL;DR: Your DF energy is very spicy! She is popular and free-spirited. She knows that life has so many different adventures to offer and she does not let anything stop her from exploring them. This DF is likely to be single or somewhat noncommittal. She does not mind flying solo and knows she can always find another mate. She is also quite lucky and manifests fortunate events with ease. To channel this energy you will need to drop any dead weight and increase your confidence in yourself and your decision making abilities. You could benefit from some form of self-help resources like books and guided meditations. And if it is accessible to you, therapy, support groups, or other resources that will help your create a stronger you.

Pile 4

Off the bat: I am getting a pretty serious energy. Some domme energy or you could just be a pretty dominant woman. This could be describing you or your DF energy. I keep hearing strawberries and champagne. Is that even a real thing? I've never met anyone who enjoyed that combo.

4-Card Spread: 4 of Clubs, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, and Ace of Spades. Bottom of deck is Queen of Spades

I am still getting some of that super assertive and stern feminine energy. I could see your DF self working being a principal. I am also hearing headmaster/headmistress. I think she would love working with children but not in the traditional, mushy-gushy light feminine way. Its more of a "I have/enforce rules because I love you" type of energy . You believe in structure and order. If this isn't working with children, this could also apply to raising children. I could also see this DF running an orphanage. I did hear "rule the roost" while I was shuffling, so no matter how this resonates, you definitely are not afraid to lead.

You are generous and wise. Beneath the stern exterior is a lot of love and compassion. Your soft spots are not visible until you take a closer look at what you invest your time and energy into. This kind of energy could also attract less mature suitors, because it intimidates them yet they are so infatuated. You carry yourself with grace and probably won't entertain them. You are much more suited to be their mentor than anything.

Going back to the original domme energy I was getting. You may actually prefer partnerships that allow you to wear the pants. You don't really want a masculine energy coming in and dictating to you. You can run your own life just fine and would rather partner up with someone who can understand that. I don't think you want someone that is "weak" either, its more like you desire the cliche of the masculine that calls the shots in the board room but is more submissive/passive at home. They are secure enough to be with a feminine energy as strong as them.

Some of you as DF would be comfortable living a "nontraditional" life. Nontraditional as far as feminine energy is concerned anyway. You may prefer live-in partners, or life partners, over traditional marriage. You could identify with being poly or something similar. You would love to travel and always seek to broaden your horizons. This is the type of person you would expect to have "summer homes." You could also decide to not have children or you would want to wait on having/adopting children. You love living authentically because of how freeing it is to just be you. You don't care what outsiders think of your life because you know you are doing what works best for you.

Advice: 3 of Swords, 5 of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, Queen of Wands (R). Bottom of deck is The Devil + Soil (Oracle)

To channel this DF energy more, you will need to master the art of not giving a shit. Some of you could be currently suppressing this energy. I really don't think its that far out of reach for all of you. Its just your fear that is keeping you trapped.

For some of you this trapped feeling is because you are in the closet. I am not telling you to come out because I don't know how that would impact your life. I want you to stay safe! However, maybe you can seek out queer friendly spaces. Or spaces that are supportive of whatever group you identify with.

There could also be a heartbreak that has left you questioning yourself. In the Tarot de Carlotydes, the 9 of swords is depicted as a woman chained in a dark room, with a flower in her hand and broken heart drawn on a piece of paper. I always see this card as being tortured over a disappointment. In this particular deck, I see as a mental prison that you feel trapped in because you are clinging to and rehashing an event. Holding onto this event keeps the pain fresh or recurring. It is time to release it.

Do not internalize other people's actions and shortcomings. It is not a reflection of you. You are who you decide to be. Do not dim your shine for anyone. Do not stunt your growth either. I'm not sure what it is that is holding you back but you have the potential to be the brightest star! You can be strong, and confident, and assertive. There is this little ball of power inside of you, that can grow if you allow it. Soil echoes the same message I am seeing in tarot. You must let yourself bloom:

The soil is a conduit of both growth and decay. Eyes forward, rooted to the past and reaching to the skies, she'll grow. Keywords: Balance, Forward, Growth, Duty, Building.

Some of you may use less than healthy tactics to cope. Maybe you should think of yourself like a plant. What are you fertilizing your soil with? What are you using for watering? Put the best in, get the best out.

TL;DR: Your DF energy is a L-E-A-D-E-R, okay?! She calls the shots in every area of her life. Some suitors are attracted to her because their immaturity is infatuated with her self-assured, mature energy. However, she prefers an equally strong partner at her side but this does not mean she wants to be led. No, she wants someone that respects her as an equal but allows her to take the lead. She lives life on her terms, loves on her terms, and does not care what anyone else thinks of that. She does have a soft spot but that is not for everyone. This nurturing energy could be channeled into working with children in some capacity. In order to step into this energy, you will have to untether yourself from insecurity and heartbreak. You already have this power inside of you, its only a matter of letting it grow. You don't have to deny what you have been through or the way it impacts you, but it also does not have to hold you back. Replace your unhealthy coping mechanisms with healthy ones.

As previously stated, I have a planned post that will expand on my views about feminine energy and other spiritual topics. I am really looking forward to sharing my thoughts and hope you all will chime in! I would love to start a discussion.

Until then ❤

~ K

#pick a card #intuitive readings #spirituality #tarot reading #oracle reading #pick a pile #tarot #oracle cards #tarot community #hecate #goddess lilith #dark feminine energy #spiritual awakening #shadow work #divine feminine #feminine energy

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gremlinmodetweeker · 2 months ago

Text

Carve Out A Place For Me to Sing

Okay so, I had an idea for a story a long time ago and I was going to write this out, but I figured I'd try a hand at making this into a fanfiction first. I think y'all will really like the idea though. Hear me out:

Exectutioner!König

I know others have done the idea, but this is a world I've been building for ages with its own established lore and history. I think you'll all find this to be pretty fun.

CW: public execution, mild descriptions of gore,

Wordcount: 4.8k

Art from This Post

Story below the Cut

Carve Out A Place For Me to Sing

You hated execution wakes*. They were miserable, wretched shows of viscera and torment for the insatiable masses below. You despised the way the crowd roared and cheered as the criminal’s severed head was held up to the crowd, eyes still fluttering with prayers for forgiveness on their trembling lips. You were revolted by how judge Holten would laugh like a great, bellowing tracker* as the criminals would writhe and beg for mercy at his feet. What chilled you most of all, though, were his eyes. Not judge Holten’s, most certainly not Father Kim’s, but his.

Cold blue eyes like the hold of Criah’s-turn* on your heart. A chilling draft through thatched roofs. His blank stare felt like stepping into a frozen forest, lost under a pale sky without neither a hearth or home in reach. Whenever he looked at you, you could feel the cold chill winding up your spine. You were a good, honest woman. A good, honest woman was always afraid of a bad man. Any woman would be afraid of a beast like him.

You shuddered as you kneaded the sourdough bread beneath your hands. Your aunt clucked her tongue at you.

“Well come on! We don’t have all day, now do we?” she shook the dark curls that framed her face, “daylight’s fading fast!”

“Auntie, my arms feel like they’re going to fall off!” you complained as you dropped the dough into a bowl to rise again.

“Well I’ll knock them off if you keep up with your whinging!” she squawked and threw another tray of buns into the oven.

“You know, if you’ve got this sort of energy, you’re free to go out to market tomorrow in my stead,” you tried once more as you drew out another batch of dough to knead.

“I’ve got three young’uns underfoot,” your aunt scolded you, “I don’t have nearly enough time to go out hawking bread to those animals.”

“Animals” you scoffed, “I didn’t think witch Rozlin was an animal.”

“Witch Rozlin is a good woman, but anyone going out to one of those blood shows is naught much more than a pig out back,” Auntie sniffed.

You rolled your eyes as you got to kneading the next batch. It wasn’t like you disagreed with your Auntie, but you were rather nonplussed by the idea of going out and selling buns to the rabid mob that was sure to form in the town square next Brak-Hah’s-watch*. Your Auntie had a point. The three rapscallions that currently out at school would be a handful on a Hollinwake, but all god-watch you’d been looking forward to having the day to yourself. After all, Hollinwake was the one wake in a god-watch devoted to caring for yourself and for your family. It was meant to be a day of peace, rest and personal growth. As such, it figured that judge Holten would schedule an execution for the final day of a god-watch. It was just another tally onto the ever-growing list of why judge Holten was the most deplorable man in Mormonia.

It wasn’t like anyone else disagreed with you. Judge Holten was a miserable toad. He was a stout man sporting a grotesque belly overhanging his gilded rope belt with a pugnacious air to him radiating off him with the scent of his tobacco. He’d walk around town in his blessed scarlet robes, scoffing as he whacked small children and animals alike out from under his foot. It was a wonder that any woman willingly shared a bed with the man. You just wished that Halax* might take a shine to you and smite the bastard from existence.

Alas, Halax had long-since turned her back on you when your uncle had fallen ill. Normally, he’d be in your place to prepare the bread and buns for tomorrow, but he had been struck ill at the start of the god-watch. He’d been bed since last Dandorwake*. You’d prayed at church with Father Kim, who’d kindly offered you a cup of mead and a fresh cabbage from the church’s gardens, but you’d declined and urged him to keep them for someone else. He’d tried to insist while gardening, but by the time he turned to hand one over you were already out the door. Maybe it was a sin to turn your back on a priest when he hadn't finished giving an offering, but you knew full well that he needed that cabbage far more than you ever could.

Last cycle* had been cruel. This turning-time* had been fruitful in harvests, but it didn’t make up for an entire cycle of suffering. There had been nothing but torrential rain to drench the ground followed by ages of heat that left the earth splitting with cracks and coughing dust. Most families had to turn to their own reserves, but of course, Father Kim and the church had no such stores. The church, as any good church ought to be, was entirely dependent on donations to run. With families unable to feed even their own children, Father Kim had to make do with an entire cycle of kitchen scraps and meager growth from their garden. Even now, Father Kim was still bony and frail in frame, a mere shadow of the power and might he’d carried the cycle before.

Maybe it was because you’d denied Father Kim’s offerings that your uncle still lay sick, but you weren’t too concerned. Just last wake, witch Rozlin had come with the town apothecary, Darnell to your door. On seeing your uncle, they laughed and told you he’d be up and on his feet within a couple wakes. They still charged you for their time, but you were glad to only be giving over a handful of brass coins rather than paying full price for some balms. So, with the reminder to wait, your uncle had been urged to rest and you had gone out to give the good news to your cousins.

A spark of embers caught your attention. You realized your Auntie must have left to go grab the children from the school master for the evening, leaving you alone in the bakery to work on the next batches. You heaved a sigh and straightened your aching back momentarily before turning back to your work. After all, you had plenty of work to do.

The next wake had started with you loading up the market wagon.

“Auntie, are you sure you want to sell the salted buns?” you asked as your Auntie piled in another load of bread.

“I’m sure of it,” your Auntie declared, “they’re the best thing I’ve made in moons!”

“But-”

“No buts!” she held a roughened finger up to your lips, “just go! You’ll be lucky if it’s not over by now.”

“I hope it is,” you muttered back.

“And just you be careful about The Axe, alright?” your Auntie worried over you as she adjusted your head scarf.

“Worry about The Axe? Why?” you asked.

“He’s a mean one, he is,” your Auntie warned you, “barely talks but… Well… He’s an executioner, dear. He’s not a good man. You’d best keep your distance if you can.”

“Doesn’t my uncle deal with him?” you frowned.

“Oh he’s nice enough to your uncle, but to a young lady?” your auntie clucked her tongue, “I don’t like thinking about it. He’s not right in the head. If only I could I’d go with you, but with the little ones…”

You smiled warmly, “I understand. Don’t worry Auntie, I promise I’ll be safe.”

“Make sure you have someone with you when he comes to get his rations!”

You barely heard her as you picked up the handles of the wagon and set off to to the Criahlin’s* stone. It wouldn’t be more than a half watch* to get there by foot, less by beetle. You’d always tried to get your uncle to buy one, but he’d stubbornly refused each time you brought up the idea, pointing out the cost of feeding such a thing.

At the very least, the walk was a good one. The warmth of Brak-Hah’s turn had a spring in your step as you moved down the dirt path, formed by generations of beetles, turtles and lizards drawing wagons from town to town. Being on the outskirts had its benefits, that couldn’t be argued, but you sometimes found the walk to be tiresome. At least today the skies were bright and cheery, much like the sun god himself.

As you pushed the wagon, you let yourself focus on the growing wheat of your uncle’s fields. They were slowly turning a nice, bright golden yellow with the coming of Hanndoal’s-turn*, which was heralded by the trees in the distance turning a rugged burgundy splattered with patches of golden yellow. And as you’d noted earlier, the sky above was bright and blue, a glorious day for an outing. It truly was a beautiful day for an execution.

You rolled the cart through the cobblestone streets to the Criahlin’s stone, where the red splotched platform had been dutifully erected. Already, a crowd was milling about in their fine clothes, all shades of bright yellow, soft green and pastel blues, a fond farewell to the warm sun of Brak-Hah’s-turn* and welcoming in the cool winds of Hanndoal’s-turn. You smiled at the sight of it all.

Already, a few others had set up their stalls in preparations for the day. You saw the farmers arranging their Brak-Hah’s-turn’s crops and hanging up garlands of spices to draw in patrons from the crowd. Across from that roughened few, a cobbler was setting up a place to clean people’s shoes of the blood. Today looked like it was turning out to be a beheading. If nothing else, it was an easy death.

You spotted a familiar dark head of hair and hurried to her side.

“What’s the crime?” you asked as you came up to Salvatrice.

She glanced back at you, the scar on the left side of her face bunching with a grimace.

“Why’re you out here?” she growled.

“Is that how you’re greeting a friend?” you laughed.

“Well, it’s how I greet you,” she snorted as she turned to face you properly, “but where’s your uncle? Usually he comes out to these sorts of things.”

“He’s sick as a tracker right now,” you laughed, “but he’ll be up on his feet soon. We had Darnell and witch Rozlin come out to take a look at him.”

“Why didn’t you get your aunt to come instead of you?” Salvatrice scowled.

“It’s almost like you don’t want to see me!” you put your hands on your hips accusingly.

That at least brought a smile to her scarred face, “I just didn’t think you’d like being here. I know you’re not too big a fan of what we’ve got going on this wake.”

“Eh,” you shrugged, “I can look away. But I already know what I’m doing, what’s the crime here? Who’s getting whacked?”

“Judge Holten found Cramus Wright guilty of murder,” Salvatrice explained, “he punched some poor bastard in the back of the neck so hard that their spine cracked.”

“Wait,” you shook your head, “why’d he do that?”

“Beats me,” Salvatrice shrugged, “but he did it, so here he is. Or, well, will be.”

You looked up at the platform where Father Kim was reciting his prayers to the crowd. Most of the crowd looked at him blankly, only a few bowing their heads with his. Beside him, Judge Holten was scratching his stomach and yawning. His great book of law was tucked under his other arm like a fat black slug.

“Where’s the executioner?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly.

“Leading Cramus, I’d think,” Salvatrice fiddled with one of the skinning knives on her belt.

“So it should take a while to get here,” you surmised.

“You should start selling that bread before he shows up,” Salvatrice reminded you, “people might not be so hungry after.”

“Oh you know they always are,” you groaned, but wheeled your cart back to a spare stall and laid out your goods.

It only took a couple of shouts for people to starting making their way over to you. You rolled your eyes when your Auntie’s salted buns sold out first, but vowed to tell her what a great success they were when you got home. Sadly, your uncle’s browned beetle meat buns weren’t quite so popular, but at the very least your crisprunch buns were selling well enough for you to feel confident in your experiments. Of course, the salted turtle buns sold well, but so did anything your Auntie made. You didn’t quite have the talent for coming up with recipes like she did. At the very least, what you lacked in useful creativity you more than made up for in technical skill. You knew your lattice pies were always sure to win over the crowds.

You passed a turtle bun to a small girl when you heard the yelling from behind you. You turned to look, and immediately wished you hadn’t.

There in the center of the road was a great monolith of a man carrying the soon to be departed Cramus Wright, wailing like a mowler on his back. You shuddered as he neared the square, his heavy footsteps slowly trudging by you to make his way to the great platform. The crowd split silently for the man, not a soul daring to step within his radius. Children huddled into their mother’s aprons and men shuddered at the sight of him. Up on his back, Cramus Wright threw his meaty hands against the giant and bellowed like a swamp toad. His eyes bulged so that even from afar you could see the whites of his black eyes as they whirled round and round in their sockets.

“It ain’t me!” the man’s voice carried through the crisp air, “I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!”

Judge Holten rolled his eyes as Cramus was strapped into the stocks. He begged and cried until his voice went hoarse as he thrashed against the black iron chains. His neck strained as he tried to move his head from the chopping block, but eventually his body gave out and he slumped down over the wood.

Judge Holten sighed and turned to the crowd. He pulled out the black and gold leather book and started up his readings, calling out with a pious voice that grated on your ears. You ignored his callings to focus on Father Kim, who sensing his opportunity, had kneeled by the prisoner’s side to give him his final prayers. He painted the man’s face in pigmented oils, forming complex patterns that linked and looped across his cheeks up to his forehead, where Father Kim painted a bright and glorious eye in red. When he’d finished, he kissed the man’s forehead and stepped back to stand beside the half-giant and speak to him. The crowd roared and cheered as Judge Holten whipped them up into a fury, but you saw past them to the silent duo who stood waiting by the edge of the worn wood platform.

There with his cursed black hood stood the half giant only known in the village as ‘The Axe’. He was a horrendous man, what with his tremendous body and his hulking pose. He stood out in any crowd he stood in, a shrouded wraith covered in dark cloth from head to toe, save only for a tan tunic he tucked in with a girthy black leather belt. He lorded above Father Kim, and yet there was something so tender in seeing a man born of blood and death bowing down so that a chosen holy spirit could whisper into his ear. You couldn’t see his eyes from here (and thank Halax for that), but you could see the man’s shoulders shake with a good laugh.

Eventually, Judge Holten closed his book and tucked it back under his left arm, turning to face the unfortunate Cramus Wright.

“Cramus Wright,” Judge Holten’s voice boomed around you, “you are found to be guilty of murder in the highest degree. Additionally, you are charged with the theft of four-hundred gold coins, thirty-eight silver coins, forty five bronze coins, and ten copper coins. You are hereby deemed unfit to live amongst common man, and are to be beheaded with a blunt axe. May Forruxik* have mercy on you.”

Your knees felt weak. A blunt axe? That seemed absolutely barbaric, and yet the crowd cheered all the same.

From the back, you saw The Axe take his namesake axe from his side, rusted red with a grotty hardwood handle. He twirled it expertly in one gloved hand as he walked forth, ignoring Cramus’s screams and the cheering of the crowd. He leisurely sauntered to the side and looked down on Cramus. He bent in half to lean down to the man’s ear. A brief exchange was made, and The Axe rose back up to his full monstrous height and raised the axe up high above his head in his tremendous hands. The crowd was silent as The Axe took a deep breath, momentarily soaking in the moment, then swung down with all his might. You turned away just in time to hear a fleshy thud.

The crowd screamed with wild delight as Cramus’s head was raised up his, painting The Axe’s creamy tunic in bright scarlet red as blood rained down upon the crowd. They eagerly surged forward to try and catch some of it on any piece of clothing, anything to keep as a memento of the event. The Axe looked down upon them with those cold, cold eyes. You could see the sheer hatred and disdain from where you stood at your stall. You shivered as The Axe took the head and hurled it into the crowd to be torn apart. They grappled over it like wild lizards, teeth gnashing and spit flying as they tried to get a piece for themselves.

When you looked back at the stage, Father Kim had his hand on The Axe’s bicep and was speaking to him. Judge Holten was stepping down the platform stairs to make way for the morticians that crawled up from the earth to take their prize. They’d get the head in about an hour, when all was said and done. If they were lucky it’d be picked clean by then.

You sneered at the display, and instead focused your energy on making your sales to the now-ravenous mob.

You made your sales easily. It was sometimes easier to turn your brain off and just take the coins, tuck them into the pouch on your belt. You worked quickly, efficiently, not fully realizing how many you’d gotten through until the sky started to turn and the crowds dwindled to nothing.

Only once all the patrons had left for the day did you notice a shadow crossing your stall.

You looked up, only to immediately freeze under the watch of those frozen eyes.

“Hallo?” his voice was strangely accented, “I am here for my rations.”

You blinked as you took in The Axe. You’d never seen him this close before, where you could actually see the red trails that hung below the holes he cut out for his eyes.

“Your rations?” you whimpered as you trembled.

The Axe nodded slowly, almost as though you were stupid.

You looked around your stall, but it was bare of any goods. Everything had been sold that day. What did he mean?

“What rations?” you managed to squeak out.

“My bread,” The Axe said as though that might help clarify his meaning, “I want my bread. The provisions bread.”

You blinked up at him.

“What provisions bread?” you asked, now confused more than afraid.

“For my duties I am given rations by the council,” The Axe explained in his whispery voice, “your uncle always puts them aside for me.”

Oh! The rations! Surely your auntie had packed them somewhere.

You turned and rummaged through the cart, but there wasn’t so much as a bun to give over. The shelves under your stall held naught more than a coating of fresh crumbs. You turned up to him with a frown, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any bread for you. Are you sure that you’re meant to get rations from us today?”

“There is no other miller in the village,” The Axe grunted, “do you not have my rations?”

You cringed at his accusations and subtly tried to shift your coin pouch away, ever so carefully creeping from him as you told him, “I don’t have your rations. I’m sorry.”

The Axe stood still. You couldn’t help but freeze under his icy eyes. You swore you saw rage like no other in those Criah’s turn eyes, cold and billowing out like a hailing gale. He looked you up and down with those frosted eyes before letting out a puff of air, making his black mask billow out before resting back on his face.

“Then next time,” he said quietly.

You turned to leave but he coughed to grab your attention.

“What?” you asked, a bit ruder than you intended.

“Is your uncle alright?”

You lowered your tensed shoulders, then scowled, “Why would you care? You’re not looking for him, are you?”

The Axe swung his head back and forth slowly, “I just want to know if he’s alright. He’s kind when giving me my rations. What happened to him?”

“He’s sick,” you said tersely.

“A shame,” The Axe said quietly, “I hate to hear that a good friend is suffering.”

Your scowl deepened, “What do you mean? That’s literally your job. You kill people all the time. You make people suffer for money. If you don’t like hurting people, then why are you still here?”

“It pays well,” The Axe muttered, “and it’s all I’m allowed to do, anyways.”

You paused. What in Mormonia* was he talking about?

“Couldn’t you get a job as a tailor? Maybe a glove maker?” you offered.

“Who would take an executioner’s son as a journeyman?” The Axe chuckled, “you see how the others are afraid to even be near me. Nobody would take me in.”

You drummed your fingers on the counter, “Why don’t you go to another town?”

“With what work history? Nobody will hire me,” The Axe supplied.

You nodded slowly before grimacing and offering your final solution, “Why don’t you become an adventurer? Somebody as big as you would make a good fighter, right?”

“And leave my home?” The Axe shook his head, “I love my home. I could never abandon what little I have. And anyways, what if I lose it all? What if I lose more than what I have now? Nobody likes me here, but this place is safe. I’m happier here.”

You leaned on the top of the stall, curling your fingers into a fist under your chin as you thought carefully. The Axe didn’t seem quite so scary now. You’d always figured him to be rude and abrasive, a beast of a man, but now that you spoke to him he seemed just as nervous of you as you of him, if a bit (understandably) melancholic.

You tried to think of another solution, but all that came up was, “Why don’t you make somebody else do your job?”

“Hah!” The Axe barked, “nobody can do my job as well as I can. They would draw out the pain, make the prisoners suffer. I make it quick! I try to make it as painless as possible. After all, it might be my head on the stocks one day,” his eyes softened, “I can only hope whoever’s next is as forgiving as I am.”

You nodded slowly. In the end, he managed to take a man’s head off with one sweep of a dull axe. There wasn’t another man in the village that you could imagine being able to pull off the same feat. He easily could have drawn out the killing, had every excuse with a dull axe, and yet he chose to make it as quick as possible.

“So, you really don’t have a choice,” you concluded.

The Axe shook his head mournfully.

“That…” you slumped a bit, “that’s terrible. I’m so sorry you have to do this.”

“It’s not so bad,” The Axe offered, “just lonely.”

“Lonely?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Lonely,” The Axe nodded, “only a small few are willing to speak to me, and only because they must. I am friends with Darnell, Witch Rozlin, and Father Kim. Occasionally, Sister Callisto or Sister Mila will speak to me. But if they are not forced to speak with me? Nobody speaks to me. Everyone in this village hates me. If they don’t hate me, they are afraid of me.

“So,” The Axe shrugged, “I am lonely.”

You frowned at the thought. It sounded like a miserable existence. You’d always known the community to welcome you with open arms. You laughed with neighbors, chatted with vendors, haggled with patrons with ease. Life was always busy with five nieces and nephews running underfoot in at home.

The Axe, though, was a different case.

You knew The Axe to be the only son of a waif of a woman and a giant man that had hung himself after his wife passed. For at least four years, you knew the Axe to live on his own out in a cottage deep in the woods, father from town than even your uncle’s mill. Supposedly, it was to protect everyone from the butcher’s rage. Now, you were starting to think the reverse might be true.

“That sounds awful,” you admitted, “I can’t imagine everyone in the village hating me.”

“You get used to it,” The Axe offered.

You frowned, “You shouldn’t have to ‘get used to it’. You should be able to have friends like anybody else.”

“Well, would you be friends with the man who kills for a living?” The Axe snorted.

You looked the man up and down carefully. The blood on his tunic had turned a maroon red. In the dying light of the sun, you could make out some flecks that had made their way onto his slider belt buckle. You flicked your eyes away from his crotch to look down at his thighs, each one thick as tree trunks and just as sturdy. Looking back up at his face, his cold eyes now seemed less dour, severe. Instead, you wondered if he was lost in his own frozen forest.

“I think I would be,” you offered.

The Axe’s eyes widened.

“You would be?” he parroted.

“I think if he let me,” you gave him a small smile.

The bells of the church rung out, indicating the late hour. You hissed as you scrambled to grab your wagon and pull it out from behind the stall. When you turned, The Axe was still standing, looking completely shell-shocked.

“Hey,” you caught his attention, “if you come back tomorrow at the start of the tenth watch*, I’ll get you your rations.”

“But won’t that be after sundown?” The Axe shifted his weight.

“The moon will be up by then,” you agreed, “but it won’t be too late. I can still make it out here and back before my Auntie and Uncle go to sleep. Do you wanna meet up then?”

The Axe looked down at his hands and shuffled awkwardly, “If you’re willing to do all that for me…”

“I’d love to,” you cut him off, “anyways, it’s getting late. I should probably get him before my Auntie gets worried.”

The Axe nodded and sent you off with a wave.

You walked down the path, following the glowing blue and white blossoms of moon flowers. A few patches of luminescent moss growing across the wood fences helped keep you on course when you finally made your way home.

When you did manage, your Auntie was waiting in the living room for you.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed and threw her arms around you before pulling away, “I’m so sorry! Was he mean to you? Did he try to hurt you?”

You screwed up your face, “Auntie, what’re you talking about? Who would’ve hurt me?”

“The Axe!” she exclaimed, “I forgot to pack his rations for you today! Didn’t he yell at you for them? I only noticed once you’d left! Surely he got upset, didn’t he? Was he too scary? I can tell your uncle he needs to find another baker if he tried to hurt you.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “he was fine. I just told him I’d get them to him later.”

Your Auntie shrieked so loud you had to cover your ears.

“You told him you’d see him again?” she screeched, “what in the realms* were you thinking, girl!? Oh what have you done?”

“I told him I’d meet him at the tenth watch,” you explained, “out by the Criahlin’s stone.”

Your Auntie looked like she’d keel over and faint right then and there, “Oh by Halax’s name, what have you done?” she paused and shook her head, “no, you’re not going. I can’t have you seeing that dangerous man on your own, and especially not after dark!”

“What do you mean?” you scoffed, “I made a promise! You can’t have me breaking a promise, can you?”

“Oh I most certainly can!” your Auntie huffed, “it’s what’s best for you!”

“But Auntie he wasn’t that bad!” you tried to reason with her, “he’s nice! He’s just lonely!”

“Lonely?” your Auntie scoffed, “pah! That’s ridiculous. Now you listen and you listen close: you’re not to go and see him tomorrow. You stay right here with us. If I see you skeeving off, you’ll be in for a realm of trouble!”

You glared at her, but you were too tired to argue. You simply closed your eyes and nodded.

“That’s a good girl,” your Auntie sighed, “now, off to bed with you. We’ve got a busy day of baking tomorrow!”

You tromped up the creaking wooden stairs to go to bed.

You brushed out your hair in the window, thinking about how lonely The Axe must have been out in his cottage. You could see him now, sleeping alone in his thatching, shivering without so much as a fire to warm him. As you settled down into the straw, you vowed to make sure you’d change that.

Glossary

Wake - Day

Tracker - Type of lizard used for hunting (Mormonia's version of dogs)

Criah's turn - Every turn is a season named after a god. Criah's turn is named after the god of death, grief, hope and forgiveness. This turn is effectively winter

Next Wake - tomorrow

Hollinswake - tenth day of the week (there are ten days in a week), named after the goddess Hollin (diety of dreams and nightmares)

Halax - Creator goddess

Dandorwake - fifth day of the week, named after Dandor (diety of aspiration and responsibility)

Cycle - year

Half Watch - half an hour

Brak-Hah - God of the Sun, Light, Children and Joy

Hanndoal's Turn - Fall season, named after Hanndoal (diety of Trickery, Fun, Truth and Creativity)

Forruxik - God of Justice, Order, Wisdom and Intelligence

Mormonia - World

Tenth Watch - Days are split into 12 watches, each lasting 2 hours 24 minutes long

The Realms - There are an undetermined amount of realms of reality, with the three most pressing ones being the Looking Realm (our realm), the Feeling Realm (the realm where the otherworldly live) and the Highest Realm (the realm where Gods live)

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

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