#r. of those who sold the world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gutsby · 8 months ago

Text

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

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untitledrockstar-if · 6 days ago

Text

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

Lead singer R of Saving Face -- currently on tour in North America -- and their partner of three years caused quite the scene in the Ritz-Carlton lobby last night during a heated argument! The fight reportedly began over a delayed check-in with emotions running high and quickly spiraled into personal accusations, with R's partner allegedly shouting, "Me, me, me! I can't hear it anymore!" and R firing back, "You wouldn't even have a roof over your head if it weren't for me!"

Onlookers recorded the altercation, and the videos have since gone viral, sparking concern and debate among fans. Hotel staff tried to calm the situation, but the couple left without resolving the dispute publicly. Neither R nor their partner (or should we rather say former partner?) has issued a statement about the incident, but be sure to follow along as we cover any new developments following that very public meltdown!

CAN'T SAVE YOUR LOVE FROM DYING is a mature interactive story where you step into the shoes of a rockstar’s partner navigating the wild highs and messy lows of fame. As the drama unfolds, you’ll decide whether to carve out your own identity or remain the glamorous accessory the industry expects. With resentment, ambition, and chaos colliding, can you survive the spotlight— or will you thrive in it?

gender & sexuality choice

decide between five unique romance options, all of them gender selectable

choose whether to carve out a space for yourself in Hollywood or live off of your partners fame

cause a scandal or two (or three or--)

RONAN/ROXANNE ☆ the rockstar everyone wants— a magnetic performer with a voice that could break hearts and a smile that makes the world forget their flaws. Behind the sold-out arenas and screaming fans, they're yours however— messy, complicated, and achingly human.

MILAN/MARGO ☆ the actor on the brink of stardom— a talented, ambitious actor with a magnetic charm that’s impossible to ignore. As their career skyrockets, your relationship deepens, but the pressures of fame and the shadows of those eager to pull them away will be harder than ever to ignore.

CHARLES/COLETTE ☆ the sharp-tongued, enigmatic agent who always seems two steps ahead—especially when it comes to you. With secrets as deep as their charm, C isn’t just looking to make you a star.

SAMUEL/SCARLETT ☆ the hot-headed, talented cousin and bassist of your partner is supposed to be off-limits, but as cracks start to show, turning to someone familiar could prove to be just what you need.

???? ☆ the blast from the past is more than just a reminder of where you came from.

demo is currently being written

DEMO (COMING SOON) ☆ PLAYLIST ☆ FAQ ☆ CHARACTERS

#can't save your love from dying #interactive fiction #cog wip #choice of games wip #**intro post

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sepherinaspoppies · 9 months ago

Text

Only If For A Night (i/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !

wc: 4,027

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt2

notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).

Chapter 1: Only If For A Night

She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)

She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)

Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)

She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)

Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.

She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)

George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.

Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible.

‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’

“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico.

It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.

“Umm… I- I’m sorry?”

The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful.

“The bus–”

She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude.

She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.

“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her.

“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her.

A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.

“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear.

The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting.

“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin.

“Yes, almost like I've lived through it”

She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid.

The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.”

Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news)

“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?”

She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!

But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away.

“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.

“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist.

Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance.

She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision.

Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.

From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection.

She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)

“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together.

“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile.

The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.

In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies.

In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run.

She ignored it, again.

“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)

She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit.

She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.

Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze.

“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen.

She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore.

She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family.

A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood.

She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have.

Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys)

Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair.

Silver.

Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?”

Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.

Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth.

Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight.

“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.”

Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.”

She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.

Not now. Not ever.

She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so.

“I don’t—”

“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye.

She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.

“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.

She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist.

“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.”

Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…

There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down.

She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.”

Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her.

Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)

Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.

The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)

Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)

It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…

But not to Alyssandra.

Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp.

However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic.

“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.

All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully.

Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic.

“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out.

She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.

But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative.

“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe.

She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic.

Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand.

Blood. Her blood.

Run!

“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face.

“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor.

“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…”

She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there.

Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)

“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.”

She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.”

There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned.

Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.”

Fuck.

“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?”

Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one.

She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass)

“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.”

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche

series taglist: @castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @itsabby15 @diannnnsss @fan-goddess @zenka69 @a-beaverhausen @gabee-arts @bluebirdbts @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @absurduty @delulumhaggy @liannafae @aaaaaamond @ilikechocolatemilkh @bellaisasleep @ammo23 @alphard-hydraes-blog

if you'd like to be tagged on my general taglist click here

if you want to be tagged on this series comment here!

#prince aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen

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wooziorgans · 2 months ago

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hey uh. in light of my most recent post (miami bf woozi texts) i would like to just come out n say that i do not support this project between svt n dj khaled at ALL.

just a reminder that dj khaled is a Palestinian man who sold his soul to zionsits and is also potentially a suspect on p diddys list. and i want to say that the timing of this project is incredibly suspect on hybe/pledis’s part after svt “allegedly” showed solidarity w Palestine at lollapoloza (let’s be real, sos is abt palestine,,, heavily censored bcs hybe would Never let woozi or anyone else for that matter openly speak up abt Palestine).

the only people I’ve seen be excited for this potential collab is carats, and that’s because they Don’t Know abt all the shit khaleds done/is involved with.

i mean, the half naked women welcoming svt is objectively funny as fuck but it’s also so incredibly uncomfortable. going from the world of being a kpop idol to the western music industry. those are two totally different worlds. and woozi was visibly uncomfortable inside of that club but I digress.

and while we’re here, let’s talk about the absurd amount of racism directed towards svt for just existing in miami as kpop idols. “why r we drinking w kpop” literally fuck you. the western (american) music industry is rooted in white supremacy and misogyny. and it’s DISGUSTING that hybe would (knowingly) subject svt to this kind of treatment,,, especially w someone like dj khaled.

hybe is profiting off of your naivety. do not support this project.

(edit: i totally misread the lyrics to sos. it’s abt drug abuse, from what i now understand, but I interpreted it as something else. there is still the double meaning potential. check comments for a full explanation)

#seventeen x reader #seventeen #woozi #woozi x reader #hybe #hybe entertainment #hybe labels #fuck hybe #hybe boycott #pledis 17 #pledis entertainment #pledis seventeen #☼wo talks

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romanoffsbish · 2 years ago

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A Harsh Lesson to Learn

Pervy Professors!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Darcy x F!R (Brief interaction)

Warnings: Insecure R, Mentions of Blackmail, Gaslighting.

Smut: Spanking(R/Specialty paddle), Strap (R—N), Oral (R—W). Mommy (W), Daddy (N), Degradation.

18+ | Minors DNI

3,925 Words

As Natasha went to fill out the board to map out today's joint lesson with none other than Professor Maximoff—her wife, and close colleague she froze in place at the sound of laughter. Normally the affairs of her students before class began didn't bother her, but since it'd been a week since you last chose to attend she was intrigued, but more so she was furious.

Turning around only made her ten times as such, the sight of you with your hand on the bicep of Darcy Lewis—the campus 'fuckboy,' with your head thrown back as you forced out a laugh at one of her lame jokes was a sight meant to be nonexistent. Not only was she mad that you even dared taunt them with another, but you were also breaking one of their core rules by showing up in such a reserved outfit. They didn't make you go out shopping for all of those low cut crop tops, and mini skirts for you to wear a turtle neck and slacks to their class.

———

Natasha and Wanda were strategic when selecting you to be their precious girl all those years ago when you decidedly chose Russian to meet your university language requirement. It'd been a decision based on a whim, your friend who was a second year advised you to do it because the professor was hot, and the other languages offered were "boring," and "basic." You were sold the moment she said hot, and accompanied her words with the evidence.

As that first semester drew closer to the end you found your school girl fantasy of sleeping with your professor was far more based in reality when she bent you over her desk during your 'mandatory' meeting about your future in her department. With your mind in a haze, she'd actually managed to convince you—an Economics major, to minor in Russian studies.

Which is how you found yourself stuck in this dreadful hybrid class with the women. Wanda taught Russian Literature, while Natasha taught every language course offered, and the university allowed them to combine courses. Every Monday you would go to Russian 4, where Natasha taught that weeks vocabulary. On Wednesday's you'd review the literature that corresponded well with Natasha's lessons piece by piece with Wanda. Then come Friday you'd spend three hours being taunted by the both of them as they connected their lessons, then gave a corresponding quiz or assignment.

These beautiful women who managed to rock your world on a regular basis, while also being absolute nightmares to deal with have trapped you in their intricate web of thought out lies. For two years now they'd promised to take you on a proper date, to show you their whispered words during sex were true, but they always found a way to evade your requests, and it usually ended with them fucking you senseless enough to momentarily forget your woes.

They had every intention to take you out, but then they received an anonymous photo of the three of you leaving class together. Innocent in nature, but the sender clearly had an eye for subtext because the "😉" attached wasn't an accident. If they were to take you out now they run the risk of losing their jobs, which to them wasn't even the main concern; if you were to all be outed you'd be bumped from the university.

Funny enough, your relationship isn't even a forbidden one, it's highly frowned upon sure, but with the proper paperwork submitted, and the lack of campus based fraternization—like taking a class, it can be done without penalty. However, the women never wanted to tell their employer—the university, of their private business, and now it's too late to try. Leaving them in a position where they have to keep you in the shadows of their life instead of showing you off to the world like they truly wanted to.

Because, if they could do that, then that bitch Darcy wouldn't be leaning in to kiss your cheek, and you wouldn't be giggling, humoring the girl, but really doing it as you stared back at your perverse professor who was staring daggers into your classmates head., "Ladies, take your seats, this isn't the proper space for such delinquent behaviors, or have you confused my class for the likes of Mr. Stark's?"

Darcy, suave as could be took her seat, but in doing so she brought you down with her, and the involuntary whimper you let out drew the redheads attention back to you immediately. The brunette beneath you was packing, that much was obvious to her, and it enraged her to see her obvious intentions personified. Judging by the look on your face you were shocked, but she could also see the clear regret in your eyes.

Firstly, you'd only planned to tease the women you adored, because you loved them far too much to step out on them, but as they'd been throwing you to the side for so long you felt they needed to remember you had options. That you wouldn't wait around forever for them to treat you like their partner, and not just a set of holes to fill. Secondly, you were only lazily flirting with Darcy, this wasn't meant to get to such places, and now she's got it in her head that she'll be having her way with you tonight, and that just isn't the case.

Especially not when Wanda walks in to see the tense situation., "Miss Lewis, you're dismissed, maybe come Monday you'll return with sense.," the girl scoffed, but quickly fixed her face once on the end of Wanda's glare, the head tilt adding the extra touch of intimidation needed., "Come on Y/N.," Darcy murmured while lifting the both of you up, but a hand gripped you by the forearm and spun you from the girls hold.

"Please, don't tell me you forgot how to listen, I only dismissed you.," Wanda chillingly relays, her hand subtly tightened around your arm causing you to wince as fingernails dug into the skin through the sleeve of your shirt., "Miss Y/L/N here has already missed a weeks worth of content, plus I saw how you pulled her down, and her face was nothing short of stunned.," the brunette, for the sake of professionalism, held back her smirk at Darcy's fallen features.

Darcy stormed off out of the classroom, and as soon as she was out you saw Natasha heading towards the door with a paper in her hand. You gulped as soon as she taped it to the outside of the classroom, following it up by pulling the curtains, and locking the door tightly shut., "Miss. Romanoff, wh-what are you doing?," you feigned cluelessness, but the mask slipped once Wanda's hand collided with your face, and you groaned when your knees hit the floor.

"Cute stunt you tried to pull kotenok.," Nat chuckled darkly, you knew better than to lift your gaze from the floor, but you were more than intrigued by the sounds of shuffling., "Didn't think we'd embarrass you, hm?," you chuckled dangerously., "I knew you would."

Wanda's fingers curled around your chin, harshly digging into the flesh as she lifted your mischievous gaze up to hers., "Oh?," she smiled down at you devilishly., "The whore was testing us, and it seems she underestimated us Natty."

A loud whirring noise came from your left, you tried to shift to see it but Wanda's grip never relented, the hairs on your entire body stood as the fear of the unknown descended over you., "What a silly little thing she is Wands.," she entered your eye line as she spoke and your body desperately tried to back away upon seeing her smirk, but she held you tightly by your shoulder while passionately kissing her wife for an unnecessarily long period of time.

"She must've been desperate to be ruined.," the redhead carelessly lifted you by your shoulder, then spun you around and slammed your front to the desk. Surveying your clothes she once again found herself enraged at the modesty., "Breaking all our rules.," she growled, using her ungodly strength she tore your turtle neck in half, tossing the fabric in her hands away as the front of it fell off your shoulders., "Better."

"Would be even better if these were gone too.," Wanda grimaced, her distaste for your brown slacks clear as day., "They're hideous, and have no business hiding our precious cunt from us."

Natasha wordlessly agreed with her, and rather aggressively showed as such by wrapping her hands around the sides of the fabric, yanking it down and ensuring that her sharp nails dug into the skin harshly enough to draw blood.

It was moments like these that confused you the most, because a huge part of you found this painfully arousing; the way they spoke of you like you were nothing more than an avenue to their pleasure turned you on immeasurably. The other part of you found it disheartening, as if all their whispered reassurances of love go down the drain with their heartless actions.

"Now listen up brat.," Wanda seethed, her hand was quick to yank your face up to meet hers by the roots of your hair. You gulped too once meeting her fiery gaze, anger and hurt prevalent., "It's about time you finally received a punishment for your recent behaviors."

The loud whirring was back, a sickening smile gracing Wanda's face as it sounds behind you., "Daddy had these custom made.," she giggles, but the humor is more so daunting as you feel a cooled leather against the back of your thighs.

"If you behave, this will be quick, and painful.," she smirks when your eyes widen., "Misbehave and the process will be tedious, and twice as painful.," and with a wink she was forcing your head back down and standing back upright.

"Thirty sound good to you moya lyubov'?," Natasha loudly asked her wife as she hovered above your ass, the leather pressed firmly against your thigh as she leaned into you.

"Thirty could work, but only if the results are deep enough.," you whimpered at the vaguely aired out words, the leather now stuck between Wanda's body and your thigh telling you this isn't the taunting, and spanking you're used to.

Natasha and Wanda shared a sloppy kiss, your body trembled with need as their lips smacked loudly, leaving you to crave a similar affection., "None of that, you knew what you were doing.," Natasha growled, their hands harshly yanked your thighs apart so you couldn't alleviate the ache in your core., "Don't forget to count and thank your mommy and daddy for each smack; mommy will be the odd hits, I'll be the even."

With a contrasting touch Wanda's hand softly ran across the swell of your ass, her fingers dipping down and teasing your entrance just enough to get you to squirm in desperation., "Maybe if you can fucking listen to the rules you'll get your pretty little pussy attended to.," she chuckled when you whined., "Hush now."

Natasha nodded at her wife, they'd decided to wait a second, leaving you in suspense for the first hit. Your body lurched at the harshness, and you cried out at the abrasive feel of the whip, it was like nothing you'd ever felt before; you couldn't place if it was pleasurable or not.

"One, thank you mommy.," you managed to get the words out, and as a reward you were met with another, much harsher smack that brought you to tears., "Two, thank you daddy."

Each hit was methodically executed, the ridges of the leather would only take to the unmarred skin if the hit was made in the same precise spot on your butt cheek every time. Normally the women would oscillate the whip between handlers, painting your backside in a gorgeous array of slashes, without any need for control. This time however required precision to ensure the word etched into your backside rose up.

They laughed with every cry that emerged from your throat, there was immense joy taken in your pain here, a punishment that fit the crime.

"Twenty-one, th-thank you mommy.," you pitifully hiccuped, and the women almost felt bad enough to stop, but the memory of Darcy's lips on you flashed through the redheads mind and the paddle came down with a sickening echo., "Twenty-two, thank you daddy.," you sobbed uncontrollably as the pain spread through your body., "I-I'm sorry, please stop..."

"Aww, we know you are baby.," Wanda gently kissed your cheek to offer you a fleeting sense of comfort., "But that's not how this works, take your punishment and stop whining."

"Twenty-nine.," you barely managed to grit out., "Ah-ah.," Wanda tutted, and you softly whispered your faux gratitude, the wives shared a smile, deciding to let you off for it., "Thirty, thank you daddy.," your body wracked with violent sobs as relief flooded your mind.

It was over, thirty painful paddling's later and your backside was no longer under attack, or so you thought, because the women shared a sick set of smiles that you couldn't see before they were rearing their arms back in sync., "3, 2, 1.," your body tensed at their cryptic countdown, then it jerked so violently forward that your abdomen met the desk, effectively knocking the wind from your lungs, and leaving you gasping.

Natasha and Wanda stepped away from your sides, smiles gracing their faces at your whines of dissatisfaction. Even with their perverse ministrations you still craved to have them close, and that delighted them beyond belief. They'd been worried they were losing you, but you just remedied their hearts greatest fears.

While you basically hyperventilated against the desk the women ogled your backside, watching in real time as their hard work slowly came to fruition. The welting process was already well underway, and it made them feel rather giddy.

Once your breathing returned to a normal enough state they returned to your side, both of them laid soft kisses to your exposed hips, and their hearts fluttered when your body relaxed.

"Pay close attention now, say the letter that I'm tracing.," Wanda softly murmured, but it was a false sense of serenity because as soon as her finger lightly trailed over the irritated skin of your ass you were a whimpering disaster., "Stay still.," she commanded through gritted teeth then began to trace over the welting skin.

"What is it baby?," you whimpered., "B"

"Good girl, so smart and so pretty.," she coo'd, then her finger slipped over to the next letter., "R.," she hummed in satisfaction, then she harshly squeezed the raw ass cheek, making your body lurch away and for you to cry out.

"Daddy's turn...," she smirked as you tensed.

Natasha wasn't nearly as nice, whereas Wanda simply used the pads of her fingers, Natasha grazed her nail over the torn up skin., "A.," she smirked devilishly at your pained response.

"Mhm.," her finger moved to the last letter, she drug it across, then down ever so slowly, making you cry with every bit of pressure she would suddenly inflict upon your skin., "T."

"Yes, and what does that spell, hm?," Wanda asked in a condescending manner, the couple chuckling softly from behind as you struggled tremendously to use your voice., "Brat..."

"Look at that Natty, she missed a week of school but she still manages to use her brain."

"All hope isn't lost.," Natasha taunts, then in an unexpected move she lifts you off the desk until your back is flush to her front, you groaned as your ass rubbed against her skirt's fabric, but a squeak of need followed when her strap was pressing into your backside just the same.

"You did so good for us kotenok.," her lips nip at the thin skin of your jaw., "You ready for a reward?," she smirked against your neck as your head bobbed above hers., "Words baby."

"Yes daddy, I-I'm ready, please...," she gripped your hips even tighter as a wave of arousal ran through her at your breathless begging., "Shh.," Wanda pressed her lips to yours., "No need to beg us now love, we'll take good care of you."

"You always do.," your soft muttering only made them more desperate to please you, the brunette dropped to her knees, using her hand she guided her wife's strap to your entrance then as Natasha entered you from behind her tongue teasingly licked at your spasming clit.

Their pace was slow, a stark contrast to their earlier ministrations, in this moment they wanted to make you tremble, to remind you that nobody else could ever love you so well. Nobody would ever know every precise angle that made you scream for more as your body racked in a sort of silent plead for it to stop.

"Are you sorry kotenok?," Natasha grunted as she thrusted a fair bit harsher into you, the leather of her top dragging over the throbbing welts on your ass, making you moan brokenly., "I'm very sorry daddy, please forgive me.," your hand fell into Wanda's hair as she began to speak into you, causing the build up within you to reach a blinding level., "'m sorry mommy, I-I love you so much, please forgive—Oh."

Wanda cut your pleading off with a harsh suck to your clit that paired with her wife's thrust., "Let go brat, it's now or never.," the redhead threatened from behind, her voice thick with rasp telling you she was on the verge of bliss herself. Something about that knowledge, and the sight of Wanda rutting against her hand as she ate you out alongside her wife sent you head first into your earth shattering orgasm.

Screams of pleasure tore from your throat, but were quickly muffled behind Natasha's hand. Your slick soon drenched Wanda's lower face, and the maroon strap between Natasha's legs, leaving the woman in awe. Natasha bit into your shoulder not even a second later as the coil within her snapped, her rutting into you only ever increased as she desperately chased that high. Wanda's ministrations never ended either as she chased her own, so as she moaned against your sensitive clit upon her own release you were thrown head first into a second one.

Natasha slowed her thrusts down as your body began to tremble uncontrollably, the second wave crashing over you thrice as hard, and it showed in the way that your slick now covered Wanda's breasts, and ran down Nat's thighs.

"Fucking hell detka, you made quite a mess.," Wanda panted as she gazed up at your face, your eyes were the type of hazy they preferred. You were always so pliant when they fucked you dumb enough, and that was today's plan.

To make you forget why you were mad in the first place, so that they can spend all weekend long reacquainting themselves with your body. Then come next weekend, if you were their good girl again they'd drive you two towns over, and treat you like the princess you are.

"What a shame detka.," Natasha breaks the silence with a pout to feign sympathy., "Had you not acted out like this all week, you'd be able to sit, and we wouldn't have had to cancel the dinner reservations at Benihana tonight."

"I-I can sit.," you tried, but whimpered just as soon as Wanda slid the tight, red leather skirt over your bare ass, it barely reached mid thigh, and you were beyond mortified at the thought of your fellow students seeing your nudity.

Natasha chuckled as her hands slid beneath your skirt just to prove your words wrong, she kneaded at the sensitive flesh, then pressed her lips to yours to catch your groans, they were this perfect balance between pained and pleasurable that left the women desperate to get you back home to destroy you further.

"No need to lie detka.," Wanda giggled from behind you, she swatted her lovers hands away from you, then in a show of genuine affection she cleaned the welting skin, then afterwards she gently applied a numbing cream to the skin, and you thanked her with soft moans.

"Feel nice detka?," she lowered your skirt, then placed a few kisses to your shoulder blades., "Mhm, thank you mommy, I love you."

“We love you too detka.,” she whispered, then softly tilted your face to the side so she could kiss you with feeling., “More than you know.,” Natasha added, her lips quick to take Wanda’s place as you naturally returned to look at her.

Your panties had been drenched, and therefore stuffed into Natasha's briefcase with a glare to hedge off your weak protests, because in the end their twisted obsession with you aroused you plenty more than it ever frustrated you.

That being said, normally you would put up a fuss for the sake of being a brat, but Natasha's eyes lit up when she saw the fight in you hardly existed., "Good girl.," she beamed, then pecked your lips with genuine affection. These marks that now adorned your once smooth skin were like badges of honor really, painful as they were you morbidly cherished them.

"Keep acting like this and we'll be able to make that dinner happen soon detka.," Wanda said from behind, sandwiching you between her and her wife once again., "We swear to it."

"No more excuses, you'll be ours to show off."

Natasha held your face to her chest, allowing you the moment to cry out all of your pent up feelings. The couple lightly swayed you, and whispered the sweetest of assurances to you, and pressed their lips to your skin in the hopes of comforting you as you let it all out.

"Head to your next class moya lyubov'.," you whimper at the command, your legs felt heavy, and the idea of sitting in one of those hard plastic desk chairs felt daunting, but you knew better than to argue with the brunette, so you savored her parting kiss, and turned back to Natasha when Wanda's warmth left you.

Natasha too kisses you rather passionately., "We'll be at home waiting for you detka, this was our only class today, don’t be late.,” she slapped your ass, laughing maniacally as you groaned and glared at her retreating form.

“Leave that attitude behind detka, we have an arsenal of new toys back at home, don’t give mommy and daddy a reason to punish you.,” she winked at you, then left through the door as her wife had just done seconds prior.

“These women are going to be the death of me…,” you whispered in faux annoyance, then after waiting an appropriate amount of time you left the classroom with a prominent limp, and a festering need in the pit of your stomach.

Natasha and Wanda still weren't going to come clean to the university, no, because that would discredit all of your hard work thus far in your minor studies, and they'd have to miss seeing your sweet face in their classes going forward.

Instead they chose to use their free time this week, that normally would've been devoted to doting on you, to find that Darcy was not only the one blackmailing the three of you, but that she was also regularly sleeping with an advisor. This is more than enough evidence to ensure your relationship stays under wraps for good.

———

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mapsontheweb · 5 months ago

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The aftermath of the fall of Constantinople in southern Europe

« Byzantium, bulwark of Christianity », R. M. Kean, Thalamus, 2006

by cartesdhistoire

The news of the fall of Constantinople was met with fear by all of Christendom. Constantinople was looted for the three days prescribed by Islamic custom: the locals were massacred—especially those who had gathered in Hagia Sophia—ransacked, or sold as slaves. Among the most prominent figures, Lucas Notaras and the Grand Domestic Andronicus Cantacuzenus were beheaded. Their families, along with many other prisoners, were sent to Edirne, becoming valuable currency for exchanges with the West.

Among those escaping Constantinople were several Palaiologoi, two Cantacuzenoi, two Komnenoi, two Laskarides, and many other members of prominent families. Some settled in Chios, where they first boarded a Genoese ship; others stopped at Monemvasia in Morea, Corfu, and Italy. The Genoese of Galata ransomed many Byzantines who went on to enlarge the ranks of the Greek diaspora in the islands, other Venetian possessions, and especially in Venice itself, which became the main city of the diaspora, as well as in Italy.

The Byzantines who escaped the massacre committed by the Turks following the city's capture organized into an autonomous commune in the Ottoman Empire, under the leadership of an elected leader. The Sultan appointed Gennadios Scholarios as Patriarch, due to his hostile stance on the Union of Orthodox and Catholic Churches. He was enthroned in January 1454 in the Church of the Holy Apostles (Hagia Sophia had already been reconsecrated as a mosque).

The Knights of Saint John confronted the Sultan's forces in 1480 and held out until 1520. The Morea, already ravaged by the antagonism of the Palaiologos brothers, fell in 1460. On August 15, 1461, David Komnenos, the last emperor of Trebizond, surrendered the last throne of the Byzantine world to the Sultan.

#maps #cartesdhistoire #igsourced #ottoman empire #15th century

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bluegalaxygirl · 5 months ago

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Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P14

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, Family issues, Mental abuse, Body issues/shaming, mentions of eating disorders, reconstructive surgery, Blood, domestic abuse and Violence.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part …. Next Part >

The Victoria was oddly quiet mainly because most of the crew where either on the deck doing cleaning work and look out duty or off the ship heading into the shopping area to get the supply's they ordered days ago, Kid of course is mad about it wanting to head into those shops and demand the stuff for free or just take the stuff after such a long wait but Killer and Wire managed to calm him down a little and shove him into his workshop which is where he's currently working on odd things. His leg bounces hating having to wait a whole day to see you and not getting to beat the shit out of anyone, again it would be much easier to destroy this place and take you with them, but he knows you well enough to know that if he does that and you get your memories back you would be overly angry with him and become less trusting of him. Your no stranger to violence and killing but Kidnapping and being forced to do something against your will is something you never tolerated, he laughs at the memory of you calling yourself a hypocrite since you didn't mind doing stuff like that to your enemies. A knock on the door jolts the captain out of his thoughts, swiveling around in his chair he flicks his hand using his devil fruit to unlock the door and open it seeing Killer, Wire and Heat all at the door "What?" Kid growls as the three enter the room, Wire closes and locks the door behind him which makes the red head raise a brow "Heat has found some info for us" Killer stands walking to stand next to his captain before turning to look over at a very tired looking Heat, the bags under his eyes are a lot darker and his eyes are blood shot.

Crossing his arms over his chest Kid sighs hoping they have something good they can use and not just some useless info "Go on then, get on with it" The captain snaps, Heat jumps slightly being brought back to the real world from his slightly sleepy state, cleaning his throat the stitched man runs a hand over his tatty hair knowing he needs a good show but what he found was more than he thought and the deeper he dug the harder it was to pull away. "There's a lot to go threw, i left Mohawk and Narbe, at the library in town, they managed to get in contact with a few people who used to work for the family, its surprising how willing they are say what goes on behind closed doors. Most of the books there though are strange to say the least, all are based on the history of entertainment and old newspapers that only show big achievements and positive views" Kid groans throwing his head back in annoyance not wanting to know how they got the information "Hurry up Heat, i'm loosing patients here" With a gulp Heat nods ruffling his hair a little to get his head in gear, its common for him to ramble when tired so Wire places a hand on his friends shoulder patting it a few times in reassurance and motivation to go on. "R-right, sorry. So Y/n's farther is the 7th owner of most of the companies he owns, all of which was passed down to him from his father and his father before him and so on, but he is the first to make a deal with the world government to supply not only medical equipment but also weapons, the guns the marines use are made by his company but before that they were sold to mulish groups, how he got away with it i honestly don't know. There's only one company he owns that doesn't involve the world government or the marines but there's little to nothing on that one, i only know that its based in the north blue."

Killer nods at the information, its surprising how much your farther caters to the world government, and yet he hasn't called in the marines yet, it makes the masked man anxious. "How many companies in total does he own?" the blonde asks wanting to know how deeply involved your farther is, getting rid of him might work in their favor if you agree to it at the end of all of this. "Four in total, the third one that provides to the world government has something to do with clothes. He also has shares in other companies and places but most of them are medical, he actually owns half the hospital here." Kids taken aback by this new information but it does make sense now why they brought you all the way here and why the staff, other than the nurse, always seem to take your families side. Wire raises an eyebrow removing his hand from the stitched man's shoulder to cross his arms over his chest "I thought they had their medical license revoked, they can't own a hospital without one" The tall man comments makes Killer hum in though his mind running to try and figure out what is going on, its clear they need you for something otherwise they wouldn't be going this far, do they need you in order to get that licence back? if so this seems way to drastic for something so small. Heat shakes his head with a sigh "That is kinda true, they got their license to make medication revoked, i couldn't find much on it but there was this drug they made that ended up killing a lot of marines that were using it, so the government took their license away. They can still make medical equipment, bandages and stuff like that though"

With a loud groan Kid leans back not seeing much point in all this information, so what if your father owns all that stuff and the place your staying in, they still can't tell him what to do or stop him from doing what he wants, your not going to be their hostage, he'll make dam sure of that "Is there anything else?" The captain asks looking back at Heat who quickly looks away while rubbing his arm, the energy in the room shifts to one of nervousness and slight sickness, Wire tilts his head at his friend a pit forming in his stomach knowing its bad if Heat is reluctant to talk about it "Shit.. this about Y/n or the family?" The tall man asks hoping its nothing bad to do with you but deep down he knows it has everything to do with you, Killer stops his pondering to look at the stitched man, his anxiety rising making him feel physically sick, Kid grits his teeth both his hands gripping onto the arms of his chair threatening to crack it under his grip. "Heat… Get on with it" Kid growls in a low tone, one he rarely uses, his anger spikes the longer Heat takes to talk but when he does the three of them stop in their tracks of high emotion "Y/n… she- she used to do beauty contest and pageants from a young age-" Before he can finish Kid bursts out laughing, the anger he once held gone at how stupid it sounded, Killer next to him lets out a long sigh relaxing his shoulders and moving to lean against Kid's workbench trying to calm his beating heart down. Wire slaps Heat on the back giving him a shit eating grin while letting out a small huff of a laugh "Are you fucking kidding me man, thats it?" The tall man rolls his eyes.

Kid leans forward slapping his knee while trying to calm his laughter down "Oh! t-thats f-funny… Imagine our N/N in a fucking puffy dress… she would rather be burned alive then do that shit" Kid laughs hitting Killer on the arm lightly managing to get a laugh out of his partner but the masked man quickly stops himself as Heat growls taking a step closer to the two with bright red cheeks "No really, she's won a bunch, and… She looks good in all of them but.." Heat yells only to stop himself and look down the redness in his cheeks fading away as anger starts to overcome him, Kid raises an eyebrow at his friend wondering why there would be a 'But' in that sentence while Killer looks the stitched man over frowning under his mask. A pit forms in Heat's stomach thinking his captain and maybe even Killer will kill him for thinking your hot but it has nothing to do with that. "I'm not hitting on your girl or anything Captain, its just, I'm concerned some of them are… provocative for a young girl.. i mean the newest ones i could find was when she was 16" Heat tries to explain backing up a bit in hopes his Captain won't kill him, Killer's shoulders tense his hands turning to fists at his side, anger flows through him, not at Heat's commenting on your body, but he can see what his friend is starting to get at. "I don't think she wanted to do it, she always has this fake smile in the photos and her mother is the center of any article about her wins. All she talks about though is weight loss, beauty is pain and shit like, heck there's a part in one new's paper where she openly praises eating disorders" anger boils inside the stitched man making his body start to warm up and smoke start to leave his mouth.

Wire takes a step back not wanting to get to close to the now fire angry man his gaze flicking to the captain secretly asking if he should step in but Kid's eyes are angrily locked onto Heat who continues to rant "I mean if thats what she says when Y/n is winning then what the fuck is she saying when Y/n's losing? I found out from one of maids that used to work there that Y/n had to have reconstructive surgery on both her ears after her mother deiced to piece them with a hot needle and an ice cube, she got other pageant moms to hold her down and then forced her on stage after to prance around in a pretty dress and for what? Winning a gift card… yea thats the fucking prize, a 50 berri gift card and a plastic crown. How stupid is that? The shit that lady made Y/n go threw is ridiculous, i mean calorie control books, daily weighing, restricting or even locking away food if she weighed even a little over, pulling her out of school to be pretty and proper like some little lap dog and almost beating her because she cut her hair without permission. That Bitch is crazy and as for her farther he's just as bad he-" Heat only stops his rant when Wire grabs him pulling the stitched man into a hug, one arm around his waist and the other holding his head to the tall man's chest, thick smoke coats the air as Heat pants making the room stuffy but none of the men move to open the door. Kid's hands shake as they grip together, his body now leaning forwards and his elbows on his knee's letting his mind go run through all the strange stuff you used to do and say.

It all made sense now, why you never got your ears pierced, why you always insisted on working out even when tired or in pain, why you never wanted to wear makeup or dresses and why you hated people commenting on your body, it makes him sick to think he used to tease you over this stuff, liking getting a little rise out of you but now he just feels like a dick. Killer grabs the edge of the workbench making it squeak under the amount of strength he's using, he has his own personal image issues and you've been nothing but sportive thought it, always knowing what to say and how to comfort him, he's done the same for you but hearing this just makes him so mad. You never minded talking about food or helping out with food but you never wanted to know anything about Calorie's or fat content, its clear now why, and he's just thankful that you don't have an eating disorder now, the past might have been different, so he'll make a mental note to talk to you about it tomorrow, he needs to know how deep this goes, he doesn't want you to end up like him, hiding behind a mask and unable to look at himself in the mirror with feeling a sickness growing inside. Before he wouldn't lay a hand on your mother only for your sake but after hearing this he wants nothing more than to wrap his hand around her throat and make her bag you for forgiveness before ending her life weather you like it or not.

With the room oddly silent it gives everyone time to go through their own thoughts and feelings on the matter but Heat knows there's more, he's only talked about your mother, he hasn't even gotten onto your farther yet and there's still more stuff to go through. The beauty contests seemed to be the main problem to everyone who used to work for the family, but he knows you well enough to know that its just the tip of the iceberg, it runs deeper, and he's not sure if he wants to find out how deep. "No wonder she hates being called pretty and beautiful, imagine a bunch of old sweaty judges, family and so called friends commenting on your body for years, judging you on your looks and nothing else" Heat sighs letting the flames in his throat die down and the smoke in his mouth starting to thin out, patting his friends back Wire lets go to unlock the door and open it, letting the smoke flow out of the room, stepping out he looks both ways down the long hallway seeing a cabin boy mopping the floor with wide eyes. "There's no fire, head up top and tell everyone to stay away until further notice" Wire blankly states earning a nod from the boy who quickly grabs his bucket and mop before rushing down the hall and up to the deck, now the area is clear the tall man turns back to his friends letting out a sigh, he tried not to get too angry about it all but even he has his limits. Wire is extremely good at hiding how he's really feeling, even better than Killer which is saying something but even know he's finding it difficult to keep his straight face.

Kids leg bounces as a growl leaves his lips and his amber eyes travel from the floor to the stitched man now leaning against the wall "Her Farther… what did he do?" The captain pushes those words through gritted teeth wanting to know everything before he storms off and releases some steam, with a sigh that releases a little more smoke Heat turns his head to look at the door annoyed at himself for letting the smoke get this bad "Mohawk managed to dig up a few things but there isn't a lot, he's still an ass but at least it sounds like he didn't physically hurt N/n" Killer rolls his eyes not feeling any better about this even though he knew his friend was trying not to make himself and everyone else more angry "Mohawk found that the company in the north blue was having some money issues for almost a year, at the same time Y/n stops doing any kind of contests or pageants, once the issues was resolved though Y/n started doing them again. I think he got Y/n to do all that work just to cast her aside after she was no longer useful, what a prick." Heat slumps against the wall now looking up at the ceiling in order to try and control the fire starting to burn in his throat again, Wire sighs walking over and patting the stitched man on the shoulder, he know something like that would hit you hard. They all see the way your eyes light up when ever you get praised for your work, your also very dedicated making sure everything is in order and perfect. "She's does has siblings but only the youngest who's the first boy in the family is the air to the companies, i couldn't find much on him other than he's still very young" Heat concludes glad he got all of it out, but he wonders if this information was even useful, there is a chance they could remind you of all the shit your family did and that will make you come back but at the same time you remember all of it and still somehow chose to keep them around.

Killers hand grips the desk hard enough for it to crack a chunk off, he flinches slightly bringing his hand up to see the chunk of wood and a bit of metal still gripped tightly in his hand, the anger inside of him is still there, and he knows he needs to calm down before he breaks more of the ship. Kid growls while leaning back in his chair, his hands shaking with anger and the need to lash out, his mind races with things he wants to do and say to your parents making his mind block out the destitution between Wire and Heat "So what about the marines? Why ain't they here if their so buddy buddy?" The tall mans asks feeling like something is off about all this but Heat just shrugs "I don't know, he seems to be friends with most of the lower level marines but other than that i can't find anything too useful." Without a word Kid quickly stands his hands grabbing the arms of his chair and flinging it back into the wall before storming out of the room, his anger getting the better of him, Killer quickly follows with no intention to stop his partner while Wire and Heat rush out unsure of what their captains plan is. Slamming the door to the deck open the crew who are there jump in surprise most moving out of the raging captains way, those who didn't are shoved aside with a gruff huff or a warning growl, the captains eyes are fixed on your parents ship currently five rows over, the guards in duty stand tall one on either side of the ramp while servants run around none of them noticing the heavy aura that starts to emanate from Kid, he knows exactly what he wants to do, destroy their ship and make your parents pay.

He can't hold back any longer with anger reaching an almost overwhelming level, storming down the dock his eyes are fixed on the almost royal looking ship as his boots stomp heavily across the wood making it crack in places and splinter in others, it isn't long before his actions draw an audience of his crew, the men and women of the ship running to the railing of their ship in order to see what's going on. Killer along with Heat and Wire make their way up too knowing know what is going to happen, Heat lets a large smile form on his face as he takes a step towards the ramp leading down onto the dock wanting to join in the distraction only to be grabbed roughly by Wire "Shit, Captain wait" The tall man yells knowing its reached his captains ears since he earns a middle finger in response "Stay here" Wire growls down at the stitched man who growls back while crossing his arms over his chest, he wants to join his captain but Wire can be very scary when he gets mad so opts to do as he's told. Running off the ship the tall man quickly turns back expecting Killer to be right behind him only to see empty space, looking back onto the ship the masked man hasn't moves from his spot just watching his captain angrily make his way to the last dock. He should stop Kid, if he does the captain will listen, they might fight about it later but, no, after everything he's heard he won't stop his partner, they deserve what ever comes to them, you might hate them for it but at this point he doesn't care. A part of him wants to order Wire back to the ship but with his anger seething inside he can't get anything through his gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

With a groan of frustration Wire runs off his longs legs making it easy for him to catch up to Kid just as the captain starts gathering metal around his arm hoping to sink the ship which is now just down the long dock "Captain… Kid stop" Wire rushes in front of the red head trying to stop the man from doing anything too bad, he wants these people to pay for what they've done but there's too many things to consider, one, the marines might get involved which means another big fight and them unable to stay here for too long, two, they have no idea how your going to react when finding out, you might not come back with them which leads to them just taking you by forth which won't go down well and three, the captains rage won't just stop at the ship, it'll carry on until he's satisfied which means the whole island will be burning including the hospital your in. "I know your angry, and they deserve what ever comes to them but not now" Wire still tries to convince his captain while starting to step back seeing the red head not slowing down or stopping, he knows if he stays in the way he'll get shoved aside or worse thrown. "Get the fuck out of my way, i'm gonna tare them apart, rip them limb from bloody limb, make them beg for forgiveness then deny them the sweet relief of death until I'm satisfied" Kid growls with a sickening smirk, one that just oozes blood-lust almost making his mouth water, the captains metal arm becomes huge casting a shadow over your parents ship which is now only a few steps away.

The guards on the deck rush over with guns and swords but their weapons are pulled out of their hand adding to the still growing fist, those in the ship either cower in fear, frozen unable to move or run around calling for people to get off the ship and onto the deck "Eustass Kid, what the meaning of this?" The familiar grinding voice of your farther yells out from behind the captain getting the red head to turn his head, burning amber eyes glaring at your Stoic farther who's walking down the dock to his ship surprisingly calm for a man now in the eyesight of a raging supernova. "You bastard, What the fuck do you want from her?" Kid's voice echo's out as his metal hand grips onto the mast of the ship the once perfect glistening white and chestnut wood splintering at his light grip, he wasn't going to destroy the ship just yet, plus if your mother is on there he doesn't want it sinking yet, he wants to take her out himself. Your farther's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest "She is my daughter, i would do anything for her" The blatant lie causing another wave of anger to wash over the red head his metal hand unctuously gripping tighter until the mast cracks and splinters into pieces, the part above his hand creaking and falling into the ocean, screams and cry's call out as more servants and guards rush off the ship as it rocks from the waves. Some guards run up attempting to punch or kick Wire only for the tall man to kick them into the water and send a glare to anyone else who gets any ideas, he knows know there's nothing he can do to stop this so has no chose but to watch what ever unfolds and take out anyone who gets in his captains way. "Bullshit, if you actually cared you'd have kept her away from that bitch of a wife"

A gasp is heard from the crowd of people gathered at the end of the dock your mother pushing her way to the front with a frown clear on her face "How dare you, i gave that ungrateful child everything she could want" Kid's burning eyes slowly turn to look at the woman, its clear now she was acting back at the hospital, this is the real her "You conniving, vindictive cow" The captains voice sounds almost inhuman almost like a wolf drooling and snarling over its pray, Wire quickly moves out of the way as Kid lets go of all the metal he had been collecting letting it rain down into the ocean and onto the ship impaling wood, shattering glass windows and slicing through the rapes and sails so the captain can storm over to your mother. "Get away from her" Your farther yells but makes no move to get closer, guards moves to try and protect your mother trying to stop the man from getting any closer as the woman backs up becoming scares for her life. Killer's fists shake at his sides his anger also starting to grow at seeing your mother again, he can't hear what is being said, but he knows their certainly not apologizing for what they've done, honestly it wouldn't matter if they did or not they still deserve to pay, Heat growls his hands gripping into the wooden rail of the ship threatening to break it, his throat starts to warm up and smoke starts to leek out the corners of his stitched mouth. Neither of them can hold back any longer, in unison the two walk off the Victoria earning gulps, wide grins and looks of confusion from the crew watching on, neither of them knew what they were going to do once they made it to your parents but it wasn't going to be good.

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camzeecorner · 4 months ago

Text

RECORD STORE

Summary: Baylee loved music and frequently visited her favorite record store, where Matt worked. Over time, Matt developed a crush on her, noticing her every time she browsed through the records. She was drawn to the music, and he was drawn to her.

Warnings : none!

matt x fem!reader

(A/N: (this was supposed to be a blurb)..what??? Also this is HEAVILY based on Matt’s Panera bread girl era anyways enjoy hot mamas)

Baylee was crazy about music. She loved everything from records and jazz to hip hop, rock, nu-metal, and R&B. Music made her happy. Her dad was in a band when she was little, and he showed her how amazing music can be. Over the years, she learned to play different instruments and how to sing.

She made weekly trips to her favorite music store, they sold everything she loved. It was heaven to her, perfect in every way. She would stay there for hours playing different tunes and melodies on the keyboard. Testing out different instruments hearing how they each sounded. She was so in love with music she couldn’t ever find herself to leave until closing time.

Baylee found herself walking to ‘Notes’ smiling like a little kid on Christmas. She had just gotten paid so she had lots of money to spend today. It was about a 15 minute walk from her house, she never drove in that case. Seeing the store in a distance her footsteps seemed more eager and louder rushing to get there.

Ring!! 🛎️

Matt’s pov:

The bell on the door rung, signaling another customer had walked in. Seeing the familiar brown-haired girl, I smiled lightly at her. I greeted her more happily than I would with any of our other customers. “Good afternoon, hope you’re doing wonderful today. Looking for anything specific?” She was one of our regulars, coming in every week and staying for hours, adoring the music. I loved seeing how passionate the music made her. It was cute. “Thank you, I’m doing well. I’m not looking for anything specific right now, just browsing,”she smiled at me. Her smile was so beautiful. Watching her walk away, I caught myself staring at her from afar. Baylee was truly something special. She had a way of getting lost in the music, and it was clear that each note meant something to her. I found myself looking forward to her visits, just to see that spark in her eyes.

I would always catch myself thinking of her during my long shift, waiting for her arrival. She always came alone, so I figured she must not have had too many friends, also assuming she was single. She never talked much to me or anyone. I never had the courage to formally speak to her either. I was afraid deeply I would embarrass myself, stuttering over my words. It was best if I just stayed silent, admiring her.

I had told my friends about this ongoing crush, getting the advice I wanted to hear, hoping it would allow me to listen. 'Go talk to her, Matt.' 'Get her number, Matt.' I just couldn’t. Every time I saw her, my heart would race, and my mind would go blank.

She was like my perfect dream girl. The perfect girl who would giggle at my awkward jokes, the perfect girl who would blush when I called her pretty, the perfect girl who would sing me songs every night. The perfect girl I couldn’t have.

Every time she walked in, it felt like the world paused for a moment. She had this aura about her that made everything else fade into the background. I imagined what it would be like to hold her hand, to share stories and dreams, to be the reason behind her beautiful smile. But those were just dreams, and reality kept me at a distance.

Getting caught in my own thoughts, I saw her slim figure walking towards me. Getting ready to talk to her, my breathing became more intense, feeling my throat dry up. I coughed in hopes of getting better. 'Hi, I wanted to buy these.' She looked up to me with her light brown eyes. Smiling a little, she bit her lip in a nervous way. 'Yea.. yea okay,' I spoke quietly, cursing at myself in my head for sounding so stupid. I smiled quickly at her, grabbing the items in her hand. Feeling our skin touch, it was like fire.

As I rang up her items, I could feel my hands trembling slightly. She stood there, waiting patiently, her eyes occasionally meeting mine. I wanted to say something, anything, to keep her there a little longer. 'Do you come here often?' I blurted out, immediately regretting how cliché it sounded. She giggled softly, a sound that made my heart flutter. 'Yeah, I like the atmosphere here,I’m Baylee by the way” she replied, her voice gentle and soothing.

Handing her the bag, our fingers brushed once more, sending another jolt of electricity through me. 'Thanks,' she said, her smile widening. “Matt.. I’m Matt.” Oh my god matt please not now. I silently spoke in my head. “Maybe I'll see you around?” I nodded, too stunned to form a coherent response. She handed me her phone with her contacts open. “Put your number in” she giggled softly. She wanted my number? Quickly putting my number in her phone I handed her the phone back with a smile. As she walked away, I watched her go, a small spark of hope igniting within me. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something more.

Baylee’s pov:

Walking out of the music store, I checked the time on my phone. ‘9:02 pm’ my bright screen lit up. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I began making my way back to my apartment. The wind outside made the air feel refreshing and cool. Unlocking my door, I quickly kicked my shoes off and walked to my bedroom. Running my hand up and down the wall, finding the switch, I turned my light on, walking to my bed and setting my bags down. Walking towards my closet, I grabbed some shorts and my white long sleeve. I ran the shower while stripping out of my clothes, taking my hair out of my braided pigtails. Looking in the mirror, I inspected myself. ‘It was always right before showers when you felt prettier,’ I thought to myself. Stepping into the shower, the water hit against my tan skin. Relaxing in the water, I leaned my head back, allowing the water to run down my face. Soaking in the warm water, I began to lather soap on my loofa. Quickly stepping out of the shower, I placed my clothes on me, brushing my hair afterwards. I let my natural curls bounce on my shoulders as I walked back to my room. Walking back into my bathroom, I brushed my teeth and washed my face, doing whatever was needed before I could relax in bed.

Matts pov:

Settling into the comfort of my bed, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my messages, hoping to see a text from her. Nothing yet. I sighed and placed my phone on the nightstand, trying to push thoughts of her out of my mind. The gentle hum of the city outside my window was calming, almost like a lullaby. I pulled the covers up to my chin, feeling the warmth envelop me. My mind wandered back to the music store, to the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. I couldn’t help but replay our brief interaction over and over, dissecting every word, every look.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone buzzed. My heart skipped a beat as I reached for it, hoping it was her. And there it was—a message from her. 'Hey, it was nice seeing you today. Maybe we could grab coffee sometime?' A smile spread across my face as I typed back a quick reply, 'I’d love that.' Placing my phone back down, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation wash over me. Maybe tomorrow would bring something new, something more. With that thought, I let sleep take over, dreaming of what could be.

Time skip!!!!!! - next morning

Waking up, I yawned and stretched, still feeling groggy. I almost fell back asleep but managed to get up and head to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I grabbed my toothbrush and began brushing my teeth. My phone pinged, and I pulled it out of my pocket to check the message. ‘Hey, you free today?’ she had texted. I quickly replied, letting her know I had nothing planned.

After getting dressed in some comfortable clothes, I decided to tidy up my place a bit while waiting for her next message. I started by making my bed, then moved on to picking up some stray clothes and organizing my desk. The morning sun was beginning to fill the room, making it feel fresh and inviting.

I checked my phone again, but there was no new message yet. To pass the time, I decided to vacuum the living room and wipe down the kitchen counters. It felt good to keep busy, and it helped ease the anticipation. I knew that today could be the start of something special, and I wanted everything to be just right.

Baylee pov:

I get up starting to get ready for my day, washing my face, brushing my teeth, and cleaning up. I paced around my room, picking up things that were out of order. Pulling my phone out, I message Matt. ‘How does 11 sound, meet me at *****’ I put my phone back onto my desk. Walking over to my closet, I began running my hands through the different colors of clothes. Deciding on my favorite fall sweater, it was green and blue. I threw some loose blue jeans on top with my platform high-top converse. Spraying my perfume, I check the time and my phone, seeing Matt messaged me back. ‘Sounds perfect I’ll see you in a bit :)’. I smile at the smiley face; it was adorable. I had 15 minutes until it was time for me to leave, deciding to feed my cat before I left.

I walked into the kitchen, where my cat, Whiskers, was already waiting by his bowl. "Morning, Whiskers," I said, scratching him behind the ears before filling his bowl with food. He purred happily and started eating. I grabbed a quick snack for myself and checked my reflection one last time in the hallway mirror. Everything seemed perfect.

With a few minutes to spare, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. The cool morning air felt refreshing as I made my way to the coffee cafe.

Walking out my house to my garage, I quickly get in my car shutting the door behind me. I turned the radio on smiling to myself as I hear ‘clay pigeons’ playing softly. Turning the radio up I began making my way to the cafe.

Pulling into the parking lot, I take my keys out putting them in my bag getting out of my car. I walked to the door, entering hearing the bell I was all too familiar with ring. Scanning over the crowd of people I spot Matt quickly.

I wasn’t even sure why I had gave him my number, or asked him to get coffee today. He was cute but we never really talked much. Only having brief interactions and conversations when I was at his job. Even then I didn’t really make time to bother him. It must’ve been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Walking over to Matt I sat down catching his attention. “Hey” he spoke to me. He looked and sounded nervous. I found that endearing. I smiled at him, feeling a light blush creep on to my face.”Hi Matt”

No one’s pov:

We exchanged pleasantries, and the initial awkwardness started to melt away. After ordering our coffees we settled into a comfortable rhythm. Matt leaned in curiously, “so why do you like music so much?” He asked genuinely interested.

I took a moment to think my finger tracing the rim of my mug. “Music has always been a big role in my life. It’s like a soundtrack to all my memories and emotions. Whenever I’m feeling something deeply, there’s always a song that matches perfectly. Plus it’s a great escape, you know?”

Matt nods his head agreeing with her. “You seem to be really connected with music. Everyday when you came in just.. always seemed really focused.” Listening to him speak, she was surprised at how well he paid attention to her. “What you stalk me?” She asked with a small laugh. “No no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just see you a lot-” He stopped when he heard her laugh at him. “I was only joking. I know you’re not stalking me.” She looked into his eyes smiling at him. He smiled back at her softly.

They continued their conversation quickly learning they were alike in many ways. They spent about 2 hours talking with each other. She learned he was a triplet, being the middle child. He studied music which is why he chose to work in a music store. He found joy in watching YouTube videos, so much he actually gave it a shot too every once in a while. He learned she didn’t have any friends, was also studying music and she an only child. Her life sounded lonely so when he offered to keep her company when he was free she quickly accepted his offer.

Over time they got closer, he introduced her to his brothers, who also became her friends quickly too. She invited him to her home, where they spent a lot of their time at. Matt’s small crush grew more and more over time. Wondering when he would tell her.

Sitting on her bed they were watching a documentary. Turing his head to look at her, he took in all the details about her that he found unique. “You’re really pretty, you know that?” Matt spoke quietly. Barley hearing his voice you turned to him. “Really? You think so?” Watching Matt nod so calmly made her wonder. “Thank you” she sat there looking at him. Watching his face waiting for a reaction. Minutes had passed time going as they just laid limp on her bed.

Matt felt his eyes burning into hers quickly shifting his gaze onto her lips. She took notice of that feeling herself pull her body towards him. Matt felt his breath get cut short. Feeling the heat from her face radiating through her mouth. Her skin so close to his. Their mouths hovering over each other. She thought if this was a good idea.

Feeling her lips softly press against his, he stayed stiff full of shock. He stayed there for a little until he felt himself kissing her back. Cupping the sides of her face to bring her into him even more. Pulling away foreheads still connected, they panted lightly out of breath. She smiled at him pulling him into another kiss this time returning it faster than he did the first one.

The night had been filled with cuddles and kisses here and there. Enjoying the feeling of their skin pressed against each other. The warmth in their bodies keeping them both comfortable. Matt never thought he would see himself laying in the same bed with the girl he had been obsessed with from a record store.

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