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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 4 years ago

Text

sweet like the thunder on my tongue

pairing: willex

word count: 2786

tw for light swearing

It tumbles out of his mouth before he could even think about it: “But I don’t have any powers.”

Caleb smirks. “And who told you that?”

or, in which willie realizes his true strength.

taglist is in the reblogs, fic is under the cut!

—————

“Willie?”

The skater’s head pops up, cutting off the conversation he was having to look over at his boss.

“Can I see you for a moment? In my office?” Caleb gestures toward the stairwell.

Wordlessly, Willie follows him, only growing concerned when they walk right past the office and towards another room at the end of the hall which he’d never paid any mind to before. Was that door even there before? “Caleb, what’s going on?”

Caleb opened the door to the room and ushered him inside-- well, more shoved, but who is Willie to talk back to him right now-- while all Willie could do was look around and wait for Caleb to say something. The room was dark-- pitch black, actually, and he couldn’t see anything inside. He could now barely see his own hands, if not for the single hanging light above Caleb’s head as he stood in the hallway still, blocking the doorframe. With a wave of his fingers, Caleb pushed Willie down into some kind of, apparently, vantablack chair, metal clamps fastening around his wrists as soon as he reached the seat. Caleb leaned against the doorframe, seemingly inspecting his nails. “You’ve betrayed me, William.”

Willie steels himself, squeezing his eyelids shut, and replies, “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His efforts to cover his tracks were pitiful, to be completely honest. He wasn’t sure how much energy he had left at that point; before he’d met the band— before he’d met Alex— he thought that the best thing about the afterlife was that he could do what he wanted for as long as he wanted, day in and day out, as long as he came back to the club to do the shows. But now, his entire perspective has been shaken up, and he’s honestly gotten sick of doing the same things every single day. Why should he go see the same sights he’s seen since 1983 when he could be screaming in a museum, or stealing an entire fucking bus, or anything that can actually make a connection between him and another person?

Except, now he can’t even do that anymore. His connections are gone. They all crossed over (except for Julie, who never saw him in the first place), and he was left to his own devices, again. Willie isn’t sure what else there is for him to do, and in all transparency, if he hasn’t figured out his unfinished business yet, he doubts he ever will. Caleb putting him out of his misery now would probably just save him a lot of trouble.

“Don’t be coy,” Caleb jabs at him, standing up straight. “After all I’ve done for you? I gave you a place to stay, food to eat, things to do, and this is how you repay me? You help my recruits escape?”

Willie sighs, the helplessness beginning to overwhelm him. “What does it matter, anyway? They’ve crossed over, you don’t have competition anymore, right?”

“William, the boys are still out there. And they’ve lost their stamps.” Willie freezes. They lost their stamps? Alex is alive— or, at least, as alive as he can be? “Regardless, I have never been worried about competition. Those boys have power, power that could rival my own. I can’t just have that out there in the world, where it could fall into the wrong hands, now, can I?” Caleb sneers, a sickenly sweet smirk on his face.

Furrowing his brows, Willie rushes out in reply, “They’re playing in a pop rock band, they’re practically harmless, what could they even—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Caleb interrupts, his icy eyes boring into Willie’s own.

Willie shuts his mouth and swallows his nerves. And maybe his pride.

Caleb leans forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I can’t have anyone’s power rival my own. That would steal away my precious audience, my empire that I’ve built over the last hundred years. Every ghost in my club would otherwise be a threat to me, had they not signed away their powers when they sold me their souls. With their powers under my possession, I have full reign over any paranormal capabilities that this world could possibly hold.” He stands back up. “I’ve kept my enemies close, you could say.”

It tumbles out of his mouth before he could even think about it: “But I don’t have any powers.”

Caleb smirks. “And who told you that?”

Willie was looking right at him. He feels no need to answer, and even if he wanted to, his mouth is going dry and there’s a lump in his throat preventing him from doing anything other than remaining still.

“Don’t get your hopes up about the boys still being here, William,” Caleb says after a moment. “They won’t be when you get out.” He slams the door, leaving Willie in the room, with nothing but dark, dark, dark, alone.

***

“Alright, where’s our first stop?” Luke asks as Julie shrugs her backpack over her shoulder and takes a sip from her water bottle. She and the boys were walking down Sunset Boulevard, her with Airpods in so she could talk to the boys without getting odd looks from others. Julie was planning a sleepover with Flynn for the following night, and the boys jumped at the chance to help her run errands, since hanging out in the studio was getting a little boring.

“Can we stop for pizza? I know we can’t eat it, but at least I can smell it!” Reggie pleads, using his puppy dog eyes.

“Reg, that face only works on Luke and Alex. You can smell it tomorrow night when she’s over, yeah?” Julie jokes. “I was thinking—”

A dark, purple smoke appears in front of them, causing them to stumble and still themselves, the boys’ faces all paling once they realize who’s in front of them.

Caleb smiles, sickeningly sweet. “Hello, boys. And you must be Julie.”

***

He has powers.

Willie has powers, and he hadn’t known this entire fucking time.

This guy, who was supposed to be Willie’s mentor for the past, who knows, thirty-ish years now, who he had once looked up to, who had taken him in has his own, who had given him a way to keep track of time again, who somehow knew he had powers that he couldn’t manage on his own, did all of it for his own advantage. He used him to gain more power and control, while making Willie think he cared. Thirty fucking years.

Right now, he’s trapped in this room, yeah, but Willie feels more suffocated by the hurt and confusion surrounding him more than anything else. He can’t stand that Alex and the boys are probably out there right now, about to be destroyed by Caleb, because of him, again. He hates that nearly all of his afterlife has just been a giant fucking lie. And with these stupid new-but-not-really powers, he doesn’t even know where to start. So, he does what he knows best.

Willie screams.

He cries a bit too, but mostly he screams until his voice grows hoarse.

Ever since he passed away, he’s always loved the feeling that grows in his chest when he screams, knowing that he can just take up so much space without anyone (or at least, anyone important) hearing. It hurts sometimes, obviously, but really it just feels like lightning forming in his veins, sparking against his the walls of his skin, ready to burst through.

He doesn’t notice until he takes a gasp for air that this time, it actually has.

Willie gasps again, this time in shock. It’s a bright, brilliant green, wires of light darting across his fingertips and palms. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Willie squeezes his eyes shut and makes two fists, willing the stinging of the lightning to go away by distracting himself with the stinging of his own fingernails. He realizes then that he’s created light, that he’s given himself a way out, so he reopens his hands and holds them out, looking for the door that Caleb had previously slammed. He spots it and moves to get up, almost forgetting about his arm braces. He curses under his breath, and begins to rack his brain for a way out of them, the green still dancing around his arms.

He screams again.

***

They’d been cornered into an alleyway, which was probably best for any bystander’s sanity, anyway, but it meant that they were trapped by Caleb. Again.

“What do you want with us?” Luke had asked when Caleb first appeared, walking in front of Julie with a guarding arm.

Caleb had sighed in reply, taking a step forward, “Oh, I’ve decided I don’t need you three anymore. You’re not of any use to me, not without your lifer by your side. Without a life source, you’re about as powerful as any other regular ghost. I just need her.”

Luke stood fully in front of Julie then, Reggie and Alex flanking him to protect her. “You will never get to her,” Alex had chimed in, ice in his tone.

“Bold statement from someone who still chooses to hide behind his friends.” Alex had looked down at his shoes in shame, face turning red. “Oh, don’t worry, we all know you’re not brave enough to take me on by yourself,” Caleb chuckled to himself. “Besides, you boys seem to have forgotten how powerful I am— or can we do without the reminder?” Caleb added, lifting his hand as a wisp of purple smoke curled around it.

Now, after putting up a decent fight, they stand against the building as dark purple webs tangle over them, effectively pinning them down. Julie strains against them as they burn into her skin, pointedly not looking at Caleb who is inches away. Caleb puts a finger to her chin, causing her to look into his eyes. Julie sucks on her teeth, willing herself not to cry any more than she already has. “Quite a shame that such talent, such heart has to go to waste,” Caleb says, before his hand begins to glow in a manner that Julie knows could only lead to her demise.

He’s interrupted, however, by a slew of car alarms going off. Caleb swivels his head to look over at the main road, now realizing that it’s… empty?

Almost moving to walk over, Caleb hesitates just enough for the webs’ strength to weaken, and the boys poof out of their hold. They immediately begin trying to pull the web of magic off of Julie, succeeding in doing so once they notice that Caleb’s attention is no longer on them. He’s in the road now, staring down the horizon line.

“He’s distracted now, let’s poof to the studio to buy some time,” Reggie says, but Luke quickly counters, “Julie can’t poof. We would have to go back down the road, anyway.”

While Luke and Reggie are trying to figure out what to do, Julie’s eyes stray over to Alex, who is now peering around the corner of the building, eyebrows furrowed. He suddenly runs over to the road, and Julie calls after him. The three run to catch up to Alex and stand in terror just a few feet behind Caleb, who is still seemingly frozen in place.

They feel it before they can see it.

The hair on their arms and the backs of their necks begin to stand on end, a quiet humming in the atmosphere causing an adrenaline rush kind of energy around them. The humming thrums into a pulse, concentrating around what Caleb must’ve been looking at; a sharp, sparking green light floating in the air down the road. It grows bigger and bigger, until a silhouette suddenly appears in its place, looking at the ground. “Hey, Caleb!”

Alex’s heart stops when he realizes who it is.

Willie looks up from the ground and begins to make his way over, thunderous step by thunderous step. His eyes shine fully in bright green, almost like the lightning inside of him was leaking out. He reaches forward and a beam of crackling light shoots forward, splitting and clasping itself around Caleb’s wrists in constraint. With rumbling intensity, Willie continues, “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me my entire afterlife, pretending to care. Every time you stamped someone, you told me it was because they would be dangerous otherwise, that you were just ‘protecting the ghost world’, and then you turn and do it to my friends. You’ve hurt me, you’ve hurt the people I care about, and it doesn’t even matter to you. I don’t even want to know the number of other ghosts you’ve screwed over like you have us.” Willie heaves in a breath, his arm beginning to shake as Caleb tries to overpower him with his own powers. “I can’t let you do this anymore.”

Caleb grits through his teeth, “You don’t get much of a say, William, I own you.”

“Not anymore.” Willie screams again, causing the beam shooting out of his palm to reinforce itself, the sparks around Caleb’s wrists slowly crawling around his skin until it looked like his veins were filled with light. “You aren’t strong enough to beat me, William, I know you more than you know yourself. You can’t do this,” Caleb tries, but Willie just screams louder, drowning him out.

The screams nearly shake the air, causing Julie to lean on Luke for support, with Reggie resting a hand on her shoulder. Alex wants to reach out, to do something, but he knows there’s nothing he really can do to help. He knew Willie was one of a kind, it was obvious from every interaction they’d had up to that point, but he never expected him to be that powerful. It was terrifying, if he was being honest. And Alex didn’t want to be scared of him, especially while he was literally putting his life on the line for them, but it was almost as if Willie was losing control.

Wait.

A small, dwindling purple smoke emits from Caleb’s palms, encircling the cuffs on his wrists, and the green light inside of him dims. Willie is panting in between his screams, running out of energy. Inhaling sharply, Alex doesn’t think twice before bolting over to him, ignoring the protests from his friends.

Alex stands behind him and grips his hands onto Willie’s shoulders, focusing all of his energy into his fingertips, just like he had on that day in the museum. And, just like that day, he screams with Willie, hoping and praying to a god he no longer believes in that it helps, that it works.

It does.

The lightning bursts out at a rapid speed, nearly enveloping Caleb, almost as if it was tearing him apart, atom by atom. It grows brighter, and brighter, and brighter, until—

He’s gone. Small ashes lie in the spot where Caleb once stood, now dissipated into thin air.

Willie collapses to the ground in exhaustion and Alex grasps onto him, as if he’ll disappear himself if he lets go. After a brief moment, Willie takes a sharp breath, wincing in a burning, stinging type of pain, and lets out a breath of relief once it goes away. He knows exactly what that was, he could feel it; his soul was finally back in his body.

Willie looks down at his wrist. The familiar stamp from the Hollywood Ghost Club is still there, however it no longer has its signature purple sheen. It’s black and faded now, like a thirty-year-old tattoo he’s come to regret.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, pulling away, his face the picture of worry. Willie notices then that Julie, Luke, and Reggie are knelt next to him, too, their own expressions almost as bad as Alex’s.

Willie smiles a sad smile. It’s a weak thing, but it’s genuine. “You’re still here.”

Recognition washes over Alex’s face, and he softly lifts his hand to Willie’s chin. “Of course I am. I told you, I’d follow you anywhere, yeah?”

Willie chuckles and ducks his head. “Yeah, well, somehow, you did.”

Alex lightly pulls on his chin so he can look him in the eye, a burning intensity present there that Willie hasn’t seen in, well, thirty years. “We can explain that later, okay? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Willie does a small nod. “I will be.”

Alex pulls him back into a tight hug, and Willie sinks into his arms. He knows they’ll both ask questions later; all that matters right now is that they’re there, that they’ve got each other.

And now, they always will.

#sweet like the thunder on my tongue fic #mari writes #willex #willie jatp #alex mercer #jatp #julie and the phantoms #willex fic #jatp fic

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wienerbarnes · 4 years ago

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When It’s Over

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,762

Warnings: canon level violence

A/N: back w cheek to cheek😌 there's some heavy inso from the fight scene from fatws w walker so peep that👀 as well as some linked references to past pieces!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

The near-silent sound of the door clicking shut wakes you up. While you know if there was some kind of actual threat there’d be alarms and lights going off because of F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's security measures, your body still tenses at the unnatural sound.

Why is someone in your room in the middle of the night? Unless -

A sweaty and musky smell floods your nostrils as the intruder hunches over your body, burying their face into your neck and breathing in deeply before pressing a soft kiss. Bucky’s home.

You turn over and place your hands on either side of his face to kiss him properly but you pause when his face feels unnaturally wet.

“Is that sweat? Why are you all wet?” You whisper into the darkness, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your bedside table.

You gasp when the light reveals Bucky’s face, neck, and hair drenched in blood. You eyes roam the rest of his body to see his tactical gear in the same condition.

“Jesus, Bucky, who were you fighting?”

He smirks, fatigue clouding his features, “You should see the other guys.” Your eyebrows scrunch at the sound of more than one person as he reaches into one of his pant pockets, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper.

He hands it to you and turns away to begin stripping off his dirty clothes. You unfold it carefully so as to not rip it or mangle it up further to reveal your list, with all of the names crossed off harshly and a new one added at the bottom, a name not in your handwriting nor in your memory.

“Is this what you were doing? Who is the last name? I didn’t write that.” While you're upset he lied to you, you feel an indescribable sense of relief wash over you, a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. No more HYDRA after you. No more handlers. No more guards after your blood, your powers.

“The soldier who shot you. With the metal arms. I destroyed everything that even looked a little bit like a serum in every building I went to, so I think he’s the last super soldier. Or at least for now. I hope.” He tells you, finally down to his underwear. He’s still breathing kind of heavily, probably from pure exhaustion. He’s only been gone for six days and he took out all the names on your list. Did he even sleep?

You’re still holding the list in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered. He uses his towel to scrunch out as much water from his hair as he can and tosses it in the pile of dirty clothes. He pulls on a pair of underwear and doesn’t even bother putting on actual pajamas, approaching the bed.

“I promise we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. He’s supposed to be in Minsk. I’m so fucking tired…” He sighs, trailing off, taking the list from your hands and placing it on the nightstand, turning off the lamp.

“Where is that?”

“Belarus. Above Ukraine.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up. And for not telling you, I didn’t want to -”

“Shh, don’t apologize. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m just glad you’re home.”

The thought of technically being free hasn’t hit you, it hasn’t even begun being processed by your brain yet. It probably won’t for a while, a few days, maybe weeks. No more HYDRA.

Bucky slumps into the mattress next to you, not even getting under the covers, too tired to adjust his position. You get out from under the covers as well, pushing yourself up against his back, spooning him like a backpack, trying to pull him as close to you as possible.

In less than a week, he got rid of everything and everyone you’ve been afraid of for years. People you had nightmares about, that hounded your every thought every single hour of every single day. He got rid of them for you.

He grabs your hand that rests on his chest and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it.

No more fear.

...

Bucky sleeps for fourteen hours, into the following evening. He wakes up to the smell of toasted bread, the crust around his eyes pinching at his skin until he brings up his right hand to rub it away. He sees your back at the counter and after another deep inhale, smells acidic tomato and smoky bacon.

Sandwiches for lunch. He glances at the clock to see the time as 5:18. Sandwiches for dinner.

He lets out a long yawn as he sits up, left arm reaching up to scratch at his head, hair feeling knotted due to the fact that he fell asleep with it wet. I need another haircut soon.

He gets up and walks around the kitchen island to greet you, despite missing most of the day. You turn to face him as you hear his footsteps approach and reach up to plant a long kiss on his mouth.

“I have mornin’ breath,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, hands resting gently on the tops of your shoulders as he feels your hand wrap around his naked waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.” You kiss him again and again, harder and harder each time.

“Babe,”

“You freed me.” More kisses.

“Huh,” He giggles against your lips, finding your affection amusing, but unknowingly needed.

“I love you. Thank you. You freed me, you saved me.” You repeat, kisses smacking in between your words.

He thinks back to the mangled list he tossed in your direction last night, how he came home covered in blood in an exhausted haze. You freed me, you tell him. From HYDRA, he understands.

“You don’t thank me for nothing,” He pulls away, hands cupping your face in order to temporarily stop your kisses, “I love you. I’ll do anything for you. It’s the bare minimum.” He tells you.

All you do is stare up at his blue eyes. As though he’s Atlas, holding up the world underneath your feet. The bare minimum. How he’s ruined you for any man or person at all with the way he treats you, the way he loves you. You don’t look away from him with your loving stare as he steals a piece of bacon off the pan on the stove before turning and going into the bathroom.

...

You, Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin occupy the small jet on the way to Belarus.

“Who are we fighting again?” Sam asks, half-serious, as he adjusts the shield on his back.

“His name is Jean-Baptiste Allaire. But I don’t think he knows that.”

“...Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“A bad guy.” Bucky answers this time.

I suppose that is all he really needs to know.

Soon enough the plane lands and the three of you go off, leaving Torres in the jet to monitor and wait in case there’s a need for backup, eventually ending up in a dilapidated building. You assume it’s a facility used to house the soldier, if Bucky was able to trace him back to here. They probably keep him away from the major facilities with most of the guards to limit the risk of him dying during raids or other compromises, you think.

“Be careful around this guy.” Bucky warns Sam as you get closer, approaching the building, slowly walking down a long hallway in order to find anything that would signify him being here.

Bucky slows down, causing everyone else to slow down as they approach the end of the hallway, allowing the only option to turn to the left, revealing a large cell, the soldier sitting in the corner.

A flash of confusion flashes across his face before it disappears, an emotionless expression replacing it as he stands, the whirring of his metal arms being the only sound as he approaches the three of you, ready to fight.

The three of you back up down the hallway to allow more space, but it doesn’t last long as he begins to attack, launching himself at Sam to start mindlessly fighting.

The soldier and Sam throw punches at each other and you run over to help, but as you come up to them, he whips around, grabbing you by the collar of your tactical vest, and throws you across the room with one swing.

“Woah!” Your body smashes into a wall, a loud creaking sound coming from the metal of his arms as your body makes impact and slams to the ground.

“Shit!” You groan, getting ignored as the three men fight each other. He’s strong as fuck.

Your vision stops spinning and you stand, a shield whizzing past your head, nearly decapitating you, and lodging itself into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s already got blood all over his face from fighting him, and you take a wild guess that the soldier has some sort of serum that’s the same or stronger than Bucky’s in his body.

He grabs Bucky and flings him to the side, his body crashing into the cell he was originally in. A metal pole with wires wrapped around it stands in the middle of the small cell, which Bucky’s body slams into, electrocuting him and knocking him unconscious.

You remember Bucky explaining to you one time that he was always going to be a lot more sensitive to electrocution and shock therapy after what HYDRA would do to him, regardless of how super he is.

You look to Sam to see the soldier straddled on top of him, throwing punch after punch into his face, then moving to tear off one of Sam’s wings with his bare hands, sparks flying around them.

Suddenly something flows through you. Not something; anger. Pure rage. You realize that this guy is out to kill and it’s like a switch has been flipped. You're reaching over towards the wall and ripping out the shield, throwing it as hard as you can and hitting the soldier in the side of the face.

You march over while he’s distracted and disoriented by the blood pouring out of his head and kick the side of his face, knocking him over and off of Sam. You use the same leg to kick at the shield that’s now on the ground, flipping it up into your hands, and slam the flattest part down onto his head, using it to block the punch he throws.

You toss it to the side and straddle him yourself when you get a split second of a chance, him hitting you with a gnarly punch - a Bucky-level, super-soldier punch - but you hit him back, ignoring the fiery hot pain that explodes in your face. Though not as strong, you feel your fists break his nose and crack his cheek bone, his blood making your hands stickier and stickier as you punch and punch and punch.

“Don’t! Touch! My! Friends!” You yell in between punches, using both your hands to slam down at the same time, blood dripping from your own face from his singular punch.

You slam both hands onto either side of his face, and in a second, you realize you’ve tapped into his brain. His arms drop to the ground beside his body and you’re in complete control.

Never have you ever tapped into someone’s mind so quickly. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fiery anger of seeing your friends getting hurt that made it so easy.

You smile wickedly, laughing in his face, “Now, you’re mine.” You pant through your teeth.

“51, don’t.” Bucky groans. You glance up to see him on his hands and knees now, still feeling the after effects of the electricity, small sparks jumping from creases in his arm. You look over to the side to see Sam also leaned over on the ground, looking at you. Waiting.

They’re not scared of you, but they’re… wary. Everytime you’ve controlled someone’s mind, they’ve died. The man from prison. The scientist from the HYDRA video. Dead in a second because of your powers.

Bucky looks at you and he sees the same girl from that video years ago, one of few survivors of a HYDRA facility, smiling with blood caked in between the cracks of your teeth, pure powerful energy running through your veins.

The soldier lays underneath you, unmoving. You look down at him again and his eyes are pooling with fear. An understandable feeling for someone who’s aware of what’s happening, who’s present in the moment, but has zero control of their body. A feeling he probably knows very well being under the control of HYDRA.

He probably came into the picture after Bucky’s escape and the initial fall of HYDRA, a sad soul that was captured and forced to comply. A job that used to be yours. Tortured, arms torn away, and mind blended until he didn’t know anything other than to fight.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing,” You reassure, “Maybe just… have him jog around the block in his underwear a few times. For fucking up my shoulder and all.”

You release his face from in between your palms, forcing his head to slam back onto the concrete floor.

“Don’t. Move.” You point at him with a bloody finger.

You take one final look at him before standing up off of him and turning to walk back in the direction of the jet.

“I’m not waiting around for the feds,” You mumble, exhausted. Your face is pounding less and less and just going numb altogether, which you don’t think is a good sign.

“Go after her,” Sam tells Bucky, “I’ll call Torres to come over and help me. And reach out to Shuri, see if there’s anything she can do to help him.” The soldier remains unmoving on the ground, eyes shooting around the room wildly, but body stiff as a board.

Bucky gets himself up, grabbing the vibranium shield and handing it back to Sam, who’s still groaning on the ground. It’s not easy fighting super soldiers, Bucky imagines. It’s not like Sam has mind powers.

He walks out of the building to try and catch up with you.

“Hey,” He says, gently reaching for your arm to pull you back towards him.

The blood from your shattered nose has now pooled down your chin and neck, soaking your tac gear. Bucky tilts your face up with barely any pressure. A thumb brushes across your face and you wince, but try not to move so he can assess you.

“I think your cheekbone is broken.”

“My fingers,” You all but whimper, bringing them up from your sides.

“Also broken. At least six of ‘em,” He presses and pulls along each of them, ignoring your wincing and pulls on your right middle finger, a pop sounding and a loud groan coming from your mouth, teeth clenching so hard you think you’ll crack them, “Five. That one was just dislocated.”

“You guys will help him, right?” You confirm, Bucky still gently roaming his hands along your body to check for major injuries.

“He didn’t do anything,” You whimper, and Bucky looks up to see tears in your eyes.

“Babe -”

“He’s not evil, he didn’t mean to do anything,” You cry, and begin to sob, your emotions overwhelming you.

“He didn’t, baby, we’ll help him as much as we can. Right now, we need to get you to the jet so we can go home and get you to the MedBay, can we do that? Can you walk, want me to carry you?” He coos, hating the sight of his girlfriend in both physical and emotional pain.

You sniffle and close your eyes, ducking your head, and Bucky takes your silence as a plea to be carried, gently scoping you up bridal style and carefully walking back in the direction of the jet. He hears a few more sniffles as you curl into his body, nuzzling into his jaw, as you close your eyes and try to ignore the pain in your face as much as you can.

“Can we go out tonight? To that little Italian place we went to that one time?”

“If you’re not too tired or in too much pain, sure, baby.”

“And a movie?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll wine and dine you real good.”

“Red wine or white?”

“We can have that pink raspberry one you like. The one that tastes nothing like wine.”

“Ugh, don’t make me smile, it hurts.”

“Sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #o she powerful #and overprotective of her frens

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years ago

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Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

Text

get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

“I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.

#taeyong smut #nct smut #neosmutcollective #taeyong angst #nct angst #taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct u #mafia taeyong #crime lord taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong fanfiction #taeyong fanfic #taeyong story #mafia!taeyong #action #comedy

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Flawless (1)

A Heist/Ocean’s 8 AU // Masterlist

This story has been rattling around in my head for months now, and I’m so excited to finally share it with you! I’ve been describing this as an Ocean’s 8 AU, but it’s based more on the concept of the movie than the actual plot, although a few of the basic scenes are the same. Regardless, I have big plans for these girls. Content warnings for this fic are listed on the masterlist (link above).

*****

“Good morning,” the parole officer said. “Please state your name for the record.”

“Riley Davis.”

“Thank you. Miss Davis, the purpose of this hearing is to determine whether you are likely to break the law again if released. According to the record, this is your first conviction, and you have never been suspect in another criminal investigation. During your time in prison, you kept to yourself and were well behaved.” The man looked up from her file. “As you know, parole is not a right. Parole is an immense privilege, Miss Davis, one you should not take lightly.”

“I agree,” she said.

“Good. What would you do if released?”

Riley paused, thinking through her answer. “I would settle down, find a good job, fall in love, maybe have kids. I’ve learned my lesson, sir. It was a mistake. Now all I want is to lead a simple, happy life.” She placed one hand over the other, crossing her fingers on her covered hand.

He squinted at her for a long time, like he was trying to read her mind. Riley painted her face in remorse. After several minutes, the parole officer relented and, apparently satisfied with her answers, said, “Very well.”

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. By the end of the day, she’d be free.

The officer continued, “The following are the conditions of your parole. You will report to me, in person, every two weeks until your parole period has ended. You may not cross state lines without my express permission. You must find and maintain steady employment. You may not use drugs or alcohol, nor enter any drinking establishments. You may not possess firearms or other weapons, and you may not associate with other persons with criminal records. In addition, you must obey all federal, state, and local laws, and generally be an upstanding citizen. If you do not follow these rules, Miss Davis, you will find yourself back in custody. Do I make myself clear?”

Riley nodded. So close. “Yes, sir.”

Extending his hand, the parole officer said, “Congratulations, Miss Davis. You are now a conditionally free woman.”

“Thank you.” Riley shook his hand.

The rest was all a blur. One minute she was sitting in a cold, metal chair with her wrists cuffed to a table, and before she knew it, Riley found herself changing out of her atrocious orange jumpsuit and pulling on skinny jeans and her buttery soft black leather jacket. Wearing real clothes didn’t hide the fact that she looked like shit, but in that moment Riley didn’t care. She was getting out of prison.

After two years, one month, and four days, she was finally being released from prison.

Two officers walked her to the exit. Opening the door, Riley squinted in the bright afternoon sunlight. She found herself in one last cage of chain-link fences with coils of barbed wire arching over the tops, and Riley quickened her steps through the open gate in front of her.

A familiar face waited in the parking lot, perched on the back of a motorcycle. “Welcome back,” Nikki Carpenter said. The pair shared a conspiratorial grin.

Riley hadn’t known who the officers called to pick her up, but perhaps her best friend coming to take her home was the universe’s repayment for the last two years. Nikki handed Riley a helmet before putting on her own and swinging her leg over the sleek, white bike.

Riley started to put the helmet on and hesitated. She turned, looking back at the concrete cage she’d spent the last two years of her life in. Even though her sentence was only three years, the nagging voice in the back of her mind had reminded her every day that she might not make it out. Taking a shaky breath, Riley vowed to herself that she would die before finding herself on the wrong side of those fences and walls again.

Never again. No matter what.

Nikki must’ve noticed her hesitation, because she rested a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Still facing the prison, Riley couldn’t form the words to respond.

“Hey. Thank you,” Nikki added softly.

Riley didn’t want to deal with the implications of that ‘thank you.’ Not yet. Finally tearing her eyes away, she said, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

“God, I need a drink,” Riley said as soon as they entered Nikki’s cozy two-bedroom apartment. Located in the heart of downtown LA, it was on the top floor of her building, so Nikki wasn’t subject to loud overhead neighbors stomping and dropping things in the middle of the night, but the elevator moved at a glacial pace and descending twelve flights of stairs was a bitch. Riley preferred residences that were easier to vacate—in case of emergency or unfortunate run-in with the feds—but it was nice enough.

Nikki raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t avoiding alcohol a condition of your parole?”

Riley shot her a withering glare and strode into the kitchen. She opened the white-painted cabinet above the stove, revealing Nikki’s extensive stockpile of wine and hard liquor, and dug around until she found the mason jar full of moonshine hidden in the back. Taking a big swig, Riley held Nikki’s gaze, daring her best friend to try to stop her.

Nikki simply opened the fridge, pulled out some sort of leftovers, and put them in the microwave. While she waited, Nikki studied her. This is what it feels like to be an animal at the zoo, Riley thought as she squirmed under her friend’s scrutiny, crossing her arms over her chest. Riley took another big gulp of moonshine, letting the clear liquid burn her throat and make her stomach churn.

The microwave beeped. Nikki grabbed a fork and the food and held it out to Riley. Content to doom herself to the worst hangover of her life, Riley shook her head in dismissal.

“Eat,” Nikki commanded. She tugged on the waistband of Riley’s jeans. “You and I both know those weren’t mom jeans when you bought them.”

Riley blinked. She’d eaten less while in prison, but it never seemed like a big deal. But the way Nikki was looking at her...she might as well have turned into a skeleton. Suddenly self-conscious, Riley obediently traded her drink for the food—lasagna, she realized—and settled onto the couch.

After two years of cardboard-flavored prison food, the lasagna tasted like heaven.

Riley waited until Nikki was mid-gulp before announcing, “I’ve got a plan.” Her best friend nearly choked. “Want to help me get the gang back together?”

“What’s your plan?” Nikki ground out between coughs.

Riley grinned. “I figure it’s time we go on that little trip to Paris we’ve always talked about.”

Nikki shook her head. “Damn, you’re one crazy bitch, Riley Davis. You know that?” She paused, contemplating. “I’m in.” Handing back the moonshine, Nikki added, “But tonight, I say we get drunk and celebrate your freedom. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Thirty minutes in, they’d finished the whole jar of moonshine, and Riley’s head spun. She stumbled into the kitchen in search of water, suddenly grateful Nikki had made her eat a substantial meal before drinking.

“So,” Riley slurred. “How’s it going with that boyfriend of yours? The cute blonde one.”

Nikki groaned. “You mean the big fat liar? Fabulous.”

“So it all blew up in smoke.”

“You have no idea.” Nikki shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Anyway, I’m back to being single, but Sam and Desi are still as insufferable as ever.”

“Think they’ll get married?”

“No way. That’s just one more thing they’d have to deal with if they ever have to fake their own deaths.”

“On the contrary,” Riley drawled, “they should take out disgustingly large life insurance policies and then take turns faking their deaths every time they run out of money.” The idea sounded flawless to her drunk brain. “I’ll help them with their new identities for a cut.”

“How big?”

“Twenty percent.”

Nikki snorted. “Like they’d ever agree to that.”

Riley snuggled up to Nikki as they settled in to watch a movie, ducking under Nikki’s arm and using her boobs as a pillow. As Riley’s eyes caught Nikki’s laptop charging on a nearby table, her friend’s babbling about what chick-flick to watch faded into white noise. Riley’s fingers twitched. It’d been too long since she had the comfort of a keyboard beneath the pads of her fingers—since she felt powerful, the way Riley always did when armed with a computer.

Too long, in fact, since she’d had any agency at all. Riley banished the thought before Nikki could notice where her attention had wandered.

The movie turned out to be one they’d seen a thousand times, but Riley didn’t mind. Honestly, she needed the familiarity, not that she would admit that to Nikki. Even drunk, Riley loathed to reveal any sort of weakness, no matter how small and insignificant.

Nikki pinched her side. “You’re brooding. Stop it.” Riley grumbled, but she let the movie distract her all the same.

When the credits rolled, Riley glanced up at Nikki and found her friend already staring down at her as she rubbed Riley’s head. That caged animal feeling resurfaced. It was moments like these when Riley hated how well Nikki knew her, making it that much harder to hide everything going on in her head.

In an attempt to escape, she said, “I’m thirsty. Let’s celebrate.” Riley forced a giggle as she walked back to the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses from the cabinet. Everything in Nikki’s kitchen was exactly where it was two years ago, the layout as familiar to her as her own. Did she still have her own? Riley was too drunk to remember what happened to the spacious penthouse apartment of a convicted felon.

“Riles, nooooooooo,” Nikki whined. “We are so drunk already. We cannot drink any more.”

“Relax.” Riley rummaged through the fridge, pulling out the milk and a bottle of chocolate sauce. She filled the wine glasses with milk, then added an ungodly amount of chocolate, giggling again when the bottle made a fart noise. Riley didn’t mix it very well, but she was too drunk to care. “Your chocolate milk, milady.” She held out the better mixed of the two, keeping the worse one for herself. Nikki accepted.

Riley held up her glass in a toast. “To freedom,” she said. “And doing whatever the fuck we want.”

*****

“Phone,” Riley demanded the next morning. Nikki handed hers over without even looking up from the scrambled eggs she was making. Riley unlocked it on the first try. “You haven’t changed your password in the last two years? C’mon, you know better than that!”

“My password is twenty-nine characters long! I don’t think anyone is going to…Wait you still remember it?”

Riley scrolled through Nikki’s contacts with one hand, the other busy stuffing her face with toast. “Obviously,” she said through a mouthful of cinnamon swirl bread.

“Damn,” Nikki muttered, turning back to her eggs.

Riley found the name she was looking for. Desi Nguyen. The call nearly went to voicemail before the woman on the other end snarled, “What?”

Riley couldn’t help her grin. “I’m out, and I’ve got a job.”

“Good for you. Let me know how long you last living the clean life.”

“No, you jackass. A job. You in?”

Desi didn’t even hesitate. “Hell yeah I’m in.”

“Great,” Riley said, “and since I’m assuming Cage’s mouth is too occupied to answer, tell her I say hello.”

“Fuck off,” Desi growled, but it came out just a tad breathless. She hung up before Riley could make a snarky comment about being right.

“So,” Nikki asked. She dumped the scrambled eggs on two plates. “Are they in?”

“They’re in.” Riley smirked, gratefully accepting her plate. She sat down at the kitchen table and resumed scrolling through Nikki’s contacts. Riley reached the bottom of the list, but the name she was looking for wasn’t there. Riley checked again to make sure she hadn’t overlooked it.

“Why isn’t Leanna’s number in your phone?” Nikki kept eating. “Nik,” Riley pressed. “Why don’t you have her number? What happened while I was...gone?” If Nikki noticed how she’d stumbled over the last word, her friend didn’t let on.

“Leanna got out. Got clean. She’s CIA now.” Nikki’s cold stare was clear. Do not ask me about this again.

“Oh.” Riley hadn’t seen that coming. “How the hell did she pull that off?”

“She’s good at making people disappear,” Nikki said matter-of-factly. “Guess she finally used her skills on herself.” There was more Nikki wasn’t saying, but Riley didn’t push her.

They ate their scrambled eggs in silence.

As she cleared their plates, Nikki said, “So tell me about this plan of yours. Are we really doing it?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean the heist of a lifetime, then yes. We are absolutely doing it.” Riley swung her feet onto Nikki’s now-vacated chair. “I had two long years to figure out exactly how to pull it off. All I need now is my team.”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Your team? Last I checked, the Five Eyes were our team.”

Rolling her eyes, Riley snarked, “Semantics.”

“Whatever.” Nikki was clearly upset, but Riley couldn’t bring herself to care. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Don’t drown,” Riley replied automatically.

As soon as she heard the rush of water moving through the pipes, Riley snatched Nikki’s laptop. Once again, the password was still the same. Nikki took long showers, so Riley figured she had at least thirty minutes to find the information she needed.

Hacking into the CIA’s employee database was all too easy for someone like Riley Davis. She practically had the secrets of the universe at her fingertips, but Riley didn’t waste time snooping. All she cared about was one name: Leanna Martin.

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #riley davis #desi nguyen #nikki carpenter #samantha cage #leanna martin #macgyver fanfiction

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matrixreimagined · 4 years ago

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The Dream Chronicles

Chapter Four on A03

or read it here!

Neo felt the pseudo-wind whip around him as he floated upwards almost leisurely until he was taller than any of the skyscrapers around him. The city scape spread out as far as the eye could see. In the distance, he could see mountains encased by a blue sky. A blue sky that had long ago been scorched.

He slowed down. It was like a video game. It wasn’t really him that was moving—it was his surroundings. He stilled, for a moment, taking it all in.

All that he had thought was real, just an elaborate dream.

All that he had thought was a dream, it was real. And it was waiting for him on the other side of the screen. The thought brought a smile to his lips as he looked down.

Trinity and Morpheus were only dots in the distance.

He began the descent, noting how his jacket billowed. Neo rolled in the air to face down as he soared back to the opposite rooftop before pulling upright to land on his feet next to Trinity.

Morpheus’ eyes were wide as he stared at Neo with something akin to awe.

"Already," Morpheus said, "already you can control your descent and trajectory?"

Neo looked at Trinity, unsure of what to say. Her hard gaze softened when they met his, but she still appeared tense. She flipped out a phone and hit the connect button.

"Tank, take us out," she said, and Neo felt the code around him burst bit by bit. And then his vision changed. Instead of Morpheus and Trinity, he was staring up at a metal ceiling lined with wires and tubes.

Apoc was by his side, quick to unplug him.

Neo sat up. The crew stood gathered at the console but were looking at him with a reverence that he recognized from his dreams. It had always made him uncomfortable but now it was overwhelming.

"If you all aren’t actually doing anything, go to bed." Trinity was already on her feet. Her tone brooked no room for argument and, immediately, Mouse, Switch, Apoc, Cypher and Dozer trailed off. "Morpheus, the office."

Trinity turned on her heel, crossing the main deck.

With a last, awe-filled look at Neo, Morpheus followed.

Neo glanced between the door they had gone through and the operator before asking, "I don't have to go with them, do I?"

"Nah, this is between them. She's scary when she's angry."

Neo laughed, stifling a yawn as he swung his legs over the chair. "You don't have to tell me."

Tank nodded, a smirk on his lips. "I’m Tank, by the way."

Neo blinked at him, surprised at the introduction, and then he remembered. He knew them. They didn’t know him.

And he wasn’t even sure if he did know them. It was all so confusing and, aside from Trinity, he wasn’t sure what and who he could trust.

Ghosts and shadows, he thought back to his conversation with Trinity earlier. Close to reality but not quite real.

He glanced back to the door. He needed her. To talk with her. To figure things out. Just to be by her side while he thought through shit.

He noticed that Tank was still looking at him and it occurred to him that he hadn’t actually responded to the introduction. "Right. I’m Neo."

"Good to meet you. Officially. Given the dreams, and all."

Neo nodded, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes. It still boggled the mind.

"You feeling okay?"

"Tired," Neo said. "My body feels like I was really fighting Morpheus."

"Your mind makes it real. As far as your brain is concerned, you just went three rounds with Morpheus and then pulled that superman shit in the jump program."

"Superman thing?"

"You know, making a mockery of the fact everyone fails the first jump by floating and flying over the gap like it was nothing." Tank grinned before adding, "That ain't normal, Messiah."

"Which is why Morpheus was pushing."

"Yep. You'd still be in there if Trin hadn't gone all mama bear. Looks like a good thing, too. You ain't going to pass out on me?"

Neo shook his head. "No, but can I lie down for a bit?"

"Go for it. Come find me whenever and I'll run you through some more trainings. You, uh, you remember your way around?"

Neo nodded, covering a yawn. "Yeah."

He pushed up from the chair and made his way towards the crew quarters, his mind barely registering where he was going. Step by step until he reached the door he recognized as his own. He pushed it open and kicked off his boots, eyes already starting to close. Asleep, the moment his head hit the pillow.

.......................................................

"He's the One!"

"I don't care! He is still human, Morpheus! We never, ever, start sparring the first day, regardless of what he already knew."

"He could fly."

"I was there, Morpheus. I saw it too. But you are so obsessed with the One, you're blinded to the fact that Neo is still human! He's barely woken up and you're acting like he's completed his training!"

"Did you see him in there, Trinity! What he's capable of? We don’t know his limits."

"And we won’t find them by breaking him! Jesus Christ, he isn’t a weapon. No matter the extent of his powers, he is still human!"

Morpheus regarded his first officer, seething before him. He shook his head, unable to understand.

"Not two months ago, you were completely against me trying to free him—said he was too old, that it was too much of a risk. Then a week later, you stopped arguing and started picking up shifts just to watch him— don’t deny it. I thought, maybe, you were beginning to see what I see. But you see something different when you look at him."

He wasn’t wrong but it was irrelevant.

"He’s a man, Morpheus. He still bleeds. Neo needs to be treated as such, not like some lost messiah."

"But that’s what he is."

"It’s not." It came out harsher than she intended. "He does not need to eat, sleep, and breathe being the One. He is so much more than that."

Morpheus closed his eyes, leaning against the desk. A sigh escaped him as the moment passed. Without opening his eyes, he spoke, "He woke up and said your name. When you weren’t there, he started ripping out his IVs. Dozer tried to block him at the door, and he started swinging." Morpheus shook his head. "He was so desperate to get to you. He recognizes the rest of us, but in that moment… I don’t know what he knows. I don’t even know what you know. But I will trust your judgement." Morpheus opened his eyes. "What do you propose we do?"

Trinity felt herself exhale. It wasn’t over, not by a longshot but the captain was listening. That was a start. A step in the right direction.

"Let him do his trainings, let him follow the course that any other redpill would take. Give him time to adjust—at least a week to catch his bearings and align the world from his dreams to the real world. Then we take him to the Oracle."

It was reasonable, neither could deny, even if they both disliked the proposed timeline. It still felt too short, but she could always push for more time if Neo needed it. By then, at least, they would know more.

Morpheus acquiesced with a nod. "We will start training tomorrow," he said, "but he will need to be tested eventually, Trinity. If that's what he's doing after an hour, imagine what he'll be like after a week."

And fuck, she knew that, too.

"I'm just asking for time."

"I'll allow it lest you take it anyway." Morpheus gave her a smile. "And perhaps, in time, you’ll be able to share with me whatever… whatever it is that is going on with you and Neo."

Trinity nodded gratefully and turned to leave. Her hand was on the door when Morpheus spoke again. "Trinity." She turned. "He’s lucky to have you."

The captain didn’t miss the way she flushed as she turned back to the door, not saying anything. She paused, taking a breath, before walking back out to the main deck.

Her eyes scanned the room. It seemed that everyone had followed her orders, at the very least. She had worried that they would have been too overcome with excitement, but the room was empty, save Tank sitting alone at the console.

Neo was nowhere to be seen.

She crossed to the operator, who glanced up as she walked over.

"Hey, mama bear."

"You’re hilarious," she said, although her face did not change. "Can I get a readout of his brain waves while he was in the Construct?"

"Already ahead of you. Sent a copy to both you and Morpheus. Should be on your scanner when you go back to your quarters."

Trin nodded. "You’re the best."

"That award might go to your boyfriend." Tank leaned back in the chair, as he recalled. "He didn’t even make the first jump… he fucking demolished it."

She sighed, moving to lean against the console desk. Her hand ran roughly through her hair. "He can fly."

"I thought Mouse was going to shit himself."

His words had the desired effect and Trinity cracked a grin. "How was Switch?"

"Got over excited and nearly broke one of the monitors. Christ, Trin, everyone was losing it on this side. What he knows already, what he’s been able to do. Even Cypher couldn’t begin to explain it. If all that dream shit wasn’t enough, no one who sees the readings of what just happened will be able to deny it."

"It hasn’t been more than two hours," Trinity said. "He barely has his footing in this world. Hasn’t even begun any sort of real world regimen, Tank."

"We’ll get him started. Between you and Apoc, you’ll bust him into shape in no time."

"I’m not worried about that. I know he’ll be fine. But he’s coming into this world with so many expectations on his shoulders. And we don’t even know how much he knows. Yes, he’s had dreams of this place but that doesn’t mean he’s outlined a path to destroy the Matrix."

"We’ll talk to him. We’ll find out what he knows and build from there. No one is asking him to destroy it tomorrow. He’s got time to figure it out."

She shook her head and said, "He’s not a weapon. He isn’t. And this is what I’m afraid of. When the Council gets a hold of him…"

"They won’t," Tank said, almost smirking. "You won’t let them."

Trinity stared at the operator before letting a small laugh escape. "True." She folded her arms over her chest. "But I can’t protect him from everything. Especially since…" she trailed off.

"You can say it." Tank’s expression was devoid of judgment and far too kind and understanding for her tastes. She preferred him when he was being a sarcastic little shit. "You can say that Neo is the One. With what we just saw, I’m not sure Lock himself would be able to deny it."

Trinity was saved from responding with the door to the office opening again, Morpheus exiting looking positively exhausted.

"Where’s Neo?" he asked without hesitation, finding only Trinity and Tank.

Tank answered, "Said he was feeling tired and asked to go lay down."

Morpheus nodded. "So you took him back to the infirmary?"

"He said he knew the way," Tank said.

"I’ll make sure he has blankets and is settled. Then I’m going to bed. I suggest you both do the same. The alarms will let us know if a sentinel comes close."

Trinity nodded, the lack of sleep catching up with her. "Will do."

"Good night, Captain my Captain." Tank watched as Morpheus left, waiting for the footsteps to fade. "Take it day by day," he advised. "It’s too much for any person to take in at once. I’m still reeling from what he knows. Morpheus is damn near going insane. I can’t even begin to imagine how this is for you."

She stared down at the ground, unable to deny how much Neo was affecting her. His presence, his knowledge. His confusion tugged at her heart strings and she felt torn between playing his fierce protector and picking up where they had left off earlier, before Apoc and Switch had interrupted and forced them to remember their surroundings.

It didn’t matter, she supposed.

Asleep, in the real world, Neo was shockingly safe. From Agents, from Morpheus, from his own curiosities. At least until morning.

"I’m not going to lie," she said finally. "I’m scared. For him. Of him. I’m not sure how to manage all of this. He talks to me like he knows me. And I find myself talking back, like I know him. But I don't. Today was the first day I spent with him awake for more than five minutes. And I keep reminding myself of that but, honestly, I don’t care. And then that scares me."

Tank nodded along. "You two… have something. Whether it’s based in dreams or not, you and Neo have something. And love, even just infatuation, can mess with the most put together person and tear them apart. And this is more than just that."

"I know."

"So, give yourself a break. No matter what happens with you and Neo, your life just changed dramatically. You’re allowed to take time to adjust."

"It just seems—"

"Tank!" Morpheus’ voice echoed from the hall into the main deck.

Trinity grimaced and Tank gave her a commiserating look as he shouted back, "Yeah?"

Morpheus crossed the threshold onto the deck. "He wasn't in the infirmary. Are you sure that's where he went?"

"He said he was going to lie down," said Tank, "and that's where I’d imagine he'd go. Did you check the crew quarters?"

"He wasn't in the one we assigned for him, nor any of the other empty ones."

Her heart stuttered as the obvious thought hit her. Swallowing, she asked, "Did you check my quarters?"

Morpheus and Tank both looked at her wide-eyed.

Keeping as blank a stare as she could, she reasoned, "We’ve established that he’s seen me naked. And he knows the book on my bedside table in Zion. I think it's safe to assume, if he's going off of memory, that he probably sleeps with me."

Tank was trying, desperately, to keep a straight face. She could see his lips twitching as he worked at stilling his features. It was a losing battle. Eventually, a giggle bubbled up. His hand went up to cover his mouth and Trinity resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Laugh it up," she said as Tank shifted into truly guffawing.

"Oh my god," he laughed, leaning back in the chair, "I’m sorry. But this…" The laughter continued and she caught Morpheus’ gaze.

She could see the confusion, the wonder in his eyes.

"Do you…" Morpheus’ face was reluctant, even as he made the offer, "do you want me to have him moved or…?"

She waved a hand. "It’s… fine. We’ll work it out, Neo and I. Whatever it is that’s going on, we need to be the ones to sort it out." Trinity gave him a small smile. "I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you all in the morning."

"Have fun!" Tank called, still laughing.

The walk to her quarters never seemed so long. She took a breath before opening the door, slowly as to avoid the creaking.

Sure enough, even in the dark, she could make out the lump on her bed that certainly wasn’t blankets.

Trin closed the door and toed off her boots and socks. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. She paused for a moment, looking down at the man in front of her, nestled in the blankets, stirring ever so slightly.

Neo’s eyes flickered open and he inhaled. "Hey," he murmured.

"Hi," she replied softly, not wanting to disturb him.

Neo opened his blankets upwards, making room for her to climb in. She did so, settling in between his arms in a way that felt right. She closed her eyes as her head rested on his forearm and quickly drifted off into sleep.

#the matrix #the matrix fanfiction #matrix fanfiction #neo x trinity #neo (the matrix)#trinity (the matrix)

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deathduty · 4 years ago

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Murder on Aisle 5 || Deirdre & Nicole

TIMING: Sometime during Halloween. Yes, Halloween. LOCATION: Grocery Store PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @deathduty CONTENT: Death, gore, bongos SUMMARY: You’ve gotta be kiwiing me; Deirdre and Nicole meet at a grocery store and this shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s). They make a great pear. Love each other berry much in this one in a melon meeting of fig-gin amazing circumstances. Nicole is the apple of Deirdre’s eye, and they turnip the beet. Peach out, bitches!

Grocery shopping was one of the things Nicole was capable of doing with efficiency. In and out in less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t like to spend more minutes than necessary debating which items to buy. That way, she avoided the crowd as much as possible. She wasn’t expecting to be greeted by so much noise that day. Busy evening, it appeared. She walked faster, shoulders rising to her ears, in a helpless attempt to cancel the sounds. She’d be done soon, didn’t even need a cart. She tried to ignore the sensation in her stomach warning her something was wrong. That was just her brain being paranoid, surely. But then, as she headed for the beer section, all hell broke loose. Why would people be shouting at others to run? No. Not her problem. She had reached her quota of fucked up encounters for the month, she was not about to go and figure out what was going on. Taking a few steps back she turned around with the intention of going to a different store, stumbling into a body. “Shit!” she raised her hands with the intention to check on the woman she had bumped into, before another piercing scream filled the air. “Sorry… don’t know what’s got people so—” she began to explain, before a small crowd ran toward them, seemingly escaping from… “Ah, fuck off!” It had to be a joke. The causes of the commotion had turned around the corner, standing at the end of the aisle. Dumbfounded, she froze on the spot, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Judging by the very real blood dripping from the leg of someone who had limped past them, she had just walked into a murder party.

Deirdre liked grocery shopping about as much as she enjoyed actually cooking; it was pointless and all she really wanted was pie anyways. Now that Morgan didn’t eat, the groceries were just for her, and deciding what kind of tomato sauce she wanted was not how she liked to spend her evenings. And she didn’t know what kind of tomato sauce she liked anyways; wasn’t there only one kind? Tomato? When people started to scream and shout beyond her, Deirdre ignored them and looked at the sauces. When she felt a scream claw up her chest, she snapped on her choker, swallowed the scream, and continued to eye the sauce. Should she just buy canned tomatoes and make sauce that way? It was better than the pre-bottled sauce, right? And It was just tomatoes in there anyway, what did it matter? But then what was the point of bottled tomato sauce if it was just tomatoes? These questions plagued Deirdre, and then someone bumped into her and she spun around, as if she’d just been interrupted from having an epiphany, which for all this woman knew, she might have been.

“Oi, watch it, you hu—“ She couldn’t help but notice that this woman wasn’t looking at her, which was as insulting as it was curious. Deirdre turned her head, following her gaze. “Is that a banana holding a knife?” Deirdre blinked. Beside it, was a large bundle of grapes, cheap and made of cloth, holding two knives. And beside that, an apple covered in blood. Coincidentally, the apple didn’t have a knife. Though that was probably because it had sharp teeth along its center, with painted eyes above. These fruits were not like the juicy, glossy kind that littered her cart. They were big, made of fabric, with arms and legs but no hands and feet. They clutched the knives clumsily, as if their sleeves were made of wire that wrapped around the handle. Each had a black, cloth hole, and nothing staring out of it. “Looks like someone’s having a fun costume party, or they were going to,” she smiled at the woman, trying to offer another grin at the man who limped away. The apple leaned down, lapping at his trail of blood with a felt tongue. Deirdre plucked her own apple out of her cart, and threw it at the corresponding fruit costume. The carnivorous apple crumpled under the weight, though the other two fruits began their slow march towards them. “Now is the point,” she nudged the woman, “that I think we run.”

It was the fruit flying close to her ear and hitting the apple costume that pulled Nicole out of her state of shock. Now they were real targets. “You think!?” she dropped the items she had in her hands, and hurried the woman down the aisle, ready to run for her life. She felt no obligation to stick with her, but as long as they were in the same area she assumed there was an unspoken deal between them. Such as, don’t feed the other to the flesh-eating apple, and the like. She hoped the stranger wasn’t considering her as bait, at least. Thankfully the fruits were slow, they would be able to lose them soon enough. It wasn’t so bad. Reaching the end of the aisle, she was ready to turn around the corner, when she almost crashed against another costume. As if the situation didn’t feel surreal enough, a giant, six foot operation game stood before them. Except there was no board, just the big cartoon body seemingly made out of foam, with holes where the plastic organs were meant to be. Tweezers connected by a wire to his shoulder. She saw the tweezers rise in the air, before surging forward and stabbing another running customer.

She grimaced, eyes closing when she heard the tweezers pull something out of his body, splattering sounds against the floor. “Fuck that! Back up— back up!” Nicole shouted, though she knew the other woman didn't need to be told. They were trapped between two murderous options, and they had to pick one escape route. Looking at shelves on her side, she held onto a mop stick, ready to use it as defense. Had she had more time, she would’ve wondered why the cleaning items were in the aisle in front of the tomato sauce. They had more important things to deal with than terrible store organization, however. She was ready to swing. All they had to do was dodge one of the costumes looking for blood, and they’d be out of the way. Easy. Unless they were to encounter killer vegetables on the other side. “Killer fruits...” she panted, looking from one end of the other, weighing her options, “or real life... operation game?” chest heaving, she turned to the woman for opinions.

Deirdre liked running. It was therapeutic, in a way. Running for the chance to not lose a limb was a little less therapeutic. “So you come here often or…?” But regardless, she grinned as though she was having fun. In a way, she was. Getting stabbed didn’t sound great to her, but watching someone else get stabbed was always a fun time. And, really, though she was trying to be more considerate of the humans...it wasn’t like she was the one stabbing them. Not this time, at least. “Oh, I don’t know,” she smiled, head turned to the side, “I think that one’s kind of cute.” She wasn familiar with what it was, exactly, but watching it pluck the heart out of some unsuspecting person and try to stuff it into its own cartoon-heart-hole, stirred some fondness. And then it started moving towards them. Deirdre glanced back, noticing the fruit were still wobbling their way, even the apple had stood up now. As it always was with these cases, she could just scream, but where would be the fun in that? “Well considering you have a stick, and I am, for some reason, carrying tomato sauce that I don’t even remember picking up, I think we could make a very strange pasta right now.” She looked back at the woman, waiting for her to laugh. “Okay, fine,” she huffed, snapping her attention between the two groups. Fruits and...what did the woman call it? Operation? “The fruits are fabric, and clearly they can just be pushed over. So that sounds boring. But that--” She turned to the board. “Looks like fun. So I’m going that way.” She threw her tomato sauce bottle at it, watching it bounce off harmlessly. “See! Fun!” And she could’ve used any of the knives she had hidden on her person, but that felt like cheating, in some way. And so she grabbed a plunger and a toilet brush (she liked the thematic bond between the two makeshift weapons). And with a grin, wide and impish, she charged and slid under and around the ‘Operation’--fearless and foolish in equal measure. “Well? Are you coming?”

The woman was not taking the situation seriously at all, Nicole soon realized. The thought that it could all be a prank crossed her mind. Surely, any normal person would be freaking out in her shoes. Or maybe, that was just the way she dealt with stress. Who was she to judge? “Cute” she repeated in a deadpan. “Don’t think buddy over there thinks getting their organs ripped away is very cute” she looked down at him. She should offer help, right? “That’s not even the good kind...what are you doing?” she spoke with urgency, nodding at the bottle in her hand. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t find the humor in the woman’s joke. “Don’t you think we have better chances of— you know...living with boring?” she gestured vigorously at them. They had barely moved a couple feet since she had last looked. God they were fucking slow, why was she even scared? The stabbing motions from the banana still looked threatening, though. Right, the knives. Eyes widened, she watched the woman throw her tomato sauce at the costume. Was she mad? She was mad. Did she have a death wish? Most definitely. “Are you out of your mind?”.

Nicole refrained from cheering on the woman when she ran at the operation game. She didn’t want her to think that her actions had been in any way responsible. That move had been very impressive though, she had to give her that. Was she coming? She looked behind, at the stupid wobbling fruits. It would be so easy. To swing the stick at the apple and run for her life. But then — her stomach sank at the realization— the exit would be much easier to reach if she took the game route. Just then, she remembered she was faster than most. Right. Except, she couldn’t do it in front of the stranger. She was useless. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She decided to run straight at him, squeezing herself through the space between the costume and the shelve in the last second. Not as spectacular, but she got the job done. On the other side, she almost crashed against the woman again and, without waiting, she tugged at her wrist, pulling her to run. “C’mon”. The game followed behind, its giant tweezer stabbing aimlessly in the air.

“Actually, as a life actuary, I can tell you that boring has no factor on lifespan.” Deirdre grinned. That wasn’t true, risky behaviours were understandably a factor against life expectancy. But she wasn’t so attached to upholding truth, or the respectability of her job. She’d rather this woman do something fun, and wild and….not squeeze herself around the Operation. “Fates, you’re so boring…” she grumbled, mad at the display. She continued to complain about it as they ran. “I mean, what was that? You couldn’t have done a roll? Or a cool shimmy? You’re clearly fit—“ she gestured to the woman’s body. “—I know you can do a roll, at least.” But there was one way to manufacture interesting displays. She grew quiet, plan brewing in her head. The exit was close, yes, but Deirdre had other ideas for them. A smirk flickered across her face before she slunk back and tripped. “Ahhh!” She yelled, realizing that her acting skills were pretty abysmal. “My ankle is—I think I sprained it! Curse me for running in heels!” Her ankle was completely fine, and she’d ran in worse footwear plenty of times. But the game hobbled closer and closer to her, tweezers snapping in the air like claws. Behind it, the gang of murderous fruit approached. “Help me, strange, boring woman!” She looked back at her newest ‘friend’, pleading at her with her eyes. If she wasn’t going to be fun, Deirdre would make her.

“The fuck is a—” had they not been pressed by the situation, Nicole would’ve finished her question. No, really. What was a life actuary? A made up profession, surely, if she was to go by the woman’s inability to take things seriously. It all had to be a prank. And she was obviously part of it, right? She did turn a round for a moment, in a desperate search for cameras. Otherwise, who could be so terrifyingly calm in the face of danger? Her steps almost halted when she heard the woman’s words. Boring? She wasn’t technically lying, but the statement didn’t hold any truth at the moment. Was there a more entertaining way of escaping? She scoffed. “Right, sorry I wasn’t showy enough for you. Maybe if we actually... make it out of this alive— I’ll think about body rolls and… and shimmies. No me jodas”. She tripped over a pile of cereal boxes on the floor, a second later she heard the woman yelling behind her. Nicole’s head whipped in her direction, the initial concern vanishing as soon as she saw no signs of pain in her face. Confused, she stood there, wide eyes demanding an explanation. “What the fuck are you doing? Get up!” she hissed, kneeling next to her.

Behind them, the tweezers snapped again as the Operation man held onto another organ, stuffing it in a different empty hole. Nicole swallowed. She could pick the woman up. Throw her over her shoulder. Easy. Out of spite, because she had been nothing but an inconvenience. But also, because she didn’t want her to have no organs, if she was being honest. Her eyes sized her up. How heavy could she be, really? Would that be too humiliating? Being eaten by a useless wobbling apple sounded more humiliating. Why did she care about any of that when the stranger clearly didn’t? She could leave her behind. Yes, she wanted to. The possibility was faint, but intrusive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider it. “Swear to god if you don’t—” grabbing the toilet brush that fell from her hands, she threw it at the naked foam suit before turning to the woman again. “What. Do you want. From me” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“I. Want. Something. Fun.” Deirdre’s Cheshire-like grin only grew as time ticked between them. She leaned closer, putting her face against the woman’s boundaries of personal space. Her game of pretending to be injured was too transparent, but it didn’t matter so much. She’d have her entertainment one way or another. “You’re not going to die here, love. So why don’t you have a little fun?” And if she was, well, then at least Deirdre would get a real show. “Don’t you want to surprise me?” She blinked, batting her eyelashes. She wasn’t sure how effective her pouting would be, but she tried it anyway. “And anyway, I’m too hurt to move…” Her voice dripped saccharine, and she twisted her body like the damsel she wasn’t, revealing an ankle that didn’t have a scratch on it. Beyond them, the Operation board snapped its tweezers again. At some point, one of them would have to win: Deirdre’s desire for mischief, the woman’s boringness, or the strange costume’s hunger for organs. “Maybe you can fight the costume?” She offered the idea, “or burn the store down or ooh--sacrifice someone to it!” She lit up with imagination. “Come on,” she implored the woman, “you’d help a beautiful injured woman, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind” Nicole inched closer, too frustrated to feel uncomfortable over personal boundaries. She shook her head, wanting to say no but all she managed was incoherent mumbling. She was speechless. No, she didn't want to surprise her, she wanted to go home. She blinked away the tears of frustration in her eyes. It was clear that she wouldn’t win an argument against the woman. Her eyes flicked to the ankle, anger bubbling up. She was lying. For some reason she was lying about her sprained ankle to delay their escape, why? She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do it. She had stopped thinking at all, it seemed. But something the woman had said lingered on her mind. She could fight it. Stupid? Sure, but at this point she was out of ideas. She wasn’t afraid of dying, but she would’ve hated to do it while pissed at a complete stranger. Furious eyes glanced at the woman one last time before she stood, facing the costume. She swung the stick she still held in her hand, breaking in half as it hit the operation man.

Nicole’s eyes widened. How was that possible? Foam wasn’t tougher than plastic. What kind of deficient products was the store selling? The costume stumbled slightly to the side, not enough to topple over. She stared at the broken piece in her hand, then down to the woman who had been watching it all unfold. Yeah, that was it. She discarded her stick, rushing to the woman’s side again. “You wanted fun, right?” She nodded, waiting for any twitch of her face as confirmation, before lifting the woman off the ground without any warning. And no— carrying her in her arms felt too personal, she decided. She did not want to see her annoying face any longer. Her arm hooked behind the woman’s knees, the other securing her back and with all the strength she could muster, she put her on her shoulder. A small, rational thought in the back of her mind, worried about her display not being human enough. Fuck it. She could say she exercised. “Shit—” she grunted at the effort. Her initial idea had been fun, especially to get back at the woman. But she really hadn’t thought it through. For one, she would be dealing with the woman’s resistance, and for the other, she had overestimated how wide her frame was to carry another adult. Whatever, she’d deal with the neck pain later, the exit was her goal. “This view’s more entertaining for you, no?”

Deirdre couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face at the promise of a fight. She saw the woman get ready and swing and...break her weapon. She blinked. And then burst into laughter. “Did you see that? You should have seen the look on your face!” She was distracted now, playing the scene back again in her head. The seriousness in which the woman attacked, the sound of the plastic snapping, the awkward tumbling of the costume. She loved it. She loved it so much, in fact, that she hadn’t been prepared for the woman to lift her up and, as if she were a sheet, throw her over her shoulder. “Hey!” She wiggled, surprised at the woman’s grip. Some humans were stronger than they looked, she guessed. “Hey! You can’t carry me! I have standards!” Which typically amounted to only letting her girlfriend carry her whilst in the privacy of their own house. Being carried always made her feel like a child...and she hated feeling like a child. Then again— “No, you’re right, the view is good.” She said, looking down. “I could play your ass cheeks like bongos right now, which I have half a mind to because you’re carrying me!” She wriggled again, careful not to be too good at it, lest the woman throw her aside and she ended up with a real twisted ankle. The Halloween season was important to her, and she couldn’t let it be spoiled with an injury. “You suck,” she said, giving up on her resistance. “And I don’t even want to play your ass like a drum anymore. That’s how much you suck.” She crossed her arms petulantly, waiting for the night to be over.

Navigating through the chaotic store aisles with a woman on her shoulder proved to be one of the hardest things Nicole had ever done. People were still running amok to escape from the murderous costumes. Between the screaming, the shoving, and the bumping into each other, she didn’t miss the fact that people were also actively running in the direction of danger. It seemed the woman over her shoulder wasn’t alone in her insanity. She scoffed at the mention of standards, making sure to slowly turn around the corner so the woman didn’t hit her head while she kept wriggling for freedom. Oh, so she wasn’t worthy of carrying someone like her? What standards could she possibly have? All she had was a worrying lack of common sense and shitty taste in tomato sauce, she had no room to talk about anything. She gritted her teeth, partly from the fatigue, but mostly to stop herself from blurting out something hurtful. The woman was probably incapable of feeling hurt, anyway. The costumes began to distance, as one turn of her head confirmed. They really were pathetically slow. The exit was close. She’d never have to see the woman in her life again. “Wha—” her brain stopped working for a moment when the woman spoke, her grip slipped. Apparently she wasn't too busy to blush from the embarrassment.

In hindsight, Nicole would have preferred to be stabbed by the banana costume than to hear the woman compare body parts to musical instruments. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could drop her, go back, and plead the fruits to off her. Whatever worked to unhear those words. She didn't know what to say. “What the fuck” she was all she whispered, to preserve her energy. Crossing the store’s exit came with a wave of relief that made her almost drop the woman right there. Her knees wobbled, but continued until she was far enough from the crowded exit. “Yeah—” she panted, failing to lean against the wall before unceremoniously letting go of her. “Well, you suck too, ‘least we agree on that” she snarled, feeling unusually defiant. So childish. She winced, ribs burning and legs shaky as she leaned against the wall. She shot the woman a cautious look, almost expecting her to run back for more fun. “Please don’t go inside again” she was tempted to grab her wrist to stop her, but she’d had enough of touching strangers for the rest of her life.

Deirdre frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t command me, human.” Which was her affectionate way of saying that she just might go inside, there was more death sure to happen, and she wanted to watch. Not that this lady would understand, Deirdre wouldn’t be surprised if she had a night of watching the news and then sleeping planned. She struck Deirdre as just that boring. Boring enough to, with great probability, stop her from going back inside. Deirdre grumbled. “Fine!” She threw her hands up, crossing them again as she brandished a pout at the stranger. “Fine. I won’t go back inside.” From the store, bloody humans stumbled out, screaming and shivering. Beyond them, the shrill sound of sirens cut the night air. This situation would be dealt with, boringly, by boring people. Deirdre turned to the stranger, whom she ought to thank but never would. “I guess….I’ll see you around, bongo-ass?” Deirdre waved, the scene turned from the dark of night to the flashing blue-red of police. She didn’t want to be around. She patted the woman’s shoulder—as close of a thank you as she’d ever get—and turned and ran.

The night yielded less fun than she wanted, and the costumes were gaudy if anything, but perhaps, above all, Deirdre had gotten something far more special: someone to annoy.

#wickedswriting #c: nicole #murder on aisle 5 #shouts out to mary for being the best ever #and to nicole for being the most fun. don't listen to deirdre :/

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trashogram · 4 years ago

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Devotee III.

Ryuk/Misa

This is the last one. Warnings: Emotional/Psychological Manipulation, Abusive Relationships, Dubious Consent to Interspecies Relations, Painful Sex, and Sociopath Light Yagami

Part One | Part Two

Misa was on her back trembling, completely bare, legs spread apart and propped open by Ryuk’s hands as he stared at her vulva.

She tried not to think about the creature’s teeth being so near to her most sensitive area. Ryuk had already punctured the skin of her breasts and around her collarbone in a frenzy, and the wounds stung. Her lower lip had also started bleeding somewhere in between then and now.

“You see me for the god that I am, right Misa?”

She was desperately not to think at all.

In the meantime, Ryuk was mesmerised by the sight of her cunt. Her slit was shiny, lips swollen and a delicate pink. She looked so sweet that Ryuk could just imagine biting into her sex as if it were fruit.

Instead, the shinigami shifted his grip on her legs and opened his mouth. He swiped over her slit and past her labia, his shoulders wriggling gleefully when Misa whined at the stimulation. He stroked up and down, long stripes wherever it was bright pink and glistening; learning quickly that if he smoothed over the little nub at the peak, Ryuk could make her scream.

He nibbled at her there, alternating slithering into the opening where the generous, flavorful wetness originated.

Unlike apples or chocolate, or coffee, it didn’t taste like anything strong and definable; but Ryuk found himself eagerly licking the fluid up from her opening. The more he had, the more he wanted.

It was… what did humans call it? An acquired taste?

Something like that.

There was no shortage of it, either. Along with her cute noises, Misa kept gushing and couldn’t stop.

Above him, Misa gripped the bedspread, face having gone completely red from embarrassment and exertion. She was having trouble with keeping her composure as she was being eaten… and that was even worse than enduring Ryuk’s undesirable attention.

Misa was covered in blood, drool, bite marks and scratches, but the most infuriating thing was that Ryuk was making her feel good. So, so good.

Light had justified that this wasn’t cheating, because Ryuk wasn’t a person. But Misa ached with guilt. How could he expect her to pretend that this wasn’t what it was? Or worse yet, pretend that Ryuk was Light and act like her bliss wasn’t from a monster?

“If you really, truly love me, you’ll do this for me.”

Was that the actual test? Did Light know that he’d put her into a lose-lose situation?

“Do we have to do this part?” Misa whined, eventually. “Why can’t we just… get it over with…?”

Catching movement in the corner of her eye, Misa’s head turned. Light had shifted to uncross his legs and cross them again, and he frowned at her.

“You’re supposed to pretend that it’s me with you right now, Misa.” He admonished. “Is that what you want when we’re together? To just ‘get it over with’?”

“No! No, no.” Misa shook her head, pausing with her mouth agape as Ryuk’s tongue curled inside her. “I would never want that with you, Light. I mean, I’d want to make you happy no matter how long it took!”

She babbled. “Not that taking long is bad or anything! I’d do whatever you wanted forever and ever. You know that right?”

Misa lurched abruptly, prompting Ryuk to laugh against her cunt. She could feel the vibration acutely and couldn’t stop herself from keening with revulsion, and an inkling of satisfaction.

“I hate that you’re not letting yourself enjoy this.” Light chuckled condescendingly. “You really need to relax, sweetie.”

His words sent a wave of self-loathing through Misa as she struggled not to cry like a child. A part of Misa wanted to go ahead and break down, in the vain hope that she could tantrum her way out of this. Deep down, Misa felt her behavior was justified in that this was not just an outlandish demand on Light’s part, but a disturbing one.

---

When Ryuk had had his fill of lapping at her, Misa was tempted to hope for one minute, but when the death god rose from the bed, he didn’t go very far. His claws fastened around the belt buckle at his waist and he pulled at it.

Her stomach flip-flopped as she heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Misa was too afraid to look as Ryuk undressed, eyes fixed on the ceiling where shadows glided in the dim room.

Misa hadn’t known if he was able to take off all of his clothes. She’d thought about it in a roundabout way, having always appreciated Ryuk’s wardrobe. It was definitely up her alley as far as style, and in the past, Misa had examined his jewels: rings, bracelet, earring, chains, etc.

They were cool-looking, though not as extraordinary as his clothing. The ‘shirt’ that covered Ryuk was ornately designed, especially the zippered sleeves. There were little etches of skulls and bones, circles and star-shapes, and symbols that Misa had never seen before in her life.

The clothing was skin-tight, with little creasing, making Misa wonder if the sleeves were actually part of his clothing at all. Asking about them didn’t get her very far, since Ryuk hardly seemed to know what they meant himself.

Regardless, Misa’s theories didn’t quite extend down to below the belt so much. Ryuk’s legs were similarly patterned, fabric bunched and folded. Unlike his upper body though, which bore obvious stitches that revealed the thick stitches between his shirt and neck, there was no indication of the same for his lower half.

Ryuk returned to the bed, still clad in his black top and maneuvering to situate himself between Misa’s legs again. With morbid curiosity, Misa’s head lifted just enough for her to look down and see the member he held in one hand.

---

His cock was large, and at the sight Misa felt like she might faint. The size shouldn’t have been surprising, but Misa hadn’t really thought about it.

It was bluish-gray as his skin - the skin of his chest and legs and face, at least. Protruding thick from his groin and gradually narrowed up the dark blue, pointed head, it was gnarled and scored with indents and raised skin, ridges, sloping down the underside. Much like Ryuk himself, it was vaguely human-looking, but monstrous.

Misa rose a little bit more, hand held out as she stretched to brush the tip with her fingers. The tip looked pointy, but she was slightly relieved to discover that it wasn’t anywhere knife-like or cutting. She prodded, realizing that it was no different than the rest of his sallow skin, save for its accentuated stiffness.

Her touch - done merely to ensure that she wasn’t going to be literally stabbed in the womb - coaxed a deep-seated purr from Ryuk. His eyes were glued to the vision of Misa’s small hand smoothing over his cock, pawing at him.

The woman startled at his rumbling, and when Ryuk took her hand in his, prying her off gently so that he could shift in closer and angle himself at her entrance.

Black was oozing from the tip of his cock, already throbbing with her unintended stimulation.

“This won’t kill ya.” Ryuk said, trying not to grin at her mortified expression. I mean, probably not.

The shinigami patted her knee in a comforting way while she shuddered, voice breaking. “Okay…”

Ryuk held his cock at her entrance, the head dipping into the rose-colored opening the slightest bit. Heat was pouring off Misa’s little body, mainly from her core as he compared the size of her to himself.

For the first time, Ryuk found the predicament questionable as he had no idea how anything could fit inside such a small space.

It wasn’t an illogical worry, as when he started pushing into her, it didn’t take long for Misa to start screaming her head off.

“It hurts! Misa bawled. “It hurts too much!”

Ryuk hastily withdrew himself from her entirely. The very real pain in her voice was startling, stabbing him with discomfort. It compelled him to slide away from her some more out of guilt.

Misa was certain with every fiber of her being that she couldn’t endure having it inside her body. That thing wasn’t meant to be inside of her.

“I can’t.” She whispered, body now taut like a wire stretched to its limit.

“I’m sorry, Light. I can’t do it.” Misa’s head bowed, a lump forming in her throat. Above her, Ryuk ceased advancing on her and moved back a little.

Light, on the other hand, sat still for a moment, then rose from his seat and stood beside them, looking down at the woman impassively.

“Misa,” He started. “What’s wrong?”

Misa couldn’t bring herself to look up at her god, too afraid she might go too far and scream in his face as she ached to do now. How could he?

How could the love of her life, the smartest person she knew - her savior - not know what was wrong? How could he ask her something like that while she was being taken advantage of right in front of him?

The model refrained from saying anything when she mustered up the courage to look at Light.

“It’s too big.” She sniffed, lamely.

His eyes turned shrewd. “You’re giving up?”

Misa blinked through her tears. Why did he have to say it with such disappointment?

“I-I just don’t think -” She hiccupped.

“Yeah, you don’t think.” Light said through gritted teeth. “I’m always thinking for you. If I wasn’t, you’d be dead by now anyway.”

Mouth dropping open, Misa stared at Light in disbelief. His words cut straight through her, putting any surface-level agony to shame with the heartbreaking blow.

“Wha - Why? How could you say…” Her voice cracked.

Close to sobbing, Misa felt the pressure at her hip. Perhaps it was a lie her brain was concocting for self-preservation, but Misa felt the pads of Ryuk’s fingers lightly tracing over her. The death god said nothing, very used to seeing Light take his anger out on Misa by now, but it was like he was trying to soothe her, or help her calm down.

The inexplicable image of an apple rolling toward her came to mind.

“Look, Misa.” Light pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll stay right here, how about that? Here, give me your hand.”

She offered her hand without a second thought, still weeping. Unlike Ryuk, Light’s skin was soft and golden, visible veins carrying blood from his wrist up to his fingers and the warmth familiar. Misa wanted only to feel his hand in hers, even when Light’s gaze turned reddish and his immeasurable disappointment caused him to nearly crush her fingers.

“We’re not stopping again.” He stated. “Do you understand?”

----

Oh god.

She could see him.

Ryuk was little more than halfway inside of her, and Misa could see his cock buried, bulging from underneath her belly button. He had to be stretching her far past her limit.

He let out a breathless laugh, almost like he was still in disbelief that this was happening too. In disbelief that they’d gotten this far. The distress that Light had brought about was both a hindrance and a help in that, while he didn’t enjoy seeing Misa suffering so much, it had emboldened Misa to try again.

Ryuk stayed in place, savoring the heat surrounding him before he gradually pulled out. Although he didn’t have personal experience, the shinigami didn’t instantly speed up. He remained half-sheathed in Misa, then sunk back in, and out.

Emboldened, or as most people would call it, forced.

With every plunge, Ryuk drew back farther and then pushed in further. He was speechless. Even more confounding, he felt like he couldn’t breathe - he didn’t need it, but his shriveled lungs were demanding air. That purring from earlier continued rolling from his diaphragm, and he let his claws glide over her until he was palming her chest. The shinigami could feel Misa’s heart beating wildly, pounding on her ribcage. All for him.

Ryuk’s partner lay under him, prior ambition to hold in her moans now abandoned. Misa grew louder with every thrust into her cunt, unable to determine if she was groaning out of pain or rapture. It must’ve been both, for she was now soaking through the bedsheets and still able to perceive the ridges of his cock brushing against her walls.

“Oh! God! Please!” The pointed end of him was stabbing her cervix, but without the jolt of it, Misa felt empty. No longer afraid of being cut into; no, she needed that feeling again and again and again.

When she groped for the hand over her heart for stability, Ryuk wheezed a laugh at her urgency.

“Kukuku,” He stumbled over the sounds. “Y-yes?”

Misa moaned while the coil in her belly tightened, eyes shut and every sense concentrated on the feeling of being repeatedly filled. There was a tingle at the base of her spine, pleasantly torturous, like being tickled without mercy. It made her cunt contract around the oversized member inside, gripping Ryuk as if to keep him buried inside as far as possible.

She screamed, convulsing so violently that her hips jolted forward into Ryuk’s and ascended upward with the shock. It was sudden, and in this new position Ryuk was all the way inside of Misa, unable to do more than rut against her with bewilderment and desperation.

Misa carried on jerking uncontrollably, the pleasure coursing through her veins. It lingered, going on and on, fizzling out her surroundings and turning her vision white until her body went limp.

She gulped in air, barely feeling the sweat rolling down from her hairline and herself being pushed and pulled at Ryuk’s persistence.

“I’m ah,” Ryuk panted, hands tightened around the girl’s thighs as he leaned back, eyes rolling while he let the sensations wash over him. “Gonna have to - stop, before I… ahh.”

“It’s fine, Ryuk.” Light said. “Keep going.”

Misa lay, numb save for the little aftershocks here and there, until her senses were restored, and she cried out at a deep thrust. Consequently, her expression went slack when she was able to understand what was being said.

“Wait, wait!” Her head snapped toward Light once more. “Light, d-does it have to be inside?”

Her bloody lower lip trembled as Light simply glared at her. He made no move to respond to her, despite how disheveled she was.

“Light…?”

Misa’s heart sank. His stare was burning a hole into her bobbing form. If she could’ve allowed herself, Misa might’ve believed that Light held all the contempt in the world for her right then.

Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes again. Her pleading made no difference. It didn’t matter that she’d shown Light how loyal she was by letting a literal monster have his way with her. It wasn’t enough, she was expected to go above and beyond.

Allowing a stray tear to slip down her cheek, Misa inhaled shakily. “Yes, don’t hold back, Ryuk. It’s ok.”

The death god looked down at her, and his pace slowed considerably. He had pulled out two-thirds of the way, having only a vague idea of what was being said as he lost himself.

“Keep going.” She implored him, squeezing him with her thighs. “I want you to cum. I want you to cum inside me. Please.”

Ryuk stuttered, unable to come up with any response to her pleading.

“I want it so much.” She swallowed. “I need it. I need you to cum inside me!”

Her demand had Ryuk’s hips snapping forward of their own accord, responding to a sudden surge of adrenaline that went right to his groin.

Misa gasped when the death god grabbed her by the thighs again, unhooking them from around his waist. Immediately, he pushed forward, bending her legs back until they were practically behind her head.

He growled, contorting his lanky body into a v-shape so that he could continue pummeling her into the mattress while anchoring one claw on the headboard.

Misa could feel that tightening in her belly, out of nowhere, at the deep, thundering sound. She had never heard him make a sound like that before, and it being so close pushed her over the edge for the second time.

Her inner muscles were unable to clench as tightly as the first time, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t believe it, but Ryuk’s cock started to swell. Misa was afraid that she was going to literally be torn apart this time, until a sudden burst of heat flooded her belly, coating her insides.

She felt like every nerve in her body had been set on fire.

---

Light was calling her name.

In a daze, Misa slowly turned her head toward Light. She had trouble focusing on him, even as he closed the distance between them and appeared overhead, placing a hand on her cheek. He was looking at her with a wry sort of softness. Smile like a double-edged sword, just for her.

The feeling of his hand against her didn’t compare to the oozing between her legs, or the small spasms of her cunt at the loss of Ryuk.

----

Ryuk wasn’t the type to die for another human.

He’d sat on the edge of Misa’s bed like a watchful gargoyle, not moving even when Light returned to the room and left a bath towel on the chair before closing the door behind him.

She’d passed out minutes after he’d pulled out of her, watching his own ink-like cum leak out and flow down her thighs. Ryuk had feared for a moment that he actually did kill Misa, until Light informed him otherwise.

He’d placed his hand back over her heart, after covering her with blankets. Her pulse had slowed considerably, but only as she relaxed into REM sleep.

Ryuk’s mouth twisted, eyes somewhat melancholic.

He unlatched the notebook from his belt and opened it to a blank page and started scribbling. Ryuk scorned his own handwriting for once, but as soon as he finished, the god ripped out the corner and folded it.

He stared at the note for a long moment, then found Misa’s hand beneath the comforter and let it crumple in her palm.

#ryuk #misa amane #light yagami #death note #ryuk/misa #thats the end folks #thank god #this whole thing is 7k

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maxieh369249969 · 4 years ago

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7 Mistakes To Avoid When Using Microsoft Power Point

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luckywildrover · 5 years ago

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Monologue: Muse Update

What do you get when you juggle three lives, have to keep two secret, and become so focused on everyone else that you put yourself last?

You get sick.

James had his multiple lives worked out perfectly. Mastering the art of flexi-time (and some talking with his boss), he adjusted his hours in the office to focus on ‘family issues’. This allowed him to record videos on mornings off, and attend to his heroic duties in the evenings. On top of that, he was attempting to keep a social life, including helping Arthur indulge in the wonders of modern life through Anti-proof loopholes; and trying to beat Chase in the ultimate M.inecraft build-off (he’s losing).

But on this day... His alarm went off, as usual. James hit the ‘snooze button. The alarm went off again. This repeated two more times, until James unknowingly hit the ‘off’ button and fell back asleep.

Had it been any other day, it would have been fine. He was sick, the extra rest would help.

But he was behind on videos. One needed to go out today.

By the time he skidded into the kitchen, rapidly attempting to fix the mess that was his hair, it was mid-afternoon.

“Christ, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Chase asked as he put down his mug of coffee.

“The video, Chase! I overslept. Jesus, do I have time to get it done late?” At last, James’ hair was brushed back enough to tie it back, but the panic didn’t seem to register with the other Ego.

“Aside from the fear in your eyes, I’d say you’re looking well-reste-”

“Chase, did you hear a single word I just said?! A video was due up an hour ago and I overslept! If the fans start asking questions, we’re gonna have huge problems!” Once again, wires were crossed as Chase pulled out his phone.

“But James... You have a video out. Did you forget you recorded one?”

“W-what? No I didn’t.” The baffled hero slumped into the chair beside Chase. Yes, he was fighting a cold along with all the evils of the city, but he wasn’t the time to do things in delirium. The video was clicked, and both began to watch.

Within ten seconds, both knew something wasn’t right. They continued watching, searching for the clues they hoped weren’t there. But then, James reached forward and began rapidly tapping the screen, skipping through the video, until -

“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”

‘Jack’ lifted his head to look directly at the camera.

“Don’t leave me.”

James knew that voice. It was one he hadn’t heard in years, not since -

“Do you ever feel like there’s something... More?”

Maintaining eye contact...

‘Jack’ gives a smile.

It was only for an instant, but all it needed was a laugh.

“Oh my God... Chase, where’s Arthur?!”

The mute would usually be easy to find. For someone whose brain couldn’t figure out how to use his own vocal chords, Arthur was a noisy man. Loud footsteps, door slams, blaring music, it was almost as though losing control of his voice made him want to speak out in other ways. But there was silence. No one else was in the building.

That is, until the recording room was kicked open.

There, surrounded by all the technology in the room, was Arthur. He was lying on the floor, out cold. Rope was tied around each wrist and connected the former actor to the two computer screens. But on his chest was a tablet, the one Arthur himself would use that never connects to the internet.

James gingerly approached and lifted it. There was no passcode, but the moment the screen was unlocked, a message was written in sloppy writing on the notepad app:

I KNOW.

Arthur - or JJ, Anti’s puppet - would have no recollection of what happened. He would be more nervous of technology, despite all the work James had taken to ensure Arthur would never touch a piece of smart technology.

But worse... The fans had noticed the clues, and the tags were trending on social media. They spotted the glitches, the strange mannerisms, the cryptic questions that were followed by the act of nothing happening. That meant James would either have to play ignorant, or pretend this was a ploy to engage viewers. They couldn’t know what actually happened. Deleting it would cause an uproar and add fuel to the fire. How close had they been from finding out the truth?

Regardless, he needed to up his game and work on measures to trap Anti. If he would have to pull back from his life as ‘James’, then he would.

There was much more at stake.

#my very own fanfic (drabble)#in this chapter (muse update)

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zellybelly · 6 years ago

Text

Bloody Hell (Part 2)

Part 2!!

Does anyone know how to do links? I want to make it easier for the people reading my two series

The gates were right there. Just a few yards away.

Her knees felt weak and trembled with each step. Step wasn’t ever the right word. She could barely get her feet up, dragging them across the ground. Eventually, after only a few more drags closer, her knees gave out.

She was too slow to catch herself, falling onto the dirt. She did manage to turn her head to her cheek hit the ground and not her nose. She groaned. Tiny hands helped her onto her knees, holding her shoulder. Her hands were underneath her, but her arms were shaking, they wouldn’t hold out much longer. “Clementine!” AJ’s frantic voice called to her. She was shaken by her shoulders and felt hi lightly hit her face, “Keep your eyes open.”

With his help, she laid down on her side, opposite from the bullet wounds. She watched him go up to the fence and call out for help.

She groaned, feeling her brain pounding in her head. Everything seemed so hot, and so cold at the same time. She wanted to lean into the ground, seeking its coolness, but it also burned her skin.

Eventually, she just gave into the darkness looming in her vision. Any strength she had left was gone. Her head fell to the ground.

Louis was looking down at his deck of cards. Just three days ago... everything was fine. And now... they lost four- two people in one day. And they sent the other two away. Probably to their deaths.

Guilt flared up in his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut.

As soon as the sun had set, he had found himself looking for that familiar blue and white hat, ready to offer up another game of cards. But the realization hit him so hard, it was like someone had actually slapped him.

Then the anger sunk in. He remembered it all. They way the light drained from his best friend’s eyes, when just a second ago, they had been filled with hope. Clem told him that he could start over, and she would be by his side to help him. And then. He was dead...

“Violet! Louis! They came back!” He looked up from his place on the couch. She set down the cards and walked over to the gates.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw AJ at the gates... but his frown disappeared when he saw... Clementine wasn’t beside him. He strolled up to the gates and looked at the kid.

“Where’s Clem?” The words in his throat died when he looked past AJ. She was lying on the ground, still, and her shirt and jacket were colored with a dark scarlet.

“Please! You have to help her! She might die!” AJ pleaded to him. It was necessary, almost as soon as he saw her the gate was open and he ran to her side.

He first checked for a pulse and found one quickly. It was slow and weak though. Her eyes were closed, but he could see a sliver of her amber eyes. They were dull, but not in the way that meant she was dead.

The blood... There was so much. It was all on her left side, everywhere. His throat stung with bile from the amount of blood. Even though it’s been almost 10 years since the world went to hell, the sight of blood made him sick. Or maybe it was the sight of human blood. Blood from the living or dying.

He slipped his arms under her back and knees and lifted her into his arms. Her head hung limply against his upper arm. He walked past AJ and through the gates. When AJ closed the gates behind them, they headed straight for the admin building.

No one put up any arguments about helping Clem. Maybe except Willy, but the kid said nothing. They brought her upstairs and laid her down on a couch. When he looked at her again, he almost smiled. She looked like she was asleep, peaceful, deep within a dream.

He turned around while Ruby patched her up. It was a surprise to find out that the bullets were already removed, and duct tape was wrapped around the wounds.

AJ quickly told them. A man had helped them, his name was James.

They all jumped when they heard the cracked yelp. They turned to see that Clem was awake, and she had launched up, curling around her wounds. They saw the alcohol and cloth in Ruby’s hands. She must’ve been trying to clean the wound.

“Louis? Can you come and hold down her arms, AJ, get her legs.” The redhead ordered them.

Since AJ was little, he crawled onto her legs, hoping his weight was enough. With some hesitance, Louis placed his hands on Clem’s shoulders. Seeing her eyes on him made his face heat up.

Her amber eyes bore into his soul.

Even though they knew each other for less than a week, he felt like they could’ve known each other for years. They just clicked together. Always had a comeback to his snarky flirtations.

Her eyes squeezed closed when Ruby pressed the cloth back to the wounds. He could feel her shaking underneath him.

It was over quickly, and Ruby had the boys turn around to bandage the wound. Ruby told Louis to keep an eye on her, while she took AJ to get cleaned up and to get some food in his stomach.

He watched over her for maybe thirty or so minutes. She slept most of the time. That was good, whatever she went through must’ve been exhausted.

When she opened her eyes, she tried to stand. Her eyes closed and her chest heaved with deep breaths as she sat up. He helped her to stand, though he did earn a good glare for it.

They met up with Vi in the office and they were caught up on everything. Clem insisted she could stand by herself, so he let go, but he did stay close in case. She told them everything: who Lily was, why they weren’t together, James, and the raider’s plan to attack.

The thought of people coming into their home to steal them made him sick. He crossed his arms and looked to the ground.

With the map of the school, Clem went over a plan with them. All she really needed was some barbed wire from the greenhouse.

She was right in the middle of explaining when the door was slammed open. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” It was Mitch. Though she could’ve already guessed from the yelling. He pointed an accusing finger at her and she responded with a glare. “Willy told me she was back, but I was like, no way, Violet wouldn’t just go against what we all decided.”

Violet cut him off, “Not all of us voted for them to leave! Remember!”

Ruby opened the door just then, and her shoulders relaxed when she saw Clem. “There you are. Sent AJ to Tenn, go draw with him. Now, what are you doing up? You’ll make it worse.” She tsked her.

Clem shrugged it off, “I’ve been through worse. Got a bullet right in the shoulder,” She tapped the joint area, “then got into a car crash during a blizzard. Wasn’t pretty.” Everyone just gaped at her. Right, she forgot she had worse experiences than most.

“Still, you need to rest and let the painkillers-”

“So we’re giving them our medicine now too?”

That was when Louis stepped in. “Dude, back off. You rather we let her die out there?” He pushed Mitch’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure if he was aware he had stepped in front of her like he was guarding her or something.

So did Violet, “Mitch, those raiders are coming to attack the school. We need her help.” She stressed.

But like everyone, Mitch was stubborn, “Like hell we do. For all we know, she’s one of them.”

“Then why would they shoot her like they did!?” Louis snapped. The room was silent for a moment. She didn’t expect that. “Why would they try to kill her if she were one of them?” “I dunno, maybe she put a bullet in someone’s head.”

That was it for her. She pushed past Violet and Louis, ignoring the tingling from her wound. Within a second there was a loud slap that echoed through the halls. Mitch’s face was to the side, and his cheek was already turning red. Clem stared at him through amber daggers.

“Fuck you, Mitch. You have no clue what I have been throughout there, so stop acting like I shoot everyone I see.” Ruby came up by her and led her to a seat so she could sit down and relax her muscles.

“Besides, if you had seen the way their leader had her boot on Clem’s neck, you’d know she wasn’t one of them.” “Regardless,” God, when was this kid going to give up? “all I know is that since she came here it’s been trouble.”

“Clem’s going to the greenhouse to find barbed wire and anything else she thinks we need for the fight, and you’re going to help her.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. It’s dangerous for her to go alone, especially with her wound, and you’re good in a fight.” Violet had backed Mitch up to the door. Clem could see the gears turning in his head, and it seemed like he was slowly giving up. But not without a fight.

“I can go too. You know, to keep the peace.” Ruby offered.

“Me too. Need all the hands we can get.” Louis joined in, his hands on his hips. She looked up at him surprised. Considering how cold and mad he had been towards her, she assumed that he hated her. But this... he wasn’t being forced like Mitch.

Speaking of, “Fuck, Vi. Since when are you the one making the calls?” Mitch shoved her shoulder.

Violet turned her back, took a few steps and looked back at him, “Since no one else stood the fuck up.” Mitch took in a breath. Seems like he finally caved in. “You two,” She looked to Louis and Clem, “head over to the greenhouse, these two will meet you there once I’ve explained everything.”

Louis helped her to stand, placing an arm around her waist and allowing her to lean on him to walk.

Clem exchanged a nasty look with Mitch before she left the room with Louis. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. This would be awkward.

Thus concludes part 2, not sure how many parts each episode will have, but I’m shooting for 4-5

I hope you enjoyed. (If you know anything about links for the previous and future chapters please let me know I would appreciate it.)

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years ago

Note

Headcanon meme: Logan? (Or Laura, your choice.)

Some of both, I think, because I love them both so much. Speaking of which, I’m rereading the X-Men comics I own starting with the very first issue in the 60′s, with the overdramatic dialogue and the ridiculous costumes, and...I love them...so much. For this headcanon meme!

HeadcanonLaura! Is! Trans! Good talk!

For Logan, I still really truly believe that he and Steve Rogers ran in similar circles for a minute or twenty in WWII, because quite frankly if one super soldier is good, one super soldier and one dude with an upsetting talent for taking a bullet and walking it off is better. Steve remembers Logan much better than Logan remembers Steve, because Logan’s working with a fair amount of memory loss just purely because, yeah, he can take a bullet to the brain and get back up, but memory storage is a delicate business and repairing the neural paths doesn’t necessarily repair the memories. The two of them get drinks sometimes regardless.

HeartcanonLaura and Logan are both Highly Paranoid (with good reasons) and therefore people tend to expect them to radiate enough unease to make animals nervous. They are Deeply Wrong. Laura, at first, tends to be more afraid of animals than they are of her, relic of a long history of any and all new creatures being basically a gladiatorial fight to the death, but she comes around pretty quickly when Logan shows her how to entice a stray cat toward her. As soon as Laura calms down the pair of them are always the most popular kids at the dance when it comes to domestic animals (with the exception of horses, which are anxious enough to need some soothing first) and one time Laura wandered out of the woods behind the manor with a real-ass fox in her arms.

“You’re a Disney princess,” Kitty gasps, thrilled.

“I am not,” Laura snaps, blushing, and puts the fox down. It does not leave. As far as it’s concerned it’s found the universe’s friendliest apex predator and it’s pretty sure that following her around is going to get it enough food to turn it into a fox-colored sphere.

Gutcanon...the HYDRA cell that cloned Laura included a neurobiologist who used to work for the Red Room, and as such Laura has command coding modeled off the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow program deeply laced into her brain. They learn this in the worst possible way (of course) and the ensuing fight to keep her contained nearly kills even Logan. When she comes back to herself, she’s covered in his blood and Logan is still standing between her and the rest of the X-Men, because he knows from bitter experience that coming out of a haze and finding you’ve killed someone you love is the worst experience in the world.

See, the Weapon X program, when it experimented on Logan, was well equipped mechanically but underprepared for the delicate process of brainwashing. Their first attempt crossed wires badly with Logan’s mutation, and accidental (or intentional) activation of the programming would send him into berserker rages, and...yeah. He’s not letting that happen to Laura. A lot of bad shit’s happened to her because of him, including this, but he’s pretty sure she’ll come out of it before she actually kills him for good, so he takes the punishment and does. Not. Move.

JunkcanonHey listen, I know Kitty/Illyana is, like, The Thing, but: Illyana/Laura? Anyone? Anyone? Just me? They would be a narratively perfect match, and also I would LOVE the parallel of Sweet Smiling Sunshine Illyana Who Is Also Belasco’s Heir and Grumpy Scowly Swear-y Laura Who Is Lowkey On A Righteous Crusade. Tall Illyana in her high femme armor with a bigass sword and short Laura with her hair up in a ponytail and the blood of her enemies on her highly practical uniform. Laura’s mutation and training mean she’s strong enough to carry her girlfriend bridal style even though Illyana is extremely Colossus’ sister and like a good solid seven inches taller than Laura’s 5′4″. Illyana is enthralled with this fact. One time Laura saw Illyana throw her sword like a javelin in a training session and instantly got clobbered by a mock Sentinel while she was staring. It was totally worth it because Illyana spent the next hour fretting over Laura, healing factor notwithstanding.

Illyana had more of a childhood than Laura did (although not THAT much more) and teaches her dumb stuff like clapping games and jumprope, and one of the languages Laura learned in the lab was Russian and she falls in love with the language like she’s never done before when she hears Illyana telling bad jokes in it.

It takes Illyana a little while to get over her hopeless crush on Kitty, and it takes Laura even longer to figure out what the fuck pining even is, let alone that she’s been doing it, and then they’re sweet and clumsy and earnest together while Logan and Colossus kind of eye each other dubiously over their heads.

Come the fuck on, guys, this is a great concept. This is, like, the Sweetest Ship.

God, catch me getting feelings about an AU where Laura is an angel and Illyana is a demon even though I’ve never read a single Magyk comic.

SpleencanonCanon can frankly suck an entire dick, especially on the subject of their perennial Death Of Wolverine nonsense. Like, listen up? Bitch? You can have an immortal character. It’s okay. You can do that. I understand that you feel like you need to keep doing the death thing because it’s “emotionally poignant” or whatever, but fucking COUNTER-PROPOSAL: you have a bunch of potentially immortal characters, which, understandably, you milk for a lot of angst. That’s okay, I like mortals-and-immortals angst, but you need to stop fucking killing Wolverine because it’s nonsensical and annoying and never sticks, so what you’re going to do instead is have Wolverine start a whole fucking daisy-chain of immortal found family narratives. Just have Logan adopt all of them. Literally every single immortal character who isn’t actively out to do a genocide is Logan’s child now.

Laura? Yep.

Illyana? That’s his baby girl.

Thor? Thor needs a strong father figure in his life and Odin ain’t always top notch.

Silver Surfer? Norrin is a sad and shiny boy who could probably stand to have a parent around so he stops making so many bad fucking decisions.

Elixir? You KNOW Logan’s already on his game there.

Steve Rogers? Depending on your canon homeboy could live a long fucking time with that serum, and as we’ve discussed Logan was already Full Dad Mode in WWII, it’s just the status quo.

And like, Logan doesn’t need to keep all his new kids at home with him, most of them are grown folk, they’re adults, they can take care of themselves, but what I’m going to need is an ever-growing network of semi-to-fully-immortal characters who know that they can call up Wolverine when their girlfriend or their children or whoever lives out a long mortal life and dies of old age.

You think I’m kidding but I’m EXTREMELY serious.

#xmen #logan #wolverine #x23 #laura kinney #smolverine #headcanon meme #ask meme #well that got long #mostly because of those last two #but SERIOUSLY i'm VERY SERIOUS about those last two #WHERE is the laura/illyana content i crave #i came up with this ship years ago because honestly illyana/kitty weirds me out a bit #just because...like...kitty helped raise illyana when she was little? pre belasco?#that's a weird dynamic for me and i opted out #but bisexual illyana is 10/10 and like #lesbian trans laura: you're welcome #actually laura's original creator wanted to make her a lesbian on xmen evolution #but TRAGICALLY it was canceled before that dream was realized #also #wolverine's home for immortal fools #i'm...so right i honestly can't even believe it #@marvel hire me #i've been rereading the early xmen comics (with like the OG team) and i forgot how genuinely i love them #this is not to say they are necessarily Good (very little in the comics of the 60's is Good) but i love them sincerely #also i fucking forgot that the entire team calls scott poker face when they want to get under his skin and that's. so good.#scott summers was my favorite as a smol bab and i still love him very much #i'm just going to post this rather than queuing it #i'll queue the rest #necer0s

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