#thanks for sending it becca

[stark-tony]

17, 29, 38 for the questions!!!!

17. name 3 things that make you happy

watching cute animal videos, doing paint by numbers or building legos, and reading fics

29. what do you do when you're sad?

i usually turn my music up really loud and walk around my house to try to distract myself from my thoughts. i also try to read some but that just isn't as effective.

38. fave song at the moment?

i'm just gonna list a few songs that i've been playing on repeat for a while

the sticks -mother mother

obsessed - olivia rodrigo

empire now- hozier

die for - maggie lindemann

QUESTIONS I THINK WOULD BE FUN TO BE ASKED

[caramelloss]

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia." 

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing. 

but you feel, oh, you feel. 

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever. 

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back. 

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?" 

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror. 

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert. 

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you. 

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy. 

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you. 

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face. 

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind. 

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air. 

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself. 

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”  

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm. 

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again. 

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace. 

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore. 

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck. 

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her. 

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable. 

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes. 

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman. 

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more. 

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her. 

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds. 

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line. 

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint. 

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.  

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her. 

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her. 

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash. 

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away. 

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling. 

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.” 

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you. 

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?” 

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum. 

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath. 

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again. 

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!” 

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm. 

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm. 

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris. 

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back. 

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.” 

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains. 

[ghostlywhiskey]

“oh, come on,” your mother pleads on the other end of the phone. the majority of the phone call thus far revolving around the fact you broke the news about seeing someone new. and in motherly fashion, she immediately started asking away about his name, age, occupation, and everything in between. but of course, the main question and request she had was: can you send me pictures?

“mom,” you sigh as you move around your apartment with her on speaker as you tidy up. “you’ll meet him when i bring him for dinner this weekend.”

it wasn’t that you had a lack of photos or anything, but you knew your mother better than anyone else. the second you send those photos, it would be sent to family members, the neighbors that knew you since birth, and her close friends.

“please?” she begged again, which immediately caused you to accept defeat. you'd never hear the end of it.

quickly selecting two photos from your camera roll, you sent them over to her and quietly mumbled that she should have gotten them.

“oh, sweetheart,” it was practically a squeal from her end, the sound of her typing catching your attention as well. those photos were about to be shared with nearly everyone she knew. “he’s so handsome. how old did you say he was again?”

sighing quietly and away from your phone to avoid her hearing, you politely figure a way to end the call. “i love you, but i have to go. promise you can ask all the questions you want when we come for dinner.” when the words leave your mouth, you realize you’ll regret them when dinner actually happens.

and its later that night when your phone rings, your body sat on price’s lap. his hands reach to hold your head in place to prevent you from pulling away, mumbling to let it just go to voicemail. tugging your head away, you pull from the kiss and see 'aunt rebecca' lighting up your phone screen; your finger quickly presses the accept call button as you sit upright on price's lap.

"hi aunt becca," you speak into the phone, eyes glancing up at the ceiling briefly before looking back down at price. his hands resting on your thighs to give them a gentle squeeze before moving them up and down soothingly while you take the call.

"your mother told me about your new boyfriend!" her exclaim blaring through the phone speaker, and you can't help but press a hand to your forehead and drag it down.

"did she? i'm assuming she sent you photos too."

"darling, you better hold onto that one," she cooed, her excitement for your new relationship evident and praise loud enough for price to hear. a grin forming on his face indicating he can hear aunt becca's end of the call.

"photos?" price mouths up at you, hands giving your thighs another squeeze, but this time slightly higher up which causes you to squirm on his lap. your free hand reaches to gently swat at one of his hands, embarrassment running through your body. the poor man was the talk of your hometown thanks to your mom and he didn't even know.

"mhm," you hummed in response to your aunt, a forced chuckle vibrating your upper body. "i plan on it, aunt becca. listen, i'm a bit bus-"

"oh, he's right there, isn't he? i understand. i'll leave you two to be. tell him i said hello and i can't wait to meet him," she cheerily spoke, her goodbye quick and giving you no time to respond as the line went dead.

"so, photos?" this time, price spoke out loud and the grin still present on his face.

"shut up," you huffed, leaning back down and placing the phone on the nightstand before grabbing his face. lips quickly silencing him and anymore questions he might have.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Their Younger Sibling And Part Of The Boys

Requested: Hi! Cliche preference I am sorry, but how would each of The Boys act if R their younger sibling who helps out with the boys is like this really sweet and genuinely nice person to all? Would they be protective, or annoyed, just an idea! Love your work! - anon

A/N: Not cliche at all my love! I absolutely adore this idea! I will 10000% be writing more about being Homelanders sibling!! Thank youuuu I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher wants nothing to do with you. When you're old enough, years after Lenny's death, you escape home and track down Billy. You had nothing. Billy took you in under the guise that it would be temporary and it wouldn't meddle with his work. Bit by bit you learned from M.M. and Frenchie about Becca and Ryan and Vought. You make it known you want to help. Billy forbids you and threatens The Boys: if they even so much as look at you, he'll kill them. Stubbornness runs in the family, though. You worm your way in whether he likes it or not. It's not that didn't miss you or think about you, he just can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. Or killed. Especially at the hands of Vought. It's become a habit for everyone to call him Butcher and you Little Butcher so as not to get confused. Now that there's two of you to keep track of, everyone's a little more annoyed and a lot less forgiving for poor behavior.

Hughie worries about you so much. This life has taken everything from him, he can't imagine why you'd want to join. Still, he knows he can't stop you. You were always coming to his defense as kids, sticking up for him against bullies. You were his backbone for a lot of your childhood. When you want something you go for it. He can't help but lecture you, even over the smallest stuff. After your father passes and your mother finds her way into your lives, he's extra protective. Especially after Tek Knights party, he doesn't let you out of his sight. He's not glad it happened, but he sure is grateful it was him and not you. You've been stabbed and hurt and nearly killed. He jokes that it's taken years off hid life, but there's some truth to it. You're all he's got. He can't lose you. He can't let this life kill you.

Annie stopped talking to your mother a long time ago, but she never stopped calling you. Like your sister, you got a dose of V and trained hard, wanting to be the first pair of siblings in The Seven. After Annie publicly leaves and turns her back on them, you're not sure what to think. Tired of her avoiding the questions, you confront her. You track her down and barge into where The Boys are. You guys get into a pretty serious fight, one everyone can hear through the thin walls. Annie abandoned you. She left Vought and became this fantastical symbol. She had a life and you weren't a part of it. You wanted her to stop lying and avoiding you and tell you exactly what was going on. It takes most of the night, but she tells you everything. In the end, she wants to send you back home with your mother, but you refuse. The Boys need every advantage they can get, that includes you and your abilities. She's not thrilled, but she understands you're an adult, she can't stop you.

M.M. forbids you. Janine is getting into trouble and he's having panic attacks and he just can't have you trying this now. He can't babysit you on top of everything else. You remind him you're an adult, that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. He can yell and scream all he wants, you both know you're not going to stop wanting this. It was your grandfather and father too who were killed by Supes and the stress. You didn't walk away from that unscathed. You had a right to be upset and a right to want to stop Vought. You kept your distance, but Marvin was blowing you off any chance he could get. You got his address from Monique and made a surprise appearance. Butcher tells you everything. You're furious your brother didn't tell you sooner. You could have been a part of this from the beginning. Butcher reminds you it's never too late, but Marvin tells you to go home and leave it to the professionals. You don't. You can't. This is too important. He doesn't like it, but he can't stop you. He never could.

Frenchie couldn't have been happier to have you in his life. Your upbringing was harsh, your father a monster. When he left for New York, he had to make a choice: leave you behind or take you along with him. In the end, he left you behind. The guilt killed him, but you never blamed him. Not then, not now. You learned a lot from him, you're as equally as skilled. As soon as he becomes a part of The Boys, he asks Mallory to look for you. You vanished though. He'd assumed your father had killed you. It isn't until years later that you reappear looking for him, for Serge. You might not have an entire team of powers and knowledge, buy you're smart and skilled and you track him down. He doesn't recognize you at first. You're so much more grown up. But he knows your voice. You're the only one who calls him Serge and most of your conversations are entirely in French. Neither of you are particularly proud of your pasts, choosing instead to live in the moment. When you ask if you can join him he's over the moon. His baby, his best friend, reunited again.

Kimiko can't believe it's you. Like your sister, you and Kenji were captured by the SLLA. Then you and Kimiko were later taken and given Compound V. After that you two were split up. She never thought you made it. It's years later that you escape, killing everyone in your path. Police plaster your face all over the News where Kimiko recognizes you immediately. You're older of course, but you'd always be her baby. She can't let it happen all over again like how it went with Kenji, she can't lose you. Kimiko hunts you down, alongside The Boys, who are wary of you. She assured them you couldn't hurt a fly. The carnage you leave in your wake tells a different story. When you do reconnect, she makes sure they don't draw any of their weapons. You two sign for what feels like forever before she takes you back to The Boys hideout. It hurts her, but she wants to know what happened in all the years between. You and your sister are unstoppable. Literally. You were never meant to have normal lives. This was how it was supposed to be. Trying to be normal just got you hurt.

Bonus! Homelander absolutely fucking hates you. You were created long after him, but you had the same upbringing, the same childhood. The only anomaly was that you turned out far more humane. Because of this, Vought needed extra time to break you in. You never did, though. Not as severely as your brother. Vought was going to turn your debut into this grand political scheme, a massive fuck you to anyone who thought they could stop them, but before they could, you broke out of the labs. Eventually you found your way to The Boys. You and Homelander have identical abilities, though you're not layering through people's skulls or letting entire planes worth of people die. None of them believed you at first, but after you told them about your upbringing and your powers, they had no choice but to believe you. You were exactly what they needed. You and your brother were equals. John wanted you dead just like he wanted the rest of The Boys dead. Keeping you alive was necessary for now. So, he let you live.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 7)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, mommy kink

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi @ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet @polaris-likethestar @ahintofchaos

A/N: hope this was worth the wait ;)

Sleep alright? is the text you get from Agatha the next morning while you’re getting ready for school. Heat runs through you at the very thought of her and you know she’s completely ruined you for anyone else. Memories of last night, of her kissing you, marking you, claiming you, flash through your head as wetness begins to pool in-between your legs. 

You think Agatha might be the death of you. 

Not really, thanks to you. You had spent the night tossing and turning, begging for the fire in your stomach to die down so you could get at least some rest. But it didn’t. You had been so sensitive that even the slightest brush of fabric against your clit when you moved while trying to sleep was enough to make you moan. And then when you had finally drifted off, she was there too, doing everything that you wanted and more. But you had been a good girl for her and somehow resisted the urge to touch yourself. 

She sends back a winky face emoji and I’m always happy to keep you up all night. Damn her and her innuendos that make your face flush. 

You pull the collar of your shirt over, admiring the dark red bruise she sucked into your neck last night in the mirror. A thrill spikes your heart rate and you get an idea. 

You raise your phone and position it so you can snap a picture highlighting the hickey and the taunt veins in your neck. Before you can think too hard about it, you send it with the caption: Think anyone will notice this? 

I hope they do, sweetheart. They should know who you belong to. 

Fuck, that’s hot. Can I come over today? You need her more than air at this point. You are so consumed with the thought of her and you’re not sure anything can put that flame out. 

You have school and no more skipping. 

What about after?

You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you, baby girl? If you’re a good girl today, I’ll think about it. 

You chew on your bottom lip, arousal coursing through your veins. It’s far too early to be this turned on. I’ll be so good for you mommy. 

Agatha begins to type but then the three dots disappear. You curse and hope you didn’t step over the line. 

Your mom calls your name from downstairs, startling you out of your thoughts. “You’re going to be late!” She calls up the stairs. You check the time, swear again, throw your computer into your bag, and run down the stairs. “What were you doing up there?” 

“Nothing, sorry,” you lie hastily. You can’t imagine the truth of dirty texting with your step-mother going over well. “I’ll see you later.” You grab an apple from the bowl on the table and scurry out of the house. 

It isn’t until you’re sliding into your seat in first period when you check your phone again and see a missed text. It’s a picture from Agatha and at first you can’t tell what it is. You click on it so it becomes full-screen and immediately slam your phone face-down on the desk so loud that everyone looks at you. 

“Sorry!” You squeak, picking your phone up and holding it up close to you. 

It’s a picture that Agatha took while laying in bed, the camera pointed away from her face toward her bent legs clad in sweatpants. And her arm is reaching down and under said sweatpants. You cannot get the picture of her touching herself out of your head now. 

Wish you were here to make mommy feel good is the accompanying text. You cannot be doing this at school. But how can you resist?

You almost gave me a heart attack. I’m in class. 

That’s not the only thing I can give you. You can practically hear her purring through the phone. 

What are you thinking about? You watch the bubble indicating her typing with bated breath. 

About how you should be paying attention in class. 

You roll your eyes but see that there’s no point in trying to argue. You guess it’s nice that she actually cares about how you’re doing in school but you don’t hear a single thing any of your teachers say for the rest of the day because you’re too busy thinking about Agatha. 

The second the last bell of the day rings, you call her. She picks up almost immediately. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, sweetheart?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully. “I just got out of the shower and I’m about to get dressed.” 

“Well, don’t,” you say, your initiative shocking both of you. “Is my dad home?” 

“Look at you, kitten, taking control.” She sounds amused. “He hasn’t been here all day and I’ve been so lonely. I had no one to help me out with a little problem I was having so I had to take matters into my own hand.”

Your breath catches. “Can I come over?” Your voice is low, gripped with desire. You’re fully ready to beg if she makes you. 

“Only if you’re going to make it worth my while.”

“I will,” you promise and it comes out needy. The thought of tasting her and feeling her hands wound tight in your hair has kept you close to the edge all day and now you can’t physically wait any longer. 

“I’ll see you soon then.” She hangs up and you all but sprint to your car. You can’t believe this is finally happening. 

You speed the entire way, throwing your car into park and racing up to the front door. It swings open before you even knock, Agatha clearly just as impatient. She’s wearing a robe that comes down mid-thigh, the neckline low. You can see that she’s not wearing anything underneath. 

The moment you step inside, she presses you against the door, her mouth capturing yours in a dominating kiss. Her lips move with raw hunger, tongue licking into your open mouth. 

“Fuck,” you moan into her, hands grappling with the tie holding her robe together. She breaks the kiss only for a second to take your shirt off and then she’s right back on you. She unclasps your bra and her hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples with her fingers as you let out little gasps. You finally get her robe open and drag your hands over her smooth skin. 

“Upstairs,” she mutters against your mouth and pulls you up the staircase, pausing halfway to shove you against the wall and kiss you senseless like the thought of waiting is too unbearable. 

She leads you into her room – is it weird that you find it sexy that she’s going to fuck you in the bed she shares with your dad? – and pushes you down onto the bed. You watch in awe as Agatha shrugs off her robe, taking in her naked body. You saw hints of it in the darkness last night, but seeing it now, she is so much better than you ever could’ve dreamed. 

“You’re so hot,” you breathe. Her cheeks redden and she helps you take off your pants until you’re just in your underwear. 

“Did you behave last night?” She asks, stepping in-between your open legs and standing over you. Her hands rest on your thighs. 

“Yes, I didn’t touch myself. I wanted to so badly though.” 

“Good girl,” she says in a low voice and you clench around nothing. “Do you want to know what I was thinking about today?” 

You nod so hard it hurts. Her fingers start to ghost up and down your legs. You’re literally aching. 

“I was thinking about you spread out nicely for me, like you are right now. About how you would feel around my fingers, about the noises you would make as I tasted you. How pretty you’d sound while begging for mommy to fuck you.” There’s a glint in her eyes as she tells you this, enjoying the way you’re squirming below her.

You think you might be dripping onto the bed. 

“Would you like that, baby girl?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you whimper. 

“Have you learned your lesson from last night?” 

“I belong to you,” you repeat. She nods her approval, a hand moving to stroke you over your underwear. You mutter a curse under your breath. “Please.” 

“‘Please’ what, baby girl?” Agatha asks innocently. “Use your words for mommy.” 

“Anything,” you say, frustration leaking into your tone. “I just want to feel you.” 

“Why didn’t you just say so?” She leans down over you and licks a hot stripe up your stomach, your back arching off the bed in pleasure. She kneels on the floor in front of you and lifts your hips so she can peel your underwear off. You then watch with your mouth agape as she tugs them down your legs with only her teeth. 

You think you could get off on that sight alone. 

Agatha kisses her way back up your thighs, suckling on the inner flesh, leaving matching marks to the one she left on your neck yesterday. At this point, you’re shaking with need. 

“Mommy,” you whine, hands fisting in the sheets. 

And then her tongue is delving through your folds and you keen loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on right now. Her hands dig into your thighs, keeping them open as she circles her tongue around your clit. You’re practically in tears with how good it feels. 

She brings you to the edge and then backs off and then repeats that a few times. Your hips are moving on their own, seeking out the pleasure you need from her mouth. 

And then she stops entirely, pulling away. The bottom of her face is drenched. 

“No!” You cry, still grinding up on nothing now. 

“You poor baby. So needy,” she coos, standing up and moving so she’s straddling you. She reaches down in-between your bodies and slides a finger swiftly inside you. You moan loudly, your fingers scrambling to grab onto her. 

But she smirks and pins both your hands above your head with her free hand. “Maybe next time I’ll tie you up,” she muses and the threat makes your stomach twist hotly and she sees the expression on your face that tells her you’d be more than willing to do that. 

And then she starts to move the finger that’s inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” she grunts, picking up the pace of her thrusts. She squeezes another finger in you and curls them just right every time, hitting that special spot. 

“I’m close,” you choke out and she laughs. 

“I haven’t even been fucking you for five minutes,” Agatha mocks. “Is mommy making you feel good?” 

“So good, I love your fingers inside me,” you babble, getting closer to your peak. Her thumb reaches up to rub your clit in tune with her thrusts and you think this is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven. 

Your step-mom leans down and kisses you roughly, sliding her tongue in your mouth right as she gives you one hard thrust and that’s it for you. 

You cum with a loud gasp, her name the only thing you can say. She keeps fucking you until you have to physically beg her to stop because it’s too much. 

She sticks her wet fingers in your mouth and watches with rapt attention as you bob your head around them. 

“You’d look so pretty with my strap-on in your mouth,” she says wistfully, her other hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. She smirks at the way you inhale, your cheeks tightening around her fingers. “Would you like that, sweetheart? Getting on your knees and sucking mommy’s cock?” You nod, eyes wide and looking up at her. “Of course you would.” 

She pulls out her fingers with a pop and smears your saliva all over your cheeks. 

“Can I taste you now?” You ask, enjoying the way Agatha’s eyes darken. 

“Can I sit on your face, baby?” 

You moan in approval and she’s climbing up your body when she suddenly freezes. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong but she shushes you. Your brow furrows and you listen carefully. 

There’s the faint sound of the garage rumbling from downstairs and a look of panic has settled over Agatha’s face. 

Your dad is home. And you’re in bed with his wife. 

[lovings4turn]

becca, my love. i saw that your blurb requests are open, so can i request oscar with "taking off their makeup when they're too tired"? thank you!

ᯓ★  𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 — 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

ahhh nora lovely thank you sm for sending this in !!! adore writing for oscar so thank you for giving me the opportunity to 🤭🤭 this ended up being longer than i expected but what can i say i got carried away !!! hope you like this lovely

indistinct dialogue washes over you as your ears tune in to the sound of oscar’s heartbeat, the sound much more preferable to the drama of the characters currently on the screen in front of you. 

curled against your boyfriend’s chest, the glow of the television washing over you both and bathing you in a fuzzy, low light, you find it hard to keep your eyes open for longer than a minute at a time. 

oscar is just so warm, the fabric of his hoodie against your skin so soft, and you had woken up disgustingly early that morning for an eight am class that preceded a long study session at the library. so, it’s no surprise that your exhaustion is quickly catching up to you, a lion stalking its prey.

since his gaze has been resting on you rather than the random sit-com for the past ten minutes, oscar is quick to notice the drowsiness consuming your features. 

“let’s get you to bed, eh?” oscar asks, patting your side twice with the tips of his fingers to prompt you to stand.

“i’m not even that tired,” you protest, words coming out in a low whine thanks to your desperation to remain in the warm embrace of oscar’s arms.

“tell that to your eyes, sweetheart. they’re practically closed.”

almost on cue, you lift your hand to rub at your tired eyes before you stop abruptly, loose fist hovering just in front of your face. a frustrated noise escapes you, and your head falls back against oscar’s chest at the realisation.

“i still have to take my makeup off.”

oscar fixes you with a look of amused pity. though he’s clearly sympathetic to your plight, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find your theatrics somewhat entertaining.

strong arms wrap around your waist, and oscar gently helps you to your feet, sending you off to bed with the promise that he’ll be right behind you.

curiosity picks at your mind, but you’re far too tired to argue or ask questions. your body operates on autopilot as it leads you down the hall to your bedroom, and you flop down onto the soft mattress without hesitation.

never had you been more thankful at oscar’s insistence that you wear his clothes as much as possible: already dressed in one of his old t-shirts and some pyjama shorts, getting changed into something cosier was not a problem you would have to tackle tonight.

oscar appears a few minutes later, and it seems that he’s brought the entirety of your skincare shelf with him. countless bottles and tubs are piled up in his arms, threatening to spill over as he fumbles towards the bed. 

with furrowed brows, oscar drops the bundle of products onto your comforter and lets out a breath, beginning to survey the many different items sitting in front of him. “right then, let’s see,” he mumbles, picking up one product at a time and scanning the labels with such an intensity that, had you the energy, you would have teased him for.

“moisturiser, no. facial scrub, no. hyaluronic aci- what even is this stuff?”

you can’t help it. a laugh bubbles up in your throat, and though your eyes are heavy with sleep, oscar can see the way that the crinkle slightly at the intensity of your smile.

as fun as it is to listen to oscar grow increasingly confused with each skincare product he scrutinises, you decide it’s best to put him out of his misery sooner rather than later. “purple bottle, babe. might wanna grab some cotton pads, too. next to where you grabbed everything else from.”

oscar follows your instructions instantly, setting your makeup remover off to the side before he scoops the other products up into his arms once more, heading to return them to their rightful home in your bathroom. he soon returns triumphant, holding up the packet of cotton pads in his left hand as though it’s one of his racing trophies.

idiot, you think fondly.

soon, he’s sitting beside you, tilting your face upwards towards him with two fingers. the movement is tender, and you can’t help but lean forward to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

with a level of care you imagine someone would reserve for a newborn, oscar begins to swipe away at your makeup, putting a lot of effort into not tugging at your skin.

every so often, he speaks, questions of “feel alright?” and “not hurting you, am i?” filling the otherwise peaceful silence. 

each time your answer is the same: a slight shake of the head with a reassuring hum. you’re convinced that oscar could never be anything but tender with you, and this only adds to your hypothesis. 

a few seconds pass, and you can no longer feel oscar wiping at your face. your eyes flutter open, greeted by the sight of oscar admiring you with an adoring expression.

a light flush dusts the top of his cheekbones, and his lips are pulled up into a foolish, love-sick grin. he doesn’t shy away when he realises he’s been caught, only moves to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “now,” he starts, voice playful. “wanna tell me what the next step is, babe?”

[muldermuse]

Haunted House (exboyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

booooOooooooo!! this is angst. im always down to talk about exboyfriend!butcher so send me asks <3

warnings: angst, smut, infidelity mentioned, unhappy relationship, butcher is a meanie. thank you @butchersdarkbird for the help ❤️ dividers by @saradika-graphics

There’s a ghost in his quiet house.

He used to like it like this; this was his preference. A fact that is so confusing and disconcerting to him now. He always preferred peace and a space that just belonged to him. His home was his and his alone. He swore after losing Becca, he would never allow himself to go through another heartbreak.

Then, of course, he met you.

He wasn’t ready for a relationship but he couldn’t not have you. He’s greedy to his bones, his mind tells him that his gluttony killed Becca- he couldn’t bear to share her with her own child. So with you, he rushed into a relationship when he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to open his heart. His chest ached when you readily opened yours to him.

You were an abundance of love, an overflowing fountain of adoration for him and him alone. You looked at him as if he hung the moon and in your mind; he did that and more. You told him you loved him quickly and he fucked you so hard that it was all you could whine as his cock plunged deep in you.

“Tell me you love me again darlin’, please, i need to hear it”. He cums as you scream out that you love him. He rests his damp head on your heaving chest- he has to hear your heartbeat so he knows that you’re real. Not his mind playing another cruel joke.

You made him feel alive. After Becca, it was just pills, violence and drink. Now it’s you. It’s homecooked meals, sloppy blowjobs on the couch and being held tight in his sleep. He didn’t need to be beaten just to feel blood running through his veins anymore. Seeing your smile did it just fine.

You move in, slowly but surely. For every twenty times you tell him you love him, he tells you once. He knows he’s let you in too far and he’s terrified. He’s going to hurt you- just like he hurt Becca. Seeing your pink towels litter his floor and your coffee cups sitting dirty in the sink starts to make his heart hurt.

Billy Butcher doesn’t deserve good things and you are the best thing of all.

The way he pushes you from him is cruel. The sight of tears filling your eyes as he distances himself from you confirms that he’s a cruel man. He could say he learned it from his father but he’s unsure if that would make it better or worse.

He comes home late and drunk when he knows you planned to cook for him. You’re fast asleep in his sheets as he eats his favourite meal cold. He wakes before you do in the morning, replies to your texts coolly and heads back to the bar after work. He reacquaints himself with fellow patrons he swore he would never converse with again. The barmaid he slept with whilst with Becca has the same glint in her eye; a siren calling his ship astray. She has no idea he’s already crashed it and his body is floating under the surface.

The arguments are fierce, blazing. He fucks you after as an apology. After the third time that week, it tells you he isn’t serious. He’s withdrawn and it hurts you so badly that you feel physical pain every moment you’re together. You hear him stumble in one night, drunkenly sliding into bed with you and whispering a promise that he’s going to change. Drunken pleas to the back of your head that he needs time but he loves you so he has to do it.

Little does he know that the removal van parked outside on the street is yours.

Your friends offered to help you pack up your stuff but it felt to embarrassing to let anyone else into your shared space. They’d warned you about him when you first started dating.

“Are you sure he’s over his ex?”

“Isn’t that the guy who blew you off five times before the first date?”

“Do you not think this is going a bit too quick?”

So you pack your trinkets alone. Letting the tears fall with no warm faces to console you. Part of you wishes you were angrier, filled with enough rage that you smash his belongings, rip his clothes and write how much you hate him on his white walls. You want to leave a mark, a sign to Billy that you once shared this space happily.

You realise it would hurt him more to just go quietly.

Billy knows anger, is well acquainted burning rage and pain. He hasn’t known peace in a long time. You used to think he did with you but now you’re not convinced.

Once the van is packed and you’ve done your final check around the rooms, you get ready to leave. You take the Lego keyring he always took the piss out of off his spare key and post it through his letterbox. You allow yourself to cry, to grieve the life that you lived with him as you drive to your friends.

In the first few hours of being at her home (yours as well for the time being) you await your romcom moment. The moment where Billy walks through the door with flowers and your spare key; begging for you to come home. You allow your mind to float away to him grovelling, tears in his eyes because he can’t express to you how much he loves you but he’ll do anything to prove it. You drift off without realising and wake up in the morning.

No calls, no texts, no contact from Billy Butcher.

There’s a ghost in his house that has been taunting him for months.

He’s never understood why people go out for Halloween so early. Frenchie and Hughie call him a killjoy, they tell him he doesn’t understand the ‘fun’ of it. He doesn’t want to understand. He never minded the festivities when he was with you. He rolled his eyes when you came back from the store with garish Halloween candy but would delight in sharing them with you on the sofa. He’d watch every horror movie you put on; insisting that you could only watch horror in October. His favourite was when you’d dress up, taunting him in lingerie and riding him on the sofa until he came deep inside you.

The bar is busier than usual. He’s throwing back his whiskeys like he has no where to be and, really, he doesn’t. The only thing calling him is an empty bed. He overhears the guy next to him defending his costume.

He slurs, “no you gotta see my girlfriend for it to make sense…I’m-hic-mustard and she’s ketchup. It doesn’t work if we’re not both here…wait I’ll get her”

The guy shouts your name.

It feels like someone has poured ice cold water over him. Butcher knows he shouldn’t turn to look at you, he should finish his drink, tip his bartender and leave.

You look great, healthier than when he’d last seen you. Your smile is as welcoming as ever and your eyes glisten when you look up at him- not him, your boyfriend. The much younger looking man currently sliding his hand down your hip to your ass. You look so fucking happy. Butcher can’t remember the last time you looked like that.

He had drained it from you.

Your boyfriend mumbles something about the bathroom, leaving you stood alone at the bar- Butcher feels brave enough to tap your shoulder. Your delighted expression drops when you see him.

“S’a good costume darlin’” he can’t hide the sadness in his voice. When he came home and you’d left, he decided to bury it down. He told the rest of the boys that you were on a break, of course it had been months and he lashed out whenever someone spoke your name. That told them all they needed to know.

You don’t respond, he can’t tell if the expression on your face is shock, anger or despair.

“S’a good couples costume…your fella looks good an’ all, closer to your age” the age difference was always a point of contention for others but you both liked it. You thought an older man would know how to treat you properly. Butcher tips the rest of his whiskey down his throat, trying to hide the burn of the amber liquid as it slides down.

He spots your boyfriend coming back and you still haven’t said anything. You’re just staring at him. He panics as it occurs to him that this might be the last thing he says to you.

“I was a fuckin’ cunt to ya darlin’, i should h-“ your pulled away before he can finish. You turn back to face him as you’re dragged through the bustling crowd by your boyfriend. He sees tears fill your eyes, again. Just like they did when he was cold to you and just like when he told you he didn’t love you in a drunken rage.

He hates that he knows that devastated expression well. Hates even more that he always seems to cause it.

The words have died on his tongue.

He didn’t even get to say sorry.

The ghost has been in the house ever since that night.

He wakes in a cold sweat hearing your giggle ripple through the corridor. He smells your perfume when he enters the bathroom. He’s finding more of your belongings than ever before. Socks, trinkets and hair ties scattered across the floor.

He tried communicating with you. He text you, called you and even turned up at your workplace- just to be told to leave by your best friend. “I think you’ve done enough damage already, don’t you?”.

He knows he has, he doesn’t need to be reminded.

He ends up talking aloud to your presence lingering in the house. He apologises in the dead of night, he compliments your perfume once he gets out of the shower and he puts your belongings in a bag. Promising that he’ll deliver them to you one day, along with the long awaited face to face apology.

It’s October 31st when the ghost finally communicates.

you [received: 9:19pm]: that guy was never my boyfriend. i think you hurt me too much for that.

you [received: 9:19pm]: im drunk. it hurts to think about you. please don’t text me again. dont turn up at my work. dont call.

you [received 9:20pm]: im blocking you. i never want to hear from you again. i fucking hate you.

Butcher panics, he calls you frantically but nothing goes through; no texts are sending. He drinks himself to sleep. He’s not sure if he’s still drunk when he wakes up but your side of the bed is warm. Your hair is on the pillow, your perfume is in the air and he hears your voice in the corridor. He smiles as he touches the warmth you’ve left. He falls back asleep with a smile.

It was a dream.

Of course it fucking was.

The bed is cold and the only smell is the spilled whiskey on his carpet. The room has never looked as bare. He tries your phone one final time. Just in case, he speaks aloud to you.

There’s no answer.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [26] - Breaking the Rules

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

Summary: Fighting for the crown comes with decisions.

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

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

Series Masterlist

Growing up as your father’s heir, you had to memorize certain rules.

Honoring the alliances was one of them. No family could survive on its own in this line of work against all the others, and it was a matter of honor not to cross or go behind your allies.

Not putting civilians in danger was another. The business and its deals or disagreements could only affect the people who chose to be in it, civilians were always off limits.

But the most important rule that was drilled into your and every heir’s head?

Never, ever do anything to break the truce.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you tried to smile at Becca. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

No.

No you really weren’t.

What you and Bucky were planning was way too dangerous, which meant that you couldn’t say that to anyone, Becca included.

“Sure!” you said as Leila came back to the table, carrying coffees.

“Thanks babe,” Becca pecked her on the lips and she smiled at her.

“Not a problem!” she said. “So, is there any reason why you look so gloomy, Y/N?”

Shit.

“Gloomy?” you asked with a small laugh. “I don’t look gloomy.”

“Is Ethan being his tortured lover self again?”

“He’s not—” you stopped yourself. “I haven’t talked to him in a while actually.”

“Bucky then?”

“Oh is this about that girl you told me about?” Becca asked. “Anna?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh…”

“Anna?” Leila asked and Becca waved a hand in the air.

“This incredibly hot woman Bucky is doing business with.”

“Did I say she was incredibly hot?”

“You said hot and I stalked her,” Becca said helpfully, “She is incredibly hot.”

“Thanks a lot Bec,” you muttered and Leila tilted her head.

“Let me see!”

“I’m not gloomy because of Anna,” you said and paused for a moment. “Although, Bucky does have a meeting with her today.”

“Here,” Becca said, handing her the phone and Leila raised her brows, staring at the screen before licking her lips.

“Maybe she just has a terrible personality.”

“You guys are the best,” you muttered and Becca let out a laugh.

“We’re joking, obviously you’re hotter.”

“For some reason I highly doubt that,” you pointed out and Leila rolled her eyes at you.

“You are,” she said. “But jealousy is less about looks and more about the vibes.”

“I’m not jealous!” you said, your voice going a pitch higher before you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t even thinking about her until you brought her up.”

“Then what—” Becca started but your phone started vibrating on the table, making you grimace when your eyes fell on the caller ID.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you said and grabbed your phone, then walked out of the café to answer it. “Auntie?”

“Y/N hi honey!” her cheerful voice reached you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, I’m just with my friends,” you said and she hummed.

“Well then, clear out your schedule for the afternoon because we’re having an aunt-niece lunch,” she said, making your eyes widen.

“Oh I actually—I had this thing—”

“I already made the reservation, I’ll send you the details,” she cut off your stammering. “See you in two hours!”

With that, she hung up and you threw your head back, letting out a groan.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Just what I needed today.”

                                                       *

Of course your aunt had picked a restaurant in your father’s territory and of course it was already swarming with your father’s people. Unlike you, she had no problem with being followed by bodyguards even if the restaurant seemed to be closed to any other people but you two and the bodyguards, so you tried not to roll your eyes as you sat down, the waitress bringing your food almost immediately. You pulled your brows together and your aunt sat up straighter.

“I ordered for the both of us already,” she said, making you hum.

“Wonderful,” you said. “Thanks.”

“So,” she smiled at you. “I figured today is as good of a day as any to catch up!”

No, today was supposed to be about you having an existential crisis at home, and yet here you were.

“How’s marriage going?”

Jesus Christ.

“It’s going well,” you said curtly before digging into the salad in front of you. “And you? How are you after the break up?”

“Oh,” she waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not talk about that. Bucky seems like he grew into such a gentleman!”

“Mm hm.”

“And George is happy being retired?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Bucky is doing a great job,” you said, unaware of the proud tone in your voice. “So yes. He probably does miss being more involved in the business but it’s Bucky’s time now. George knows it.”

“Promising heir turns into successful king, not much of a surprise there,” she commented and you sipped your wine.

“Exactly.”

“And speaking of heirs…” your aunt said, making your eyes shoot up to hers.

Fucking—

Yeah, you had walked right into that.

You knew that everything you said and did, even the smallest reaction would be reported back to either Ian or your father, so you had to keep your calm. Even though anger had started to boil deep inside you, you lowered your wine glass, tilting your head at her.

“Hm?”

“Your father may have mentioned that things between you and him are rather tense lately,” she said. “Especially after him naming Ian as his heir.”

You frowned, feigning confusion before taking your fork into your mouth again.

“I didn’t think they were tense,” you said after swallowing your bite. “Is that what he thinks?”

She paused only for a moment.

“It is,” she said. “And you know how important family is. We don’t always have to see eye to eye, but we do have to support each other.”

“Does father think I won’t support Ian?” you asked silkily and she licked her lips, deep in thought.

“Ian worked really hard to be where he is right now, Y/N,” she said, making you pull your brows together. “I am aware that you might feel some resentment but that position belongs to Ian now. And we as his family must make sure to make his job easier.”

You wanted to laugh at the audacity but managed to keep your expression under control. Of course she supported him, that much wasn’t surprising but—

Ian working for where he was?

He hadn’t even bothered to go through half of the training you had.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” you told her. “It’s father’s job to make Ian’s job easier, he was the one who named him heir. What I think about his decision doesn’t hold any power in this, I’m not in the business—”

“Yes you are.”

You scoffed. “Well, that’s news to me then. Do you know something I don’t?”

She shot you a look.

“You and I both know that some bosses in the city support you to become the heir, not Ian.”

You bit back a smirk and took another sip of your wine.

“Which is normal, outsiders can have different ideas, it’s the family that decides on the heir,” she said. “But Bucky…Bucky is family now.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t control Bucky.”

“Yes you do,” she insisted. “And Bucky doesn’t necessarily like Ian, does he?”

The realization dawned on you in a second; your father hadn’t put your aunt up to this.

Ian had, because he felt threatened by Bucky.

Which in all honesty was a bit insulting, because even with other bosses supporting you to become the heir, he still didn’t think you yourself were a viable threat to him.

You pushed at your salad with your fork, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Strange as it may sound, me and Bucky don’t really spend our time talking about Ian,” you said and your aunt heaved a sigh, then reached out to clasp her hand over yours.

“Honey,” she said. “You know what will happen if a war breaks out.”

“Tell that to Ian, not me,” you said. “He seemed to be very interested in a war the last time we spoke. I know what happens if a war breaks out, does he?”

“He’s still very excited to prove himself,” she said, making you clench your jaw. “So he may come across a bit… wild but he will not start a war.”

“Funny how everyone around him seems to have to make excuses for him.”

“So many people died before the truce,” she insisted. “So many families. I know that your father promised you that position, but you cannot set the whole city on fire just because he changed his mind. Ian is the heir now, you and everyone else need to make your peace with it.”

Anger was pulsing through your veins and you dug your fingernails into your palm, then pushed at your plate and stood up.

“I have this thing, so…”

“Y/N—”

“And for the record, I’m not setting the whole city on fire,” you told her. “Make sure to hear the same thing from Ian, will you? Because from the looks of it, people aren’t that thrilled to do business with him when he’s been foaming at the mouth to start a war.”

With that, you walked out of the restaurant with your bodyguards following you.

                                              *

As much as you hated to admit, your aunt’s words did manage to make you even more restless. You had tried to take a nap but it was no use, and by the time Bucky got home, you had been pacing in the apartment for almost an hour now. He had some blood on him so he had gone straight to the bathroom to take a long shower, and when he came back, he found you by the window, your gaze fixed on the skyline.

“Hey beautiful.”

You looked over your shoulder and tried to smile at him.

“Hey,” you said. “Whose blood was it?”

“Some idiot,” he said. “Not important. Are you okay?”

“How was the meeting with Anna?”

“It was good, everything is going pretty smoothly. Are you okay?”

You turned around to see him better, then nodded your head.

“Sure!” you said. “There’s uh…there’s dinner in the—”

“What’s going on?” he cut you off, stepping closer to you and you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s been a long day.”

“I thought you were meeting Becca today.”

“I did,” you said. “Then my aunt asked to have lunch together so that totally ruined my day.”

He raised his brows. “What did she say?”

“Usual bullshit,” you said. “She wants me to support Ian.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, that’s gonna happen.”

“And Ian is intimidated by you.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Does he also know the only reason he’s alive is because of the truce he’s been so excited to break? Someone should let him know.”

“He thinks he’s untouchable, you know that,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “He doesn’t even carry a gun, he’s that sure of himself. Ryan carries his gun for him.”

Bucky threw his head back. “Does he—” he started but was cut off when his phone vibrated on the table. Your heart skipped a beat as he read the text message, then held up the phone.

“So…” he said. “Are we doing this tonight?”

You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster before you ran a hand over your face.

“Bucky, is this a mistake?”

He tilted his head. “Why would it be a mistake?”

“We’re ordering a hit on a shipment,” you whispered. “That’s breaking the truce.”

“Eh, it’s not like they’ll know who did it.”

“But if they somehow figure it out?” you insisted as you stepped away from him to pace in the room again. “I keep telling myself Ian is the wrong choice, but what does it say about me that I’m willing to risk war? That I’m willing to risk so much bloodshed just to get there?”

“That you have what it takes.”

“Do I?” you asked him. “At that cost? You heard the same thing I did while we were growing up, over and over again. Never break the truce—”

“We’re not breaking the truce,” he assured you. “No one will know it’s us, and even if they did somehow figure it out; your father will kill me on grounds of breaking the truce sweetheart, nothing will happen to you.”

Even the thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t say that,” you murmured, rubbing at your eyes. “Just don’t.”

He shot you a playful smile. “I thought you wanted me dead.”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” you grumbled as you approached the window to look outside again. “It just feels…”

“Overwhelming?” he asked you as he came closer before his hands clasped over your shoulders, massaging there, making your eyes flutter close.

“A little,” you admitted and he hummed.

 “Of course it’s overwhelming, we’re pushing you to the top.”

You opened your eyes again, then turned around to look at him better.

“Why are you risking your own life for this?”

“Because I want to see you at the top of the food chain,” he said, then flashed you a smirk. “And on top of me but—”

“Bucky,” you said warningly as if that didn’t make your stomach do a happy flip despite the tension and he chuckled.

“Because unlike what your father seems to think, you’re the right choice for this.”

“And you still think that about me even if I’m putting the truce in danger right now?” you asked and his smile widened.

“You could shoot me right now and I’d still think that, princess.”

You nibbled on your lip, a warmth spreading in your chest before you let out a bitter chuckle.

“We’re both fucked up, you do realize that?”

“I know,” he said. “But fucked up or not, will you be alright when Ian inevitably burns your father’s empire down? The empire that belongs to you?”

You swallowed thickly as he ran his fingertips over your bare arm, awakening fire underneath your skin.

“Stop playing by your father’s rules,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “It’s your game now, you make the rules.”

You pursed your lips together before taking a deep breath, then looked up at him.

“Give the order.”

Bucky smiled at you, then touched the phone’s screen before taking it to his ear.

“Do it,” he said, then hung up, making you let out a breath, your head spinning because of the adrenaline rushing through you. Bucky stepped closer to press a kiss on your temple and you rested your forehead on his chest for a moment, letting his irresistible scent fill your nostrils.

“You’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” you muttered to his chest and pulled back to nod your head as if trying to convince yourself. “I am.”

“You are,” Bucky said, then smiled at you. “So let’s get drinks and dessert, hm? To celebrate your first ever hit order in the business?”

A nervous laughter climbed up your throat. “What?”

“Yeah I’ll even put a candle on the champagne— or on the cake, I haven’t decided yet,” he told you, pulling you by the wrist through the room while you giggled.

“Bucky wait, I need to do my makeup if we’re going out—”

“Less whining more walking princess, come on,” he said and you snatched your coat off the hanger as you walked past it, then followed him out of the apartment, still smiling.

Chapter 27

[blythsholland]

Birthday - Tom Blyth x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Tom Blyth x Female!reader

WC: 1.2K

Warnings: None.

Summary: It’s Tom’s birthday and you find a way to make it special for him.

AN: Happy Birthday to our Tom! Hope he’s having a blast today! Hope you all enjoy!

February 2 is a usual day for others. However, for Tom, it is a special day. The day he celebrated another year around the sun. He did not care about big celebrations; the only thing that mattered to him was spending this day with you and all his loved ones. Everything was going according to plan, but sometimes things do not go that way. Tom has work that day. Not that it did not matter; he was more than happy to be on set and do what he loved. But your work duties got in the way. And unfortunately, you were not going to be able to make it for his special day.

It was only a week ago when you had called him to tell him the news. “Hi, handsome. How is filming going?”

"Hi, my love. Everything is going great so far. We only have a few scenes left until we finish this episode." He responded with a smile on his face.

He was already in bed, tired eyes looking back at you. He was the embodiment of cozy in that moment. His hair was all over the place, still damp from the shower. A greenish hoodie hugged his torso, looking as cuddly as ever. And you wished to be there, with his arms wrapped around you, your head on his chest.

“You look so cozy right now. Wishing I was there with you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But don’t worry, only a week left until I see you.” And when you stayed quiet, he got worried.

A deep sigh escaped your lips. “About that… Work has been hectic. And now I have a big meeting on your birthday that I cannot miss. I even talked to my boss about it. I told them how I had asked for that day off. But I could not get out of it. I am so sorry.”

“Hey, look at me. I understand love. There are things we cannot control. We will celebrate when the time is right. Do not let that mind of yours tell you otherwise.”

The look on his face let you know how he was feeling. To say he was disappointed was understandable. But he knew you were going to celebrate when the time was right. What he did not know was that you had a plan. And you were going to make his birthday special.

And precisely, that was what you had done. Another talk with your boss worked in your favor. You had gotten out of the meeting but with a condition. You needed to work a few extra hours at the office. The only downside was flying on his actual birthday. But fortunately, it was a quick flight.

Tom did not know, of course. To him, he thought you were going to be working. He told you about the new birthday plans, dinner with the cast, and then some Karaoke. Being aware of said plans, you had messaged his co-star to help you with a surprise.

And so, Tom’s birthday came. And you were packed and ready to go! On your way to the airport, you decided to FaceTime him. It did not take long for him to respond.

A smile was already on his face when he was greeted by you singing Happy Birthday. “Happy Birthday to you, my love! I love you so much! Wish I could be there with you today.”

“Thank you, darling. I love you so much more. I have a small break now. That is why I am at my trailer right now. Are you in an Uber?” Curiosity took over his face. Work was a few blocks away from your shared apartment. So usually, you would walk.

“Yes, I did not have the energy to walk to work today. So, I decided on an Uber instead. A package should arrive later with presents for you. And do not give me that look. I told you I was going to send something either way.”

You talked for a few minutes until it was time to go. Being aware to end the call before reaching the airport so Tom would not notice.

“Okay, handsome. I am letting you go now since I am close to work. I will call you later. I love you.” You blew a few kisses through the camera and so did he, before hanging up.

A few hours later, you arrived. Tom’s co-star, Becca, had picked you up from the airport. And now it was evening, meaning the cast was on their way to the restaurant where Tom’s birthday dinner was going to be. You and Becca agreed on a plan, and it was time to act on it.

Arriving at the restaurant, only a few people were there. Tom was nowhere to be seen yet. Giving you time to prepare and get ready for his arrival. And soon enough, everyone was seated. Tom is sitting in the middle. And funny enough, an empty spot was next to him, as if he somehow knew you were there.

When Becca gave you the signal, that’s when you walked in. Some waiters trailed behind you. All of them singing along with Happy Birthday. Your eyes locked with Tom’s and he immediately grinned.

“Happy Birthday dear Tom, Happy Birthday to you!” You sang along as you stood beside him and placed the cake on his table.

Tom looked at you in pure awe, his blue eyes wide, a big grin on his lips. The next thing you know, he stood up, engulfing you in a big hug. A hearty laugh escaped you.

“I knew something was up when I saw the seat next to me, empty. I cannot believe you are here.” His hands caressed your cheeks as he captured your lips in his. It was a small kiss. His lips were soft and an evident smile was behind them. He sure would’ve kept kissing you but there were people in the room.

You both pulled away with a small peck. “Surprise, my love!”

Taking their seats, everyone was back to their world, talking amongst themselves.

“When did you get here?” Tom turned to you, his hands grabbing yours. He needed to feel you.

"I got here almost two hours ago. Becca picked me up. And when I called you earlier, I was on the way to the airport."

"And what about that meeting you had?”

“I pulled some strings but I will tell you everything later. Right now, I want to celebrate you.” You smile at him. He smiled back, his soft gaze on you.

“ I love you so much. Thank you for being here." He pulled you in for another small kiss until one of his cast members interrupted him.

"Alright Tom, make a wish! We want some cake!" Everyone chuckled around them.

Tom looked at everyone, glad that they were there. But most importantly, he looked at you. A smile on your face, content you were there with him.

"I don't need to make one. I already have my wish right here with me." He mentioned, pressing a kiss on your forehead. His love was there, and that was all that mattered to him.

youruser just posted a photo.

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler, hunterschafer, and others

youruser Happy Birthday, my love! You make me the happiest! I love you❤️ @ tomblyth

↪️ tomblyth Thank you, my darling. And thank you for the beautiful surprise today. I love you more than you can imagine. ❤️

rachelzegler Happy Birthday bestie Tom!!! 🫂

↪️ tomblyth Thank you songbird! 🫶🏻

tomholland2013 Yooo, Happy Birthday! 🙌🏻🙌🏻

user my parents! Happy Birthday! 🥹

youruser added to their story.

~~~~~~~~~~

[athena-writes-i-guess]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: “I saw that. You just checked out my ass.”

A/N: Hello friend! Thank you so much for this request! I had a lot of fun writing this and it’s helped so much with my writers block! I really hope you like this piece as much as I do!

It was Tuesday night and you were sitting at a table in the Hideout, waiting for Corroded Coffin to play. This was normal for you, you had been coming to these shows for years at this point. You had started going when Eddie was just your best friend and you had the biggest crush on him, but now it was almost mandatory that you go see your boyfriend play. Not from him, no, he would never make you go to his shows if you didn’t want to. But you were determined to be there for every gig, wanting to support him in any way you could.

They had just finished setting up when Eddie bounded up to you, an excited smile on his face as he closed the distance. “Hey beautiful. Come here often?” He asked as he leaned against the table, shooting you one of his signature shit-eating grins with a wink.

“I do actually, I come see this totally rad band every week.” You grinned, watching Eddie light up as you played along with him.

“Oh yeah? That’s wild. See, I happen to know the guitarist really well actually.” He said like he was telling you a secret. “I could get you in VIP to meet him and everything.”

“You’d do that for me?” You asked with feigned flattery.

“For you? Oh yeah, I’d do pretty much anything you asked me.” Eddie said, smiling brightly as he watched you flush from his words.

“Anything? Wow that’s a lot. How about a kiss?” You asked, sending him a flirty smile.

Eddie raised his eyebrows in a faux surprise and pointed to himself while mouthing, “Me?”. Loving the way you giggled as you nodded excitedly. “I suppose I could do that.” He grinned.

He moved to stand next to you, reaching out to gently move some hair out of your face before cupping your cheek. He took a long look at you as he stroked the apple of your cheek, a fond smile on his face as you flushed again under his gaze before he slowly closed the distance.

His lips were soft on yours. Soft and confident as he moved them slowly against yours. Savoring the way your plush lips felt on his as he breathed you in. Ready to get lost in you for the rest of the night. But he pulled away, albeit reluctantly, because he knew his time before the set was almost up.

“How about we continue this after the set? I’ll take you to the VIP after party and everything.” He smirked, watching the dazed look on your face as you recovered from his kiss.

You nodded your head, “I’d love that. Tell the guitarist to break a leg for me.” You said as he started to turn from you.

He nodded, shooting you a wink before taking a few steps away. He looked back quickly with a goofy smile on his face to see you watching. “I saw that. You just checked out my ass.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “You wish Munson.” You said with a shit-eating grin of your own.

A look of hurt washed over Eddie’s face as he walked back over to you, a pout on full display, “Babe!” He whined. “Why won’t you check out my ass?”

You rolled your eyes again with a chuckle, “Okay, you silly boy. I was totally checking out your ass. It’s the best, tightest, ass I’ve ever seen.” You replied, laughing as his pout was replaced with a beaming smile.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He said, the character he had been playing before a distant memory now, “Let’s get milkshakes after the show okay?” He suggested softly, hearing his band getting ready to start the show.

“Sounds great Eds. Love you, break a leg, pretty boy!” You said quickly before he ran towards the stage.

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @cityofidek @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-tittie @becca-alexa

[pr]

here are the pages ive been recommended:

sjp at UT dallas

american muslim for palestine texas

cair-texas DFW

psl dfw

does anyone in the dallas fort worth area know of palestinian support groups i could keep up with? i missed the protest of the one group i could find in the area

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 2

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

A/N: The response to pt. 1 was incredible! Thank you guys so much. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Genre: Angst/Fluff / WC: 1,341 /Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Kidnapping, canon-typical violence. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

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previous part | series masterlist | next part

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"What do we know?" Steve asks, rubbing his chin.

"Y/N and Becca have been missing approximately 52 hours; their last known location was Central Park; there are no leads as to who took them; Y/N's phone connected to a cell tower in Munich, Germany 42 hours ago but we've still had zero contact," Tony reports, reading his notes from a tablet.

The same information Tony reports is posted on the screen behind him alongside your official Avenger's photo and a photo of Becca from her 4th birthday party. It makes Bucky sick to see his wife and daughter on the screen as if they're just victims the Avenger's need to save--but they are.

"It just doesn't make sense," Natasha says, pulling everyone's--Bucky, Steve, Wanda, Sam, Clint, and Tony's--eyes to her. "How come we can track her phone? If whoever took them have it, they would have disconnected it. If she has it, she could send a signal, a hint, something to give us a lead."

"Unless she's being watched," Clint points out, anxiously messing with a pen, twirling it through his fingers.

Sam nods in agreement. "Yeah, maybe they--they being who took the better Barnes'--don't know she has the phone and she's hiding it. As long as it's got juice and they don't know it, we've got a chance at finding her." Bucky smirks lightly at Sam's attempt at a joke to lighten the mood; you would've laughed.

"Or it could be a trap," Clint offers in rebuttal to Sam's hypothesis.

"Trap or not," Steve says, "we've got to follow a lead. The longer we wait, the less likely we find them."

Bucky stays silent, sitting alone in the corner of the room. Listening. Worrying. Trying to stay calm. He's exhausted; he hasn't slept since his girls went missing. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he scans the room, eyes falling on his friends working tirelessly to rescue his family before returning to the photos of you and Becca on the screen. He balls his hands into tight fists.

"Tony?" Wanda asks, taking a few frantic steps towards a far screen that displays your phone's tracker.

"I see it," Tony says, typing away on his tablet. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., status report?"

"The cellular device belonging to Agent Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes connected to a cell tower in Novosibirsk, Russia approximately 3 minutes ago. The device is holding at 8% battery life," the A.I. reports.

Bucky sits up straight, eyes narrowing on the red dot indicating his wife's location. He recognizes Novosibirsk as a major city in Siberia. His stomach turns as gears turn in his head. He feels eyes on him and he pulls his gaze away from your location to see Natasha staring at him, lips pulled into a tight frown; he realizes she's making the same realization he is. His gaze flicks to Steve who's staring at the ground, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration.

"I know where they are," Bucky says, closing his eyes, breathing in painfully slow in an attempt to ease his frantic heart rate.

"Well?" Tony asks indignantly. "Care to share with the class, Terminator?"

Bucky's left fist connects with the wall beside him, birthing an indentation of his hand in drywall. Clenching his jaw tightly, Bucky can't bring himself to form the words.

"The Siberian HYDRA facility," Natasha sighs. Her tone indicates she is nervous.

"Wait," Sam interrupts, "that's..." He trails off, eyes widening as he looks at a livid Bucky.

"The birthplace of the Winter Soldier Program," Steve confirms.

—

"Mommy?" Becca calls softly as her eyes flutter open.

"I'm right here, baby," you quickly confirm, swiping a few flyaways from the little girl's face. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," you assure.

You are unsure just how long you've been in the aircraft, but you know it's been a few days. You've not seen the outside of the hanger you found yourself in since you woke up inside of it. No one has brought food, or water, or even so much as spoken near enough to you to hear. You think you felt a touchdown and another take off somewhere along the way, though, and you're pretty sure you're actively feeling a descent.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Becca complains, pulling you from your thoughts.

"I know, baby, I know," you pull your daughter into your chest, soothingly running your fingers through her hair. You're trying so hard to keep Becca calm, but it's becoming more difficult the hungrier and filthier she gets.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's looking for us, sweet pea."

"How do you know?"

"Because," you pinch her cheek playfully, "your Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world, and he would never let anything happen to you. He'll find us."

Your response seems to appease her, but she doesn't have a chance to argue anyway as the plane touches ground with a jostling thunk and throws her off balance. You quickly reach out, steadying the girl.

"You okay, Becca?" You ask, hands holding her still as your eyes frantically run over her body. She nods.

About 30 minutes pass--you think--when the aircraft door finally opens. Behind the door are 3 tall, bulky men with rifles and 1 shorter, sleazy looking man who is clearly--somehow--in charge.

"Welcome! Welcome!" The mysterious man greets, clapping his hands together. You push bile down your throat as you stand as quickly as you can manage, pushing Rebecca behind you gently.

"Who the hell are you?" You ask with a grimace. "And where do you get off kidnapping innocent women and children?"

"Please, Mrs. Barnes and little Miss Barnes, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Igor Morozov, but you may call me Dr. Frost. I presume it may be easier for the little one," Morozov--Dr. Frost--introduces.

You take him in. He's small (perhaps 5'5 and skinny), and he does not exude power. His dark black hair is slicked back so much so that it appears greasy and hairsprayed directly to his scalp. His grin is unsettling, gummy and with a prominent gold capped tooth where one of his front teeth should be. He's wearing a military style jacket, pleated trousers, and dress shoes. You can hardly believe he is the man in charge; he looks like he's a man pretending he's in charge.

You say nothing, further stepping in front of your daughter to shield her from the men in front of you. Your hand grips her shoulder tighter than you think you've ever held her.

Morozov seems unfazed by your irritable and accusatory behavior, his sickening smile never leaving his face.

"It's such a pleasure to have the Asset's plaything and offspring in our midst!" He chuckles and it makes bile fill your mouth. You swallow it back down. "Welcome to HYDRA's Siberian Facility! You may recognize the place as a home of sorts; after all, the Winter Soldier was born here!" Morozov claps his hands together. Giddy.

You bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself. In most circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to fight your way out and towards freedom, but, in most cases, you're not holding yourself back for the safety of your 4 year old. Rebecca came first.

"What do you want with us?" You demand, but you're sure you'll be denied answers.

"All in good time, Mrs. Barnes. All in good time," Morozov assures, turning around and walking away. Your fingers twitch as you note you wish you could strike.

"Mrs. Barnes, do follow me, please," Morozov demands despite his polite formalities. "And I advise you keep the baby to your side. You never know where she may wander off to if you're not watching," he says ominously.

You clench your jaw as you scoop Becca into your arms. She clings to you, little arms surrounding your neck. The poor girl is terrified, and you know you have to pretend you're not, too. For her.

You follow after Morozov and pray your phone hasn't died yet.

Please, Buck. Find us.

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ko-fi

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Inferno

based off @whitehotwild's post

Pairing(s): Billy Butcher x Reader x Logan Howlett

Warnings: crossover, cheating?, situationships

If you weren't on your way to hell already, then this will surely send you straight down to the inferno.

They were similar in so many ways, Billy and Logan. Facial hair rubbing your thighs raw as he eats you out. Filthy words growled into your ear in that familiar gruff tone.

The only difference now is that it's Logan ramming his girthy cock into your tight hole, not Billy who had pissed you off once again. Stubborn asshole that he was. Really, you shouldn't be this upset with him. The dynamic of your relationship had never been discussed. You knew that he cared deeply for you. As much as he could with Becca still occupying his heart. And the sex was phenomenal. Both of you made a kick ass team too.

And maybe it was the anonymity of your situationship that caused both of you to frequently butt heads. Billy always insisted on doing everything his way. If not, it was the highway. Frenchie and MM seem to moderately tolerate this stubborn trait of his, but not you. You'd dealt with too many men with his attitude to let it slide.

You'd actually met Logan one night after finishing a job that Billy fucked up because it wasn't being done to his liking.

Slightly bruised (both physically and mentally), you'd traveled far away from the building that housed the Boys' office until you found a dive bar suitable for your need to get shit faced.

When you walked in you noticed him immediately. His muscles which had been flexing as he carefully holds the pool cue freeze as does the rest of him when his dark eyes land on you.

You knew you definitely had a type when you felt a whirl of butterflies take flight when he notices you. Smashing them down with a mental fist, you looked away and made a beeline to the bar where you made it your life's mission to get wasted.

The men in the bar saw this as an opportunity to try and get a quick lay. Ignoring them for the most part, you received two reactions: one, they take your rejection with a shrug and go about their night. Two, however, were the assholes who just couldn't take the hint that *gasp* you weren't into them!

"Fucking bitch, you think you're better than me?" An indignant asshole spits at you, his drink sloshing around in its container.

Alcohol fueling your rage, you slam your own glass down. A part of you was begging for a drunken brawl. Punch this cunt in the face like you wanted to do with Billy.

"Beat it bub."

The drunk jerk in front of you swirls around, about to cuss out whoever had just spoken to him until he comes face to. . . chest with a scowling Logan. He tries to summon courage. "M-Mind your business, asshole."

That only causes Logan's eyebrow to cock up. One step closer is all it took for the worm of a man to flee without so much as glancing back to you.

You finally relax and go back to your drink. "Thanks. What're you drinking? On me."

He stares at you before taking the barstool next to you before mumbling his drink. A simple glass of whiskey.

You didn't know he was a supe right off the bat. (Nor were you aware that at the same time, on the other side of the city, Billy was looking at a file that had Logan Howlett on the top of the page). Not until he took you back to his place and fucked the literal living daylights out of you. Manhandling you like you were nothing. You caught a glint of what looked like silver peeking out from between his knuckles when he pounds into you. It was no trick of the mind.

"Hey." He grunts and grabs at your face to turn your attention away from the hand that had been gripping the pillow that cushioned your hand. "Eyes on me." Each thrust seemingly possessive like he wanted to make an imprint of his cock inside of you. A token so that you would remember him by.

That was when you thought you would never see him again.

Somehow what was supposed to be a one night stand turned into a sleepover as you'd been too exhausted to return to the building that housed the rest of your friends. That's how effective fucking Logan had been. You hadn't thought of Billy once.

After that, the moment Butcher got on your nerves, you went running to Logan so that he could fuck you into oblivion once more. You couldn't help it. With Logan you could allow the inferno in you to explode and engulf him with it. He was strong enough to withstand your rage and fuck it out of you.

Maybe you were getting too close to him. In the middle of the night, you found yourself tracing the moonlit lines of his biceps, across scars that didn't have a discernible pattern. Even Logan began holding you closer to his sweating, heaving chest.

"This is new." Logan murmurs one night, his lips dragging over the healing scar on your shoulder blade.

"Got it from this supe I encountered. Weirdest power. His teeth grew and extended out of his mouth like a bunch of swords." You reply, snuggling against his meaty forearm. Neither of you spoke of your line of work. Why each of you would have new scrapes and bruises every time you'd meet up.

He'd just use the long bridge of his nose to nuzzle it and draw you closer to him.

Drawing you further into the inferno.

[folkloresthings]

BECCA!! Congrats on 1k, I love your writing and I’m glad so many other people do too <3

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Could you do Sebastian Vettel + pining/unrequited love but with a happy end? (Kind of à la Amy & Laurie in little women??)

AMY AND LAURIE CODED!!! spot the little women refs

SOMEDAY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: mention of v*mit

the light of sebastian’s presence had lit your life for as long as you could — or wanted to remember. young when you’d first met, you at nineteen and him twenty—four, donning his red bull gear and a world championship. the bar in which you had met wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the heart of valencia. you were travelling with friends, he was working his way towards his second championship.

it was easy to spot him across the bar, all blonde curls and dazzling eyes. a woman hung on his arm, whispering in his ear while a friend—of—a—friend introduced you both. he’d barely looked at you, probably to preoccupied with how the woman’s hands were wandering further south by the minute.

your best friend was more of a racing fan than you, and had coincidentally planned the route of your travels across europe to coincide with the grand prix schedule. the next time you saw him was in budapest, nursing the same drink he’d had in spain but arms bare of playthings for the night.

“vodka soda, please.”

“i remember you,” he had slurred, pointing aimlessly towards you as you spoke across to the barman. “valencia!”

you assumed his exclamation of the city was his connecting of the dots, so you sent him a nod and a small smile. “yeah, we both know joseph.”

“joseph, right,” sebastian mused, vague familiarity dancing across his features. “good guy.”

he looked just as handsome that night as he had in valencia, though slightly drunker. you had heard the tales of the good—looking german driver, your friend spent most of your train journeys across countries gushing about him and half a dozen other names you didn’t recognise.

“here, my treat,” sebastian quickly cut across you before you could pay, shoving a few euros into the barman’s hand. you didn’t bother arguing — he was a world famous formula one driver and you were a full time university student. he could afford a vodka soda better than you could.

“thank you, sebastian.”

“you’re welcome…” he trailed off, searching desperately in his memory for your name.

“y/n,” you offered, a grin tugging at your lips. you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed at his lack of attention, not when his eyes were shining up at you the way they were. he repeated it, your birthright sounding far nicer on his tongue than your own. he’d shaken your hand then, ordering an apology round of shots for his “shameful behaviour”.

a few hours later, you held his belongings as he vomited into an empty alleyway. the streets of budapest were practically deserted, town clock chiming three in the morning. sebastian’s challenge of shot after shot soon became a competition with only himself, ending up much drunker than yourself and with no one around to supervise his stupidity.

thankfully, tucked somewhere in his pocket, was the address of his hotel. you got him there, eventually, after a few stops to sit down or sebastian’s several attempts to climb a wall. you took him all the way to him room, getting him into bed and leaving a note and some painkillers by his side.

from then on, you were friends. even when you went back to university, he did all he could to fly you out to races and let you see a little more of the world. australia, japan, abu dhabi… you’d been there to see him win every world championship, to hug him and celebrate with one too many drinks afterwards. you were still always the one to tuck him in after.

the only problem was, amongst this wonderful friendship, you were completely and utterly in love with him.

he didn’t feel the same. you figured that out one night in monaco when he took you for dinner and snuck you down to the beach afterwards. you kissed him on the sand, naive and innocent, only twenty and unsure of what this would mean. he’d been kind about it, sweet as ever, letting you indulge yourself before letting you down slowly.

“maybe someday, when you’re older.”

his words played in your mind like a broken record every birthday from them on. would this be the year? you tried going out with other boys, but none of them compared to him. your sebastian. every year you got older, so did he, and soon you were twenty—six and him thirty—one.

in those years, you were glad for his wise, older words. they’d kept your friendship intact, giving you your person — the one you could talk to in good times and bad. no matter how painful your love for him was, never fading over time, you kept it all down for the sake of keeping him in your life.

“penny for your thoughts?” sebastian’s usual teasing tone pulls you from your thoughts, the montage of your relationship playing in your head. you glance up at him, forcing on a smile.

“sorry, zoned out for a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, smoothing down the skirt of your dress in the mirror. “how do i look? do i look alright?”

sebastian took a moment to let his eyes rake over your body. the dress was a pale blue colour, adorned with pale white flowers that floated about your ankles. he could only describe it as soft, a light summer dress that moved with the wind but hugged your lines perfectly. god, you were heavenly.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.” sebastian’s face had softened considerably, looking at you in a way that could almost be mistaken for love. you stare at him, yearning to decipher the thoughts in his head, but you come up empty.

inhaling some feeling back into your body, you move from his gaze. “i better go. robb will be waiting.”

robb. sebastian had been with you when you met. a grand event, drivers and socialites alike. sebastian had gone to get you both a drink when he returned to find the man flirting with you. you were smiling and laughing, your hand finding it’s place on the man’s arm. sebastian turned on his heel and left you to it, finishing both of your drinks in his stride.

since then, you had been to dinner with robb twice. he was charming, funny and sweet, knew just how to woo you. admittedly, you struggled to find the spark that people often spoke of, but you were willing to pass it up for a chance at some kind of romance. sebastian, however, found himself battling with this strange feeling in his stomach every time you spoke to him about robb.

he could feel it again now, watching you skip off to meet your date. twisting and tugging, nausea rising in his chest. it was a new feeling, and one that he hated having. it was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it — you had been his for so long, only his, and now you were slipping away.

“ — but it’s far too cold there to live all year…” chuckling at robb’s latest tale, you felt the words on your tongue fade as he appeared nearby. you had told sebastian where you and robb were going, a small jazz bar with expensive cocktails and live music. so why had he come?

“seb?”

he smiled, brows furrowing in faux confusion. “oh, hey you two. fancy seeing you here.”

if looks could kill, sebastian would be six feet under by now. your glare was cold, but missed completely by robb as he engaged in conversation with your friend. for the next thirty minutes, you didn’t say a word. you didn’t get a chance, with robb asking sebastian a million questions on racing and the latter gladly entertaining him.

“excuse me,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and pushing yourself from the chair. your date barely noticed, staring at a picture on sebastian’s phone. the blonde watched you go, snatching his device back and following you without a second thought.

“hey, y/n! wait!” he hurried after you down the street, struggling to keep up with your hurried pace. “y/n!”

his arm reached out to grab you, spinning you on your heel to face him. he knew with one look that you were mad, and he suddenly regretted every choice he’d made that evening. “what?”

“where are you going?” he asked, rather sheepish.

“i’m going home, sebastian,” your voice was sharp, cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. “my date seems pretty occupied with you in there, so i’m leaving.”

“no, wait…” he grappled desperately, grabbing at your wrist again to keep you there. his lips part, searching for an excuse, but nothing comes out.

“you knew i was coming here tonight! why would you show up when you knew?” seething, tears pricked at your eyes. you cursed yourself for the german making you such a mess. “i told you how excited i was and you purposely came to ruin it! why?”

sebastian sighed, silent. all of that jealously turned to hatred, for himself and his stupid, stupid heart. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him, waiting for more. needing more than just that.

“i’m sorry, i just — i hated seeing you so happy,” as soon as it was out, as soon as he saw your face twist, he knew it didn’t sound right. “no, shit. not like that. i wasn’t the one making you happy and it felt awful. i didn’t want to see you with anyone else. y/n… i’ve been such an idiot.”

the words sunk in as he tried to tangle his fingers in you, squeezing himself closer to you in the street. your head shook, backing away with every inch he moved closer.

“no, no. seb, don’t do this,” you muttered, ignoring his pleas for your forgiveness. you felt dizzy, all of this coming to soon. “seb, you’re being mean. stop it.”

with your voice sterner, he took a step back.

“i’ve waited for you for seven years. i waited and you never came, but the second i find somebody else you figure it out?” tongue laced with disbelief, you felt your feet stumble on the cobbles below. sebastian reached out to you, worry crossing his face. he felt terrible. he’d put you through so much and expected even more.

“i know,” sebastian whispered, daring to step closer again. you let him now, proving yourself weak to his affection once again. his hand finds your cheek, warming it from the night air, your head resting against his hold. “i’m a fool. i didn’t realise it before but i’ve been in love with you for so long. i don’t know when it happened, but it did. and there’s nothing i can do about it but beg you to forgive me.”

your eyes turn soft, melting into his confessional. everything you’d waited for and dreamed of, the words that haunted you for years of sleepless nights. it was happening and none of it felt real. seven years of wanting it, and now you were hesitant.

“will you forgive me?” sebastian pleads, thumbs rubbing gently at the flesh of your cheeks. his lips, ready for yours, but not until you are. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. i promise.”

you smile, because how can you not? when he’s looking at you like you’re the one who hung the moon and the stars — but he’s the sun. your sun, your light, your love.

“yes.” it’s a whisper when it finally comes, but he hears it. his own smile creeps up, squeezing you in delight.

“yes?” he repeats, waiting for you to confirm it again. you do, and he wastes no time in kissing you. not like that night on the beach, young and unsure, but full of love and certainty. because he loves you, with everything he is, and he needs to show you. all soft lips and daring tongues, arms winding around your waist to pull you flush to him.

he loves you and you love him. at the end of the day, or seven years, there’s nothing else that really matters.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [8] - Bells

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

Summary: Some decisions require late night visits.

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

Series Masterlist

You didn’t think the rest of the week would be peaceful in any way but even you couldn’t guess just how tense it would be.

“This is insane,” Becca pointed out, crossing her arms and leaning back on her seat. You had decided to meet up for brunch but this time, two other tables in the café were also reserved for your and Becca’s multiple bodyguards who were enjoying their coffees. You stole a look at them, then turned to Becca.

“You’re telling me,” you said. “Four bodyguards everywhere I go. It sounds absurd.”

“And this is Barnes territory!” Becca hissed. “I’ve never ever needed bodyguards in our territory, and all of a sudden...”

“How stressed out is everyone?” you asked and she shook her head with a sigh.

“I could barely see Bucky in these last couple of days,” she said. “My dad said I have nothing to worry about, but you know how he is. It’s kind of condescending, honestly.”

“And your mom?”

“She has this bright idea to send me off to vacation to Zürich until the dust settles here.”

You pulled your brows together. “Will you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I’m not leaving any of you here.”

You reached out to squeeze at her hand before grabbing your coffee to take a sip.

“How about you?”

“I think I will get the same speech tonight,” you said. “My dad wants to talk to me.”

“And?”

“I’ll make a counter offer.”

“To?”

“To help out,” you said. “With this situation. Besides, me leaving in a time like this would be basically handing Ian the heir position, and I’m not doing that.”

“Do you think your father will accept that offer though?”

“We’ll see,” you said, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a flip. “I’d be better than Ian than handling this, he has to see that.”

“Bucky says Ian isn’t even carrying a gun anymore,” Becca said with a small laugh and you tilted your head.

“What?”

“Yeah. Apparently he says no one can get to him with his men around him. I guess it’s his way of making them think he trusts them with his life.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right.”

“As much as I hate to admit, it looks like it’s working,” Becca admitted. “He looks pretty confident.”

“Confidence can lead to very huge mistakes,” you said and cleared your throat. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else. How’s everything with Leila?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you!” Becca said, snapping her fingers. “Do you think it’s still too early to ask her to marry me?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Becca, you two started dating less than a week ago.”

“Yeah but I could still ask her!”

“That’s the hopeless romantic in you speaking.”

“That’s the orgasms speaking actually,” she corrected you, making you grin.

“Either way, neither of those make you think logical.”

“Logical is overrated,” she pointed out. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“You and Ethan?”

“We’re not doing anything,” you said slowly. “I did hire some bodyguards for him though, just in case.”

“Maybe you should take the first step.”

“I’m not going to do that,” you said, shaking your head fervently and she hummed.

“Don’t tell me Bucky’s proposal affected you like that.”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, scrunching up your face. “Why would you say that?”

Becca rolled her eyes.

“Maybe because I’ve known you two my whole life?”

Your frown deepened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Please,” she said, shooting you a look. “All those glances and so much bickering, it’s obvious something is there—”

“Hate,” you cut her off. “Hate is what’s there.”

Becca gave you a mischievous smile, then sipped her coffee.

“Whatever you say.”

“Bucky and I could never work,” you insisted and Becca hummed.

“What about you and Ethan?”

“Ethan is—” you paused for a moment. “Dating him would be incredibly simple. You know, no ulterior motives, no strategies, nothing complex.”

“That would be so convincing if you could deal with simple more than just a couple of months.”

“You can,” you said and Becca waved a hand in the air.

“I was never promised the heir position,” she said. “It was always Bucky. That’s why I’ve never had that…that burning ambition both of you have. At the end of the day, I do want a simple life Y/N but you’ve never been that type. I don’t think you could actually be happy in a simple relationship.”

You clicked your tongue and leaned back in your chair.

“Well then that complicates things,” you said. “I don’t think I would be happy with someone in the business either.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding?” you said with a laugh. “Come on, you know how spouses are treated in the business. You’re just—you’re there as the arm candy, they never let you get involved—”

“That’s the generation before us.”

“Did Bucky put you up to this?” you asked and she huffed out a laugh.

“I didn’t say you should marry my brother,” she pointed out. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t force yourself to like a simple life if you want more than that. Especially if you’re basing your decision on some ancient bullshit rule our families decided to follow.”

You heaved a sigh and took a sip of your coffee.

“Didn’t you just say logical is overrated?” you asked. “Since when are you so logical?”

“I have my moments,” Becca grinned at you. “So. Can we talk about my love life now?”

“Yes but you can’t ask her to marry you.”

“I can ask her to be my fiancée,” Becca stated and you tilted your head.

“That’s…that’s basically the same, Becca.”

Becca rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Fine!” she said. “Can I at least ask her if we should move in together?”

You bit back a smile.

“I’ll give you my permission for that once you two reach the third month.”

“Oh we will,” Becca said with a bright smile. “Great. I’ll send you the house warming party gift list when I get home then.”

                                               *

 You had assumed your father would see you and gave you the same speech Becca got from her parents at home, but apparently he was swamped with work so he had asked you to come to the company. When you got there, your father’s assistant told you he was in the middle of a meeting with Ian and Stark, so you took a seat in the waiting area and stole a look at Ryan who was no doubt waiting for Ian.

“Hi Ryan.”

“Ma’am,” he greeted you, his tone rough but respectful. You smiled at him, crossing your arms.

“Waiting for my cousin?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” you asked and he paused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Why are you working for him?” you asked. “He’s an asshole.”

Ryan didn’t even dignify that with an answer as he looked at you, his expression completely calm like he was very used to not giving answers.

 “Riveting conversation as always,” you teased him and he bit back a small smile.

“I respect your family, ma’am.”

“I mean you don’t really have to respect Ian though, God knows he does nothing to earn that,” you pointed out. “You know he’s looking forward to starting a war, right?”

“He’s ready to see you,” the assistant said before Ryan could answer you, and you nodded your head, then stood up from the couch.

“Have a nice evening Ryan.”

“You too ma’am,” he said and you followed the assistant to your father’s office.

“Y/N sweetheart, hello,” he said as he walked to you to press a kiss on your cheek. “Sit down, sit down!”

“How was your meeting?” you asked and he waved a hand in the air.

“The usual,” he said. “I have four other meetings after this.”

“Daddy—”

“I will rest when I get home, I promise,” he said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s just that I don’t know when they will be finished, and I figured you’d be asleep by the time I got home,” he said. “Y/N listen—”

“Don’t bother giving me that speech, I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off and he frowned.

“How did you…?”

“Winnifred gave the same speech to Becca. She tried to send her to Zürich, where are you trying to send me?”

“Wherever you want,” your father said. “I was thinking Florence but…”

“Florence is a gorgeous city,” you said. “I’d love to see it sometime, maybe next Christmas.”

“Y/N.”

You gave him a small grin. “Hm?”

“It’s going to be safer for you if you just go away from the city for a while.”

“While you and Ian handle things?”

“While I handle things.”

“But Ian stays?” you insisted and he ran a hand over his face.

“Yes, but—”

“I’m not going,” you said, your voice firm. “Send him away if you want, but I’m not leaving the city when there’s a war coming.”

“I feel like you need to think about this,” your father said and you shook your head.

“I did think about it.”

“Y/N, I will feel much better if I know you’re away from danger, at least until the dust settles here.”

You sat up straighter, your heart pacing in your chest.

“Dad I can help,” you said. “With all this. You know I can.”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“No we haven’t,” you insisted. “Not really. We keep ignoring it, ignoring the fact that you haven’t named a successor—”

“That’s because I’m not planning on retiring soon.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Others might believe that lie, but I do not.”

Your father heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off of his seat to come closer to you, then leaned back to his desk, crossing his arms.

“And please tell me, what is it that you want to hear from me right now?” he asked you and you shook your head.

“Don’t patronize me,” you said through your teeth. “You know what I’m capable of, you trained me for times like these. You know I’d make a much better heir than Ian—”

“Y/N, enough.”

“Just give me a chance to prove myself,” you insisted. “That’s all I’m asking. You don’t have to make me the head of all operations, but give me a chance to show you I can do this. I’ve already prepared a plan—”

“Let me stop you right there,” he said. “What you’re suggesting is absolutely out of question.”

Your jaw clenched. “Why?”

“We already have a plan.”

“Okay,” you let out an impatient breath. “Then you can tell me the plan and I’ll help.”

“No need, we have everything covered.”

You could feel the anger bubbling in your stomach but you dug your fingernails into your palm, reminding yourself to stay calm.

“Dad,” you said slowly. “You promised me.”

“And I promised your mother!” he snapped, making you stop talking. “I promised your mother that I would keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The bridge of your nose along with the back of your eyes started burning, a sure sign that the tears were on their way but you blinked fast a couple of times, biting at your tongue.

“That was your mother’s dying wish,” he said, looking you in the eye. “I’m not going to break my promise to her.”

You swallowed thickly. “Mom would want me to be happy.”

 “And you think this life would make you happy?” he asked you. “All this bloodshed, this violence?”

“I was born into bloodshed and violence,” you reminded him. “I’ve spent all my life in it. What, you think you can keep me safe by pushing me out of the picture?”

“It’s much safer than being in the middle of it.”

“For now,” you pointed out. “What about the future? I already know three families that will refuse to do business with Ian.”

Your father shrugged his shoulders. “It’s too early to worry about that. I’m not retiring anytime soon.”

“Dad, he wants to start a war.”

“He will see that war isn’t good for business,” he brushed you off. “He’s just very eager to prove himself right now, that’s all. He’s not going to start a war, don’t worry.”

You gritted your teeth and pursed your lips, glaring at him.

“You got your fire from me, your mother was much calmer,” he said with a small smile. “So I swear to you, I understand your frustration and anger very well. The crown you think you want right now? It’s way too dangerous sweetheart. You’ll see it in time that I’m making the right choice.”

The tears blurred your sight for a moment before you blinked them away and wetted your lips, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“You’re not going to name me as your successor, are you?” you rasped out. “Nor will you let me prove myself.”

Your father held your gaze in his for a second, then shook his head.

“No.”

The disappointment hit you so hard that it made your head spin. This wasn’t news to you in any way, you had spent years watching your father treat Ian like his successor but actually hearing it from him was enough to make you want to scream. Anger rushed through you, boiling your blood and you bit your tongue hard enough to hurt, and nodded slowly.

“Okay,” you heard yourself say as you stood up, not even looking him in the eye and he took a deep breath.

“Honey…” he started but you walked out of his office without sparing him a glance, your whole body moving as if it was on autopilot. You got to the elevator and pressed the button, then stepped inside and watched the doors close, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes.

Very well then.

If your father didn’t want to give you power, you were going to take it for yourself.

                                               *

The address wasn’t exactly familiar to you seeing that you hadn’t been there before, but your driver knew the way. When you walked into the building and gave the reception your name, it took them less than a minute to guide you to the elevator, everyone around you rushing like they were instructed not to make you wait even for a second. When the elevator stopped at the top floor, a bodyguard led you to the door of the penthouse to knock on the door and you heard the footsteps coming closer before the door opened.

It looked like Bucky had dashed through the apartment to put his jeans on when they told him you were there, seeing that he was breathing quite fast. You let yourself run your gaze over his bare muscular torso, the tattoos over his chest catching your attention before your eyes snapped up to his, your heart skipping a beat.

God damn it, you almost forgot just how handsome he was.

“Charm,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hey there,” you said as you walked past him into the penthouse before he could invite you inside and he closed the door behind you.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said while you glanced around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath and turned around to look at him better, your heart beating in your ears.

“Get rid of whoever is in your bedroom,” you said and shot him a sarcastic smile as you crossed your arms. “We need to talk about the wedding.”

Chapter 9

[quote-tournament]

David Cronenberg, Consumed | Yves Olade, Beloved | I can't find the source for the 3rd one does anybody know ? | Françoise Sagan, Bonjour tristesse | Becca de la Rosa and Mabel Martin, Mabel podcast ep28 | Clementine Von Radics | Roxane Gay, Strange gods | Micah Nemerever, those violent delights | Henry Miller, letter to Anaïs Nin

Thank you @nailgunstigmata for sending me these! I am delighted