#watch out for blond french men

[biblicalhorror]

Thinking about one of the loser men I dated directly post-college who, after I showed them Dirty Computer [the emotion picture] by Janelle Monae, said they "prefer rap that has something to say"

[fanaticsnail]

Seat Number Four

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 4,500+

Synopsis: You are stuck on an eight hour flight between two gentlemen you have never met before. Unaware of their prior history and dislike for one another, you attempt to relax and watch a new series your friend recommended. The series was a little more raunchy than you had anticipated, and you become a little uncomfortable in your seat between the two attractive men. Doflamingo reassures you your need is nothing to be ashamed of, and he would be more than willing to help you out if you allowed him to teach the younger blonde how to best please you.

Warnings: Doflamingo x cisfem!reader x Sanji, gendered terms used, Vinsmoke name used, modern au, NSFW, smut, MDNI, 18+, threesome, public sex, fingering, finger sucking, penetration, oral, (dub con masturbation by a guest appearance), Spanish Doflamingo, French Sanji, not very much plot, praise (reader receiving), degradation (Sanji receiving), bisexuality hinted (subtle Sanji x Doffy), Dom Doffy, Sub Sanji, switch reader, voyeurism.

Notes: based on this post by @/shamblespirate (I don't know if they'd like to read this or not, so I thought I'd spare them the debauchery) and the encouragement of @physics-of-one-piece. Sitting between Doffy and Sanji, two unhinged blondes on an 8 hour flight? What could go wrong?

Stumbling through the boarding gates and checking your luggage at the last minute should've been the sign that this eight hour flight was not going to go the way you expected.

This simple trip you needed to take for work was booked at the worst time. The only warning you received from your boss was a quick email stating the fact that you needed to pack your bags to attend a week long conference. No further context, no meetings, no chance for rebuttal, and simply no time.

What made matters worse is the fact that you were meant to be situated on the window seat of the last row of the plane. Closest to the bathroom, furthest from the food, and caged by the bodies of two complete strangers.

However, these strangers seemed to know each other, both sitting in pregnant silence as steam seemed to rise from the younger blonde’s ears in simmering rage. That same younger blonde, who seemed to take your absence from the final call for boarding as your consent, to sit in your assigned seat.

Not one to cause a fuss, you stored your carry on above the taller, tanned blonde in the aisle. His glasses did very little to conceal the heavy eye contact he made with your breasts as you had no choice but to bury him in the chasms of your chest as you stuffed your bag above him.

The first few hours of your early afternoon flight was filled with tension. While the taller man seemed to antagonize the younger blonde in Spanish, the younger would curse at him in French beneath his breath.

Blocking them both out with your headphones, you opened your traveling laptop as soon as the signs indicated it was safe to do so, and listened to music while finishing off your final projects for your boss. Each time you made to adjust your arms more comfortably, you would inadvertently brush your body against either of the two men. Uttering your apologies beneath your breath each time, you were not made privy to the conversation that was being made regarding your persons.

“She looks rather pent up, rubio. Do you think she'd appreciate my fingers stuffing her pretty cunt full-?” the snickers of Doflamingo were cut short by the younger blonde.

“-That is no way to treat a lady!” the hushed tone flew through the air like a kick to the chin, only seeming to draw up the older blonde’s smile wider. Looming over your shoulder as you commenced the beginning of a series, Doflamingo looked through the base of his glasses at you before looking over the rim at Sanji.

“You were the one to take her seat, mi pequeño. How’s that for treating a lady?” Sanji glared at him, offering no retort for the theft of your seat. It's true, he stole it from you the moment he noticed the close proximity to the Don of Quixote. Being an heir to the Vinsmoke dukedom had them both in similar social circles, and each time they met, Doflamingo would tease and torment him regarding his obsession with serving women.

Treating women with respect was a foreign concept for the other heirs, and Doflamingo seemed to enjoy tormenting him about it. In actuality, he admired that in him. Doflamingo loved his mother, and he often thought of her fondly. Sanji made those soirees entertaining and bearable, and Doflamingo wanted to return the favor.

“I think this lady would allow us both to treat her, if you catch my meaning,” Doflamingo chuckled, prompting Sanji to snap his head over at him. Before the younger could speak, Doflamingo halted him with an observation, “The series she seems to be watching has had a fair amount of love scenes and nudity. I don't think she was anticipating that in this series. Just look at her, sitting there all flustered.”

Slowly shifting his eyes over your form in a manner to not startle you, he noticed how flustered your face was. Eyes wide, heat radiating from your face, and slinking your body down into the seat, surely enough, you were fully fixed on the series. Although the screen was darkened, Sanji could clearly make out the shapes of two men and a woman indulging in intimacy on the screen.

Your breathing seemed to both slow and quicken with the elevation of your heartbeat, prompting Sanji’s eyes to darken on your blissfully ignorant form. Doflamingo's grin widened as he gained Sanji’s attention back onto him.

“Once the rest of the aircraft vessel falls asleep, I would love to teach you how to really treat a lady, Vinsmoke,” Doflamingo intentionally brushed his chest against your shoulder as he learnt closer to Sanji, “If she's willing, of course.” Hastily darting his eyes down to you and back up to Doflamingo, Sanji reluctantly gave his nod of understanding.

“Only if she's willing. I don't want to make her uncomfortable,” he uttered strictly. Noticing the soft shudder in your form as Doflamingo held himself against you, Sanji felt this wave of protection swirl in the pit of his stomach. As soon as he made to make a move to rally to your defense, you made yourself comfortable in the shroud of Doflamingo’s embrace.

“I think she'll be more than willing,” Doflamingo eyes you dangerously before reaching down to unplug your headphones from your ear. Snapping your head over to him, he hushed you with his voice dripping in smarmy sweetness.

“Easy now, mi querida,” he smiled genuinely, “The dining cart will be by shortly. Just making sure you didn't miss out on a choice.”

“Oh!” You smiled at him reaching down to the bags you stored beneath the seat for your wallet. “Thank you, mister…?”

“Doflamingo,” he gave you a polite nod of his head while closing his eyes at you. Gesturing with his chin, he drew your attention to the younger blonde, “The Frenchy is Sanji.” You turn your smile to the younger one, noticing his fluster seemed to grow and litter his cheeks in a soft blush.

“We couldn't help but notice the series you were watching,” Doflamingo continued, his fingers hooked beneath your chin and turning you to face his much taller body, “And I thought you should know, we're both very interested in seeing how it plays out. Care to remove the headphones from the port so we can hear too?”

“Oh, uh-...” a wave of bashfulness overcomes you at the knowledge that they were both witnessing a particularly graphic depiction of love making over your shoulder, “...a friend recommended the series. I didn't know what to expect, and they absolutely didn't warn me about the content.” Both Doflamingo and Sanji chuckled at you in their own ways, enjoying your company and getting a better read on your character.

“I don't think either of us mind a bit of graphic content in with our plot, do we pequeño,” Doflamingo asked Sanji, his smile quirking up at the corner, “You could use a few pointers on how to please a woman anyhow.”

“Speak for yourself, le vieillard,” Sanji retorted at him in a hastened quip, “I know how to please a woman just fine.” You shook your head and chuckled at the way they balanced one another. As the dining cart approached, Doflamingo placed his order and offered to pay for both yours and Sanji’s in synchrony. Both of you expressed your gratitude, enjoying being treated by the older man.

As the night wore on, your meals lay firstly improved by the younger blonde before consumed. You learnt they were both in high social circles, the younger had aspirations of becoming a chef as depicted in his satchel of spices. The older gentleman was from a reputable family that sold their fortune off to investors without his consent. He had to claw his way back up to the top, leading to an empire he molded for himself.

While they truly should've been in first or business class, both of them seemed to find entertainment in regular seating. You were grateful for their attention and company, and enjoyed being doted and treated by two blonde men who were eager to please in their own ways.

Once under the cover of nightfall, the meal trays left collected and napkins discarded, and the raunchy series had finished, you all spoke in hushed tones and gossiped about the characters. Talks of: “She deserved to find happiness,” or, “The way they filmed that was exceptional. Tasteful nudity with a hint of wanting. Simply beautiful,” and “She could've had both men if she played her cards right.”

Doflamingo’s larger form swooped ever closer, the shroud of his pink, feathered cloak caging your body in your seat as he leant in closer. Asking permission with his eyes, you nodded your head as you felt him press his lips against yours. Tongues darting out, Doflamingo reached forward and grasped at Sanji, tugging his wrists and placing them on your thighs first. Guiding Sanji's chin up to your neck, you felt the younger man latch and lick at your pulse as Doflamingo stole your breath from your lungs with his kiss.

Tilting your chin with his hand, Doflamingo made a trail with his digits down your neck and through the hem of your shirt to grip at your breast. Noseying through the material of your bra, he began softly rolling and lightly pinching your nipples beneath the cups. Consuming your soft gasps needily, he guided one of Sanji's hands to reach beneath your shirt to cup at your other breast.

Hands, lips, tongues and teeth overwhelmed you. Everything was too little and too much all at once. You felt your arousal soak through your panties as both men toyed at your thighs and hemline to your stomach. Simply no longer caring about professionalism and giving into their touch, you allowed them to push aside the material and undo your pants.

Breaking away from the kiss, Doflamingo’s hands brushed over your mound and down to toy at your glistening folds. A gasp was strangled in your throat as you attempted to stifle it. The heavy snores and breathing from the seats in front and beside you indicated you didn't disturb anyone of their slumber, but you didn't want to take the risk of being too loud.

Lowering himself down into your ear Doflamingo purred at you, “I am going to teach Sanji how to please you. I am going to have you cum on my fingers a few times before I let him try.” You gulped back a mouthful of nervous saliva as Sanji shot his attention between you both, “Is that okay with you, mi amor?” You couldn't pull your eyes away from the older man, nodding almost dumbly as if hypnotized by the promise of the pleasure to cum. Chuckling, Doflamingo presses a kiss to your jaw before licking a stripe up to your ear possessively.

“If you can't help yourself from moaning, I'll have Sanji stuff your mouth full of his fingers for you to suck on. Do you want them straight away, or do you want to wait?” He offered you Sanji’s hand raised to your lips, pressing the pads of his digits at your lips just as he sank his own further down to tease at your arousal. Whimpering, you immediately took Sanji’s fingertips in your mouth and swirled your tongue around them.

Sanji gasped, his own moans choking in his throat as he became caught up in the moment. Doflamingo shoots him a warning look, growling out a low order at him.

“And if you can't help but moan at the feeling,” Doflamingo gestured with his chin to your breasts, “Make your mouth useful and flick that silver tongue over her nipples. Let her feel that frenulum piercing you think your daddy hasn't noticed.” Sanji’s eyes went wide, the tension once again rising between them.

“I am not calling you daddy, le vieillard,” Sanji barked in a harsh whisper, prompting Doflamingo to chuckle as he began toying with the border and hood of your clit with his middle and unity fingers.

“I was referring to your biological father, niño. However,” he leans over your shoulder and scrunched his nose at the younger man playfully, “If the mood arises, I prefer ‘Papi’.” Tugging your body flush against his chest, hidden by the shroud of his cloak and broad shoulders, Doflamingo snaked his hand around your waist after drawing up the armrest between the seats.

Sanji pushed up your shirt, physically unable to contain the moan that flew from his lips the moment he noticed the ripple of your breasts bouncing free beneath the fabric. Immediately surging forward, Sanji latched onto your left nipple, swirling and mouthing at your puckered nipple and romancing it with his kisses. Doflamingo chuckled as you offered the same enthusiasm mirrored back to him.

Without further warning, Doflamingo prodded and pressed at your entrance with his fingers, curling and grinding them against your glistening arousal and collecting your slick over his fingers. Stifling your pretty mewls on Sanji’s fingers, Doflamingo curled his digits in you, using the pad of his thumb to roll against your clit as he began beckoning his hooked fingers slowly. Stimulating your clit and your g-spot with his hand, he leaned down to be in earshot of both you and Sanji.

“Look at you both. Both my sweet little ones are doing so well,” Doflamingo purred lightly, “Is mi reina sucking your fingers good, mi príncipe? Is she using her tongue like a good little reina, hm?” You bit back your moan, opening your mouth and demonstrating to Doflamingo how your tongue swirls and grinds against Sanji’s fingers. Sanji couldn't help himself, Stradling your thighs as you were tucked in Doflamingo's lap. Slowly rolling his hips against you, you felt how hard the young blonde was as he bucked his clothed cock into your thigh.

Chuckling, Doflamingo doubled down on his efforts to make you squirm. Holding you flush against his chest, he continued coaxing out soft mewls muffled by Sanji’s fingers in your mouth.

“Stop your petulant rocking, Vinsmoke,” Doflamingo whispered his soft tease down at the younger blonde, “This was about pleasing her. You think she wants your precum soaking her pretty thighs through your pants? How's that pleasing her?” Sanji gasped, the cool intake of air causing your body to tremble at the harsh cold. Switching to the other breast, Sanji whimpers against you as he attempts his hardest to not rock his steely cock on your legs. His eyes dart down to where Doflamingo’s larger hands pry open your walls and scissor his fingers in your pussy with expert precision. Doflamingo leans down and nudges Sanji’s fingers away with his forehead before swallowing your moans with his lips covering your own.

Hastening the pace of his fingers and thumb, perfectly coaxing and beckoning your orgasm from you, your body explodes in the quickened lightning of your ecstacy. It felt almost out of the blue, unprompted but not at all unwelcome. The scream from your throat was captured and muffled by Doflamingo’s lips as he chuckled into your mouth. Unintentionally bucking your hips up into his hand, Sanji whimpered as your thigh brushed with his cock. The vibration of his moan shot through your nipple and down to pool more of your glistening arousal over Doflamingo’s palm.

“My, my. That was a big one, mi amor. Is there another? Another one for me?” he uttered against your lips, prompting you to shake your head hastily to not have him stimulate you further. He clicked his tongue in a curt ‘tsk,’ before removing his hand from your pussy. Your walls contracted in the final pulses of your bliss in a bid to keep his digits within you as he pulled out.

“Aw, but she wants more,” Doflamingo purred at you, referring to your cunt twitching and throbbing after coming down from your orgasm. Sanji couldn't help himself, he hastily pushed Doflamingo’s face away from yours with his chin before meeting his lips with your own. He greedily dominated your lips, his desperation coming out in soft pants and barely audible whispers.

“Please. Please, I need you. Please?” Sanji attempted to relay, not entirely certain as to what he was asking. All he knew is that he wanted it, and the ‘it’ in question was ‘you’. Peeling back the button of his pants, the rosy tip of his pretty flushed cock immediately sprung forth. You had never seen such a beautiful cock before: all shiny and throbbing with need, the pearls of precum coating the small slit over the blunt tip. The slender shaft had several veins prompting the swell in desire, your own immediately rising just by his need alone.

He did not set out a plan in motion to fuck you in front of Doflamingo, but he was too far gone to not clothe his cock in the heat of your cunt after witnessing how truly beautiful you looked while keening in bliss. Doflamingo moved to chastise the younger boy, only halting as he witnessed you push your pants over your hips and down to your knees. Rolling onto your stomach to face your enshrouded breasts to Doflamingo, you arched your back and whispered to Sanji.

“Let me sit in your lap like this, sweety?” you moved your ass to sit with your back facing Sanji’s chest. His cock found its home between your legs, the tip brushing with your clit as he rocked into your firmly shut thighs. Each soft drag of his cock prompted him to sign out little gasps of pleasure. Doflamingo arched his brow as he witnessed you huff on Sanji’s lap as a wave of fresh desire swelled within you. Displeasure and unamusement grew over his face the longer you paid attention to the younger blonde.

Turning back your attention to Doflamingo, you motioned with your arms for him to come closer to you. Doing as you asked you reached up and gripped the open collar of his shirt and tug him into you. Lips finding his once more, your tongue sought out his own to perform against it in a sultry dance. Grinding the muscle over his own, you lifted your hips and lined up your slit with Sanji's knob. Just as you were sinking yourself down onto him, you halted your motion and tore your lips away from Doflamingo's.

“Can I suck your cock?” you asked the larger man, “It'll keep me quiet, I promise. Please? I want to please you too. Let me, Mister Doflamingo?” Doflamingo could barely contain the shudder that ran through his spine. With the soft quiver of his jaw, he gulped emphatically before popping open the front of his leather pants.

“And how is that going to keep the one you're sitting on quiet? Or me, for that matter?” he asked you with his brow quirked up. You aided him in releasing his cock from the confines of his pants by fishing it out with your hands. Taking the velvety shaft into your hands, your eyes bulged as you witnessed the sheer size of him. He was a lot larger than you in both height, and the girth of his cock. You were ever grateful that you opted to fuck the younger man as opposed to the giant in front of you.

Circling your hand at the base and peeling back his foreskin, you whispered up at him, “You're smart, I'm sure you'll think of something.”

Doflamingo physically gasped the moment he felt your breath hover over his cock, briefly meeting his eyes over Sanji as you sank your pussy and your mouth over both of them in unison. Sanji’s gaze was focussed on your ass as it rippled in gentle rocks down onto his shaft, while Doflamingo focussed his eyes on Sanji while trying not to give away how truly unraveled he was becoming by your lips.

Pressing soft, kitten licks over his blushing tip, you cleaned away Doflamingo’s first dews of pearlescent precum before swirling your tongue over the sensitive surface. Doflamingo choked on a soft gasp, snapping out of his hypnosis to clap his hand over Sanji's lips as he bottomed out into your gummy walls. The younger blonde couldn't help but moan, the larger hand stifling the majority of it to silence him with a frown.

“Listen, Vinsmoke. I know she feels-... f-fuck…” Doflamingo started, halting as he felt you take more of him into your lips. “...Fuck, mi amor, you take me so well,” he whispered his praise down at you before turning back his attention to Sanji, “You need to keep quiet. Need I remind you, Trafalgar and Eustass are sleeping in front of you? You want to wake them up by whining like a stag in rutt?”

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Sanji snapped his eyes over at Doflamingo, glaring up at him through his lengthy blonde eyelashes. Instead of biting back or insulting the larger blonde, Sanji couldn't help but roll his eyes in his skull as you began to bob on his cock. Simply unable to control his moans, Doflamingo shook his head at Sanji before huffing out in agitation while plunging his middle and index fingers into the younger blonde's mouth.

An accusatory glare first flew from Sanji to Doflamingo before Sanji used the older man’s fingers as a gag to muffle his whimpers into it. Gently bobbing your ass up and down over Sanji’s lap, the Frenchman's hands grabbed needily at your hips and ass as he bucked up to match your quickened pace. With fistfuls of your ass clutched into his greedy hands, Sanji bounced you with eager and desperate thrusts as he began to chase his high with you on his lap.

Doflamingo arched his brow high at the young Vinsmoke boy, noticing how well he was licking and sucking around his fingers before his attention immediately snapped down to you. Circling your hand at the base of his cock, your fingers expertly began to massage his heavy balls while gently bobbing and sucking his large cock. Flattening your tongue over his frenulum, your saliva pooled from your lips and began to drip down onto his shaft and the chasm between his balls. Using the added lubrication, you kneaded and fisted at the length you couldn't take in your mouth, while drawing up your lips over his cock.

Meeting your eyes with Doflamingo's, you smiled at him while removing your mouth from his cock and using your tongue to rake over him. Doflamingo’s breath shuddered, his nipples hardening beneath the open shirt as he shielded as much of himself as he could from the slumbering Nico Robin and the flight attendants.

“Oh, fuck. Look at you making me blush. Just like that, senorita,” he reached down with his unoccupied hand and cradled and caressed your cheek. Guiding your lips back down to cover his tip and swallow his cock, he began slowly rocking his hips up to meet your pace.

Sanji's thrusts were getting erratic, his rapidly approaching orgasm bound it's way tightly in his stomach. He could barely take the amount of pleasure coursing through his veins. The added suspense of getting caught had his nerves shot and heart skittish, but the sound of your drooling cunt taking his cock so well drowned out any hindrances. He snapped his eyes open, looking panicked at Doflamingo as he felt his balls suck into his stomach, the pucker of his ass warning him that he was nearly past the point of pulling out.

Doflamingo arched his brow at the young man, slowly leaning down to you and whispering, “I think Sanji wants to cum, pretty thing. Can he cum in that beautiful pussy of yours?” Making eye contact with Doflamingo, you nodded while speeding up your bobbing and sucking over the larger man’s throbbing hardness. Giving you a soft wink, Doflamingo sighed out to Sanji.

“If you need to cum, cum, pequeño. But you make sure she does too, you hear me?” Doflamingo pressed his fingers down on Sanji’s tongue to serve as a soft punishment and warning, Sanji gagging over his fingers while chasing his high faster. Nodding, Sanji reached one of his hands down to find your clit and began teasing it with his middle finger. With the added hooking motion of Sanji’s beckoning fingers, you felt yourself whimper on Doflamingo’s cock as he zeroed in on your pleasure.

Gripping the back of your neck, Doflamingo began rocking himself more firmly into your mouth and feeling his own approach tease at the corner of his mind. Soft gasps fell from his lips when he felt you focus more on his cock rather than Sanji's, the blonde behind you using his hands to both lift you and tease at your clit while he fucked you on his lap.

A strangled groan muffled itself onto Doflamingo's hands while Sanji's ecstacy spurted from his cock in pretty ribbons of translucent white. Painting your insides the pearlescent color of his bliss, Sanji bit on Doflamingo’s hand to stifle more of his keening moans. Doflamingo hissed at the pain before his jaw fell slack, eyes rolling back and whispering curses in Spanish under his breath. Without warning, his cum spilled itself in hot waves over your tongue and down your throat. Swallowing through hollowed cheeks, you took his entire release down your throat, which caused Doflamingo to double down in softly singing to your praises.

At the arrival of both of the blonde men’s cum, your walls contracted and milked Sanji's cock of the final waves of his bliss. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave made to capsize a ship, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you buried your throat beneath the girth of Doflamingo’s cock to stifle your cries of pleasure. Doflamingo rode your face through overstimulation, grinding his fingers in and out of Sanji’s mouth while Sanji’s eyes weeped through the intensity of his ecstasy.

“G-Good, mi amor. So good, look at you. F-Fuck, just like that, senorita,” Doflamingo praised you beneath his breath. “F-Fuck, you're such a pretty fuck. So beautiful, baby.” You continued to ride through the waves of your orgasm as Sanji spat Doflamingo's fingers from his mouth to double over and slump over onto your back.

Tilting his head to the side and gazing from the corner of his eyes at the seat in front of him, a shift in movement caught his immediate attention. The rise and fall of an arm over their front, a soft bitten back moan clenched and stifled by the clamp of their teeth, the redheaded Eustass Kid couldn't help but spill his own orgasm into a pre-opened tissue in hot spurts at the knowledge of what was happening behind him.

Only glimpsing over for a moment, and seeing Doflamingo's hand dip beneath the waistband of your pants, was all Captain Kid needed to see before his own hand began to fish out his cock in front of the sleeping Trafalgar Law. Setting up a mirror to witness the situation behind him was easy enough, and rocking his hips to the rhythm you set fucking Sanji was enough to have his eyes darken and jaw shudder. Leaning forward after Kid scrunched up the paper, Doflamingo tapped at his shoulder to bring his attention around.

“Got any spare tissue paper, red head?” Eustass Kid froze in his seat, “I don't particularly want to wake the attendants, and it's the least you could do for enjoying the show.”

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 4

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: it’s my birthday, so let’s celebrate with their date 🤭

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

part 3

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, catching the man's attention before he gets back into the SUV. He raises an eyebrow, you smirk. "Tell James he better damn well bring flowers."

—

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out your blouse. You turn to the side to see the back of your outfit and straighten back out again.

“You’re wearing pants to a fancy date with a crime lord?” Ellie asks, judgement lacing her question. You turn and raise an eyebrow at her, crossing the room to find the loafers you planned to wear.

“Yeah. Problem?” You ask, not really caring about Ellie’s opinion of your date attire. After all, it’s really more of a business transaction than a date.

“Yes! He’s probably expecting a dress, heels! Something low cut! You’re supposed to look sexy! You,” she pauses, gesturing to your body with an exasperated hand motion, “look like a JCPenney commercial.”

You scoff, a smirk teasing your lips. “Ellie, I don’t care. First of all, I can run a hell of a lot easier in loafers than heels, in slacks than a dress. Second of all,” you pick up your handgun where it lie on your dresser and check the safety, “I can’t hide this as easily in a dress.” Once you’re satisfied the safety is on, you tuck the gun away in the back of your pants, pulling your blouse back down over it. You look in the mirror again and fiddle with the tucking.

“Should I French tuck this?”

“Yes,” Ellie says distractedly before continuing. “But, Y/N, this guy is dangerous. You should play it safe. It’s just a date, so be who he obviously wants you to be.”

You sigh, turning back around to look your sister in the eyes.

“Ellie,” you say, tone dead serious. “Why are you so afraid of him? What did he do to you?”

Ellie blanches and doesn’t say anything. You sigh again turning back around to the mirror to fiddle with your hair, making sure it’s out of your face.

“I never saw him,” Ellie says suddenly. You watch her through the mirror where she sits on your bed staring at her hands. “I never saw him,” she starts again, “but I don’t think I was important enough for him to spare me his attention.

“I was at home making dinner when his men came for me. There was knock on the door, and when I answered, they stuck a bag over my head. Next thing I knew, I was in a dank, small room. There was a mattress on the floor for me to sleep, a toilet. Nothing else. I was there for maybe two days before someone came for me. I was taken to a conference room. There was a man there. I forget his name, but he was tall. Blond. He asked if I knew why I was there, I said I did, and he asked if I had any way to repay what I owed.”

“What did you owe?”

“750,000 dollars.”

“Ellie! How do you—? What? How?” You’re shocked, unable to comprehend how your baby sister could owe anyone so much.

“I… I met this guy, Zemo. We were just friends, but he started taking me around his friends. His friends hung out in these speakeasy type clubs. They played poker and stuff. I don’t know. I usually just watched, but after a few times, they talked me into it. Told me it was easy money, and, Y/N, I needed the money! So, I played, and I was doing really well. So I kept playing long after Zemo and his buddies left. I made so much down there, but I got too cocky and I lost an all-or-nothing. I played again to try and win it back, but it was like I’d lost my mojo, like I’d been playing on beginner’s luck.”

“Ellie,” you say sympathetically.

“I was $750,000 in debt and I couldn’t pay it, but the man I’d lost to—I think he felt bad—he said I could have 72 hours to get him his money. If I didn’t get him the money in time…” She trails off and you realize you’re clenching your jaw. You consciously unclench it. Ellie takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “He said if I didn’t get the money to him in 72 hours he would just have to find another way for me to pay him back. I don’t really know what he meant by that.

Anyway, the blond man asked if I could repay the money. I said no. He looked… sympathetic? He told me I’d have to go back to the cell until they could find use for me. I was there until they brought me home.”

You sit next to her on the bed, circling your arm around her. “Elle, I’m so sorry. I wish you’d come to me for help. I would’ve helped.”

“You don’t have that money, either. Plus, you are helping.”

“I guess.”

“What time is it?”

“6:30.”

“Are you nervous?” Ellie asks.

“I accidentally kidnapped the most powerful man in the city and threatened his life, sis. I’m not nervous at all,” you say sarcastically.

Ellie opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the ringing of your doorbell and a knock on the door. The two of you exchange a surprised look and you double check your watch: 6:34.

“He’s early,” you say, standing as you take a deep breath and try to swallow your nerves.

“Hey, you’ve got this. I know it,” Ellie reassures you, but she makes no move to follow you as you leave the room and go to make good on your end of yours and James’ bargain. You’re settling her debt and she makes no further move to support you.

You sigh as you reach the front door, swallowing your nerves and the tiny bit of resentment for your sister forming. Swinging the door open, you come face to face with the same man you had kidnapped and assaulted the day before: James Barnes.

James is looking around him when you open the door, but his attention is immediately on you as the door opens. His striking blue eyes meet yours, take in your person, and meet your eyes again. He grins.

“You look beautiful, Doll,” he says. He sounds breathless, completely blown away. You give him a questioning look, still so unsure of his motives.

“Thank you. You clean up nice. Not being tied up to a chair suits you,” you say. Your words come out funny. The ‘thank you’ sounds somewhat genuine but the compliment comes out somewhat strained, like you’re not sure you should be saying it.

James ignores your tone and lets his grin widen. He then takes a hand out from behind his back—you hadn’t even noticed his hand was behind his back—and hands you a bouquet of blue hyacinths. You just stare at them for a while as your brain attempts to catch up with your eyes.

“You actually brought flowers.”

“You threatened me again,” he teases.

“James, I…” You trail off, speechless. You wonder how you keep getting away with threatening him. Most people would be, at best, locked away, at worst, dead.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name,” he says, “is Bucky.”

You let your eyes trail from the hyacinths up to his eyes (you can’t help but notice they’re the same color), and you think that he looks shy—timid. James—Bucky—looks like he is nervous to ask you to call him by this other name.

“Bucky?” You ask, and, against your better judgment, as you ask it, you pull back your front door and step aside, inviting him into your home. He looks equally surprised you’d do such a thing, but he enters, taking a few steps into the corridor before pausing to look around and to wait on you. You close the door behind you and lead him to the kitchen where you pull out a vase for the flowers.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s—erm—a nickname. It’s what my friends call me.”

“We’re friends?” You ask skeptically.

“Well, no, but we’re going on a date. ‘James’ is just a little formal,” he says, wrinkling his nose at his own name.

You offer him a friendly smile (which surprises you). “Well, Bucky, you’re lucky I’m ready because you’re, like, half an hour early.”

Bucky has the decency to look embarrassed, but he ignores the accusation. “Well,” he says instead, “shall we go?”

You nod and follow him out to his car. Once you make it to the vehicle, Bucky opens the car door for you, carefully shutting it behind you. He takes his spot in the driver’s seat a moment later.

You let out a breathy laugh and he side eyes you as he starts the car.

“What?”

“Nothing! I just sort of expected you to have a driver. You’re just… surprising.”

He smiles at your admission. “Careful, Doll. Someone might think you like me.”

“Doubtful.”

It’s not a long drive to what is certainly a high class establishment—an establishment nicer than any you’ve been to before. Bucky gets out of the car, rushing to let you out. As you get out of the car, he offers his keys to the valet and his arm to you. You glance briefly at his arm and give him an annoyed look as you loop your arm through his.

Bucky escorts you to the double glass doors that lead to the restaurant where a doorman waits to open the door for you. You say “thank you” as you pass and Bucky gives you an unreadable look. Then, once inside the restaurant, Bucky whispers something to the host who nods and leads you towards the back and up some stairs that lead to a glass enclosed landing where two guards stand on either side of the door leading to the rooftop seating. Bucky lets go of your arm and steps forward as the male security guard mirrors him. The guard pats Bucky down, finds a handgun tucked away in a holster at his waist, takes it, and then allows him to step to the side so that you may take your turn.

Your breathing picks up ever so slightly as you watch Bucky get frisked, especially once you realize they’re going to frisk you, too. You start to worry when you realize they’re going to find a weapon on you—how is that going to play out? Will Bucky go back on his word? Will he kill you? Then, when they take away Bucky’s weapon, you remind yourself to breathe normally and regain some confidence. He brought a gun, too: he doesn’t trust you and you don’t trust him.

You step forward, making eye contact with Bucky the whole time. You hold your arms out ever so slightly as the female guard steps forward to frisk you. You raise an eyebrow—maybe you’re challenging him to do something—when the guard finds your gun and pulls it out of your waistband. She holds it up and offers you a “seriously?” look, which you see in your peripheral. You shrug at her, eyes still on Bucky. He’s smirking.

The two of you are then led by the host through the guarded door to a single table that sits on the balcony. The balcony has been well decorated with myriad plants and string lights. There’s soft music playing in the background. Bucky pulls out a chair for you and you sit, watching as he takes the seat across from you. The two of you just watch each other as the host offers you menus and promises a waiter will be with you soon. Once the host is gone, the two of you sit, watching, waiting.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” you finally say, picking up the menu. If he isn’t going to say anything, you decide, you’re going to play coy.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, letting out a laugh and looking away before returning is gaze to you.

“You brought a gun to our date,” he says.

“So did you,” you reply, still looking at the menu. “Is the chicken alfredo any good here?”

“What for?” He asks, ignoring the alfredo question.

You sigh, setting down the menu. “Why did you?”

“You held me at gunpoint the last time we met. How was I to know you wouldn’t try to finish the job?”

“I held you at gunpoint the last time we met, but I had you tied up. How was I to know you wouldn’t take the shot now that your hands aren’t tied?”

“We’re here because I already shot my shot.”

“Clever.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’ve given you every reason to.”

He laughs humorlessly. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

“Why am I here, James? Why don’t you want to hurt me? Aren’t you supposed to be some big, scary crime lord? Because you’re not living up to your name.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and looks away. You think you’ve maybe finally struck a nerve, finally gone too far.

“Have you ever once considered, Y/N, that maybe—just maybe—I’m a person, too? Did you ever think you were capable of threatening someone’s life until necessity made you?” You flinch. He notices. “I have a shitty job. I do shitty things. I do even shittier things to even shittier people. But it’s the job I was given, the job I have, and the job I do. Maybe I’m a monster, a freak, an emotionless robot, but maybe that’s just what I have to be so I don’t go crazy. At the end of the day, I’m just a man who wants to live his life, so forgive me for wanting to do that.”

Bucky is breathing erratically. He’s worked up. You stare, mouth slightly agape, surprised. You have a feeling he’s felt this way a while and never had the chance to voice it, but you also realize that your existence in his life might be more to him than just some girl who wants her sister back, some girl who extorted him.

“You actually like me,” you say, genuinely surprised.

He looks at you, eyes softening and looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got terrible taste.”

He laughs. “That so?”

“I never even introduced myself. You clearly only know my name because you know who my sister is and put two and two together. I’ve been terrible to you. I mean, I have my totally logical and understandable reasons, but I’ve been terrible.”

“That’s true, but I was holding your sister hostage. Not the best conditions. I’m sure she’s thrilled about all this.” He gestures to the table in front of you, the two of you.

“She recognizes I’m cleaning up her mess.”

Bucky looks at you, expression sad.

“Cleaning up her mess,” he repeats quietly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, louder, more confident.

“What?”

“This date. You don’t want to be here. You’re not interested. I get it. You’re cleaning up your sister’s mess. You can just go,” he says, looking far off onto the horizon. “Don’t worry about Ellie. Her debt’s forgotten.”

You don’t move. You sit, you stare, you chew your lip, and you consider the man in front of you. You consider the handsome, powerful, sad man in front of you who—to your surprise—is genuinely interested in you. You make a decision.

You hear your chair scrape against the floor as you stand up and start to walk back towards the door. You take a few steps past Bucky, turn around, and walk back to the table. You stop right beside Bucky and hold out your hand. Bucky looks at your hand outstretched to him and trails his eyes up to you, and you watch as he carefully searches your face.

“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. Mind if I join you for dinner?”

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he takes your hand, grasping it firmly as he shakes it. “Bucky,” he greets, playing along. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv @searchn0tfound @10ava01

[donatellawritings]

hola bebesita!!!! sooo curious to see how rafe's friends are towards his sweetheart latina :PPPP

all of rafe’s friends loved you — much to his jealousy-ridden dismay. they held you in a highly respectable regard, majorly due to the fact that you were rafe’s girl, and partly thanks to the fact that they each had premature crushes on you. you were always stretching your plump, gloss-smeared lips into a achingly sweet smile, always treating them with a basic kindness and warmth that they never received from rafe, despite years upon years of friendship. it also didn’t hurt that you were a sight for sore eyes, tight mini skirts and low rise yoga pants clung to your plush curves just right, cropped baby tees and skimpy shirts pushed your supple breasts up to the perfect height, and you were always dolled up — glittery shadows accenting you wispy eyelash-clad doe eyes perfectly, hair always shining and voluminous whether it was curled or tousled into a flippy blowout.

sometimes, rafe’s friends obsessively thought about just how he secured a bombshell of your likeness. i mean, sure, they knew it would be easy for rafe to secure some coked up kook with blonde hair, but you were a dream. and there were instances where they would bashfully listen as you whispered into rafe’s ear, licking over their suddenly dried lips as the sing of your slight accent peaked with certain words.

today, rafe had invited the likes of topper, kelce, and barry to tannyhill — you stood at the kitchen counter, pulling at the hem of your baby pink micro skirt, shifting your weight on your dior mules as you carried a tray of freshly assorted fruits and hors d’oeuvres atop of your french manicured hands, your swarovski tennis bracelet glinting against the sunlight as you made your way to the backyard, a smiled pulling on your glossy lips as you reached where rafe and his friends sat, placing the tray on the table, slightly bent over as the three young men stole quick glances at your off-shoulder clad chest, the swell of your breasts pushed up against your chest.

sat with his legs spread, rafe patted your inner thigh with a proud grin on his face, “thank you, princess,” he nodded, bringing your free hand to his lips, kissing your soft knuckles as you turned to him with a close-mouthed and blushing smile. your freshly blown out hair flipping over your exposed shoulder as you took your seat beside rafe, one of your legs neatly crossed over the other.

“thank you!” the three young men who sat across from you and rafe sang in unison as they jabbed toothpicks into their food of choice. your stomach bloomed with happiness as you leaned into rafe’s side with a content sigh.

wordlessly, you leaned over, stabbing a toothpick into a cube of soft mango, cupping your hand underneath the juicy fruit as you carried it towards rafe’s face, “try some, papi,” you smiled, batting your pretty lashes at rafe you smirked, lowering his arm to sit around your hip as he accepted the fruit, gently taking the toothpick from your hand, “s’so good,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows as rafe bit into the fruit, pulling you in closer to him as he nodded his head, before kissing the top of your head.

kelce huffed silently, sharing a knowing look with topper as the two young men watched the way your soft hand rested on rafe’s belt buckle. barry sat silent, stabbing his toothpick into a piece of sliced salami as your obnoxiously thin lace thong peeked from underneath your ridden up miniskirt. the three men were quickly torn from their problematic thoughts and stolen glances when rafe decided to clear his throat.

expecting a slew of insults and profanities to be hurled their way, topper, kelce, and barry were pleasantly surprised when you straightened your posture, biting down into your plump bottom lip in excitement. “uh, i just wanted to invite you guys to my birthday, m’finally turning twenty-one so i am super excited,” you beamed, your doe eyes bright with glee as rafe slid his hand up to the dip of your waist, giving it a soft squeeze of approval. “i know that rafe would want you guys there, and it would mean a lot to me if you all could come,” you sealed with a sweet smile.

“yeah, s’gonna be a fuckin’ lot of people here, but she wants to see y’guys,” rafe sighed, scratching at his buzzed hair as you jabbed your shared toothpick with rafe into a crisp red grape.

barry let out a breathy chuckle, “yeah, we’ll be there, princesa, gotta make sure that country club over here doesn’t freak the fuck out when jj and them boys get here,” he teased, sinking back into his seat as rafe scoffed in return. barry had the least of a crush on you — did he think you were drop-dead-gorgeous? absolutely, but he felt more of a need to make sure that you were comfortable around him, he’d felt a weird brotherly sense of protectiveness over you.

topper and kelce, however, they had school boy crushes on you. they found you to be so kind and adorable, maybe due to rafe’s strict demeanor towards them, they were often silent or carelessly staring at you. kelce was more reckless than topper, falling victim to many scalding lectures from rafe, due to how many times he’d been caught ogling over you. nonetheless, you remained impartial to topper and kelce, maintaining your kindness towards them.

“you two gonna keep fuckin’ starin’ at her, or are y’gonna speak up?” rafe called out, his eyes low and jaw tight as his knee began to bounce while he subconsciously dug his ring clad fist into the plush of your thigh. you silently tapped your nails against rafe’s belt buckle, causing his eyes to fall on yours as you silently pleaded for him to calm down. rafe lightly slapped the side of your thigh in acknowledgment with a roll of his eyes.

topper let out a nervous laugh, running his fingers through his hair with a forced smile, “yeah man, we’ll be there!” he laughed once more, before focusing his attention on downing the rest of his beer.

“can’t wait!” kelce added, refusing to make eye contact with neither your or rafe, an embarrassed smile now pulling on his lips.

letting out a laugh of false humor, rafe roughly grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, his eyes set directly on kelce. you let out a shocked gasp into rafe’s mouth, humming in excitement as his tongue slid across yours, both of your mouths eagerly fought to deepen the kiss, before rafe pulled away from you, leaving you dazed as he wiped your smeared lipgloss from his lips. “keep lookin’ at her and i’ll fuck her in front of you — y’can ask topper if m’being serious,” rafe swallowed, bring his bottle of beer to his lips as your eyes widened in embarrassment, your swollen and smeared lips parted in shock.

topper awkwardly shifted in his seat as barry let out an amused laugh, “shit, y’all got it bad for this girl,” he commented, taking another swig from his beer as rafe glanced at you, motioning for you to sit on his lap.

you were quick to comply, your plush ass now sat square on rafe’s bulge, his hand resting on your stomach as his chin leaned on your shoulder, “stay still,” rafe whispered, pulling down the front of your skirt as you felt him shift underneath you, “keep your legs closed, mama,” he huffed lowly, leaving your eyes widened at the feeling of rafe’s thick tip sliding into you in one fluid motion, a sharp exhale leaving your lips as you forced yourself to hold in a moan.

your eyes remained blown and bewildered as you made an awkward eye contact with kelce, your lips parting in a silent moan as rafe leaned back into the seat, remaining subtle as he raised his hips slightly, his tip lightly grazing your g-spot.

“let’s see how long it takes him to figure out that my dick is in you, right now,” rafe chuckled, the volume of his voice carrying only to your ears. rafe’s hand remained on your stomach as he brought his beer-clad hand to his lips, taking a cool and long sip.

[bb-eilish]

𝒜𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝐿𝓊𝓈𝓉

pairing: AI!Soobin x f!reader

warnings; swearing, pet names, dirty talk, multiple smut scenes, pining, nipple play, rough sex, phone call, praise, robo soobin, no condom use, creampie, jealousy/delusion, stalking, kissing, blonde soobin. (if i missed something pls lemme know!!)

summary; Your close friend’s new riches makes christmas forever memorable.

A/N: I read @writerpetals “artificial heart” and couldn’t help but picture soobin, please read their work it’s great!

𝓐 gasp is heard through the entire restaurant, you would care about the dozen eyes suddenly on you, but you can’t. Your closest friend, Yoon, has struck gold, she’s been working as a higher up at your guys’ office job for the longest time and has been very buddy buddy with the CEO. So when the former CEO retired she left the company to Yoon, who now has inherited a million dollar company!

“You’re kidding.” Your mouth is glued to the ground as she beams at you, “Isn’t this amazing? Just in time for Christmas too. I worked for so long and it finally really payed off. Now I just need to find you a present.” She thoughtfully looks at her food, the flame of the candle between you two lighting up her features warmly. “Heh, if only you could buy me a boyfriend.” You joke as you poke at the salad in your dish.

“Boyfriend hm? I see…” She smiles as you both carry on, dinner is filled with disbelief as she tells you just how much she has now and the gossip the old CEO told her.

///////////

“Merry Christmas, Y/n. Bring him in over here!” Yoon greets and then shouts behind her, the smile on your face twists into confusion. “What?” You’re confused even further when two men heave a box up the steps to your porch and slide in through the door. They drop it off by the tree and you gape. A box that’s at least 6’0 sits next to your tree now, the presents under it look much smaller in comparison.

Yoon’s smile almost hurts your eyes as she beams at you, “I think you’re gonna love it!” She goes in for a hug that squeezes the air from your lungs, “Yea, I bet I will. I hope you like your presents.” Your nerves flare at the idea of her not liking what you got her because of this unbelievably tall present.

“You seriously didn’t have to get me anything so big, I’d be happy with a card honestly.” She shakes her head at your modesty and smiles, “You deserve the world Y/n, don’t worry about it.”

“Coffee? We can open presents after I make some?”

“Sounds lovely, be quick or I might open your gift myself.” You giggle at her and go to put a K-cup into the machine. While waiting you can’t help but to admire your kitchen, it’s your favorite style and just the right size. It’s perfect and even better with the adorable christmas decorations everywhere. But sort of….empty. The decorations are nice and all, but ever since your ex left awhile ago it’s missing something.

The sound of the coffee squirting into your cup takes you out of your thoughts as you wait till it’s done and put a new one in. “Here, coconut french roast, just how you like it.” Bending over slightly, you pass her the hot christmas mug and go back to the machine. It’s just finishing up your cup.

“Alright, open this first.” You grab a small wrapped box and pass it to her, the snowflake paper contrasting to her red and back flannel pajamas. She pushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear before digging into the bright paper. “Oh my god, this is so pretty. Is this the one we saw in the window of that one store?” She asks in awe, “Hehe, yeah it is. Do you like it?” Watching her squeal makes you feel warm, she means so much to you and you can only hope she knows it.

“I love it, thank you so much. Here open this!”

You both go back and forth opening the presents until the last one is inevitably the tall one. It intimidates you as you step closer and dig a nail under the tape that’s stuck at the sides. You jump when she changes her mind about you opening it, “Actually, y/n. Turn around, I’ll let you know when to look.”

You arch a brow at her but turn around nonetheless, there’s the sound of paper, cardboard, and then a button. She squeals happily as she tells you to turn around. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you fidget with your fingers and swing around.

First you blink, and then again, and once more. A man stands there, a gentle smile on his face as he greets you. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. L/n. I’m Soobin, I hope I can be of service.” You hesitantly meet his hand. “Um, I’m sorry, I’m confused.” You eye both of them until he responds.

“I am your assistant, I was customized for you.” That honestly made your confusion worse as you look towards Yoon, she laughs as she begins to explain. “This is Soobin, your AI assistant. He cost a pretty penny but it was so worth it, once I saw how customizable he was, I knew he could be the one for you.”

“He’s a robot?” You ask dumbfounded, he smiles again. A very human-sounding chuckle leaves him as he nods. You eye him up and down not so subtly, his hair is almost a platinum blonde, it sits neatly styled over his forehead. He wears a tidy looking black knit sweater matched with jeans and sneakers.

"Looks real doesn't he? He can do whatever you like, he can cook,clean, grocery shop, even drive a car." She stops to take a step closer to you, leaning into your ear. "And he's made for you in other ways as well." She laughs before getting a loud notification. You stare at her wide eyed as she apologizes and leaves to go manage the company or whatever she said.

"Merry Christmas Ms. L/n. Would you like me to clean up?"

You peer around your living room, the ground is covered in hundreds of pieces of wrapping paper. "Uh, sure. Thank you..." You can’t help but eye him curiously as he gathers the paper and random boxes around you. You have to admit, he does look incredibly real. Especially when he bends over so fluently to grab at the garbage. He even breaths out a little while he does it as well.

“Where should I put these?” He questions when he’s done, it honestly scares you a bit as you were spacing out — thinking about him of course, he’s an entire robot.

“Oh uh, the trash cans are in the garage. That way.” You point to the correct door, he nods with a smile and is on his way.

The coffee in your hands grows colder as you watch him, you’d be worried about being creepy with how much you’re staring, but something tells you it probably doesn’t matter.

“All done. Do you need anything else Ms. L/n?” He stands before you with his hands crossed in front of him. “No, thank you for cleaning. You can…s-sit down if you’d like? We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other anyways.” He smiles again and you try not to pay attention to how you gulp in response. Soobin swings himself around and sits on the other end of your couch, looking at his hands as he outstretched them curiously.

“So, Soobin. I know you can do house chores, what else can you do?” This is the best small talk you’re able to conjure up at the moment, you’re acutely aware that he’s metal and wires. “Besides house hold chores, I can answer questions — as I’m connected to the internet — I know every language and am fully trained in multiple martial arts. I was programmed to protect you, as well as be a companion. I hope we are able to get along.”

He smiles at you once more, the dimples in his cheeks apparent as he does so. He’s so human it’s uncanny.

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’ve actually been a bit worried about living on my own. Is there anything else you can do?”

“Yes, I’ve also been programmed to know exactly what you are into sexually.” Your eyes basically pop out of your head in response, warmth settles over your skin as you let your imagination run a little too wild in the moment.

“O-oh. Well, uh, I’m going to take a shower, make yourself…at home.”

You scurry off to your bedroom, thoughts absolutely taken over by his words. You were very open with Yoon about what you were into, you’ve been friends for years so it was only natural that the subject was brought up multiple times. And now you have a robot assistant who looks like he was modeled after…well.. a model, and knows how to please you.

You’re going through your clean hamper, as you haven’t put them away yet, when a knock sounds from your door.

“Ms. L/n, since it’s 9:27 in the morning, shall I make breakfast?” His muffled voice still has heat settling over your cheeks as you respond.

“Oh, sure. You can make whatever you want, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” To be honest, you couldn’t think of a single breakfast food at that moment. Too much has happened in such a short time, you’re still a little stunned. Soobin hums and agrees and you go back to searching for clothes to wear.

////////////////////

You’re shower was 15 minutes longer than usual, Soobin was on the front of your mind and because of that you were in space for most of it.

The bathrooms warm and foggy atmosphere contrasted the rest of your house, it was cold but not annoyingly stuffy when you creaked the door open. “Ms. L/n breakfast is ready, I have made pancakes and french toast.”

“I don’t remember having frozen pancakes and french toast?” You mumble as you step into the kitchen to ogle the delicious food on your table.

“I made them from scratch, I hope you enjoy them.” He bows before turning around to handle the small mess he created. He made them….from scratch? He even topped it off with a few blueberries on the butter that sat on top of the stack of pancakes. The food looked like it was stolen right from a commercial.

“They look delicious, thank you, Soobin.” You say as you slip into your seat and pluck your fork from the table. “Of course.”

Cutting the pancakes was almost mesmerizing, as they were unbelievably pillowy and soft. The taste was so much better than you imagined as well.

“Soobin, oh my god. These are amazing.”

“Thank you, Ms. L/n. I’m glad you like them.” He smiles, it’s so human like it catches you off guard.

He leaves you to eat and only comes back to take your dirty dishes. Wow, he’s treating you better than all of your ex’s combined, it has your eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

That’s how the remainder of Christmas went, with you being surprised at how nice he was, even if he was AI and programmed that way.

“What do you do at night? Do I need to…uh…plug..you in? Or..?” He didn’t come with any plugs or anything so you’re a little confused if he has to recharge or something. “Oh, no. I sleep as well, it’s obviously not the same as human sleep, but same idea.” You open your mouth in an O shape as you nod.

“Well, goodnight, Soobin.”

“Goodnight, Ms. L/n. Merry Christmas!”

//////////

Sleeping was difficult the first night, knowing he was “sleeping” in your guest bedroom. You tossed and turned for hours before barely being able to slip fully away. Too bad that lasted an hour and now your alarm is blaring. The sigh you let out is almost pathetic as you groggily rise to your feet.

Your apartment is eerily quiet and you momentarily forget what’s missing. That is until the door opens and he walks in, putting down the groceries he bought on the counter.

Rubbing at your eyes you ask, “What are those?”

“I bought ingredients for dinner tonight, as I know what food you look. So, we’re having your favorite italian dish.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you, Soobin. Heh, do you know my social security number too?” You chuckle, “Yes, it is 892-“

“Okay! So glad you know that.” You nervously chuckle.

///////////////

3 Months have passed since you were given Soobin, he’s been unbelievably helpful so you’re grateful Yoon spent the money on him, because you did NOT have that much. Soobin and you have grown closer as well and you can’t remember what it was like without him.

“And I told him to fuck off because he literally tried to get with my sister.” Yoon grumpily exclaims as she tips her back to down another shot. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, she was also like 17 at the time.” Your mouth falls open in shock as she nods her head drunkly. You yawn and go to rub your eyes, stopping because it took you so long to do your eyeliner earlier. “Hey, I’m gonna call Soobin to get me, do you want a ride home?”

She shakes her head with a smile before saying, “Don’t worry, I have a chauffeur now. Isn’t that so weird?” She giggles. You dig out your phone from your purse that sits on your lap, the dim lights of the club making the screen much brighter than you remembered. Squinting, you try your best to find your home phone number, turning down the brightness is useless because apparently it’s already all the way down. Finally you find the number and press it, it only takes a couple rings before he greets you with the voice you’ve grown very fond of.

“Hello, Ms. L/n. Are you enjoying your night out?” He’s as kind as ever, it brings a sappy smile to your face as you answer. “Yea, thank you. Could you pick me up by any chance? I took Yoon’s car so my car is still at home.” You yell into the phone, it’s so loud you wonder if yelling is even working.

“Yes, of course. I’m leaving right now.”

“Don’t you need the address?” Your eyebrows furrow.

“I always know your location thanks to your phone. I’ll be there in approximately 16 minutes.”

“Thank you.” You hang up and try your best to stay awake, you haven’t gone to a club in a little while and it’s becoming obvious. Even though the bass from the DJ is basically making you vibrate, you still try and fight off sleep.

“Hey, uh, Yoon. I’m gonna wait outside for Soobin.” You lean on your arm as your eyes droop.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the office okay?” She’s even smiley and go lucky when drunk, you seriously envy her.

“Alright, be safe. See ya tomorrow.”

The warmth of having to navigate through grinding bodies has nausea forming in your stomach, it only subsides once you swing open the door. The air feels refreshing as you stumble out. It was like a sauna inside, the cool air against your flushed skin has you shuttering out a breath of relief.

Glancing around you spot a bench to your left and oh does it look inviting. Sitting down, you pluck your phone from your purse to check the time, 13 more minutes. The bouncer on the other side of the door is busy talking, as well as the people in line but it all blurs into each other. God, tomorrow is gonna be a bitch.

Your head hangs low as a breeze flows up your dress, good thing your purse is settled on your lap or else the line of people would have a great view of your underwear. Time is warped in your head and you swear it’s been only a minute before someone is calling your name. Your head raises, higher and higher, until you make eye contact with Soobin. He’s so tall, you love how tall he is. He’s so attractive.

“Ms. L/n. Are you ready to leave?” He holds out a hand for you to take, which you obviously do because walking through the parking lot in this state in these heels would be impossible. “Yes, thank you, Soobin.” Your body can’t help but lean against his figure as you both make your way to your car.

While getting in you giggle to yourself drunkly, slouching over the center console. “Here, Ms. L/n. Let me buckle you in.”

“Y/n.” You smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Call me Y/n. Ms. L/n sounds like my mother.” You giggle once more, more heat spreading over your face if possible. Even more when the hand clicking your seatbelt drifts across your thighs. It confuses you, isn’t he AI? Isn’t he free from making human mistakes? Did he do that on purpose then? Your drunken mind has your memories a little fuzzy but he treats you like a girlfriend, now even down to the teasing touches. You’ll have to ask Yoon about that when you see her next.

“Soobin, can you help the hangover I’m gonna have tomorrow? I have work.” The car purrs to life as he presses the button and puts it in drive. “Of course, Y/n. I’m happy to help.”

The way home was strange, you honestly blame it all on the alcohol. Whenever you peaked over at him you couldn’t help but ogle, even if he was AI, he was unbelievably attractive. How did Yoon know your exact type, sure you talk about your sex and love life with her but she really hit the nail on the head. The way his blonde hair falls almost angelic like over his skin has completely stolen your attention.

The thoughts have your skin warming again and a slight heat being lit in your gut.

“We’re here, do you need me to unbuckle you?” He catches you off guard, you were still mid swoon when he started talking.

“Oh, no I got it. Thank you, Soobin.” He nods before stepping out of your car and circling around to open yours as well. Your legs are a bit wobbly, so when you take a tumble he’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist. You need to sleep, the heat inside you seems to be hotter and it’s really starting to affect you. You seriously just want him to take you right then and there.

“Here, you should eat. I’ll make you something.” He proposes when you’re inside, slumped over a chair. “No, it’s okay. I changed my mind, I just want to go to bed. You should too, goodnight, Soobin.”

“Oh, goodnight, Y/n.”

///////////

Regret. You truly regret dismissing Soobin’s attempts of helping your inevitable hang over. As you sit up in bed your head pounds annoyingly. It’s 6:09 AM, you work at 7:30, hopefully it’s enough time to reduce the pulsing in your skull.

“Good morning, Y/n. Are you feeling okay?” He asks you once you stumble out of bed and into your living quarters. “No, do you know if we have any pain killers?” You question, rubbing your face with your hands soothingly. A hand comes to rub your back as he answers, “I’ll get those right away, are you hungry?” You don’t know how he does it, but you can only concentrate on his hand as it rubs against your clothed back. Even the pounding in your head is an after thought compared to him. You manage to nod your head ‘yes’.

His touch is fleeting and leaves a subtle want in you as he opens up a random cabinet and searches for the medicine.

“Here, let me get you some water.” It’s really not your fault for how you feel, he was made to be specifically your type. The man of your dreams basically. He slides a cup of water your way, “Thank you, Soobin.” Your head tips back as you cram the pills into your mouth and take a swig of the water.

“How about we do something tonight? Just you and me? I really appreciate what you do around here.”

Even for a robot, he pauses, his eyes are wide as he processes your words before nodding. “Of course, I look forward to it.”

/////////////

You’re showered and fed by the time you get to your car, waving to Soobin as if he’s your house wife. You really hate leaving him, his presence has made your home so warm and comfy. Being single isn’t the most fun and he’s really made you miss being in a relationship. That is until you make it to your office and hear his voice. His makes Soobin’s somehow even nicer.

“Morning, Y/n. I heard you and the boss had a fun time last night. Wish you would’ve invited me.”

Sigh.

“Morning to you too, Hyun. Sorry, I didn’t know you would’ve wanted to go.” You swing around to face him, he leans against your door frame with his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe you could make it up to me? Whaddya say? You, me. Dinner tonight?” You were expecting this honestly, Hyun is constantly trying to advance this “relationship” as he calls it. He’s honestly like a mosquito. “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans with my friend.”

He only smiles and nods, “Do I know her?” His question catches you off guard, “Uh no, you don’t…” Sitting down, you turn on your pc and see what pages you have to edit today. But of course, it’s never that easy. “What’s her name?” You hold back the urge to smash your head into your keyboard.

Well, this is gonna be interesting.

“Soobin.”

A beat passes before his annoying laugh is heard, “That’s funny…that..that sounds like a guy’s name..” His laugh stops when you say “It is.”

“Oh, are you dating…?”

Your fists clench at that, “No, now I really need to get started.”

You wish it ended there, but it didn’t, not in your office, not at the printer, not even when you were walking to the bathroom.

Finally it’s time to go home, 5:26 and you’re so ready to do something with Soobin, without Hyun especially. You thankfully didn’t see him on your way out either, which was weird to be honest. He always makes a move on you in the parking lot. Maybe your constant rejection finally got through?

////////////

Driving home was not fun, you swear this one car was following you. They were far enough away that you couldn’t see who was driving, but you know they were following you. Instead of going straight to your house you took a small detour to get them off your ass. Which thankfully worked. The car comes to a halt as you wait for your garage door to open, as soon as you’re inside you close it immediately. Hopefully that creep didn’t spot you.

“Soobin, I’m home.” A beat passes and still no response.

You cock an eyebrow at the silence. Hanging up your jacket on your coat hanger, you find a note on the counter.

Be back soon, getting dinner.

-Soobin

A breath of relief leaves you as you read it. That gives you enough time to change out of your work clothes. The pencil skirt you’re currently wearing might look great but it does not feel like it. Your legs are chafing and you’re pleased Soobin isn’t here to witness you shuffle awkwardly to your bedroom.

Unzipping the skirt snd unhooking your bra had you melting on the spot, even more so when you put on your favorite pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a nice tank top. Taking off your makeup was the cherry on top, you could seriously just throw yourself on your bed and pass out. But you’re way too excited to hang out with Soobin.

Knock Knock

Your head snaps towards the echoing knocking. Soobin has a spare key so it’s not him. Nevertheless, you go to open the door.

“Can I help yo-“ Color drains from your face, why is he here? At your door step? With a bouquet of flowers no less?

“Y/n, I’m glad I found the right house. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at you like he didn’t show up on your door step like an abandoned child. “How did you get my address?” Honestly you regret asking, you didn’t want to know.

He laughs before answering, “The only way I could without asking and sounding creepy, I followed you home!”

Your jaw drops, “You..followed me..home..?” You’re sure you’re on an episode of punked or something, this can’t be real.

He nods his head, hand sticking out to pass you the bouquet of tulips and daisies. A moment passes before you hesitantly take them, awkwardly holding them up. “I know you said you had plans tonight, but I really think you shouldn’t hang out with this Soobin guy. After all, you have me and he sounds like a total creep.”

You’ve seriously had enough, you draw the line at him questioning Soobin’s motives and yknow, him following you home.The grip on the frail stems tightens and the stinging pain of thorns is second in line to the steam coming out of your ears.

“Okay, I’ve had enough. We are not friends, you are a major creep. You followed me home yet have the audacity to point fingers at Soobin. You’ll never even be half the man he is, now get off of my porch and don’t even think of even looking in my direction again.” Your teeth are sore after your word vomit from being clenched so tightly.

He’s expressionless until his eyebrows furrow, an almost confused look settles on his face. “I’m not sure you understand, you and me are meant to be. Soobin brainwashed you or something to think of me like this, I didn’t think it was this bad. Come here.” He goes to grip your free hand, his sweaty palm has a shiver of disgust ring through you.

“No, don’t touch me. Fuck off.” The flowers fall to the ground as you try to pry his greasy fingers from your skin. The sound of something closing is lost on your ears as blood rushes by them from the sudden adrenaline.

“I’m trying to help you , Y/n. I know you love me.”

Tears prick your eyes , you’re totally overwhelmed and starting to panic.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” That voice didn’t come from the man desperately trying to kidnap you, it was from him.

“Soobin, please help. He won’t let go.” Relief floods your system and your knees almost give out when he steps forward. “Let go of her.” His voice shocks you, it’s stern and low, you try to not think about how hot he sounds.

“Oh, you’re Soobin? You’re the one corrupting my love.” Hyun let’s go to turn around fully, trying his best to look intimidating. It’s not working, Soobin is a solid foot taller than him. Hyun doesn’t seem to be aware of it though as he goes to poke a crude finger into the hard chest of your friend.

Soobin remains calm and it shocks you, AI or not, Hyun is unbelievably annoying.

“Do I need to help you leave? Or can you do it by yourself?” Soobin steps closer, a gulp sounds from Hyun and you have to stifle a giggle.

“This isn’t over, Y/n is mine.” He says before scurrying off to his car.

“Soobin, oh my god. Thank you.” You breath out a shuddered sigh as you basically fall into his embrace. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s gone, let’s go inside and eat while dinner is hot, Angel.”

You nod your head before pausing, what did he just call you? Better question, should you change your underwear? Because oh my god, that was hot. Angel is a special name for you, almost all of your ex’s called you that in bed. Hearing it leave Soobin’s mouth has something stirring inside.

“Uh, okay…” You swallow.

The house feels so much nicer when Soobin is home, so much more lively.

“What movie should we watch?” He asks, removing the takeout from the plastic bags. While thinking, your eyes drift down to his hands and notice how his veins protrude every time he grabs something, you follow one until it disappears under his skin.

“Y/n, are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?” Your friend asks concerned.

“Huh? Sorry, I’m fine, thank you. Do you wanna watch the first Harry Potter movie?”

“Absolutely, I love that movie. Here, take this. This is your fried rice, this is your egg drop soup, these are your crab rangoons, and this is your chow mein.” The food is hot in your arms, almost too hot, as you both walk towards your couch. You happily set the food on your coffee table.

////////////////////

Harry Potter was captivating for the first 30 minutes, then Soobin became a little more interesting.

“Are you serious? I had no idea.” Your stunned face has him throwing back his head in laughter.

“Yea, it’s true. Maybe try using google?” He teases.

“Oh shut up…” You push his shoulder, something catches your attention as you do so. His eyes. You’ve never been so close to really study his eyes before. To test out your theory you put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes change into a darker brown with a tinge of red. Like a chocolate covered strawberry almost.

“I didn’t know your eyes changed color?”

“They’re mood changing, do you like them?” He smiles at you.

“I really do, they’re kind of red right now, what does that mean?” You lean in and pull down his lower eyelid to get a better look.

“Heh, it happens when you touch me” Your eyes go wide, hearing that makes you aware of how close you are and how your hand is still on his face. Harry Potter is only a sound in the background as Soobin grabs the hand touching face, and holds it.

The feelings you’ve been holding in feels like water boiling over the sides of a pot. The way he holds your hand, his gaze of red that’s becoming more apparent the more you look at one another. “Soobin…” Your voice is breathy and you’re not exactly sure why you said his name, it just felt right.

“Angel..” He replies, leaning closer. The name once again does something to you. Your heart might beat out of your chest if you’re not careful. You peak at his lips once more, the natural pout he has is calling you and you can’t take it anymore. Meeting him halfway, your lips shyly meet. It feels amazing though, you’ve been wondering what it’d be like to kiss him for so long now.

The kiss deepens as you both gain confidence, his free hand comes to settle on your waist.

The need for air stings eventually, it pains you more to pull away but you must. It only lasts for a second as you briefly make heated eye contact again, your lips slam together in a lust filled kiss. It’s messy and has the hand on your waist tightening it’s hold and pulling you even closer into him. Your own free hand makes it to his cheek.

His tongue makes its way into your mouth, this is so unlike the first kiss you shared. He was hesitant but now it’s completely different. The heat in the air is getting to you as you let out a whine.

“Soobin, I need you, please.” Your voice is pathetic as you beg for him to do something.

“I didn’t know you’d be so needy so fast…Angel.” The name has your heart skipping a beat and your thighs itching to rub together, Soobin smirks at your reaction. The hand holding your own gently lets go in favor of pushing you back against the couch. Your shirt has ridden a bit at the bottom, the cold-ish polyester against your exposed lower back has you jolting a little.

“You think I didn’t notice how you reacted to that name? Angel, you’re so cute, y’know that?” He hovers over you, leaning down to messily kiss down your neck, a hand moves from next to you to up the sides of your shirt.

The want you’ve been hiding has you already clenching around nothing as he rests his weight on you, now you’re able to feel how mouthwateringly hard he is. Which honestly confuses you, but he was also made for this so you don’t question it too much. You’re not sure you’re even able to right now, the way his hands feel on your skin, as well as how he’s working your collarbone like it owes him money.

Times like this you’re glad you don’t live in an apartment, the desperate noises he’s already pulling out of you would be tricky with such close neighbors.

“Can I take off your shirt?” He sweetly questions, tearing away from your skin to look you in the eyes. His eyes are a deeper wine colored red you take note as you nod your head. Soobin dips back in to kiss you again before removing the offending clothing.

In pure desperation, you raise his own shirt enough to feel his skin on yours. It’s addicting and you don’t stop raising his shirt until he gets the memo and grabs the back of it, pulling it over his head. The sight has you practically drooling. He’s toned, not too muscly, but just enough that it catches your attention.

“This is so cute on you.” He breathes out, tugging lightly on your bra before continuing, “But I really need to take it off.” You nod and clench when his hands warmly drift up your back to the clasp.

Your nipples instantly harden at the cool air and especially how he’s looking at you. His gaze lowers to your chest and eyes your nipples stiffening, without a second thought he latches on to one and sucks. His tongue occasionally flicks over it and it has your back arching, breathy whines leave your mouth as one of your hands ends up gripping the strands of hair at the back of his head.

“Soobin, please.”

“You sound so pretty for me. What do you need Angel?” He asks, an inch above your wet chest.

“I need to feel you, I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

That causes him to smirk, “You’ve been thinking about me? About us?”

You nod, heated cheeks on display. “How could I deny you, Angel.” He says before unbuttoning your jeans, he slips the zipper down and shuffles them off your legs. Now it’s time for him to undo his belt and nothing could break your attention away. The outline of him is obvious as he works his belt and pants.

“Ready?” He questions as he grips himself.

You nod as a finger slips up and down your slit, it has your hips bucking into his hand. He adds another and is thoroughly enjoying how wet you are for him. His fingers settle on your ever-growing clit and wow, your imagination does not compare to the actual thing.

He scoops some of your slick up and spreads it along his shaft, a couple veins shine because of it and it almost has you coming already. “Soobin.” You whine impatiently, a light chuckle leaves him as he guides himself to your entrance. One last glance is shared between you two before he pushes in, the initial sting has your fingers gripping the fabric under you, while a gasp leaves you both.

It’s a delicious feeling really, the fullness of him mixed with the pure intimacy of it all. He bottoms out and waits for you to adjust to him, “Y-you can move.” You’re already out of breath, the wind being knocked out of you when he simply pushed in.

For the first few thrusts Soobin is relatively quiet, it isn’t until he sets a good pace that the sounds rip out of him. “Fuck, you’re so good for me, Y/n. I knew you’d be.” His hands grip your hips to stop you from scooting upward every time he thrusts, the grip tightens every time you clench around him as well.

“From the second I saw you, I wanted to have you like this. God, you feel amazing. So tight and wet for me, you’re perfect.” The praise hurtles you closer and closer to finishing around him.

He breaths out and pushes himself to sit on his knees, your legs are thrown over his shoulders messily as he picks up his pace. The sound of skin hitting skin and your own whiney moans mixed with his gruff and gravely ones fills the room. Soobin takes it a step further and grinds hotly into you a few times. Pleasure fizzles in your abdomen and you know you don’t have long.

The way his hair sticks to his forehead, and how his skin is damp is a sight you’ve been waiting for. How gone he looks as he plunges himself inside you, deeper and deeper. You probably look pretty fucked out yourself, knowing you. His sneaky fingers trail down to your clit and his thumb doesn’t let up, even when you start spasming a bit.

“Soobin I’m so close.” Your face nuzzles into your arm as the growing feeling is close to exploding.

“Look at me.” You can’t hear him very well thanks to the blood rushing behind your ears so he takes it upon himself. His pointer finger and thumb grip your chin to move your head accordingly, his eyes meet yours again and the band snaps within you. Hips buck into his and your back arches, your eyes clamp shut as the euphoric feeling spreads from your pelvis to your limbs and abdomen.

He keeps going until he can’t anymore and stills. Loud groans are heard as he finishes in you and you hope you never forget how he sounds.

“Don’t worry, you can’t get pregnant from me.” He huffs out, which causes a laugh to leave you at the timing of his words.

/////////////////////

“Hey, Soob. My work is having a ‘bring your partner to work’ day today. I keep forgetting to ask you about it, do you wanna go? I’d like having you there.” You grip his arm in a hug as you ask.

“Sounds fun, I’d love being there with you. I’ll get dressed.” He smiles, giving you a sweet kiss before he departs.

The ride there was nice, Soobin just naturally relaxes you. Usually going to work sucks but he makes it better.

“Ok, here we are. I’m on the 6th floor.” You shut your door as does he.

“Wow and here I thought you were the CEO.” He jokes , taking your free hand in his. You side eye him with a joking glare. “Keep it up and I’ll make you take the stairs.”

Walking onto your floor was interesting, couples littered the desks and it was odd to see. Usually your floor is quiet and honestly…boring. The atmosphere was less gray and you liked it.

“Wow is this your office?” Soobin eyes the room with wide eyes.

“Yeah, do you like it? I think it represents me pretty well.” You grip a seat and drag it over to your chair before patting it. He obliges and sits down, peering at your computer screen as you turn it on and already get to clicking stuff.

“I will be right back, I have to get what I printed. I don’t like constantly staring at a screen so I print out my work, so wait here, k?” He nods and leans on your desk. You take a moment to admire his outfit , mainly his hair. It sits dreamily infront of his eyes, sometimes you honestly wonder how he’s able to see.

The printer soon comes into view and you can spot your paper on it as well. The second it’s in your hands you spin your heels and book it, not fast enough apparently.

“Y/n, wait up, let me walk with you.”

There’s no way. You’re hearing things. Turning your head around, you peak over your shoulder to incredulously gaze at Hyun, a soft slimy smile on his face.

“Can I help you?” You don’t stop walking, he unfortunately catches up to you though.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tonight. Couples day has me in the mood for some…company. Ever since my girlfriend left me 5 years ago, y’know? And I think we’re the only ones here without a partner, so it’s a match made in hea-“ You finally enter your office and see Soobin wiggling a pencil in the air, that paired with Hyun’s reaction to Soobin even being there has a fierce giggle threatening to spill out.

“What’s he doing here? This is partners day.”

You sit down next to Soobin and he possessively reaches out for your hand, never breaking his glare towards the intruder.

“Well, Hyun, if you must know, he’s my boyfriend.” Your unimpressed stare doesn’t falter as he processes this information.

“You can leave now.” Soobin deadpans, getting up to shut the door. Hyun doesn’t get a word in before your boyfriend shuts the door in his face. You both share a look before he comes to sit down, patting your back soothingly.

You really thought it ended there because he didn’t bother you for the rest of the day.

That night when you’re perched on Soobin’s lap, lustful kisses being pressed onto the skin of your neck, is when you unexpectedly get a phone call. You’re literally humping his bulge when it happens. “Who is it?” He asks, feeling you up regardless.

Peering over his shoulder, “Mm, just a random number. Should I answer it?” You smile flirtatiously at him. He catches on and leans back to grab the phone, giving you a wink before you press accept.

“Hello?” It takes your boyfriend a millisecond to get back to his antics, but this time his hands are on your ass, guiding your movements over him. His eyes tinge pink before settling for the usual red they usually are during certain escapades.

“Is this Y/n? It’s me Hyun.” Soobin halts, you both stare at each other in shock. His eyebrows furrow, he goes back to what he was doing, now, with a purpose and you can definitely feel the difference. The wine red of his eyes change once more, this time a deep purple.

He nips at your neck and it’s starting to become difficult to speak coherently.

“H-how did you get my number?” His hands knead your ass and the button of his jeans hits your clit, you try to cough away the gasp that escapes you but you’re sure it didn’t help.

“I got it from the office’s-“ You don’t hear the rest because Soobin has decided to turn around and drop you on your bed. You giggle at the way you bounce before remembering you’re on the phone, you laugh out a “sorry, what?” before remembering who you’re talking to.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” The more Hyun presses the more clothes you lose. Your boyfriend pops open your pant’s button and fly before tearing down the pants from your legs, your shirt next.

“Y-yea I’m fine. Is there something you need, Hyun?”

You thankfully weren’t wearing a bra, Soobin seems very grateful. His bites and sucks has your underwear dampening even more and an insatiable need falling over you. Hyun says something but you can’t make it out. The man on top of you takes the hand holding your phone and sets it on your comforter, plucking the device from your grip and throwing it into your pillows.

“Got you all to myself now. God, you’re so wet.” He slips off your ruined underwear and slides a few fingers up and down your wetness, getting them ready for you.

The first breach of his middle finger is satisfying, but not as much as his cock. You’ll get that eventually though.

It doesn’t take long for him to have added another and to slam them into you. His fingers are long and slender, they have your thighs clamping together. Which Soobin is having none of, his free hand forces your legs apart and your clit throbs from the feeling.

“Soobin, please fuck me. Need you so bad.” Your hands settle on his lower abdomen, slightly scratching the skin. “I love when you beg for me, love when you beg for me to fuck this tiny little cunt.” Your lower lip trembles at his words and you mentally prepare yourself. Soobin isn’t usually this dirty, but you’re not complaining.

The man teases your slit, sticking in his tip and hissing when your walls beg him to keep going. But he pulls out in favor of swirling his head around your, now, wet clit. “You love this don’t you, baby?” He huffs out. Before you’re able to answer, he pushes in, you throw your head back and enjoy the feeling of his veins and ridges gliding along your gummy walls so perfectly.

“There you go, baby, you like it when I fill this cute cunt up with my cock?” Nodding and whining wasn’t cutting it this time.

“Use your words.”

“Y-yes, I love it.” Your hands reach for his shoulders, trying to stay coherent for a little longer.

“I know, baby, I know.”

His thrusts pick up momentum and soon his hips are smacking into you. “You’re mine, aren’t you, baby? All mine, no on else’s.” His pelvic bone grazes your clit and you’re finding it hard to speak. All that comes out is babbling and needy whines and moans, “That good? Am I fucking you that good?” You nod furiously, hoping he’ll take that as an answer.

Just like the first time you had sex, he takes your legs into his hands. But this time he presses them to your chest and groans at the sight of you so exposed for him. The way your cunt takes him so effortlessly does things to him.

Soon, he notices the way you clench, and how your breathing becomes quicker. Suddenly, a moan that does not belong to either of you echos. His eyebrows furrow but when he makes eye contact with your pillows he understands. He tries not to stop his pace too much as he leans forward to rummage for your phone.

His lips curl in a devious smirk when he sees the call is still going.

“You enjoying this, Hyun? How I fuck my girl? Do you wish you were here instead of me? Getting to see and feel how fucking wet she is, how tight her little cunt is? What it looks like when she’s full of cum? Call her one more time and I promise you it’s not going to end well.” The only thing that’s heard is a gasp and a choked moan before Soobin hangs up. He exhales before he grips your thighs and jackhammers his hips into you.

“Coming, fuck, I’m coming.” You practically yell, legs shaking as you release all over his cock. The added wetness and the way there’s a white ring forming around his base pushes him over the edge, he spills inside you, hips stuttering to an end.

“Hopefully that helps get him off your back, but I’m happy to do this again if it doesn’t.” He smiles, leaning in to capture your lips.

“You okay?” He questions, pulling out, wiping his forehead with his forearm as well.

“Yea, I am. I love you, Soob.”

The sentiment and the nickname has his dark brown eyes swirl with light pink. “I love you too.”

———————————————————

TAGLIST : @tyunlovie @kyrkitten @rencarnationofangel @jimin2014 @starstruckluminarytale @soobsfairy444 @fathersoneric @ethie @rlvslouis @gyulz @woniebae @rjsmochii @wtfjongseong @boba-beom @mybabywearschanel @chiefturtlebonkghost @bergandysam @qluvrv @genshinsoobs @bucketofhiros @dilfjohhny @meikoo

if i didn’t tag you it’s bc tumblr couldn’t find your blog!!

[tanjiroslittlesib]

i got two boyfriends and they’re best friends. i love it when they french kiss.

tw threesome, reader is afab, multiple orgasms, polyamory (kind of?), oral, spitroasting, tanjiro’s a soft dom, zenitsu’s just eager to please

Tanjiro raises his head up reluctantly from in between your thighs, which were shaking a bit. Slick and spit cover the bottom half of his gorgeous face, along with your inner thighs. His wine-colored eyes open, lidded by the desire for more of you.

The yellow-haired boy next to him, trying impatiently to gather a semblance of patience at the display in front of him, huffs a little. Tanjiro’s already made you cum twice, when is it his turn?

“Tanjirooo,” He whines a little, “When can I have a turn? I want a taste.” Zenitsu pouts, his hard-on becoming painful.

Tanjiro, without hesitation, leans forward and captures Zenitsu’s mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue meshed with Zenitsu’s and earned a small squeak from the blonde. Tanjiro kisses him slowly, making sure Zenitsu gets a proper taste before pulling away, a strand of spit connecting the two. You sit up, a bit dazed as you feel yourself throb some more from the sight.

“There,” Tanjiro says with a smile. “You wanted a taste.”

Zenitsu blushes even deeper than he thought was possible, not only because of Tanjiro kissing him that passionately so causally, but because he can taste you. And he really wants more.

Zenitsu uses this to his advantage and pulls your legs closer to him before spreading them apart. Tanjiro sighs but allows it, he has been hogging you for a bit. Zenitsu settles his face in front of his favorite thing in the world and looks at your cunt lovingly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He looks back up at you for a second, so you know those words are meant for you and not just your pussy. You never know with Zenitsu. Then he dives in, tonguing your already sensitive pussy and moaning almost immediately at the taste. His tongue wasn’t as skilled as Tanjiro’s but he was very determined and passionate. Zenitsu dips his tongue inside of you, making more noises as he does so, before going up to lap at your clit. The gasp that comes out of you causes Tanjiro, who’s moved next to you, to smirk a little.

“Is he making you feel good, sweetheart?” Tanjiro asks you, so sickeningly sweet.

You nod as more breathy moans fall from your lips. Lips that Tanjiro thinks are a little unoccupied at the moment.

Tanjiro presses a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away and unbuttoning his belt. Simultaneously, Zenitsu moves down to circle your hole with his tongue before lapping up more of your juices. You’re not sure who to watch, they’re both perfect and your head is spinning. You decide to watch Zenitsu who’s making the prettiest noises as he eats you out. When you glance back at Tanjiro, he’s beside you again and he’s completely naked.

“You think you can suck me off while Zenitsu’s busy between your legs?” Tanjiro’s words are so dirty and unlike anything he’d say outside of the bedroom. Even though you’ve heard him say similar things like that a number of times, it’s always a bit surprising and makes you even wetter.

You’re very eager to respond with a yes, leaning to lap at his cock with kitten licks. After a moment, you take him into your mouth right as Zenitsu sucks on your clit. You feel your mind slipping, going blank as you moan around Tanjiro’s cock. Tanjiro’s hands wrap around your head, pulling you closer to him but not so that he is forcing you into more than you can handle. He hisses softly as you move back and forth, eager to please him.

You’re not sure when exactly Zenitsu had changed positions but when you feel his tip prodding at your entrance, slowly sliding all the way in, you allow yourself to completely become a fleshlight for the two men. You think you’d be happy to let the two demon slayers absolutely wreck you anytime they want. For de-stressing reasons, of course.

[outermaybanks]

just a kiss - part ii - jj x bi!reader x kie aka 3 times you were oblivious and the one time you knew exactly what you wanted - part two to this

a/n: wrote this entire thing while high, no proof reading we die like men, definitely projecting... also i know nothing abt surfing so if it sounds crazy just pretend it doesn't. there's gonna be at least one more part to this. next part

July 5th - the third time.

When you woke up, Kie’s face was nuzzled into your shoulder, and even in your dazy state, the sight made your heart race. You felt a rush of guilt come over you, so you got out of the bed quickly, running to the bathroom to brush your teeth and splash your face with water. But nothing helped, even while splashing cold water on your face, you couldn’t get the image of your kiss with Kie, or your kiss with JJ out of your mind. 

When you met JJ, when he first started working for your dad, you knew he had a girlfriend, so you didn’t let yourself feel attraction towards him. Obviously, when you got to meet Kie for yourself, you did so already knowing she was dating JJ, so again, you didn’t let yourself feel attraction towards her. Now this felt almost like a sick joke. Were they making fun of you? Were they trying to use you for a threesome?

No, you quickly decided. These were your friends. You couldn’t let your anxiety ruin this for you, and until they did something that showed they had ill intentions, you decided to take them at their word, it was just a kiss, right?

When you returned to the living room, Kie was groggily stretching, JJ still fast asleep beside her. “Mmmm good morning, y/n. How’d you sleep?” she asked softly, but her voice was gravelly from her slumber. “Pretty good considering JJ seems to be a bed hogger,” you tease, gesturing to the unconscious blonde beside her. A small giggle fell from her before she got out of the bed. “Oh yeah, big time. Beds, blankets, boy has no concept of personal space… Wanna make breakfast with me?” She offered, making eye contact with you as she walked past to go to the kitchen. You couldn’t help your eyes flickering to look at her ass as you followed behind you, but you quickly looked away.

“I’m thinking… french toast… maybe some eggs,” Kie said as ran a hand through her hair. “Wow, JJ’s a lucky guy,” you reply with a small chuckle, she smiles at you before going into the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs. 

“Thank god John B has chickens, he always has eggs. Can you make sure there’s bread?” Kie asked, and you were quick on your feet.

“Got the bread,” you reply, bringing it over to her as she set a pan on the stove. She gave you a smile as she took it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was being flirtatious. 

“You ever do this before?” Kie’s voice was soft, but not quiet; gentle. “You kidding me? My dad can’t cook to save his life,” you answer, your tone is light hearted, but Kie gives you a worried look. “And…. your mom?” “Out of the picture. She’s got a new family in Chicago, and I… get to have pizza 3 nights a week,” you joke, and this time Kie smiles. “Can you crack some eggs into this bowl?” Kie asked, handing you a bowl. “That I can manage.”

After you crack a couple eggs in the bowl, you watch Kie pour some milk, then some cinnamon, and lastly she reaches for a small brown bottle. “Vanilla,” Kie explains, dropping some into the bowl. Kie hands you a fork, asking you to stir it up. “Here, watch me,” Kie says as she drops some butter in the pan, moving it around. She took a piece of bread, dipped both sides into the bowl, then dropped it into the pan. “See? Not that hard. Now you’ll know how to make french toast,” her tone isn’t judgemental, she genuinely seemed to want to help you, this took you by surprise.

You don’t respond, you just watch her flip the piece of bread in the pan until it’s golden brown, then put it on a plate. “Here, you do the next one,” Kie said as she moved out of the way. You hesitantly took her spot, and mimicked her actions dipping the bread in the bowl of egg, cinnamon, milk and vanilla. “You’re gonna want to flip it so it cooks evenly,” she said softly, before her hand covered yours with the spatula, guiding you. The whole thing felt… intimate. 

With Kie’s help, you guys made almost the whole loaf of bread into french toast. “Now, what about eggs?” Kie asked. “I like ‘em scrambled.” “Perfect, that’s my specialty,” Kie joked, rinsing the bowl clean before cracking a few more eggs into it, adding milk, salt and pepper.

While you watched her cook scrambled eggs, you heard a loud groan as JJ walked into the kitchen, still shirtless; you felt your face begin to heat up. “‘Morning,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he walked over to Kie, placing a kiss on her cheek. “French toast?” “Mmhm, taught y/n how to make ‘em,” Kie boasted, stirring the eggs. JJ turned to look at you, a sleepy smile on his face, and you felt your heart race. What was happening to you?

“You excited to catch some waves?” JJ asked, sauntering over to you. “Oh totally, so excited to faceplant,” you answer, making JJ laugh. “Man, I still can’t believe you never learned to surf.” “But who between us can replace a clutch, Maybank?” “Ouch, straight to my heart, y/n/n,” he clutches his chest over his heart, and you let out a giggle. “What’s for breakfast?” Both you and JJ turn to see Pope walking into the kitchen, wiping his eyes.

After Sarah and John B woke up, and you all ate breakfast, you loaded into the Twinkie, Sarah sitting in the passenger seat while John B drove, the four of you sitting in the back. When you got to the beach, John B and Kie wasted no time diving straight in, meanwhile you were staring hesitantly at the water. “You ready?” You turned to see JJ walked over with his old surfboard. “Already waxed her for ya.” You smile, despite the fear of what you were about to do. “Okay, so first, I want you to practice standing up on the board in the sand.” You furrow your eyebrows, “Thought you were gonna join them and I was gonna wing it?” “What? No way, I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a pro.”

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, and his kindness made you smile. JJ showed you how to go from laying down to standing up, and once you aced the movement, he took you out in the water a little bit. “Gravity’s a bit different, so same thing, just get used to the feeling,” JJ said from beside you. The water barely reached his chest, so if you fell off your board, at least it was shallow. You pushed yourself up like he showed you, but your arms wobbled a bit, JJ quickly steadied you. “Thanks,” you pant, out of breath from trying your hardest not to fall over. He gave you a nod and a smile, backing up a bit. You slowly shifted your weight to your feet, and put your arms up as you steadily tried to stand. Despite still being a bit wobbly, JJ clapped for you. “See? What did I tell you? Now we just gotta find some baby waves.” You got back down to lay on your board. “Wait here… seriously-” JJ said sternly before heading back towards shore to get his own board. He paddled out to get beside you, then sat up a bit, so you mimicked his actions.

“You’re doing a really good job for your first time,” JJ praised. “All thanks to you… Sorry you had to miss out on all the fun,” you said softly, looking over your shoulder just as Pope came up on a wave. 

“What are ya talkin’ about? As far as I’m concerned, they’re the ones missing out, all the fun’s happening right here,” JJ insisted, moving his hands between the two of you, making you chuckle. The smile on his face brought back the heat in your cheeks, so you did the only thing you could think of and splashed him, which resulting in you two going to full on war. 

After both you and JJ were properly soaked, and the laughter finally died down, you found yourself wanting more and more. JJ took you over to a spot where smaller waves were forming, and you practiced standing and moving with the wave, but you kept falling, crashing into the water. JJ never let you feel embarrassed, immediately praising what you had done right, and encouraging you to try again until finally, you rode the tiniest of waves, JJ acted like you won the super bowl.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking ‘bout, baby, yeah! Woo!” JJ cheered. You got back down on your knees and paddled back over to him. “I did it! Oh my god, I can’t believe I actually did that!” “Told you! Next time we come out here, you’ll be shredding with me and Kie.”

Your smile fell as a wave of guilt washed over you. You had been having feelings for Kie’s boyfriend, and worse, you also were having feelings for JJ’s girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be awesome,” you tried to save. “You were right, JJ, that actually was fun.” “You were right, too, by the way,” JJ said suddenly, making your eyebrows furrow. “Right about what, Maybank?” You asked. JJ smiled, almostly shyly, looking down at his board between his legs. “You’re a good kisser.”

July 9th - the fourth time.

You were working in your dad’s shop, JJ had called off, and you helped your dad by doing JJ’s work. “It’s just not like him…” Your dad said, checking the oil dipstick, wiping it clean with a cloth. “JJ’s never called out before.” “Which is exactly why you can't punish him. Shit happens, dad,” you defended despite knowing JJ was fine.

Your dad gave you a knowing look. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you and JJ are friends. He’s a good kid, y’know. And I appreciate you helping me all day. After this car you can head off early, I’m gonna close up early.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, maybe you could go check on JJ.” “Daaaad,” you whined, you knew what he was hinting at. Your dad had always had a dream of you marrying a fellow car lover.

Your phone dinged from your pocket, so you quickly wiped your hands on a rag, dirty from refilling the coolant, before grabbing your phone from your pocket.

Kie ♡: miss you xx

You smile to yourself. “Oh, now what do we have here?” Your dad teased. “Stop it, it’s Kie, JJ’s girlfriend. Who I like very much for the record. As a friend,” you quickly added.

Your dad shook his head as you turned to lean against the car. You: miss u too <3

Kie texted back almost immediately. Kie ♡: when can i see you again?

You couldn’t bite back your ever growing smile, but then another ding.

Kie ♡: if i’m being honest i havent been able to stop thinking abt our kiss Kie ♡: have you?

You felt your heart race as your eyes scanned the words over and over again. You quickly glanced to your father, busy changing an air filter. That was the last thing

You: i can’t stop thinking abt that day period Kie ♡: i’m talking to jayj rn Kie ♡: we’re at the chateau Kie ♡: could you come over? Kie ♡: no pressure xx

It took you five minutes to type out your response, despite you having made your mind up the second she asked.

You: i’m omw

The walk to the chateau was a determined one. It had only been five days since you kissed both Kie and JJ, and like Kie, the memory was plaguing your mind. You got there in 10 minutes.

When you walked through the back door into the mudroom, JJ stood up from the couch where he had been seated. Kie was sitting in the armchair on the other side.

“Hey,” JJ said first. “Hi…”

JJ cleared his throat and sat back down. You suddenly felt awkward, and foolish. You had come here with no plan, no idea of what you wanted to gain from this. “Should… Should I go, or-” JJ asked. “I’ll say it…” Kie volunteered, scooting to sit on the edge of her seat. You hesitantly walked over to sit on the chair near the door, facing them.

“For a while, like before I even met you, I had been having these… feelings. Romantic urges for women. But-But I was already with JJ, so I just tried to ignore it. Then JJ met you, and we all became friends, and I thought you were… so beautiful and funny and kind. You can ask JJ, I told him like a week after we met,” Kie rambled. “It’s true,” JJ interjected, your head moving like you were watching a tennis match. “And when you told us you liked women and men… I got this…idea,” Kie continued.You quickly put the dots together and you let out a sigh of disappointment. Your worst fear was coming true.

“Seriously? You guys want me to be your unicorn?” “What? What’s a unicorn?” Kie asked. “It’s like when a straight guy and a bisexual girl are dating and have another bisexual girl around for hooking up with,” JJ explained, which honestly impressed you. “No, no, y/n, it’s not like that at all… I… I really like you. I wanted to talk about the possibility of you dating us- well- all of us, dating together,” Kie corrected, and it took you by surprise. You turned to look at JJ, but he was fidgeting with his hat, taking it off to run a hand through his hair before turning it to be backwards.

“I- I’m sorry, so just to clarify, you want me to be your guys’ what? Side piece?”  “No, I want you to be our girlfriend, mine and JJ’s, and I’d be your girlfriend and JJ would be your boyfriend.” “A throuple,” JJ spoke up, causing you to look at him again, this time he returned your gaze, wetting his bottom lip as you two held eye contact. “But-But we’d take it slow, I guess what I’m asking is if you would go on a date with us. See how it feels, and if we all like it, we keep going on dates.”

You had been approached many times by couples, mostly your friends’ boyfriends, for one night stands or casual hook ups, but never had someone suggested dating. You didn’t know what to think. A part of you felt like it was too good to be true, like you were falling into a trap that ended in you being humiliated and heartbroken, but you also felt like it was some sort of proof, proof that everything you had been feeling for both of them was not only real, it was mutual.

“You don’t have to give us an answer right now,” JJ added.

“Yeah, right, no pressure, and if you don’t want to, that’s totally cool too, we get i-” “Okay,” you interrupted her. “Let’s do it.”

Kie’s eyes widened before a smile broke out on her lips, “Really?”

Your mouth opened, but you bit your lips as you internally debated whether or not to be honest. Your eyes moved from Kie’s, wide and excited, to JJ’s, focused and hopeful. You let out a chuckle, “I felt like I was going crazy… feeling things for both of you…” you confess, running a hand through your hair. Kie looked over to JJ before getting up to kneel in front of you, putting her hand on your knee. “You’re not crazy… I thought I was going crazy when I started having these feelings, and JJ-” Kie’s head turned to look at the blonde, now standing. “I mean, he liked you first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked from her to him, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looked away.

“So… you guys want to take me on a date?” you ask sheepishly. “How’s… tomorrow night sound?” Kie asked, a shy smile creeping onto her lips.

You looked over to JJ, he was leaning against the wall, his head down but his eyes up and on you. “Tomorrow night it is,” you answer.

©ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳᵐᵃʸᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ²⁰²⁴

[nataliawrites]

I keep thinking about Pierre Gasly and a shy reader who likes to read and paint. While he's the complete opposite of a party boy

Opposites Attract // Pierre Gasly

Four times your friends thought your relationship was doomed to fail and one time they finally understood otherwise.

One

A group of sweaty men made their way out of the grinding crowd on the dance floor and, with a lack of grace lending itself to plenty of drinks and the leftover adrenaline of a Grand Prix, shakily made their way up the stairs to the VIP area.

Among them, sprawled lazily in the extended booth they now occupied, a certain Monégasque turns to his best friend like a gossiping school girl, “that blonde was totally into you.”

The French best friend in question raises an eyebrow, “well I totally wasn’t into her.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Pierre?”

“I’m still me, Charles.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Up until a few months ago you would’ve never turned down someone as ehm well endowed as her.”

Pierre rolls his eyes, “up until a few months ago I wasn’t in a loving relationship.”

“A loving relationship in which your girlfriend stays in your hotel room while you party all night long?”

“What does it matter? Y/N gets anxious and this isn’t really her scene. She knows I would never do anything to hurt her or our relationship and she trusts me.”

“She should be here supporting you.”

“She does support me. Tirelessly. And I do the same in return by making sure she’s not forced into situations that make her uncomfortable.”

When they return to their hotel in the early hours of the morning, fairing none too well after a night of endless partying, Charles can’t help but peak into the suite that Pierre and you were sharing after Pierre was too drunk to properly shut the door.

You were still up despite the ridiculously late hour and reading a lengthy book using the warm light of a lamp on your nightstand.

Charles watches through the crack as you carefully mark your place in the novel and get out of bed to greet your inebriated boyfriend.

“Hi, Pear.”

Pierre leans in to give you a messy kiss, missing your lips almost entirely, “hello, mon coeur. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. There’s some painkillers and water by your toothbrush. And I put your boxers by the clean towels for after you shower quickly.”

“I need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Help me shower,” Pierre whines softly, “pleeeeeaaaasssseee.”

“Okay, you big baby. Let’s get you washed.”

Charles hurriedly shut the door when Pierre went to drop his pants.

Two

You paced up and down the gallery, hands linked in front of you to stop their shaking … mostly. It was your first public art exhibition and the tremendous milestone meant stepping far outside your comfort zone and into a social setting to show off your hard work.

Your eyes ran over the paintings carefully hanging on the walls for the hundredth time. They were perfect. The result of pouring your entire soul into the images that flowed from your hands and onto the canvas. Everything would be perfect. Almost everything, that is.

“How sucky that your boyfriend couldn’t be here for you.”

You turn around to face a classmate and friend from art school, “it’s not his fault. He has a job to do.”

Your boyfriend of nearly a year was going to have to miss the exhibition not matter how much you knew he wished he could be here to support you. But Formula 1 waits for no one and he was stuck on the other side of the world among the chaos that came with a race weekend.

“I’m just saying,” she throws her hands up defensively, “what about his job as your boyfriend?”

“Pierre does that daily, thank you for your concern. His attention to me whenever he isn’t actively working more than makes up for the time he dedicates to racing.”

You move to turn back around but stop and about-face, “and his dedication and passion to that part of his life are part of the reason I love him.” Then you finally spin on your heel and go back to surveying your work for any imperfections.

You were broken out of your thoughts as the curator lightly tapped your shoulder, having been ignored when she quietly called your name while you were lost in your own head.

“Miss Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. Shall I tell them to bring it in?”

A delivery? You were fairly certain you didn’t order anything though with how anxious you were as the exhibition approached, maybe you did and just forgot about it.

“Of course! So sorry. They can put it down wherever there’s space.”

You watch in shock as courier after courier after courier after courier filed their way into the gallery and places overflowing vases of every flower under the sun on the floor before going back outside and returning with even more bouquets.

When you can barely see the tile floors and the gallery looks more like a botanical garden than a low-key space to showcase art, one of the couriers approaches you and hands you a card.

I wish I could be there celebrating your achievements with you. I am so incredibly proud of you and all that you’ve managed to do. I will be carrying a little bit of you with me when I race tonight.

Love you always,

PG

You can’t stop the tears that threaten to overflow when you spot the small photo of a print of your favorite painting tucked carefully into his helmet that was taped to the card.

Your classmate makes her way into the atrium again, “Five minutes till showtime! Oh my god? Who robbed a florist.”

“No robbing,” you laugh, “just Pierre being Pierre.”

Three

Pierre excitedly opens the door to welcome his friends from around the grid into his Milan apartment for their annual visit after the Italian Grand Prix.

“Hey, guys! Come in. Y/N just went to the market to quickly get some fresh fruit.”

The group of drivers files into the foyer and stop just short of smacking into each other as they stop and take in the apartment around them.

When Pierre bought the apartment a few years ago, he immediately hired a top interior designer to take care of all the decorating. Since then, the place he called home was sleek and modern and even whiter than his AlphaTauri race suit. Nothing like the apartment his friends were currently staring at with open mouths.

This apartment was a controlled chaos of colors that should not have gone together but somehow did. The walls were lined with paintings and photographs and little hanging plants that the interior designer would have fainted at. The ceiling of the entry way had a rather impressive recreation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling … with cats instead of humans.

“This is … wow.”

“I know! Isn’t it amazing? Y/N did it all herself after she finally moved in,” Pierre gushed.

“It’s definitely unique.”

“It just feels so much more like home, you know? It took a while for her to finally believe me when I told her I wanted her to redecorate but now we both love spending time here whenever we can.”

The boys exchange wide-eyed glances as Pierre rambles on and on about all of the changes that you made. What happened to the luxurious party boy who barely remembered the names of the women that graced his bed? Since when did Pierre Gasly spend five minutes describing how you painstakingly crocheted a throw blanket to perfectly match your new couch? The mark you made on him was becoming just as clear as the mark you made on his your home.

Four

It was cruel, really. With Pierre’s home Grand Prix being left off the schedule, you had promised to join him in Austin instead. Art school was relatively flexible and you didn’t anticipate any issues taking a week off to fly to Texas.

Until a teacher suddenly announced a project that had to be completed in class during the week you were meant to be at the United States Grand Prix.

You tried to hide a sniffle as you explain that you won’t be able to support him in person to Pierre over the phone during your lunch break. You stare at your salad, pushing the greens around as any appetite escaped you.

“It’s not worth your tears, mon coeur,” Pierre’s soothing accent cracks through your speaker. “Do not even worry about it. I promise that I will take care of everything.”

You see your classmate drop into the seat next to you and wave as you finish your conversation with Pierre.

“Hi! What’s-”

“Were you seriously planning to miss a week of school to go on vacation with your boyfriend?”

“It’s not exactly a vacation.”

Your friend rolls his eyes, “Semantics. You were going to fly halfway across the world and miss a week’s worth of classes for him. He’s been a bad influence on you. You would have never dreamed about skipping even a day of class before you got together with him.”

“Being in a relationship has made me reevaluate my priorities,” you explain. “Don’t get me wrong — I love art and school is important but nothing beats being there for the people you love.”

“Whatever,” he sighs, “no use talking about it now. There’s no way you’re getting out of doing the project to go on your trip. Might as well cancel your tickets now.”

“Pierre said he’ll take care of the class so I’m not giving up hope yet.”

“Right … the second you get excused from the project is the second that pigs fly.”

You didn’t know which of you was more shocked when your boyfriend walked into the room like he owned it halfway through class the next day. He beelined towards your teacher with a purpose and you tore your attention away from the unfinished painting in front of you to watch as they talked. You can’t make out what they’re saying but see Pierre gesturing towards you and then slipping an envelope into your teacher’s hands when he gets a nod. They shake hands and Pierre makes his way to you.

He pecks your lips as your classmates’ eyes all turn to you, “Done. You’ll have an extra week to finish the project under supervision when you get back from America.”

“No way! How?”

“All it took was two paddock passes to Imola next season.”

“You’re actually the best, Pear. I love you so much.”

“Not more than I love you.” He turned to leave, “I’ll pick you up for dinner later?”

“Can’t wait, love.”

As the class dispersed an hour later, you couldn’t help bumping into your friend, “guess pigs learned to fly, huh?”

+ One

It wasn’t until the following season that his friends finally realized that you and Pierre were meant to be. You flew out to Belgium with him, knowing that Spa was especially hard for him emotionally and wanting to be there for your boyfriend. The morning of race day, you joined Pierre and the rest of the grid as they went to pay respects to Anthoine Hubert. You watched as various drivers left flowers and cards and stepped forward after they were done.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know that I never met Anthoine but I feel like I know him through all the stories Pierre tells and wanted to leave something to honor him too,” you pull a canvas out of your tote and kneel down to place it against the fence.

There’s silence as the men around you take in the portrait of a smiling Anthoine that you left among the flowers and wreaths.

Pierre pulls you in for a hug and you hold him tight as you feel your shoulder grow wet from his tears, “thank you, mon coeur. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Pierre’s friends take in the sight of the two of you lost in your embrace. Maybe you’re not who they imagined Pierre would end up with but turns out that you’re exactly what he needs.

[tonixe]

"I only have eyes for the King'

n.o.t.e.s - I have been watching some royal tv shows and movies, and it made me think of this. Also, I love kyle sm. ✩

w.a.r.n - Some Nsfw mention fluff, cheating, and violence.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Kyle Broflovski x Queen!reader ✩

w.c. - 1.1k

part two: II

A long time ago in Zaron, a young queen was ruling over the Kupa Kingdom, trying to find a 'husband' to rule but her only real intention was to produce an heir to rule after her.

You fixed your gown and your French hood, sitting down on your throne. Guard surrounding you with protection. You crossed your legs holding your head with your palm.

Your head is filled with boredom from your past suitors trying to get your attention, you sat there with boredom in your eyes. You were getting tired, as your squire and lady-in-waiting saw.

"The next suitor up is Clyde Donovan, The Duke of Kraghon" you're ellman announced. You place your head on your fisted hand on the throne bar.

Most of your suitors were old men trying to seek power. A few were young but there were merely a few royal titles, not much to bring to the table but their healthy sperm were able to create an heir to your kingdom.

The duke was one the examples of what you thought. He was young and handsome, pure, and had eyes filled with hope. But not enough to woo you short.

Soon there wasn't any suitor to read off of.

"Is it done?" you asked uncrossing your legs and looking at your officer.

"Yes, my grace" he bowed as he spoke to you.

"I'll be leaving to return to my chambers" You got up from the throne with the help of one of your guards, soon walking onto the beautiful tapestries leading down to the huge doors, that started to open by the guards, your lady in waiting following suit.

The guards, servants, officers, and political figures bowed down to you before you left the room.

Walking down the hallways in the big palace, your heels clicking onto the marble floor. Soon one of your paladin ran towards you and he stopped when spotting you, his landing audible.

"M-my grace" he stutters out

"What happened," you asked the paladin.

"My grace, the king of the elven kingdom is coming, for a talk with you," he said as he bowed down.

"Make sure to keep the knights on guard for his arrival," you said as you glanced at the blonde paladin bowing down to your feet bowing down.

"Yes, my grace" the blonde man bowed as he ran away.

"My grace," your lady-in-waiting, Princess Kenny, spoke up, her blonde hair braided into two, as she was wearing a purple dress. "Shall we start planning for the King's arrival" she spoke up.

"I suppose so; we can't show the enemy of our faults," you spoke, holding your hands together as you glanced past her. You don't have the greatest relationship with the Elf king due to past arguments with the red-headed king. The only thing you would agree with about your ex-husband would be how annoying he was.

"Kenny inform the staff of the King's arrival" you spoke softly as you look at the blonde princess.

"Yes my queen" She curtsies, walking away from you as you hear the clicking of her steps. It puzzled you how the red-headed king was coming to the kingdom, you glance at the color-stained window, adorn by the long satin red curtains.

It hasn't been this loud in the palace ever since the time that you used to be a past ruler or such would say your 'husband' has been ruling over, King Eric, the grand wizard they say.

The real person who should be dead, stealing the stick of truth and lying to his followers more than that, he lied to many kingdoms and the elf kingdom. It didn't even matter. You got your revenge on him cheating on you with Duchess Heidi Turner, destroying them both. Revenge for Cartman makes them look like a fool, while he prances around the duchess not even making it discrete from the kingdom. Painting you as to a fool.

It was because of him you did it.

Sneaking into the elf king's chamber through a beautiful rug, wrapping yourself in, only wearing an elegant, revealing nightgown that barely covered anything before you stripped yourself bare for him.

That was the first night.

But not the only night you had with the elf king, using his influence to kick your 'husband' off the throne.

The memory haunting your mind, the thought of the elf king touching your nude skin, as he kissed your delicate skin, covering your body in love bites. Kissing you passionately, your moans slipping from your lips.

While he touched you in places he shouldn't. your chastity was gone from the beginning; you didn't pass it to your husband; you gave it to his enemy and an enemy supposedly of yours.

He is supposed to be your enemy, not your lover, the history of both of your kingdoms built up a great rivalry.

But it felt like when you were with him, you were free. You always dreamed of him, and you have children together as you prance through the field of flowers with your children and on in the way. As you wrap your arms around his neck, he kisses you lovingly.

But that dream has been crushed by politics and war; as you sighed out, looking at your knights walking to the front guarding the castle.

[A few days later]

You were in your chambers, maids helping you get into your dress. You sat at your vanity, and your lady-in-waiting, Princess Kenny helped with brushing your hair and placing it on your French hood.

"You look beautiful, my queen," she said as she lifted up your lip brush to apply red paint on your lips. "Thank you, Princess Kenny" You fluttered your eyes at her, making her cheek turn pink.

After Kenny finished up your makeup, she gave you a curtsy and walked out of the room as you turned yourself to your vanity, picked up your powder puff, and applied powder to your face.

You heard knocking on the door.

"Come in," you spoke as you slipped on your white gloves.

Your paladin came in with news; you assumed, "My queen, he's here, waiting for you" As he bowed down to you, your eyes widened at the name, "I'll be there," you said, "Thank you" you looked at Butters, as you dismissed him off.

You didn't know what was going to happen in the meeting, but you were ready for anything, though for him being a past 'lover' he was just a pawn for you to play against your ex-husband.

As you powder your face some more, fixing up your makeup before you exit your chambers, your lady-in-waiting waiting outside for you as she is accompanied you to the awaiting elven king.

Your long emerald-colored dress inched from the floor as you held your hands together, walking to the council room. Making contact with the red-headed king before looking away and sitting on one of the two throne chairs in the room, Princess Kenny sitting on the council chairs.

"Shall we start?" the red-headed king said.

"Yes, we shall" you made eye contact with the king.

[agendabymooner]

melody || lh44 x ofc (1)

Summary: With her sharp eyes focused on her audience, a burlesque performer who went under the name of Melody returned to Rythme Romantique, an entertainment lounge which exclusively caters to the wealthiest people of Monaco — or in this case, to the people with a status that are recognized by all. Her three exclusive performances were meant to be a closure for her connections in the principality. Still, a certain Formula One driver saw it as an opportunity to reconnect with his former flame after two years of her absence. Felicity Vos learned that this was a rich man’s world and that he could do whatever he wanted, but she also realized that the agreement they settled on years ago was corrupted the moment he expressed his love for her. 

Content warning: Age gap, use of explicit language, possible mature content (not in this chapter), mentions of past sugar daddy/baby gone romantic relationship, possessive!asshole!Lewis mentioned, burlesque (2010) movie vibes, really shitty French-translated dialogue. 

Note: I have not watched Burlesque for a good while but I listen to shitloads of songs that give performer/singer/showgirl vibes??? I hope this works out lol. Enjoy xx

masterlist

i. million dollar man

"you're screwed up and brilliant look like a million dollar man. so why is my heart broke?"

Felicity Vos couldn’t remember the last time she made her presence known in the principality. She lived in Monaco for years as a nobody — she was just some 24-year-old woman who hoped to get through the day before she put on her best costume and makeup for work. She only performed to put money in her pocket. Living in Monaco wasn’t cheap, after all. She did everything she could to maintain her private space, working at the lounge every night to get the biggest tips from the wealthiest people in Monaco.

Nothing more, nothing less. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she was a nobody in Monaco. Had it been for her natural beauty and the typical streetwear of the principality, she would’ve stood out already, and everyone would know that Formula One’s mysterious “lady seducer” made her return to Monaco. 

She hadn’t wanted to gather that much attention now. It was bad enough that her three nights coincided with the Monaco Grand Prix weekend. She couldn’t bear the thought of being hounded by journalists curious about her absence/being for the past two years. 

I was just a nobody, she told herself. She wasn’t even anyone’s ex-girlfriend. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a stable relationship with a man. 

But everyone in the F1 community knew that she was something. That was for sure. The man's popularity and their agreement pulled her away from the anonymity she craved after ending things with him.

2019

The first thing that the bartender, her friend René, had spewed out just as she finished her performance had something to do with the beehive hairstyle she sported and how it coincided with ‘Fuck Me Pumps’ by Amy Winehouse, whose iconic style included the mentioned hairstyle. 

René told her Melody was the complete opposite of Amy Winehouse with her tattooless skin, bright blonde hair, and wide-set eyes. But Melody’s voice, René told her, was meant to sing about the men who’d fuck women over. 

Then her attention turned away from him when a server approached the speaking young adults, leaning over to tell them both about a lone man sitting on an empty booth, asking for Melody’s company as they all peered at the dimly lit corner booth. They couldn’t see if he was looking in their direction, but Felicity (Melody) could tell he was attractive. 

It wasn’t unusual for clients or audience members to request a sit-down time with the singer of the night, so Melody merely asked her coworker to serve them some drinks before walking in his direction.

His genuine smile and curiosity certainly pulled her closer if you were to ask her. She knew who he was. Lewis Hamilton. This place was Monaco, after all. What kind of a caveman would you have to be to not know who Lewis Hamilton was? Even the Neanderthals would ask for an autograph should they see him pass by.

She sat with him and asked how he was liking his stay in Monaco after the new year. In exchange, he provided answers and asked her certain questions. 

Is your name really Melody? Mmm… such an in-depth question for a stranger, don’t you think? 

Do you just sing Amy Winehouse? She was my inspiration, after all. This is how I pay tribute. Do you have a request? Perhaps I can sing it next time you visit— not that a man like you would be dead seen entering such a place.

How about you? How are you liking Monaco? Whoever said that this place was for easy living would be a liar. I get paid more than I used to, but university and rent still beg for more. 

How long have you been doing this? Four years. Singing and dancing at the same time takes a lot of practice. 

She was thankful to have been the performer to put on the middle show of the night. She hadn’t needed to worry about being the performer of the night, and her conversation with him seemed to have lasted until the end of the show. 

She expected him to not return after that night, with him leaving her two hundred euros in cash and tipping the servers the same amount— she would’ve expected him to hand this as a form of a farewell gift. 

But he offered those as a welcoming gift. Because by the next night, Melody’s eyes shifted to where he sat, only to find him leaning back against the booth seat. His head was slightly bobbing as musicians hit those 4/4 beats. He sat there while she sang beautifully, her hair teased into a beehive hairstyle, and her body wrapped around loose strings of pearls and rhinestones. 

He returned the night after that… then after… he returned for days. Apparently, Monaco had been so boring for him that he chose to spend his time listening to the beautiful voice of Melody. He later confessed that he couldn’t seem to get away from her. 

But instead of offering a date, he offered to fly her to Australia for the first round of the racing season. Fuck that. He offered to pay and give her everything— in exchange, she travels around with him during his races as a “partner.” He said it would benefit both of them if they entered this agreement. She would get the money, and he would have an increase of positivity in his image. 

Her mouth quickly slipped out the word “yes,” the next thing she knew, she was saying goodbye to her coworkers of four years. She was always welcome to perform should she decide to, and would pay her good money for her rare performances. 

Then her flat was fully paid for the next six months. Right after that, she was driven to a department store to find some clothes and bags to pack for her endless trips. She had gowns tailored and altered for her in case she needed to be in attendance for his formal and black tie events. 

She was only meant to be there as an eye candy, one that would hold hands with Lewis as he made his way down the paddock to the Mercedes garage. She had no name besides Melody. She was only Melody, and she was alright with that— she wanted to keep the privacy that she had left, after all. 

She was good at avoiding journalists and their questions about Lewis’ past relationships and his title as the Mercedes playboy. She often stayed put and kept her attention trained on him as he raced or Roscoe, who had grown dearly in her heart. She had never gone as far as sharing a conversation with his coworkers, only offering them a small smile before she walked off with a refresher in hand. The only one she seemed to have a good conversation with besides Toto Wolff was his teammate, Valtteri Bottas. But even then, she could feel his body radiate in possessiveness that she didn’t know he had. He’d always hold her close. 

He hadn’t even realized that Melody shifted from a nobody to a somebody despite not having a surname. It was quite a shame she had to embrace someone’s fame and be under scrutiny for it. 

PRESENT

“Am I seeing things, or is it really the woman who brought the glory in the Ryhtme Romantique?” Felicity shook herself out of her thoughts as she turned around and grinned, watching as René outstretched his arms. She squealed at the sight of him and jumped into his arms, earning a grunt from him as he said, “Mon dieu, ma fille, is this how Zurich and New York had treated you?” 

“This is how I greet people I miss,” Felicity exclaimed. “Not that you feel the same towards me, arsehole.” 

“Such language,” René scoffed mockingly. “I know I haven’t heard you speak like that before.” They both fell silent before laughing at the joke. She seduced like a siren, yet she swore like a sailor, René once told her. 

The 28-year-old woman waved it off, “Tell me you haven’t picked me up in Nice just so you can bring up my lack of manners? Otherwise, I’m walking away.” 

“Gah, and who’ll pick you up?” René grinned, now grabbing her suitcase and pulling it next to him. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to go to Monte Carlo knowing that they’ll hound you when alone. People aren't that subtle when it comes to you.”

“That right?” Felicity asked. She'd only performed once throughout those two years of her “relationship” with a Formula One driver. She freelanced because of how much she had missed it. She remembered having to convince him to allow her to do it for once, and she swore she never craved for something more than the lounge's music and atmosphere. 

“Yes,” René answered her, “you made your character known by everyone. Everyone knew Melody, not Felicity. Melody became a household name after her one-night appearance when everyone learned about her from Formula One. Wealthy people saw talent… and yeah. Now they’re eager to spend much money just to see you.”

This helped her grow a backbone, somehow. She continued to press on the topic, “And by that…?”

“It will be a full house,” René had already placed her suitcase in the car trunk before he stood with his chest puffed out. “One hour of you and Amy Winehouse on the stage in three nights is worth my mortgage for my house in North America.” 

Felicity chuckled and shook her head, making herself comfortable in his passenger seat with the seatbelt buckle snapping. 

“So,” Felicity leaned back against her seat before turning to the man beside her, “what did I miss in Monaco?” 

“I thought you didn’t miss Monaco?” René laughed, starting up his vehicle. 

Felicity scoffed at the comment, “I missed Monaco.” 

She just didn’t miss the man that she met in the principality. After all, she would have remained as nothing if he didn’t treat her like she was the only one. She preferred her life before she met him. She liked the way of living she had in Monaco before him.

2019

She probably should have settled for less, but what should she do? It was the only dress that he liked on her. She felt she would impose the mermaid white dress with the intricate baroque style and pearl details, but his praise and encouragement told her otherwise.

Besides, with her making a bet that lasted for an entire season, she really couldn’t chicken out of it now that Lewis got his 6th world championship. She really couldn’t disappoint him like that. 

So she became the woman of the awarding night. Wrapped around her neck was a layered pearl choker, letter L carved into gold with three teardrop-shaped pearls dangling off it, much like Anne Boleyn’s. 

Unlike the first time she appeared at the paddock, she walked into the event hall with her smile dazzling the crowd— even those photographers who seemed eager to capture the moments of the couple arriving hand in hand. She didn’t feel discomfort at all, not after all those months of feeling lost in the paddock while she tried finding her way around the Mercedes area. Angela Cullen had never worked this hard to guide someone, but she never saw Melody as an obligation or responsibility. She loved the girl, in fact. 

She was known to be quiet by the drivers in the grid. She didn’t feel comfortable speaking to everyone during the entire season as she saw how most of them looked at her. Nobody even knew who the fuck she was, just her first name- her stage name. Sebastian Vettel was kind enough to walk up close and introduce himself to her as if she hadn’t known him already. He was the closest thing she had to a comfort zone that wasn’t just Bottas, talking to him here and there whenever they passed by one another in the paddock. 

If she was being honest, she felt as if nobody knew what her job entailed as “Lewis’ partner.” Sebastian understood at the very beginning what she was to the Mercedes driver but had said nothing against nor about it. She already didn’t feel comfortable with the other drivers staring, so if he was to say anything about her relationship was just another level of friendship he’d have to reach. 

The only thing that Sebastian had offered her was, “If you’d like to have a friend that isn’t just Roscoe, I’ll be at my motorhome. Feel free to stop by anytime!” 

So by the time she arrived at the awarding with Lewis, her eyes brightened at the sight of the German driver. Sebastian waved at them, making the girl wave back eagerly. 

Lewis chuckled quietly, “I didn’t know you and Seb were friends.” 

Melody giggled in the same volume, “He considers me his best friend as of this moment. I suppose that happens when you’re not being looked at or linked to Sir Lewis Hamilton.” 

“Cheeky girl,” Lewis grinned, his touch feeling familiar to her skin as he held her soft hand. Pulling her closer, Lewis greeted everyone they’d passed by. Melody merely nodded in their direction while her smile didn’t reach her ears, barely looking away from Lewis as if he was the only man she could focus on. 

She probably should have settled for less, but Lewis wanted her to shine as much as he did that night. He was a 6-time world champion, after all. If he was shining, he made sure that she was, too.

PRESENT

With her embellished leotard and shoes sparkling under the spotlight and her face coated with confidence and seductiveness, her eyes zeroed in on the men who had just walked into the intimate environment of Rythme Romantique with a sultry smile. Some of them nearly recoiled at the expression she gave them. 

“Formula One driver had reserved tables for tonight,” René told her earlier today, “some might come back tomorrow and Sunday after their race. Their managers told Lita about you and how they’ve wanted to see you perform since they learned about you from the Mercedes team.” 

It wasn’t anything fearsome if you were to ask Melody. She only offered them a welcoming (yet seductive) smile, but perhaps they considered it quite daunting and intimidating. It wasn’t as if she was inviting them to her bed. 

She supposed that it was because of the fact that they’d stepped into her turf. She was in their place once— being in the paddock and feeling out of business? Yeah, she understood what they felt. Somehow. 

“Oh my,” she purred, eyes trained on each driver as some of them visibly gulped at the sight of her. This Dolce & Gabbana did wonders on every man she had encountered at the beginning of her performance. She was only halfway through the hour, and from what she had counted— there should be about eight men who were nervous at her presence. 

Her eyes shifted from the Ken-esque man (with his blond hair, blue eyes and pretty face) to the pair of green eyes that stared right at her and her figure. She crouched down to get to their level seeing as she was a stage higher than them. 

She did a headcount for a moment. She could see familiar faces— but most of them were older. A grin on the man behind Ken told her that it was Daniel Ricciardo. And the man next to Ricciardo was Max Verstappen. The 2021 World Champion. 

“Isn’t this a sight to see,” she chuckled almost breathlessly, her breath softly nearing her bedazzled microphone. She stared at the green eyes ahead of her, “Première fois?” First time? 

The man nodded and replied, “Oui.” 

“Et tes amis? Ont-ils déjà été ici?” How about your friends? Have they been here before? She asked, looking at the men behind him. 

“Certains d'entre eux vivent ici,” some of them live here. The man replied. 

“Est-ce que c'est oui?” Is that a yes? Melody asked with a raised eyebrow, leaving the audience to laugh. 

“Peut-être,” maybe. Charles Leclerc shrugged with a smile. She let out a giggle for a moment before nodding.

“Bienvenu,” Welcome. Melody winked. They all found their seats, but she couldn’t find the one she was looking for as she was doing a repeated headcount. Then she remembered that the corner booth had been changed to a reserved area when she left. She could only imagine who sat there. It was a seat reserved for the man who only came to the lounge to speak with her. 

Her eyes flickered at the table before turning at the drivers, “Welcome to Rythme Romantique. I hope this show eases the tension of tomorrow’s qualifying race.” 

“And I hope you’re not offended by the end of this show,” she giggled quietly, “because I’ve had men walk out of shows because of Amy Winehouse.” 

“What kind of fuckery are we?” She sang, her hips swaying as she gestured at the drivers with her gemstone-covered gloves, “Nowadays, you don’t mean dick to me.”

Her blonde hair swung as she looked toward the corner booth, “I might let you make it up to me.” 

“Who’s playing Saturday?” She winked at the drivers, hearing as the men cheered and pointed at themselves. “One of you better get a pole this time.” 

“Mr. Destiny, nine and 14. Nobody stands in between me and my man. 'Cause it's me and Mr. Jones…” 

“Me and Mr. Jones…” 

The live band had put on an end to the song and her show, every man and woman standing to applaud her. She took a deep breath before letting out a sultry smile, taking in her audience's applause and whistles. Her painted lips puckered up, and she blew a kiss to the audience, her foot picking up the fur coat that she discarded at the beginning of her show to put it on. She offered the drivers one more ‘good luck’ before walking off and heading to the bar. 

She hadn’t felt this good about performing at the Monaco Lounge since the last time she appeared in 2020. That extravagant entertainment hall at Hotel Ritz didn’t make her as happy as it should have. The richest of the richest gave her the attention and money she dreamt of when she became an adult, but something about this place made her… happier. Or rather, better about herself. 

Sharing a conversation with René hadn’t lasted long enough when a new server walked up to them to let the two know about the guest in the corner booth. 

René looked at Felicity with worry as he said, “You really don’t have to go, City.” 

“No, no,” Felicity waved off his concern, “he paid to speak and see me. I can’t really disappoint Lita now, can’t I?” 

“You’d really let your heart break like that again?” René asked her, “What if he’s actually got a girl this time?” 

Felicity merely stared at him, indifference written all over her face. Quite a facade, her face covered. René sighed exasperatedly, “Alright. I’ll get you the rum and coke. Felicity, you can back out anytime.”

“I know,” Felicity nodded, adjusting her corset with a sigh. “I’ll walk out if I want to. He lost me once, and I’ll make sure he knows he can lose me again.” 

No amount of alcohol could make her feel as relaxed as she wanted, so she settled for one glass of rum and coke only. There were a lot of things that could have happened within two years, and that didn’t exclude him. 

But god, his face remained as young as it was four years ago. It didn’t age as the years went on. 

She sat across him, the marble table the only thing separating them. He watched as she made herself as comfortable as she could be. She could tell that a smile threatened to show on his face, keeping his composure as much as an ex-lover could when they met their former flame for the first time in years. 

“Lewis,” she nodded curtly, her eyes trained on him before it shifted to the server who dropped off her drink and his. Felicity offered the server a grateful smile before it disappeared just as the younger woman left the booth.

He grabbed his drink and spoke, “Mel.”

She nearly winced at the nickname. Nobody called her Mel but him.

“When did you fly back?” Lewis Hamilton was known for many things - and being civil to anyone was one of them. She remembered how he always had to keep a straight face in the same room as his former best friend. Nico Rosberg had a fairly long history with him that ended poorly, so for him to show indifference? It was a Lewis Hamilton signature. It didn’t surprise her that he’d ask this as if he hadn’t broken their agreement long before she did. 

“Just earlier today,” Felicity answered, her voice was equally indifferent. “I flew to Nice and was picked up. I couldn’t miss the ride at the French Riviera.”

“You’ve always liked the scenery,” Lewis chuckled, sipping his drink before setting it on the table. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you,” Felicity nodded.

“Like you always did,” Lewis continued, not even caring about the small expression that eventually fell off as he spoke.

“Hm, really?” Felicity almost scoffed with a shake of her head. “Last time we were together, I wasn’t even allowed to be near a stage.”

“You were with me,” Lewis pointed out, “flying worldwide. As you wanted and had agreed on.”

“I had to get drunk enough to get up the bar counter and sing my arse off just so you’d have no control of it,” Felicity reminisced, grinning at herself when she recalled the moment. 

Silverstone GP afterparty, the year 2020. She wasn’t as drunk as he was, but she grew enough backbone to ask for a microphone and Christina Aguilera’s Candyman on the bar’s speakers – max volume. She remembered her feet moving like they were all swing dancing and being hoisted off the bar counter by Daniel Ricciardo while they all drank and her voice hit the falsetto. The drivers were rather impressed regardless of the amount of alcohol they consumed. Lewis wasn’t as impressed as the others. He’d seen it before. He hadn’t appreciated how easily she made friends with the men around her – so seeing her shy away from them the next race was a win for him. 

“I couldn’t stop you even if I did,” Lewis laughed as if it was a normal conversation. “Everyone’s way into it.”

Felicity almost laughed at his face. He stopped her when she agreed to become his company, practically handing her her year’s worth of rent and salary just as she nodded. He stopped her rhythm from flowing, but she allowed it as she wanted to live an easier life. One where she didn’t have to be taunted by her family’s constant words of discouragement. It turned out that being someone’s pretty young thing wasn’t as easy if you fell for the unattached man. 

He leaned back, observing the sight before him before asking, “Did Switzerland and America treat you right?”

Her head shot up at the question before asking in return, “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes, please,” Lewis answered genuinely. He hadn’t expected to last an hour in the bar, let alone thirty minutes in the same booth as her. He could remember how his lack of commitment and false confessions destroyed her, and he wasn’t sure he could see her in that place anymore. But he stayed in his seat, watching as she practically inhaled her spiked drink before she settled it on the table. 

Crossing her legs, she wrapped her coat tightly around her body as the temperature at the booth decreased. She replied, “I was more than surprised that you found someone who could immediately fly me to another country just so I can sing far from the principality.” 

Felicity could remember the email sent to her by some management in Zurich and New York. They were interested in meeting with her because of a recommendation from a musician who had seen her perform more than twice. It didn’t take her long to realize it was Lewis’ doing. She had ended whatever it was a week before the email was sent, so it was his doing. But rather than fuming at the thought that he was more than willing to send her away from Monaco, she immediately contacted them and took whatever they had to offer. 

“I lived here for four years,” she scoffed, “before I even met you. This was my home. I can’t even consider my flat in New York as such.”

“What’s your plan then?” Lewis asked. “Are you planning to return to Monaco then?”

“And return to this lounge? Where most drivers would probably frequent in when they learn that Melody’s back in town?” Felicity snorted, “I’d rather not.”

“Why not?” He asked, “You love this place.”

“I do,” she stood up, noticing how his eyes became more cautious as she cleared her throat, “I am tired of the chasing I had to do, though. It’s not always me who has to work on it. Sometimes, they have to chase the woman, too. It’s not a one-way street for me anymore. Good luck tomorrow–”

“Wait,” her goosebumps rose when she felt his hand touching her skin, turning back when he pulled on her wrist as she watched him stand. He pulled out an envelope, leaving the package in her hand as she gripped it lightly. Lewis nearly stammered, “Invite whoever you want.”

“I’m not going, Hamilton,” she couldn’t even shove it back to him as he held her wrist, squeezing it lightly as a sign of plea. Just be there tomorrow. And Sunday.

“It’ll only be two days,” his voice might’ve shown nothing of desperation, but his eyes pleaded with her. “Two days of racing and your shows.”

She sighed exasperatedly. She was already exhausted from having to pretend that this was okay. She really hadn’t wanted to see him. But this was Monaco, and this weekend was the principality’s race weekend, so she could have at least prepared herself mentally.

“I’ll see what I can do,” was all she muttered before pulling away from him as she walked out of the booth with a murmur of, “Good night.” 

She was certain that this jetlag of hers wouldn’t wear out. Not when this weekend was a case of clusterfuck that was going to leave her restless. She wasn’t excited to know what would come her way at the very end of this week.

PS. what did you think? Send me an ask!

[gaysindistress]

Sad Girl

summary: James has an interesting new business’ proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with. 

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing... for now

word count: 1.8k

authors note: This is my first time posting so please let me know if you want to rest of this series!

series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Angry foot steps stomp through the large hallways and up the marble stairway. Raised voices try to alert the others that she is coming and is fuming. She waves a manicured hand above her head, telling them to shut the fuck up before she takes her anger out on them. Her heels nearly crack the marble as Scott trails after her, trying to get her to slow down.

“Ma’am please stop,” he gasps, lot of breath from chasing her through the foyer. 

She stops, taking a deep breath, and turns to look down at him. The diamond “S” of her necklace swings as the pearls and chain barely leave her skin. Her hair nearly whips Scott from the force of her turn. 

“Oh Scott it’s too late to reason with me. I’m already seeing red so why don’t you be a good boy and open that door before I tear it down,” she says eerily clam, pointing to the door in question at the top of the staircase. 

“I… I can’t do that,” he stutters. 

Her black french tips rub the headache coming on as she closes her eyes, “Yes, yes you can. Now go.”

The movement from her arm causes her black outercoat to open slightly and the holster with its accompanying gun flashes every so slightly. Scott’s eyes go straight to it, knowing that she would never pull it on him but the men she’s after are an entirely different question. Scott just nods, climbing the stairs around her as he curses himself for taking this job and dealing with such horrible people.

Once he reaches the door, he gives it a heavy push causing the room to go silent at the intrusion. There is a large oak desk towards the back of the room, crowded by men who all look the same. The head of the family is sitting behind the desk in an even larger throne-like chair, two giants at his sides. The men doing business with him are lounging in the oversized chairs in front of the desk. They too have men flanking their sides as if to say “fuck around and find out”. A woman typing feverishly at a computer is the corner and doesn’t even look at Scott because her job is not stop typing no matter what happens. The room also houses two couches and a coffee table for the “easier” business dealings, at least that’s what the family head says. 

Scott makes eye contact with the head, “she’s here and pissed.”

The head just nods and gestures to one of his side men. He starts to say something to him when the woman in question slides behind Scott, one hand on his shoulder and the other on her hip. 

“Hello, Dad.”

He smiles, “Hello, Darling. We were just finishing up.”

She lets out a sinister laugh, “Like hell you were. Did you really thing you could get away with doing all of this shit without me present?”

She gently pushes Scott out of the room, shutting the door in his face before walking towards the bar her father had installed to fuel his drinking habit. Grabbing 4 glasses and an amber bottle, she makes her way to the desk, not saying a word as if to dare any of the men to utter something. She pours a drink for each glass and hands her dad a glass. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be involved in all of this,” her dad states as he takes the glass and leans back in his throne.

Ignoring her dad, she turns to the men and gestures towards the glass, silently saying “go one and take one”.

“You know you aren’t supposed to offer your daughter up as collateral when you fuck up a business deal,” she offers over her shoulder as she takes a sip from her glass, leaning against the desk, “now which one of you fools actually agreed to this deal?”

The brunette is watching her and taking in every detail she has to offer, willing and accidentally. The blonde sits up a bit straighter and readjusts his suit jacket under his overcoat. 

“No one has agreed to anything yet, Miss. Stark,” the blonde says, crossing his hands in his lap. His watch peaks out from under his sleeve, shining under the natural light from the window. A slight glint bounces of his finger and she makes note of the pinky signet ring he wears. 

“Darling we were just about to sign the papers, so if you could leave that would be great,” Mr. Stark’s voice is growing slightly impatient at his daughter’s invading presence. 

“Don’t you want your business partner to see what prize he won for saving your ass, dad?” the last word is meant to land like a dagger in his heart but his unbothered face proves it does little to change his mind. 

“Don’t you think they might want an inspection? You know to make sure their new property isn’t damaged,” she sneers as she sets her glass and down and begins to take off her overcoat. 

“I’m sure they would love to make sure there are any structural flaws that would render their property useless,” she continues to shed her blazer, leaving her with her holster and v neck blouse. Her necklaces are now shining in all of their glory from the sun and the gun strapped to her ribcage makes everyone stand on high alert. 

“Stop,” is the single word that leaves Mr. Stark’s lips and now the impatience is growing to the surface. 

The men to his side step forward when they spot her gun and the men behind her step closer to their bosses. The blonde and brunette share a look as they both chuckle under their breath at the display of defiance and anger. 

“You are not property so stop referring to yourself as a real estate transaction.” 

The gun is pulled from the holster as she slips the holster off and tosses it on the desk beside her jackets. She points the revolver at her dad’s forehead as she shakes her head. 

“Then don’t treat me like I am one. I am your daughter so start showing me some respect and call of this deal.”

“Doll put the gun down,” the brunette says from behind her. 

“Doll?” she questions as she drops the revolver and turns to look at him, “Don’t call me by some pet name, Barnes. Use my name if you really want to talk to me or did you forget what it was considering you’re too dim witted to see what that contract actually entails.”

A shift in the air around her causes her to look to her right as the blonde takes the revolver from her hand and sets it on the desk. He towers over her, looking down as he scans her face. 

“We already made the necessary changes, Miss. Stark. I can assure you James and I are well aware of what we are getting ourselves into. Is there something you might want to add?” he says to her and her only. 

She scoffs at his pretend nice attitude and goes to push him away but his hand pins hers to his chest. 

“Do you want to make any changes?” he whispers again, blue eyes boring holes into her eyes. 

“Yeah take me out of it,” she whispers back and rips her hand from his. 

“Wanda!” the woman typing looks up at the sound of her name, “I have one thing that I want to add. If he harms me in any way, I reserve the right to cut his dick off, leave and nothing happens to my family.” 

The blonde continues to watch the enigma of a woman in front of him as she tries her hardest to not shot her father, him, and everyone else in this room. 

“Define harm,” Wanda asks, still typing. 

“If he lays a hand on me, breaths wrong, looks at me wrong, says something I don’t like, anything that I don’t like,” she replies and pushes past the blonde to steal his chair. 

The blonde chuckles again when it’s his turn to lean against the desk and glance between his friend and her. 

“She’s gonna be a real handful,” James states as he stands, “can we sign the papers and get out of here?” 

Confusion flashes across the woman’s face for a second but it returns to her resting bitch face. 

Mr. Stark nods his head, handing  James a pen as the blonde slides out of his way for him to sign the contract. 

“Um excuse me? Why the fuck are you signing?” she questions, pointing a finger at Barnes, “Isn’t Rogers the one my dad made the deal with?”

James takes a look at her before going back to finish signing the papers in front of him. Rogers, the blonde, hands back her hostler, blazer, and overcoat before speaking, “James and I both made a deal with your dad. In exchange for our protection and resources, we will receive a portion of his earnings from Stark Industries. For extra reassurance that he wouldn’t cross us, he gave me his vibranium supplier and he gave you to James.” 

Silence fills the room. She stares daggers at Rogers, slicing her way to Barnes before settling her knives on her father. 

“You gave me up instead of some other supplier?” she nearly screamed at her father as the two men at his side quickly grab her by the arms. All sense of self preservation and elegance has left her body as she thrashes in their hands and desperately tries to keep her sobs in. 

“You chose a fucking supplier relationship over me?” 

Mr. Stark ignores her as he signs his name and passes the papers off to Rogers. He shakes James’ and Rogers’ hands before stalking his way towards his daughter. 

“You are my daughter so start fucking acting like it. You knew this was going to be your life when I found you begging on my door step. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at your mother for leaving you for drugs,” he whispers through clenched teeth into her ear. 

Her eyes had welled up with tears but her father’s words freeze her, only one escaping down her cheek. Mr. Stark makes a motion with her hand and the men release her on unsteady feet. She stumbles forward into her father’s arms. 

He wipes the tear away, pulls her into a death grip hug and soothes her hair down as he whispers in her ear again, “James is the lesser of two evils. He won’t hurt you if you play the part. You know I wouldn’t let any undeserving harm come to you. Now go pack a bag and get ready to leave with him.”

He pulls away, keeping her at arm’s length and pretends to check over her as a good father would if his babygirl was upset. All she does, all she can do is nod, pick up her dropped jackets, and walk out of the room. All eyes are on her as the head strong façade crumbles in front of them, leaving behind the frightened little girl she really is. 

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (7)

Chapter 7 — Mr. And Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 7,856

Summary: There is more than meets the eye, and Bucky is suspicious. What is everyone hiding?

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, brief nudity? (blink and you'll miss it)

Note: Sorry, it's been a while. Enjoy!

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

"Today I know that such memories are the key not to the past, but to the future."

— Corrie Ten Boom

May 4th, 2018

He never understood what triggered it, but he found himself reliving it at odd times. The figure always sneaked up on Bucky in his dreams with an eerie silence, draped in shades of gray and brown.

"You really don't remember me?" the figure would taunt.

Bucky's responding grin was almost derogatory. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to?" He dismissed the flicker of familiarity attempting to crawl up his spine.

"You've changed."

He chuckled, deciding to humour the person. "Have I now?"

"You used to keep your promises."

"Did I?" Bucky slowly loosened the restraints behind his back, reaching for the concealed metal in his waistband. "You hit my head pretty hard earlier. I don't remember much."

"At least you kept your stupid sense of humour."

Bucky scoffed, spitting out the blood that pooled in his mouth from his bleeding nose. "You think you know me?"

"I do."

He shook his head. "You don't," he retorted. "You don't know me." The click of the safety turning off made them both pause. "And you never will." Years of training propelled him into action. The figure collapsed on the floor before the gunshot could reverberate through the room.

He stood tall over the lifeless form. "I always keep my promises."

May 4th, 2018

Bucky was beyond pissed. So far, his entire day had passed attending to one matter or another, making call after call instead of getting to know his wife. Not that she was in a state to talk.

Hmm, his little wife had been unconscious for nearly eighteen hours since she fainted in church. Bucky would have been seriously concerned if it weren't for the French maid and her reassurances. Fran—was that her name?—had informed him that the girl hadn't slept properly in over a week. Stress, she claimed, though Bucky suspected a deeper meaning behind the word. The way the maid narrowed her green eyes and tilted her reddish-blonde head hinted at something more.

The mobster took large swigs of Scotch straight from the decanter. Earlier, when the flight attendant came by to pour him a glass, Bucky had unleashed his rage, barking at him to leave the whole thing and disappear. He was in no mood for small talk.

A pounding headache throbbed in Bucky's temples. The entire day had been a whirlwind of problems. First, waking up to discover Phil Coulson dead. Dealing with Rollins' men—though that was stress relieving, at least.

Then, being brutally attacked outside the church, resulting in the need to dispose of the body in the East River, where the strong currents would erase any traces of foul play.

And let's not forget the spectacle that was his wedding. Fuck. The fucking wedding. And the shitshow that followed after. Bucky had so many questions. So many things he needed to address.

He hadn't been married a day, and already his wife was causing him problems. Bucky was exhausted, drowsy, and to make matters worse, he was overwhelmingly aroused.

With a scowl, Bucky downed the last of his Scotch, then glanced at his watch to see if he had enough time to address his growing... predicament.

He didn't.

They would reach Constanţa in half an hour, the estate in one. Bucky couldn't wait. Suddenly, his phone lit up with an incoming call, causing him to huff before ending it. Not even a minute passed before Danial Burgundy's caller ID appeared again. God, the man was persistent. After ignoring twelve calls, he still tested Bucky's patience.

"What do you want, you sick fuck?" Bucky answered impulsively.

The man on the other end sounded amused. "Hello to you too, James."

"Cut the bullshit, Danial. I'm in no mood for small talk." Danial was the last person Bucky wanted to talk to, especially after their conversation in New York. The older man was lucky he was Bucky's father-in-law now, or he'd already be six feet under.

"Right. Straight down to business then," Danial sighed. "I want to speak to my daughter."

Bucky scoffed dismissively. "No ace."

Annoyance tinged Danial's response. "Don't tell me—"

"She's taking a nap," Bucky interrupted. "She can't talk right now."

"I don't fucking believe you, James."

"I don't care." Bucky didn't give a damn about what Danial thought of him.

"Listen, asshole," Danial began losing his temper, "I know you've always been a good-for-nothing motherfucker, but—"

"Is that why you gave her to me?" Bucky taunted, a sardonic grin on his face. "Is that why you gave me everything?" That seemed to silence Danial, at least for the moment.

"Because I'm a good-for-nothing motherfucker?" Bucky chuckled, acknowledging a minor defeat. "I'll admit, you caught me off guard before with the stipulation you threw in my face, but don't think you have the upper hand here." Adrenaline coursed through Bucky's body as he further provoked Danial. "I got what I wanted. I didn't even have to work for it. You handed it to me on a silver platter." He prepared himself for the final blow. "In fact, I've already begun fulfilling that condition of yours." Bucky clicked his tongue. "No complaints so far. She's amazing."

"You bastard!" Danial exploded.

Yes, Bucky was being vulgar. Danial had forced his hand to leave for their honeymoon two days earlier, and Bucky didn't appreciate it.

He hushed Danial. "You'll wake her up. I tired her out. She needs all the rest she can get."

And there it was, the silent row of defeat. Danial sighed, audibly distressed. "She's still my daughter," the coward insisted.

"No, she's not," Bucky retorted, not to mock but to state a fact. He shrugged nonchalantly. "She's not yours. Not anymore. She's mine. She became mine the second I signed your papers."

"You Barnes' have always been greedy," Danial sneered. "Wanting what's not yours. Not giving a shit who gets hurt in the process. Fucking murderers."

"And you Burgundys have always been manipulative bastards," Bucky spat. "Pulling underhanded shit. Whoring out your women for a quick buck."

"You little—"

"Then that's exactly how I'll treat her. Like a slut, a fucking whore."

Danial's breath hitched on the other end of the line.

Bingo.

"No! Wait, no! Barnes, don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare fucking touch her—"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Bucky ended the call.

The moon hung low in the sky, making way for the impending sunrise in a couple of hours. Bucky tossed his phone onto the seat opposite him and turned his attention to the porthole, gazing out at the soft glow beginning to fill the horizon.

They should be flying over Pitești by now, en route to Constanța. It felt good to be back home. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, contemplating Danial's reaction. If he didn't know any better, he might have mistaken Danial's tone for genuine concern about his daughter. Fortunately, Bucky knew better. With most of Danial's cards laid out on the table, Bucky would respond accordingly, starting with his bride.

Suddenly, the cabin door opened, causing Bucky to whip his head around, prepared to unleash his anger on the intruder. It was his bride, leaning against the entrance of the small bedroom at the back.

She still wore her wedding dress, barefoot and breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and hair rumpled. Her gaze wandered around the cabin in a daze, clutching the door frame in a white fist when the plane encountered slight turbulence.

"You're awake," Bucky broke the silence.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she took in their location. "Where am I?" she croaked.

Bucky frowned, realizing she must be thirsty. "Sit," he commanded instead of answering. His wife blinked owlishly, staring at him as if he had grown another head. A faint smile threatened to emerge. "Don't make me drag you here," he muttered. "Because I will."

His wife snapped to attention, unsteadily walking across the aisle, leaning against the empty seats for support. The image stirred something pleasurable in Bucky's mind. She halted across from him, hesitating to sit when she noticed his phone perched precariously on the edge of the armrest.

When Bucky reached over to retrieve the device, he let his arm brush against her leg. It was a gentle graze against the white lace that, nonetheless, left her flustered. Bucky smirked, savouring the sound of his wife's hitched breath.

The girl slowly lowered herself onto the brown leather, almost robotic in her movements. Her back remained rigid, and she wouldn't look at him. Why wouldn't she look at him? Bucky didn't like that. The table separating them was the only thing preventing him from reaching over and forcing her eyes to meet his.

Bucky pressed the overhead call button, his gaze fixed on the girl. He noticed black smudged under her eyes and lipstick smeared around her mouth. How many hours had it been since the ceremony? Too many and not enough. Her features appeared more striking in the natural light than in the harsh illumination of the church.

And there, when her eyes flicked up ever so slightly at the sound of the call button, Bucky recognized that same dead look from before, the one she had when he leaned in for a kiss that never happened because she fainted. It was more subtle, tamped down, but still present, difficult to ignore and even harder to comprehend.

Bucky summoned the flustered flight attendant and ordered food, water, and another Scotch. He may not have been hungry, but he assumed she was.

"Drink," Bucky pushed the glass of water toward her. She was playing with her fingers, gaze fixed on her lap.

"Where am I?" she breathed.

Bucky frowned when she didn't immediately comply. "Drink," he demanded with more force, pushing the water closer. He watched as she brought the glass to her lips with trembling hands and took a small sip.

"Where—"

"More," he interrupted with dissatisfaction. She was an impatient one.

Bucky thought he heard her huff in annoyance but disregarded it as she began to take hesitant sips that soon turned into large gulps, causing water to trickle down the sides of her mouth.

The glass was empty within seconds.

"We're in Constanța," Bucky answered her earlier question.

She looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. Bucky was hit with a sudden urge to kiss her.

"Excuse me?"

"Constanța, Romania," Bucky clarified. "I have a family house in Mamaia. We'll be landing in ten minutes."

Bucky leaned back in his seat and sipped his Scotch, raising an eyebrow at the girl's obvious shock. The slight burn of alcohol felt pleasant, immediately relaxing him.

She glanced around the cabin, blinking owlishly. She seemed flustered. "I don't have—" She took a deep breath. "Why are we in Romania?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile. "Why do you think? What do newlyweds usually do after getting married?"

He waited for the realization to dawn on her, watching as she trembled and shied away. Bucky wondered how experienced she was if a simple innuendo left her so flustered. He couldn't wait to find out.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Where's my father?" the girl asked, her question directed at the floor.

It appeared the Burgundy princess was close to her last remaining parent. "Danial?" Bucky sneered, unable to suppress his annoyed scoff. "In New York, where he belongs."

She seemed taken aback. Her lips parted, and she straightened her posture in attention.

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Flustered, she started to answer but then froze, her eyes wide with an emotion he couldn't quite discern. She shook her head furiously. "Nothing."

Bucky's suspicion grew tenfold. He was ready to interrogate her, but she interrupted him.

"And my friend?" she asked desperately. "Where is she?"

"Hmm," Bucky mused. "The blonde with the big mouth?" He missed the expression on her face as he finished the rest of his drink. "Dove, was it?"

"N-no," the girl denied. "She's French."

It took a second for Bucky to recall, and once he did, he couldn't help but smile.

"The French maid? She stayed with you after the ceremony. I talked to her about—"

"Well, is she here?" the girl cut him off.

Bucky met her eyes, and the second he did, she averted her gaze. Acting on instinct, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You interrupted me."

He watched as her breath quickened and her irises dilated. Bucky waited for a verbal response, but she remained frozen, struck dumb by his intimidating presence. "You're lucky you're cute," Bucky said, finally releasing her.

She seemed to deflate the second he retreated from her personal space and mirrored his relaxed posture, melting into her seat as if suddenly drained.

"Eat," Bucky ordered, pouring a finger's worth of Scotch into his glass and pushing it toward her.

An indescribable tension filled the air, an unspoken awkwardness. Which was to be expected, Bucky supposed, since this was their formal introduction. The girl shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she whispered.

Bucky downed the rest of his Scotch, keeping his gaze fixed on her. Her discomfort in his presence was palpable, incredibly aware of him with how she uncomfortably squirmed in her seat.

"Eat," he repeated, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. The girl obediently picked up the fork, ready to dig into the food. The meal consisted of a variety of fresh fruits, sweet and savoury pastries, and various breakfast proteins. She nibbled on a melon, taking such small bites that Bucky became frustrated.

The pilot's voice came through the overhead speakers, announcing their impending arrival, and the flight attendants prepared for landing.

"Shall I pack this to go, Mr. Barnes?" the female attendant asked, gesturing toward the untouched breakfast.

Bucky nodded. "Has the car arrived?"

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. Also, the police commissioner is waiting for you on the tarmac, per your request."

Bucky hummed. "Good." He retrieved his wallet and handed a few hundreds to the male attendant, who was closer. "For both of your discretion," he explained, referring to his previous phone calls.

"Thank you!" The attendant quickly pocketed the money, and the area was swiftly cleaned. The table between Bucky and the girl was folded and moved out of the way.

"Mrs. Barnes?" the female attendant called. "Mrs. Barnes, please fasten your seatbelt."

Bucky watched as the girl stared blankly at the attendant. "What?"

"We are preparing to land," the attendant explained, struggling to hide her bewilderment.

After a few more uncomfortable moments, Bucky leaned forward and fastened her seatbelt himself, ensuring it was secure. She tensed under his touch, but he ignored it, both amused and annoyed by her reaction to him.

He would need to rectify that later. There was no sound reason for a woman to be so cold toward a man. But for now... They needed to discuss more pressing matters, starting with why she...

Vaguely, Bucky recalled a drunken whisper from his father regarding the Burgundys. Something he had said after one too many drinks. "Their manipulations killed your grandfather."

Bucky hadn't comprehended it at the time, but perhaps he did now. He remembered his conversation with Danial. Surely, any offspring of Danial's would be just as cunning and manipulative as him.

Bucky would uncover the truth if it was the last thing he did.

May 4th, 2018

The car ride from the airport was filled with silence. The girl had lost her appetite but was picking at her food at the behest of her husband, who was engrossed on his phone. She took small, reluctant bites of the fruit, struggling to keep it down.

Husband. The word brought a welling of tears to her eyes. She fought to hold them back as she felt his penetrating gaze upon her. Was this how prey felt just before they were pounced upon by their predators?

James was a prevalent man, it seemed, if the Romanian Chief Commissioner himself came to the runway to greet the newlywed couple on their recent nuptials. The commissioner discreetly pledged his unwavering loyalty to them, and they exchanged handshakes.

"If you need anything," James assured him, "don't hesitate to reach out. You have my number."

They were on their way to James' villa, situated on the outskirts of the city and nestled in a little strip of private land. It was a secluded house meant to provide the newlyweds with privacy during their honeymoon. James had explained this to her before diving straight into his work.

Honeymoon. The girl felt a bout of fear wash over her at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with a murderer.

Oh God! Would she have to...? Bile rose in her throat. Fleur had warned her that the first time could be painful if both partners weren't ready. She vividly remembered the almost-kiss with Nathan two weeks ago—the anticipation, the push and pull. The immense relief when their moment was interrupted.

No, she wasn't ready at all.

Horror struck her. If Nathan, the university's golden boy, could stoop so low as to drug her, what would James be capable of? James, with his imposing stature and intimidating presence, his unconventional upbringing and violent tendencies. He was involved with the mafia! And now she belonged to him, bound by the laws of God and man.

He would force himself on her and take what he wanted. After the events of the past week, She wouldn't have the strength to fight him. She would lie there, helpless, as another piece of her soul withered away. At this rate, she wasn't sure how much more she had left to lose.

Bile rose even higher, but she forced it back down. Through the tinted window of the Escalade, the Romanian landscape flashed by, though she could not find solace in its fleeting beauty. The unfinished food sat neglected as they finally arrived at their destination.

The house was beautiful. Its dark exterior was adorned with soft lights hanging from nearby trees, creating a mesmerizing canopy that resembled a starry sky. Nestled behind trees and overlooking a meticulously landscaped garden, the two-story Spanish-style building exuded charm and elegance.

It seemed like a place she could one day call home... but she hated it.

The car faltered to a stop on the smooth cobblestone driveway, and the girl was so enraptured by the view that she didn't see James at her side until he opened her door and extended his hand.

She hesitated. Of course, she hesitated. Her father had sold her to this man as part of his despicable retirement plan. A man responsible for her mother's death. Perhaps he would be the one to eventually kill her as well. She didn't want to touch the hands that would bring about her demise, nor did she wish to meet the eyes that would watch the light in her own slowly fade.

Fear took over, and she let him help her out of the car. Clutching her skirt in her free hand, she took cautious steps, mindful not to trip over the fabric that now grazed the pavement without the support of her tall heels. It was then she realized she was still barefoot.

James barely acknowledged her, offering only a quick nod. His grip on her wrist remained firm and unyielding as he guided her pliant form around. They passed stone figurines portraying scantily clad fairies, a white deer with golden antlers, and fire-breathing dragons. They crossed over a small bridge above a flowing stream, with a seating area to their right and a vibrant array of flowers that tied the scene together.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over her as they reached the threshold. Like countless other girls, she had dreamed of her perfect wedding. She envisioned her lover cradling her in his arms, gazing at her adoringly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he carried her into their new home. Never did she imagine being dragged by her arm, trailing behind a husband she did not love, and into a house she never wanted to call home.

James released his grip on her wrist as they entered the foyer, and the girl exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. And if his touch provided even an inkling of comfort in this strange and unfamiliar place? Well, it was promptly ignored.

A few servants had gathered at the entrance to welcome the young couple. A frail older woman dressed in splashes of red and white stepped forward. "Ai venit devreme," she grumbled, her shoulders stiff and an ugly frown etched on her face.

"Scuze," James replied.

"Cum a fost zborul?"

"Lung."

"Trebuie să fii obosit."

"Nu prea."

The woman's eyes flicked toward the girl. "Ea trebuie să fie obosită."

James and the woman studied the girl until she warmed with shame, realizing they were talking about her.

"Poate," James grumbled, and they looked away.

The older woman suddenly embraced James, running her arms down his back. "Bine ați venit acasă, domnule Barnes!"

The girl was surprised to see a smile on James' face. The sight made her pause, and she tilted her head in contemplation. In her dreams, the monsters that appeared as smokeless fire, mocking her pain and suffering, never smiled. Yet here was one of those monsters standing before her in the form of a husband, smiling, laughing, displaying emotions she did not believe him capable of.

"Bunică!" James kissed the older woman's hand before gently touching it to his forehead as a sign of respect. Ah! So she was his grandmother. The girl understood that much Romanian. "Mi-a fost dor de tine!"

Their attention was solely on each other, and as if compelled, the girl found herself stumbling backward, one step at a time. It was an instinctive reaction to the turmoil festering in her gut, threatening to drown and suffocate her.

"She's not wearing shoes," a voice with a thick accent remarked.

The girl froze in place. James' grandmother looked at her pointedly, with a kind of resentment the girl couldn't comprehend.

James gestured toward the girl's stiff figure. "Bunică, this is—"

"I know who she is," Bunică snapped. "I can smell a Burgundy from a kilometre away."

"Bunică," James warned in a low tone.

"I want to know why she isn't wearing shoes."

The girl consciously flexed her toes, trying to hide them beneath her dress. Her feet were dirty and sore from walking across the tarmac and then from the car.

Bunică circled the girl, closely scrutinizing her. "Well? Can you speak, girl? Or are you going to stare at me dumbly all day?" For a slighter woman, she was very assertive.

"Bunică," James warned once again.

"I just want to know if Danial gave you a mute bride. I wouldn't put it past him."

"She can speak," James snapped. "Say something."

The girl raised one arm in an awkward wave. "Salut." Shame filled her immediately after having obeyed him.

Bunică narrowed her eyes. "You speak the language?"

The girl vigorously shook her head.

Bunică turned to James for confirmation. "She doesn't," James replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Nu mă face cu ochii aia mari! How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma—?"

"Bunică," James interrupted. "Why don't we talk in the study?"

The girl trembled from the number of accusations and verbal abuse hurled at her. She didn't know what she had done to deserve such treatment, but it obviously had something to do with her father.

Bunică gave the girl one last piercing look before abruptly walking away. Her eyes stung at the harsh treatment she was receiving from this stranger. If the grandmother was like that, how unpleasant would James be? She didn't want to find out.

James strode toward her, firmly gripping her arms. "Yelena will show you to my room. Get comfortable and wait for me there." He paused as if considering his words carefully. "Don't leave."

From one prison to another. Perhaps it wasn't such a drastic change from New York. He shoved her into someone else's arms without waiting for a response and hurriedly strode away to catch up to his Bunică.

Yelena was a sturdy young woman with broad shoulders and a slender waist. A dirty blonde braid rested atop her heart-shaped face, with round eyes and pink lips adding to her appealing features. "This way," she said in a thick, palatal Russian accent.

The girl followed Yelena further into the house and up the stairs. The Spanish-style villa boasted ample natural light with contrasting dark accents. Climbing the stairs, they reached a small hallway that led to a pair of doors.

"The master suite," Yelena announced, pushing open the double doors with a flourish and guiding the girl inside. Coming to a stop in the middle of the spacious room, the girl took in the striking contrast of grays, blacks, and earth tones that adorned the bedroom. Floor-length mirrors adorned one wall parallel to the bed, and a set of French doors leading to a small balcony graced the far side of the room. Cool air swept in from the open door, causing the girl to shiver as her heated skin lowered in temperature.

"Your luggage has already been brought up, and a warm bath has been drawn," Yelena informed her, closing the balcony doors when a strong gust of wind carried in some leaves.

The girl nodded but gave no reply, locking herself in the bathroom. It was spacious, surpassing the size of her room back in Vancouver. It exuded luxury, resembling something out of Architectural. Marble floors, wooden accents, twin vanities facing each other, a rain shower at one end, and a window overlooking the black sea at the other. And in the middle of it all, made prominent by the red rose petals scattered around, was an oval bathtub brimming with steaming water.

The girl approached the tub, hoping to relax her weary muscles and wash away the stress of the past few weeks, when something caught her eye. Folded neatly on a stool next to the tub were two engraved robes, a flash of gold against matte black. One bore the inscription "Mr. Barnes." She held her breath. While the other said, "Mrs. Barnes." She felt a sudden confusion, momentarily forgetting how to breathe—was it inhale, exhale, inhale, or the other way around?

She gave a frustrated cry and began tugging at her dress, the only barrier preventing her from resurfacing. From breaking through the layers of hurt and deceit, to feeling the fresh air on her skin, in her lungs. She kicked harder—clawed savagely, but her legs felt lifeless—her fingers weak, and try as she might, she couldn't swim to the surface—couldn't breathe.

The dress clung to her like a second skin, too tight in some places and loose in others. She reached for the zipper at the back but couldn't find it—couldn't break free of her cage. Another cry of frustration escaped her as she dropped to her knees in defeat.

And most curious, her hand snagged on something as she ran it through her hair. She painfully untangled her fingers, revealing the culprit—a ring, forcibly placed upon her by him. It was heavy, and big, and so beautiful ugly. She tugged at it, desperate to remove it from her body and cast it far away. That is what kept her here, anchoring her feet, clipping her wings, depriving her of oxygen.

This—his—ring.

Dipping her fingers into the soapy water, she watched as the diamond disappeared behind a floating petal. Yet, the ring remained stubborn, as if sewn onto her skin, fused with her very being.

Her right hand slipped, causing pain to bloom across her palm. The stupid ring had cut her! She huffed indignantly. How dare—how—why? Her lips curled, quivered, and a whimper escaped her. Then another, and another.

Pain seemed to follow the girl, clinging to her every step. Now, she finally let it wash over her. Pietro's duplicity paled in comparison to the betrayal of her best friend. Her friend who spoke too much and too fast, who pretended to care about her. Her sheepish smile at the ceremony was seared onto the girl's mind. And to think she had been involved in the entire scheme, conspiring with Pietro and her own father.

Was nothing real?

Pain! The girl recalled the last conversation she had with her mother. They talked about school and her mother's garden. Her mother had soothed her after another nightmare, as only mothers knew how. It had been nice. She had been happy.

Until she wasn't, and it wasn't. Now her mother was dead; her father had lied about it. And the girl found herself married to her mother's murderer.

Blood spread through the soapy water, turning it pink. And she finally allowed herself to cry, releasing the pent-up emotions that had thus far consumed her.

He didn't expect the first sob, nor the second or third. When Bucky heard the fourth sob echo through the room, he reached two conclusions. Firstly, he realized he needed to soundproof the bathroom and possibly the bedroom as well. He could hear every hitch in the girl's breath, every pained cry, and every sob she attempted to suppress.

Secondly, Bucky concluded that he must have overlooked a crucial detail in his extensive research regarding the girl, and something was clearly amiss. A lingering suspicion had plagued him since the morning of the wedding. Everything felt off.

Bucky recalled his conversation with Danial after the disastrous ceremony. When his father-in-law threw papers at Bucky's face and made him sign on the dotted line. Bastard.

Another sob caused Bucky to flinch, and he sank onto his bed, loosening his bow tie. Perhaps little Burgundy was unaware of her father's deceitfulness.

He remembered what his bunică had said. "How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma?"

Or perhaps the girl was as cunning as described. Bucky knew his family had a history with the Burgundys, but he was unsure to what extent. He was gaining a lot from the marriage—power, money, land—what was she getting, apart from his last name? One thing was certain: the girl was keeping secrets from him. She had refused to see him before their wedding, and now she refused to say more than two words.

An evocative wail drew Bucky's attention back to the present. His feet carried him toward the bathroom, but he hesitated to knock. Bucky doubted the girl wanted his comfort, not that he knew how to provide any if she did.

Bucky Barnes knew women like the back of his hand—their bodies, that is; understanding the female brain was a whole different matter. Bucky knew the basics. He knew that "I'm fine" meant "I'm not fine." And "I don't mind" meant they definitely minded.

There wasn't much else Bucky felt confident about when it came to understanding female behaviour unless it concerned sex. Sex, he knew. It was easy and instinctual.

Boy meets girl. Attraction. Mind-blowing orgasm. Boom, it was as simple as that.

He had heard that honeymoons were filled with sex, sex, and even more sex. Where one's carnal desires came to life. It was supposed to be romantic, sensual, and sexy.

Bucky had spent the past month or so fantasizing about all the sexy things he would do to his wife. Nothing about her crying in the bathroom was sexy.

"Fuck." Bucky quickly changed out of his uncomfortable clothes and into a loose pair of black sweats. He neatly folded his wedding attire and placed it in the dresser, intending to have it dry-cleaned later.

Bucky plopped down on his bed. "Motherfucker," he whispered in disdain. He was not supposed to lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the girl's cries. He was supposed to be fucking her hard and fast, using her to release the stress of the past few weeks out of his system. Her tears were supposed to be tears of pleasure, not pain. His groans were supposed to be of satisfaction, not annoyance.

God, he was exhausted. Now that his body knew he wouldn't be getting lucky tonight, the weight of the entire week's stress settled heavily on his shoulders, making him feel foggy and worn out.

Bucky must have dozed off because the house was eerily quiet when he opened his eyes, and almost an hour had passed.

He stretched his lithe body with a yawn and forced himself up. He wouldn't let the girl rot away in the bathroom all day. They needed to talk, she needed to eat, and then Bucky planned to take her sightseeing in the city.

The bathroom was locked as he went to open it, and there was silence on the other end. Bucky called out his wife's name and knocked on the dark wood. "I know you're in there," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. When he received no answer, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Come out, I need to talk to you."

There was some rustling on the other side, yet the door remained closed. "If you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I'm breaking it!" Bucky warned. He was not against property damage if it meant she would come out.

It took longer than five seconds, but the door eventually opened, revealing the girl in her wedding dress, still as beautiful as the night before.

Bucky cursed under his breath, momentarily distracted by her appearance. His mind worked a lot slower when she was wearing white. He let his gaze roam over her body. Her hair was a dishevelled mess, with pins sticking out every which way, and mascara streaked in lines down her face. It was unmistakable that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he found himself asking, concern evident in his voice.

The girl shook her head dismissively, avoiding eye contact.

"I could hear you," Bucky pointed out. He couldn't have ignored her cries if he tried. She was that loud. Her head bowed lower in what he suspected was shame. "Is it your father?" Bucky ventured. "Do you miss him?"

She remained quiet for a while, frustrating him further. Eventually, she spoke in a voice so low he wouldn't have heard it if he were not waiting for her reply. "My mother."

Of course. Bucky immediately realized his mistake. How could he have forgotten about her mother?

He apologized, "I'm sorry. Any idea who did it?"

His wife slowly lifted her head, eyes wide with alarm.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. "I heard it was an inside job. You really don't have any suspects?"

She slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered.

Bucky nodded, as if satisfied. In reality, his sharp mind was assessing her sincerity.

His attention shifted, noticing that her neckline had plunged significantly. It caused his heart rate to increase with excitement, his body coming alive from her proximity. He could see more of her skin than before, not that he minded in the slightest. God, she was sweet. Then a sudden thought struck him—she was still in her wedding dress.

"You haven't changed?" he asked in a husky voice.

Her response was hesitant and quiet. "No, I—I couldn't reach the back."

Cute. Bucky moved aside, gesturing for her to leave the bathroom, smiling when she accidentally brushed against his chest. He closed the door behind him and approached his little wife who stood near the edge of the bed with her back turned.

Slipping behind her, Bucky pressed his body flush against hers, feeling her stiffen. "Relax," he whispered, lowering his head to meet her height. He gently tucked a straight strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me help you."

She didn't object as Bucky ran his hand over the back of her bodice, searching for a zipper or clasp to aid in removing her dress. Instead, he discovered an intricately woven corset, revealing glimpses of smooth skin from between the silk ribbons.

After a few attempts, Bucky managed to undo the bow at the small of her back, and the dress unravelled before his eyes. His wife inhaled in surprise, using her hands to cover the rest of her modesty.

Bucky removed the remaining lace, discarding it somewhere behind him. He noticed red marks on her skin where the corset had been digging in, and he couldn't resist running his fingers over the slight indents. God, her skin felt burning hot against his. It made his heart beat in his ears—made sweat line his neck.

Reaching around, Bucky grasped his wife's chin, tilting it toward him. The sight made him lick his lips in anticipation. Her eyes were darkened with lust, her mouth slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Sweet, so sweet. And so close he could just reach over and claim her mouth for his own. They were so close he could almost taste the dried tears on her face. Bucky felt an overwhelming desire to touch her, to feel if she were as soft and sweet all over.

His hand tightened on her chin while his other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer until their noses touched. He was ready to lose himself in her scent, but just like earlier at the wedding, his wife's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed against him.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered, holding his half-conscious wife in his arms. She was not fully unconscious and was mumbling incoherently, blinking her eyes, trying to regain control of her body. "What the fuck?"

Was this a regular occurrence? Bucky hoped not. His line of work was not for the faint-hearted. Hell, she was a Burgundy! Her father, Danial, was ruthless and unapologetic when it came to his empire, so it made no sense for his daughter to be so fragile under minor stress.

Unless she's faking it.

But the longer Bucky stood there, cradling his wife, the more absurd the thought seemed. She looked too sweet and innocent to be as cunning and deceitful as her father.

"God damn it!" Bucky carried her to the bed and laid her down on the sheets. Her eyes were droopy, but she was fighting to stay awake. "Hey," Bucky lightly smacked her face. "You're fine. Open your eyes." She slowly regained composure, blinking and looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"Fuck." Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration. All he wanted was a conversation, a simple conversation with regular-sized sentences and no fainting spells. Was that too much to ask for? He didn't think so.

He blindly grabbed a shirt from his closet and handed it to his wife. "Put this on. We need to talk." He made sure to leave no room for argument. Leaning against the wall, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his wife to dress.

"Well?" Bucky questioned when she looked at him blankly. "Get a move on. I don't have all day." He chuckled when the girl gasped in surprise. She could think whatever she wanted, but he wasn't going to let anything else delay their conversation. "I'm not moving until that dress is off," he warned.

She swallowed audibly before slipping her head through the neck hole and pulling the fabric over her dress. Bucky observed as she fixed the sleeves and neckline, making final adjustments and letting the dress fall to her waist. Hmm, it was a sneaky move, but Bucky decided to let it slide.

"Go on," he encouraged.

His wife remained seated on the bed, lifting her hips to remove the dress from her legs. It fell to the ground in a heap, and for a moment, Bucky was met with the sexiest thighs he had ever seen. He thought he saw a flash of white lace, but it was quickly covered. His wife pulled his red henley down, attempting to hide her skin, which made him frown.

What had Steve said about him getting some? Yeah. Right. That didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Didn't mean he couldn't look.

Bucky hummed, breaking the silence. "You faint often?"

His wife appeared taken aback. "N-no, not really."

"Not really," Bucky echoed sarcastically. "Right, we need to talk about that. What happened yesterday?"

"I don't know," she replied, fidgeting with her thumbs, a clear sign of nervousness.

Raising a patronizing brow, Bucky remarked, "Come on, you can do better than that." The girl remained tight-lipped. "Were you drunk?"

She vehemently shook her head, denying it.

"I could smell it on your breath," he accused, recalling the moment before their failed kiss when he leaned in and caught a whiff of alcohol. There was no mistaking it.

"I had some Champagne, but I wasn't drunk," she insisted with desperation.

"Well, someone saw you finish an entire bottle," Bucky pointed out, caught between his wife's words and Dot's account. "Honestly, you don't strike me as someone who can handle her alcohol."

"It was nerves," she finally admitted, avoiding eye contact by focusing on the ground, the window, or the rings adorning his fingers.

"Nerves?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"I got nervous because I've never done this before," she explained.

Bucky understood her perfectly well, but he couldn't resist playing with her. He faked a frown. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You know," she shrugged, silently urging him to fill in the blanks. Bucky took pleasure in making her say the words. "What newlyweds normally do after getting married."

"You mean fuck?" Bucky chuckled, enjoying her reaction. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Doubt what?"

"Doubt you've never been screwed," his words hit the mark.

The girl's eyes snapped toward him. "I haven't."

Bucky felt a surge of excitement at her false confession. "I wouldn't lie if I were you."

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

Bucky uncrossed his arms and stood tall. "So you're telling me you've never had a boyfriend before?"

Something resembling shame flitted across her face. She hesitated to answer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes."

Bucky didn't buy it, not for a second, especially after what he discovered the day before. He swallowed his harsh words and retorted with a snide remark. "Never had a boyfriend, huh? Interesting."

"I'm still young," she argued.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her argument. "Still young, huh? Well, sweetheart, age doesn't determine romantic experiences, but hey, who am I to question your luck with Cupid?" He couldn't help but add a touch of sarcasm to his voice.

The girl's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "It's the truth," she insisted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Bucky leaned in closer, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Sure, sure. I guess it's just a rare case of a twenty-two-year-old with zero love history. Must be some kind of record."

The girl clenched her fists, clearly affected by his remark. "It's not as uncommon as you think," she retorted.

Bucky grinned mischievously. "Oh, I'm sure it's a regular occurrence," he replied sarcastically, enjoying their banter. "Cupid must have taken an extended vacation when it came to your life."

She shot him a piercing look. "Well, maybe I've been waiting for someone worthy."

Bucky chuckled, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Someone worthy? Well, here I am, sweetheart," Bucky spread his arms in an elaborate display, "ready and willing."

With that final snide remark, Bucky settled back into his previous position, eager to see her reaction. The tension in the room lingered as they locked eyes, both unwilling to back down.

"You have some nerve," the girl huffed in irritation.

Bucky's smirk widened, thoroughly enjoying their verbal sparring. "You have no idea, sweetheart," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "Nerve is practically a requirement in my line of work."

The girl's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let his taunts get the better of her. "Just don't expect me to swoon over your nerves," she retorted, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Bucky chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn't dare," he said, inching closer. Somehow she seemed even smaller when he towered over her. "But it seems like you're pretty daring for the both of us." He grabbed her chin and narrowed his eyes, dropping all pretense of humour for a moment. "Don't forget though, this marriage won't be built on swooning or romance. It's a partnership, an arrangement. And you'll find that I bring much more to the table than fucking nerves."

The girl flinched at his harsh words, pursing her lips. Angry tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "And what is that exactly?" she spat. "Because so far, you've been a beast."

For the first time that day, Bucky felt a genuine flash of rage rise within him. He stepped back and released her chin, clenching his fists at his sides and away from her. What had he done to warrant being called a beast? He was trying his best to make sure she was comfortable, but it seemed the Burgundy princess had higher standards.

He breathed through his nose, plastering a mocking smile onto his face. He could tell the second the girl realized the weight of what she said because she was suddenly back to her quiet self.

"Power, protection, and a life you couldn't even fathom," he responded with intensity. "I may not look like your typical knight in shining armour, but I can guarantee this much—no one will ever dare to mess with you as long as you're mine. You have my name now. There's nothing you could possibly want that I couldn't give you."

Bucky paused and took another step back so the girl didn't have to strain her neck as much to look at him. He wanted her full attention on him as he delivered his last blow. "What will you bring to the fucking table?"

The girl's expression softened slightly, her defiance giving way to a flicker of uncertainty. She seemed to be grappling with conflicting emotions, the weight of their unusual situation bearing down on her.

Her eyes went vacant for a moment as if she wasn't in the room anymore. "I'll give you an heir," she whispered.

"What?"

She shook her head, seemingly returning to the room. "I'll give you a son. An heir."

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, that's a given."

He watched with mild pleasure as she deflated in front of him, defeated. Bucky turned to leave.

"I don't understand you." Her voice was the softest it had been.

"You don't know me," Bucky retorted, slowly warming up to her fluctuating tone. "And I don't know you." He glanced at his watch. "Be ready in five. I'm taking you out for lunch."

Note: Thoughts?

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

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[losersside]

##polin socmed au Paris🇫🇷

It amazed Colin. Being able to watch Penelope so carefree roaming the streets of Paris. She seemed in her natural element, a glass of red wine in her hand and surrounded by the books in the yard sale she was carefully perusing.  She raised her head from the books and looked at him beaming, she probably had managed to translate a word she didn't know in French. Perhaps based on context, maybe not even that. Penelope seemed to be made of words. So attuned to them and always diligent and tender with the syllables, carefully wrapping her lips through the sounds. Even right now as she stumbles her way through French talking to the guy at the yard sale. He gets close to them. Penelope seems to be bargaining in broken French. A small smile forms on the man's lips at the girl trying to get this already discounted book for even less. Colin does not fault him, truly, she is scrunching her nose at the clear negative response to her bargaining attempts, how could you not smile?

“Come on, Pen. We have dinner reservations” he looked at her disappointed frown forming as he spoke. She glanced at the books in front of the yard sale men and then back at him again.

“Colin, I almost got him” Her whisper was accompanied by a look of determination on her face, the thing is that Colin had witnessed the whole interaction and she most likely did not almost have him.

Colin chuckled, “Ok, you most definitely are not gonna convince this French man to sell you ten books for 10 euros”

“Yes, I am” She raised her voice slightly but you could still hear the amusement in it. She was just playing. Colin could not help but smile big and bark a laugh.

“Ok, this is what we are going to do. I’m going to be the most amazing friend of all time and pay for your books”

“Absolutely not” She scrambled towards him.  He, however, couldn't stop his grin from turning smug as he reached into the front pocket of his jeans for his wallet. “Come on, Pen. I am but a third son. However, I think I can manage 20 euros” It was impossible not to look at her fondly as she rolled her eyes at him, the hard lines of her frown disappearing into her soft features and a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth threatening a smile.

The man at the yard sale’s face softened looking at them as they paid. Colin didn't think he was used to scamming tourists but It’s not every day that a tiny blonde heckled you into trying to get a half-price discount. Colin turned to Pen, she was sheepishly looking at her phone trying not to seem overly excited by the stack of books currently being put away in a rather big fabric bag. When he finally caught her eye he was met with a beaming smile illuminating her face.

The restaurant was small. It seemed rustic in an explicit French way. The lighting was dim and the walls were covered in mirrors. Colin was positive that the black metal bistro chairs would leave the wicker weaving marks in the back of Penelope’s thighs, the short black dress she wore ensured him of it. It rode softly up her legs when she sat.

He looked at her profile through the mirror-covered walls. The curve of her nose absorbed him, her pale skin littered with freckles, and the subtle redness where her nostril met her cheek peaking through worn out separating makeup. He seemed to be in a trance

“You didn't have to do it, really” Her smile was soft and kind as she spoke. Her eyes, crystalline blue, seemed to glow darker in this restaurant's light. It made him wonder how many different ways there were to see her and in how many ways he hadn't been able to do so.

“Hey, don't thank me. Thank Eloise. She was the one that thrust you into this trip under the pretense of you being off”  A look of defeat washed over her face accompanied by a tired sight.

“I fucking hate that. You guys don't have to care of me. You know that, right?”  And he knew that. He just wanted to.

“Eloise just cares about you”

“And I know that. It’s just…” She exhaled trying to form the words in her head. She was looking down, her hands playing with the cloth napkin. “I was off this summer. Truly off.” She suddenly searched for his gaze. It drew a sharp breath out of him. “I told you. It wasn't just that I stopped talking to you. It was everything. The substack… It blew up. And the essay that went viral was about my mother.” A small sad laugh came out of her at the mention of her mother. “And then I got a book deal because of my substack and I guess now  I can't say my mother never got me where I am.” She laughed at this. It started small and rather sarcastic but quickly grew. Placing a delicate hand over her mouth it began a full-body laugh that Colin could not help but mirror. It was probably born out of desperation. He knew her mom. He knew how Penelope felt about her. They loved each other. Colin knew that but couldn't fully describe their love. He was used to unconditional love. A reliable love unafraid to be shown no matter the circumstances. But Colin saw how Pen was raised. Portia seemed colder. He didn't notice it at first. As a young boy, his mom seemed smothering and overbearing but he did notice the small light in Pen’s eyes when his mother hugged her tight at a function, Portia far away from her. And that was it. Portia was distant. She kept Prudence and Philippa closer, maybe they were easier to manage, or maybe she believed they needed more help. Penelope had always been far too witty for her years. That's what drew Eloise to her. Hell! That's what drew him in. And she had them, “The Bridgertons”. Portia never seemed to understand her youngest daughter's relationship with his family. Portia never saw her. Portia never saw 16 year-old Penelope obliterate Anthony at trivia the first time Eloise dared to invite her to game night two years after meeting the girl. At first, she seemed scared, Anthony was 25 and the sorest loser you could possibly meet. But then his whole family rallied behind her in favor of defeating the big bad, Benedict even whispering some of the answers to art questions she seemingly didn't know. The cheeky smile that appeared on her face as she was biting down a nothing but smug grin made the Bridgertons understand Eloise’s fondness.

Their laugh quieted down. “Anyways, everything with writing became too overwhelming. Which is not the best when suddenly you are gifted with magazine articles and a huge book deal.” He knew she didn't take those opportunities lightly. How could he not know when she was pouring her heart out in a classic but dingy restaurant in Paris. It just felt weird. He looked at her again. The waiter was taking too long. They probably saw them enraptured in conversation. Colin could use some wine.

“S'il vous plaît” His hand shot up catching the attention of a waiter who quickly approached them taking their order.

“Colin, are you okay? Perhaps it was too much”

“No” he quickly interrupted her. He wouldn't let her spiral. But he didn't know what to say. Something felt entirely different. He looked at himself in one of the mirrors. Had he always looked at her with such fondness? He couldn't bring himself to look at her, his eyes now fixed on the entirely too expensive red wine they just ordered. “It's different here, Is it not?” Their eyes met. She nodded a sense of understanding deep in her baby blues. “Here, almost everything feels like it's melting like fondue if you think about it.” She chuckled biting her lip and trying to stop the laugh. It wasn't that funny of a comment. But he didn't have it in him to be serious, entirely too afraid of what would happen if he was.

“I get it” She always did. It's like Eloise said, they always understood each other better than anyone. In all honesty, he knew Eloise came to hate the mischievous look they would give each other as she spoke. The quiet laughs they intimately shared on the table at dinner when someone would make the mistake of letting them sit together at dinner. Colin also knew he wasn't Penelope’s dearest friend, that would be his sister of course, but he didn't know when Penelope became his center. He came home to London with this trip far away in his mind. He came home from London lost. He felt lost without a single email from Penelope, without being able to come from the airport and drop by her flat unannounced cause of course he missed her even with the constant back and forth; texts, emails, facetimes, calls.

He held her gaze unable to answer her. He didn't think she got it. She looked at him blue eyes nervous, restless given his silence. Her hand moved slightly on the table knocking over her wine glass.

“Oh my god” She moved away from the liquid spilling. Colin quickly got to her side of the table carefully trying to wipe the liquid with one of the white cloth napkins. He looked at her and their eyes met. Faces barely inches apart. Something was dizzying about her shallow breaths, about the rise and fall of her chest constricted by the neckline of her dress. Her plush lips were rosy, they still held some remnant of her lipstick worn out from the day but the center seemed a tad redish perhaps from the wine. They looked kissed. Colin didn't know how to feel about this.

“Oh, please sir, let me” A waiter had made his way over here and was trying to clean the spilled wine.

When he left Penelope laughed, this time completely carefree throwing her head back. Colin realized he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile, at this. God, he loved seeing her like this.

“I'm a fucking mess”

“Yeah, but until this trip is over you’re my fucking mess”

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[sourrcandy]

WTW FEAST OF FRIGHT - DAY #16: JACK O' LANTERN : write a 250-500 word character study for your protagonist

KNIGHTS ; files from the holy grail ↳ #04. gareth — violet laurent clemonte

Violet Laurent thinks her mother married well. The Clemontes are welcoming, and it helps that her mother’s reputation as a supermodel proceeds her. Everyone knew of Fleur Laurent’s share of lovers with no strings attached, so the news of the french fashion model’s marriage comes as a surprise. Her birth father had wrestled for rights to claim her, but Reginald Clemonte’s influence precedes all, and Violet had gratefully accepted the name change, after all, the Clemonte name comes with many, many benefits. Plus, the name ‘Violet Clemonte’ rolls off the tongue so perfectly it is hard to refuse. She discovers the drawbacks of the Clemonte name when she is sixteen. It is the fourteenth anniversary of her mother’s death, and also her younger sister Colette’s fourteenth birthday. Violet knows she shouldn’t, but she still harbours a slight grudge towards Colette, because her birth took away their mother.

She can’t recognise any aspect of Colette as her mother, the only thing tying them together is the signature Laurent blonde hair and the slightest twinge of a flowery accent on their tongues. The entrance hall of the Jacobean estate is filled with birthday decorations, streamers and ribbons hang from the ceiling and birthday presents fill the halls. Violet sees names she can't recognise and automatically assumes it's from all around high society, each family trying to out do each other. Archie, the family butler, ushers her out of the way as a group of delivery men make their way down the corridor to bring boxes after boxes into one of the lounge rooms in the East Wing. “Ms Violet, it’s best to stay out of the way when deliveries come through the manor,” he reminds her, eyes smiling kindly as he redirects her attention away from the gifts her younger sibling is showered with. Selena, the fresh twelve-year-old Father adopted recently, runs up to take her hand. “Do I get presents too?” She asks, eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the festivities. “Not today, Lena,” Violet replies, patting her affectionately on the head. At her words, the younger girl grips her tiger plush toy tighter and juts her lower lip out in a pout. “You girls look disappointed. It's your sister's birthday, at least pretend to care,” a deep honeyed voice comes from behind them. Violet turns around on her heels in surprise, nearly stumbling into Selena. When all she sees is a crisp ironed suit, she turns her gaze upwards and swallows nervously. Broker smiles, the polite expression getting under her skin and making her squirm in her spot. “Ah, more children, does he know when to stop?” He says to himself. Violet wonders if his tone is louder intentionally for her to hear. Then, he voices, “You’re Laurent’s daughter, aren’t you?” “It’s Clemonte, sir,” she replies firmly. Broker nods as if agreeing, saying, “Of course you are, like mother like daughter.” Then, Violet’s gaze drops to the wrapped gift in Broker’s arms labelled C. Clemonte. There are only specific times Broker visits the estate: to attend stuffy meetings with Father, or, she realises now, to celebrate the birthdays of biological Clemontes. Violet has never felt more like an outsider. She swallows bitterly, and grips Selena’s hand tighter. “I take after Father more,” she interjects, straightening her posture. “You surely are stubborn enough to be like him,” he comments. Broker tilts his head to the side as if to study her, and his smile widens. “Enjoy your sister’s birthday, Laurent.” Then, he sidesteps sharply and continues down the hall. Violet watches as a squealing Colette bounds up to Broker in her blue princess dress, gasping in delight as she accepts the gift and gives the man a tight hug. “Uncle, you're the best! Thank you!” She exclaims. Rare affection dawns on Broker’s face, and his voice is clear as day as he replies, “Anything for a Clemonte.”

[oumaheroes]

Hellooo!!! I love love loveee your work. I fell in love with ur FrUK fics (esp stargazing and the Grace of forgetting) before your btt fics. I rlly rlly rlly love your headcannons as well.

So I was wondering what you’d think of a fic where Antonio and Gilbert are secretly following Francis on his date with Arthur (maybe they’re doing some silly shenanigans, or trying to wingman Francis but it goes wrong, or maybe they’re just going to use whatever content they get for blackmail later) hehehehe tysm!! I really love your writing!

Thank you, Anon! ;u; I'm glad you like my work

I'm afraid I couldn't give you the exact silly fic you asked for but I don't see Francis needing a wingman at all, or being possible to blackmail with his exploits. He's too confident in himself and with his choices and his friends know this

Have a quick drabble of a failed pick up attempt, however

----------------------------

‘How much.’

‘Tenner.’

‘Tenner?’

Gilbert shrugs, ‘I bet a tenner.’

Antonio shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink, ‘Waste of money.’

‘Ten pounds isn’t a lot.’

‘It is if you’re throwing it away.’

‘Don’t offer to bet on something so stupid then.’

They both watch Francis up at the bar. From their table they can’t see much of him- the pub is crowded and he’s well covered by the huddle of thirsty and already rowdy patrons waiting to be served. But they can see his face well enough, with his easy smile and low lidded eyes turned towards someone on his right. It’s just his profile, but it’s enough. The look is one they’ve seen him wear many times before.

His target, a thin blond man next to him, is frowning at him, dark eyebrows drawn low with the threat of a sneer.

Antonio waggles his drink, consideringly, ‘Maybe.’

Gilbert grins, ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Antonio reaches out his glass towards Gilbert, ‘Tenner says he fails.’

‘Tenner says he takes him home.’

‘Deal.’

Gilbert clinks his glass against Antonio’s and they both drink. At the bar, the crowd of people part for just a moment to show Francis’ hand resting dangerously low down on the unknown man’s back. Antonio hisses and Gilbert laughs.

‘Might as well buy me a drink now and get it over with.’

‘They’re not home yet.’

‘They will be.’

‘You don-‘

There’s a sudden shout of alarm. Both turn their attention back to the bar in time to watch the crowd step back and reveal Francis clutching his nose, his face now one of thunder. The blond he was talking to shoves him and Francis shoves him back, blood dribbling freely down his top lip. The crowd closes around them again, nearby men grabbing them to haul them apart as others shout and hurriedly step back.

‘Shit.’

Antonio raises an eyebrow and looks at Gilbert in askance, ‘Should we help?’

Gilbert finishes his drink, ‘Nah. We deserve to enjoy it sometimes.’

Antonio laughs and pushes across his leftover chips to Gilbert in offering, jerking his head towards the mess at the bar. Francis is shouting something, his French too quick for Gilbert to translate, ‘That doesn’t mean anything though, does it. He might still get him.’

Gilbert thinks back to all of the times he’s come home to find Francis in bed with a stranger, and all the other times he’s found him with people whom he claims to hate. Francis always likes a challenge and this blond stranger was a challenge indeed. Gilbert gets the feeling too that the man, whilst shouting and gesticulating wildly in response to whatever it was that Francis said, oddly seems to be enjoying himself.

Gilbert sighs and picks at Antonio’s paltry offering.

‘I’m staying at yours tonight.’

‘It’ll cost you a tenner.’

‘Fuck you.’

[skylermadness]

Materia Gains (Heidegger TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: June 23, 2024)

Original Description:

My half of a trade with Catolyst! His half can be found here: DeviantArt / FuAffinity. Truthfully I've been wanting to write a Heidegger TF for a long time. Ever since I first played Final Fantasy 7 Remake, actually! I even had a relatively lengthy concept for one that I ended up not writing. Although I did end up retooling a lot of systems from it for this story! Mainly having it involve a materia trigger since, honestly, materia is the easiest trigger concept imaginable. I've seen about three different Final Fantasy 7 TFs involving materia and one of those I wrote like two years ago. But also I find it extremely fun! Although I should perhaps take a stab at using non-green materia some day. I'm going on a tangent though. This was a really fun story to write though. I feel like I handled age progression descriptions a lot better this time around than I usually do! I'm also really proud of the mental changes and corruption for this one. It feels like I haven't done a good corruption story since the Roquefort one from last year. All-in-all, super satisfied with how this worked out! I'm also very happy with how Catolyst's art for this trade turned out as well~ Makes me realize how many times I've gotten one-eyed old men as part of trades with him. I wonder if this'll be kept up in future trades... Anyway, thanks Catolyst for this trade opportunity! It's always a pleasure to work with you, and I look forward to doing so again in the future!

   The ticking of a clock echoed ominously within the confines of the waiting room that Cato was currently in. For a good chunk of the past half hour he had found his gaze constantly flicking between the time display on his phone, and the aforementioned clock. The email said that his interview was scheduled at twelve o’clock precisely. And it was currently eleven fifty-seven.

   Three minutes…

   He hoped that the actual interview room wasn't as bad as this room. The polished wooden walls and red carpeting had given the waiting room an elegant look, but it added a certain level of ominousness that he wasn't very fond of. The massive, presumably locked double-door that was positioned to the wall opposite of him also gave this place a certain vibe he couldn't pinpoint. One that was professional, but in an off-putting kind of way. The only compliment he could give was that the seats were comfortable to sit on.

   Two minutes now…

   Cato’s stomach was still in knots from the stress he was experiencing. He admittedly still wasn't too sure what this interview had fully entailed. The company’s name on the job finder site was relatively vague with it just being titled ‘SRA Industrial Incorporation’. The listing was also for a position in the public relations sector. Nowadays that probably just meant running some kind of social media account for the company or something. Such a thing has never seemed like the most riveting of jobs, but if it paid well then he didn't really mind. But the overall vagueness of the situation didn't really give him much hope for anything.

   He checked the time again. One minute now. Damn.

   He then resumed his thoughts. This place didn't seem to be that bad at least. The tower the company was situated in seemed pretty nice, and the furnishing within it was at the very least comforting. So while Cato didn't really know the specifics of what he might be getting himself into, what's the worst that could-

   His internal spiraling is broken when the room��s massive door opens. Stepping out of it was a woman with blonde hair tied up in a French twist, and wearing a dark red satin dress. She only gave Cato a single glance before coldly stating, “The President will be seeing you now.”

   Cato just watched as the lady walked back through the doorway, taking a few seconds to fully register what was going on. He was having an interview with the company president? Do companies tend to even do that!? He then shook his head to break himself out of another spiral. He'd rather not start looking like he's staring off into space when he knows he might be in the eyesight of the people who're interviewing him.

   Standing up, Cato begins walking towards and into the room. Despite his earlier hopes, the interview room was effectively equally (if not more) stress-inducing than the waiting room he was previously in. The room was somewhat lengthy, which he reasoned was to fit the relatively long rectangular table that he could only equate to being like one of those large meeting tables in movies. He had counted about eight chairs surrounding the table, three being on each of the longer sides while there was one per short side. However despite the daunting seat count there were only two other people here besides him.

   One of those two people was the woman, who had now taken a seat in one of the chairs on the table’s long side that was furthest from the entrance. Meanwhile the other person had been sitting in a seat that was both directly opposite to the entrance and the actual furthest distance away from it. This person seemed to be an older-looking man with thinning blonde hair and a mustache, who was wearing a dark red suit. The man was also staring right at Cato as he was inspecting the room, a rather intimidating glare tangible on their face. 

   Cato had quickly taken note of the fact he was being glared at, which was more than just mildly uncomfortable for him. So he just sat down in the chair on the table’s short end that was closest to the doorway. Then, with an awkward wave and a smile directed towards the other man, he said a simple, “Hi?”

   A silence befell the room for a few seconds as the man (the president of this company, Cato presumed) broke his gaze to look at a few papers he had in front of him. “So I take it you're-” he paused to squint at the paper, “-Cato?”

   Cato nodded. “Yep,” he responded. He tried to keep his focus on the other man’s eyes to maintain eye contact but every so often his gaze would flick around the room for a second or two out of nervousness. It didn't help that his thoughts rapidly drifted during these pauses. Between the man’s suit and that lady’s dress, mixed with the sheer elegance of the rooms of the building, he had a feeling he came here a little underdressed. A flannel shirt and jeans did not make for a good business fit…

   “Hmm,” the rumble of a hum in the president’s throat really echoed through the room. “So what made you think you'd be a good fit for our Public Safety position?”

   Cato blinked a few times. Public safety? He could've sworn the listing said public relations. “Uhh, well-”

   “Especially since your credentials don't really align with the job you applied yourself for,” the suited man outright stated. Although there was a strange lack of frustration in his voice.

   “A-admittedly, I thought the listing said something else,” Cato started to explain, nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt as he spoke.

   “And that was?”

   “Public relations…”

   A stiff silence entered the room after he admitted that. The woman and the president looked at each other, seemingly having some kind of mutual conversation in the silence somehow. Then with the passing of a few seconds the president restored eye contact with Cato.

   “A very easy mistake to make,” he started. He set the papers flat onto the table again. “Not unnoticeable though. I'm sure you're probably wondering by now why we'd even consider you despite your clear lack of expertise in this field.”

   Cato raised a brow. The thought didn't really cross his mind until now thanks to the stress, but now that it was said out loud…

   “I like to consider myself a generous man,” the president continued. An odd smile was now gracing his previously unfeeling face. “Not many get a chance to reach the interview process here at SRA Industrial Inc., even less with such a clear difference in interests to what we need.”

   Cato watched as the man promptly plunged a hand into the jacket of his suit. He rummaged around in there for a few seconds before pulling out what looked to be a green, crystalline orb. “That's why I'd want to offer some… on the job training for you,” he then put the orb on the table. “Mainly because I see great potential in you, Cato.”

   Cato was already feeling a bit confused at this proposition. “Well, my field of knowledge hasn't really been in public safety, so that would probably require a lot of training…”

   “You'd be surprised at how often that happens here at SRA. Even I had no knowledge of handling a business once, but that didn't stop me from… getting taught and building this company from the ground up.”

   He then flicked his hand, the action propelling the green sphere across the table and towards Cato. The sound of stone rolling across wood reverberated through the air as it traveled before it conveniently slowed to a halt at Cato’s end of the table.

   Cato just eyed the object, feelings of curiosity and suspicion forming in the man’s mind. “Uh, what is this exactly?”

   All the president did was smile and give a single, cryptic response. “Consider it a little… gift from me.”

   He then stood up from his seat. “Now, we'll give you some time alone to consider our proposition. Although I can promise you that doing so would be very beneficial for you. So think long and hard about this…”

   He then looks at the woman, who herself was starting to leave her seat. The two nod to each other before taking their leave, exiting through a door that was located at the side of the room. Cato watched as the duo exited the room, sighing in relief once the door fully shut behind them.

   “Ugh, that was weird…” he muttered to himself as his gaze wandered towards the strange sphere the president had rolled towards him. The dim green glow mixed with various shades of spiraling green was oddly satisfying to stare at. Now if only he knew what this thing even was.

   He picked up the orb. Despite its appearance it was oddly light. Furthermore it seemed to glow brighter from his touch. “Weird gift. Come to think of it, it's really weird to give me anything even though he hasn't hired me yet…”

   Cato then sat back in his seat and began to idly futz around with the orb in his hand. He wasn't sure what to think about in regards to anything about this interview. He'd rather have gotten a rejection email instead of this. But then again they are offering him genuine training to fit whatever needs they require of him in regards to public security. Although he does wonder what kind of company this is that it requires a sector for public security of all things.

   “What did I get myself into,” Cato said with another sigh. 

   A few more seconds pass with the man continuing to casually shift the orb between hands. A part of him expects the duo of executives to walk through that door to get his answer, but nothing really happens. That is until he makes a fumble that causes the weird crystal to slip out from its cycle in his hands. It quickly dropped onto the ground with a hard thunk!

   “Shit-” Cato immediately got up from his seat to pick up the orb. Luckily it just dropped onto the ground right next to his chair, so he didn't have to go searching under the table for it.

   “Please don't be cracked, please don't be cracked,” he panickedly repeated, rolling the glassy crystal around in both of his hands to inspect for any breaks or bruises. On the plus side there hadn't seemed to be any judging by a few seconds of inspection. Those few seconds of inspection proved something else however. The orb seemed to be glowing brighter, and a green aura was coming off it and seemingly surrounding his hands.

   “Uhhh, what the…?”

   With each second longer the aura seemed to last, the more a strange sensation entered Cato’s hands. A rising pressure that overtook them both. A feeling that resulted in something very, very strange…

   The most evident manifestation of this strangeness was a building pressure in both his hands. The feeling of pressure increase seemed to cause a physical change in growth within each hand, both steadily getting larger as the gem’s aura stayed prevalent. Each passing second making both hands stretch out wider, lengthier. Even making them a bit thicker by granting them a more meaty appearance. This had also resulted in his fingers developing a bit of chunkiness to them as they too thickened, alongside seemingly lengthening to fit with the new proportions of his hands.

   The size of his hands didn't seem to be the only thing changing either. A rougher texture had started to settle within the skin. This was more noticeable in the back of each hand as this roughness set in, which was accentuated by the sparse growth of black hairs in the region. The front of his hands weren't left unchanged either as the once soft skin of his palms hardened the longer they held onto the glowing orb. They still remained skin, but it was a bit whiter and weathered with calluses. Both of these alterations combined seemed to prove a certain aging effect was setting into Cato’s body by this weird crystal.

   Or, at least, he thought it was the crystal’s doing. So in the sudden panic that was forming from watching his hands rapidly age in front of him he dropped the orb back onto the ground. Another thunk echoed off the walls of the meeting room as the green sphere hit the ground.

   Cato didn't care about the object anymore. He just looked at his hands, his older, rougher-skinned hands, and his jaw clenched in worried anticipation. He was waiting for some kind of sign the changes would be reversed now that he wasn't holding whatever that object was anymore. “Come on, I dropped that thing so you have no reason to look like this anymore!”

   The green glow of the glassy crystal continued to persist however. And even on the ground the mist-like aura of it seemed to stretch out and towards Cato, thick and translucent tendrils of green circling themselves around the man. Whatever he did earlier seemed to have activated something in it, and it had no intention of stopping.

   So all he could do was let out a frustrated, “Damn it!” as he watched the furthest ends of his shirt sleeves begin to fill out while a mixture of pressure and heat enveloped his forearms. An indicator that the changes had evidently begun to move beyond the confines of his hands. 

   The primary manifestation of these changes was a sudden growth in musculature within the region. Cato was a typically skinny guy, but that was becoming quickly contrasted as his extensor muscles thickened. This had resulted in the fabric of his shirt sleeves to steadily strain over the bulking ends of his limbs. Roughening skin rubbing up against the soft material, crevices of his newly forming muscles indenting into the patterned red of it with ease. 

   His upper arms weren't immune to this either. The skin across both limbs would continue to age upwards, accompanied by a thickening layer of arm hair that had taken on a deep black tone instead of his usual blonde coloration. Beneath it all his muscle mass would continue to burgeon, presumed years of workout being added to his form in mere seconds. Biceps and triceps both heated up and swelled in conjunction with each other. His deltoids began thickening soon after which resulted in a roundness developing within his shoulders. As both these changes grew in prevalence it further added to the heavy strain that his shirt was undergoing, alongside adding some pressure in his undershirt now that everything reached the upper half of his limbs. So many crevices and indents that represented the divides in muscle groups, all continuously etching into the fabric as his arms developed a definition that they didn't have prior. It wasn't a surprise that just a few seconds after his arms stopped bulking up, the sheer disparity between their new and old sizes would cause a few tears to form at the seams of his flannel’s sleeves.

   The sound of fabric ripping pierced the air. Cato’s attention ended up being drawn to the newly formed rippage, his eyes focusing on a tear over his bulkier bicep. Although the cyan of his undershirt’s sleeve was visible so he couldn't see if his skin had changed beneath it. Judging by the mild itching on his arms though he had a feeling it was. Come to think of it, his chest was also kind of itchy too.

   With that realization, a groan of frustration escaped Cato’s throat as his gaze left his arms and moved over to his chest. “What the heck is that orb thing even doing to me!?”

   The answer was pretty obvious considering the rapid increase in mass the man was accumulating. With his focus on his chest now he could see just how much it the transformative aura was causing it to push and swell forward. Size greatly accumulating within the region as heat continuously spiraled around his core. In just mere seconds the relatively flat and undefined nature of his chest was altered by the rapid gain in musculature. The front of his shirt pushed out bit by bit as his pectorals swelled and thickened. Soon the upper buttons of his shirt strained against their eyelets, the two forming slabs of raw meat just increasing the pressure his burgeoning size was putting on his attire. 

   But then after a few more seconds something else started to accumulate on Cato’s chest. Some more size was added to the now larger region. However this size wasn't from another gain in muscle. Instead it seemed to be from fat. A layer of fat blanketed his pecs, the once raw and hard beefiness getting a bit softer as a result. Although it still seemed to retain a significant level of definition as both pectorals would take on an appearance more aptly describable as soft slabs of meat now. Though the addition to their size from the fat had resulted in the pressure in his flannel’s placket coming to some semblance of an apex as the top-most button broke, followed by the one beneath it.

   Concurrent with the changes in their chest were those in the torso’s lower half. His belly churned and bubbled, the muscles in that area altering and developing to grant the region definition. What little fat there was around his stomach was pushed away for a moment as abdominal muscles slotted out sequentially. Top-most, middle, then bottom-most, pushing out like shelves on an off-balanced drawer. Combined they would give Cato a solid six-pack that pressed up against his undershirt, indenting into the cyan fabric of it with ease, while simultaneously pulling against the buttons of their shirt like their pecs had been doing.

   The strain in their shirt buttons yet again increased exponentially as the changes in their abdomen continued. Adipose would yet again rush across his newly manifested muscles, raw definition seemingly smoothing out as fat continuously formed within the region. It didn't even stop at the natural amount that Cato had prior as more and more fat continued to get added to his stomach region. Larger it swelled, pushing up against his shirt buttons more as the thickening belly steadily pushed up his undershirt. Then one by one each button broke their associated, if not straight up snapping off his shirt, as the pressure from his fattening belly finally pushed them beyond their limits. 

   “Mmf, thought this was just gonna be… gettin’ buff,” Cato commented as he held his stomach. His jaw remained clenched as he eyed the musclegut he seemed to possess now. His undershirt had rode up it a bit, seemingly now bordering where it could cross above his navel. It also seemed his fatter body was getting perfectly outlined by the cyan t-shirt as his chest and stomach pressed up against the fabric of it. His gaze had also been privy to what seemed to be a bush of thick, black hairs trailing up the midline of his gut. 

   The hair would run beneath his shirt of course. A treasure trail of hair rushing upwards to touch the forest of fuzz that overtook his chest. A thick, bearish body would be an accurate description of the form he had been rapidly adopting. Especially considering the sensation of strength that seemed to course throughout his newly developed musculature.

   His initial panic was steadily dying down as those sensations of strength and bodily warmth amplified. “I still don't know what the fuck this orb’s doing to me but-” a tingle catches in his throat and he stops to cough. “-it feels kind of good…”

   He blinked a few times. His voice sounded off in the other half of that statement. It sounded a bit deeper than it had usually been. A little bit more aged than it used to be. “Of course it'd start changing that too…”

   It was still hard to fully accept what was going on though. These changes were weird, this whole situation was weird. Was the weird spherical crystal supposed to do this? Did that guy even know this was going to happen? Was this supposed to convince him to work for them?

   “Who am I even becoming…?” he asked himself verbally. It feels like this was just aging him up more than anything, but that seemed mildly implausible considering the black hairs that rapidly covered his body. Perhaps this is what that president guy meant when he said on the job training? 

   “Urgh, that bastard has a lot to answer for once he gets back!” Cato said to himself in frustration. Although after the statement was spoken aloud he realized how uncharacteristically aggressive that sounded of him. Placing a hand at the side of his head he tells himself, “That was… weird…”

   The crystal's aura only grew stronger, and Cato couldn't deny the mild buzz entering his brain as the green glow intensified. A strange fog in the back of it ever so slowly billows forward and around. And with it comes this strange sensation of brutishness that was steadily implanting itself into Cato’s personality.

   “…might be right though. Fucking changing me like this against my will.”

   Cato’s gaze wandered away from his gut and onto the ground. His eyes focused on the glowing green sphere, gaze lingering. There was a sensation of resentment towards it that was welling up within him, one that coincided with a conflicting feeling of empowerment. He should hate this, but he also loves the way his body is turning out.

   The conflicts in desire and personality clashed in his mind, although Cato’s face didn't seem to show it much save for a tightening in his jaw and a low, almost growl-like groan coming out of his throat. He tried to ignore it for the time being though, and instead just idly nudged the green orb with a foot. “This is a lot of trouble you're giving me here. This better be worth it…”

   He would be lying if he said there wasn't a small fragment of something in the back of his mind telling him it will.

   Of course, as he knocked his foot into the object he was given a proper view of what seemed to be some bulging within his shoes. The brown leather of the toecap seeming to have garnered a level of bumpiness that it did not have prior. Guess his changes hadn't stopped during all this introspection.

   And assumption would be a correct one as all while Cato was thinking about the ramifications of the transformation, things had moved beneath his waist and started to properly layer onto the lower half of his body. The newfound broadness of his body that came from both the muscle and the fat resulted in the diameter of his waist increasing a bit and putting some stress onto the waistband of his jeans. This pressure had manifested most prominently at the button holding the fly of his pants shut. Although due to his wider waist and the weight of his gut it didn't take long for that button to break as well.

   Meanwhile the increase in muscle mass has finally become apparent in his legs. Both thighs were rapidly thickening, hamstrings and quadriceps burgeoning to the point that the new thickness had already begun breaking the seams of his legwear. This allowed a few hairs to poke out from the tears, proving that the sprouting of follicles had been rushing down his legs as well. It seemed as though the changes in his legs were not unlike those that happened to his arms earlier. 

   The lower half of his legs were quick to follow. Once the transformation jumped past his knees, the hairiness seemed to increase quite drastically while his calf muscles bulged outwards. Bulkier and rounder, everything indenting into the denim while simultaneously splitting it apart. All the while the concurrent sensations of burning heat and raw strength continuously spiraled and practically coiled around his legs like it had to the rest of his body. It was strange, it was mildly overwhelming, and it was… stimulating, in a way.

   Last had been his feet. More black hairs continued to sprout across the top of them as yet again a substantial amount of weathering seemed to overlay his skin. The size of both feet increased as the width and length stretched larger, and the overall thickness of them was in the process of increasing as well. All of this combined caused his footwear to rapidly become ill-fitting. Sides of each foot digging into the insides of his boots, heels pressing into the back, bridge straining against the tongue and strings that held it shut. Then there had been his toes, steadily getting chunkier as well while squeezing up against the topcap of what he was wearing.

   “And here I thought I looked unprofessional before…” Cato muttered at the sight of his ready-to-burst shoes, alongside his generally ripped up clothing. He had also made a mental note about his voice changing still. Deepening still while developing a layer of huskiness to it that it didn't have before. It almost sounded like it had been aging alongside him.

   Then again, he needs all that age and experience…

   Cato blinked in confusion at the thought.  He was also still clutching the side of his head. “Urgh, head’s feelin’ foggy still-”

   His attention had been drawn away from the lower half of his body. This resulted in his focus not being there once his now larger feet broke apart his shoes. The toecap peeled away from the soles as his now lengthier appendages pushed forward and were freed from their confines.

   Although by now things were finally starting to creep up his neck as well. The region thickened a bit to better fit his new proportions. Internally things had shifted a bit more, vocal cords settling into their alterations with the intention of making the deep and aged huskiness of his voice permanent.

   “Grrugh, this isn't… right…?” Cato expressed to himself. The statement felt wrong though. Denying this felt wrong. How could this intense feeling of… of power feel wrong. That thought only made Cato groan some more as he now held both sides of his head with his hands.

   Meanwhile his head had also been in the process of transforming. One of the most prominent portions of this transformation had been in his facial hair. The beard and mustache he had usually sported deepened from their usual blonde to a dark black. Hairs grew down the sides of his mouth in order to join the two portions of facial hair together. Meanwhile the surface area of his face that was bearded seemed to grow with the thick growth of hairs running across his jawline. This would cause the density to become quite substantial as well with his beard continuing to attain a level of bushiness that would fit his more bearish body. Furthermore, it seemed the initial spikiness that had carried over from his old facial hair would get smoothed over as his new beard combed itself into a neater, more well-kept style.

   Concurrent with his facial hair alterations were the shifts in his facial structure. As hairs sprouted across and overtook his jawline it pressured and restructured into a broader and rounder shaping. This came with the rest of his skull broadening as well. The attributes of his face would end up heavily altering as this occurred. A straightness entering into his nasal bridge while a roundness encompassed the ala and apex of it. His ears pulled back a bit so as to not stick out the sides of his head too much. And while the structuring of his eyes didn't alter too heavily, his eyebrows took on a shade of black while the ends neatened to a point and the overall shape of them became more of a high arch instead of straight. However the most drastic of these changes had been what happened to his skin. 

   Heavy amounts of weathering embedded within it, practically darkening it a little bit as it did so. Years of age settled into the once young man’s face with him rapidly leaving his 20s for his 30s, then 40s. More and more age settling in with deep laugh lines etching around his mouth and various wrinkles forming to continue doing away with what smoothness his face once had. 40s would move onto 50s, eye bags would form beneath his eyes while a scar slashed into his right eye. By this point it would also seem like the new texture of his skin was more leathery than anything else. Although the aging would stop here with Cato having taken on the appearance of a man in his really late-50s.

   Of course this would also mean the rest of his hair had to change to fit. More and more brightness continued to fade from it all as a wave of black overtook each and every follicle. Furthermore there had even been faint streaks of gray running through his hair and beard as well, seemingly added during the rapid progression of age. As this occurred the stylization of his hair seemed to shift heavily. While it retained its thickness, the messy and unkempt spikiness of it was dispelled. Instead it would all comb into a much neater, straighter, swept-back style. One that accentuated a more professional appearance in the man than what he had before. 

   “Fuckin’ hell-” the now much-older man yelled in frustration. His physical transformation had slipped his mind at this point as the mental components were reaching a level of prominence that were noticeable. That level of anger that was practically uncharacteristic for Cato was enveloping him as his brain wallowed in conflict that he couldn't just casually ignore. Everything was becoming so contradictory. 

   His brain was just being overridden with thoughts and memories and desires that weren't his. And in truth he couldn't even tell what he was anymore! His mind tried in futility to hold onto the portions of identity that were the self that came in here, but the longer that damned orb continued to keep its misty tendrils on him the more things continued to slip. The menacing, brutal anger and frustration overtook his former, calmer personality. Niceties were melted down into a distinct lack of care and understanding for anyone but himself. In general it would seem like he was experiencing a corruption of greed and an attainment of a lust for power in mere seconds. It was overwhelming.

   So all the man could do was groan again before saying, “Get out of my head!” It's questionable which part of himself was urging the other to leave though. There was too much of an imbalance in his mentality, one that was rapidly being corrected by the magic of the green crystal. And considering that rising temperament and arrogance it was already clear which of the two dueling personalities was winning…

   The effect of the transformation still hadn't come to an end physically however. His clothes were still ill-fitting for someone of his position and that was something that had to be corrected. Splotches of black rapidly enveloped the cyan of his undershirt as the material seemed to thicken just a bit. As this occurred a split seemed to form in the middle of it as fastened buttons materialized up and down the middle of the clothing article. All the while the sleeves seemed to lengthen to cover the entirety of both arms. There had also been the shirt’s neck that grew as well, rising upwards around his own neck before folding downwards to create a shirt collar. The t-shirt had seemingly morphed into a dress shirt. A change in formality that was accentuated by the manifestation of a red tie that snaked beneath the collar. 

   Similar shifts had occurred in his jeans and boots. The blue denim shifted drastically as black washed into it as well, the hard material restructuring into a material more fitting for formalwear. Rips and tears would easily fix themselves as well while their size increased to fit the man’s wider stance and thicker legs. So much so that the muscularity would no longer be prominent through the material. Meanwhile the rough texture of his boots smoothed over, brown shifting into black as a sleek leather look overtook them. Yet again would the strange effect of the crystal also end up fixing and refitting his footwear while also causing the strings to sink into the material to be replaced by new ones on the growing top line. 

   All of these changes in clothing paled in comparison to the part of his attire that ended up undergoing the most drastic transformation though… his flannel. Red patterning rapidly faded as a dark green completely enveloped it all. Rips and tears and improper sizing were all fixed in mere moments as the once soft material thickened and practically roughened a bit. The shirt’s split moved closer to the middle of his body, seemingly ready to refasten itself, meanwhile the hem of his shirt steadily inched downwards bit by bit. The cuffs of both sleeves lengthened a bit as yellow accents circled the end of them, alongside the formation of three golden cufflinks on each sleeve. The collar of his flannel seemed to lengthen by just enough that it could graze his face, meanwhile the shirt’s split folded a bit to gain a lapel. The rightward segment of the split also seemed to gain a thick yellow accent that had a series of black buttons lining it in two columns. These allowed it to fasten itself over the leftward segment. Although both segments seemed to gain belt-like additions that could also be fastened to these buttons but seemed to remain not. Although an actual belt seemed to material over the shifting attire and around his waist. It was made of black leather and buckled with a golden diamond-shaped buckle. The hem of his ‘shirt’ continued to lengthen beneath the belt, rapidly doing so until it was just short of his thighs. It would seem his flannel shirt had fully morphed into a military tunic.

   With his clothing shifted, the physical aspect of his changes came to an end. And considering the fact the blue coloration of his eyes was rapidly shifting to a brown it would seem the mental aspects had been slowing down as well. The once foreign thoughts were rapidly becoming a mainstay as what was his former self was being pushed out by this new identity. Memories and confirmations of who he is now overlayed, if not almost fully replacing, what existed of his old life.

   His grunts and groans slowed as his frustrated holding of the sides of his head ended. Both hands slipped down to his sides as he blinked. The man, Heidegger, let out a deep sigh, then let out a hearty laugh. “GYAHAHA!! That was quite the scuffle!”

   His gaze then went down to the green orb on the floor. Bending down, he picked it up and analyzed it. “Didn't know Materia could do somethin’ like that. Impressive…”

   “So I take it you won out over that man, Heidegger?”

   Heidegger stood back up and turned towards the source of the voice. Coming out of a door at the room’s back was President Shinra, with Scarlet arriving not long after.

   “Yup,” Heidegger idly bounced the ball of Transform materia in his hand. “Rather easy too, despite him putting up a bit of resistance.”

   “They always seem to,” the President responded as he took his seat again. “Of course those with weaker wills succumb to the influence of that materia one way or another. Speaking of, hand it over. I don't need you breaking our one way to reform this company.”

   Heidegger rolled his eyes before placing the orb on the table and nudging it towards the company president. “Reform the company, eh?”

   Shinra nodded. “Exactly. Since my arrival here I've made it paramount to re-establish the Shinra Power Company, alongside our respective positions in the social hierarchy.”

   “Interesting,” Heidegger smirked. His heavy footsteps could be heard as he made his way to the one unoccupied seat closest to the president, which had also been the one positioned opposite to Scarlet. Although he had purposely been ignoring her this whole time-

   “Well, you know with how loyal I am to you that I'd be very happy to help with this endeavor,” Heidegger eyed Shinra with a cruel smile. Part of him was already hoping that they'd be able to reform Shinra’s military sect. Doing so might even make procuring victims relatively easier. 

   “Now then, might I suggest something to you?”