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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match - Part 5

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You find yourself in the middle of a predicament.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: SMUT as always, sort of public sex??? Unprotected sexy times, emotional damage lmao

A/N: Buckle up, babies!!! You’re in for a rollercoaster ride for this chapter ajckjasncjak I apologize in advance and please don’t hate me

AND BTW if you guys haven’t seen, I found the perfect playlist for this series lmao I saw the title and I was like HOLD UP this is perfect https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Eg5ZH6wMq4iocF5fWSesb?si=aff157a6198a4446

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Still awake, baby?

Fuck.

You screamed into your pillow upon reading Bucky’s text. It was quarter to midnight and you couldn’t sleep, especially not after Bucky told you that he wanted to make the relationship official.

It’d only been three months and you felt like he was moving too fast. And when he promised that he would find a way to snatch your heart the old-fashioned way? You wanted to explode because obviously, he already did.

But you weren’t going to say that to someone who already had a huge ego (and cock, too).

You composed yourself and typed in your reply, throwing your phone to your side after sending it.

Yeah. Why are you still up tho?

Not even a minute later and your phone began to ring. You sat up on your bed and squeezed your pillow, hating how Bucky had such an effect on you. Jesus, what are you, a high school student?!

You stared at his name on your screen before swiping and accepting the call.

“What’s up?” You answered as calmly as you could.

Bucky’s low chuckle sounded so fucking sexy that you had to bite your lower lip to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Still working. Can’t concentrate though, I keep remembering how you looked like with my cock in your mouth.”

You exhaled through your nose, “Jesus, you’re insatiable.” You said.

“Only for you, baby. You know that.” He said and your heart did a little somersault inside your chest.

“Don’t stay up too late, you have an early meeting tomorrow, right?” You asked, trying to change the topic because if you didn’t, you were sure how things would go.

Bucky let out another chuckle, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll just finish signing some papers and then I’m off to bed.”

You hummed and laid back down on the bed. It was completely silent but it wasn’t awkward. You heard the shuffling of paper on Bucky’s end, followed by the squeaking of a chair.

“You still there?” Bucky asked.

“Mhmm, you done?” You asked back.

“A few more papers left, baby. Can you wait ‘til I finish?”

There was something about talking to Bucky on the phone like this, so casual and so...mundane. It felt natural and comfortable, to think that this was the first phone conversation you had with him. He only sent you texts previously so this was new, but you had to admit, you loved it.

Bucky heard you yawning and let out a soft laugh. He sounded sleepy too when he spoke, “Almost done.” He reassured.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow.” He added.

“Yeah, okay. As long as it’s not in the same restaurant we went to after my promotion.” You groaned at the memory.

Bucky snorted, “We’re banned there, babe. Even if I wanted to go back there, they wouldn’t allow it.” He said.

“No shit, Sherlock. We got caught in their bathroom, of course they’ll ban us.” You huffed out.

“I was looking forward to dessert, you know.” You pouted.

“I got my dessert though.” You could hear Bucky’s smug smirk through the phone.

“Are you done?” Bucky whispered into your ear as he placed an arm on the back of the booth.

You shivered at his voice and nodded, grabbing your champagne and drinking it in one go.

“I promised you something, didn’t I? That I’ll give you something right before dessert? Meet me in the bathroom in five. Again, don’t be late.”

And with that, Bucky slid out of the booth and adjusted his suit before leaving for the bathroom. You clutched your heart and waved at the waiter who passed by, requesting for a refill and downing it before following Bucky.

You adjusted the black dress that Bucky bought you, you were surprised at how perfect the fit was. The lovely dress though, made you uncomfortable because of its length and the fact that Bucky still had your panties with him was making you feel even more conscious.

You were immediately pulled into the men’s bathroom as soon as you got there. Bucky tugged you into one of the cubicles and wasted no time to bend you over, lifting your skirt up to squeeze your ass.

“I knew I picked the right dress, you look good enough to eat.” Bucky grunted as he unbuckled his belt.

You moaned and pressed your palms against the door, pushing out your ass towards Bucky until you felt him line his tip up to your entrance. In one swift move, Bucky bottomed out and didn’t give you enough time to adjust.

It was fast and violent, the way Bucky fucked you inside that stall. Both of you were too caught up in the pleasure to even hear the commotion happening outside.

“Not gonna last long, Bucky...” you whimpered, feeling your legs tremble.

You’d been on edge the entire time, having been denied your orgasm earlier. And Bucky kept on squeezing your thigh teasingly during dinner, palm always inching higher until it settled close to your bare mound.

Of course, you wouldn’t last long!

“I know, baby.” Bucky said, sucking the skin on your exposed shoulder as he continued to fuck you from behind.

Once done with the sex escapade, the both of you were welcomed by the restaurant’s manager with a disapproving (and scarred) look on his face.

You blushed at the memory, “Let’s not do that again, please?” You said.

Bucky laughed, “Fine, fine. But dinner tomorrow, okay?”

You yawned at the same time you hummed, “Just dinner.”

“Wholesome dinner.” He confirmed. “Alright, I’m done with work. Sleep now, baby.” He cooed and you nodded even though Bucky couldn’t see you.

You heard footsteps and then the sound of the door closing shut.

“Good night, baby.”

“Hmm, good night, Bucky.”

To say you were giddy the next day was an understatement. You were on cloud nine after having a phone conversation with Bucky last night. You even greeted Janet the snitch a very good morning when you shared the elevator with her.

You entered your floor and offered everyone a smile, but you also noticed that they seemed to be preoccupied talking to each other.

“What’s up?” You asked Martha and the other girls who were huddled together.

“Haven’t you heard?” She asked. “Sophia shared an elevator ride with Mister Barnes earlier. He called a flower shop, asked for their most expensive bouquet and then went on to make dinner reservations at an elite restaurant!”

You paled at the discovery and cleared your throat, “And that’s a big deal because?”

Martha snickered, “Girl, we’re talking about James Barnes here, a rich and eligible bachelor. It is a big deal. And ugh, I wonder who the lucky lady is! What I’d do to be her.” Martha dreamily said.

“Do you think it’s an employee here? Fuck, I’d be so envious if that girl happens to be working here!” Sophia added.

“Is that even allowed? Sounds pretty scandalous to me.” Kate chimed in.

“Oh my god. Remember the pantry incident that Janet reported? What if that was Mister Barnes and his girl? Damn, that’s juicy. It’d be horrifying if they get caught.” Kate added.

Your head felt light-headed at all the information that was going on. Hearing their conversations felt like a bucket of iced water was being poured on you. It was like a moment of a major realization.

Shit, what has gotten into you, getting all tangled up in this mess? Damn you, Tinder!

Even if Bucky agreed to take things slow, you realized that it wouldn’t really help. If news got out that you were dating the CEO of your company, you’d still receive some backlash for it.

Maybe making it official wasn’t the right thing to do. At least, not yet.

“Ladies, gossip time is over.” You announced and tried to stay calm. “And speaking of Barnes, I need to submit a report.”

You nervously knocked on Bucky’s door, hoping that he was back from his early morning meeting. You could hear him talking inside and thought that maybe he was busy.

“Come in.” He called before you could even turn around.

Slowly, you opened the door and slipped inside his office. Bucky was on his chair, talking to someone over the phone. When he saw that it was you, he quickly put his phone on mute and smiled.

“Yes, baby? What do you need?” He asked softly.

Goddammit! Bucky was surely getting used to that pet name. Initially, he’d only call you that in the throes of pleasure. But somehow, Bucky began to use it so casually that it made you nervous. What if he slipped and called you that during a meeting, in front of everyone?

You hated how Bucky was becoming soft and gentle around you, well, except maybe when he was in a certain mood. It was confusing the hell out of you. But you also enjoyed being the only one to witness his soft side.

Was his offer to make things official because he truly liked you or was the fucking that good to make him want to commit all of a sudden?

“I uhh, I think I’ll just come back later if you’re busy.” You stammered.

Bucky held up a finger and then unmuted his phone, “Hey, something important came up. I’ll call you again later.” He said and quickly ended the call before turning to you.

“You know I’m never too busy for you.” He said, his eyes the softest you’d ever seen.

There goes your heart.

“I think...” you trailed, not sure how you were going to say it.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you, urging for you to continue. You heaved out a deep sigh. Your hands balled into fists at your side as you walked closer to his desk.

“Can we raincheck on the dinner tonight?” You asked.

Bucky frowned, “Why?”

You shrugged, “No reason.”

“Lie to me one more time and I’ll have you on my lap for some spanking.”

How the hell does Bucky do that? Become all sweet and soft and then rough and dominating all of a sudden?!

You squeezed your thighs together because the image of Bucky’s hand landing on your ass was doing things to you. You willed yourself not to give in, you came here for a reason.

“There are rumors about you. Someone heard you making dinner reservations and now everyone’s talking about it. I just...” you paused to check Bucky’s reaction but as usual, you couldn’t read his face.

“Maybe making this official isn’t...the right thing to do.”

Bucky pushed himself up from the chair slowly and stalked towards you. Was he mad? Fuck, you hoped he wasn’t. When he reached you, his hand came up to brush your cheek with his knuckles.

“What do you want then?” He asked.

Shit, you never actually thought about it. What do you want? Keep things casual between you and Bucky? Completely stop whatever it was that was going on between the two of you?

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“I like you.” Bucky stated and stepped back. “You’re intelligent and you don’t take shit from anyone, myself included. When you said you wanted to take things slow, I agreed to it. Hence, the flowers and dinner. Now that I’m giving it to you, you still don’t want it.”

Bucky’s livid. He was composed but the way his jaw tensed as he spoke was enough proof that he was mad, really mad. It’s his calm demeanor despite being angry that somehow scared you. The calm before the storm. What the storm was going to be? You didn’t know and honestly, you weren’t sure whether it was something that you even want to find out.

Maybe you were being confusing or indecisive but only because things happened too quickly for you to even properly process it. To think that you addressed your concerns last night, you actually that Bucky understood where your feelings were stemming from. However, it seemed to have gone over his head.

“Bucky, I don’t think you’re getting my point here.” You explained, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“If you heard what your employees have been saying about you and your...girl, you’d understand.” You said and placed your hands on your hips.

Bucky made a face, “Then make me understand. What did you hear?” he asked.

“We already talked about this last night! They’d think that the promotion was given to me because we fucked! That’s going to taint my image for the rest of my life.” You huffed out.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand as he paced back and forth, “They’re idiots if they think of that. What do you want me to do? Give a detailed presentation why I decided to promote you? Go through your evaluation one by one? He sarcastically said.

“Oh my god, Bucky. You really don’t get it, do you?” You let out a humorless laugh.

He shrugged, “You’re confusing the hell out of me. Just tell me what the hell you want to happen.”

“Maybe I just want keep things professional.” You blurted out in the spur of the moment.

You didn’t mean it. You so didn’t mean it. Fuck. You word vomitted and now you were going to regret it.

Something in Bucky ticked, you saw it. He approached you until he was towering over your frame. It was intimidating to say the least, the way Bucky stared down at you with a blank expression on his face.

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky asked, his eyes looking down at your lips for a quick second before moving back up to your eyes.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.” you retorted and you’re not sure why.

Bucky exhaled through his nose and this time, you could read his face. He was fuming.

“I told you, you’re mine.” He said through gritted teeth.

The tension in the air was thick. The close proximity was making you dizzy, Bucky was so close that his scent was invading your senses. His jaw was clenched tightly as he looked down at you with piercing eyes and you were so tempted to just grab his face and kiss him and tell him that you liked him too.

But of course, your pride just had to be in the way.

“You don’t own me, Bucky. I am my own person.”

Another word vomit. You were Bucky’s the moment he laid his hands on you and you liked it.

Bucky inhaled and shrugged, loosening up before taking a step back. “So you want to keep it professional, huh?”

No.

“Yes.”

Bucky nodded, “You’re lying. I know you are. But okay then, professional it is. Let’s see how long you can keep lying to yourself.”

You watched Bucky walk back to his desk, sitting down on his chair with his arms crossed over his wide chest. His face was void of any emotion all of a sudden, he didn’t even look angry anymore and you hated how you couldn’t seem to figure him out.

“Anything else you’d like to discuss?” he asked, the professional tone of his voice sending chills down your spine, but not in a good way.

You slightly nodded, placing a folder on top of his desk before backing away. “It’s this month’s report.”

“Okay. You’re dismissed.” He casually said, grabbing the folder and skimming through your report as if you weren’t standing right in front of him.

You felt a pang of pain hit you right in the heart when he looked up at you questioningly, as if he was wondering why the fuck you still haven’t left his office. At that moment, you wanted to take back all the things you said and just give in to your damn feelings.

But would you really let your career nosedive just to be with Bucky? You weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

You straightened up and maintained a calm demeanor, “That’s all. Thanks, Bucky.”

“That’s Mister Barnes for you.”

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#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #sebastian stan

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bonky-n-steeb · 4 years ago

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𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #mob!steve #dark!bucky #mob!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader

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tonystarksfavoritedaughter · 4 years ago

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Crazy Rich Avengers: Chapter 2

Peter Parker x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tony is oblivious, Shuri is a queen as always, Peter is breakfast man and Y/N’s a grandma

Warnings: swearing and one mention of sex

Word count: 2589

*Flashback to Wednesday*

“Alright troops, let’s get this party started.” Tony walked into the debriefing room that was used for only meetings, but this week it had a new purpose: discussing Wanda and Vision’s wedding plans. Everyone was gathered around a circular table with plans and maps strewn out across the table.

“What made you guys want to get married in Maui?” Nat turned to Wanda and Vision. Wanda simply shrugged, “We just wanted to see what the island has to offer.”

“Plus Mr. Stark has that lovely beach house in Spreckelsville,” Vision added.

“Are y’all inviting Peter and Y/N to the wedding?” Sam asked

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we?” Wanda seemed kind of offended that Sam would ask that. She was very close with Peter and the way he talked about you always made her warm inside knowing that he found someone he really loved. She was kind of like a second aunt to him in a way, though no one could top Aunt May.

“Oh, I love Y/N so much. Did you guys tell her happy birthday two weeks ago?” Nat asked.

A couple of ‘I forgot’’ and ‘Oh shit’ replies made their way into the group and Nat just shook her head.

“Wait wait wait. Who’s Y/N?” Tony was so confused. He had never heard of a Y/N Y/L/N before. Was she an employee close with Wanda? And why was she with Peter?

“What do mean who’s Y/N?” Steve asked.

“She’s Peter’s girlfriend, Stark.” Bucky stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it kind of was. Peter would come into the Compound on the weekends sometimes for training and just gush about you to everyone and even Bucky seemed to know who you were. And he never pays attention to Peter. Tony just sat there, not knowing what to say to hearing his intern having a girlfriend.

“Pete has girlfriend?” How come you all knew and I didn’t?”

Thor took a swig of his drink. “Because you do not listen to the Man of Spiders.”

At this moment Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye walk in, with papers and blueprints in only T’Challa and Okoye’s hands, while Shuri sips her iced coffee, like the bad bitch she is.

“Hey what’s up losers?” She walked in and took the papers from their hands and spread them out on the table. She turned to Wanda and Vision. “Okay so I developed a knew sound system for the reception that does not require a DJ, and you can choose which one you want!” They all look at the plans and sure enough, there were about four different designs that they could choose from. Wanda and Vision had put Shuri in charge of all the technological elements of the wedding because she was clearly the smartest out of all of them.

T’Challa stepped up to the table. “Sorry we are late; my sister had to bring all of her designs and took about three hours to pack.”

“What? I have to look my best for the wedding. We all know you just throw clothes into a suitcase and call it a day.” She turned towards everyone else. “The only shoes he brought were his flip flops.”

“What you don’t like my royal sandals?” He puts up his foot to show off his shoes and turned to Okoye for support. She just shook her head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this, but if I were to choose a side, I agree with Shuri.”

Shuri laughed in T’Challa’s face and fist bumped Okoye and he looked at them and shook his head.

“What do you two know what fashion?” He asked.

“More than you,” they both said at the same time. This got everyone laughing around the table and Steve did his classic belly laugh where he grabbed the side of his chest and basically fell over.

Shuri turned to Wanda, “So, whose all invited to your big day?”

“Well, we invited Peter and Y/N –“

“Yes! Sorry I just can’t wait to meet her for the first time. Go on.”

Wanda laughed, “Aren’t we all? Also, Peter’s friend Ned is invited because he helps us all out on missions. What is it he calls himself?”

“The Guy in the Chair,” Vision replied.

“Ah yes, and of course all of you people. We wanted to keep it small,” Wanda finished.

“You know,” Sam started, turning to the royal bunch. “Stark over here didn’t know that Pete had a girlfriend.”

“What?” They all three gasped.

Okoye spoke this time, “We live all the way in Wakanda, and knew about this. You live twenty minutes away.”

“We know. It’s ridiculous,” Rhodey spoke.

“Okay and is there a specific song that you are walking down to?” Shuri asked.

“We chose the song ‘To My Future Wife’ by Mr. Jon Bellion,” Vision replied

“Oh, I love his songs!”

“We figured it represented our love for each other,” Wanda looked at Vision and gave him a peck on the lips, with hearts in both of their eyes. A bunch of aw’s filled the room as a response to the couple.

*Flashback ends*

You wake up at around three thirty in the morning to your alarm. You were essentially trapped in Peter’s arms and had to pry yourself out to get up and get ready. You threw a pillow at him to wake him up.

“What was that for?” He groaned.

“Come on. We got to get up or we’ll miss the flight.”

He got up with a sigh and got ready. He just dressed in jeans and that tight black t-shirt that you loved. Why would he pick that for a flight? You bit your lip and just turned away getting ready yourself. You picked out your black leggings and a white shirt because you wanted to be comfy for the 12+ hour flight ahead of you.

You packed your purse as your carry on which had your phone chargers, headphones, perfume, you know, the essentials for flying.

“What are we going to do for breakfast?” He asked. Peter was a breakfast man and so deciding what to eat in the morning was very important for him.

“There’s a coffee place at the airport; don’t worry, Pete.”

You left your apartment at around four in the morning and made sure that everything was turned off and nothing was out of the ordinary. You two take an Uber to JFK and almost fell asleep again. One thing was for sure, you were taking a nap as soon as you got on the plane. When you got there, you checked in with the front desk and saw that your flight would take off at 5:30am. So, you took Peter to the little coffee stand in the airport to get him some energy and food. He got a mocha iced coffee with a blueberry scone and you got a caramel macchiato and a breakfast bagel. You sat down near where your flight would be boarding and ate your food. You were so excited to eat because your favorite breakfast item was just a good bacon, egg, and cheese bagel. You bit into it and sighed out in a state of peace.

You had downloaded a few episodes of your favorite shows on your laptop so you and Peter could watch them together. You had downloaded some from The Office, Brooklyn 99, Parks and Rec, and The Good Place. You pulled out your laptop and headphones and gave one earbud to Peter so he could watch too. You decided to watch the episode of The Office where Michael hosts the Fun Run for Rabies.

About an hour later they started to board for your flight and packed everything up and walked over to the flight attendant.

“Right this way,” she said. She led you past the economy class and into first class and you started to get suspicious. There was no way you could afford this. Sure, you had some money put into savings, but it wasn’t much. She led you into one of cabins and you put your purse down.

“Uh ma’am?” You called out.

“Yes?”

“Um there must be some mistake, I mean… we’re economy people. Like, we’re broke, there’s no way that we’re in first class.”

“Are you sure? You two are Y/N Y/L/N and Peter Parker, right?” She asked confused.

“Tony, I swear,” Peter sighed.

“What?”

“I told Mr. Stark to not upgrade us because we were fine, but I guess he didn’t listen.”

“Oh.”

The flight attendant walked away and you fell on the bed. The cabin had a little TV on the opposite wall and the bed facing it. Night tables were on both sides of the bed with little lamps that made it kind of cozy. You walked around the small room looking at the different little pictures of beaches from different countries. There were a set of silk pajamas on your nightstand and you held them up to Peter.

“These are nicer than my actual clothes!” Peter just laughed at how excited you were and pulled you down on the bed. He rubbed your thighs and started to kiss your neck and sucked lightly and slowly worked his way up to your ear and nibbled on it.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I am not having sex on a plane,” you laughed.

He laid down on the bed with you, “Well what do you wanna do then?”

“Tell me about everyone that’s going to be there. I want to be prepared to meet them when we get there.”

“Okay for starters, there’s Wanda and Vision, Wanda has like these mind-reading powers, so be careful about what you’re thinking around her. There have been plenty of times where I’ve thought about you in an adult way that’s caused her to not to be near me sometimes. But she’s awesome. She’s kind of like my second aunt when May’s not around; we’re really close.”

“Good to know. It’s also a good thing she’s not here right now because all I can think about is you in that shirt,” you wink at him.

He laughs and kisses your nose, “Vision is also pretty cool. You’ve seen Vision in like pictures and everything so you know he can shift between robot and human form, so that’s cool. Um, he’s just really chill and laid back. There’s also Sam and Bucky.”

“Oh yeah you’ve told me about them. Do they still tease you a lot?”

“Not much anymore, but I’m sure they will when they see us together,” he sighed. Yesterday when he went to the Compound for his camera, they had mentioned that Peter wouldn’t be getting much packing done if he knew what they meant. Peter did know what they meant and just rolled his eyes at them.

“Sam’s pretty cool when he’s not teasing me, and then he’s kind of a jerk, but overall he’s cool; you’ll probably get along more with him than anyone. He’s got a good sense of humor so,” he trailed off.

“Oh okay. Now what about Bucky?”

“Bucky still doesn’t really like me, all because of what happened in Berlin.”

“Sounds like he’s petty.”

“Yeah he kind of is,” he laughed.

He goes through telling you about all the Avengers and what they’re like. They all sounded pretty chill and fun to hang around.

“By the way, Ned is going to be there.”

“What? Really?” You neatly shouted because you haven’t seen him since about a month before college classes started. He had gone all the way to MIT for college, and the last time you saw him, was when you and Peter had helped him move into his dorm.

“Why is he going?”

“He’s like our ‘Guy in the Chair’ for the team. Tells us where to go on missions, and helps out with the team, so I guess Wanda and Vision wanted him there.”

“At least there will be someone I know and close with,” you laugh at Peter’s fake hurt expression.

“You’ll have me, baby.”

“Yeah, but you’ll probably be talking to everyone and doing wedding stuff and I’ll be just hanging out. But now I have Ned! Now, tell me about Mr. Tony Stark. I know he’s kind of like your father-figure as you put it sometimes. Do you think he’ll like me, or will he go all Papa Bear on me and tell me that I’m not good enough?” You joked.

“He should be cool with you. Mr. Stark’s a pretty easy-going guy so I don’t think there will be a problem. Unless you try to crash the wedding,” he smiled.

“Yeah I’m totally gonna crash it and just get shit-faced at the wedding.” It was now close to seven o’clock in the morning and you and Peter were wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep and still had another thirteen hours to go, so you just pulled your laptop back out and put on one of your shows and cuddled with Peter.

He held your waist against his and laid his head on top of yours. Your arms were wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, watching TV. You stayed like this for a couple of hours. You eventually got bored and started playing a game on your phone.

“Whatcha playing?” He asked.

“Candy Crush.”

He laughed at your game choice. “You’re such a grandma.”

“What? Just because I like candy crush that makes me grandma?’

“Yep.”

You lightly slap his chest as a response and watched his smile turn wide into a laugh. God those eye crinkles, I swear, you thought. It was kind of true though, everyone in your family and in high school called you the grandma friend of the group because you picked crocheting and baking of all hobbies, just like a grandma. And apparently Candy Crush was now considered a grandma game.

“Okay, I’d like to see you beat an ultra-hard level where you only have twenty moves to save 10 gummy bears,” you challenged him.

“Is that seriously a level on there?”

“Yes, and I beat it on the first try. Why, you scared?”

“No, had me your phone.”

You gladly give it to him and throughout the level you have to hold in your laughs because seeing his face scrunch up in frustration may have been the best thing ever.

“Shit!” He exclaimed

“What, did you lose?”

“No,” he lied. You held out your hand for your phone and saw that he lost on the level.

“Ha! Loser,” you poked his chest as you teased him. “It’s a shame you lost though, because losers don’t get prizes.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s my prize?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. “Guess you got to win if you want to find out.”

This time he held out his hand for your phone. “Just know, you got four more chances to win before you run out of lives.” Peter tried so hard at the game and gently slammed your phone in frustration and you giggled. Let’s just say that Peter didn’t get his prize. The rest of the flight consisted of watching TV and eating the surprisingly amazing airline snacks. When the nighttime came, the flight attendants turned all the lights off, kind of like a silent go to sleep call for all the passengers. You and Peter snuggled up against each other and waited for the rest of the flight to be over.

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29 @spideyspeaches @binnotjin @lolooo22 @multi-universe21 @ladykxxx08

A/N: We got an Avengers flashback! Yay! I really wanted to incorporate the Wakandan bunch because a) Black Panther is my favorite movie, and b) They are all just amazing and I love the way that Shuri and Okoye tease T’Challa all the time and wanted to put that in this. The whole Candy Crush scene had actually happened to me before and I thought it would be nice to add a piece of me in the story, and Candy Crush is honestly underrated if you ask me lol. I hope you all really like this chapter, because the next one is going to be awesome! Thank you all for reading!

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x y/n #peter parker series

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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beatles-slash-fiction · 3 years ago

Note

Sorry, missclick.

It's "beatles. Fucking. Hard."

yknow like ugh poly beatles after a show giving all they got

I'm horny im sorry

Have a nice night bee we love ya

Ringo has noticed since joining the group that the four of them will be in one of two distinct moods following a show.

The first, which is the most common, is complete and utter exhaustion. This tends to occur if they’ve had a long day of travel, or if they’ve been mobbed by a particularly large crowd outside their hotel, or if they’ve quarrelled about the set order in their dressing room beforehand.

The second, which is a lot rarer, is pure joy and excitement. This tends to occur if they’ve given a particularly good performance, or if they’ve not been mobbed at all that day, or if they’ve had a few drinks and a joint beforehand.

Luckily tonight it’s the second category.

They’ve had an unusually quiet day and it’s been one of the few days on tour they’ve actually been able to spend some relaxing time together, and Ringo just had a feeling it was going to be a good evening. The show goes incredibly well, they manage to slip out the back afterwards without anyone noticing, and they’re all quite giggly during the car ride to the hotel.

And Ringo knows what that means.

He’s come to learn that when all four of them are in a good mood after a show, very very good sex follows.

Sure enough, as soon as they all stumble through the door of their hotel suite, Ringo finds himself pressed up against the wall by Paul, who starts kissing his neck.

“So,” Paul says before licking Ringo’s jaw. “Do we all want to take a shower together first, or shall we just get right down to it?”

Ringo’s dick twitches. He doesn’t think he’ll make it to the sex if he has to have a shower with these three.

“We’ll only have to shower again afterwards,” John points out, before tackling a giggling George to the bed.

“Very good point,” Paul agrees, reaching for Ringo’s belt.

Ringo’s head thumps against the wall as Paul’s hand finds its way inside his trousers and underwear, and his heart suddenly sounds so loud in his own ears. Paul’s strokes are slow and methodical, and although Ringo can’t see John and George, he can hear George’s little sighs and moans.

Paul unbuttons Ringo’s shirt with his free hand, licking one nipple then the other, and soon Ringo is standing in an awkward pile of his clothes as he’s wanked off slowly.

“Rich,” Paul says, softly, affectionately, touching their foreheads together. “Beautiful Rich.”

Ringo just about catches a glimpse of George on all fours with John very enthusiastically eating him out from behind, before realising he’s being terribly selfish. He drops to his knees and reaches for Paul’s belt, smiling as the younger man strokes his hair.

As he sucks Paul off, Ringo can’t help but reflect on how easy this always seems to be. When he’d been with the Hurricanes, group sex had always been a bit more awkward- no one seemed to really know who to be with first or what to do.

It’s different with the Beatles though. They have their own rhythm, and they can just read each other so easily. And it’s probably the first time Ringo has actually enjoyed giving blowjobs, rather than just doing it to please someone else.

One reflection he does have though is that it’s always very predictable. Not that there’s anything bad with that- but it is always usually the same, even if in a slightly different format.

They’ll pair off during foreplay so that they all get a chance to be with each other, and then they’ll normally fuck as two couples next to each other on the bed. The pairings will change but the basic formula stays the same.

Sure enough, after sucking Paul off for a few minutes, Ringo finds himself being pulled away by John for a kiss while Paul and George pass a bottle of lube between each other on the bed.

“Look at them together,” John purrs. “Fucking beautiful, eh? They’re gonna finger each other open ready for us, Ringo. Ready for us to fuck them into the mattress.”

Ringo could never get tired of watching Paul and George do this, but again it’s nothing new.

John seems to be too excited to notice that Ringo has something on his mind though, and wraps an arm around the smaller man to pull him close. He grabs their cocks in one hand and starts to stroke them together, and grabs Ringo’s arse with the other hand.

Ringo lets himself enjoy it as he keeps his eyes on Paul and George, who are clearly putting on a bit of a show for them.

“You take George, yeah?” John says, pupils blown wide as he gazes at Paul.

Ringo would say that the vast majority of the time he ends up fucking George. And that isn’t a bad thing at all; he adores fucking George, and even though they’ve all told each other that they don’t have favourites and everyone in their relationship is equal, Ringo knows that’s not completely true.

And if he had to pick a favourite...well. He knows who it would be.

But by the time Paul and George are lying side by side on the bed, and Ringo is climbing on top of George, he can’t help but notice George is pouting.

“What’s wrong?” Ringo asks, caressing the younger man’s cheek. “Are you tired?”

George shakes his head. “I was just thinking. We always do this.”

Great minds think alike.

“Eh?” John raises an eyebrow as Paul wraps his legs around his waist. “You mean have sex? Aye, we do that quite a lot.”

“No,” George says with a slight scowl. “I mean we always just end up pairing off like this. And it’s great, don’t get me wrong, but...I dunno. It would be nice if all four of us could have sex together. So we’re like a proper foursome instead of two couples having sex next to each other.”

And that’s when Ringo has an idea.

“There is something we could try,” Ringo says with a grin. “It’s something I did a few times with the Hurricanes.”

The others certainly look intrigued, and Ringo takes a minute to think through how he might choreograph this. If they pull it off, he’s sure it will be something really special.

“Okay,” Ringo says, trying to feign confidence. “John- keep going. Keep Paul on his back and fuck him like that, but keep your back straight. Don’t lean over Paul.”

John does so, entering Paul slowly, and George looks a little sceptical, clearly trying to work out where Ringo is going with this.

Ringo allows John to fuck Paul for just a few minutes before telling them both to hold still.

“Okay. Now, Georgie, you climb on top of Paul. Ride him.”

George raises an eyebrow. “With John still...?”

“Yes.”

George looks a little hesitant as he straddles Paul, glancing over his shoulder at John behind him.

“It’s alright,” Ringo says encouragingly. “You know what to do, Georgie.”

George fumbles with Paul’s cock, trying to line it up with his entrance, but he’s clearly nervous with all eyes on him.

“Here,” Ringo says softly. “I’ll hold this.” He takes hold of Paul’s erection with one hand. “And this.” He takes George’s hand with the other. “And all you have to do is sit.”

George smiles gratefully as he slowly impales himself, and Ringo can’t help but think the three of them look so beautiful together. Joined as one, as close as can possibly be.

“What about you though?” George asks. “You can’t be left out.”

“I won’t be,” Ringo promises, kneeling on the bed next to Paul. “Not if you give me a helping hand.”

He guides George’s hand to his own cock.

“So we just move?” John asks, sounding impatient.

“Yep,” Ringo chuckles. “Pretty much.”

It’s a little clumsy at first. John and George are moving at slightly different paces, although Paul doesn’t seem to mind, and George isn’t focussing enough to give Ringo a decent handjob.

But Ringo tells John to slow down a little and George to try and ride Paul a little faster, and they’re soon finding their rhythm, and George is stroking Ringo much more confidently.

The bed is creaking and shaking as they fuck, and it’s quite possibly the hottest sex they’ve ever had. It’s also the most intimate; it’s the first time they’ve all really been part of a sex act together at the same time.

Paul is the first to come; unsurprising since he’s got a dick inside him and George’s tight heat engulfing his own cock. John follows not soon after, and then George covers Ringo’s lips with his own and they’re coming together; waves of pleasure rolling through them.

Afterwards they untangle themselves and collapse in a heap on the bed, sweaty and exhausted.

“Ringo,” John says breathlessly. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Ringo beams as the others shower him with kisses.

#poly!beatles

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee, Crushes and Complications 2

Okay, this was prompted a lot by the lovely @headfulloffantasy @nobodygtb2 and two anons! I hope I could do the demand justice!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [Prequel] [Part1] [Part3] [Part4]

Tina sighed. She didn’t even have to look up to know who was approaching her first thing the next morning. The RK900 stopped at a respectful distance to her desk and clasped his hands behind his back. He opened his mouth, but Tina interrupted before a single word left his lips. ‘Yes, I think Gavin meant what he said to you yesterday. No, I don’t think he wants to see you again. No, I don’t know how you can win him over.’ The android looked at her in confusion, closed his mouth and opened it again. ‘Don’t try telling me you don’t have a crush on this man’, Tina just warned. The RK900 sighed deeply and pulled over a chair from the neighbouring booth sitting down in front of her. ‘First off, I don’t have a crush, I just admire his work and Reed seems like an extraordinary person-‘ ‘That’s kind of a crush though.’ ‘I don’t-‘ RK900 stopped and grinded his teeth in frustration. ‘Listen, I just want to apologize.’ ‘Yeah, because the last time you tried it worked perfectly’, Tina teased. ‘Maybe it’s because I approached him unexpectedly? Maybe if I could ask for a-‘ ‘A date?’ ‘A meeting’, he stressed. ‘So we can properly talk about it.’

Tina kneaded her forehead. ‘Listen, Rich, you are talking about Gavin Reed here. The guy can’t stand talking properly about anything. And I thought you got his message last time: He doesn’t want your apology. He is happy, he found his place in life. I don’t think your apology will mean much to him. Especially when you have done nothing wrong.’ She looked the android in the eyes. ‘Drop that damn apology. You did apologise and Gavin didn’t care. That’s your part done. Except if what you want from him is more than just that.’ The RK900 glared at her. ‘Hey, all I’m saying is you could ask him out like any normal person.’ ‘I am only interested in having my apology heard’, RK900 spat with a blue-tinted face, then he rolled the chair back and left Tina giggling. Yeah. Sure.

‘Don’t get too used to these snacks’, Gavin laughed as his cat basically inhaled the slimy paste Elijah pressed out of the tube. ‘Daddy did get a raise, but I can’t compete with Eli.’ ‘Oh, I don’t think you will wither away to nothing’, Eli laughed petting Bready with a smile. ‘You get fatter every time I visit.’ ‘Hey, that’s not true’, Gavin protested. ‘You are a lady! Don’t listen to him!’ Eli put away the cat snacks and went back to Gavin on his couch where the cold beer was slowly warming up. ‘Now, tell me, with whom did you sleep to get this raise?’ ‘With your mom’, Gavin muttered back what had Eli nearly choking on his drink. ‘God, Gavin, your mom jokes? Really?’ ‘Hey, with us it’s funny because I can actually say it without bashing myself.’ ‘Still gross.’ ‘Maybe.’

‘So you won’t tell me?’ ‘Urgh, I will but it’s not that interesting. Just embarrassed some rich asshole on camera and made him spill all his shit as he tried to get back on track.’ ‘Do I have to worry?’ Gavin laughed and boxed his shoulder. ‘Hey, not anymore. These days you stopped being a rich asshole. Now you are just rich. I mean come on, you basically presented the police the culprits on a silver plate. Not many people in your position would do this.’ ‘It’s bad for business if someone would find out’, Eli shrugged. ‘Better to get these idiots out of the way now and use it to better our image.’ Gavin looked over to his brother suspiciously. ‘Also androids are people now and it’s against the law to try force them back to be slaves.’ ‘Sure, that one too’, Eli grinned. ‘Seems like you compete hard to regain the title of rich asshole…’ ‘Nah, I’m just getting on your nerves, brother, believe me. I love Chloe like a daughter, even if I wanted to, she wouldn’t let me.’

They sat next to each other for a while and watched how Bready tried to hustle another snack from Elijah. ‘And, any plans for the future?’, Eli asked finally, lifting up his cat to pet her what she accepted begrudgingly playing for the long game. ‘For the future? Hmm, not phcking up what I worked for I guess.’ ‘I meant personally. Are you considering dating again?’ ‘Says the man who decided that he’s fine alone.’ ‘I am’, Eli stressed, allowing no further discussion. ‘But doesn’t mean that’s the life for you.’ Gavin sighed and leaned his head back on the rest closing his eyes. ‘I’m not saying I didn’t consider it. But I’m a bit tired of it. I mean dates and getting to know people is fine, but… Most of the time it’s just an excuse for one-night stands and if I looked for that, I wouldn’t have put in all that effort of trying to figure out whether we fit together or not, you know?’ ‘My little brother being romantic? Is the world ending?’ ‘I mean, I’m successful and happy, might as well… But nah, maybe I am romantic, but I’m done having fun and playing around, I would like something constant in my life. Damn, maybe I’m just getting old?’ Eli laughed. ‘Hey, it’s valid. I understand you. Maybe you could ask Tina, she seems to have a good nose for people.’ ‘Right’, Gavin resigned. ‘”Hey, Tina, didn’t you date a few guys in the beginning? Any of them still available?” Real good idea.’ ‘Just trying to help.’ ‘I know. Let’s talk about something else, okay?’

Elijah had stayed late and although he had helped, Gavin still was left trying to tidy up the kitchen in the evening. After he finally finished cleaning, he decided to check his phone and then head in for the night. It should turn out being a mistake:

>Hello Mr. Reed. >I am sorry for this unexpected message. I found your number by interfacing with Tina’s phone because I don’t know how to reach you any other way. >You have told me you don’t want my pity. I understand that. But I hope you understand my situation as well. I still feel guilty. But I know another apology won’t be accepted by you. >Instead, maybe we could meet for a coffee? To talk about it and get to know each other? From what I’ve seen in your work you are a very interesting man. >I’m sorry if this sounded weird. >I’m new to texting. >Please let me know if that would be acceptable.

Gavin frowned. He had immediately connected the messages to belong to the other Connor, this… Richard? But why did this android bother him again after he basically – no, literally told him to phck off? He read the texts again and hovered over the keyboard. Should he ignore it? Text back? And in what way? He was tempted to just write where the android could stick his words, but it seemed to be a honest concern of the RK. Hell, maybe e should agree just to get rid of him? A part of him was interested in knowing who the new guy was that had replaced him. A part of him he never acknowledged, because he was over his last life, he was over and done with it. He had become better. He had grown. Maybe he should do the right thing and indulge the stupid android. He sighed and began typing.

Fine.< When and where?<

RK900 couldn’t believe what he saw on the display of his phone. >I’m here, where the fuck are you? Well, he couldn’t believe the human had agreed to it in the first place. After how abrasive he had been when they had met in the coffee shop… but well, here they were and RK900 knew he just had to wait and see how it would go. I am sitting at the table in the corner. I see you.< Already got us coffee and something to eat I hope you like.< ‘Damn persistent bot you are’, Gavin sighed as he went over to the table where the Connor-lookalike sat. ‘You agreed to it’, the android shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess I have. Truth to be told, I don’t really know why. I was a bit tipsy, but that’s no explanation.’

RK900 didn’t know how to answer to that and just pushed the coffee and a slice of cake over to the human, who huffed with a smile. ‘At least I do like what you decided to get. By the way, you don’t have to pay for this shit, okay?’ ‘You didn’t accept my apology. See it as indulging an android’s bad conscience.’ Gavin shrugged again and took the first fork of cake. ‘Hey, not saying no to free food.’ ‘Good to hear as I can’t eat it.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. Everything liquid is… fine, although a bit of a mess later on.’ ‘But still you drink coffee?’ ‘Like the taste.’ Gavin smirked, but otherwise said nothing until he had downed half his cake.

‘Alright, bot, what did you want to talk about?’, Gavin asked. ‘My name is Richard.’ ‘That’s a shit name, Dick.’ ‘Please don’t call me that.’ ‘Sure as hell won’t call you Richard. That’s a grandfather’s name. Chose it yourself?’ ‘No’, the android sighed. ‘But it’s what most people called me after I said it’s a name I would consider.’ Gavin huffed from his nose at that. ‘Yeah that sucks.’ ‘I mean I do like it in a way. But I still consider myself RK900.’ ‘Okay, I get how people call you Richard now.’

‘Anyways, what I really wanted to talk about was you.’ ‘Me?’, Gavin asked. ‘Really, that’s a bad decision.’ ‘I am amazed of your work.’ ‘Okay?’ ‘And how you managed to solve some cases… I truly hope to one day be as good as you were.’ Gavin looked the android in the eyes trying to figure out if this was a joke. It wasn’t. Gavin cringed a bit as he answered: ‘Well, I’m sure it’s just experience. Was in this job for seventeen years. You learn a thing or two.’ ‘But you proved remarkable talent from the very beginning’, the android pointed out. ‘Listen, you don’t need to be nice to me. I was a real asshole. I was good at one thing and one thing only and that was my job. I sucked at everything else.’ ‘I’m sure Tina would beg to differ.’ ‘Differing is her phcking hobby.’ That actually made the android laugh. It sounded weird and mechanical. ‘Oh, that’s a good one, need to remember that.’

Gavin looked at the android who grinned wide and caught himself smiling too. Immediately he willed it away. This was supposed to be a one-time thing. Letting the android talk about what bothered him and then never see him again. But… When had he decided that? He thought about what his therapist had told him. Change your old behaviours if you want to change how people see you and better yourself, fake it if you must. Was this old Gavin speaking? Or new Gavin? Phck.

‘She really can be a pain in the ass’, Richard - RK900 – whatever – ripped him out of his thoughts. ‘But she is a good friend.’ ‘You two are friends?’ ‘Yes. She honoured your promise by the way. She never talked about you. That’s actually what made me want to know you for a long time.’ ‘For a long time?’, Gavin asked, lifting one brow. ‘I mean, if you haven’t been active very long I guess everything is a long time. But no, I read a lot about you when I started to work at the police, and I wanted to know the man behind the name.’

Gavin was a bit weirded out and some part of him wanted to shut this conversation down immediately. But he decided against it. Maybe this was worth a shot. ‘Well, then ask away. I’m not that interesting but go ahead.’ Apparently that had been the only sign the android had needed because the questions started to come down like rain: ‘What kind of music do you like?’ ‘Are you a dog person?’ ‘Any hobbies?’ ‘How did you find your new job?’ ‘What’s the name of your cat?’ Initially Gavin had thought to spend an hour max at this café with the android. But the hours flew past as he answered the android’s questions and listened as he shared information on the different topics himself. And as they stood up and left the café with them both awkwardly standing on the street in front of it, Gavin realised he actually had enjoyed this day quite a lot. He looked up at the android, who rubbed his neck and… was that a blush? When they made eye-contact, RK900 spoke up, obviously self-conscious: ‘I… I really liked talking to you, Gav- Mr. Reed?’ ‘Gavin is fine. And I think I- No, I enjoyed it too. You are a nice person. You deserve the job you got, okay?’ And if he hadn’t been sure before, now that blue tint unmistakably was a blush.

‘Would you-‘ ‘Would you like-‘ They looked at each other and burst into laughter. It was Gavin, who recovered first and nodded. ‘Yeah. I would like. Next weekend? Same place same time?’ ‘Gladly.’

[>next part]

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Elijah Kamski #WHY ARE THEY SO CUTE TOGETHER??? I can't understand it.#soft Nines #Damn I wanted to include how Nines becomes Gavin's nickname for RK900 and he likes it a lot. So he is Richard for work and Nines in private #Because I like all names for RK900 but Nines is in my heart #I'll stop rambling

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percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-6)

Word count: 3.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“This is fun!” You rolled the ball along the lane. It didn’t even reach halfway before sliding to the side.

“You actually suck!” Jack exclaimed somewhat surprised. “You weren’t lying about that.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you let him pass to the aisle, carrying another bowling ball. He knocked out 2 pins in the first strike.

You cheered for him as he drew another and in his second turn knocked down four more.

He triumphantly pumped his fists in the air and you high fived him. “That’s more than either of us have accomplished this evening.”

Jack threw a wry look at the girl he had been eyeing all evening. “I don’t think I’ve impressed her.”

The girl in question was a pretty blonde and you had definitely seen her check Jack out at least once. Jack was actually quite good-looking with his soft brown hair and a guileless smile.

“You know what I think?” You winked. “You should go talk to her.”

“Noooooo,” he backed off real quick. “She’s never going to want to talk to me.”

“I’ll bake you those cookies I gave Cas if you do it!”

He made a face. “Aw Y/N! You’re not playing fair.”

You shrugged. “It’s a one time deal. Take it or leave it.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” He glanced at the girl once. “I get the cookies even if she doesn’t agree?”

“Sure do. You just gotta ask her out!”

He gave you one accusing look, then walked over to the girl at the counter. You watched as she smiled sweetly and he nervously scratched his neck. After a few minutes, he came back waving a chit and a huge, disbelieving grin on his face. “She gave me her number. Can you believe that?”

“Whoever would have guessed.” You feigned disinterest.

“This is such a win-win. I got a date on Sunday and I get the cookies,” he sighed happily.

You wanted to reach out and shuffle his hair, so you did and Jack wrinkled his nose at you.

The two of you grabbed a quick bite at a fast food trolley and walked home teasing each other about how sucky the bowling was.

“I thought the ball was going to drag you with it that one time,” Jack said as you opened the door to your apartment.

“Know what?” You said conspiratorially. “I did, too.”

You waved a goodbye and then locked the door behind you, exhausted in the good way. The moment your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep.

**************************

14th August 2008

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do better than that,” Jo encouraged and you threw the ball hard. It still landed at her feet.

“I can’t do this,” you gave up, going to sit under the tree in the park. “I’m tired.”

Jo sighed as she sat down beside you. “It’s been almost a month since your Gran… you know… You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered, plucking the grass at your feet.

She laid back on the grass, staring into the bright blue sky. “It’s just that I know you’re hurting- I know it, but if you don’t tell me what to do, I can’t help you!”

No one could help you. Help could only be given in times of a disaster or a problem. There was no help for the last person left alive in the world. No one was coming for that person… just like no help was coming for you who were the last one left in your world.

“There you are!” Dean Winchester was walking up the small hillock, a wicker basket in his hand. He looked damn good in that leather jacket, the sunlight making his hair glint golden.

You gave Jo a questioning look and she smiled guilty. “I uhhh… arranged for a surprise picnic for us. Dean offered to get us sandwiches.”

You wanted to feel annoyed with her. The last thing you needed was to pretend to smile for company. Dean had been exceptionally kind to you, but you didn’t want to make him a victim of your isolation driven lethargy.

“Hey,” Dean said, his eyes softening when he saw you. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said automatically.

He pushed the wicker basket towards you. “Jo said you liked muffins. Now, we tried baking some, but they come with health warnings.”

“We?”

“Sammy and I,” he said, jerking his head sideways. You saw Sam coming up the hillock with a thermos in his hand.

You sat up straight.

You hadn’t seen Sam since your return to Lawrence for good and felt a bit ashamed about how you had behaved at the funeral, clinging to him the way that you had throughout the night. The brothers had walked you to the house and stayed over along with Ellen and Jo. They had left with Jo before you were up the following morning.

Ellen had stayed with you for the better part of that week, helping you tie the loose ends. She absolutely refused to leave till you agreed to come with. After a while of resisting her, you had given in. Who was left here for you anyway?

After returning to Lawrence, you mostly locked yourself in the room, rereading the books you had bought with you. It was immature and highly inappropriate to be this unhelpful in someone else's house, but you couldn’t bear the pitying looks in everyone’s eyes. Sam had come by once or twice. You had pretended to be asleep each time after hearing his voice downstairs.

Now, you didn’t have a choice but to talk to him.

“We’ve already pulled out the death by muffins, I see,” he said, sitting down next to his brother. He looked up and your heart almost leapt out of your chest. You had forgotten just how good-looking he was… and then when he was looking at you like that...

“We tried, Y/N,” Sam said apologetically. “We really did. Asked the recipe from Karen and all, but they just taste weirdly bitter.”

“It’s too much chocolate,” Jo said, wrinkling her nose as she took a small bite out of one innocent looking muffin.

“Here, you wanna try some?” Sam offered, looking so hopeful that you automatically took it from him. When your fingers touched his, it felt electric.

It was awful. The bitterness wasn’t the rich bitterness of chocolate. It was excess baking soda. It left the insides of your mouth feeling desiccated.

“Well, you’re officially the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Dean declared, his face twisted in absolute disgust. “What did you eat the full thing for?”

“It’s not that -”

“Bad?” Dean asked, revolted. “It’s disgusting. Satan’s rear end tastes like that. We only brought them with us to see we could feed them to the ducks! Sammy and I bet money on that.”

He looked so horrified that you laughed with a mouthful of the muffin, the crumbs sputtering out of your mouth, in all their caustic horribleness. Once the laughter broke out, a fit overtook you and you fell back into the soft grass laughing till tears rolled down the sides of your eyes.

“You guys suck at baking,” you coughed in between the chortles.

“Yeah, Y/N is our resident baker. Her cakes and cookies are to die for!” Jo lauded. You punched her in the arm lightly to stop her from praising you.

“Maybe you can teach us,” Sam said, and there was an undercurrent to his voice, warm and inviting.

“Alright you crazy kids hang around here with the basket,” Jo said. “We’re heading out for a while to the diner. There’s a couple of things we have to pick up for mom. Don’t hog the muffins.”

You sat up straight, realising that laying around like that wasn’t displaying any sense of propriety.

“Will you be alright?” Jo asked, worry lining her forehead.

“Yes, don’t worry about me.”

Jo still looked concerned as she walked down the hillock and disappeared from view.

You closed your eyes, and before Sam could utter a word, said, “Listen, I’m really sorry about how I behaved at the- the funeral. It was anything but appropriate to put you through that. I’m really sorry.”

When Sam didn’t say anything, you opened your eyes, albeit reluctantly.

He was staring into the distance, not at you. When he finally spoke, you couldn’t place the tone of his voice. “Is that really how you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

He regarded you closely, the wind ruffling his hair. “I was under the impression that me being there helped you- even if just a bit. But if all it did was make you feel sorry, then maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“It did help me,” you said quickly. “Really. The mere thought that there was someone who wasn’t there because they had to be there was more help that I can even begin to explain. I mean Aunt Ellen and Jo are family, and though they didn’t know Gran too well, they still had at least some level of obligation to be there. And it was so thoughtful of Dean to drive Jo. But not a single person was there only and only for me, except you. Trust me, you got me through that evening.”

“Then why are you sorry?” He asked, perplexed. Though he appeared relieved at the same time.

“Because,” you said, resigning to finally saying it out loud. “It doesn’t justify clinging to you like that. It was really kind of you to come, but I think I overstepped my boundary.”

“Y/N,” Sam said, placing his hand on top of yours. “I didn’t come there from the kindness of my heart. I came because I was worried about you. It was driving me crazy thinking about how you were. I had to make sure with my own two eyes that you were okay. I’ve known you for what, a week? And even then, drove all the way across Kansas to just see you! And you think you overstepped boundaries?”

“As wrong as it sounds, I was really glad to see you. I don’t regret a minute of having you next to me. I think it kept me standing throughout the dinner,” you said in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. “The next day a few women brought casseroles over and they asked about you. I didn’t know what to tell them.”

“Not that you needed to tell them anything, because it was none of their business,” Sam said through gritted teeth, “But aren’t we, at least, friends?”

At least.

People didn’t want to kiss their friends, and you wanted to kiss Sam. Very Much.

“Thank you for being there, Sam,” you said, instead of replying to the question. “It meant a lot to me. It still means a lot to me.”

“What’re you going to do now?”

You shrugged. “Hope for an acceptance and then apply for a student loan. Then I can get out of Ellen’s hair.”

Sam braced himself against the smooth grass with his other hand- the one not laying over yours- resting it behind his back. This way, his torso stretched out, his t-shirt hitching up just a bit to reveal his belt. You tried your best not to look.

“You know Ellen and Jo don’t think like that,” Sam reasoned. “Jo was so worried about you. She still is.”

You sighed. “I know she is. This isn’t them. I’m just not comfortable. I just miss Gran so much, and I hate that I wasn’t there for her. I know I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. It was a stroke and it was instantaneous, but I just can’t help feeling guilty… like if I had been there, I could have stopped it somehow. “

Sam didn’t say anything to contradict your words, didn’t try to oppose you in any way or tell you how you shouldn’t be feeling this way. He knew that one couldn’t control the way they felt. He simply put his hand on your shoulder, something he had done a lot that other evening. It was comforting and more familiar than it should have been. Your body simply accepted his touch now.

“She left the house to my name, or so a lawyer told me. He said I should sell it and use the money for college. I don’t want to sell it like it was a shack that didn’t mean anything to anyone. I want to keep it and turn it into a bakery one day, so someone who loves baking as much as Gran did can run it one day.”

You didn’t understand why you were telling him any of this. Maybe because you knew Sam wouldn’t preach or discredit any of your words. He simply listened. Listened and understood, not just what was spoken but also that which was left unsaid. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, the feel of his skin on yours felt calming.

“So what did you bet on?” You said after several moments of silence, raising the muffin from hell and waving it in front of him.

“That the ducks would eat it.” His mouth quirked up. “I don’t have high hopes, though.”

“We should at least try,” you suggested. “Ducks are vicious creatures. They just might eat it.”

The ducks did not eat it.

You tried throwing small pieces into the little pond in the park, and Sam tried chasing them much to your entertainment, but the ducks were smarter than you gave them the credit for.

“Blood fiends,” you glared as a couple of them flew off.

“You don’t like ducks?” He asked, amused.

“I was 6 when a duck attacked me. They are monsters.”

Sam laughed as the two of you made your way to the bench in the park. It was the same bench where he had taken you the first time you had met him. You could see the bar across the shrubbery in the distance.

When you looked back at Sam, his cheeks were slightly pink and so were the tips of his ears.

“Hey,” he said, his hand tucking his hair behind his ear. “Do you want to go out for dinner sometime?”

“Like a date?” You asked, surprised.

He licked his lips. “Yeah. Like a date.”

Sam was clearly nervous about this, absurdly more than you were. “That sounds nice,” you said.

“How about Saturday?” He asked, then laughed a short laugh. “I mean. I would have wanted to go sooner but I’m flying out of town.”

“It sounds great.”

Then he said those words that made your heart melt. “Y/N, I can’t wait for Saturday.”

**************************

“Damn, woman! You can bake.” Meg came hovering out of her room still in her pajamas. “This is what heaven smells like.”

You smiled at her over the fresh batch of cookies you had pulled out of the oven.

“Y/N! It smells like a Bakery in there. What are you doing?”

It was Kevin, shouting from the balcony.

“Come out here!” He yelled, and Meg opened the glass doors of the balcony wide.

“In a minute!” You shouted back, replacing the tray with a new one in the oven and adjusting the dials.

Both Jack and Kevin were in the window, looking like they had just woken up. Even the undergrads seemed to be out on their balconies downstairs. You could hear the muttering.

“I’m baking cookies for everyone,” you announced, leaning against the railing.

“And by everyone, you mean...?” Asked Meg.

“Just everyone,” you waved your hand vaguely. “So far there’s 138 and counting. I’ve been up since six.”

“You’re mental,” said Meg.

“Those cookies were just for me!” Said Jack at the same time as her.

Pam, who was just entering the apartment from what must have been a night shift at the bar looked up at the assembled crowd.

“What the hell?” She shouted. “Y’all are really this jobless first thing in the morning, huh?” Then she paused to sniff. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

“Y/N’s baking cookies for everyone.” Kevin was kind enough to provide her with an answer.

“Don’t you have better things to do than feed these idiots?”

You grinned down at her. “There’s a whole batch for you.”

“Well, God bless your soul, you sweet child,” she said and disappeared under the awning.

You were sure to pack some cookies with you while leaving for the first day of your job.

The Robert Crown Law library was starting to feel homely enough by this point, thanks to having spent so much of last week there for the Civil Procedure assignment. The Librarian on duty was supposed to overlap her shift with you for today and tomorrow, so you could be trained. Molly was sweet and really helpful. The library was fairly empty today. It was easier for her to run you through the bookshelves and their arrangement, the basics of handling the data centre and the ultra-systematic cataloging. Molly insisted that she take the desk duty for the day while you familiarized yourself with everything. Back when you had worked as the library assistant in TU, you had always considered yourself to be lucky to get paid for spending time amidst so many books. That hadn’t changed.

“We’re really lucky with the Law library,” said Molly. “The other libraries are a mess, especially the big ones. People keep calling there all the time, and even visitors are allowed without appointments. Law library only gets our usual crowd and very few people are a particular pain in the ass.”

Molly was a final year student. She had taken a break after her second year to backpack across Europe. Apparently she really didn’t have any anxiety whatsoever about her career. Whatever the case was, she was super chill.

“These cookies kick ass, by the way,�� she hummed after taking a bite out of the one that you had offered. You smiled and bent down to retrieve the tags.

“How’s it going, Molly?”

You stilled.

“Sam!” You heard Molly squeal. “You’re back again? Spending an awful lot of time here these days, aren’t you?”

“Oh, it’s the loneliness,” he said in a mocking voice.

“Y/N, What’re you doing down there. Get up,” Molly called.

Slowly you got to your feet.

Sam straightened like a rod at the sight of you. He was wearing flannel today over a pair of jeans, which shocked you because you were so not used to seeing him in anything except suits. It made him look so young. Not like your Sam, or the professor you distanced yourself from, but painfully somewhere in between.

“Sam, this is Y/N. She’s the new odd-shifts librarian,” Molly introduced cheerfully. “Y/N, this is Sam Winchester. Does he teach you?”

She turned to Sam. “Do you teach her?”

“Uhh-”

“Oh, of course you don’t remember her name, even if you do teach her. It’s been like two weeks,” she prattled on. “Do you take a class for the first year?”

“Civil procedure,” he said curtly, not sparing you a single glance. Then he spoke to Molly. “Can you grab that book I was reading yesterday? I think I asked you to keep that one aside.”

“Sure. Here,” She handed him a Code violation handbook from under the table. He promptly turned away from the table, heading straight for a bench that did not have a view of the Librarian’s desk.

It hurt. It hurt like a whiplash each time he ignored you. Pretended that you didn’t exist. And it sucked that you couldn’t even blame him for it.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Molly sighed after Sam.

“Sure,” you muttered, going back to retrieving the cards.

“It’s not unusual for professors to be here, but Sam’s been spending an awful lot of time in the library since the past few weeks. I wonder what’s up.”

You avoided the whole section of the library where Sam sat, sticking to the computers and going through the database cataloging. It wasn’t long before Sam was back at the table.

“Actually, can I take this book to go?” He asked.

“Leaving already?” You heard the thrumming of keys as Molly entered the book’s name in the directory of issued books.

You did not turn around to peep, and the desk was almost out of earshot anyway.

“That’s it, then?”

“Thanks, Molly.”

“Hey, you want to grab a cookie before you leave?”

“Sure!”

You heard the crumbling sound of the wrappers and then a crunch.

There was a pause. In an almost imperceptible voice, so low that you had to strain your ears to hear it, Sam said, “Tell her these are lovely.”

Blood rushed to your ears, and you did not hear the rest of the interaction. You didn’t even go back to the desk again till the end of the shift. By the time you returned, all the cookies were gone and Molly was humming to herself softly, completely having forgotten about passing on the compliment. She waved at you as you left for the day and you waved back absentmindedly.

Tell her these are lovely.

He knew. He just knew.

*******************************

A/N 2: Last slow chapter!!! Yay. Things start escalating pretty quickly after the next chapter. No playing footsie. ;)

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champagne-bucky · 5 years ago

Text

The Undoing: Four

Summary: The truth about a past life is unveiled.

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK STORY!! dark! Steve Rogers x reader, kidnapping, non con and dub con (or at least mentions of), dark! Bucky Barnes, Stockholm syndrome, grooming, mentions of pregnancy termination and suicide mentions (for one chapter), possibly more tags to be added!

Notes: Ahhh, so here we are, part 4 and the present time in which this story takes place. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get shit done, but I’ve just been so unmotivated and it sucks because I had all these things planned and ughhh procrastination sucks. Anyways enjoy part 4. Please make sure to like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow for more!! Enjoy :)

PLEASE READ WARNINGS!!

*Present time*

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Sasha. Happy birthday to you,” the small crowd that was Sasha’s family cheered as she blew out her candles.

Finally, her 18th birthday. A day where she is legally considered an adult. A day that her father had promised to grant her the freedoms that she saw the other kids had. A day where she would no longer be sheltered.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” her mother came up to the young woman and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Her father followed suit, a side hug and kiss as she worked on cutting the cake.

“I want the first piece,” one shouted.

“I want a really big piece,” said another.

The shouting amongst her siblings didn’t subside until her father quieted them down with the threat of “no cake at all.”

While her mother busied herself in the kitchen, Sasha’s father was helping his youngest children get their slices of cake. Birthdays and holidays were the only times the Rogers’ family got to indulge in sweet treats. Steve had made it clear that his children were to only eat the healthiest of foods, and his doting wife always complied.

A knock on the door caught Sasha’s attention. While the family was in momentary disarray, Sasha was the only one who ended up hearing the faint series of knocks.

Therefore, she wiped her hands of sweet buttercream icing and made her way to the locked door. The knocks continued on even after she told them to wait a minute. A peek through the peephole revealed a stranger. To be fair, everyone was a stranger to the Rogers’ family. No frequent visitors, friends, even family, the Rogers’ only knew each other.

“Daddy, someones at our door,” Steve abandoned the youngest child to meet Sasha at the door.

Steve glanced through the peephole and for a minute it seemed like he saw a ghost. “It can’t be,” Steve swung open the door so fast that Sasha feared she would get knocked out by it.

“Bucky,” Steve looked at the stranger on the other side of the door.

“Been a while huh?” The man, Bucky, gives a half grin at Sasha’s father.

“Wow,” Bucky turns to Sasha, “she’s all grown up,” Bucky invites himself in, but before he could get halfway past the threshold Steve stops him.

“Why all of a sudden have you turned up?” Steve gives Bucky a look that says “don’t say too much.”

“Because there’s a party going on,” Bucky then turns to Sasha. “Happy birthday sweetheart. My god, look at you,” Bucky looks her up and down. Sasha looked very taken back by the strange man. Who was he and why did he know your father?

Steve cleared his throat, “uhm, Y/N is in the kitchen cutting the cake. Why don’t you stay for some,” Bucky obliged and made his way into the kitchen.

“Dad, who is he?” Steve was quick to dismiss her question by replying that he’d been an old friend that knew him back when Sasha was first born.

Buck had made his way into the small kitchen, nothing had changed since Steve had brought his now wife here. In that kitchen were a bunch of children, some big and some small, all asking for a slice of Sasha’s birthday cake.

And then there was her, the young women that Bucky once knew, now all grown up with a family of her own. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at how pleasant she looked while serving the youngest children slices of their cake. She turned once she felt a presence at the door. A mix of emotions flashed through her eyes for a moment, but then her confused expression turned into a smile. She gladly walked over to the long time friend and greeted him with a huge smile and open arms.

“Bucky, it’s great to see you,” not a hint of sarcasm or an urgent surge of rage coursed this beautiful woman. She was genuinely happy to see the man that ruined her life prematurely.

“You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you,” Bucky smiled as he hugged her back. She looked nice in her freshly ironed dress and brand new heels her husband had demanded she wear around the house at all times.

“Please, come sit down while we have some cake. Kids, get to the dining room now please,” the herd of small children rushed out into the dining room with their sweet treats in hand.

Bucky was observant throughout dessert. Upon dodging judgemental and questioning looks from Steve, Bucky got to know more about the rest of the Rogers family.

“Last time I was here you had just had Gwynedd, yes?” Their mother nodded as a carbon copy of Steve Rogers looked up at him with a smile. She was going to be 17 soon, as she mentioned to the family a handful of times about birthday party ideas.

Then there was the third oldest, Max, a short haired, freckly 15 year old who had dreams of becoming an engineer. Reid was approaching 13 years old in the next couple of months, he was adamant on a firetruck themed party seeing as he wanted to be a fireman when he grew up. 11 year old Jocelyn had the same physique as her mother, but her personality was all Steve, she was sassy and always helping out her younger sibling. Last, and probably won’t be the least, was 9 year old Sarah Rogers, named accordingly after Steve’s long departed mother of course, she was the prized baby of the family that no one could touch.

Then there was Sasha, the oldest Rogers. Sasha was 100% her mother, from looks to personality. It was almost like someone hit a copy and paste button on everything Y/N Rogers and stamped it perfectly onto Sasha. Bucky couldn’t believe that the once small baby girl he held in his hands had grown into a beautiful, young woman. Bucky was snapped out of his thoughts when Steve called his name.

“So, um, Bucky, what plans do you have for the summer?”

“Daddy says we might be able to go to the seashore this summer if we all behave,” Sarah shouted with her mouthful of cake. Her mother scolded her for interrupting Bucky and Steve.

“Well that sounds a lot more exciting than what I’m doing, Sarah. I’ll be fixing up this old house I bought a few blocks over from you guys. I got it for cheap so I want to do some remodeling and maybe sell the place before autumn.”

“Why would you buy a house just to sell it again in a few months?” It was Gwenyd’s turn to interrupt this time.

“It’s called house flipping Gwen, people buy crappy houses and pour all their money into it so they can get stinkn’ rich off the place,” Sasha finally spoke up.

“Sash, remember we don’t use words like that in front of the younger ones,” her mother reminded her before putting her head down and eating the rest of her cake slice.

“You’re very correct Sasha. Think of this as a new hobby of mine, Steve, taking something old and run down and forming it into something new and modern.”

“So what are you going to do to it?” Gwenyd asked.

“Well I'm going to redo the whole structure of the outside, maybe add in a pool and deck area in the backyard. The inside I’m planning on gutting the whole thing and putting in my own personal touches,” the children all ooh’d and ahh’d at the idea.

The wheels in Bucky’s head were turning for a moment. He looked at sweet Sasha and the other kids. He couldn’t just leave them caged up in this house for the summer. He knows Steve. He knows that he’ll keep them locked up inside for fear of one of the children saying something about their unusual situation. He didn’t want to leave Sasha most of all. 18 years old and definitely hasn’t gotten a chance to explore the world. He wanted to help them.

“Say, kids, redoing a big house is a lot of work for one man. How about you guys help me out and I’ll give you some money for your seashore trip,” Reid jumped out of his chair all excited.

“Daddy, Mommy, please please please let us help Bucky. Please!” Steve quieted Reid down.

Their mother kept her head down. She would love for them to get out of the house for a bit, but Steve makes all the rules.

“I’ll have to think about it, Bucky,” Steve said which caused the younger siblings to groan.

“I think it’ll be fun, dad. We get a little bit of work experience, we’ll be kept busy for a couple weeks, and we can make our own money,” Sasha spoke up and Gwenyd was giving her dad a thumbs up to agree with her older sister.

“I said I’ll think about it, girls,” Steve said sternly while finishing off his cake.

Steve couldn’t help but glare at Bucky throughout the rest of dessert. Something just wasn’t right about Bucky’s abrupt visit. Steve’s wife didn’t seem to care much because she enjoyed getting visitors, but Bucky wasn’t a frequent visitor in their home.

Bucky left Steve soon after Gweyndd was born. He stayed around because Steve needed someone to help take care of Sasha while he was busy breaking in his wife. Steve never told Bucky to leave him after that, he would’ve preferred if Bucky stayed around to be in their lives. However, one morning he took off and never came back, he even went as far as breaking all contact with Steve.

Dessert was over and the kids were helping their mother clean up. Steve offered to help, but the kids hopped right to it, cleaning down the table and loading the dishes into the sink. While they were busy, Steve led Bucky into their family room with a couple beers in his hands.

“So, why are you really here?” Bucky laughed.

“Stevie, I just said I was stopping by. Sasha’s 18th birthday is a pretty big deal. No longer a young girl, but a grown woman,” Steve seethed at his response.

“So after all these years of no contact you just decided to show up again after like everything is okay?” Bucky looked at their surroundings to see if anyone was listening. When the coast was cleared he finally spoke up.

“I had the cops on my ass since that first week. That stupid family next door had cameras showing me getting Y/N to come outside with me. Lucky I convinced Sam to pull those traffic cameras and delete the evidence or we both would’ve been caught.”

“The cops were snooping around and you didn’t think to tell me?” Steve heart rate picked up. He did get questioned by the cops one day, but already rehearsed a solid alibi. Who would've guessed that taking that one drama class in high school gave him solid acting skills.

“I had to lay low. I’m pretty sure they tapped my phone and had P.I.’s following me everywhere I went. Once I was cleared of anything I got a new job and skipped town.”

The case went cold after a few years, Steve guessed that they were trying to pin the disappearance on Bucky, but considering Bucky is standing in front of him today it seems he got off.

“So what do they think happened?” Steve whispered.

“A classic runaway case. The family refuses to accept that she’s gone for good. I got to town every now and then and I hear that the parents go looking for her every night on their own. Everyone gave up on them,” Steve let out a breath of relief. He feared that the cops were still after his wife after all this time. It’s refreshing to find out that the case is really over.

“So, you really taking the kids to the beach?” Bucky smirked already knowing Steve’s response.

“They’ve been hounding me all year that they wanted to get out of the house and do something fun. Had to tell them something to get them off my back.”

“When are you gonna break the news to them?”

“Probably a week before I told them we would go. I’m sure Reid or Joce will do something that’ll make me “change my mind”,” Steve smirked. He really couldn’t risk them going out of the house.

“Why don’t they come with me,” Steve laughed.

“I’m serious, Steve. All that time in the house with the kids, how do you and the missus have any “free time”,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“What we do is none of your business. Plus, I don’t want any of these kids to run their mouths like Sasha did,” Bucky asked what he meant by that. Sweet Sasha would sell out her family like that?

Steve explained the whole situation. She took playing house a little too far and took the kids outside to play. Just as bad luck would have it, the neighbors were also outside when they noticed a bunch of unattended children running around and playing. The nosy bastards kept asking Sasha questions. Did you kids just move in? Where are your parents? You’ve been living here how long?

Fucking CPS got involved and wouldn’t let up on the family. Steve’s wife sure as hell got a punishment of a lifetime. She also had to stay in the basement anytime a social worker would have random visits. Couldn’t risk anything.

To get them off their backs, Steve promised that he would enroll all the children in real schools so they would get more social interaction from their age groups. Yeah, that lasted about a month or two until the social workers stopped coming by. Everyone of them got pulled out of school except for Sasha. She enjoyed learning so much and was already making her way into high school.

It took months of convincing her mother to help her out to convince Steve to let her go to high school. Long nights and heated arguments between the couple was giving Steve major migraines. He finally agreed, but only on a string of strict conditions. Luckily, Sasha was already well behaved at this point so he wasn’t too worried about her fucking up again.

“I think it’ll be a good idea to let the kids come with me. They can learn new things and it’ll get them out of your hair. Think of all the time you and Y/N will have. So much time that you could be giving the kids and new brother or sister,” Steve did perk up at that idea. He has been on his wife for a while now about wanting a new baby, they just aren’t getting many opportunities to try with all the kids around.

Steve thought for a moment, “You’ll make sure they won’t get into any trouble right?”

“I’ll watch them like hawks,” Bucky promised as he saw Sasha coming out of the kitchen to head upstairs.

“Hey daddy, I’m gonna go to bed, but I just wanted to say goodnight. Thank you for a great birthday,” Sasha kissed her father’s cheek.

“It was nice meeting you Bucky,” Bucky smiled at her as she walked upstairs.

“You raised her well, Stevie.”

“Fine,” Bucky was surprised.

“Fine what?”

“You can have the kids help you, but don’t get into anything stupid or I’ll have your head,” Steve threatened as the other children started to come in to say goodnight.

“I’ll be here 8 sharp then,” Bucky got up to leave soon after the kids were getting ready for bed.

Bucky had his own planning to do, and he would make sure he would keep Steve’s word.

For something that the children were so excited about, they were relieved that helping Bucky out was over.

What they thought was a couple week project turned into the whole summer. A few fights and temper tantrums later and the house was almost done. However, Bucky wouldn’t need their help any longer. Instead, he agreed that he would keep them longer so Steve had a good excuse to say why their trip wasn’t happening this summer. The kids were so upset that their beach trip got canceled, but Bucky made it up to them by buying them ice cream and letting them watch movies all day one day.

Not only did they get endless amounts of ice cream, but they had a new addition to expect in the next 9 months. Yes, their mother got pregnant again with another child. Bucky could tell Sasha was a little upset by this, but the others were thoroughly excited about a new brother or sister joining the family.

The nights got cooler and the days were getting shorter meaning fall was approaching them. Which meant Sasha would finally be able to get back to school. While most kids dreaded going back Sasha didn’t. She loved school, her teachers, classes, and most of all was getting new books. There has never been a kid who enjoyed reading a European World History book more than Sasha Rogers. Also she couldn’t wait to get some peace and quiet away from her brothers and sisters.

“Sash,” Bucky stopped her before she could walk out of his new house.

“Yeah, Buck,” they had grown rather close during this time, almost as if they were long lost friends.

“I got you something. Think of it as a late birthday present,” Bucky pulled out of his back pocket a rectangular device. Sasha had seen them on TV all the time. In fact, she begged for one for so many years, but her father yelled at her to drop it before he got even more angry.

“I’m not supposed to have one of these. Dad will kill me, he’ll kill you,” Bucky laughed and shoved the phone and its box in her hands.

“It’ll be our secret. Hide this in and don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell mom or Gwen, even your friends at school,” Bucky urged her to take it.

“But I can’t pay for it,” Sasha wasn’t allowed to have a job either.

“I’ll take care of everything. Just to make sure we are clear, don’t do anything stupid with this phone. You tell no one about it at all. If I find anything bad on this phone I won’t hesitate to tell your father, understand?” Sasha gulped and shook her head out of fear of what her father would do.

“Uhm, uh, thank you so much Bucky,” Sasha hugged him.

“It’s no problem at all, Sash.”

Now with a phone in her hand and access to contacting her, Bucky had his own plan in motion.

Tags to be added in comments!!

#Dark Avengers #dark captain america #dark steve rogers #dark Steve rogers x reader #dark Steve rogers fic #dark marvel #mcudarklibrary #dark bucky barnes #dark james barnes #dark winter soldier

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Friends With Torment

AO3

Masterpost

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

Camilia knew that going to Hexside would be far different than any regular school, boarding or not.

However, she had a sneaking suspicion that it would be a lot easier if she didn’t have Eda to constantly deal with.

It was nine o’ clock in the morning. As in, way too early for any shenanigans to happen.

And right on the dot, the bells screamed awake.

Normally, that would be the signal for students to move onto their next class.

Until the bells started belting out song lyrics.

“BUT SINCE YOU’VE BEEN CONNED,” The bells shrieked. “I CAN BREATHE FOR THE FIRST TIME!”

“Oh no,” Camilia groaned, standing up from her desk as the other students started looking around in confusion.

Still, she gathered up her things and grudgingly made her way to the door.

The hallway was swarmed with perplexed students. Camilia had only just stepped out of class before a familiar figure oh-so-casually slid up beside her.

“Huh, funny for the bells to ring like this,” Eda said innocently. “I wonder what could’ve happened to them?” She said, giving a smug smile.

“I EVEN FELL FOR THAT STUPID LOVE SONG,” The bells continued, far past what they’re usual screaming time was. “YEAH, YEAH, SINCE YOU BEEN CONNED,”

“Eda,” Camilia inhaled before turning to face the girl. “Why? Of all the things, why this?”

“Because I thought it would be funny and I’m currently obsessed with this song,” Eda replied with a shrug. “This is my way of getting out of that phase.”

“By torturing everyone else?” Camilia looked back up to the bells.

“GUESS YOU NEVER FELT THAT WAY. BUT SINCE YOU BEEN CONNED,”

“Yeah,” Eda said, her smile growing.

“Are they supposed to go on this long?” Camilia asked, walking through the hallways and noticing students beginning to cover their ears.

“I thought I hexed them to only play it during normal ring times,” Eda admitted, inspecting a bell they passed. “I guess I forgot to specify how long they should be ringing for.”

“Are you telling me they’re going to do this all day?” Camilia gaped. “Eda!”

“YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, YOU BLEW IT. OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND. SHUT YOUR MOUTH, I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT,”

“Oops,” Eda shrugged, completely unbothered. “Hey, if you want something else, I’d be happy to hex ‘em to play something different.” She offered.

“I’d rather you hex them to stop,” Camilia growled. “I’m never going to be able to work with this blaring all day.”

“Then today’s gonna suck for you,” Eda giggled. “If you want we could ditch and--”

“I’m not doing that, Eda.” Camilia said sharply.

“Eh, your choice, Cammy.” Eda said simply.

“At this point, I’m genuinely wondering why I put up with you.” Camilia growled.

“So am I, but I appreciate it.” Eda grinned. “How long do you think the school will put up with this until they start doing something?”

“Knowing Hexside? Five minutes to five hours.” Camilia answered honestly.

“I’m going five hours.”

It had been three hours.

Camilia, used to the noise at home, could usually somewhat tune out the music when she was in class.

Usually.

Now, Camilia was getting ready to snap. Nobody was allowed to go home early, and the hallways were unbearable. The constant shouting and complaining from the other students weren’t helping, either.

Eda noticed her discomfort during lunch.

“Song getting to you, too?” Eda teased, slipping into the seat beside Camilia.

“How can you stand this?” Camilia hissed, holding her head in her hands, barely able to eat.

“You know what I’m like. Is this really that surprising?” Eda raised a brow, taking a bit of something that looked like a blue carrot.

“I’m honestly just glad Lilith is too busy being a teacher's pet to bother me about it.”

“This even isn’t that good of a song!” Camilia huffed. “I can name plenty of songs from my world that would be better than this.”

“SINCE YOU BEEN CONNED, SINCE YOU BEEN CONNED, SINCE YOU BEEN CONNED.”

Eda looked over Camilia, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

“Tell me one, then.” She said. “The offer still stands, I could put one on.”

Camilia wanted to argue, she really did. Tell Eda to knock it off and find a way to get the bells to stop. It was hard to concentrate in her healing glasses with the poorly-sung witches version of Since U Been Gone blaring.

Then an idea came to her.

“HERE’S THE THING, WE STARTED OUT AS FRIENDS,”

It was ridiculous, nonsensical, and far from her typical ‘keep your head down and do your work’ reputation Camilia had gotten for herself.

It was something Eda could never refuse.

“Well,” Camilia said slowly, pointedly refusing to look at Eda. “There is this one song…”

“I’m all ears,” Eda said, leaning closer with her ears pricking up, intrigued.

“YEAH, YEAH, SINCE YOU BEEN CONNED,”

“It’s a sort of joke in the human realm,” Camilia continued, noticing Eda's closeness and still not moving, inspecting her nails. “I don’t think anyone here would get it.”

“Aw, come on, Cam!” Eda whined, laying her head dramatically on the table, giving the human puppy-dog eyes. “I wanna know! What’s the harm in trying?”

Camila finally looked down at Eda over the rim of her glasses. She held the young witches gaze for a moment, feigning uncertainty.

“AND ALL YOU’D EVER HEAR ME SAY, IS HOW I PICTURED ME STEALING FROM YOU!”

Even if there was any, she knew she couldn’t say no to Eda when she looked so excited.

“Ever heard of the song Never Gonna Give You Up?”

And that’s how Camila found herself listening to the entire school be filled with Rick Astley’s voice, slumped against the locker doors, trying desperately not to attract attention with her laughing.

Eda was leaning on the lockers beside her, looking very proud of herself.

“Man, this guy has a lot of voice cracks,” She commented.

“I--” Camilia wheezed and covered her mouth to try and smother it, as kids were walking through the hallway and probably wondered what she found so funny about this situation.

“NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN, NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU!”

“You hanging in there, Cam?” Eda teased.

“There, there was--” Camila snorted. “There was this kid who-who said he wanted to do this,” She said, gesturing to the bells. “But I never-” She choked back another laugh. “Imagined it happening.”

“Congratulations, it's a reality.” Eda smiled. “You’re right, I don’t get what this is, but you certainly seem to be enjoying it.”

“WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR SO LONG, YOUR HEART’S BEEN ACHING BUT YOU’RE TOO SHY TO SAY IT,”

“Way more than I should be,” Camila agreed, leaning sideways on the lockers so she was facing Eda, wiping at tears forming in her eyes from her laughing.

“I wonder if I could pin this on that human club,” Eda wondered aloud. “Considering this song doesn’t exist in the Isles.”

“INSIDE WE BOTH KNOW WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON,”

“Eda, Principal Bump could see a kid smash a window with his own chair and still find a way to blame you.” Camilia deadpanned, having to take a few brief pauses to stop from bursting out laughing again.

“Fair,” Eda shrugged. “But this was worth it.”

“WE KNOW THE GAME AND WE’RE GONNA PLAY IT,”

“For satisfaction?” Camila taunted.

“Yeah,” Eda nodded, her eyes looking over Camila for a second longer before turning away. “Something like that.”

“I JUST WANNA TELL YOU HOW I’M FEELING, GOTTA MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND!”

Camila chuckled and shook her head, watching the poor suffering students struggle on by.

“Don’t think I’ll be into all your schemes now, Clawthorne,” Camila warned. “This was a one time thing.”

“You said that the last three times,” Eda said, giving her a smirk.

“Yes, but I also rejected at least ten.” Camilia reminded her. “Someone has to be responsible here,”

“You're not responsible, that's Lilith.” Eda corrected. “You're just tired.”

“Is there really a difference?”

“Ms. Clawthorne.”

Both girls jumped and whirled around, facing the kitsune teacher, Mrs. Aka.

She did not look pleased.

“NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN,”

“I take it you have something to do with this?” She demanded, gesturing to the singing bells in the hallway.

“Pfft, you have no proof.” Eda crossed her arms and turned away.

Mrs. Aka only rolled her eyes before turning her head to Camilia, who was trying to quickly slip away from whatever trouble Eda was about to get into.

“Would you happen to be involved with this, as well?” Mrs. Aka asked the human. “You seemed to be having a fun time earlier.”

“O-oh, I was just,” Camilia frantically thought of an excuse. “See, I was just talking and--”

“NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE AND HURT YOU,”

“What, Cammy?” Eda pointed a disbelieving thumb at the girl. “Little miss perfect here couldn’t do a bad thing in her life.” She snarked.

Camilia was used to this. Used to Eda taking the falls. It happened between her and practically everyone, for some reason. She’d cause trouble, get other people roped in, and then take the blame for both of them.

Unless they were someone like the rich kids, then she wouldn’t even try.

“Um, well,” Camilia said. “I--”

“Well then, Ms. Clawthorne, I do hope you will come with me to Principal Bump’s office.” Mrs. Aka said sharply. “You have a lot of explaining to do!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eda mumbled, getting off the lockers.

“NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE, NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU!”

“Wait,” Camilia spoke up, hurrying in front of the teacher as she began to leave. “I...I asked for this song,” Camilia said, looking down and rubbing her arm. “This new one. I asked for Eda to change it.”

“Did you now?” Mrs. Aka growled, not noticing the shocked face Eda was giving the human behind her. “Did you ask for that first song?”

“No, ma’am.” Camilia shook her head.

“I see,” Mrs. Aka said slowly. “Both of you, come with me.” She said sternly, turning and leading the two down the hallway.

Camilia looked up only to fall in behind the teacher, before going back to the walk of shame, already feeling worse and worse by the second.

Why, of all the things, would she admit to that? She’s the first human in Hexside, and she just admitted to aiding in a school-wide prank with the most notorious troublemaker! What did she gain from this, really? She’d never done it before.

Distantly, she was aware of the song starting over again.

“Hey,” Eda nudged her shoulder, snapping Camilia out of her thoughts. “You didn’t have to admit to that, you know.” She said quietly.

“Y-yeah, I know,” Camilia nodded. “I...I guess I felt bad.” She murmured.

“Aw, that’s lame,” Eda snorted, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need pity, I’ve done this plenty of times before.” She said, waving her hand.

“WE’RE NO STRANGERS TO LOVE, YOU KNOW THE RULES AND SO DO I!”

“But,” She added a moment after, giving Camilia a shy glance. “Thanks,”

Oh.

That was why.

Camilia smiled back, softly chuckling.

“Don’t mention it. Or expect this to be a regular thing.” She teased.

“Wouldn’t expect any less from ya, Cam.”

#switched au #drabble post #the owl house #toh #camilia noceda #camilia #eda clawthorne #eda #lilith #mentioned #my writing #rickroll

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kentsjohnson91 · 5 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓

in which two childhood best friends find comfort in each other after getting their hearts broken.

pairing; topper thornton x reader

requested; yes

warnings; none that i can think of

Topper Thornton has always been your best friend. That was a known fact. You guys met in kindergarten, really got to know each other in first grade, and your friendship just blossomed over the years. That all changed, however, when he began hanging out with Rafe Cameron.

It had happened so suddenly. You guys had just graduated eighth grade, and had promised to do everything together during the summer. But that all changed in the blink of an eye. Topper had been growing more distant, began hanging out with Rafe and Kelce instead of you, and had gotten a girlfriend - Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s younger sister and the Kook princess.

Instead of fighting to earn the friendship, however, you decided to get some new friends - the Pogues. You had known Kiara through school, but had never been that close to her. One day, you were eating at The Wreck when you had spotted her bringing out a customer’s meal. Before she could make her way back to the kitchen, though, you stopped her.

“Kiara!” you yelled, catching her attention.

“Y/N?” she asked, walking over to you.

“Um, hey,” you greeted, continuing shortly after, “how’s your summer been?”

Kiara shrugged, “It’s been alright, I guess. I’ve been spending most nights here and the days with my friends, so it’s been pretty good. What about you?” she shrugged, keeping the conversation going.

“I wish I could say that it’s been better than it has been,” you replied honestly, “Topper ditched me for Rafe and Sarah Cameron, so I haven’t really been doing anything.”

Kie nodded, looking down. She had also seen you around school, but she noticed that you were different than most Kooks. You weren’t stuck up like most of them. Of course, you were grateful that your family had enough money to live on Figure Eight, as the Pogues were pretty poor and a ton of them barely had enough money to afford a lot of luxury goods. Knowing you, Kie made an offer, “That sucks, I’m sorry. You’re more than welcome to hang out with my friends and me, if you want to, though.” she smiled.

Your head perked up at her words, “Really?”

She nodded, “Yeah, of course. They won’t mind. You can join me here tomorrow at 1:00 and tag along with us for a ride on the water?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks, Kie.” you smiled.

“No problem, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bring a suit.” she returned the smile, heading off to get back to work.

And so your friendship with the Pogues began. They were a little skeptical of you hanging out with them at first, but you didn’t blame them. A Kook had just randomly joined their friend group, so they had a reason to be a little suspicious.

As you began to hang out with them more and more, they became more accepting, realizing that you were a lot like Kiara. A rich Kook by nature, but a Pogue at heart.

As time passed, you began to grow smitten with JJ. You didn’t let anyone know that, however. In fact, the only person who knew that was Pope. You weren’t going to be the one to break the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule that Kie had told you about. You had earned her trust, as well as the trust of JJ, Pope and John B, and you certainly weren’t going to let go of that any time soon.

That didn’t mean that it was easy, however. It was hard to keep your feeling for JJ quiet, especially as you noticed him falling in love with another person. You could see the way he looked at Kiara. She didn’t seem to notice how he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing on earth, but you sure did. It hurt to see the person you loved most fall for a person that wasn’t you, but despite the pain, you were going to be happy for them if anything happened.

When the five of you headed back to the château that night, you all collectively agreed to have a camp fire in the yard. John B and the boys went outside to set up the fire and gather some tree branches for the wood, while you and Kiara stayed inside to grab some beers and ingredients for s’mores. You found most ingredients pretty easily, but you had to rummage through all the cabinets to find some graham crackers that weren’t expired. After awhile of looking, you found some.

“What took so long?” JJ shouted when you and Kie finally made it outside.

“Ask John B why he never throws any of his food out,” you remarked, turning to the brunette, “Seriously, do you know how long it took me to find graham crackers that weren’t expired?”

He only chuckled and muttered, “Sorry, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, handing out skewers and marshmallows to everybody. As you all toasted your marshmallows over the fire, the five of you had worked up some small talk, but you noticed the way JJ was looking at Kiara again. Your heart shattered once again, but you tried to ignore it.

After your first s’more, however, you couldn’t take it. So you made up some half-ass excuse, pulling out your phone, “Shit!” you yelled, staring wide eyed at the screen of your phone.

Everyone turned to stare at you, confusion and concern displayed on their faces, “What’s wrong, Y/N?” Kie asked you.

“My mom really needs me home. I forgot that she needed me to distract my little brother while she decorated his birthday cake for tomorrow.” you lied, everyone giving you a look of skepticism. Especially Pope.

“Can’t you just have your sister distract him?” JJ asked, but John B spoke before you could answer.

“She’s two, dumbass. You think that a two year old is going to keep a nine year old interested?”

“Sorry, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.” you replied, rushing to get up off the ground to go home. As you were leaving, Pope gave you a look of sympathy. He knew why you wanted to leave, but he didn’t stop you.

As soon as you knew you were out of sight, you began sprinting, a few tears streaming down your face. Even though you knew that you and JJ were never going to happen, it didn’t make the pain that came with it any less sharp.

As you entered Figure Eight, you decided to take a short cut through a park so you didn’t have to walk the usual length it took for you to get back to your house. You could’ve had John B drive you, but that would come with an interrogation and you weren’t in the mood for that. As you walked through the park, you could faintly see a figure sitting under a tree.

Shit. Your mind raced with thoughts, remembering all that came from these situations from the numerous true crime documentaries you watched. You were about to turn away, but a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks, “Y/N?”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. You turned around on your heels and began walking towards the boy, “Topper?”

You made your way to the tree and sat next to him. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing here at this time of night, “Why are you here?”

“I, uh... Sarah broke up with me,” he said calmly, but his voice was full of sadness. Although he had ditched you for her two summers in a row, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him, “Apparently she was macking on a Pogue. John B, to be exact.”

You were shocked, and you were definitely going to confront John B about this later, “Great. Sarah Cameron is macking on John B and the boy that I’m in love with is in love with someone else. I’m sorry, Top.” you offered sympathetically.

“There’s nothing you can do about it, but thanks, Y/N,” he whispered, turning to look at you, “Who’s the guy?”

You sighed, dropping your head, “JJ Maybank. I like him, but by the way he looks at Kiara, I know he’s in love with her.” you muttered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve that.” Topper said, an attempt to make you feel better.

“Thanks, Top. Neither do you.” you replied, the two of you turning to look at each other.

He seemed to contemplate what he was going to say next, not wanting to hurt you even more, “Is there... do you think we could be friends again? I know that I fucked up by ditching you for Rafe and Sarah. You didn’t deserve that, and I understand if you don’t want to. I just... I realized how much I missed my best friend, and I know that this apology is small for what I did to you, but I just want you back.”

You sighed, looking down once more. It hurt you seeing him like this. Even though he had left you for the Camerons, you didn’t hate the boy. You had worked up a friendly love for him for nine years, and that doesn’t go away overnight, “We can try, Top. It’s not going to be easy, but we can try. If you still want to hang out with Rafe and Kelce, I understand. I’m still going to hang out with the Pogues, and if we can be understanding of each other’s other friendships then I wouldn’t mind trying this again.”

He smiled, “Deal. I’d like that.”

The two of you stood up, pulling each other into a hug. The Pogues were great, but you had missed Topper. He was your best friend, of course you had missed him.

After hanging around Topper for the next few months, you slowly felt your infatuation with JJ beginning to fade. Instead, you had fallen for another boy. A boy named Topper Thornton. Little did you know, he had gotten over Sarah and had fallen for another girl. A girl by the name of Y/N Y/L/N.

It wasn’t long before he asked you to be his girlfriend. Of course, you said yes.

You two had managed to make each other feel their heartbeat again, and look where that brought you.

another a/n; whoo, another unedited imagine! i hate the ending, but i hope you guys enjoy.

taglist; @jjmaebank @jiaraforever @outrbanks @obxfics @heywards @jjmaybnks @jjtheangel @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @johnbrroutledge @johnbroutledge @johnbstwinkie @sweetestdolan @obx-sos @maybankiara @jjouterbanks @downbytheouterbankss @downbytheouterbanks @drewstarkey @supremestarkey @johnbsflowr @kiespogues

#topperthornton #topper #topper x reader #topper obx #topper outer banks #johnbookerroutledge #jjmaybank #kiaracarrera #popeheyward #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #outer banks imagine #outerbanksimagines #obx imagine #obx #outerbanks #obximagines #kelce obx

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years ago

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Forty-One

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

Killing usually brought a certain amount of satisfaction. Perhaps not the best response to murder, but it was Amara’s job, and this out of all jobs should have been something to look forward to. Instead she was just... focused.

Perhaps this was for the better. Stars knew if circumstances were different she would have loved to drag it out and have her fun. She’d missed that opportunity with Remiel, and Destris deserved to suffer just as badly.

Having Cyrus on her heels only made her more wary. Cyrus had no training in killing, or stealth. She was just lucky the witch was a genius at his job and when she demanded he walk quieter, had a spell up his sleeve to keep himself from making any sound at all.

It’d taken her all night to find Destris. And she’d spent the day debating how to go about this. It didn’t- it wasn’t fair, because Amara was gonna have to do this quick and efficient. It was going to be anti-climactic. She just knew it.

The only dramatics she was going to be able to comfort herself was this: walking right up to the door instead of sneaking in a window like she would on another job.

She knocked. Cyrus was a few feet behind her, as requested, out of harms way.

And then there Destris was. “Can I help you?” he asked mildly, lifting a single brow.

Banter was for after the fatal stabbing, so Amara flipped a knife out, and had Destris gutted from pelvis to throat in a heartbeat. She watched him crumple, feeling oddly empty as she watched the black blood pool.

Cyrus was kneeling, muttering a spell quickly as Destris went very, very still. Amara turned away when a sickly white glow filled the container Cyrus had brought. She dropped the knife on Destris’ front yard as she walked back to Cyrus’ car, sending Cameron a text to let him know it was done.

By the time Cyrus got to the car, she’d gotten her response: a single “k.” in response.

---

Amara had Cyrus drop her off at Bay’s house. She pushed open Bay’s front door and stepped through. She didn’t make it two feet before Bay appeared from the kitchen. “Get out of my house,” Bay said, irritated.

“I’ve got to talk to Nik,” Amara said.

“I’m not letting you until you learn some manners.”

“I need to talk to nik, please,” Amara replied, too... too much of something to force her tone to be flippant.

Bay gave her a flat look, but said, “Good enough. He’s upstairs.”

Amara jogged upstairs, going faster once she was out of sight for Bay. She found Nik in bed, but she expected that. She threw herself down beside him, curling into his side without a word.

“Hi,” Nik said sleepily.

“I bailed on you yesterday, and I shouldn’t have. Promise it was important.” She closed her eyes, and wrapped an arm around him.

Nik pulled her arm closer. “I know.”

“I’m hoping I can stop this soon.” She let out a shaky breath. “Go into semi retirement or something. I don’t know. Be a trophy wife for Cin, have a few kids around. Become domestic.”

Nik snorted. “I thought Cin was the trophy wife.”

“Cin’s a rich motehrfucker and I haven’t let him spend a cent on me, if I could help it.” Amara squeezed Nik lightly. “And stars know I haven’t saved any of my money. And I won’t touch the account Gramma set up for me.”

“That’s because you’re a prideful idiot.”

“Why take money that someone who hates me wants to give me?”

“I don’t know, then why do you take money that Cameron gives you?”

“Cus I earn it,” Amara said. “He buys my silence and time away from his house when I get too annoying.”

“And yet you still annoy him, so are you really earning it?”

She pinched his side. “I never said it’d be a permanent leaving. I’d miss you too much. What would I do without my best friend?”

“I don’t know, what would you do?”

“Be very bored,” Amara said, before resting her hand on his stomach. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but Nate must be feeding you well. I was worried you’d need to be tricked into eating like Cameron.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Nik accused.

Amara thought about that. “Not in a bad way,” she said, deadpan, before, “You just... look healthier already.”

“I don’t know why. I’ve been sick for days,” Nik muttered.

Amara hummed. “Probably stress.” She paused, and then took on a mock-serious voice. “Have you tried being less stressed?”

“Yeah, but then I overdosed.”

“Oof, had to make it serious, didn’t you?” She reached up, tugged on his hair. “Can I stay and take a nap? Not gonna lie, my job sucked ass.”

“It’s not like I’m doing anything.”

Amara hummed again, and pulled her phone out to text Cameron that she was going to be late for dinner. After that she tossed her phone to the other side of the bed. No need to look at the response; she knew Cameron wasn’t going to reply at all.

---

Cyrus showed up at his house at the designated time, on the dot. Cameron had to admit that he respected Cyrus’ need for punctuality as well as being an organized person in general. That made the witch tolerable. “I trust you have everything you need with you?” Cameron asked, at the doorway, eyeing the small bag with him.

“Yes,” Cyrus said. “Where do you want me to set up?”

Cameron led him back to Lev’s former bedroom. “In here,” he said, waiting at the doorway for Cyrus to enter. “If you fail this time,” Cameron said. “You will not get a third try.”

“I already told you this is my last attempt,” Cyrus replied. “I won’t put Lev through this again.”

“I am aware you have already told me,” Cameron said, annoyed. “I am saying I am keeping you to your word. If Amara tries to manipulate you, as she has already done, then I will leash her. Before you get started,” he said, “We are waiting for Ash to arrive. He’ll be here in a few moments.”

He didn’t give Cyrus a chance to respond before he turned around and went to get the door before Ash had the chance to knock. Ash looked a little worse for wear, but Cameron did not feel like commenting on it before wordlessly leading him back to the bedroom where Cyrus was already starting to set up.

Ash leaned against the dresser and folded his arms, waiting; watching. “Think it’ll work this time?” he asked.

“If it doesn’t,” Cyrus said, “There will be no third attempt. You have my word, as well as Cameron’s.”

“Well yeehaw,” Ash said. “Then we can all put this to rest. The moment you bring him back- if you manage it this time- I am taking over. I do not need your magic when I have my own.”

“Okay,” Cyrus agreed. “I streamlined the spell, so it shouldn’t take as long.”

“As long as you do it right,” Cameron said, mildly. “Do what you need to.”

Cyrus set up his candles where he needed, and looked to Cameron when finished. “You don’t have to knee, but I need some kind of physical contact. So I can channel you.”

“Very well,” he said. “When do you want to start?”

Cyrus moved to pull a book out of his bag, flipping to the page he needed. “Now.”

Cameron moved to press his hand to Cyrus’s back while he started reciting the spell for the next half hour. Both he and Ash watched acutely. Towards the end, the ashes that Cyrus had spread along the bed began to darken, until every speck seemed to suck the light from the room. Slowly a shape took form on the bed.

As the last word fell from the witches mouth, the whole room went dark. When the light came back, bit by bit, Lev’s body was there, chest rising and falling evenly. Ash pushed off the dresser the same time Cyrus hunched over. “Alright, witch,” Ash said, “step back. It’s my turn. Go take a nap. I’m sure Cameron will let you use one of his fancy bedrooms for all your trouble.”

When Cyrus seemed to not be able to move, he said, “Give me a second.”

Cameron leaned down to pick him up and carry him to one of the closer bedrooms and plop him down on the bed. “I know you did not take the magic you needed from me,” Cameron said.

Cyrus laid down and pressed his palm to his forehead. “I took what I needed and nothing more. Lev needs you walking and functional, not me.”

“I am perfectly capable of doing both,” Cameron clipped out. “But sure. This selfless act of yours is as annoying as Amara is. Sleep for however long you need. I will wake you for dinner.”

Cyrus closed his eyes. “Text Sorin for me?” He asked. “He’s going to worry, and I’m not going to be much of a conversationalist very soon.”

Cameron detested cell phones, but he did as asked. “When he shows I will direct him to your room,” he said, turning to leave, flicking the lights off on his way out. Cameron went back to Lev’s bedroom and leaned in against the doorway while Ash seemed to be doing a physical of Lev’s body. His face was drawn, tight and focused. “His body is here,” he finally said. “But I cannot sense Lev. I’m thinking a coma, or something similar at the very least.”

“Do you have an estimate for how long he will be like this?”

Ash shook his head. “Sorry but necromancy is a little outside of my wheelhouse of knowledge. The best I can tell you is either he comes back or he does not. I’ll do my best to keep his body functioning, but right now, he is the equivalent of brain dead.”

----

Nate slipped his phone into his back pocket. They had Lev’s body, and right now… Nate could not sense Lev’s soul. Not anywhere Inbetween anyway. He supposed his best option was to go see Lev for himself, to see if he could sense Lev’s soul there. But first he needed to check on Nik, and he found both Nik and Amara curled up asleep on a bed in the room Nate had set up for Nik.

Nate carefully went and grabbed a throw blanket to cover them both before quietly shutting the door behind him and decidingly drive to Cameron’s house. He spent the entire time seeing if he could sense Lev’s spirit, but got nothing. There was Darius though, and Darius joined him on the drive to Cameron’s house. “Do you feel him?” Nate asked, flicking him a look.

Darius seemed thoughtful, contemplative. “I don’t… not feel him. It wasn’t like before, when you had to bring him back. He’s… I think he’s stuck.”

“I’ve never really felt something like this,” Nate finally said. “Then again necromancy isn’t something that had been done before- at the very least in my lifetime.”

“Mmm.” Darius seemed a little amused. “Not something that’s been done in mine either. Life or deathtime.”

Nate snorted, but then sighed. Darius had the strangest sense of humor sometimes. And it was something Nate had come to appreciate. “After all these years,” Nate said, “You still care.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Darius asked, golden eyes lingering on Nate’s face.

Nate gave a small, rueful laugh. “I just might.”

“I understand; Why you’re so hesitant about Cameron. Nik is your brother. He’s your baby brother and he loves with everything he has,” Darius said. “And now he’s with my Cameron, who can come off as so reserved. You’re worried Cameron will repeat history.”

Nate thought on that for a good long minute. “I was,” he finally said. “Now, I’m reassessing my reservations. Or at least I’m trying to.”

“He does not make it easy,” Darius observed.

“That he does not,” Nate said, pulling into the driveway. He had the truck in park when he looked over, unsurprisingly seeing Darius not there. He had gone to knock on the door, only for Cameron to open before he had one knock in. “He’s in his bedroom,” Cameron said. “Next to mine.”

Cameron didn’t offer any more words before moving aside to let Nate in. The house was as spotless as his own, but seemed to lack the kind of warmth that Nate was used to. Though, it did feel like a calculated coldness; like his house was more a fortress than a home. Another stronghold of defense.

Lev was in a clean set of clothes, under a blanket with his hands folded on his stomach. If Nate didn’t know better, he’d say Lev was just sleeping. But he did know better, and he’d almost say that Lev looked like he was on display for a wake, as well.

Cameron leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest while he silently watched Nate work. The only problem was he didn’t quite know where to start, not when it came to things like this. He crossed the room to settle on the edge of Lev’s bed, brushing his fingers along Lev’s cheeks; his forehead, his chest.

Lev’s heart was beating, he was also breathing as far as Nate could tell. Granted, these kinds of matters were Ash’s domain but as far as he could tell, Lev’s body was in peak condition- he even wasn’t as thin as Nate had grown accustomed to.

Cameron seemed to let him work as long as he needed without unnecessary commentary. Nate closed his eyes, reaching for his magic and touched Lev’s skin. The glittering shadows that brushed underneath Lev’s skin weaved through blood and bone right down to Lev’s very core. “He’s there,” Nate finally said. “I can feel him. He’s just. Deciding.”

“Deciding?” Cameron asked, mildly.

Nate smoothed down the blanket and stood up. He stopped at the doorway and looked down at Cameron. “You asked if he was there,” Nate said. “And I said he was. He’s making a choice.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @i-want-to-pinch-cams-cheeks @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #ch: cameron #ch: nate #ch: darius #ch: nik #ch: ash #hell to pay

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blackrosesfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 240

Chris

"Christopher, this is fucking real." Amber snaps.

I sit up in bed. "Bae."

She stands in front of the mirror. "This is going to be fucking... There's so much shit. I will be having a baby next year. What are we doing? Tell people? Not?"

"Girl, go to damn sleep."

"I can't." She blows. "Do you want to go with me to tell my parents? I mean like you going with me. So when we going?"

I sigh. "Arrange it and let me know. I don't fucking care. Go to sleep."

She walks towards the bedroom door. "It's fucking late. Get out the bed, FatHead."

"Walk faster." I groan.

"Aye, Chris." Trey says walking in the room.

I sigh. "Yeah."

"Cammie's mom made gumbo."

"For breakfast?"

"Bitch it's fucking 11."

I look at the clock. "I thought you were leaving."

"We all leaving tomorrow. You got the place till tomorrow. Plus Cammie's stepfather is here and Cammie acting like a human. I mean... me and Caden just woke up but anyway. She doing better."

"I thought it was you that needed fixing."

He shrugs. "My shit good."

"Where my baby?" I say looking around.

"Probably eating." Trey shrugs.

I sit up. "Is it wrong for wanting Amber pregnant and giving her a hard time about not wanting it?"

"What woman you know happy to be pregnant once she pregnant? You see Leah. You knew Cammie and MiMi. She pregnant. You take the happy days and you fucking go with it any other day."

"She not that far along."

"She pregnant. Who cares? They feel that shit."

I start to get out of bed then grab my balls when I feel a shit load of air. I chuckle at the face Trey makes. Before he could say anything Lane runs into the room.

"Chris you butt out!" Lane yells.

"Lane?" Cammie snaps.

Lane grabs Trey's legs. "Daddy, get me. Daddy?"

Trey picks him up as he scrambles from what might have been Cammie coming. Trey turns around walking out. I get up and walk to the bathroom. I'm not fucking getting rid of my baby. Amber can shut the fuck up and deal with life. She knew we were once trying. Nobody has been doing shit not to get pregnant.

"Mama Cammie can cook her ass off. Taste this."

"No." I snap.

She makes a lot of noise. I look behind me at her.

"Why are you being mean?"

"I feel like you putting all this stress on me about this baby when you and I both know you keeping it. Why argue?"

"Are you high? What are you talking about?" She snaps walking out. "What's happening? Chris acting mean to me because I'm not trying to kiss his ass today. Chris! You have a plane in the morning! I told him."

I'm fucking pissed off at the way she is acting right now. Like who the fuck is this when you been acting so shitty yesterday? I feel like she is acting fake as shit. But I don't know which Amber is fake. Is it this nice as person that seems to be okay with being pregnant or is that hateful bitch from last night fake? I walk into Cammie and Trey's room. Nobody was in there. I sigh.

"Nooo." Lane cries.

"Yo, what are you doing?" Trey asks walking past me into the room.

I realize that I was just standing there. "Ain't no way they can flip like that."

"Man, you don't know shit about little people then. But we woke up like this."

"Huh?" I retort. "Pregnant women."

He laughs. "Oh, yeah. I told you."

"I need to work on my attitude." I shake my head.

"Go talk to Rollie. I'm still working on my fucking attitude." He snatches Lane up from the bed. Lane starts crying. "Boy, what are you doing? Let's take a nap. Wait til your mama gets back."

Lane cries. "No tell Mommy."

Trey lies down on the bed with Lane. "Now is a good time to talk Chris. Go."

"Huh?"

"Talk to Amber while she feeling good, nigga. Do everything while she feeling good."

"Oh." I say turning to walk out. "You seen my daughter?"

"Getting spoiled by Cammie's mom. Cammie's nice twin."

Amber wasn't anywhere in the kitchen or front part of the house. I won't hunt her down to disturb her from her bouncy attitude. I'll wait til after I eat. I sit down at the table with Marco. He looks at me.

"Chris Brown right?"

"Nigga." I snap.

He chuckles then shows me his phone. There's a half naked woman on Facetime. I lean forward looking at the screen. I guess the nigga was showing me to someone not showing me his phone. She smiles faintly. I narrow my eyes at Marco. I guess all men are fucking dogs.

"You bold." I say looking down at my phone.

"She ain't shit to me." Macro's ass says out loud. Damn.

The girl says nothing. What the fuck? I didn’t think that was Marco. I just saw him as. Well shit. The motherfucker is never around. His baby mama is never with him or his kid. Hell they been together for a long as time and not married. It all makes sense. He hangs up the phone randomly. Like he had said bye.

"Marco you work?"

"Military."

"Who was that?" I nod towards the phone.

He kinda shakes his head. "I used to be in the military. I work at a gun manufactory company, which I got through my military clearance."

Hilda walks into the dining room. Oh shit. "Why you never do what I tell you?"

"What didn't I do?"

"Where is your son?"

Marco picks his phone up then puts it in his pocket. This man is clearly not paying attention to shit Hilda is saying. She slaps his dreads then she sucks her teeth walking out of the room. What kinda relationship is this? Marco chuckles to himself then he stands up.

"Thought you were different." I say to him.

"From who?" He shrugs.

I shrug back. "Don't know any faithful people nigga."

"I'm faithful." He nods. "Devin faithful."

"Devin not."

Marco makes a face. "This last time they been together. That’s been like 3 years. He a pretty good motherfucker."

"How you fucking faithful my nigga? I saw that fucking girl. I know you fucking loud ass girl. She ain't gonna go for you talking to some bitch on the phone."

"You right." Marco nods. "Aye, Baby!"

The sliding door opens. "Marco, go get your fucking son. Why are you calling me?"

"Tasha calling me again. I answered."

"I can't stand your childish ass shit." She says closing the door.

Marco laughs and walks out the door. "I tried."

"I thought I was fucked up." I say to myself.

I could hear him laughing still. I got a feeling he didn't say shit about that girl on his phone. I don't think I'm close enough to Hilda to start some shit about a girl on her man's phone. Let me mind my business. Weird ass guy.

Rollie

"Daddy, I... Daddy, you listening?" Jordan asks.

"Yes, Baby." I reply.

She hugs my neck. "I love you."

"I love you too." I say eating my food.

"Grandpa?" Jordan says funny. "Daddy, me and Grandpa going to look for seashells down by the big rocks. Oh Daddy, I have to tell you about my new grades. 3 A's and a B cause I didn't know we had a test and I missed school. I mean I didn't do the make up work. That's why. Is the B okay?"

I kiss her arm thats around my neck. "It's not okay that you didn't turn in work. So you didn't do everything you could but I like B's. I think you can try harder next time."

"Yes, sir, I can. Cause Mommy say I can't miss school if I can't make up my work. I want to go to California with you whenever I can. Or wherever you go."

"Can I eat?"

She let's go of my neck. "I'm going to ask Lexi if I can braid her hair like mine."

"Okay." I say relieved.

"God always has a way." Lonnie says.

I look at him. "What you talking bout, Preacher?"

He smiles at me then eats his food. After a few seconds he nods. "I think we can be friends on different terms now. You see how you can love a child that isn't yours. God teaches lessons all the time."

"Yeah."

"You still pray?"

I stare at him for a minute. He just casually talking and eating. Not caring if he talking to himself. Aight Lonnie. I do see how you can love a child that isn't yours. I don't need him and I never needed him to become the man I am today. But it was never any disrespect between us. I just simply needed him to know I didn't need a daddy. I guess we agree.

"Maybe not enough." I nod.

"Trey?" Lonnie says standing up. "Won't you have a sit? Talk a bit."

I glance at Trey. He looks at me then he walks into the room. "Sure."

"I like to be blunt." Lonnie says sitting and continuing to enjoy his meal.

"Good." Trey says.

Lane comes in the room whining. He wedges himself in between Trey's legs and watches me. What little boy? You got your daddy. Why you staring at me?

"I try to mind my business. That's not always best. Jayla needs a better man. More specifically a better husband then you. One who is complete."

I chuckle then look at Trey. Of course he had his face balled up mad. But Lonnie kept eating his food. I chuckle at that as the awkward pause feels the room. What are you going to say next Lonnie? You come here thinking you the fix to everyone's problem. What's going to fix this nigga?

"You aren't complete without God."

"Oh." I whisper. "Deep."

Lonnie looks at me. "Living in sin is equally as wrong as murder, in this case, suicide. You did good by getting married. God isn't going to punish you for doing right. He won't punish you for being rich either. But you have to acknowledge him and include him in your marriage. Complete yourself with God and you will be a better man."

"God?" Trey says like he never heard of God.

"Do you think your wife wanted to get married because of her family or because of her relationship with God."

Trey frowns. "Because of her reputation."

"Her reputation?" Lonnie frowns. "Well back home she is the sweet God fearing daughter of Gwendolyn. You know the good one. The one that's always in church. Until things happened at school 6 years ago. If I would have known then maybe she wouldn't have her sweet kids by you. So I won't go back in time. Because God makes no mistake when it comes to the lives that he puts on this Earth. Those boys were meant to be your boys. You were meant to be her husband."

"Yeah." Trey says.

Lonnie stands up from the table. "Would you like to pray with me later? Maybe I can give you some personal advise."

"That's cool." Trey says low.

"Good. Lane?" Lonnie says nodding then he chuckles.

Lane climbs into Trey's lap. "Daddy?"

"Okay, fine, Lane." Lonnie says walking out. "We will continue our game."

"I don't get why you and Cammie hate them so much. They don't seem all bad." Trey frowns.

I shrug. "Cause you older, wiser. Would you have honestly listened to that bull... BS as a teenager? A teenager that recently lost their parent? No. That's your answer. I answered for you."

"Maybe I do need to focus my marriage around God."

"Should have been done that." I say standing up and slapping Lane lightly.

Lane just hugs Trey. "Leave me alone."

I chuckle. "What is this man problem?"

"I don't know." Trey says hugging Lane back. "You okay Lane?"

"I okay." Lane says hugging Trey still. "Uncle Rollie hitting me."

Trey smiles at me. "Rollie don't hit him. He doesn't want to play right now."

I smile. "Sorry."

Bad ass gonna look at me to see my reaction. I leave out of the dining room going into the kitchen. Lonnie was sitting with April talking to her. Of course about God. He can't help take the church everywhere with him. But hell if it help Cammie and Trey then he needs to bring the whole church in this bitch. They need God.

"Rollie." Leah says walking into the kitchen. She touches my arm. "I don't know."

"Okay."

She grabs a bowl. "Did she make some that's not spicy for the kids?"

"My mama doesn't make hers spicy. She also makes the rice on the side." I say taking her bowl. "I'll do it for you."

"Oh..." Leah says frowning at me. "Thanks."

I nod my head at her. She hugs herself just staring at me. "Oh, did Jordan tell you about her grades? She wanted to be the one that told you. She was proud of her grades because she said you would be happy. Like I'm not happy when she makes good grades."

"Cause you fake." I say kissing at her.

"I tell that girl all the time how proud I am of her. She just really soaking this Daddy business up. Don't break my baby's heart."

I hand her the bowl. "I would never. Yours maybe."

She doesn't take it. Instead she eats some out of it cautiously. I look down her shirt as she leans forward. Her titties done grown like she already has milk in them. She snatches the bowl from me then turns my head towards the fridge. I look at my mother. She smiles slightly.

"Didn't hear me, TumTum?" She chuckles. "Did you like the gumbo?"

"Yeah, it was good." I nod.

She nods back. "April said I should have made my curry chicken. I didn't want to make anything too spicy. Plus gumbo can feed a lot. Maybe I'll cook her some another time."

"You should have made a cake."

"You want me to?" She nods. "I can get the stuff for it."

I shake my head. "Don't do anything special for me."

"Gwen, Lane is acting like he doesn't know me."

"I told you not to play that game with him. He doesn't stop his little games. Such a trickster like his mother was."

Lonnie chuckles to himself not saying anything. He rubs her arm then walks away. I leave out of the kitchen. I feel a lot differently towards Lonnie and my mother than I did years ago. I stop in front of Cammie and Trey's room.

"Lane!"

"No!"

I step inside. Cammie wasn't in the room. It was just Trey laying there with Lane on his chest. He was whispering something to Lane. Cammie comes out of the bathroom carrying a medicine bottle. She hands something to Lane. This girl gave him a damn pacifier. He puts it in his mouth then he takes it out looking at it.

"You giving him a pacifier?" I ask.

"He wanted to take his medicine like Caden. His ass wasted it all over the floor." Cammie snaps.

Lane a fucking spoiled ass little boy. I swear.

"That ain't gonna be my child. Imma show you how to raise a man."

"Bitch." Trey says then looks at Lane. Lane stares at him sucking on the pacifier. "You can't even stand to hear someone else child cry. It's a boy?"

"I'm saying it is." I shrug. "She doesn't want to know. She doesn't believe that we should know before the baby is born."

Trey narrows his eyes. "You have a girl it's over."

"You know it's different having Lonnie and GeeGee around as adults. Seems like shit changed. But ain't shit change but me." I say.

"Yeah."

Lane screams. Trey hands the pacifier to Cammie. "Stop."

"That mine!"

"Stop boy." Trey says sternly. Lane just lies there quiet. "Cammie talked with her mother about everything that happened in college. Peacefully. It's a lot of shit we got to get through as a family."

I chuckle. He being fucking modest. Bitch ass really saying he fucking told me so. Fucking prat. Throwing it in my face how he made that happen like he said he was. Then again the nigga didn't say that so I can't fucking say any of that shit. I nod my head at him. He smirks. See this bitch. Lane moves on his chest then gets off the bed screaming. He walks into the bathroom crying.

"Lane?" Cammie says. He just screams. "Okay, okay. You have to talk. I don't know what you want me to do. Tell me."

"I want Daddy."

Trey chuckles. "I'm so ready to be right. Again."

"Bitch." I say walking out.

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zoryany · 5 years ago

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@kaitodetective1412 sent me 45 -- You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

(an anon did as well and I do plan to answer both in different ways and I will tag kaito in the anon answer as well bc I feel like this isn’t what either of you wanted but it’s what you’re gonna get, for now)

Imperial Royal Skywalker Family AU Pt 1 || Pt 2

send me ficlet prompts – optionally include characters

Dessert passed in relative silence, the atmosphere in the dining room having grown decidedly tense. Luke had really been hoping he could have delayed Han meeting his father until after he’d spoken to his parents, but the Force seemed to be set on toying with him. At least Mother had been able to placate Father before he’d done anything rash, but Luke wasn’t sure that had been entirely preferable, either.

When they’d all finished, Luke moved to usher Han back to his suite, but his mother raised her hand before he had the chance to even rise from his chair. “Leia? Sweetheart, can you please escort Captain Solo to his rooms while your father and I talk to Luke?”

“Yes, Mother.” Leia looked as though she would rather swallow a bantha whole, but she knew better than to argue with their mother, especially when she was already in a dangerous enough mood. She was also probably hoping she’d get to be in on the whole conversation that was to come, which added to her disappointment. Not that it mattered, anyways, because one way or another, she would know exactly what was said, but her expression and presence in the Force soured significantly as she turned her gaze to Han. “Let’s go, Captain. I don’t have all night.”

Han threw a final, withering look over his shoulder as Leia led him from the room, leaving Luke alone with his mother at last. With a severe expression, she turned to face him, and Luke felt his stomach drop out from under him. Out of the eyes of company, it was entirely clear just how upset she really was. All of the guilt that had been eating at him for the past weeks rose back up in him all at once.

“Come, dear,” said his mother as she stood. “Let’s not keep your father waiting.”

Hanging his head, Luke followed his mother with heavy steps to his father’s study. Unlike the rooms of the Palace occupied largely by the Empress, Darth Vader’s spaces, both planetside and on his flagship, tended to be dim and spartan, possessing little in the way of embellishments. He claimed it as practicality -- and, on most occasions, Luke would agree with that -- but right about now, he was convinced that it was meant to make facing him all that more intimidating.

Luke had never been afraid of his father. He understood why people were, and why they should be, and he was all too aware of what someone as powerful as Darth Vader was capable of, but he’d never feared him. His father would never hurt him or Leia, especially not with Mother around to rein in his temper, but there was always a certain anxiety that overtook him whenever his father was angry. He hated the feeling, the sudden urge to cower in submission before a man he’d idolized all his life and who loved him deeply. Leia had always been better than Luke at standing strong in the face of his emotions, perhaps because she had never felt the same level of hero-worship towards him, but Luke was finding himself longing for some of her strength right about now.

His father had been pacing the length of the room when they’d arrived, but the moment they crossed the threshold, he stopped in his tracks and whirled around. The movement was so abrupt that most would assume that kind of speed impossible from a man as large as Vader, but he moved quick enough to send his cape billowing behind him. “Sit,” he commanded, pointing to a chair in the centre of the room.

As he complied, his mother walked to stand to the right of her husband, both parents folding their arms across their chests. His cheeks burned in shame as he avoided looking directly at them. How was it that they could so easily make him feel like he was five years old again?

“You know why you are here, son.” The modulated voice carried a tranquil rage, one that affected him far more than being shouted at ever would. “Explain.”

‘You can do this, Luke,’ he thought silently, sucking in a shuddering breath in an attempt to steady himself. ‘You’ve been practicing this speech in your head since you left.’

"I -- I can’t apologize enough for leaving without warning like that. I know I put you through needless worry, and I’m sure that nothing I can do will make up for that. I just... needed to get away.” Stars, it sounded even lamer saying it out loud than it did in his head. Neither parent looked pleased. He pressed on. “You know I’ve never really liked -- never really been comfortable with any of... well, our status.” Once again, he was jealous of Leia. She wouldn’t be stumbling over her words like this. “I’ve never liked being the Prince, never really liked making public appearances. Never been good at them, either. Leia’s always been better suited for it. And after twenty years of it, I was feeling... claustrophobic. I needed some freedom.”

“Freedom?” It had always been a touchy subject for his father, Luke knew, but he had to hope he could use that to his advantage. “As the Imperial Prince, you have been granted every want, every desire you could hope for. Your mother and I fought tirelessly, made endless sacrifices to create this life for you and your sister. There has never been more freedom in the galaxy, and you stand at the head of it all.”

Was his father being serious? “You... actually expect me to believe that being rich and powerful is the same as being free?” But then, of course his father did. “Maybe you just don’t realize this gilded cage you’ve put me in, Father. I can’t go anywhere beyond our private quarters without an excessive number of guards accompanying me. You and mother have to be aware of my location at every given moment. I’m not allowed to fly or talk to people or do anything without express permission! It’s suffocating! It’s -- ”

“For your safety,” his father growled, hands falling from his chest to form clenched fists at his sides. Next to him, his mother tensed slightly, pursing her lips, but she did nothing more than focus on watching him just a bit more closely. “Everything I have ever done has been to keep you and your mother and your sister safe. The life we live has come at a great cost, and I will not see you throw it all away out of some foolish rebellion. If something would have happened to you -- ”

“But it didn’t!” Luke cried, his voice pitching upward. Any fear or anxiety he’d been feeling had evaporated, and he was prepared to staunchly defend himself. He was not an idiot. He knew exactly how his parents would feel and how they would react to his departure. The decision he made was conscious and purposeful, and he had every intention of justifying it. “I can take care of myself, you know. All that training hasn’t been for nothing. I was careful. I took every precaution. And I’m twenty years old, now, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

While his mother’s face had relaxed a bit, his father did not appear to be convinced. “You may technically be an adult,” he said, slowly, “but you are still my child -- our child. I have torn down the galaxy once to protect you, and I would do it a thousand times over if it keeps you from harm.”

Letting out a noise of frustration, Luke leapt up from his seat. “But that’s just it! I know you have and I know that you were trying to do it again! Don’t think I didn’t notice the swath of destruction you left in your wake when you tried to track me down this time. It’s too much! I love you both so much, but I don’t want the galaxy to grind to a halt just because I ask for some time alone. I can’t stand all the attention, the pomp and circumstance that surrounds everything I do, the formality I’m forced to endure just to attend dinner! I just -- ” His voice broke, and he was embarrassed to find his eyes stinging as he looked imploringly at his parents. “All I wanted was a little bit of normalcy.”

Slumping back in his chair, Luke realized he may not have processed all of this quite as successfully as he’d initially thought. Running away, it turned out, had only served as a distraction from genuinely confronting what was really bothering him.

“Normalcy?” The vocoder’s tone was dull and flat, and his father seemed to have relaxed his stance, somewhat, almost in disbelief. “You wish to be ordinary? Like every other being in this galaxy?” Disbelief was evident, now. His father’s fists had uncurled, his shoulders slackened, and though he could not see his face, Luke got the impression of wide eyes and raised brows. “That... is unacceptable. You are the furthest thing from ordinary, son. You are above those lesser beings, and I would not see you receive anything less than you deserve. ”

"No,” Luke said, quietly but firmly, “I am not above them.” He’d spent countless hours in the Coruscant underground, on treks both known and unknown to his parents, and he’d spent several weeks touring the galaxy. He had interacted with their citizens on a regular basis, and he knew who they really were. They were people, beings with dreams and aspirations and ideals, and they were magnificent. “My abilities and my status don’t make me any better than anyone else. Aren’t we supposed to be ruling the galaxy for them?”

A stubborn set worked its way through his father’s frame, unyielding as ever. “We do. The galaxy has never fared better.” And he could not be certain if that was a truth or a lie, but his father certainly believed it. “But I cannot allow you to stoop to the level of those below your status. The future of our benevolent Empire rests upon you and your sister. You must maintain a particular image if you wish for your control over them to endure.”

“Are you not listening to me?” But Luke already knew the answer to that. Of course his father wasn’t listening to him. Anything that contradicted his very specific view of the universe rarely made it through. “I don’t want that power to rest on me! I’m not interested in having people grovel at my feet or flinch away from me in fear. I don’t want people to worship me or treat me like... like -- ”

“Royalty?” His father’s arms were folded across his chest again. “That is what you are.”

Luke was prepared to cut in, and his father looked like he had more to say, but before either of them could speak up again, his mother stepped up and placed a gentle hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Ani, wait.” Even after twenty years, Luke could still not believe just how quickly his father seemed to settle when his mother intervened. “I think I know what this is about.” His mother’s expression grew tender as she stepped towards him, crouching down before his chair and cupping his face in her hands. “Dearest,” she said with unparalleled tenderness, “was this because of your birthday?”

Reading the sympathy and understanding in his mother’s deep brown eyes, Luke found himself leaning into her touch. She was radiating compassion, searching for understanding, and Luke knew that this was the reason he’d always intended to return home when he’d left. His parents loved him. They cared for him. They wanted what was best for him, even if they didn’t know how to go about it. All he’d wanted was to do something on his own terms.

“Yes...”

Because his birthday had not been on his terms. It hadn’t been on Leia’s, either, but she could adapt to it much easier than her brother. He’d been overwhelmed, surrounded by sycophants who only wanted to know him because he was an heir, and his status meant that he could not enjoy even the smallest of pleasantries at a party that was meant to be for him and his twin. And then the scene during the speeches...

He’d never wanted to leave his family. Luke loved his mother, father and sister with his entire being. But their status had always weighed on him, and that night had been a breaking point.

“Oh, sweetheart...” His mother shifted her grip and pulled him close. Luke squeezed his eyes shut. Tears had been threatening to spring forth since he’d sat back down, and they ran freely down his cheeks when his mother’s arms enveloped him. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have talked this out. You didn’t need to run away.”

At this point, his father had taken a single step forward, appearing somewhat hesitant but still refusing to relent. Luke chose to focus on his mother, and he found himself sinking in on himself even more. It felt nearly impossible to convey how he felt and what he wanted without hurting their feelings. His mother’s sympathetic gaze coupled with his father’s unyielding stance only served to elevate his guilt.

But there was this sneaking feeling within him that the conversation his mother suggested wouldn’t have gone well regardless.

“I didn’t think you would listen to me,” he said quietly. “You’re still not really listening to me. I had to do something drastic. It felt like the only option, at the time, and I still feel like it’s not enough. Han makes me happy in a way that all that spectacle just - doesn’t. So I just - I need you to understand why - and I mean actually understand. Because I didn’t want to run. And I don’t want to do it again. But I can’t keep going like this...”

For a long moment, his mother looked at him with large, sad eyes before finally withdrawing her hands and stepping away. “Alright,” she said, a quiet resignation working its way into her voice. “I... don’t think we’ll get much further tonight. Why don’t you go wash up for bed, and your father and I will discuss what you’ve told us.” She pressed her lips together and gave him a long, steady look. “We want what’s best for you, Luke. Please know this.”

And he did. The trouble was, their idea of what was best for him didn’t always match up to his own.

“Luke.” His father seemed uncharacteristically hesitant. “Please do not resort to this again.”

There was more his father wanted to say - more they all wanted to say - but Luke felt satisfied that they had, at the very least, made some manner of progress tonight.

“I won’t, Father. I promise.”

#imperial royal skywalker family au #luke skywalker #darth vader #padme naberrie #padme amidala #my writing #star wars fic #i THINK i'm happy with this #hope you folks enjoy!#any feedback is obviously appreciated #so let me know what you think!#and if you want more of this AU #either a continuation #or like other things that go down in it

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