#going completely off the rails deranged right now

[asliceofoceanmist]

vegas worshipping pete 

#vegaspete #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche #tosnimeat #going completely off the rails deranged right now #tamara gifs #mine: kinnporsche

[myfictionaldreams]

I can’t lose you // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

Summary: Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

Requested by: @tinkerbellasstuff​ (thank you so much for the request!)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, dom/sub, hostage, threats of violence, angst, fluff, hurt, size difference, double penetration, protective steve/bucky, anal and vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise kink, begging, subspace, pet names, not beta read

Word: 5.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You know, this feels more like a treat for the both of you rather than me”, you explained watching Steve and Bucky skim through the dresses on the rack around the store and pile their favourites in front of you. Dating the leader of the Rogers mafia had its perks, Steve knowing all the right people had managed to book out the entire store for you to look and purchase anything that you wanted, something he liked to do on occasions to treat you. However, you always hated spending his money, the situation almost feeling wasteful so the shopping experience usually felt like you were being Bucky or Steve’s shadow as they searched through the clothes that they thought you would like or want you to wear which you much preferred to do. Especially as they both had a very good eye for picking out the most beautiful clothing, even though they seemed to be eye-watering expensive.

“If you bite that lip one more time hot mama, I’m going to take it out myself” Bucky muttered as he placed a suspiciously short black dress in front of you, not taking his eyes off of yours as he backed away, disappearing into the mass of clothing rails. Releasing the lip that you hadn’t realised was between your teeth as you shook your head, looking at the article of clothing now in your hands.

“You know, I might just let him”, Steve then whispered into your ear, making you jump not having noticed that he was close. It was now his turn to pass you a deep maroon silk dress. Both of your cheeks warmed at his words, something Steve seemed to notice as he leaned to peck your cheek and smile against your skin. “I love how easy it is to make your flush, baby”.

“I’m going to try some on!” you declared, standing quickly, holding the two dresses tightly in your hand, brushing past the Blonde mafia boss, ignoring his chuckle at your reactions as you moved into the empty changing rooms.

Breezing into one of the cubicles and shutting the curtain behind you, a few seconds passed as you decided which dress to try on first before finally going for the maroon dress. As you were about to ease the jumper up and over your head, a noise was heard on the other side of the curtain, stopping your movements. Smiling to yourself whilst simultaneously rolling your eyes, you shouted, “Steve, I’ve not even tried the first dress on yet, give me some time”-.

All words were cut off as the curtain was yanked to the side, revealing a deranged-looking man that you recognised from a few weeks ago. Not even daring to breathe as your heart pounded violently in your chest, staring at the man that you couldn’t quite remember his name, not that you could even remember your own when you noticed the gun being lifted to point directly at your forehead.

When you and Steve first started dating, he had spent hours going over how to react in different scenarios whether it was kidnap, being tied to a chair or being held at gunpoint but you’d never been in this sort of situation before, Steve and Bucky having never left your side for you to be in any danger. Trying your hardest not to allow fear to take over you completely, thinking hard over what Steve had taught you. The first was to show you were no threat, most of Steve’s enemies were triple the size of you and rather than trying to fight them off, you’d have to make them feel like they were in control so, you raised your shaking hands palms up, showing your surrender. Next was that you must follow their orders if and when necessary until help arrives, try and find out as much information as possible from the threat but as you looked into the desperate man's wild eyes, you didn’t want to risk upsetting him anymore by asking for his name. So you stayed in silence, as you heard Steve and Bucky talking close by, internally begging that you both stayed in there, you couldn’t even think about either of the boys being hurt but luck wasn’t on your side as he waved the gun in the direction of the boys, a silent command for you to walk ahead.

Exiting the changing cubicle, still facing the man, you took slow, steady steps backwards toward the main area of the store. “Turn around”, your heart dropped at his words, hating the fact that you had to have your back to the man with the gun.

Doing as commanded, you held back a scream as his arm was suddenly around your throat, not fully restricting your airwards but enough to make you struggle and grip his forearm to try and ease the tension as the cold tip of the gun was now pressed against your temple. He now led the way with his body behind yours, pushing you forward and entering the store once more. Your eyes desperately flicked between Steve and Bucky who both had their backs towards the two of you, still idly looking at clothes.

“Hands up!” the stranger shouted suddenly, making you jump, breath coming in shuddering bursts as you watched both of your boyfriends instinctively reached for their own guns in the holster attached to their chests but stopping when quickly when they turned and saw your predicament.

“Steve” you pleaded, hoping your voice wouldn’t annoy the man behind you but he didn’t say anything, only pushed the gun further into your temple causing a slight whimper to come out of your lips. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” the man demanded at Steve and Bucky’s movements. “Do you want me to blow a hole in her head, is that it? Both of you slowly, take out your guns and slide them over to me and if I hear either of your safety being clicked I can guarantee I will shoot her before you shoot me”. Both men stopped their movements instantly taking a second to contemplate the man's threats before slowly undoing the strap holding their guns to the belts and then sliding them across the floor until they knocked into your feet.

Now it had been a few minutes, and you had contemplated trying to disarm the man exactly how you’d been taught to do but now with the added pressure of both potentially being in the firing line and your increasing panic attack trembling beneath the surface, you decided against it. Instead, you tried to tug on his arm away from your neck as his rising anger only meant that he was cutting off your airway more.

Steve managed to catch your eye, seemingly not even blinking, almost like he was trying to communicate with you and for the most part, it helped you to steady your breathing. Your trust in Steve and Bucky was much more than the fear you held over the man holding you hostage but with their weapons now at your feet and they couldn't approach any closer, only the negative outcomes were consuming your thoughts entirely.

“Paul, don’t be stupid, point the gun somewhere else”, Steve’s voice remained calm as he addressed the man behind you, his name now sparking the memory of seeing him only two weeks ago in the boy's office, he looked just as angry then as he did now. Even as your body continued to tremble, you tried to hold eye contact with Steve’s unnaturally calm face, a clear comparison to Bucky’s when you had briefly glanced over and seen unfathomable rage, his body shaking slightly.

“Oh, should I? Did you do the same when my brother pleaded for his life a month ago?” Paul’s snarled, voice breaking slightly as if he was on the verge of tears. The hand holding the gun began to tremble with his heightening emotions but then he seemed to study himself, pressing it in further into your temple causing both pressure and pain to leave you gasping and knees buckling.

Steve and Bucky both shifted forward at hearing you in pain but Paul continued to shout, “stop! Hands-on your head, both of you. Did you really think you could get away with killing my brother? That there would be no repercussions for your actions, Rogers?”

You weren’t sure when but you’d begun to cry, wetness pooling down your cheeks, a sight that seemed to make Bucky flinch before he decided to speak up. “What do you think you’re going to achieve doing all this Paul? You kill her then what? We let you leave? Do you really think you’re going to get out of this situation without being skinned alive”. His voice was dripped with venom as he spoke and you could feel Paul shake slightly at the threat before he righted himself, standing to his full height which only caused you to stand on your tip toes from his grip around your throat.

“Maybe you’re right Barnes, I won’t get out of this alive, but what makes you so certain that you will?”

“No!” One moment the gun was pressed against your head and the next it was being pointed at Bucky and it was almost on instinct that you released your hold on his arm and reached for the gun, pulling it back to point at you. It was like a reflex, not fully comprehending what you’d done but judging by the dark looks in Steve and Bucky’s eyes, they weren’t happy with it.

What shocked you next was a chuckle coming from the man holding you, his mouth moving to your ear which only caused more rage in Steve’s eyes. “Do you really want to die for these murderers?” he whispered.

“Yes”, you answered honestly, without a moment's hesitation. Pauls's arm tightened around your throat with more strength, cutting off any chance of you breathing in. Struggling against his hold, eyes now closing as the overwhelming pressure increased in your head, white noise pounding in your ears.

“Have it your way then”, Paul continued, the cool tip of the gun once again pressing in against your head, if you’d opened your eyes you would have noticed Steve and Bucky make a move to step forward when the deafening bang of a gun firing echoed throughout the store.

Almost in an instant, the arm around your neck loosens so that you were able to suck in the deepest breath you’d ever experienced but it only caused you to cough violently, trying desperately to take more and more breaths as your knees gave way. A warm body caught you before were able to collide with the floor and Steve’s urgent voice was whispering in your ear as he was able to drag you across the store.

In the rush and panic of the store being raided by other members of Steve’s gang, you were able to spot Paul lifeless on the floor with blood pouring from the fatal wound in his head but Steve was quick to cup your cheeks and turn you away from the scene. “That’s it baby keep taking nice long breaths for me, in and out. Are you injured anywhere else? Are you ok?” You’d never heard Steve fully lose control like this before, no matter the situation he was always level-headed but he seemed just as close to having a panic attack as you were.

As he spoke, he continued to move you throughout the Store until the sun was beaming down on you and the car door was being opened for him to place you into the backseat. Steve’s thumbs brushed away the tears that had stained your cheek, you were able to respond. “Steve, I’m ok, I think, I’m-I’m fine” your fingers rubbed against your neck, something Steve was quick to notice.

His fingers lingered on the sore spot before leaning his face closer and fiercely kissing your forehead, taking a deep breath in, almost like he was trying to memorise your smell before swiftly leaving and shutting the car door behind him and walking back into the shop. Muffled, you were able to hear him shout to Bucky, “take her home, now!”

The brunette was out of the store and into the driver's side of the car in only a few strides, engine on and the store was far in the rear-view mirror. In the shock of suddenly driving off without Steve, your tears had ceased and concern had replaced fearful feelings as Bucky drove harshly through traffic, definitely going over the speed liit as he swerved around cars. “Bucky please slow down, we should have waited for Steve.”

“Put your seatbelt on”, was his only response, blue eyes unblinking as he stared ahead at the road. You couldn’t sit in the back and not be close to him, not after everything that had occurred so made the decision to quickly climb into the front of the car and into the passenger side seat.

“You need to put your seatbelt on as well”, you tried to tell him, fumbling with shaking fingers to clip in your own. Bucky didn’t say a single word as he kept one hand on the wheel, and the other helped to click your seatbelt before quickly doing his own. The two of you didn’t speak another word, even though you wanted to talk, tell him how much you love him, how scared you were, how thankful you are to him and Steve and the gang but every time your mouth opened, all thoughts dispersed.

Finally giving up on the words, you watched him carefully. How painfully his jaw was clenched, the metal hand that was holding the steering wheel so violently you could see the material was beginning to bend and he was sat so still you were sure for a moment that he wasn’t breathing.

So lost in watching Bucky, you’d not noticed that the two of you had arrived at the gates of your home until the car stopped directly outside of the front door. The silence was almost deafening as you swallowed thickly but Bucky’s thoughts seemed to be somewhere far away. Deciding to make the first step, you unclipped both your and Bucky’s seat belt.

“Don’t you ever point the gun at yourself and risk your life for me ever again, do you understand?” His voice was only just above a whisper, cold and full of passion as his eyes finally snapped to look at yours.

You weren’t sure what to respond with, on instinct wanting to disagree, having made the same decision a thousand times more but with the panic and hurt in his eyes, you weren’t sure you could have this conversation right now.

“Yes, I understand”.

“Good… because I can’t lose you” Bucky’s voice cracked as well as your heart as his eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

“I can’t lose you either”, you couldn’t hold back your emotions as warm tears escaped the corner of your eyes as the two of you reached for one another. Bucky opened his arms as you climbed across the car until you were straddling his lap, the steering wheel uncomfortable against your back but you didn’t care as he held you close to his chest. Finally, you released the pent-up emotions, sobbing into his shirt as he comforted you with soft whispers and delicate strokes of his fingers through your hair.

Eventually, your cries calmed and a soft buzz hummed through your veins, muscles relaxing into his hold, the warmth from his body consuming you thoroughly. “It’s ok, I’ve got you, no one’s going to hurt you now, I’m never letting you go”, Bucky continued to whisper comforts that made you feel safe.

A knock at the car window had Bucky shifting but you paid no attention to it, wanting to only be with Bucky, unsure of even how much time had passed. The sound of the door opening filled the silence, and then Steve’s voice was floating to your ears. “Is she asleep?”

“No I don’t think so, are you sweetheart?” Bucky asked before kissing the side of your head.

“I’m awake, sir” you were able to mumble, feeling even fuzzier, mouth dry and head spinning slightly. “I feel funny”.

“Lets’s get you inside baby” Steve encouraged, working with Bucky to ease you from the car and once more half-carrying you into your home.

Promptly you found yourself being placed onto the couch, your body melting into the cushions. Steve knelt before you as Bucky walked into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, handing it to you which you gladly drank. The two men waited patiently for you to finish drinking before Steve took your hand.

“What happened today, I can promise will never happen again.” Bucky took your other hand as he sat next to you on the couch, looking at you just as intently as Steve was.

“I know-”

“Please let me finish. What happened today, I don’t know how that little weasel managed to sneak his way into the facility or get as close to you as he was able to hurt you. But please know, you will never be in harm's way ever again. If another person so much as looks at you wrong, I promise their lives will be quickly ended. In fact, I’m slightly annoyed that Sam ended that fucker as quickly as he had, he deserved to feel everything I had planned for him” Steve spat with venom before taking a quick steadying breath before continuing.

“I love you, Bucky loves you and I know you love us. Nothing like this will happen again, can you forgive us?”

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive, you couldn’t have helped what happened. I knew what loving you both would be like, the danger I wanted to put myself in and I’d never blame you, I love you and nothing can change that.” The truth spilt from your lips in a blur, every word the truth and you wish there was a way that you could prove this more but you found yourself completely exhausted.

You tried to smile at the men who seemed still just as tense but as you caught each of their eyes with your own, they seemed to relax, squeezing your hands before Steve smiled back. “How are you feeling now? Does your neck still hurt?” 

“Slightly, but mostly when I touch it or move my head, otherwise I’m ok, still feeling a little fuzzy” you admitted.

Bucky nodded your head, stroking a hand now your cheek to cup your face tenderly. “Did he injure anywhere else?”

“No, nowhere else”.

“Do you mind if we check?” Steve asked seriously, a slight crease appearing between his brows. 

“Yes, of course, but you have nothing to worry about”.

“I still just want to be sure”. Each man sat beside you, your head turning in each direction causing you to wince at the movement. “Look forward Doll, we’ve got you”.

You did as instructed, trying to peak from the corner of your eyes as Steve and Bucky moved with the same idea in mind, inspecting a hand each in their lap before kissing each of your fingers delicately when they deemed there was no injury. Next, they turned your arms, looking at every inch of skin and then leaving a trail of kisses as they moved along the limbs. The tenderness in their movements had you shivering in anticipation, especially as they reached the shoulders and their heavy gaze was felt on your burning face.

Steve leaned forward first, the touch of his lips against your cheeks causing your eyes to shut in calmness. Then as Bucky’s lips connected with your other cheek, did Steve lean in to kiss you deeply, all emotions from the day, the love, everything went into the kiss and it had you moaning and almost wanting to cry and all too quickly he was pulling back and Bucky was taking his place, the metal hand stroking a stray of hair behind your ear.

As Bucky too moved back, you made to follow but the brunette paused your movements, his chuckle deep in his chest, “we still need to check the rest of your body first, mama”.

Steve's fingers gripped the edge of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving in just a simple lacy white bra that displayed your already perked nipples beneath. Their eyes, followed by their lips moved to your shoulders, causing a shiver to spark down your spine and goosebumps to litter your skin.

Steve moved back first as he reached the edge of your bra, “stand up for us baby”. He held up his hand for you to hold as you stood, turning you slightly so your front was facing Steve and your back was facing Bucky who was too now standing. Your breaths were coming out in short bursts as you tried to not look down as Steve knelt before you, hands resting on your hips, searching your body before leaning in a licking a single strip from your navel to the band of your bra.

Bucky was similarly doing the same except when he reached the lacy material, with one hand unclipped the clasps at the back, allowing for the material to slip from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to Steve who hungrily disposed of the material and seal his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out an ungodly moan, back arching to be closer to Steve, hands lifting to hold onto his blonde hair but Bucky eased his own hands around you, tugging lightly on your wrists until they were in his grasp and behind your back.

Steve then moved to the other nipple, his hand squeezing the now wet and perky breast as his tongue teased the other, the sensations and pleasure pulsing to between your legs. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on his touch, the warmth and comfort that it gave you, as well as Bucky was still tenderly kissing up and down your spine, holding your hands together. 

“Steve…” sighing as you spoke his name, feeling the need increasing in your cunt, thighs rubbing together to try and ease any sort of tension. With a wet pop, Steve unattached himself from your nipple, leaving it slightly swollen from his mouth's action and once more he continued his visual and physical journey down your body.

Helping you out of your jeans and underwear in one swift motion, dragging them down your legs, Bucky helping to keep you upright as the material was removed from each leg, both socks going with it until you were in the complete nude before them both.

Once again, Steve and Bucky worked in tandem with one another. As Steve lifted one leg up to cradle, he inspected your feet, calf and thigh, kissing and licking as he moved, and Bucky did the same with the leg you were trying to stand on. Both of them doing so was a difficult feat to achieve, especially as both reached your sensitive thighs that had your knee buckling therefore Bucky had to keep you upright but never faltered in his lips journey.

Your skin was now hot to the touch, especially as you could feel the cool air around you grazing over your damp upper thighs from where your desire had spread over and as Steve and Bucky reached the top of their individual thigh, you were already moaning for whatever their next moves were.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel Bucky smiling against your arse cheek as he leaned in to peck each one quickly and then standing to his full height, standing so his clothed chest was against your naked back, arms trapped in the small space as both his arms encircled around your waist.

You were about to ask what he had planned but his actions proved the answer for this as he lifted you slightly, allowing your legs to drape over Steve’s shoulders and his face to delve between your legs, right to that spot you were so desperate for him to search. Instinctively your thighs clenched around his face as his thick tongue pushed between your folds, but he seemed to like being squeezed from the deep moan he purred.

Steve didn’t miss a single drip of liquid as he licked up and down your slit, slipping his tongue into your already clenching hole as far as he could reach before pulling out and moving up to your early awaiting clit that he greedily sucked into his warm mouth. You were completely overwhelmed by his wonderful mouth, a continuous stream of moans spilling from your mouth.

“Do you like that Doll? Do you like it when he fucks you with his tongue?” Bucky asked, his face had dropped so that his lips were ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Yes, sir” you quickly agreed, wishing that your arms were free so that you could run it through Steve’s blonde hair. Bucky chuckled at your response, kissing your temple and continuing to hold you up for Steve to continue pleasuring you.

As Steve’s tongue swirled around your clit at an increased pace, you could feel the sudden tightening in your abdomen, a sensation that was only increasing with each stroke of Steve’s. “I’m going to cum daddy”, you announced, not being able to hold back the nickname anymore, needing them to know just how far gone you truly were in the pleasure.

The mafia leader seemed to like it if the smile against your pussy was anything to go by and the next moment, you felt the tip of two of his fingers breach your cunt, stretching it out. Once again, the duo worked together, Bucky began whispering encouragements in your ear, “cum for us Doll, that’s it mama, cum all over his face”, and Steve began curling his fingers against that spot within that had you seeing stars as his mouth sucked harshly on your clit.

It only took another breath and the overwhelming sensation consumed your entire body, back arching, legs twitching and cunt convulsing and his fingers as you orgasmed hard. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as you tried to regain your normal breathing pattern.

“I want you both” you declared after a moment, wanting nothing more at that moment than to feel you all connected and to feel full of their cocks. Steve eased a few inches away from your cunt, looking up at you which you could now see as you glanced down with half-lidded eyes.

“I think we should take it easy today, we don’t want to put you under too much pressure today, you need to rest”.

You weren’t able to hold back to annoyed sigh, even if you had tried to. “Well you should have thought about that before checking me for marks, I want you both, please daddy”.

“Sassy Girl”, Bucky whispered against your cheek as he still held you up.

“Fine, but give it some time, we need to prep you first” Steve finally agreed but you were still being impatient.

“No, I want to feel it, I know I can take it, I just want to feel you both now and it was only this morning that you’d both fucked me anyway. I promise I can take it” you tried to reason with him, sticking out your lower lip for better effect as he looked up at you from his position still on his knees.

Steve and Bucky seemed to have a silent conversation with each other, something that you’d decided was taking way too long as you wiggled your hips, knocking slightly into Steve’s face. “Fine, you win baby” he finally relented, standing up and dropping your shaky legs to the floor.

Thankfully Bucky was still holding up most of your weight as you tried to hide your shit-eating grin as Steve began undressing, your eyes dropping to the throbbing cock, already dripping to be inside of you. Steve let out a deep chortle, your eyes looking up at his face to see his smile curved into a beautiful smirk as he held out his arms for you.

“Come here, sweetheart”, the mafia leader helped to grasp your hips, lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around his waist, hands that were once trapped behind your back were now gripping the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Your lips were instantly connected with his, desperately moving and pressing against his soft ones, tongue even slipping between. You were utterly breathless and only pulled back to gasp as the tip of his cock pressed against your awaiting hole, pushing in slowly, making sure to give you time to adjust to his size.

“Fuck you feel so good” he praised in your ear, teeth then nibbling the soft lobe as you moaned and tried to refrain from dropping your head back as your neck still ached slightly.

From behind you, Bucky swiftly removed his clothes, moving his hand up and down his shaft a few times as he watched you hungrily from behind, waiting for the moment Steve glanced at him and gave a swift nod and then stepped forward so his chest was once more touching your back, one hand now resting on your hip and the other at the base of his cock.

“Remember Doll, if you want me to stop use the colour code, ok? We’ll take this nice and easy hot mama.”

Bucky's voice was calm as he talked you through his motions as he aimed his cock towards your asshole. Both of the mens body heats were helping your body to relax as you closed your eyes, leaning your head delicately against Steve’s shoulders, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to tense around Steve’s cock that was still inside of your cunt as Bucky began to penetrate you.

Without the fucking session from the morning, you wouldn’t have been able to take him without any prepping as both men were significantly sized. Even with the morning, the stretch of Bucky’s cock still had you squeezing your eyes tightly, trying to remain relaxed so that it wouldn’t hurt as inch after inch delved deeper until his full cock was twitching inside, matching Steve’s.

You almost felt beyond full, your muscles between your legs stretching to the max and you were thankful that they were so tentative of your feelings, letting you take your time to adjust, taking a few deep breaths before attempting to raise your hips slightly, indicating that you were ready.

Bucky and Steve then took complete control so that all you had to do was hold onto Steve and melt into their bodies as they began slowly rolling their hips, working together to drag across every single one of your nerves that had you screaming out in pleasure.

They began slowly, making sure to still not cause you any harm but before long you couldn’t take the reserved pace. “Please go faster, I need you to fuck me harder daddies, please!”

You sounded desperate and that’s because you were, wanting to feel the rough slaps of their hips, the way their fingers clenched harder into your skin as they started to lose control of their own restraints. You needed this thought, needing to forget about the day's events, about how close you were to losing them both.

The orgasms you were experiencing were enough to make you forget your own name, only being able to scream there as your cunt and asshole tightened and contracted almost consistently around them but they didn’t relent their movements.

Maybe you were lost in subspace, the surroundings have become fuzzy, or maybe you were just cock drunk but at some point, tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t lose either of you” you sobbed, head tipping back against Bucky, not caring about the pain you experienced in your neck from the movement.

Both men stopped fucking you which was the exact opposite of what you wanted as you desperately moaned, “please don’t stop!”

They did as instructed, almost trying to move closer, kissing along your shoulder and face, catching any tears that had slipped out as they put as much emotion into their fucking as you were into your moaning.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, ever! I love you” Steve grunted as his hot cum coated your pussy, dripping out and onto the floor as he sloppy slowed down his thrusting.

Bucky continued to fuck you hard, your cunt already spasming through another orgasm, you weren't even sure what number it was anymore.

“I’m going to always protect you mama, don’t forget that” Bucky grunted, his balls tightening to his body as you were able to moan out ‘i love you’ as he found his own release, his cum dripping down and missing with Steve’s.

All three of you were breathing heavily, sweating glistening your naked bodies as you kept your eyes closed. Bucky and Steve had pulled out at one point but continued to hold you up between them.

“You with us baby?” Steve asked, kissing your forehead, not caring about the sweat.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, sounding half asleep.

Bucky smiled into your shoulder, kissing it once before taking a step back, “don’t worry Doll, we’re going to look after you” he promised, watching as Steve began to carry you up to the bedroom, planning to get you washed and into bed. Even if tomorrow the full extent of the day's events hits you, you knew that Steve and Bucky would be there for you no matter what.

#mafia au #steve rogers smut #stucky smut #steve rogers one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes one shot #steve rogers fanfic #marvel smut #marvel one shot #stucky one shot #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #mine*

[ginnsbaker]

In Flames I Sleep Soundly (2/2)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

Word Count: 9k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Non-graphic depictions of violence

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience, I hope... I don't know what I hope. I'm just grateful that you guys took the time to read this piece and leave comments in my inbox. I do have more to say later, but for now I just needed to post this. 

Let me know if you have some questions or clarifications. (yes, I wrote this sentence after sending a work email)

AO3 / Part One / Masterlist

--

Part Two

You’ve always thought that life is like a train ride. 

And as a passenger, you know only two things: the direction of the course and its scheduled stops. And so, it’s like this: get born into the world, take your first steps, go to elementary school, go to high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have children, have grandchildren, and then die in your sleep. If there’s an afterlife, perhaps get resurrected into a young version of you, and move into another train. And then begin another journey. 

But what the passenger doesn’t know is that a train can only move forward when it’s on its rails. And this is where the helplessness of every individual in that train becomes apparent. Your life–or at least how you want it to go–is not entirely in your hands.

For you, a single phone call managed to completely derail your train from its tracks. And then, as if still unsatisfied, it plucked you violently from it and left you on your own in the middle of nowhere.

You didn’t know where to go, only where you’ve been. Like a diamond blade that cuts through steel, it segmented your life into just two parts: Before and After.  

Before was going home to your wife after a tedious day, resting your head on her lap while she threads her fingers through your hair.

After is knowing those same delicate fingers raked through someone else’s tufts of blonde in throes of passion. 

Before was her telling you she loves you and feeling it to your bones.

After is her telling you she loves you and only hearing a lie.

Split in the middle, you presume you can simply choose to live in one or the other. 

***

“Love’s a fucking bitch.”

Inside your car, you’ve been quiet the whole time, just staring at the photos in Natasha’s phone. You stare at Wanda walking out of the theater, hand-in-hand with a tall, lanky man you don’t recognize. 

“His name is Victor Shade. Goes by ‘Vision’. The only son of a high-profile neurosurgeon on the East Coast.” Natasha tells you, eyeing you closely.  

You brush your thumb against the image of the laughing woman in the picture. She wore your wife’s face and smile, but all you see is a stranger. 

“What are you going to do?” Natasha asks.

Briefly, you consider this could all just be a prank. Maybe Wanda is watching you fall apart right now, giggling in hiding because she got you this time. At least it’s the sort of cruelty you’d fight over for a day or maybe a week, and then laugh about in ten years.  

“Y/N?” Natasha tries again.

You finally look up at her and immediately hate the look of pity on your best friend’s face.  

“I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tonight.” you say, handing back her phone. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should talk to Wanda.”

The laugh that bubbles up your throat is nothing short of deranged. For almost a minute, you laugh into your steering wheel until tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Natasha watches you with a worried expression, her hand hovering over your back hesitantly. She thinks about the beautiful person she met in kindergarten, the girl who gave her own blue crayon so Natasha could color the sky properly while she was left to color hers with a red one. It hurts her to witness the light snuff out of the person who was her own light in her darkest moments. And when your laughter subsides into muffled sobs, she cries with you. 

When you’re done, you systematically wipe the tears and snot off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. Natasha patiently waits for your next move.

“Did you get his address?” you ask with a surprisingly steady voice. 

“Yes, apparently it’s in one of the luxurious apartments near the university.” Natasha says as she texts you the exact address. 

“Good,” you say, then turn your attention to the empty roads ahead of you. 

You lied when you had implied to Natasha that you didn’t know what you’re going to do. 

***

A Victorian style of housing is unheard of in this part of New Jersey, but here you are, standing outside of one. His rental is on the second floor at the end of the street where a sports car is parked carelessly in its spacious garage–an august flex coming from a college kid. Wanda crosses your mind once again as you take in this grandiose lifestyle before you. Was it money that attracted her to him? You never pegged her for a gold-digger, but then again you also didn’t peg her for a cheating whore. You screw your eyes tightly shut at the unpleasant adjectives you now associate with your wife as you lose some of yourself in the process. There’s something frightening and unfamiliar threatening to consume your entire being, and you have no clue what to do with it. 

With a deep breath, you walk to his doorstep and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, you jerk in surprise as the door swings wide open towards you, the lock stile of the wooden panel narrowly missing your forehead.

“Sorry, I keep meaning to get that fixed and it’s easier to push,” A man in his early twenties with yellow blonde hair comes into sight. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. 

You have to tilt your head back slightly in order to meet his cerulean eyes. 

“You’re Vision?” you ask.

“Actually, it’s Victor Shade. But yes, everyone calls me Vision.”

“How old are you?” 

Vision shuffles his feet, uncertain if he should answer your question. It’s rhetorical of course, a question you didn’t mean to actually come out of your mouth. You could guess–but truthfully, you’d rather not now. 

“Who are you?”

“Y/N Maximoff.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, your name not ringing a bell.

“Wanda’s wife.” you supplement domineeringly, as if declaring it would stake your claim on her once and for all. He drops his gaze at the mention of your wife’s name, like a child that has been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter that he’s at least half a foot taller than you are. He isn’t quite a man. Not to you.

“May I–May I come in?” you ask as politely as you could. 

After a second of doubt he smirks, and then says, “Sure.” You can sense the shift in his stance. He knows you’re onto him, and this is a showdown. Like any Alpha male scrambling to be on top of the food chain, he finds you to be an exciting piece of challenge. It makes you wonder if he was looking forward to this moment as much as you were dreading it.

You didn’t notice before that he’s barely covering his naked torso with a peacoat, and you try not to think about what brought on his current state. If by chance, you had just narrowly missed one of your wife’s regular visits.

Once you’re inside his apartment, you immediately scan your surroundings. There are papers and books scattered all over the floor. You can make out a thin trail of smoke coming from an unfinished cigarette in his living room, where the couch is covered by a tarpaulin smeared with ink and acrylic paint. 

On an easel beside it is a painting covered by a dirty towel you assume he’s been working on before being disrupted by your presence. “Can I look?” you point at it. 

“No. Sorry,” he says, before taking the painting from the easel and bringing it to his room. “It’s not done yet. An artist’s rule.”

You nod, and then noticing the only thing that he has organized, you say, “Nice vinyl collection.”

“Thanks.”

You stare at each other for long seconds. It feels ridiculous to expect an apology from him, but it’s something you think you deserved at the minimum. 

“So, tell me. How did you meet my wife?” you ask when it becomes apparent that he doesn’t have any intention to be an active participant in this meeting.

“Art History 101. I’m one of her–”

“Students.” You complete his sentence with a grimace. Somehow that just makes things more fucked up than they already are. Jesus fucking Christ, Wanda, you curse in thought. Yet in a twisted way, it also kind of makes sense now. What they have is the stuff of sexual fantasies–a goddamned kink show is what it is. You’d never guess she’s capable of this. 

“Yeah, and she was really knowledgeable in the subject. Not to mention, a natural teacher. Everybody in the class was awestruck by her.” Vision continues to talk about Wanda as though he’s talking about her to a person who didn’t know her down to the ground. You don’t need to be told how spectacular your wife is. You knew better than anyone. How dare he?

“How’s it going?” You cut him off before he could accidentally trigger something fatal inside of you.

He looks at you, bewildered at the random question. He waits for the punchline that never comes, and then chuckles, “It’s been swell.” 

“This is where you meet?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“And she likes it?” You mean this place that looks like it’s been ransacked ten times over.

“Well, I guess. She never complained.” he says, and then cowers at the dirty look you throw his way at his callous comment.

“Do you stay in all the time or do you go out too?” you ask.

“It depends. We actually like to drive to new places in and out of town. Especially in the first week since she’s never ridden a convertible.”

“She likes that? She likes…aimless drives with no particular destinations?” 

“Oh, yeah. More exciting than being stuck in a routine, I guess.” 

It’s an obvious jab at a lifestyle he thinks you saddled Wanda with. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and you walk closer to him. “Did you know that we’ve been married for five years? And before then together for six?”

That you have a dog. Plans to have kids in the future. Plans to retire in a beachfront property. The rest of your lives together. Does all that mean nothing? 

“I know,” Vision replies, his tone devoid of any sign that he might be sorry for fucking a married woman. “She also told me you asked to move here because of your banking aspirations.”

“My aspirations? You…talk about me?” You manage to blurt out incredulously. Vision shrugs at that, and actually regards you with mild concern when you start blinking rapidly behind your glasses. You can hear your heart hammering in your chest as all the blood in your body suddenly rushes to your head. 

He doesn’t answer “Would you like a drink?” 

“Yeah, why not.” you say and lean against the closest wall to you for support.

“I have water, orange juice…”

“Got anything stronger?” 

“I think I have some vodka left.” Vision mutters and then disappears into the kitchen. You take his absence as an opportunity to sneak into his bedroom. It’s smaller than you’ve imagined. A huge mirror is hanging across the foot of the bed and you instantly know what it’s for. 

Is this where it all happens? Where they happen? Did they watch themselves fuck? Did Wanda watch herself fuck someone who isn’t you and felt guilty about it? 

Did she think about you at all?

You sit on the mattress and stroke its silky sheets with shaking fingers. The bed is unmade, and you know there’s evidence on them if you try to look for it.

A framed painting peeking out from his dresser takes your attention. You walk over to it and pull it out of its hiding. 

Your eyes go round in recognition. It’s the painting Wanda asked you to retrieve in Soho. You turn the painting over and discover a small piece of paper plastered on it.

‘To Vision, the only secret people keep is immortality.’  - W

You crumple the note tightly in your fist. Suddenly, all of it becomes more real than you can envisage: on a Tuesday morning, you’re perched on the exact spot your wife’s been betraying you over and over. You can almost smell Wanda from where you’re sitting–can feel her damp, soft skin, can hear her little sighs as she catches her breath.

You’re not prepared for the overwhelming rage that consumes you next, as you abruptly get up and walk the small distance to the kitchen.

-

You come to thirty seconds later, to broken pieces of porcelain and an unconscious man lying on a puddle of blood on the floor.

Your first instinct is to call Natasha. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Nat,” you say in a rush. “I need your help. I-I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey, hey. Slow down. What happened?” 

“I’m at Vision’s. I did a horrible thing a-and I’m so sorry, Nat, I–”

“Focus, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice is eerily collected. “Is he still alive?”

You scramble to place your index and middle finger on his neck, and let out a sigh of relief once you find what you’re looking for.

“I got a pulse. Should I call 911?”

“Don’t, I’ll handle this. Just grab a towel and wrap it around something cold like frozen vegetables or ice, then apply it gently to the area of the injury.” Natasha says. 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to absorb the instruction. Getting a grasp of the situation has started to feel like an impossible task. 

“Did you hear what I say?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Natasha says. “You’ll be fine, okay? I’m on my way.”

And then she’s gone. And you’re left to deal with the vestiges of your crime. You have no idea how much longer Vision will have a pulse. You try to do what Natasha told you to, but you find yourself unable to move a limb, stuck in the loop of wanting him dead and wanting to do what is right. 

That is, until you hear the familiar tone of a message notification. It came from the rear pocket of Vision’s bloodstained cargo pants. You fall to the floor and dig out his phone. To unlock it, you take his cold hand and press his thumb against its screen. 

There’s a new voice message from a certain ‘W’ in his contacts.

Wanda.

You hit play.

“I hate to do this here,” Wanda’s voice is tremulous and you can easily tell that she’s been crying. “But this is the only way I can trust myself to go through with this decision. This needs to end. I can’t live like this. I’m tired of lying and hurting Y/N. She’s my family. Whether you believe it or not, she’s everything to me. I’m sorry. And I hope,” Wanda’s voice breaks on a choked sob. “I don’t know what I hope. I’m sorry.”

You listen to it again before making the decision to delete the message. You slip the device back into Vision’s pants.

Afterwards, you try to save his life.

***

Five Days After 

You wake up with a start. The clock on the nightstand reads 4:34 A.M. 

The dreams are more vivid now, and they have progressed to you jabbing a kitchen knife into Wanda’s chest as Vision takes her from behind. 

In reality, Wanda is lying half-naked beside you, snoring softly. She looks like the Wanda from Before, but your mind knows better. You want to trace her outline with your eyes and your lips, as you’ve done countless times whenever you’d wake up first. You want to kiss her temple and whisper how you love her even if she can’t hear you. You want, and want, and want. But you know what she’s done and with what little dignity you have left, you don’t fall into the trap of your remaining feelings for her. 

In reality, her ex-lover is in some hospital in New York with his family waiting for him to wake up.

The first two days were the hardest after finding out about your wife’s infidelity. Wanda could read you like an open book, but for some miracle she didn’t see past the calm demeanor you put forth. You still comment nice things about her cooking, hug her goodbye, kiss her good night. 

And then the nightmare starts all over again the minute Wanda leaves the house. Because when she’s near you, you don’t have to wonder where she is or who she’s with. You don’t wonder if she notices the empty seat in her classroom that used to belong to Vision. You don’t wonder if there are another pair of eyes like his, looking at her intrepidly with desire. The longer you carry on with your life as if nothing’s happened, the more you realize how much of your existence the past several months were built on lies. 

Maybe the wife next to you is no longer yours, but how do you reconcile that with the truth that you’re still hers? 

“Y/N?” you hear Wanda speak as you get up from bed. “Where are you going?”

Wand hugs the comforter to her more securely. You want to scoff at her question.

“Going out for a run.” you say after a beat. 

“Want me to come with?”

“No, thanks. Just go back to sleep.”

“Oh,” Wanda glances briefly at the time and then says, “It’s still too dark outside.”

You shrug. “So?”

“Could be dangerous, don’t you think?” 

“It’s Westview,” you repeat the same thing she said to you the first night she came home late without calling. The night in which she probably fucked him for the first time. “What’s the worst that could happen to me?”

“Be careful.” she acquiesces softly. “Do you want anything for breakfast?”

“No.” you say, grabbing your running gear from the dresser. 

Sparky tries to follow after you but you lock him in the bedroom with Wanda, and head out to change in the guest bedroom. 

-

There’s a slight itch at the back of your throat and you’ve stopped sweating just a while ago. Nevertheless, your tired legs refuse to stop their strides as you reach your tenth mile, and end up in a deserted farmhouse where Natasha is waiting for you.

“He still hasn’t woken up,” Natasha announces, handing you a bottle of ice water. “And while I got rid of the paintings, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

You take a swig from it like someone who’s been left in the desert for days, before leaving just enough of the water to pour over your head.

“What do you mean?” you ask after you recover from your run. 

“His family is suspicious. They refuse to believe it’s an accident. You should expect cops to visit your house soon. Don’t panic. I scrubbed that kid’s apartment, they won’t find any traces of you.”

“How many years are we looking at?”

“It’s too early to worry about that. We don’t even know if he’ll ever wake up.”

“If he doesn’t, then I’m a murder, Nat.” you say candidly, like you’ve already accepted the monster that you now see yourself to be. “If he does wake up, then it’s attempted murder. Again, how many years are we looking at?”

“Even if he dies, you’re not going to prison. I promise you.”

“I don’t need you to promise me anything. Just answer the question, Nat.”

“Up to twenty years in the state of New Jersey.”

It figures. Despite it being more than half the amount of years you’ve been alive, you deem it a short punishment for the years you’d be taking from the boy. In twenty years or less, you’d be stepping out of prison to live out the rest of your life, and Vision would still be six feet under and being mourned by his parents. 

You look down at your dirty shoes, and say, “I see.”

Natasha puts her hands on your shoulders and ducks her head, trying to meet your eyes. 

“You’re not going to prison. I won’t allow it.” 

You step back and out of her hold. 

“Now, about that other thing. I already contacted this lawyer who owes me big time. You’ll just have to pay 30% of her regular rate for the entire divorce process.”

You look at your best friend, considering it. You could give Natasha the go signal now to hire this lawyer, but in the end all you say is, “Thanks, Nat. For everything.” as you turn your back on her.

Natasha’s brows snap together. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, knowing that for so many years ‘home’ was a person you felt the safest, a person who you could be with as you are. Wanda didn’t just cheat on you, she left you homeless. Home, in every sense, no longer exists.

“On foot?” 

“Yup.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Just get in the car, I’ll drive you.” 

But you’re already bouncing on your feet and moving in the other direction.

***

The next day, you sleep on your alarm again. It’s the second consecutive week you’re calling in sick late in the morning, and your immediate supervisor at work is understandably worried. He offers you take the rest of the week off, partly fearful for anyone at your branch catching whatever illness he assumes you have. Ironically, broken marriages are arguably endemic in this country. So perhaps, you really should stay away from people for a while. 

The blinds were shut, so that as little light as possible dances through the gaps between them. You are encouraged to stay in bed by the lack of sunlight, but as your mind starts to wake up, something about the gloominess of the room urges you out of bed. It’s a Monday, so that means Wanda should be gone already. If you’re missing work, then you could make use of the time to think about your next course of action.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the sound of Wanda’s voice reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. 

“This will be our little secret, okay? Y/N can’t find out.”

You nearly miss a ladder in your step at the implication of her words, only to see she’s speaking to your dog. 

Wanda is sitting in the living room with Sparky who is thoroughly enjoying the morsel of cheese she’s feeding him with. If this was any other day before, you’d already be walking towards her to give her a morning kiss, and she’d complain that you didn’t brush your teeth long enough. You’d impishly lock her in your arms while you blow puffs of breath on her face, and she’d squirm and fight you off until the both of you are nothing but a blur of two idiots happy and in love. 

“Wanda,” you blink at her in confusion. “Aren’t you late for your morning class?”

You watch Wanda’s eyes light up before she could spot you at the foot of the staircase. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Actually, I quit my job.” Wanda declares, wide-eyed, her green pools swimming in starry fervor that you almost squint.

“Since when?” 

“Since today.” Wanda shrugs, and you can see that she was hoping for a different reaction and not the mild indifference that she’s currently getting from you. 

“Why? Did something happen?” You ask as you pick up Sparky and bring him to the kitchen for a proper meal. You hate to see Wanda give up something she seemed so passionate about. But then you recall her recent affair with a student, and there’s really no telling where that passion was truly directed at. 

“Honestly, I’ve been meaning to for some time.” she muses while playing with her wedding ring. You leave a generous amount of boiled chicken in his food tray, before moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch, conscious to put much distance between you and Wanda.

“For a while it looked like I finally found a worthwhile career that isn’t so ambitious,” Wanda says. You glower at her allusion that her prior dreams were too extravagant to come true. “But in the process, I also lost myself to it. I sort of left you behind, while you always brought me to every milestone of your achievement. And for that, I wanted to apologize.”

It’s the closest thing to a willing confession you’ll ever get from Wanda. Her quitting her position at the university is her way of burying this and moving on. Maybe it would’ve been better if you simply waited for your marriage to fix itself instead of snooping around for her secrets. You wish you weren’t so addicted to the truth. If grace exists in this world, then it comes in the form of ignorance to all of the things that bring so much suffering. 

You’re thinking of something to say, but you’re afraid that the dam inside you will burst if you open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry it took a while for me to really comprehend how I feel about you.”

“We’ve been married for years, Wanda,” you remind her in disbelief. “That’s something you should’ve comprehended fully before you decided to say yes to a life with me.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” she hurries to explain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please, Y/N, don’t get mad. Of course I know how I feel about you. I simply didn’t care to explore the magnitude of it, because I was complacent. And selfish.

“And when it comes down to it, you’re all that matters.” Wanda says and scoots closer to you. Then she takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. Your eyes close in their own accord, sighing at the contact. This might be the only thing that stops you from falling further apart. Even through the worst thing she's ever done to you, you crave to be this close to her. 

Wanda tries to read into your thoughts, and then says, “I know, I know. Acta non verba.”

“What?” you ask distractedly. 

“It’s what you always used to say back in college: deeds, not words. I’m going to show you. I’m going to make you feel how you make me feel.” she smiles at you tearily.

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re to wait it out until the matter with Vision is resolved, and then serve her the divorce papers. She’s not supposed to declare her love for you and for those words to still have a substantial effect on you. 

“Wanda, I–” 

“Here,” Wanda retrieves a box from underneath the pillows and pushes them into your hands. “An advanced anniversary gift.” 

You try to stop your hands from shaking as you stare at the box in your lap. 

"Wanda, there's something we need to talk about."  

"Later, baby. Please, just open it." Wanda says and you try not to cringe at the pet name. 

You're about to pull the lid off when the doorbell rings and Sparky comes rushing to the door, yapping away. 

"I'll get it." You mumble and yank your hand from Wanda's grasp. The haze in your head instantly clears up the moment you’re no longer touching her. 

You open the door to two gentlemen in a dark suit. You remember Natasha’s warning yesterday, not really expecting them to show up this soon. 

"Wanda Maximoff?"

"No, I'm her wife, Y/N. Can I help you?"

The taller one with blonde hair makes the introduction with, "I'm Detective Rogers and this is Detective Barnes.”

You wipe your hands on your pajamas before shaking their hand and inviting them to come in.

“We're here to ask your wife a few questions about Victor Shade." Rogers says. 

You hesitantly glance back to Wanda who suddenly looks so stricken.

"They're here for you." you tell her. 

"Mrs. Maximoff, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rogers walks over to her and introduces himself and Barnes to her. 

He gets on straightaway with the questions. “Where were you last Tuesday afternoon?"

"I was at work, attending a departmental meeting. Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

The two men look at each other. Then the shorter one, Barnes, says, "Your former student, Mr. Shade was involved in a serious accident."

Wanda gawks at their news. "I–I was told he dropped out of school for reasons that were not disclosed to me and the class. I had no idea. My god, that's... That's terrible." 

“Yes, we’re aware. His family wanted the whole thing in the wraps in case it turned out to be more than just an accident.” Rogers explains with 

“Why would they–” Wanda tries to ask but Barnes interrupts her abruptly.

"Were you close?" he asks. 

He watches your wife as you do–closely, and observing every crease in her features that would give her away. But after months of lying, it's evident how she’s become so good at it. 

“Uh, no,” Wanda shakes her head and smiles through her absolute lie. A strange feeling creeps at you at having to see your wife display such confidence in front of authorities. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can share apart from how he performed in my class.”

Rogers and Barnes exchange even-handed looks again. Barnes glances at you briefly, before nodding at his partner to continue.

“Here’s the thing, Ma’m,” Rogers takes out a small notebook from his pocket and flips through it. “We found your name and contact in Mr. Shade’s call history. There are dozens of back and forth calls between you and him. This is actually the reason why we wanted to get in touch with you, because you’re the only one aside from a classmate of his that he’s spoken to for the entire semester. We want to know if he ever confided in you or if you knew someone he might have had a disagreement or altercation with.” 

You can feel Barnes studying you again, but you refuse to meet his gaze, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible with just a tinge of curiosity. 

Wanda remains unfazed and says, “We do communicate over the phone. But again, it’s strictly about his studies.”

“What about his studies?”

“He was having a hard time with his final project. It can be any form of art–a sculpture, a painting or maybe even a video, and they need to emulate their deepest and darkest desires to it. H-He needed my input every now and then.” 

“Sounds quite a challenge,” Rogers mutters as he writes on his pad. “And have you seen his painting?”

“No. I highly discourage them from showing me their works in progress. Why?”

It’s Barnes who answers her this time. “There was no painting found in his apartment.”

“Oh, he must have kept it someplace else then.” Wanda says, more to herself. 

They don’t comment on that. 

“When did you see him last?” Rogers again.

“Monday of last week. He came in late to class. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“May we ask why ‘it doesn’t matter’, Ma’m?”

“I no longer work at Westview Institute.”

“Really,” Rogers lifts an eyebrow, taken aback. “Since when?”

“This morning,” Wanda answers. “Personal reasons. You can talk to the dean for the details if you want.”

Rogers simply nods and scribbles on his pad some more.

“Have you ever been in his neighborhood? Ever been to his apartme–” He badgers on but you interrupt him. 

“I think that’s enough,” you say with authority. “I don’t see what other questions could be relevant to your investigation, but my wife’s told you everything she knows.” 

Barnes tries to protest but Rogers signals to him. 

“Very well. Thank you both for your time.” Rogers says as you usher him and Barnes to the door. 

“Wait!” Wanda yells, chest heaving. They both look over their shoulders, waiting. “Is he… is he okay?”

You catch the knowing smirk on Barnes, but it goes away as soon as Rogers warns him with a look. 

You weren’t expecting she’d ask about him despite their obvious suspicions on what kind of relationship they had. It hurts you in a way that you can’t even begin to describe.

“Last we’ve heard he’s stable. But I’m afraid he’s still in a coma. For all we know he might never wake up. But let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Rogers says, and then with a polite nod, leaves with Barnes in tow.

“I, uh, I forgot that I need to formally file a resignation letter.” Wanda says after you close the door behind them. She frantically grabs her purse, all the while avoiding your gaze. She’s not appropriately dressed to go outside, but you don’t point it out to her as you continue to act the part of the oblivious spouse.

***

Wanda returns home three hours later. A nostalgic smile finds its way to the corners of her mouth, when she spots the note you left for her on the fridge.

Went to the park with Sparky, it says. 

The post-it notes were a long-standing tradition. Sometimes you’d put one on her rearview mirror, something along the lines of “have a great day ahead, I love you” written, and Wanda would stick one on your lunchbox that said “don’t skip on the vegetables”. 

And while she blames herself for your recent aloofness, she was hoping to remediate it on your anniversary. She already booked plane tickets to Hawaii and made reservations at a 5-star hotel. Your boss and probably the entire staff of your branch already knows about it, when she filed a week of vacation leave on your behalf. And then she put all the documentation and details of the trip in the box she gave you this morning. 

She planned for everything, except the part where two cops showed up at her house to talk about Vision. Admittedly, he was another thing that was never a part of her plans. Wanda used to deride people who make mistakes, and when asked to explain, could only say ‘it just happened’. She’s heard it too many times in the past, mostly from her ex-boyfriends. 

It just happened. There’s no better way to put it should you ever find out what she did. She wasn’t lonely or unsatisfied or neglected. The only struggle she could think of about her marriage is thinking about what to have for dinner, because you neither complain nor you ever know what you’re in the mood for. 

In actual sense, her life was perfect. Because of you. Because you work for her happiness. The guilt eats at her everyday. But she knows what she’ll lose if she comes clean. And she can’t afford that. She’d rather confront her demons than risk losing you. She tells herself she can’t put you through this kind of pain.

Wanda pulls herself out of her thoughts. She needs to focus on you. She truly hopes Vision would make it, so he can go on to live his life and she’ll live hers with you. 

Wanda pads through the bathroom to run herself a bath. While waiting for the tub to fill, she pensively walks around the bedroom, noting how the room still smells of you. That’s when she  finds her gift on your work desk, next to your laptop. It’s still wrapped in a bow. Wanda frowns, wondering why you didn’t bother to open it. 

All of a sudden, your laptop makes a sound. Acting on impulse, Wanda unlocks your computer with your password–her birthday–and then opens your email account. 

There’s a new email from Natasha. The subject reads ‘in case you need them’.

An odd, overwhelming feeling consumes her, and without thinking, clicks on the email. 

Wanda waits for the message to load with its attachments and then–

She freezes and her stomach drops. 

***

About four pairs of couples attend your small dinner party that you have planned several weeks ago. Your boss, Scott Lang came with his wife and daughter all the way from New York just so he can, in his own words, ‘taste your wife’s famous Paprikash’. Wanda reminded you that you were hosting, and you had spent the rest of the day shopping for ingredients and red wine. She asked if you should cancel, but you figured an evening with seemingly elementary lives would do some good for the both of you. 

And you’re right. It’s not a nuisance as you thought it’d be when you were roped into it. In view of the recent episodes that no doubt defined the lowest point of your life, it feels nice to experience a little normalcy in your home. Your introverted nature makes you a disastrous host to these events, but Wanda is the opposite–she’s a natural at hospitality. She’d go around and entertain people, exchange gossip, and make them take shots. She’d dance in the middle of the room, with that devil-may-care attitude of hers, attracting people to her like moths to flame. But at the end of the night, she’d go home to you and sleep in your arms, because she’s yours. As you and Wanda grew older, you became a more exclusive sort of couple. But on rare occasions like this one, Wanda would put on the old party hat while you’d watch her be the best part of it.

The only problem right now is that Wanda went away. Physically, she’s in the receiving room with everyone, nodding and smiling at whatever warrants a nod and a smile, but you can tell that her mind is off somewhere faraway. 

“So, Y/N, what’s the first thing you wanna do in Maui aside from stuffing yourself with Poke bowls?” Scott asks. 

“I’m sorry?” You tilt your head at him.

“You know, the…” he starts doing what looks like a hula dance, but you shake her head, still not getting any of it. 

“Wait, what? Wanda hasn’t–” Scott looks at Wanda, in panic. “Oh, god, I didn’t mean to spoil it.”

Wanda’s been keeping to herself the entire night. And she’s been drinking a lot, the contents of her glass never quite reaching the bottom before it gets another refill.

“It’s fine, Scott.” Wanda says.

You look at Wanda expectantly, but she just studies her drink. Increasingly annoyed, Wanda downs the rest of her wine and then says, “I was planning to take us to Hawaii on our anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s pretty awesome.” you say.

Wanda huffs out a mirthless laugh, before standing up and telling everyone she’s going to take a nap.

“Good idea, dear. You’re looking puffy around the eyes.” Emma, another co-worker of yours that Wanda never really warmed up to, quips at her.

Wanda clenches her jaw tightly, but chooses not to engage.

You excuse yourself from the group and follow her out of the room. Wanda feels your presence behind her and spins to look at you for the first time tonight.

“I’m okay. Just go back to your friends.”

“They’re not my friends and you don’t look well.” you say.

“I just need a few minutes to myself,” Wanda offers you a smile, but it’s wobbly. “Please.”

You can’t deny her anything and you can’t stop caring about her. She heads to the stairs before you can utter another word. 

***

After Wanda sees the last of the pairs to the door, she finds you in the bedroom with all the lights off. She can only make out your silhouette–shoulders hunched and perfectly still, while you look out the window to watch the couple trade playful kisses before getting in their car and driving off into the distance. 

From your peripheral view, you watch Wanda approach you slowly, cautiously, like a hunter stalking its prey. It’s easy to guess that she already knows. She has her arms wrapped around herself as a defensive stance, probably afraid of what you might do to her. You nearly let out a laugh at the absurdity of it, because you don’t think you could ever hurt her the way she’s hurt you.

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from where you’re standing. 

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she carries on with the questions despite your refusal to even acknowledge her existence. 

“Y/N?” Her voice is frantic and presumptuously privileged. 

You don’t owe her anything. Especially answers. Anger burns in your chest like a candle–fragile but with the potential to burn an entire field. You imagined the many ways she’d beg you when you discover each other’s skeletons in the closet. You imagined she’d be on her knees, clinging at your ankles, insisting she loves you and that it will never, ever happen again. You imagined you’d kiss her for one last time, right before you’d tell her that you’re done. 

You hate yourself for allowing her to beat you to a confrontation. For coasting through this mess until Wanda takes the mantle of the interrogator herself. She gets to nag you with questions as if after weighing each other’s transgression, yours turned out to be worse than her cheating. 

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No. You tell me what you did.” you whisper menacingly, finally letting go of the restraints you placed yourself in for her sake.

You abruptly turn on your heel in her direction, and then stalk towards her in quick, menacing strides. Wanda cowers, but doesn’t yield. She stands her ground like the courageous heroine of her own movie. 

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me…” Your chin begins to tremble and your vision begins to blur. “...over and over and over.” 

“Y/N, please–” 

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now.” 

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, the weight of her sin materializing in the form of your bared teeth and the vein pulsing in your neck and temple. 

“You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you!” You hear yourself yell, as real as the wetness you feel running down your cheeks. 

“I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!” 

“Oh my god,” Wanda sobs out in anguish, cupping a hand around her mouth. “Y/N…”

There was a time, from long before you were married to her, when loving her broke your heart more than it made it whole. You didn’t think it’d happen again, but even if it did, you thought you’d find a way. You’d always find a way for Wanda.

You were happy together, weren’t you? Before this happened, she never gave any indication that she wasn’t. She made plans with you. Five-year, ten-year plans that meant she wanted to continue being with you. In return, you gave it everything you have and more. You turned the dreams into blueprints, and from blueprints into milestones. 

The arbitrary nature of her infidelity is what shocked you the most. It meant you couldn’t have done anything to prevent this. It wasn’t up to you. Love is a gamble and you’ve lost.

You’re both on the floor now. You, leaning against the side of the bed, and Wanda, hugging her knees to her chest as sobs continue to rack her body. 

When both of you can breathe again, it’s Wanda who breaks the silence. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

As much as you need to hear it, an apology now is just a drop in the ocean. Wanda can’t unfuck Vision. You can’t un-crack his skull. 

A thought suddenly occurs in your muddled brain.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask.

“No.”

“He must be really special then.”

She shakes her head furiously, denying it.

Against your better judgment, you ask the one thing that’s been plaguing you since you learned of her lover’s name. “Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda mumbles without a second thought. “I thought I did, but no.” 

She didn’t love him. But it still kills you to know that it definitely crossed her mind that she might’ve felt something for someone else.

“Did you…” You stare intently at the ceiling, willing gravity to pull back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “...ever love me?”

“I love you,” Wanda says, her voice low and trembling, though she dares to look you in the eye. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You know,” You wince at the way your voice falters. You’re so tired and dehydrated, and your head is starting to hurt. Your lips quirk up in a bitter half-smile. “You have such a lovely way of showing it.” 

Wanda lets her legs slide straight in front of her as she openly weeps into her hands. Under different circumstances you’d be out the door right this second, getting all her favorite snacks and a bouquet of flowers. You have loved her for so long. 

“You should’ve just killed me. I don’t see any difference. At least there’s no pain in being dead.” you say after some time.

“Baby, don’t say that.” Wanda hiccups, struggling to control the spasms in her chest. 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.”

Wanda looks away, like she’s been slapped.

“You can stay,” you say, and Wanda looks up at you with hope. “In this house. For as long as you want. But I’m leaving.”

“No. Don’t leave.”

But you’re already pulling your wedding ring off your finger even as she rushes to kiss you roughly. Wanda pours everything in this one kiss. She has played all the cards she’s dealt with, and this is her final, desperate move. 

As for you, you take it for what it is: a goodbye. It’s messy and salty, and everything anyone could ever hope for in a last kiss. When it’s over, Wanda ducks her head under your chin. She finds purchase in the area just above your heart, trying to commit to memory the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

You don’t have it in you to push her away, but you take the hand of hers that’s still cupping your face, and put the cold metal that once symbolized your commitment to her, in her fevered palm. And then very gently, you force her fingers to close around it. Albeit the numbness in your legs, you manage to push yourself up into a standing position and out of Wanda’s grasp. 

“This isn’t over. It can’t be over.” you hear Wanda speak, but you’re not sure if it’s to you or to herself. 

Out in the hallway, you examine the finger where your wedding ring had been. It’s going to take some time before its mark on your skin completely fades away.

***

A Week Later

“He’s awake.” 

Natasha sits across from you in the diner. She’s back in town to pick you up and drive you back to her condo in Manhattan, where you will be staying for a while until you find your own place. 

You swallow and take a breath, poking at your scrambled eggs. 

She’s wary of you–this zombie-esque version of you. And it’s not only apparent in your behavior, the gauntness of your cheek is more noticeable, and your clavicle more protruded. You look like you’ve aged ten years overnight in as little as two weeks. 

“He doesn’t remember anything.” she adds and this gets your attention.

“How convenient.” you say.

“Look, Y/N. You don’t need to act tough around me. Because I can see right through every mask you have on. You want me to prove it? Let me prove it.”

“Nat, just–”

“You’re more relieved to know that he’s woken up, than him not remembering anything. You’re compassionate to a fault. There can’t be a purer soul than yours.”

Your best friend’s impassioned speech puts a small but genuine smile on your face. Natasha does a little victory dance with imaginary pompoms, and the laughter comes easily to you. 

“I know I have no right to say this, nor do I really understand what you’re feeling right now. But, Y/N, someone will come along and take every broken piece of you back together. They will love you so hard, you’re gonna have to actually beg them to ease off.”

You humor her. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

In all honesty, it’s hard to think about the far-off future without the stinging reminder that Wanda is not in it. But as you sit idly in diner for a very late brunch–and might as well call it lunch–you realize that you’re not left entirely empty-handed. You have Natasha. You have the rest of your friends back in New York, although you haven’t talked to them much lately. You have your career that is getting a fresh start at a new company. Wanda has gotten custody of Sparky. As much as you love him, you have a feeling that she needs him more than you do. 

The point is, you’ve already seen the bottom of the sea, and it’s time to break the surface.

“As much as I hate your wife…soon-to-be ex-wife… or whatever,” Natasha shoots daggers at someone behind you. “She’s here to talk to you.” 

“Did she put you up to this?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“She called me to collect a favor, and this is the best bargain we managed. She’s not going to contact me anymore after this.” Natasha says, and then she gets up from her seat and takes her plate of bacon and eggs to enjoy at another table. 

You hear tentative footsteps approach the booth and brace yourself to face Wanda. 

Much to your chagrin, she looks as immaculate as ever in her parka over a simple white v-neck and high-waisted jeans, her glossy red hair cascading in perfect waves past her chest. 

“Hey,” she says and slides into the booth with you.

You take a huge bite of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.” 

“Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules.”

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. 

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” Wanda pauses to catch your eye, and you see no traces of sharpness in them. Her green eyes are bright with determination. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

You look at her from beneath your dark lashes. “Okay.” 

Wanda swallows nervously and interlocks her fingers on top of the table. You can’t explain it, but your eyes automatically search for the wedding band in her left hand.

It’s still there. 

“I, uh, got something for you.” she says. 

“No, thanks.” you say.

“But it’s yours.” she argues softly, digging for something in her jacket. You watch her pull out a ring box and place it in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“Your wedding ring.” She says matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t want–” 

“I don’t care. I’m giving it back to you, and I’m keeping mine. You can do whatever you like with it. But I can’t keep it for you.”

You consider it momentarily, what she’s asking of you. In hindsight, it makes sense that she wouldn’t want to hold onto the residual love you have for her that the ring represents. 

“Fine.” You reach for the small box and Wanda heaves a sigh. 

“So, you have your ring back, and I’ll sign the divorce papers when they’re ready.” Wanda recites mechanically, her voice thinning towards the end of her sentence, as if she’s not at all prepared for what she needs to say to you next. 

“Then, I’ll come for you.”

You almost spit out your coffee. Some of it actually dribbles past your lips and you quickly grab a napkin to wipe your mouth. She tenderly smiles at your little accident, finding your clumsiness endearing. 

You gape at her, unable to think of a response.

“I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.” Wanda’s smile turns into a sad amusement at herself. 

“I don’t hate you, Wanda,” It’s the truth. Even though anger is the only emotion you can process most days, you’ve only ever hated the way she makes you feel. 

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

You can tell she has more to say and you wait. 

“I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.” Wanda says, giving you a long, level look. 

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you. I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.” 

“Wands,” The nickname rolls off your tongue before you can stop it. “You can’t torture yourself like this.” 

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” 

You’re my dream, Wanda had written in her vows. You remember it, clear as day.

Wanda gets up to leave. “I’ll see you soon.” 

As soon as Wanda exits to her car, Natasha returns to the booth with a strawberry milkshake in hand. 

“Is it over?” she asks offhandedly, referring to your conversation with Wanda.

You hesitate, then look at her with an unreadable expression on your face. You give her the only answer that feels right to you:

“For now.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss #my writing #category: angst #natasha romanoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen

[darkness-eyes123]

FIC: Trust in Us

Summary: You find out that Billy’s put a private security detail on you when your security ends up reporting to him that you’ve been meeting with someone else.

This fic gives a little reference to my other fic Dreams and Reality. I low key have become super obsessed with writing Billy and writing Confrontational conversations LOL. I hope you guys are enjoying it, I’m new to all this so thank you so much for all your likes, reblogs and responses. It means a lot.

(Not my Gif)

“We’re not going to talk about it.”

“Yeah fucking right.” Billy snapped back. He slammed your apartment door shut, following close behind you.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You replied ignoring him toeing off your shoes, dumping your keys in the bowl beside the door. You were 5 minutes away from packing a bag and telling him to fuck off for a few days.

He just managed to piss you off in every fucking way possible and you were damned if you were going to let him win. Maybe this would teach him a lesson. Maybe you’d make him suffer in silence because if anything, you knew that Billy needed some sort of reassurance right now, and at the moment you didn’t give a shit about giving him that.

His deranged mind could go ahead and make up all the shit in the world, you could care less about it after what he did.

“You’re going to fucking explain right now.” He glowered at you like some sort of animal, coming closer.

You patted his chest seeming calm but internally enraged. “No. I don’t think I will.” You gave him your fakest smile. You were going to pack that bag, because if anything his obnoxious questioning was about to drive you off the rails.

You turned to walk away, but really you should’ve known better then that. You should’ve known that this wasn’t going to slide with Billy fucking Russo. You thought maybe his ass would realize that he was in the wrong and that he’d leave you the hell alone to cool off, but of course that wasn’t Billy’s style, especially when he felt threatened that what was his was being taken away.

Whatever rational thinking he had would always go down the drain and all that goes through his mind is to be a territorial prick. Normally you didn’t let it affect you as much, you knew who Billy was when you began your relationship. You even knew the backstory of it all. He was possessive and absolutely did not like to share. Jealousy and Russo just went hand in hand.

Normally you handled it well. It obviously drove you insane sometimes, but a jealous Billy was also one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed, you probably needed a therapist with how much it turned you on. It typically would result in the best sex of your life—but this time— this time it was different.

Billy grabbed your arm and turned you around, your front pressed against the wall, your back against him. You had to fight your body’s reaction to him pressed tightly against you in all the right ways. You could feel every bit of him and right now you wanted to curse yourself, because all you wanted to do was drag your body against him like some fucking cat.

You could feel his hardness from behind you as one hand held you tight against him trapping you further into the wall, and the other wrapped around your neck. He pulled your head closer to his, grinding on you once before he bent to whisper in your ear, his voice furious in your reluctance to give him what he wanted.

“Who the fuck was he?” He wanted to fuck the answer out of you. To bury himself so deep inside so that he was the only man you’d ever remember, the only man you’d ever think about.

“My real boyfriend.” You told him sarcastically knowingly riling him up. You could feel the jealousy and anger seep out of him in waves. You pushed against him to release you, but he held you tight burrowing his face in your neck—inhaling—before turning you around roughly to face him.

Oh shit. His eyes were dark, almost fully black and he was completely and absolutely enraged. His body was filled with tension and he glared at you pulling your body impossibly closer. He twisted your hair in his hands, grasping your head, holding you in place, “Don’t fucking play with me Y/N,” he growled out.

“Fuck you.” You growled right back, it might not have been the smartest thing to antagonize Billy right now but you didn’t care if he was angry as hell, he violated your trust.

Despite how seriously infuriated he was, he had the fucking nerve to smirk to you, “Oh you will. And you’ll only ever be fucking me.” His hand travelled up the length of your body knowingly—like only he had the right too—and of course your body betrayed you as it arched for his touch, searching for him.

His stupid smirk triggered you and managed to piss you off even more and your sole purpose in this moment was to wipe it off. “Well I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

Oh fuck.

The words were out of your mouth and you could sense the instant shift. You knew you were pushing him to his limit right now, but he’s never made you so mad before.

His head snapped back to tower over you, his smirk wiped away instantly and instead he turned into something feral. “You’re going to fucking regret that.” His eyes glaring at you, looking like he was going to bloody murder, and you knew that he was thinking of exactly what you were saying. He was thinking of you with some other guy. Your words made there way slowly through him, poisoning him, until it consumed him.

His hands grew tighter on you and he lifted you up and crashed his lips onto yours into what can only be described as the most dominant kiss of your life. Your tongues tangled in anger, fighting for dominance, and you didn’t know why the hell you were giving into this— the possessiveness that screamed out of him in that moment drove you both wild. His hands traced your body reclaiming it, his mouth travelled from your mouth down to your neck as you panted. You moaned so loudly when he found that spot on your neck and he bit down hard on it, sucking on it leaving his mark, as your hips bucked into him. “You are fucking mine.” He wanted to mark you everywhere.

His hand made its way back to the side of your head and he pulled you forward to look at him, “No one is ever going to fucking touch you but me.” His other hand grazed the front of you under your dress. You groaned loudly, his words making you clench for him.

“I’ll kill anyone who lays a finger on you.” He watched you, his eyes filled with lust and possession as he touched you—your face filled with pleasure for him—and him alone.

He was going to take you and make you fucking beg for him.

“Do you understand?” You were just about to nod your head like the good fucking girl he wanted you to be—but his tone—the arrogance in his tone passed through you and everything came crashing down again.

You shook your head “No!”

It was like cold water was thrown onto you and you bucked wildly against him—freeing yourself from his grasp. Your legs moved you far way from him, your breathing shallow and your heart racing.

You needed distance.

Distance was good. Distance meant you could think clearly and not do exactly what your body and your heart wanted, which was to let him finish exactly what he intended.

And Billy.

Billy didn’t like that. His hands fisted and clenched tightly in attempt to control himself from reaching out for you again. His patience and control was thrown out the window. He wasn’t going to let you get away. You belonged with him and he didn’t give a shit about what problems arise, you were going to deal with it and move on.

“Y/n,” he condescendingly called out. It irked you to no end.

“You broke my trust, Billy.” You whispered. You couldn’t believe him. “Not only did you break my trust but then you practically accuse me of cheating on you.”

He stalked forward slowly, like an animal targeting his prey. “I broke your trust?” He asked disbelievingly.

“Yes! Yes you fucking broke my trust!” You yelled, finally losing it. Was he this fucking obtuse? “Are we being serious right now? You had one of your men tracking me for I don’t know how fucking long, and the only way I found out was because he told you I was out with another guy.”

“I didn’t break shit. I had one of my men watch you for protection.” He growled out, coming closer as you backed away. “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn I would have told you but you’re so hellbent on thinking that nothing will ever touch you.”

You looked at him in disbelief, too angry to be hurt by his words. “I don’t need a bodyguard Billy, you’re wasting someone’s time on me. And that’s beside the point, you could have told me.”

“I need you safe dammit!” He snapped back sharply, his last vivid dream about you was not something he took lightly, “I needed to make sure that you were safe, because some days I worry…..some fucking days I feel…I feel that the deep shit that I was in will somehow catch up to me, and that you’ll be taken away from me.”

“Billy—“ you protested. His fear of something happening to you intensified since his dream, but you wouldn’t let him use his fear against you. He couldn’t treat you like this in the name of ‘fear’. He was so worked up, you wanted to console him—but you couldn’t.

Not yet.

“No. You’re the only good thing that’s come out of anything and I’ll fucking die before that shit comes back to bite.” He followed you every step you took. Like a moth to a flame, it was never ending.

Your chest ached. You were more then aware of his shit with Rawlins and of all the shit he did to get out of it. You got were his fears came from but you pushed it away for the hurt you still felt at everything that he did.

Just because he felt a certain way didn’t mean he could just do things without telling you. You were supposed to be a unit.

A fucking team.

“Fine Billy, I get it. I get that to a certain level, but that still doesn’t mean it’s okay. You could’ve told me and I would’ve gotten it.” You sighed tired of this. “What I don’t get though is my privacy being breached. What I don’t get is why who I’m with is being reported about?”

He swallowed tightly, the bitterness in his tone and expression not lost on you. “I didn’t fucking ask for that. I just asked for a fucking update, and he told me that you were out to lunch again with some guy in his 30s, and then— then I asked.” His eyes were filled with betrayal.

His heart clenched in hurt and anger. He was yours in every single possible way and you were fucking his. But were you done with him? Did you not want to rip the world apart at the thought of him possibly getting together with another woman, like you just did with this—this other piece of shit? Did you not burn for him the same way he burned for you? Did you finally realize that he was so fucked up and that you deserved someone normal? Someone fucking better. He hated these thoughts.

“Your security told me it’s been multiple times in the past 2 weeks,” he continued, the thought of you with this guy plaguing his mind it drove him crazy. “You failed to fucking mention him to me before, especially since it hasn’t been a one time meeting— so I’m going to ask again— Who. Was. He?” He spat out like the asshole he really was.

“Oh my god Billy, he was a fucking friend! A friend that reached out to me because he was in town for a funeral.” You snapped at him finished with this game. “You forget that I had a life before you and that unlike you, I didn’t sleep with most of my friends of the opposite sex.”

You backed yourself into a wall again and he trapped you, keeping you there. He wouldn’t let you run from him again. He ignored your jab at him and reached for you, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoffed, “I didn’t tell you because we’ve been busy, it slipped my mind and I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal. And of course you didn’t think to ask me—just like the security guard— you just walk in with stupid assumptions. After everything, how could you honestly think I’d cheat on you?” You were so freaking angry and hurt. He was a insane jerk sometimes but you loved him; And after all this time, through thick and thin, did he really think that you would do that to him?

He reached for you and you finally let him, your arms still hugging your chest. He held your face in his hands, your foreheads inches away. The guilt finally made its way present and he was ashamed for making you feel like this. “Never. It’s— I can’t deal with losing you. And I can’t help but wonder if or when you’ll realize that you deserve fucking better then me.” He spoke loathing, his eyes clenched shut. His jealousy and his own childhood insecurities playing it’s part. Nobody loved him enough to stay and you were too good to be true.

“Billy we can’t do this if we don’t trust each other. Okay?” His hands moved to clutch your lower back pulling you to him. Yours caressed his face. He kissed the inside of your hand in agreement. “And the same goes for the protection detail. I’m not in the ballpark yet about it and we can talk about it more, but you need to trust me to tell me these things or else this isn’t going to work.”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you.” He whispered as if the world couldn’t hear him be soft. And only you could. “You’re my world and I’m sorry for fucking it up over and over again.” Apologies were never Billy’s strong suit and he could probably count on one hand how many times he’d done it. Even with you, he’d never apologize for going out of his way to keep you safe but he had wronged you— and It was with you, only you, he’d only ever felt the need to say it.

You nodded feeling that weight off your chest, Billy’s hands clutched your sides tight as if he were holding on for dear life. “Billy. I’m yours. Nothing— nothing is going to change that.” He craved that reassurance, craved for you to be only his and you’d give him that.

You pressed your lips to his lightly and his one hand cupped the back of your neck pulling you in, devouring you like it was his last time. His tongue thrusted into your mouth, moving desperately against yours. “I’m yours.” You moaned against his mouth. He grabbed your ass and hoisted you up. His eyes dark with lust and fixed on you as if deciding if he should devour you or torture you for before.

Your words from earlier had never left him and he was going to make you pay for it. He needed everything and more from you, He needed to fuck you and claim you as his again and again. He needed to hear you scream his name over and over again. He needed those words to be fucking taken back, and to make you needy and breathless and desperate for him and him alone.

“Again.” He growled his fingers teasing you, his mouth fixed on marking you all over your chest. You were in for a long fucking night.

“I’m yours.” You groaned as your hands pulled on his hair pulling his mouth closer to you.

“You’re mine.” He growled over and over again. “Only mine.” He was going to make you never forget it.

#billy russo #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo x reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader

[jenoismydad]

For Your Eyes Only

its been a while since i’ve written nomin smut. this one took quite a while to write and its kinda crack but i still hope you all enjoy it. smut begins at the ♥️ incase you don’t want to read the plot.

Pairing: Jeno x Reader x Jaemin

Genre: Smut; Threesome, Fem Receiving, Male Receiving, Unprotected Sex

Words: 3.8k+

Synopsis: You take a naughty picture for Jaemin without realising that you accidentally sent it to Jeno instead. One wrong text leads to a night of immeasurable pleasure ;)

Warnings: None

»»————-　➴　————-««

It was 3 a.m. and you were unbelievably horny. After unsuccessfully attempting to satisfy yourself, you gave up and decided to call your neighbour cum fuck buddy, Jaemin, hoping that he was still awake and that he’d be kind enough to come over and help you out with your ‘problem’. Luckily for you, he picked up, and when you presented your case, he asked you to give him 20 minutes, during which time he’d finish playing a video game, shower and then arrive to tend to your needs. Still, since the offer was better than nothing, you agreed and decided to wait. However 20 minutes later, your doorbell failed to ring. So, you called him once again to check up and make sure that the offer was still standing. This time, Jaemin claimed that he’d only need 10 more minutes, but if you were to give him an incentive of sorts, then he’d consider hurrying up. He also ridiculously concluded by adding that doing so would be a win-win situation for you both as he’d get to see your boobs due to which you’d get to be railed by him sooner.

Since it all made perfect sense, there was no reason for you to say no to this newly introduced

proposition. All you had to do was click a picture and send it to him. That would be the end of that, and you’d both get what you wanted. However, you knew very well how Jaemin’s friends liked to snoop around in his phone. It so happened that you’d once sent Jaemin a rather proactive text, leading from which was an hour long conversation about all the dirty things you both wanted to do to each other. Later on, much to your horror, Jaemin informed you that it wasn’t actually him who you were sexting but instead, one of his buddies who’d borrowed his phone to ‘play some games’. It was amusing for Jaemin but the incident had scarred you beyond belief. The embarrassment you felt afterwards was immeasurable and so, you’d been careful with the way you made your booty calls ever since.

To put it straight, you were reluctant to send Jaemin a few nudes in the fear that someone who wasn’t him might come across them. But after giving it quite a lot of thought, you realised that you were just too horny and impatient to keep dragging this out. If you wanted to get relieved so that you could soundly fall asleep, you needed to get Jaemin down here as soon as possible.

So, without so much as a thought, you opened your camera, took the raunchiest set of pictures that you possibly could, and sent them to him with a reminder that they were for his eyes only. After that you were left to stare at your phone screen, waiting to see if he’d gotten his ‘incentive’ or not. It took him a few seconds, but soon enough, he saw them. You didn’t know if he was at a loss of words or if he was just trying to send you a cheesy pick up line that he couldn’t quite seem to remember. He kept ‘typing’ but you never got a response and it was beginning to make you feel antsy. Just before you were about to call him again, you heard a knock at your door.

Feeling a sense of relief, you straightened yourself up a bit before opening the door. “Took you long enough-”, you muttered distastefully, pausing when you surprisingly met eyes with someone who was clearly not Jaemin.

“Jeno? What are you doing here?” you asked, extremely confused as to why your next door neighbour was at your house at such a late hour. He seemed conflicted, dazed almost, knuckles having turned white because of how tightly he was holding his phone. Something was wrong. You noticed this and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay? Do you wanna come inside?”

He shook his head, nodding soon after, seemingly in a dilemma of sorts. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter your home. “Jeno what’s going on?” you asked once again, starting to feel concerned for your friend. He was usually always so calm and composed so his current demeanour seriously caught you off guard. For some reason he was fighting for words.

“Umm, I don’t know how to say this but, did you mean to send those pictures to me?” he spoke quickly, avoiding your gaze immediately after. Now you were at a loss of words. You weren’t stupid and you were pretty sure you knew what he was talking about. It didn’t take you too long to put two and two together. To further support your doubts, his deranged state plus apparent timidness suggested that he’d seen something horrific, something that he hadn’t intended to see and something that you were now realising must have been sent to the wrong person. As soon as it occurred to you, you checked your messages, feeling absolutely dreadful when your suspicions were confirmed. You’d sent your nudes to him instead of Jaemin. How, you did not know. What were you supposed to do now? Apologise? Even if you did, and even if he forgave you, you couldn’t live with the fact that he’d seen you naked, or semi naked or whatever. Jeno wasn’t someone who you could ignore that easily. He lived right next to you, you always ran into him in the elevator and down the halls and he was your go to 5 minute grocery store from whom you’d borrow eggs or laundry detergent, whatever it was that you’d run out of. He was very crucial and unavoidable so now, what were you going to do about this?

“Fuck, I-, I’m so sorry you had to see those. I mean, I wasn’t trying to send them to you.”, you began. “I don’t even send nudes. Like this was the one time, the one time that I did and look what happened.” Chuckling nervously you continued, “I guess you could say that I was super desperate, I mean-”

“Yeah, that’s not an understatement.”, Jeno mumbled, tilting his head with a subtle smirk. You stumbled over your words as you registered what he said. Pausing, you pursed your lips and uncertainly faced him. “What do you mean by that?” Jeno looked up at you and scratched his neck. “I could hear everything.”, he admitted, somewhat embarrassedly. “These walls are incredibly thin. You’d be surprised at how much detail they fail to spare.”

Your eyes widened, face turning a deep shade of red. He’d heard you masturbating. How humiliating. If the door wasn’t closed, you would’ve bolted. The uncanny amount of awkwardness that had settled over you both felt like it could crush you at this point. Why did he feel the need to tell you that? If you were in his place then you would’ve just kept it to yourself, no matter how awkward it would make you feel around him. It was enough that he’d seen your nudes, but this, this was practically the cherry on top.

But then, Jeno proceeded to say something so unfathomable, so completely unlikely of him, that it made you question whether the man standing before you was actually the same cheerful person that you’d been living beside for the past few years or if it was just another overly confident horny teenager on omegle.

“I could help out if you’d like.”

You wanted to scream, to run and hide somewhere where he could never trace you because how the fuck were you supposed to respond to that. So straightforward, so suggestive and so utterly shameless. It felt like he’d put you on the spot. If you said no then it would make things manifold awkward and you didn’t know if you could afford to bear that. If things ever became like that then the only choice you’d have left is to move out, which you once again, were beyond the means of affording. But that in no way meant that you were obligated to agree to his suggestion. So now the question arises...why on earth did you?

Though you’d claim that you’d never thought of Jeno like that, it was common knowledge that you had, at least once in your life, indeed wondered what he was all about. Whenever he wasn’t smiling he looked like a walking full course meal. Jeno was attractive, you would never deny that. And that thing he’d said about the walls being thin. Well let’s just say that you’d lived through a few endless nights of wondering what the heck that man was doing to drunken women in his dingy ass bed that had them screaming like that. It was enticing, it was exciting, and the more you thought about it, the more curious you were to find out. Other than that you felt like it would make things less awkward. He’d seen you partially naked. But if he saw you completely naked and you saw him completely naked then you felt like that would balance things out. Were you stupid? Yes you were. Were you insanely horny? Surprisingly, despite everything that had just happened, yes, you still were.

♥️

“Turn the lights off.”, you instructed with a smirk, pointing to the switch behind Jeno. He did as you said, chuckling when you pulled him towards your couch excitedly. Pushing him down, you quickly got on top of his lap and crashed your lips onto his. Jeno wrapped his arms around your waist, sighing into the kiss. Wanting to waste no time, your tongue brushed over his bottom lip. Jeno parted his lips, letting your tongue run over his. He hastily pushed your shirt up, messily pulling it off over your head. He then flipped you over, laying you down on the couch as he hovered over your body. “Can I just go for it?” he asked, grinning when you nodded. With your permission, Jeno shoved his hand into your pants and past your panties until his fingers ghosted over your clit. You gasped, anticipating his next move. Jeno chuckled and began rubbing soft circles into your clit. You let out a shaky breath, moaning when he dipped his head down to place wet kisses on the skin of your neck. For a second there, you got so lost in the feeling of his calloused fingers on your clit that you failed to notice the budding tension in your abdomen. It wasn’t until you came undone all over his fingers, that it occurred to you. Jeno didn’t stop however. He continued rubbing your clit, sending you into a frenzy over sensitivity. You mewled, hugging his body tightly. Your thighs snapped shut, nails digging into his shoulders as the sensation started becoming too much for you to take. “Take your pants off.”, Jeno spoke quickly, sitting up to do the same. You tugged everything off, laying back down on the couch, giving Jeno quite the sight of your glistening core. Once his cock was free of its restraints, he gave it a few hard pumps before lining his tip up against your slit. Your hips twitched at the ticklish feeling. You spread your legs wider, waiting for him to push into you. Leaning over your body, Jeno’s cock soon filled you up. The overstimulation had your pussy burning. But you didn’t mind anymore. Something about the way his girth pushed against your tight walls made you believe that you were in for something amazing. Holding himself up on his palms, Jeno began thrusting into your. Considering how wet you were, he didn’t have to build up his pace. You closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of his cock fucking you. It felt so good. It was exactly what you’d been craving for. Jeno maintained his fulfillung thrusts, not too slow but not too fast. You swore if he kept fucking you like that it would be enough to bring you to a second orgasm. But you were impatient and the desire to feel those euphoric waves crash down on you again was more demanding than you’d like for it to be. And so your hand sneakily came down to your clit, proceeding to add to the pleasure that you were already feeling. Sweat trickled down Jeno’s forehead as he chased his own high. Both of you were so consumed in your own pleasure that no one heard the lock jiggling. Your loud moans masked the sounds of someone entering your home. It wasn’t until the imposter actually said something, that you realised someone was watching you.

“How could you guys get started without me?”, an all too familiar voice whined.

Jeno froze in place. You on the other hand, were so close to cumming, that even though you’d seen Jaemin standing there, your fingers never ceased their movements. And as soon as your eyes locked with Jaemin��s, your orgasm hit. You’d never been in such a intimately awkward situation before. On one hand your body was springing with thrilling pleasure while on the other hand, you were flabergastedly staring at your fuck buddy. Talk about timing.

“Jaemin what are you doing here!”, you asked, not quite understanding how he’d gotten into your home. He furrowed his brows, seemingly offended. “Umm, hadn’t you asked me to help you out with your problem?” Still buried balls deep in you, Jeno looked between you and Jaemin, more confused than he’d ever been in his entire life. How could you have forgotten about Jaemin? Of course he was going to come over. But still, who let him in? “How did you manage to get inside?”, you asked, as you moved to sit up. Jaemin raised his hands in defence. “The door wasn’t locked. That’s not my fault. It’s yours.” He pointed at you accusingly. You rolled your eyes. “Still, you’re supposed to knock. You can’t just barge in-” “

Oh please.”, he interrupted, holding a hand up to stop you. “It’s not like you’re doing something I’ve never seen before.”

“When have you ever walked in on me having sex?”

Jaemin gave your question some thought. “Hmm? Now that I think of it, never actually.” He smiled bashfully, eyes darting over to Jeno. Jaemin clapped his hands. “This guy however, I’ve walked in on him countless times. Surprised that he actually stopped though. Usually he just ignores me and continues.”, Jaemin revealed. Jeno rolled his eyes and looked over to you. “Bitch always cock blocks me. But whatever, if he’s here now I think I can leave.”

Before he could pull out of you however, you grabbed his hand, halting him. “You didn’t even finish yet. Please don’t tell me you’re going to jerk off.” Jaemin nodded at your words. “Come on Jenny. Don’t disappoint yourself. Cum, and then you can leave. You’ve gotta finish what you’ve started.”, he added. Jeno looked at Jaemin. “What are you going to do then? Stand there and watch?”

Jaemin looked at you. “Well I could join if you’d like.” Jeno turned to you as well. “I’m fine with it. Are you?”

You looked between both boys. “Have you guys done this before?” You’d asked because it seemed like they had.

Jaemin nodded, walking over to you both. “This one time, Jeno got super duper day drunk and he called some girl over and then I came downstairs because I needed some eggs and they were doing it on the couch, just like you two were right now, and the girl pointed to me and was like ‘can he join us’ and so I joined them and then we had sex and it was really good and yeah.”

That was only one time though and Jeno was drunk. Something about the way Jeno had agreed to this made you believe that this was something that had probably happened more than once. As if he’d heard all the questions in your mind, Jeno continued Jaemin’s narration. “Jaemin was having a party at his place once. I hooked up with someone in his room and he walked in on us. Dude just joined in like it was nothing and honestly, it was super fun.”

“And were you drunk then?”

Jeno shook his head. “Surprisingly, I was not.”

That sure said a lot. Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. You knew Jaemin was a good fuck and Jeno was proving to be right up to the mark. You’d never done something like this before but after everything that you’d been through tonight, what was the point in feeling embarrassed. You were ready to let go and lose yourself.

Jaemin undressed himself, and made you lay back down again. “Don’t gag on me y/n. I know you can take it.” You gulped, equally nervous and excited. Jeno pulled out of you, pumping his cock a few times before turning you onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and pressed his tip into your slit. “Can we have a countdown Jenni?”, Jaemin asked, holding his own cock to your mouth. “No. And stop calling me Jenni, it’s weird.” Jaemin pouted but nonetheless, tapped your lips. “Open up y/n.”, he cooed. Jeno pushed into you from behind and resumed fucking you, the same way he had been before.

You spit on Jaemin’s cock, waiting for him to slick his length up before opening wide for him. Once he pushed his cock into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his girth, swirling your tongue over his tip, just the way you knew he liked it. Jaemin smiled, holding your hair out of your face. With Jeno’s forceful thrusts, you didn’t need to bob your head over Jaemin’s cock. “Jenni, have you ever gotten your dick sucked by y/n? If you haven’t, I highly recommend it. Y/n ensures 100% customer satisfaction.”, Jaemin spoked happily. You snickered, sending a rumble of vibrations through his cock. Jaemin shivered and tapped your nose. “That tickled.”

Jeno scoffed at Jaemin’s childish tone. “Is he always like this?”, Jeno asked you. You gave him a thumbs up and pulled Jaemin’s cock out of your mouth. “He’s only serious when he’s about to cum.” Jaemin gasped and grabbed your jaw. “Who said you could stop missy?”

Jaemin shoved his cock back into your mouth and held your head down. Your nose was mere inches from his abdomen. You grabbed onto his hand, a sign that you’d gotten the message. You wouldn’t stop until he finished now. Jeno snickered and upped his pace. He fucked you nice and hard. Jaemin’s cock muffled your moans. Every time Jeno thrusted into you from behind, Jaemin pushed his hips into your mouth from the front.

“So Jenni.”, Jaemin started, clearly not close to his high. “How’d you end up here?”

Jeno grunted as he fucked you. “She sent me something that was meant for you. I came here to ask her about it. We ended up fucking.”, he explained, never losing his pace once. Jaemin nodded and raised a brow. “Wonder what she sent you. I never get nudes.”

“It was just a picture of her half naked. Her tits looked real nice though.”, Jeno shared. “Oh. If I’d have gotten them instead, I would’ve been down here sooner.”, Jaemin admitted. You weren’t too sure about that. You knew Jaemin would’ve made you reveal more than you originally had. “Can you send me the pictures later y/n? I’d really love to see them.”

You gently bit Jaemin’s cock, making him wince. He also effectively shut up and continued to remain quite thereafter. The sound of skin hitting skin soon filled the room. Jeno fucked you faster. He was close. You clenched your walls around his shaft, hoping that it would help him reach his high quicker. “Fuck. Do that again.”, he muttered, fingers digging into your ass. Pushing your hips backward, you clenched your walls around his cock again. Jeno groaned in satisfaction, ramming his hips into you one last time before filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. You hummed against Jaemin’s cock as Jeno emptied himself into you and eventually pulled out. Seeing that your pussy was now unoccupied, Jaemin pulled out of your mouth and quickly sat down on the couch. You threw your leg over his lap and lowered yourself onto his cock without wasting a second. Somewhere in the back you could hear Jeno fishing for his clothes. Jaemin sucked in a breath, undoing your bra with a simple flick of his wrist. He tugged the material off your body and went straight for your nipple, running his tongue over the sensitive bud.

“Good night guys.”, Jeno said, standing by your door. Jaemin pulled away from your breast and looked over his shoulder. “Good night Jenni! I hope we don’t keep you up.” Jeno made his exit, leaving you and Jaemin to be. Jaemin bucked his hips upwards, fucking into you from below. Loud moans poured out of your mouth as he rammed into you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted y/n. Didn’t you want to feel my cock inside of you like this?”, Jaemin questioned, losing the playful demeanour. You nodded frantically. “Yes, Jaemin. Oh god, yes!”You couldn’t even speak coherently because of how quick he was fucking you. You could feel Jeno’s sticky cum trailing down your thighs. It all felt so lewd but you would never complain about it. “Are you going to cum all over my cock y/n?”, Jaemin asked, noticing the way your moans became shriller. You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer him. You were too focused on the knot forming in your stomach to think about anything else. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.”, you moaned, fingeres tugging on his hair in desperation. Jaemin said nothing further and sped up his thrusts, hammering into you from below.

Your orgasm hit you so hard that your thighs began quivering at the strong sensation. You shut your eyes, a screen of white flashing before them as Jaemin slowed down a bit. He helped you ride out your high, grabbing your hips in order to keep you moving over him. Your walls were tight around his cock, and after a few more thrusts, he twitched inside you, soon emptying his seed into, just as Jeno had. After he pulled out of you, you fell onto the couch, suddenly feeling very fatigued. It was almost the morning now. God knows how long you’d been trying to fuck off your horniness. Thankfully, you were now fully and completely satisfied. “Aren’t you gonna clean yourself up?”, Jaemin asked, walking into your bathroom with his clothes in hand. You didn’t have the energy to move anymore. Jaemin came back, fully dressed, with a blanket and warm towel which he gave to you. You lazily ran it over your thighs, pulling the blanket over yourself soon after. Jaemin concluded that it was time for him to go home now. He bid you a farewell and was about to leave your house before he remembered that he had something to ask.

“Can you still send me whatever I was meant to see? I’d really love that.”

#neosmutcollective #nct-writers #hoehousenet #jeno smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #kpop

[eideticmemory]

DOWN THE HALL | SPENCER REID

Spencer lives down the hall, and likes to spend more time dicking you down than telling you the important things.

Word Count: 4k.

Warning: Sex w/ S2 Spencer.

207.

Not very far from 210, where not two months ago, you settled down in the heart of DC. You first met him when he was coming up the steps, and like an awkward television moment. Your eyes met, you went still, stunned from any movement, your key stuck in the lock of your door.

And although he felt it too, the connection, the attraction, the momentary pause in time. He didn’t react. He stopped, he saw, he kept walking. All the way to unit 207, where he’d lived for over a year.

In your wildest dreams, he would give you just a second of his time. He was like a blur. Never there. Gone in an instant, constantly moving. He often came home late at night, sometimes two, three in the morning.

Tonight, he came home at midnight. He pounded on your door exactly thirty-seven minutes after the hour. You weren’t asleep by any means, but you were comfortable in your bed. Completely surrounded by bliss and safety, suddenly pulled to fear by the sudden knock.

You answered the door in your pajamas, a lamp in the grasp of your hand, prepared to defend yourself in the most ridiculous way possible. You dropped it to the ground when you saw him.

“Hi.”

“Hi . . . [y/n], right?” he greeted, too tired to put on the facade of a bubbly appearance. His sweater vest was clenched in his fist at his side, his tie loosened around his neck, only just revealing his chest underneath.

You, dressed in gray long sleeve and green shorts, tried desperately to hide yourself behind the door. “Yeah,” you murmured.

“Hi, uh, I’m Spencer — Reid. I live in 207,” he told you. A formal introduction.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve seen you, too,” he sighed. “Which is why I’m here, listen, [y/n], would you like to come over?”

“I — “ you stuttered, visibly taken aback. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now? Now? I — for all you know, you could be a serial killer or something.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head, “No, no, I’m not a serial killer . . . the opposite, actually.”

The way you saw it: you could be stupid, and not go with this gorgeous man. Or be stupid, and go with this gorgeous man. There was really one answer. “Okay . . . okay, let me change — “

“What you have on is fine,” he nodded to you, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked down the hall.

Your jaw dropped just slightly, “Okay.” And you followed him, your socks pressing to the hardwood of the hallway floor.

He closed the door behind you, and it felt final. Locked in. You turned to him, after being distracted by the allure of his apartment, and he was suddenly two feet away from you. You gasped, “Really making me believe you’re a serial killer, dude.”

“Sorry . . . sorry,” he whispered, taking a step back. “I just — didn’t think you’d actually come. Didn’t have a plan.”

“Oh, now you’re shy?”

Spencer cracked a smile.

Finally.

“Bad day?” you asked.

“Bad.”

“Well . . . I don’t know what you’re, usual coping skills are, but um, if this is your very deranged version of a booty call, I accept.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, “Booty call?” he repeated, not understanding the term in the slightest.

You let out a dry chuckle, “Okay . . . okay, um . . .” You moved in with your hands ready to hold his face in your palms. His skin was warm, red, soft. Just like his lips. His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, in a desperate attempt to keep you close.

You pulled away, his temples between your hands, whispered, “Is that what you wanted?”

And instead of saying a simple ‘yes,’ he pushed his body against yours, pulled you in by your waist and stuck his tongue in your mouth.

It was a heavy mix of attempts to breathe between kisses, you tripping over your feet as Spencer began to kiss your neck, feverishly pushing you to his bedroom. You fell back onto his bed, completely spread open for his to see. To touch. To kiss. To climb on top of.

By sheer luck of his, you weren’t wearing underwear, and it drove him crazy how wet you already were. He pushed your shorts to the side and you melted against his fingers as they pressed to your clit, slid inside of you. He hummed a soft moan against your cheek, using his hips and wrist to push his fingers further inside of you. God, you don’t know how he did it, but your legs were already shaking. You gripped onto the soft material of his shirt, your jaw dropping to release a gasp.

You couldn’t comprehend how his fingers made you feel so full. How they struck in just the right spot, so deep, so much pressure. “Fuck,” you slipped.

“I’m not even doing anything,” Spencer said. Not cocky, not arrogant. Just clueless. It was cute.

“So do something,” you wanted it to be an order. But it came out as a beg.

Either way, he delivered. He curled his fingers inside of you, and you could feel your entire body tense up. He was fast, and aggressive, more than you anticipated. His hands pushed your shirt up over your chest. He took his time, teasing your nipples with his fingertips, blowing on them just to keep them hard before he put his mouth on them. It was all tongue, slimy and sticky and topped off with tight suction.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you release frail whimpers into the air. Your hips moved desperately against his hand, chasing an orgasm that was so close, it was just mean. You called out Spencer’s name, and he responded by railing his fingers into you so hard, your toes curled on impact.

“Oh, God,” you whined.

His mind pieced together the clues like fragments of glass. The heat between your legs, the shuffling of your thighs, your increased in volume, the way you pulled at his clothes, his hair, his skin. You were so close. And he was going to get you there, no need to worry.

His mouth left a wet trail from your breasts to your navel. The palm of his hand pushed your thighs apart, just making enough room for his head. “God, fuck,” his mouth was red hot, and slick. His tongue pressed into just the right spot on your clit, and swiped up with a hard and fast motion. Over, and over, and over.

It was so good. The combination of his long fingers, and quick tongue, and the warmth of his hand holding your tummy down. You pulled and scratched at him in some weak effort to ease the intensity, but he was so good. Where you needed it, he gave it to you. Until the tension in your body became too much to bear, and you came in a tantrums of moans and gasps. Both of his hands grabbed your thighs as they tightened around his face, and his tongue worked on you until every last drop was squeezed out of you.

You went to catch your breath, but his mouth was back on yours. His face was red, and turned a dark crimson when you undid his pants. Your head was heavy, and your vision was still a bit blurry, so you let your hands lead the way. You only looked down when his cock was caught in your hand, hard and big and pulsing for you, aching for you. You kissed Spencer’s neck, your tongue tracing a line down his throat as he reached over to grab a condom. His body was trembling, struggling to hold back from the pleasure.

The condom rolled over him pornographically, contrasting against the fabric of his pants. His belt rang as he pushed himself into you, and it was cold on your stomach. Just beneath the surface, Spencer was filling you up to the brink, and God, did you feel full. His hands were positioned beside your head, each other gripping onto the pillow with all his strength.

Even in the dark, you could see his pupils were dilated to the size of Jupiter, and his teeth dug into his lip as his hips dug into yours. His movements were slow at first, unsure. But as he moved in and out of you, made you squeak and moan, he realized that you liked it. That he was doing a good job, and he better keep it up. So he picked up the pace, a lot. You were taking as much of a beating as the headboard, but your moaning was loud enough to mask the noise. Spencer only gave you primal grunts in your ear, until you hooked your legs around his waist. Then his jaw dropped, and the gates were open.

It was almost musical, the sounds you guys made together. Growing louder when one of you would claw at the other, or bite onto the other’s shoulder just to stay grounded. And Spencer seemed to get more determined with time, placing your ankles on his shoulders, bending you in half just to get as deep inside of you as possible.

He had you in tears almost. So little time, but still so, so close. The pressure was deep, making you whimper with each thrust Spencer delivered without mercy. You held your fingers to the back at his neck, holding him in place with his forehead against yours. You pleaded, with your eyes, your voice, “Keep going, ke--keep going.”

He paused to hold his cock deep inside of you, just long enough to make you cry out, then his fingers found their way to your clit. They were fast, and his hips struggled to keep up. But either way, the pleasure was blinding and weakening. When you came, you gave him all you had. Absolutely all you had. He watched it happen. Watched your face, to make sure he remembered it. And he will remember it.

He’ll remember it as the face that laid there, underneath him, and watched him come undone. Your grunts and groans lined up perfectly with each of his final thrusts, reaching their peak as Spencer breathed out a long and life-sucking orgasm, shaking helplessly against you while he rode it out.

Dazed doesn’t begin to describe it -- the feeling of laying there afterwards. You just laid there, looking at him, thinking:

207.

I’m going to fall in love with the guy in 207 if he keeps fucking me like this.

“Oh . . .” Spencer said, noticing you crawling out of his bed. “You’re welcome to sleep in here, I can . . . I can take the couch.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, that’s not quite how the whole booty call thing works. But, um, if you want to see me again . . . you know where I live.”

That, he did.

And he was a frequent visitor. For months. You never did pinpoint where he worked, or what he did. His hours were never consistent. Weekends, late nights, even later nights. The poor thing would be so tired. He’d use the very last bit of all of his strength to fuck you, suck you, make you come until you were too worn out to move. Then, he’d just pass out. He once fell asleep in your arms at one in the morning. You touched the bridge of his nose, ran your finger over his swollen lips, felt the sweat on his jaw.

207, you thought.

God, the guy in 207 is beautiful.

The absolute latest -- or, earliest -- encounter you had was at six in the morning. He woke you out of a deep sleep with a phone call. His contact flashed on the screen, only noted with the initials SR, and it was accompanied by his voice, telling you he was at your door. The sun was rising, shining softly on you two through the window. It was the first time Spencer ever fully undressed for you. He was even more beautiful than you’d initially thought, and you were free to touch every inch of him. Feel the way his skin heated up, and watch how it turned red under your touch.

He pinned your hands over your head while you came, kept whispering to you. “It’s okay, [y/n], let it out. Let it go.”

You did. It was the first night you two received a noise complaint. The first time you saw Spencer hunched over in laughter. After your next door neighbor had returned to her apartment.

“This is funny to you?” You asked, but you couldn’t contain your own laughter.

Spencer responded with a cackle. He was bent over, hands on his knees, dying of laughter. Another noise complaint had to be on it’s way. “God,” he laughed. “I’m so tired. I’m so — I’m —“ he was cut off by another fit of giggles. And all you could do was watch, wait.

He choked out his last few chuckles, and stood up straight, breathing in a deep gust of air. “Can I make you breakfast?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, grinning, “You think you should be allow around an open flame right now? Seriously?”

“Come on.”

The sun was in full bloom, bright and illuminating the space in Spencer’s apartment. You sat at his kitchen table, observing him in a trance. His sweatpants were hanging off of his hips, topped with a loose red t-shirt that stuck out against his pale skin. His hair was still disheveled, and covering his face. Standing over two pans of eggs and bacon, the heat caused sweat to bead on his forehead. Every once in a while, he’d turn his head to look at you. Like he knew you weren’t taking your eyes off him. He’d smile, you’d smile back, and watch him as he continued back to his cooking.

207, you thought.

Fuck, I’m falling for the guy in 207.

But that was the last time you saw him.

The last time he called, the last time he came over, the last time you went to his place. It was the last late night booty call Spencer Reid had to offer.

And it made you feel like shit. Shitty, and angry, and so confused. Shitty, because, well, you were no longer getting the dick you were accustomed to. Angry, because what the fuck? And confused, because . . . because you don’t know what you did. Don’t know how he went from looking at you with that soft glimmer in his eyes, to barely looking at you at all.

From fucking you, every night that he could, to having his number deleted from your phone. That didn’t stop you from sleeping beside it every night, hoping, wishing, that it would just ring. That it was just work keeping him from you.

But after three weeks, you finally came to terms with the fact that it probably wasn’t work. Your mind went into overload, imaging all the things it could be, and the one thing that would not leave your brain: It’s another girl. It had to be. It had to be. Because, as much it hurt, it hurt less than thinking he had just forgotten about you.

The night he finally spoke to you again, was the first night you slept properly in weeks. It was a deep sleep, and for once — for once, in a fucking blue moon — you didn’t dream of Spencer.

So, of course he showed up at your door at midnight.

You awoke like you’d been waiting for the sound. In a lot of ways, you had been, but in no way were you prepared for it. You hopped out of bed, rushed to the door so fast that you were sliding in your socks.

“Wow,” Spencer breathed. “So you . . . always look this beautiful when you wake up . . .”

You went to slam the door in his face, but he stopped it with his palm, “[y/n], wait, please —“

You sighed, and pulled the door open, hand on your hip, avoiding eye contact. From the quick glimpse you caught of him, he looked like he hadn’t sleep in almost a month. His eyes lost their light, his skin lost it’s color, his shoulders were slouched in exhaustion. The wrinkled shirt he had one was buttoned unevenly, and his feet were bare.

“I just . . .” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know who else to go to, I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms at him, “What’s wrong?” you asked, reluctantly.

“Can you . . . can you just come over?”

“Are you kidding? You ghost me, and expect me to come over and fuck? Are you seri —“

“[y/n].” He interrupted you, his voice stern. It shut you up immediately. “Can you just come over, please.”

The look on his face was full of stress. Aching, longing, tiredness. One month. One month of radio silence, and he thinks you’ll roll out of bed and fuck him?

He’s absolutely right.

The door to his apartment was cracked open, and from the threshold, you could hear the faintest sound. Almost a whine. You stepped in slowly, while Spencer rushed passed you after closing the door. He crossed the apartment, over to his bedroom where he disappeared almost instantly.

And here you thought he was really learning the ropes of the whole booty call thing. You entered the room, with your head hung low, ready to slide into his bed.

“How are you? Does your head still hurt?” he whispered.

Confused, thinking he was talking to you, you lifted your head up, stopped in your tracks. The little girl laying in Spencer’s bed was curled up into a ball, looking at him with a face of pure pain. Their faces mirrored one another’s, in an eerie way. The sadness, the exhaustion, they portrayed their emotions the exact same way.

She gave him a nod, and like she’d been waiting for Spencer to return, she broke into tears. Tears, and loud wails, and writhing around as she coddled her forehead. Spencer held her against his chest, rocking her in an attempt to soothe her. He turned to you, his eyes saying one word: Help.

You were frozen, yet somehow able to move your feet. You took a seat beside the little girl, looked at her, then Spencer, her, then Spencer. Her.

“Cassie, this is my friend, [y/n],” he told her. But Cassie only cried louder.

Her cries were unbearable, sad. You sighed to yourself, looked at Spencer until he gave you a nod.You reached in slowly to pressed your palm to Cassie’s forehead.

“Oh, goodness, honey, you’re burning up,” you said. Giving Spencer one last look, you asked, “May I?”

Spencer said a quiet “yes,” before handing Cassie over you. The little one rested her head on your shoulder, as you cradled her in your arms.

You rose to your feet, and carried her to Spencer’s bathroom, where you immediately cut on the shower. The rush of water was barely loud enough to drown out her cries. You began to undress her, removing her pajamas.

“Do you have any children’s tylenol?” you asked Spencer as you sat Cassie in the tub.

“I—i—it’s cooold!” she wailed.

“I know, I know, give me a second,” you told her. “Spencer. Do you have any children’s tylenol?”

“N—no,” he stuttered, struggling to speak while you removed your shorts.

“Get some,” you ordered. You stepped into the tub, and pulled Cassie into your arms. The coldwater soaked your clothes, and coaxed her shaking body.You rested your back against the wall, and allowed her to sob against your chest. Sobbing. But quieter now.

Spencer looked at Cassie, hesistant. “Go,” you nodded to him. “We’ll be okay.”

He exhaled, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Cassie stayed in your arms for the rest of the night. By the time Spencer returned, she’d let you dress her, brush her hair. And it was you who took her temperature, which had thankfully dropped dramatically since the shower. You gave her a small amount of tylenol, and you both fell asleep with her laying on your chest.

Spencer came to wake you at seven in the morning. He hovered over you, and gently called your name so as to not wake Cassie. You groggily looked down at her, and slid from under her carefully. You made sure she was tucked in before you left the room.

Spencer had a cup of coffee waiting for you. The two of you sipped on mugs, awkwardly standing in the kitchen, in silence. “So . . .” you spoke. “Is she . . .”

“Mine?” he nodded slowly, avoiding your gaze. “Yes.”

You scoffed, set your mug down. “She’s cute.”

“[y/n]—“

“And Cassie. Cute name . . . short for Cassandra?”

He sighed, “Cassiopeia, actually . . . she was, uh, queen in greek mythology. Known for her beauty.”

You almost cracked a smile. “Your doing, I suppose.”

“I may have had a say in it,” he grinned.

“Don’t do that,” you commanded.

“Do what?”

“Look at me, and be all cute, and think that’s going to get you out this. Because it’s not.”

“I’m . . .” he stuttered. “Not trying to get out of anything . . .”

“Well, you should be. All those times you’ve been inside me, and you couldn’t tell me once that you have a kid?”

“It’s complicated . . .”

“No, no! It’s not complicated. It’s four words. A little bit more if you bother to give me an adequate explanation.”

“I don’t owe you an explaination, [y/n].”

You took a step back, “Oh, really? You don’t?”

“No.”

You drew in a deep breath, crossed your arms, and exhaled as you stared at the floor. “Bye, Spencer.”

You turned around, and headed for the front door, the sound of his voice drawing you back in. “What do you want from me?” He shouted. You’d never so much as heard him curse, let alone raise his voice. You turned to him, your jaw dropped.

“What do you want, [y/n]?” he continued, now taking small steps towards you as he spoke. “Hm? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine. I was 20 when River and I had Cassie. 20. I had just gotten my doctorate, I wasn’t ready to have a . . . kid. But I love my daughter. Then it . . . came down to moving for work . . . River wouldn’t come with me, so I left.”

“You left?” You repeated.

He nodded, “I did. Not without a . . . nasty, non-legal custody battle first. Because of my job, I — I couldn’t get Cassie. I couldn’t give her what she needed. Which is why when my . . . crazy, ex-girlfriend showed up a month ago and dropped her off, said she was my responsibility now, I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t . . . even take care of her when she had a migraine.”

Your face had visibly softened at his change of tone. The hint of sadness that carried in his voice. “I’m sorry,” you said. “That you went through that, I’m sorry . . . but that doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve gotten this information a bit sooner—“

“Why?” he snapped. “Why, [y/n]? Because we were having sex? I owed you my entire life story because we were having sex?”

The gust of air that exhaled from your lips was quick and unstoppable. You could hear the hurt. So could Spencer. You nodded, “Guess not.”

You continued to head for the exit, not looking back, not stopping. But when you opened the door, two people were waiting, about to knock on the wood.

“Hi,” the woman said. “Hi . . . oh, we must have the wrong apartment. I’m sorry.”

“Garcia, Garcia, wait,” the man told her, then turned to you. “We’re looking for Spencer Reid, is he here?”

“Yeah, he is. I’m leaving.” You grumbled, pushing past the two of them to rush to your apartment.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” you heard the woman mumbled behind your back.

“Yo, kid,” the man’s voice called. “Where ya’ been? Did you think you could miss two weeks of work and we wouldn’t check on you?”

Oh, good, you thought.

So we’re all finding this out at the same time.

You didn’t leave your place for the rest of the day. The first thing you did was try to watch tv. Then, journaling. Then, yoga. Then, a little online shopping. But when the guy who you began to trust and love has a kid that he’s been hiding for months, brings you into his home to care for her, and then writes you off as a fling, there’s not much that can take your mind off of it.

The only thing that worked was a knock at the door. His knock. You huffed, slammed your hands into the couch cushions, and stood. Marching up to the door, you swung it open with an attitude. “What?” You snapped, enraged. Until you looked down.

“Hi, Miss [y/n]!” Cassie pipped. God, she looked so much like her father.

“Oh, Cassie,” you smiled, bending down to ignore Spencer. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Great! I made you something,” she presented you with a piece of paper, graced with a wonderful portrait of a bunny. You smiled as she placed it in your hands.

“Our way of saying thank you, for last night,” Spencer added.

You looked up at him, and gave him a faux smile while you rose to your feet. “Of course. I’m happy to help,” you nodded.

“Would you . . . possibly like to come to the park with us?” his voice cracked. “M—Maybe . . . grab dinner afterwards?”

Now your smile was real.

“Pleeeeease, Miss [y/n], please?” Cassie begged. She leaned in, whispered, “I think daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

You laughed, and the sound mixed in with Spencer’s own laughter. You looked up at him, and there it was: that momentary pause in time. “Sure,” you said to him. Only him. “I’d like that very much.”

Based on this request from @crystalclearwater162: heyy queen! do u mind writing single dad Spencer? But like Spencer from season 1 or 2 and the team doesn’t know he has a kid bc they’ve nvr rly seen him beside work. they only find out bc they show up to his apartment one day after work and see a little girl calling him daddy 🥺🥺.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #mine

[divinerulerluvr]

Sweet Serial Killer ||

Summary - Inmate Kai Anderson further seduces his new guard after preying on her for weeks.

Part 1 is here

Suggested by @iheartfrogs101

Note - I was inspired by this post for the whole shaving Kai plot. Definitely go read it :)

- - -

“Hey, Y/l/n,” A guard calls out to me as i sit in the break room. I look up to him, my eyebrows raised in question as i play with the water bottle in my hand. “The guy on your block has gotten himself in trouble and you need to shave his face,”

“Why me?” i ask with dread.

“‘Cause it’s that or you guard the deranged idiot on block six. Pick your battles, sweetheart,” he shrugs before walking back out of the break room. With an irritated huff, i stand from the couch and head off to the room where prisoners would get groomed.

Kai had been a pain in my ass lately. I never let him out unless instructed to no matter how often he pleads. He pretends he knows everything about me when in reality, he knows nothing.

I walk into the room and see he wasn't there yet. I gather all needed materials like the straight edge razor and cheap shaving cream before leaning against the counter as i wait. Kai is eventually escorted into the room. Two buff guards stand on either side of him even though he was shackled like an animal.

Not that it was a bad thing.

The guards push him onto the chair, cuffing his hands to the arms of the chairs no matter how many snide comments he makes. The guards glanced at me before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

This room was very depressing. Gray walls and a dark blue door with a small window on it. Nothing else for decoration but a single counter and the chair bolted to the ground. I’d hate to be a prisoner. It’s just… sad.

A smirk spreads on his lips as he looks at me. “I asked for you,” he says, causing me to internally roll my eyes. “I wanted us to get as close as possible,” he chuckles maliciously. He had an agenda. Any dumb person could see that.

Grabbing the blade and shaving cream, i step wearily towards him. Kai looks up at me, his leg bouncing obnoxiously. I apply the cream to his face, avoiding eye contact at all costs. His leg moving was throwing me off and with such a difficult blade, i was afraid i’d cut him.

“Can you stop bouncing your goddam leg?” i snap, closing my eyes in frustration. He grins. “What vulgar language, doll,” he comments. He was getting on my nerves already. He continued to bounce his leg, keeping me unable to properly shave his face.

Completely fed up, i place my hand on his knee to stop it from moving. I knew this was what he wanted, but i just needed to shave him and get over with it.

I press the blade to his skin, moving it along his neck and cheek to shave his face. Wiping the excess shaving cream onto the towel, i see the triumphant and cocky look on his face. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he says, referring to how my wrist rested on his cheek.

He was right. My heart was just about ready to explode in my chest. Being so close to a convicted murderer was killing me. I was an equal mix of afraid and horny.

“Do i scare you, Y/n?”

I quickly shake my head. Lying to both him and myself. He didn’t scare me. The situation scares me. “Do i turn you on, then?” he asks instead. Swallowing thickly, i use all my focus on shaving his face and not cutting him.

“If you uncuff me i could release that… tension,” he suggests, his motive showing clear as day. He just wanted to get unchained to be free. “I don’t have the keys,” i say blatantly. He scoffs. “Bullshit,” he calls out.

I stay silent, wiping off the shaving cream from the blade. “What are these?” he snarkily says, using the little mobility he has in his hand to jingle the keys that dangle from my belt. I step back from him, glaring down at him.

“You wanna know what i think about at night, princess?” he questions, his dark eyes daring me to go with his games. “What?” i ask, getting it over with as i lean in to finish shaving his face. “You,” he states.

He sighs softly, as if recalling past thoughts. “I think about so many things. I think about your body. How fucking hot your moans would be as i rail you. How sensitive a sweet virgin like you would be. How i know i could make you quiver at just a light touch,”

I push my thighs together, keeping any excitement suppressed as i continue shaving him. “I bet you like being dominated. Like having all say taken away and being abused. Men need women like you. There isn’t any power drain when the woman has absolutely no fucking power,” he explains, staring me down.

His eyes pierce into my soul. Digging through my mind as he overanalyzes me. “Cute little pillow princesses like you are always the best. They’re too desperate for validation and approval to argue. What their master says, goes,” he says with a shrug.

The burning in my lower stomach was intense. I felt my cheeks get hot and my skin start to prickle with pure arousal. He caught onto this, of course. Proud of how he got me to react. “Let me touch you, Y/n. I want to feel you,” he says.

I wouldn’t call it begging. Instead, it was more or less an order. Him telling me what to do. Finishing shaving his face, i step away from him. I turn my back to him, letting me gather myself and take a breath.

Turning back to face him, i could see the painfully obvious boner in his pants. My eyes meet his and i could see the devilish look in them. “There are cameras, Kai,” i say.

He groans, repositioning in his seat. “I like the way you say my name. You should be moaning it instead,” he slyly remarks. “Just uncuff one of my hands and let me touch you,” he negotiates instead.

My feelings of lust had overpowered my logic and i really wanted to uncuff his hand.

“Do it for your master,” he probes, the name he gave himself causing a shock of arousal to course through my system. He stares me down, the dark color of his beautiful eyes making me melt to his evil will.

Stepping towards him, i grab the key on my belt and uncuff one of his hands. “What about the cameras?” i ask. His hand immediately went for my body, running up my side and massaging my breast.

“Surprise, doll. They don’t work. Bit of a virus, you could say,” he says, a sinister tone in his voice telling me he fucked them up himself somehow. A small smile spreads on my lips as his hand runs down to between my legs. He doesn’t bother going into my pants and stays on the outside.

His fingers run over my clothed clit, my hips bucking at the sensation. “Come on, princess. Sit on my lap,” he coaxes. I obey, sitting on his lap and letting him spread my legs. He runs his hand up my inner thigh, toying with the fabric of my pants as a way to tease me.

His breath fans my face softly, his lips grazing the heated skin of my cheek. He runs his thumb over my core, a weak moan leaving my lips. He kisses my jaw, biting at the sensitive skin as he rubs my clit through my pants.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he tsks into my ear as he slithers his hands under my pants but not going under my underwear. “You’re soaked through. Maybe you’re needier than i thought,” he teases, a smirk in his voice.

He continues to rub my covered clit, his hand's warmth reaching my skin through the thin fabric of my underwear. I could feel his boner pressed against my ass, obnoxiously pressed into my skin.

I arch my back, pushing my hips shamelessly into the palm of his hand. He hums in satisfaction, his fingers working wonders on my sensitive clit as he pushes me closer and closer to an orgasm.

He presses soft kisses to my neck before digging his teeth into my skin, pulling a shaky moan from my mouth. I could feel a slight tremble in my legs as i squirm on his lap. He was right. I could feel my wetness absolutely soaking my underwear now that he was touching me.

I could feel his eyes studying my reaction to his touch. Relishing in how sensitive i was and how easily submissive i was to him. I rest my head back onto his shoulder, giving him more access to my neck for him to mark.

“It’s insane how i have more power over you and i’m the one half chained up,” he comments, chuckling darkly as his fingers pick up speed. I rest my hand on his arm that had the restraints on it, my nails digging into his warm skin as my walls convulse with the threat of an oncoming orgasm.

“Cum for me. I want to see you fall apart,” he encourages me. With his permission, i allow myself to let go from the thin and fraying strand that was my sanity.

It felt heavenly. Every single nerve in my body was buzzing with electrical fire and every single drop of blood in my veins bubbled and boiled deliciously. An exasperated moan falls from my lips, my legs shaking as i let the pleasure take over me.

Kai overstimulates me through my orgasm, his fingers now ceasing to just rubbing slow circles on my clothed clit. The fact that i had never once felt his fingers against my clit disappointing me. But it was again a part of his plan to make me continue coming back to him.

And if i’m being honest, it works.

He finally pulls his hand out from my pants, running his hand up my leg and trailing up my stomach and chest until he reaches my neck coated in red bite marks that would soon blossom into bruises.

“Beautiful,” he compliments under his breath. I open my eyes, only to see his eyes already taking in my disheveled state. “You should probably go. I’d love for you to stay but, i doubt it takes more than five minutes to shave a man’s face,”

I just nod, quickly getting off his lap and fixing myself. “Guards!” i call out weakly, opening the door that was locked after i had re-cuffed Kai’s free hand. The two men come in and uncuff Kai only to shackle his hands to his waist belt.

As he’s being escorted out, he glances back to me and winks. With this gesture, i felt my stomach drop.

I had been seduced by a serial killer.

#evan peters #kai anderson #kai anderson fic #ahs #ahs cult #part 2 #smut #fic #absolutely no fluff #not even if you squint #come on #hes a murderer

[slashersthings]

Billy Loomis x Fem! Reader/Part 2

“You're right, Billy, guess we're not going anywhere.”

Those words have you grasping the stair railing in front of you, knuckles going white from the forceness of it.

“We do have a better option here, don’t we?” Billy replies with a chilling smile directed at you and Stu laughs.

“Billy, please, don’t do this.” You start your first plea of the night, which seems to fall on deaf ears, as Billy and Stu just share another laugh and go about starting a plan to eliminate their ‘problem’.

“What about Y/N’s car?”

“I’ll get the keys and drive it somewhere they’ll never think to look.”

“And the body?”

“They’ll never find it.”

“And then what?” You interject into their disturbing conversation of how they’ll dispose of you’re body and they look up at you again, “You think my parents are just going to forget I existed and go about their life, acting as if I wasn’t missing?”

“We’ll think of something.” Stu says too quickly for your liking and Billy nods in agreement.

“You can’t really go through with this, right? Billy, you and I are friends, for God’s sake!”

“With benefits.” Stu adds with a giggle and under different circumstances, you’d have probably blushed and pretended not to understand what he was talking about, but maybe, just maybe, this was your ticket out of this house.

“Billy, you know deep down you can’t hurt me and if I mean anything to you, anything at all, please, let me go.”

You catch a glimmer of hope when you see Billy’s eyes soften at your words. Maybe this could work, maybe you could convince Billy to let you leave this house alive and not in a trash bag.

“Get the car keys.” Billy suddenly says and Stu nods, hurrying in the direction of the living room.

Well, you did say ‘maybe’. “Billy, I know you think you don't have any other choice here, but please, trust me when I tell you that you do.”

“It’s so easy to want to believe you, Y/N, mainly because you're so damn smart, smarter than me, that's for sure.” Billy takes a step further, “But I can’t let you walk out of this house, knowing what you know.”

“I won’t tell anyone about this, Billy, you and Stu will never get into trouble, I promise you that.”

Another step, “See, it sounds so simple when you say it, but actions speak louder than words, Y/N.”

“Oh my God, Billy, we were just practically dry humping on your couch ten minutes ago, doesn't that tell you something?”

“Yeah, it tells me a lot. It tells the story of two people who've wanted each other for a long time and decided to give it a go, but the protagonist, you, should have seen the warning signs a few chapters back.”

You back away from the railing when you finally notice that Billy was coming closer and closer to the stairs, “So, I guess I don't get a fairytale ending, eh?”

“Not this time.”

“It’s a shame,” You whisper, eyeing the open bedroom door a few feet away, “I really like those.”

“Everyone does until you realize relationships in fairytales are completely unrealistic and the white knight you hope will show up never does.”

“Hey, Billy, can I borrow this butcher knife?”

You dash off to the bedroom with a scream after hearing Stu’s deranged question from the kitchen, Billy quickly at your heels.

“Get back here, you bitch!”

You manage to make it into the bedroom and slam the door in Billy's face just in time. You felt sick to your stomach, eyes watering from fear and sadness. How could you've been so stupid? How did you not see the signs?

You yelp when Billy starts pounding on the door, screaming at you to open up and let him in. “I’ll go easy on you, babe, just let me in.”

“You mean you're going to kill me!”

There's silence on the other side, confirming that you're right. “Get the car and the duffel bag. We'll need what's inside.”

You hear Billy telling Stu what to do and swallow back your tears. You needed to think up a plan and you needed to think it up quick.

There didn’t seem to be any usable weapons in this bedroom, at least not any that would do severe damage to those two.

You glance around the bedroom, finding a phone sitting on a nightstand by the bed. As soon as you pick it up, there's a ‘click’ in the lock of the door, and your eyes widen.

No, no, no, this wasn't happening. He had a key. He had a goddamn key to this bedroom.

Billy bursts into the bedroom a few seconds later and you scream, scrambling over the bed to get to the other side of the room. “Please, stop screaming.” Billy pleads with you in a hushed whisper.

Uh-uh, no fucking way.

You shake your head, eyes looking for anything to help you. “What for? So, you can kill me without the neighbors hearing?”

“No, so I can talk to you without my ears bleeding.” He deadpans, and you tilt your head, giving him a long, hard look.

Billy closes the door, locking it too, and, yep, your heart was racing and you felt sick again, “If your gonna kill me, let's just get it over with, okay? No more theatrics.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Y/N, you're right, I can't do that to you.”

“Then what? You're gonna keep me here as your hostage?”

“There’s an image.”

Your eyes widen, “I hate that I can't tell if you're joking or not.”

“Be a good girl and you'll find out.”

You also hated the fact that a familiar heat pooled between your legs, because there should be absolutely no reason for this to be turning you on.

But for some reason, your body disagreed.

“Let me leave and you'll see how much of a good girl I can be.”

He chuckles, eyes gazing down your body, then back up to your worried eyes, “Oh, I have no doubt about that. But, you can't leave just yet.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because you think I'm going to go to the police and tell them what you and Stu have been up to.”

“You got it.” He shrugs, taking a step towards you, “And I wish I could say that you'd be different from that and keep your mouth shut, but I don't think that's possible. Am I right?”

“No,” You murmur, shaking your head, eyes tearing up again, “No, you're not right. Billy, you may not believe this or not want to believe in this, in me, but I don't want to see you rotting in a jail cell for the rest of your life.”

Feeling a rush of bravery, you close the gap between you and Billy, grabbing his hand with your own, “I care about you, I have for a long time now, and I think you feel the same way about me.”

“You know I do.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that I won't breathe a word about this to anyone. Not my parents, not the police, absolutely no one.”

He sees the determined look in your eyes and with a deep sigh, he reluctantly nods and pulls you closer, “I hope you won't make me regret this later on, Y/N.”

“You won't.” You smile and lean up to kiss him, “But, there is just one thing.” You say after pulling away from him slightly.”

“Yeah? What's that?” Billy asks, showing no interest in talking as he pulls you with him to the bed.

“Who’s going to tell Stu?”

Billy stops abruptly at your question and you giggle, perching yourself on top of the bed. “Ah, yeah, you wanna do it?”

“Yeah, uh, no, not happening. He's been trying to kill me a few minutes ago.”

“Alright, I'll go tell him.” He says but doesn't make any effort to leave, instead, he pulls you to him, kissing you deep and hard.

“Billy, ” You murmur against his lips, “What about Stu?”

“I’m going, I'm going, ” He grumbles while wrapping his strong arms around your waist, “Ten minutes.”

“Five.” You argue, fingers sliding up into his hair.

“Eight.” His tongue licks your upper lip, and your resolve starts to crumble.

“Fine.” You agree and Billy quickly presses you into the bed after that, making you let out a little mpgh noise against his mouth.

His body molds on top of you, his tongue buried inside you mouth, and for just a few minutes, you choose to forget what took place fifteen minutes ago.

His mouth is hot on your neck, licking and biting, and you make a mental reminder to check for marks when you leave. But when his hips roll against yours, and you feel him pressing against your center, all thoughts go out the window.

...”Hey, Billy, what's going on? Did you take care of Y/N?”

You freeze, eyes worriedly staring at the locked door, “Oh no.”

“I guess I better tell him.” Billy says and gets off of you reluctantly, “Stay right here.”

“Yes, sir.”

You watch him smile before unlocking the door, “What the hell, man, what's going on?”

“I gotta talk to you about Y/N.”

“What?”

“Let’s go downstairs.”

Billy closes the door, leaving you alone in the bedroom with your thoughts. You were now in deep with these two. You were an accomplice to their crimes.

...Well, at least you weren't dead.

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu matcher #scream #i intended for this to be smut but 🤷‍♀️🏻 #I was listening to taylor swift and things kinda got sappy

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Yoongi

You’re more than thrilled to be on set with your boyfriend as he films his newest music video prior to his second mixtape release. But you simply can’t imagine Yoongi-quiet, reserved, introverted-performing in front of the camera as a mad emperor. He’s a professional, but this is going to be difficult right? Fortunately, Yoongi surprises you once again and has a trick up his sleeve to help loosen him up-a trick which makes him a little bit more forward and daring in every aspect.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the scene, BTS Drabble, Daechwita, D-2, Agust D, Min Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi x you, Yoongi x reader, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Fluff

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Warnings: I mean, there’s mention of alcohol. 🤷

Title: The Mad King

“Holy shit, this place is freaking beautiful.” You can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth-eyes wide-as you look around the main courtyard and palace of Dae Jang Geum Park. 

The set for the music video, the park is already bustling and full of activity, even this early in the morning-extras being told where to stand and position, trailers with equipment pulling in, makeup and hair artists scurrying back and forth from one of the buildings. 

Yoongi’s new music video is a huge deal. Just like the man himself. 

“It’s gorgeous, heh?” Yoongi’s makeup noona appears beside you and slings her arm across your shoulders, her thick heavy black boots loud on the courtyard tiles as she joins you in staring in awe up at the large building before you. “He picked a perfect set.” 

“You’re telling me.” You say breathlessly, before you glance over at her once more, realizing now who’s talking to you. “Wait. Are you done?” 

She laughs, tossing the end of her high, dark ponytail over her shoulder, and you realize that she’s dressed in a different outfit than before. “Honey, I’ve been done with your boyfriend for hours. I had to get myself ready.” 

“You look amazing.” You pull back from her to hold her at arm’s length. “You get a scene right?” 

“Damn straight! I don’t look this good for nothing!” She exclaims, and you both laugh, before someone calls out her name, and she glances over her shoulder with a sigh. “Speaking of which, I gotta get back to work.” She winks at you. “Go find that boy of yours before we start filming and wish him luck.” 

It takes you awhile to find Yoongi, but when you do, he’s right where you would have expected him to be-on the uppermost floor of the palace, leaning against the railing, look out over the bustle of the courtyard. 

“Yoongs?” You ask softly as you step into the throne room, and when he turns to look at you, you almost lose your breath. 

He’s dressed head to toe in traditional royal Hanbok, a slender samurai sword strapped at his waist. His dark hair is hidden beneath a very realistic looking blonde wig, pulled up at the crown, and a long, angry red scar crosses one of his eyes. 

“Holy shit.” You find yourself saying beneath your breath for the second time that day, and the corner of his mouth starts to pull up into a smile at your surprised exclamation, flashing pink gums and white teeth. 

“Like it?” He steps toward you, holding his arms out at his side, and suddenly, you get the vision of the mad king much more now than you had before-the outfit and something about his aura has you suddenly viewing him in a different light. 

“I-” You can’t seem to find the words, because staring at Yoongi-confident and slightly smug-before you, playing the part of a deranged emperor, is suddenly making you feel some sort of way in the pit of your stomach. 

“You’re speechless?” This time, his lips pull back completely to give you a sort of self satisfied smirk, and the caramel irises of his eyes warm and darken, his pupils blowing wide, as he approaches you on sure, slow footsteps. 

“I’m speechless.” You confirm breathlessly, and he’s close to you now, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne-fresh and stark and familiar-in your nose. And suddenly, your heart is doing flips against your rib cage, at the look of pure intent that washes across his gaze as he stares down at you. 

“Are you nervous?” You manage to stutter out, swallowing hard, trying to distract yourself from the arousal that is pooling in your stomach as his eyes hold your own.  

“No.” Yoongi replies, surprising you, and once again, the corner of his lip lifts slightly, creasing the scar that crosses his eye. “I’m not nervous.” 

You open your mouth to ask him what has him so confident, but before the words can leave your tongue, Yoongi is leaning into you and slanting his mouth over your own, in a very sudden and very urgent kiss, that catches you off guard in the best way possible. 

His tongue slides along the part of your mouth-as if asking for entrance-and you allow him in, letting your own trace over the edge of his bottom teeth, as his hands tangle into your hair, and he lets out a low groan against your open lips in response. 

You’re too distracted-as your back hits the wall behind you, and Yoongi’s fingers drift lightly down the skin of your neck toward your collarbone-to notice for a moment, but then, the taste of something acidic and honeyed hits your taste buds. 

You pull back from him, breaking contact for a moment, and the air between you is filled with gasps for lost breath, as you glance up at him, surprise clear on your features, as you ask hoarsely, “Yoongi, did you drink?” 

He lets out a noise between swollen lips-a sound between a scoff and a dry chuckle-and his tongue darts out to wet the pink skin in a gesture that has your stomach clenching with pleasure, before he reaches up to thumb your bottom lip, half hooded eyes tracing across the features of your face. “Just a little whiskey in the bathroom during makeup and hair. I needed to loosen up to play the part.” 

“That’s-” You start to exclaim, before your words are once again cut off by his mouth finding yours. 

His teeth nip the full, plush skin of your bottom lip, and you gasp lightly, feeling him smirk against your mouth, as he palms your face, keeping you from pulling away, before he murmurs heatedly under his breath, “Irresponsible?” 

You can smell the whiskey on his breath, and it’s intoxicating, and you feel as if you’re the one who has been drinking, because your head is spinning and your whole body feels extra sensitive-to the air, to the clothes you’re wearing, to the way Yoongi’s fingers brush hotly beneath the edge of your shirt and across your bare skin. 

You shake your head, and this time, you crash your lips into his, because suddenly, you need him more than anything else in the world. 

“No.” You manage to say, frantically returning his feverish kisses in between words. “It’s-” He swipes his tongue back around the inside of your mouth-warm and persistent-and you feel yourself melt into him, his fingers digging into the skin that covers your hipbones. “Hot as hell.” 

“Yeah?” He twists his mouth into that same damn smirk that always makes you weak kneed, and presses your body further back against the wall with his own, and the way you can feel his desire for you-obvious and fervent-has your body trembling with sudden, insatiable need. 

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi. 

His smirk disappears, and his pupils blow with desire, completely covering the warm caramel ring of his irises, as his long, slender fingers encircle your wrists and pin them up above your head in one easy movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips once more, as his eyes rove down the length of your body, and his free hand traces down your curves to the closure of your pants. 

“Shit baby, you’re practically shaking.” He leans into you, lips brushing across the shell of your ear, breath hot and hinting at alcohol as it washes across your skin. “Do you want me that badly?” 

“Yoongi.” You turn your head into his, your lips brushing across his jawline as you speak. And when you say his name again, your fingers digging into his own, and your skin brushing his, it is in a whine, as you squirm beneath his weight. “Yoongi. Don’t tease me.” 

“I’m not teasing you, baby.” Yoongi frees his own pants, his fingers tantalizingly brushing across the skin revealed by the edge of your t-shirt, and when he speaks again, his lips once more close to yours, it is in a low growl from the back of his throat that sends pleasurable shivers down your spine. “I’m enjoying you.” 

Those are the last words either of you says for several minutes, as his mouth once again captures your own, and his fingers pin yours to the wall, and your body melds with his, and nothing but harsh breaths and moans leave your mouths, as you both give into your desires. 

“Loosening” is an understatement on the effect that whiskey has on Min Yoongi. 

When it’s all said and done, and you’re trying to straighten your jacket and fix the mess that is now your hair, Yoongi struggling to straighten his long blonde wig and reposition his traditional robes, you cant help but grin up at him, as you stay against the wall for a moment longer, trying to control the last of the trembling in your legs. 

“What?” He asks you, raising a slender dark brow in your direction, as he reaches up to thumb across the smile still curving your lips upward. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You shrug slightly, unable to keep the happy grin from creeping back over your features, and though you are still slightly out of breath, you manage to say steadily, “I dunno.” You shrug again, unable to think of anything else to do with all of your emotions. You reach out to straighten the edge of his hanbok. “I just like the mad king. That’s all.” 

Yoongi chuckles, his face still slightly flushed from your previous activities, and probably from the effect of the loosening warm whiskey from earlier, and puts a long finger underneath your chin, to tilt your gaze to meet his own. “You like the mad king?” 

“I like the mad king.” You reiterate with a firm nod, and the thud of your heart in your chest and the way your breath is still lost, is a serious testament to the truthfulness of your words. 

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan seonyandan #bulletproof boy scouts #beyond the scene #bts drabble #drabble #bts fic #bts fanfic #fluff #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fiction #bts text #bts text post #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #purplearmynet #magicshopnet #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts scenario #agust d #yoongi #min yoongi #bts suga #suga #bangtanarmynet

[kindasadwriter]

Can you do Marco, Law and Kid getting mad at their SO for pranking them and trying to chase them down on the ship or something and SO just jumps overboard and is sitting in the ocean like..what you gonna do now man?

That’s about my level of maturity if I’m being honest so I’m more than happy to write this. Thanks for the ask!

Marco

‣ Listen the Whitebeard pirates are filled with jokesters and Marco is no exception. While he may not be as loud about it he’s a pretty sneaky prankster himself but see when he pulls pranks he makes sure the blame gets pinned on somebody else so as far as everybody else is concerned-Marco’s a stick in the mud. That’s unrelated though I just felt it needed to be said.

‣He doesn’t mind getting pranked but he was having a bad day so when he went to take a shower he was ready to just relax and unwind-and he did but the issue is when he comes out of the shower to find his clothes gone and replaced with a fundoshi all that stress comes right back.

‣Of course he’s got no choice but to use it because he’s not going to just sit in the shower and wait espically because he knows it’s his s/o who did this because they’re the only one who would dare come in while he was showering(let’s just say others have learned not to mess with him while he’s naked in the past) and do something like this. He’s gonna kill them.

‣Before looking for s/o he’s going to try and go back to their room and change but of course they’ve found a way to barricade the door shut. That won’t stop him though, he’ll break it down before going out onto deck like this. Enough people have already seen him and a few have even tried to snatch the fundoshi away. He’ll make sure to get back at them too but for now his focus is on his s/o.

‣When he finally does make his way on deck s/o is sitting oh so casually on the railing wearing the shirt he’d brought to change into. He won’t deny it looks good on them though.

‣He’ll call them out and s/o is kind of caught off guard by how angry he is because honestly it was a good idea-the only issue is he was having a bad day and they didn’t know that. S/o will apologize for getting him on a bad day and even says they’ll fix the door but Marco’s not relenting on his lecture and so s/o is just like you know what, I’ve apologized and am sorry but I cant do more than that so I’m going overboard and they just straight up jump over the railing and into the ocean which causes not only Marco to panic but the rest of the crew too because yeah they’re anchored but they’re anchored in the new world where the sea is very dangerous.

‣He’ll tell them to stop acting like a child and get back on deck to which s/o will respond with something along the lines of , “If you want to keep lecturing me you can come down here” because they know Marco isn’t done lecturing them.

‣As mature as he is, Marco can be childish too. Now he’s not stupid enough to jump into the sea but he will transform and give himself wings and tallons and swoop down on his s/o from above to continue lecturing them while trying to grab them and get them out of the sea-and you can bet once he grabs them he isn’t letting go.

‣It’s kind of like watching a hawk try and grab a frog out of the water or something.

‣Forget arguing about the prank now the two are arguing about the dangers of jumping into the sea and the dangers of Marco even being so close to the ocean with him saying they need to get back onto the ship and s/o saying he needs to get away from the sea because if a wave catches him off guard they’re going to have to try and save him.

‣Meanwhile Whitebeard’s watching this just thinking both of them are complete idiots.

‣Eveuntally Marco manages to snatch s/o out of the sea and get them back onto deck and he just drags them back to their room to fix the door he broke-because yes it’s their fault it’s broken in the first place it doesn’t matter what they say.

‣S/o will grumble about not even getting to see him in the fundoshi which will just irk him all over again. Though he can’t help but wonder how long they’d been planning this prank because he hadn’t noticed a fundoshi floating around the room lately nor had they docked on any islands that sold something like that.

Law

‣Law does NOT enjoy pranks. They waste time that could’ve been better spent doing anything else and they’re childish.

‣S/o didn’t really get to finish their prank because Law walked in halfway through them pouring bleach into his shampoo.

‣Big mistake.

‣S/o is cornered and Law knows exactly what they were doing-even if they try to come up with an excuse he knows what bleach looks like and he knows what they were planning. Since he caught them they can’t even try to shift the blame onto somebody else either.

‣Somehow s/o manages to get past them and while he won’t run after them there’s not too many places they can run and hide on a submarine. Plus they’re currently docked in the middle of the ocean so they can’t run off onto an island or anything like that. What he didn’t expect is to see them crawling over the railing when he finally got out onto the sub’s deck.

‣Tries to swap them using devil fruit and does manage to swap them with Penguin but they just jump right back into the ocean and swim a good four feet away from the sub just to be safe.

‣Law will very calmly tell them to get back on the submarine. If they ignore him he will warn them one more time before ordering everybody inside and before going in himself he’ll wish s/o luck and tell them next time they should find a different victim.

‣S/o is like okay so what he’s just going to lock me out of the sub for a bit that’s fine? And then the submarine submerges leaving s/o out in the open water with nowhere to go. Law’s made sure not to submerge too much because he wants s/o to be able to see the it from where they are but it’s not like they could open the hatch even if they did swim down to the sub.

‣Law will not initiate but he will retaliate.

‣When he finally does order Bepo to surface s/o is wrinkly and angry but all this considered it’s their fault for jumping into the sea.

‣Law will very smugly ask them what they learned, warn them not to do it again, and tell them they owe him new shampoo-not that s/o really cares about that last bit.

‣If s/o did manage to pull off the prank and he did wind up bleaching his hair he probably would’ve left them out like that overnight.

Kid

‣Kid has a complicated relationship with pranks because he wont ever bother pulling them himself, and he hates when people try to pull them on him but he enjoys watching others get pranked because he likes watching them squirm.

‣All crew members know that their captains off limits when it comes to pranks and all but his s/o follow that rule. Of course s/o is smart about pranking him though because see...Kid will prank himself if given the right instruments.

‣This particular prank took place shortly after the crew left an island and s/o just happened to buy several extremely hot peppers that looked identical to bell peppers.

‣Really they weren’t planning on pranking Kid but when he walks out and sees Wire and s/o eating bell peppers-he’s a little confused even more so because his fire breather is sweating and fanning his mouth while his s/o is sitting there with what is probably the most smug expression he’s ever seen. So of course he asks what’s happening and when Wire explains it he snatches one of the (hot) peppers and takes a mouthful out of it only to start breathing fire himself.

‣His mouth is on fire, his eyes are watering, his lips feel like they’re swelling and even though he didn’t swallow-it still feels like his throats on fire and while all of this is happening s/o is cracking up on the ground now because they didn’t plan this but it’s perfect until of course Kid regains some composure and grabs the pepper s/o was eating only to find it’s a normal fucking bell pepper.

‣”I’ll fucking kill you right now.”

‣As quickly as he spat out that pepper s/o is out of the room and running for the deck. Kid’s activating his quirk trying to hold them back by the metal on their belt, he’s throwing anything he can their way all while shouting a plethora of threats that even s/o hasn’t heard before.

‣In their absolute terror they just decide to jump off the ship and into the sea, the only issue with this is he can still launch any large metal objects he had on the ship at them and shoot at them-which yeah he’s aiming to miss but getting shot at is never not scary espically when the one shooting at you is your partly deranged pirate boyfriend.

‣Kid will probably try to jump overboard to strangle them himself-fuck the fact he can’t swim. He’ll kill them while they’re trying to keep him above water and then somebody else can jump ship and drag them back on deck after.

‣He won’t just let them stay in the water and he won’t leave them behind so he’ll order Killer to get them back on ship. He gets really childish at this point. He’ll steal their food, bump into them(not crazy hard but enough to knock them back) and when they do dock on island they won’t be allowed to leave the ship. He’ll also assign them all and any chores he can-everybody else is ecstatic about that.

‣He won’t forgive them so much as he’ll just forget about it-or he’ll get horny and just be like yeah that’s more important.

#one piece imagine #one piece headcanons #marco the phoenix #Marco imagine #law #trafalgar law #law imagine #kid #eustass kid #eustass kid imagine

[howdyhowdyyalls]

Where One Story Should End, Another Begins

Okay y’all strap in, my first actual series (instead of just one shots lol) has only been on Wattpad so far but I’m bringing her to Tumblr. Anyone who knows me knows I’m a psych major with my own mental health struggles and Wade Wilson as a comfort character so what the hell, here’s a Wade x reader series with some emotional bits haha. 

Here’s the Wattpad description: You never knew how lost a person could be until you found yourself hanging from the edge of a high-rise building; you also never knew how much life could change from the introduction of a single man. From the day you met on the roof of that building, there has been a connection between you and Wade Wilson. A relationship consisting of a lot of confusion, some anger, and maybe even love. 

Sidenote, several chapters are already out on Wattpad but I think I’ll space out the posts on Tumblr lol, but here’s chapter one! Also, Wade’s personality and healing factor here is based more on the original comic character than the movie interpretation (Meaning he’s slightly less vulgar and feels the full pain of his injuries. They still heal, but he also still feels all the pain until they do. Also, I love Ryan Reynolds’s interpretation, I’m just sticking more to the comics for these purposes.)

 I really hope people will take the time to read this and let me know what you think

Warnings (These will be chapter by chapter, not for the whole series): suicide, depression, swearing, blood mention

Word Count: 2,076

Fuck this. You'd had enough.

As you walked down the street to the highest building in the blocks surrounding your apartment, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the right thing to do. You'd put up with too much pain for too long and you were ready to make it stop once and for all. You'd thought this through very well. You knew what you were about to do, and you were ready. So, you entered the building (a hotel, you believed) and took the elevator up as high as it would go. Your hands were shaking as the pads of your fingers clamored for the cold buttons, but now was not the time to get cold feet.

You had to do this.

The elevator opened on the roof of the building, which served as a nice patio for hotel residents to relax on. Ironic, you thought, that you'd be flinging yourself to your death from a resort that was designed to be a place of relaxation and calmness. Regardless, you pressed on to the railing of the building, looking down at the massive drop before you.

26 stories- enough to kill anyone. It was even more intimidating in person than you imagined, but as you looked down the treacherous drop to the alley below, you waited in vain for the sense of terror that you'd been expecting. This view was enough to scare the living hell out of anyone; perhaps more worrying than the drop itself was the fact that it didn't scare you. Instead, a bizarre sense of peace came over you. Soon, the pain would be gone. Just the thought of that was inviting enough for you to firmly grip the railing and carefully swing your legs over so that you were now on the opposite side, clinging on to the building by just  a few thin bars. You stood there for a moment, gathering your thoughts as you willed your breathing to steady. 

You were ready.

"You don't want to do that."

The voice from behind you startled you so much that you almost fell off on accident. You were careful to quickly replace the look of surprise on your face with one of annoyance. With your hands still tightly on the railing, you slightly turned to glance out of the corner of your eye to see who the hell would also happen to be on the roof of a 26 story building at 2:30 AM. Once you caught sight of the figure though, you turned more fully to take a second look. You could make out the silhouette of a person sitting in the dark corner of the roof patio; you hadn't noticed him earlier because he was sitting just behind the door you'd come from. The stranger was entirely disguised by a red suit with black accents, and judging by the voice and body shape, a man. His suit was designed such that you couldn't see a single bit of skin, including his face- the eyes on the mask were completely whited out, giving him an eerie appearance. Your eyes trailed down from the mask to the rest of him to notice... weapons? Fuck, now that you looked closely, there were at least two pistols on him, and you could see what appeared to be the hilt of a knife poking out of the top of his boots.

"I really need to find a better way of entering a conversation, don't I? Been trying to think of a catchphrase, haven't come up with anything yet," he babbled; you weren't even sure if he was talking to himself or to you.

"...What? Who... who do you think you are, telling me what I want? Just- Never mind. Leave me alone," You snapped. You hadn't planned to even talk to the man, but you also hadn't expected him to make such a silly comment, given the situation. It caught you off guard a bit, so you turned from him to focus on the task at hand. This weirdo was not going to ruin this for you.

"Ouch. Just tryin' to help." He sounded strangely calm and unbothered by the fact that you were literally hanging off the edge of a building, poised to jump- he spoke with the ease of someone making small talk at a bus stop.

"Just FYI, that thing they say about dying from falling being painless is total bullshit. You don't faint in the air, and even though you die on impact with the ground, you still feel all the pain in the world, just for a second. Trust me, it's the worst." He said this with a slightly more earnest tone than anything else thus far, but his nonchalant vibe didn't falter. Even though you couldn't see him, you could still hear him moving behind you, even over the chaotic orchestra of city sounds below you. From his footsteps, you could tell he was standing now and walking around, likely towards you.

"What... what the hell are you talking about?" You finally caved and inquired more of his seemingly deranged mumbling.

"Take it from me, it's not a good way to go," he stated matter of factly. This earned him another glance from you, which he noticed and he returned the stare to you, now standing several meters away. At least... you think he was looking at you. It was dark, and with the mask you couldn't see his eyes whatsoever.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but clearly you're insane. Just fuck off, okay? Leave me alone," you barked at him, desperately wishing this maniac to leave so you could just do what you came to do and die in peace. Though... the longer you stood there listening to him ramble, the more you were able to take in your surroundings. The tears had slowly stopped, likely because you simply had no more to cry. Now with a slightly more clear head, you were able to take in the true height at which you clung to the railing. The breeze threatening to pluck you from the structure was somehow both inviting and terrifying. You'd thought this through well, you had everything sorted out so that you can finally die and die in peace... but the stranger's words lingered in your head. What if it did hurt...

You were very abruptly ripped from your thoughts at the realization that the man was now standing a mere few feet from you, leaning against the railing you clung to, just on the opposite side.

"Jesus! Didn't you hear me? I said to fuck off!" you snapped even more sharply this time, willing anger to hide your fear from this whack job who had no right to be here in the first place. You'd thought through and planned for many things surrounding your suicide, but this certainly was not one of them. 

"Yeah, I heard you. Just 'cause I heard you doesn't mean I have to listen. Same for you. You can completely ignore me and jump if you want. But I'm kinda sensing there's a reason you haven't let go yet..." He mumbled. A wave of emotions came over you at his words. First confusion, then anger at him for barging into your affairs and presuming to know anything about anything.

"Because you're freaking me out. Don't make me say it again- fuck. off." You hissed. Weird... even though he still wore a mask and you couldn't make out even the slightest expression on his face, his silence carried a strange somberness to it, making you feel just the slightest twinge of guilt, so you very quietly added, "Please. I've had enough.. not just with you, with everything. I've thought this out well. I know what I'm doing. I know this is what needs to be done. Just, please, leave me be." The man seemed to be able to hear the cracks in your voice, much like the cracks in a dam, sealing away an ocean of emotion and pain that you fought so desperately to hold back. You were doing this so as to rid others of the burden you put on them. This man- whoever this bizarre stranger was- didn't need or deserve to be burdened by you either. When he still didn't respond, you looked up at him; after only several minutes of conversing, you could already infer that silence was uncommon with this one and that it must mean he is actually thinking. You also noticed that he'd shifted a bit closer to you now, close enough that you might be able to reach out and touch him.

"Yeah, but I'm here now. And I know it might've sounded like a joke, but I was serious when I said I knew what it felt like. Physically and emotionally. I've been through this whole shit show before but from your side, except there was no one there to try and stop me. Not that it would've worked anyways. I know what it's like to feel like there's no other option. I know I can't stop you, too. All I can do is tell you what I know, and that is that you're about to make a huge mistake. Come back over here with me and let's talk about this, preferably when you aren't quite literally clinging to life."

You hesitated for a moment, but soon frustration boiled within you again, angry with yourself this time for even considering his offer. When you didn't respond, he continued to speak.

"Well, if you won't join me-" he began, firmly holding the railing and swinging his legs over to your side, "then I guess I'll join you," he grinned, making you realize just how much of a madman he must be.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get back, leave me alone!" You screamed at him this time, your entire body trembling from adrenaline. Anywhere else, you'd probably have shoved the freak, but now definitely wasn't the time. He just looked out at the skyscrapers surrounding you, then his gaze landed on you once more.

"Beautiful out, isn't it?" He gestured broadly to the city skyline with one hand, but when his hand was towards you, he very suddenly snatched your wrist with an iron grip, tethering you to him and to the building and earning a gasp from you.

"What the fuck?! HELP! Someone-" You panicked now. Suicide seemed like an okay option when you were the one in control, but now that your life was in the hands of this stranger, fear flooded your body. You wanted to try and pry his hand off of you but if you let go with your other hand to do so, you really would fall.

"No one can hear us up here, sweetheart. I didn't want to have to do this but I'm not letting you die on my watch. Will you please come back over the railing with me? I'm asking ever so politely." You honestly couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it was now or never. You turned your head to face him and tried to apologize, but your voice was too weak and no words came out. Instead, you mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' with tears in your eyes as you took a deep breath and let go with both hands.

What happened next was almost incomprehensible, and it happened so fast that you didn't even know what happened at first. When you should've been falling to your death, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and lift you hard, throwing you over the railing back onto the patio with a painful thud against the concrete. As you looked up, you realized with absolute horror that the man was no longer there- he must've lost his balance and fallen in an effort to save you. You scrambled to your feet as fast as you could and dashed over the the edge of the building, terrified to look down but you knew you had to. His death was on you now.

However, what you saw when you glanced down was somehow even more heart-stopping than the knowledge that he fell.

The man was a crippled mess, laying in a massive pool of blood. What made you dizzy though is what happened next.

He had plummeted twenty-six stories to the ground.

And he waved back up to you. 

#marvel #fanfic #fanfiction #wade wilson #smut #fluff #angst #depression #suicide #tw #writing #deadpool #dead pool #x reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #romance #friendship

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Hi! I love your writing! Can you maybe write companions reacting to Shaun calling them mom/dad, maybe when theyre in trouble (like raiders attacking their settlement/home)? Have a good day!

Cait:

“Yeah! Get them mama!”

Had she not been any better with her reflexes, the little boy’s words may have ended up landing her missing a few teeth. There just so happened to be a raider dumb enough to try to break into your little home, so naturally..Cait goes in for the swinging once she made sure they didn’t have a gun on them.

With one final swift punch to the invaders head, Cait seized victory once again- and yet..all she could think about was the way that the child calling her that made her feel. She probably wouldn’t even outwardly acknowledge it- but once it was just the two of you in your own privacy, she’d confess that she was terrified.

Curie:

“Hey mom, do you need any help with the labs today? It looks really neat- I bet you could teach me all kinds of stuff.”

The second she heard what the little boy said, her heart swelled 10x in size just from pure joy. “Well of course you can, just make sure to wear the proper safety equipment, sweetheart.” She’d respond, giving Shaun a pair of safety glasses and wearing one of the sweetest, most proudest grins ever imaginable upon her face.

Danse:

Even though he wasn’t really a light sleeper, Danse had the ability to wake up as soon as someone entered the room. This was of course true when your son nudged the door open, his blanket slung messily over his shoulder and his eyes wide.

Once he realized who it was, Danse relaxed the slightest bit. “What’s wrong, Shaun?” He’d ask with a voice ladened with a hefty sleepiness.

“I-I’m scared, Dad. I had a nightmare and it- it just seemed..*sniffle*..it seemed so real.”

Suddenly the sleep would be knocked right of Paladin when his mind caught on to what the small child just said. Him? Dad?

Blinking away the shock, Danse tilted his head toward your peacefully sleeping body. “Here, come see son.” He’d urge with a yawn, waiting for the little boy to climb between you and him. Once snug, he’d then wrap his arm around the both of you.

Just when had he become so lucky?

Deacon:

“You’re really the best, Dad.”

Upon hearing such a bold assertion from the child, Deacon would stand in pause for just a mere moment. Chills would race up and down his spine as he stared down at the wondrously kind eyes lovingly peering back up at him. As much as he desired to keep looking back, a smirk would ghost his lips- thankfully he was able to concoct a little bullshit response on the fly.

“Yeah, ya ain’t too bad yourself either kiddo. You take after your dad.” He’d affectionately tease back, patting the child on the shoulder.

Gage:

If there was one thing that kids were, Gage learned that they were inquisitive little shits. Your own child was a testament to that statement. Just when Gage thought he could relax, up comes Shaun with an array of questions ready to shoot.

“Pa, why do you wear an eyepatch? Did something happen or are you just saving that eye’s strength?”

Gage coughed whenever he realized what Shaun used as his opener. Nuka-cola spurted from the raider’s nose, causing him to sputter as he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Come again?” He’d ask with one huge green eye, trying not to cough a lung up in the process.

He was happy though, even if he might’ve killed himself choking on nuka-cola.

Hancock:

It was honestly alerting to see how shocked he was that this happened. He knew goodneighbor was no place for his son but..he never expected this to happen. While down at the third rail, some deranged man came down demanding money- pulling out a gun as he spoke.

“Papa, please...are we going to be okay?” Shaun’s terrified eyes bore straight into the ghoul’s very soul, making his heart break despite how happy he should’ve felt after hearing those words.

Putting a hand atop the boy’s shoulder, Hancock made sure to keep both of their bodies below the table. “Of course we are kiddo, you just sit here and don’t make a sound.”

And with that, Hancock would spring up and shoot his way to safety- he had to. His son was there after all.

Macready:

Having two little boys in the house was already bad enough. Having two of them similar in age and just as troublesome as each other? Whew, it was an understatement to say that you and Mac had your plates full.

Luckily with his experience, things weren’t entirely hectic. Just like now..

You had managed to come home right on time to catch Mac mid-scolding. His hat nearly falling from his head as he cashed his gaze down at the pouting children in front of him .

“I don’t care how much fun it is, you two can’t go around spooking the neighbors. That’s the best way to get shot, for fu-..for Pete’s sake.” You couldn’t barely hold in your chuckle at your lover’s choice of words, since when had he become so dramatic?

“Sheesh, chill dad..” Shaun spoke, dismissing his adoptive father with a wave of his hand before he and Duncan promptly ran off- leaving a completely dumbfounded Mac to sit and process what just happened.

Did his two sons really just dismiss him like that? Did Shaun...did Shaun just call him dad?

Maxson:

It was all Maxson had wanted. This feeling of belonging..it was amazing. It was something that even the brotherhood and all it’s devoted members couldn’t provide him.

“Hey Dad, you alright?” Shaun’s little voice pierced through Arthur in a way that wasn’t at all painful, yet somehow hit him like a freight train.

It was then that Maxson realized he had been staring, jaw hanging. “W-what? No, I mean..yes, yes I’m alright Shaun. Is everything okay?” Real smooth, don’t worry, Arthur promptly begins to beat himself up over it.

Though confused, Arthur was so, so very happy.

Nick:

“Da, are you coming or what?”

Immediately, Nick assumed he had overheated. Surely there was no possible way Shaun was calling him...no. Blinking a few times, one could even hear the low whir of his servos fire up as he tried to process what just happened. Once he finally realized that yes, that was indeed reality- a huge smile would grace the synth’s face in response. In an attempt not to “lose his cool”, Nick would just simply nod and follow along- replaying the entire thing in his head over and over again.

Old Longfellow:

He had expected “Grandpa” before he got a “dad” out of the little boy, if he even got that! Honestly he didn’t expect much, he loved the kid but..come on, he’s some old man kissing up on the child’s mama/papa. With that being said, for the first time in quite a while, joy like sparklers- erupted all throughout the old man’s body whenever Shaun tugged his coat one rainy day and-

“Can I please come with you, pa? I’ll need to learn how to fix those condensers up one day anyways!”

Piper:

Piper, of all people, didn’t really think she’d be so happy being so..so domestic. Not a single article written, not a single story hunted down for the day or anything- just family time. Just you, her, Nat, and Shaun.

Much like your day, the night also consisted of this calmness. Only coming to an end whenever it was officially bed time.

“I love you ma, good night.” Shaun sleepily muttered, turning around in the process so he could get comfortable and ready to sleep.

That was probably for the best, for as soon as she heard those magical little words, Piper’s eyes welled with tears without warning- only spilling whenever she was back in the comfort of her own room with you at her side.

Preston:

“Pa, are you sure you and mom won’t be gone for too long?”

The words stopped Preston dead in his tracks. Yes, it was his duty as your lieutenant- and your own as General, to respond to distress calls whenever they were made..so that unfortunately left your poor son in the care of your other companions more often than you’d like- more so, more than Preston would care for.

It was things like this that made him consider retiring all together.

Turning around, Preston would kneel down in front of the child, happiness shining in a luminous way within his dark eyes. “I..I promise you that we’ll be back before you even miss us, son.”

“Impossible, I miss you and mama already.”

Sturges:

“Dad, I’m scared..”

The very second he heard the little boy trembling in his arms whisper, the synth man felt cold fear flow through his veins. Raiders, always fucking raiders.

It was normal at this point for them to show up every now and then, usually you’d just chase them off with your flashy guns and whatnot- and you were doing that- but while you were out being the hero, it was Sturges prime duty to ensure shaun’s safety. As such, he’d take the little boy to their usual hiding spot and try to get him to be quiet...but that? That was enough to make him want to personally go out there and rip a raiders head off. How dare they scare his..his son?

“Shhh, I’ve gotcha little buddy..you just hang in tight.”

X6-88:

(I honestly don’t see how this could happen with Shaun in particular- even with the whole au I use with Maxson and Shaun dynamics- Shaun would still know X6 as that cool dude that teleported him back and forth.)

-sorry this took so long, hope you liked it.

#fallout #fallout 4 #paladin danse #fo4 companions #fallout companions #elder maxson #danse #porter gage #curie #arthur maxson #brotherhood of steel #cait #deacon #hancock #macready #fo4 #nick valentine #nuka world #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 88 #fallout 4 companions

[yezielmoore]

Day 12: Extra Credit.

Wait, what it that noise? Oh look, it's canon falling off the rails, whoops!

Kaito's extra bits of the Echo is fantasy synesthesia, with a dash of empathy. When someone talks or makes noise he sees that as colors that best represent their soul. Much less intense is the flavors he tastes that he asociates with each person he meets and change sligthly with strong feelings.

~.~.~

Prompt: Adversary.

n. one that contends with, opposes, or resists: an enemy or opponent.

He isn’t sure what he's seeing and tasting at first, in those first weeks after being dropped off in Limsa Lominsa by Hana, who was deep blue and pink with bursts of yellow and whose words tasted like that green tea from her homeland. He still remembers the bitter tang her parting words left in his tongue, the same he tasted each and every time she checked on him while pretending she was doing other, more important, things and he was a pit-stop.

Hana had been terribly confusing.

It takes him a while to figure out the basics beyond see and taste words and sounds. He realizes that people are palettes and no two persons have the same color combination or hue, it is as good as having a personal ID on everyone he meets. He doesn't figure out the taste for the longest time, not until Ifrit, when those tempered went… wrong. Their colors smothered under the same hue as the primal and all their individual flavors taking on the same sweet/rotten tang. It had been incredibly disturbing and disconcerting at the time, but be had put together a theory afterwards.

Even so, he hadn't realized this strange ability of his was anything to write home about. So he can see sounds, what of it? It's not very useful, now is it? In identifying those tempered, sure, but unless someone pulls a switcheroo, why would it matter?

'Why indeed', he thinks wryly as he enters the Solar in the Walking Sands and stops dead in his tracks, eyes immediately zeroing on the anomaly in their midst.

“My friend, welcome…” Minfilia greets him with her customary warm smile, which falters when she sees his expression. “Is aught amiss?”

“Yes, yes there is,” Kaito says calmly, far more calm than he feels. He prowls forwards, eyes fixed unerringly on Thancred, who raises an eyebrow in a wordless question. “Let’s start easy with the easy question. Who the fuck are you?”

Around this strange stand-off the other scions, already worried at his uncharacteristically hostile actions, all tense in alarm. They are uncertain and he can't really blame them. Fond of him as they are, Thancred has been one of them for much, much longer. However, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to him, they trust him a lot more than he would have dared believe, newcomer that he is. It’s for this reason that they don’t immediately jump on him, choosing instead a watch and see approach.

For his part, Thancred's eyes widen at the accusation, the shock in his expression completely genuine. He has caught the interloper by surprise it seems, but instead of the worry and alarm that Kaito would expect Thancred to betray in the face of an accusation such as this, all he sees behind the façade is an icy cold and shrewd intelligence that is now entirely focused on him. He can practically feel those eyes dissecting him and rapidly reassessing the situation. It’s unnerving on the extreme.

Not that the real Thancred isn’t smart and sharp as a tack, he's definitely one of the smartest people Kaito knows, and he can be ruthless, certainly, but Thancred isn’t cold like this. If the minute shuffling and the taste of stale dark chocolate on his tongue is anything to go by, then Y'shtola has also noticed the discrepancy.

“Now, why would you think that?” ‘Thancred’ asks with a worried air about him and a shake of his head. “Did you perchance have some peculiar encounter on your travels? I wouldn’t put it past our robed foes to concoct something while you were on your own.”

The words confirm it. Like will-o'-wisps, they paint the air around 'Thancred' with colors… a fiery red crossed with bright orange and stabbed everywhere with a deep virulent purple. It is utterly unlike the warm pink, orange and soft yellow threaded with cool blue that Kaito has come to associate with Thancred, either a sunrise or a sunset, constant all the same. Everything about the stranger's colors is more, somehow, deeper and richer. Saturated to the point of provoking a headache.

As the wisps fade away, they leave behind a strong aftertaste of burnt sugar. Kaito clicks his tongue, as if that would serve to dislodge the sensation.

This… ability or whatever, it isn’t something Kaito has thought too deeply about, not when other matters had been so pressing at the time. He should have given the matter more consideration. At the very least he should have given his allies a heads up, because he probably is coming off as addled if not deranged to everyone minus the imposter who is probably laughing at him.

"Aye, but unlike Thancred I was never on my own, was I? I was surrounded by people all the time and then I hitched a ride with the aetherytes in between. Unless you're suggesting our foes can pluck people from the aether currents, then I don’t see how I could've had a tête-à-tête with them." He glares at the other man who has the gall to look disturbed. Everyone else is still on edge and Kaito knows, knows, they’ll run out of patience soon. He can only hope the intruder is as short-sighted as the other robed fool they met. "The difference is like day and night; you look nothing like Thancred."

Finally, for some reason, it is this what makes the stranger drop the charade. His alert but not-quite-tense posture changes and the bewildered air around him immediately morphs into one of utter menace. It's like seeing a housecat shed its skin and turn into a chimera while sitting on your lap.

The scions, who had remained guarded but made no move for or against the proceedings, immediately ready their weapons, the sounds exploding in a rainbow of colors that is strangely calming in their familiarity. It's Urianger, ever watchful and cautious Urianger, that gently tugs a shocked and vulnerable Minfilia closer to him, a topaz carbuncle bursting into existence in front of them both at his silent command.

Kaito's axe, always close at hand, is now drawn and pointed at the enemy wearing a friend's face.

“Well, well, well, color me impressed.” This time the wisps don’t just float around, they practically lash out, glowing so violently that for a moment Kaito is afraid they will gain tangibility and wreck everything. He gags as the taste of burnt sugar turns into sweet charcoal. “That one of you broken creatures could have such an unusual Echo in this pitiful age. Hydaelyn’s chosen, no less!” With liquid grace, not-Thancred stalks closer until his chest is touching Kaito’s axe, seemingly unconcerned about the threat. “Tell me, adventurer, do you really think you can stop me?”

Kaito grits his teeth against the sensory overload and the headache that pounds away inside his skull, a retort full of bravado already on his tongue. Before he can answer, however, a fireball whizzes past his ear, forcing not-Thancred to retreat.

“It’s not just him you have to contend with, fiend,” Papalimo warns, coffee cookies washing away the rage and death that choked him before. Aether gathers and swirls around the thaumaturge as he prepares another spell. A spell that never comes as Yda takes the opening her partner gave her and uses it to land an impressive combo full of punches and kicks that would have broken bones on any normal man.

Unfortunately, whoever this impostor is, normal he is not.

Disappearing and then reappearing closer to the door, he looks at each of the scions until his gaze zeroes once more on Kaito.

“So it seems,” he acknowledges with a bored air that is simply galling and has all of them bristling without meaning to. “Enjoy your futile resistance while you can then.”

“Wait!” Minfilia cries out from behind the protection the combatants provided. She’s pale and her knuckles are white from clutching the edge of her desk. “Is Thancred… What did you do to him?!”

Not-Thancred smirks. It’s an expression that has always been at home in Thancred’s face, fond and mischievous and always a bit flirty, but right now is full of malice. “Who knows.”

And then he is gone.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #kaito seaborn #yeziel writes #my writing

[wolveria]

Unable to perceive the shape of you - Ch. 8

Pairing: Connor x f!Reader x Nines

Summary: After breaking the RK twins out of the MarineLife facility, you were determined to return them to the ocean before getting caught by your employer.

What you hadn’t counted on were the brothers deciding you belonged to them.

Prompt: Mermay! (Shape of Water/Splash AU)

Chapter Warnings: Violence, misogynistic language, blood, gore, death

Word Count: 3k

AO3

You only got a few hours of sleep before you were on the road again, the sun not yet peaking up over the horizon. The plan was to make it well into Canada by the end of the day. Crossing the border would involve a lot of swimming and leaving your car behind.

You would miss it, and you’d have to find a way to let your family know you were okay before disappearing, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager to start your new life with the two people who had changed it so completely.

After digging through your car supply kit to find some meal bars to snack on, you listened to Connor talk excitedly about your future plans.

The future, a funny thing. For the first time in your life, you weren’t dreading the uncertain path before you, and that more than anything told you this was what you were meant to do.

You were both in the backseat, Nines having to drive again as your legs were an aching mess from the activities of the night before. You didn’t regret it but your body was sure complaining now. It wasn’t just your legs that hurt, almost every muscle in your body was aching, and a part of you wondered how you’d ever keep up with their stamina.

You were looking forward to finding out.

“And then, perhaps we can purchase some kind of boat,” Connor continued on, eyes bright as he continued to chatter. “If our pod still swims the same waters, we should be able to find them. We have another brother, you know.”

“Really?” you asked. The small smile on your lips hadn’t disappeared since he’d started talking.

“We’re a set of triplets,” he added with a pleased blush. “Our third brother was more cautious than we were. Said not to go near the fishing boats, but… we didn’t listen.”

His face fell, and as naturally as breathing air you reached across to take his hand in his lap. Recalling when he and Nines had been captured was clearly a painful memory.

Connor immediately perked at the touch, wrapping his long fingers around yours.

“What’s his name?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be able to say it,” Connor said, tilting his head as his smile also went lopsided.

“Humans lack the vocal range to speak our language,” Nines chimed in from the driver’s seat.

When you turned to face him, you could see the headlights illuminating a bridge spanning a river, the sun only now lighting the sky. He had to slow down because it was only two lanes and was made of little more than wood and metal.

Nines himself seemed at ease, the first time you’d ever seen him that way. Ever since last night, he was freer with giving affection and less stiff and aloof. Something had changed within him, but perhaps the same could be said of all three of you.

“And if we tried to speak it above water,” Nines continued, “all we would accomplish would be shattering your car windows.”

You looked to Connor just to be sure Nines wasn’t teasing you again. That’s when you saw the bright stripe of light across his face; his eyes narrowed against the glare of the headlights behind your car.

They grew brighter, increasing in intensity until the white light filled the car.

“What—“

Glass imploded from the rear windshield as you were thrown forward against your seatbelt. Screeching metal and churning tires deafened as the vehicle behind rammed the hatchback door a second time.

“Nines!”

You didn’t know what you were yelling for him to do. There was nothing to do. The tires skidded across wet pavement as your car began to jackknife, pushed from the other larger vehicle toward the bridge railing.

Connor threw his arms around you and braced for the impact.

Everything was a blur after the trailing vehicle hit a third time. Deafening crunches of rubber and metal, the dizzying, floating feeling as the car fell several feet, landed, and rolled down the embankment toward the river.

The agony of each impact, the terror of being so completely helpless as the car rolled again and again. You couldn’t think or move besides clinging to Connor as shattered glass rained down on both of you.

When the world stopped spinning, you could barely breathe. The inside of the car was slowly filling with smoke, and the seatbelt cut across your chest as you hung limp from your seat.

You tried to raise your dangling arms to feel for your restraint. Couldn’t lift your arms high enough. Your limbs and muscles wouldn’t cooperate and you couldn’t even focus your eyes enough to understand the chaos around you.

You heard confused voices, the sound of creaking metal, and then hands were unbuckling you from your seat and carefully pulling you from the car. Those same hands held you against a broad chest, and you pressed against it weakly.

“Is she all right?” one of the voices said, soft and hushed. Cold raindrops splattered against your face and you let out a weak groan.

“Yes. Just dazed,” the second one, deeper and flatter, responded.

There was something you had to tell them. Something very important.

The car… it hadn’t been a car… It was a truck. Ford F-150. White. Michigan plates.

“…Con…”

“I’m here.”

You tried to speak but you erupted into violent coughing, the lingering acrid smoke in the air irritating your throat. Nines carried you further away from the car crash, but you couldn’t tell where you were. It was still too dark to see past the broken headlights of your own car.

Where was it? Where was the truck?

You had to tell them—

“Stop struggling!” Nines growled when you thrashed in his arms, your coughing fit growing worse. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“I think she wants you to put her down,” Connor said, dark eyes wide as he took in the state of your struggling.

That wasn’t what you wanted, and when Nines lowered your feet to the ground, you clung to his shoulders with the desperation of a drowner.

“He’s…” You coughed again, gagged at the irritation crawling up your throat. “He’s… here… Run…”

Nines frowned. “Who’s here?”

White headlights blazed against the three of you from the dark, lighting up the service road where your car had finally come to a stop rolling down the embankment.

Nines and Connor flinched and tried to shield their eyes with their hands, but you stared past Nines’ arm, recognizing the row of floodlights on top of the cabin of the truck.

Only one bastard drove a monstrosity like that.

“Looky here.”

Boots crunched over wet rocks and gravel as a hated and familiar silhouette cut against the glittering rain dancing before the lights.

“Fish-girl and her two slimy pets.”

Nines spun, baring his teeth in a snarl as he shoved you behind him.

The report of a gun and the flash from a muzzle immediately followed. Nines staggered back against you.

You tried to hold him up, not understanding—

Gavin fired the gun again, and Nines crumpled to the ground.

You stared at the figure at your feet, rooted to the spot, but not Connor. With an inhuman cry, he bolted toward Gavin, and was rewarded with a bullet shot through his thigh and upper chest.

Watching Connor collapse into a heap at Gavin’s feet jolted you out of your paralysis. There was no sense to what you did, no planning as you rushed forward on numb legs. All you wanted was to tear your nails through Gavin’s eyes and make him suffer, make him bleed, make him scream.

Gavin sidestepped your attack and slung his arm around your neck, effectively pulling you into a headlock against his chest as he held the pistol to the side of your head.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, clearly enjoying himself as he turned so you could see both brothers lying on the ground. “You’re not getting off that easy. You and Flipper.”

He gestured at Connor, his loathsome voice speaking right into your ear.

“It’s worth a small fortune, you know. Shame I had to damage it, but… I didn’t ruin the parts they want, anyway.”

Gavin laughed, a mean sound that made you struggle harder.

Nines lifted his head clumsily, as if he didn’t have the strength to quite do it. You could have sobbed seeing he was still alive, but the blue liquid pooling under his chest was an alarming amount. It mixed with the rain as it came down harder, drenching the world and making it colder.

“Now, Free Willy over there...” Gavin tsked through his teeth. “That fucker’s too dangerous to haul back. A body will do just fine.”

He lifted his service pistol toward Nines.

You immediately bit down on his aiming shoulder, able to wiggle out of his hold for a brief moment of distraction.

The fired shot missed, sparking the ground next to Nines’ head.

“Fuck!”

You dug your teeth in even as Gavin cut off your air.

“Son of a bitch!”

He managed to tear you from his arm and toss you to the ground. The shock traveled up your knees and legs, but you ignored it and lunged for Gavin again.

He backhanded you across the face so hard you saw stars behind your eyelids and tasted iron in your mouth. You staggered backward and almost fell, but managed to keep your feet as Gavin descended on you.

“You filthy, fucking slut!”

He looked deranged, soaked in the rain and his eyes wide and furious.

“Spread your legs for a couple of fish but wouldn’t give me the time of fucking day! Is that it!”

You cried out and struggled to get away when he reached out and grabbed a fistful of your rain-soaked hair.

“Don’t you fuckin’ worry,” he snarled with a shake of his hand as you felt some of the roots of your hair tear from you scalp. “I’ve got lots of time from here to Detroit to teach you a fuckin’ lesson.”

Finger still clamped onto your hair, Gavin dragged you back toward his truck. You screamed and dug your fingernails into the back of his hand, but it was like he didn’t even feel it. He barely even seemed human.

He’d pulled you halfway to his truck before he shouted, his hand jerked away from your head as he was tackled to the ground.

Connor, bleeding and snarling, bit and tore his nails into Gavin as they rolled on the ground. The gun was knocked from Gavin’s hand and skidded across the gravel.

You dashed for the gun and grabbed it, desperate and shaky, and when you raised it toward them they were both locked in a heated fight. You couldn’t pull the trigger without fear of hitting Connor.

You didn’t know if the water running down your face was rain or tears, your breath hitching in your throat as you screamed. “Connor, get away from him!”

Connor looked up, saw the pistol in your hands, and scrambled away from the bleeding, raging man.

You depressed the trigger but Gavin was faster. Lying on his back, he jabbed a hand down to his waistband and pulled something out, pointed it at you, and fired.

The boom was much louder than the service pistol. But you barely heard it, barely heard anything, past the blooming agony in your gut and the sudden lack of strength in your legs.

You collapsed onto your knees, the gun dangling from your fingertips as you struggled to draw breath. Triumph in his eyes, Gavin rose to his feet and aimed the revolver toward your head.

Before he could fire a second time, a figure low to the ground grabbed him around the ankle and bit into his calf.

Gavin screamed and tried to kick Nines away, bringing his revolver around, but Connor grabbed his shoulder and bit deep into the side of Gavin’s neck. With a jerk of his head, he tore out a chunk of flesh, and blood spurted from the wound like a cut hose line.

Neither brother stopped for a moment, snarling and ripping into the man with inhuman ferocity, resembling two wolves tearing apart a grizzly even after it had dealt them lethal blows.

Gavin finally dropped to his knees, no longer screaming, his eyes wide and his face bloodless. The brothers only released him after he tumbled the rest of the way to the ground.

Nines didn’t move, either. Motionless, he looked as lifeless as the body next to him.

Connor didn’t look much better. As he wobbled and staggered over to you, you could see the bullet wounds in his chest and leg. Gavin had miscalculated. Even over the rain you could hear the wet, sucking sound of a perforated lung.

You began to fall forward as he drew near, and he caught you at the last second, gently lowering you the rest of the way to the ground. His hands were gentle even as they were slicked with blood.

Wanting desperately to comfort him but unable to speak, with one hand pressed to the seeping mess of your stomach the other searched for his hand. Connor took it and held it, lying down beside you as he pressed his face against your hair.

The strength sapped from your limbs, the world around you faded to a dull, flat noise. The plinking of the rainwater sounded far away, and farther beyond that, another sound.

It was difficult to hear past the sound of Connor’s breath hissing through his clenched teeth. Your mind was solely trying to focus on that sound, but you pushed past it to another. The faint roaring of water.

Nines’ voice, faint and hollow, echoed to you across your memory.

Whatever damage is caused will heal in the water…

Pulling away from Connor, you forced yourself onto one elbow, emitting a strangled whimper as the agony in your gut flamed anew. You pushed past it and rose to your knees.

Connor struggled to keep his wavering gaze on you, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, before they finally slipped closed.

“C… Connor.”

He didn’t respond, and the last rush of adrenaline gave you the strength to grab and tug his arm.

“You have to… get up…”

Connor didn’t respond verbally, but when you put his arm over your shoulder and tried to pull him onto his knees, he managed to cooperate, barely conscious as he was.

Somehow, through the waves of agony coming from your abdomen, you struggled to your feet along with Connor. He wavered as you pulled him forward but you didn’t have any more strength than he did, and you leaned against each other and staggered like two drunks out of a bar.

When you approached the spot where Nines was lying, Connor whined and reached for him.

You kept pulling him forward. Even as your heart was ripped to shreds, especially when Connor continued to whimper as you left his brother behind. You couldn’t stop. If you lost your momentum now, you’d never get Connor to the water.

You didn’t want to think about how it might be too late for Nines. How getting Connor to safety was what he would have wanted. You couldn’t think about any of that. Not while Connor still needed you.

Reaching the bottom of the short embankment to the shoreline, you didn’t fight gravity as you and Connor collapsed onto the sand. He understood what you were doing now, and he crawled the last few inches to the water.

Not wanting him to drown by submerging his head or the gunshot wound to his chest, you helped roll him legs first into the water. The sleek, grey tail rippled down his legs, bursting through his shoes and leaving his pants in tatters.

Connor didn’t move after that, lying on his back as he struggled to breathe, and you wanted to stay just in case…

But the edges of your vision were starting to darken. You didn’t have much time left.

You didn’t bother to try to stand up again; you crawled back to where Nines lay, stopping halfway to wretch and gag, the iron taste lingering in your mouth. You pushed on, your entire world honed in on the figure on the ground, ignoring your torn and bleeding elbows and knees. What were a few more wounds.

By the time you reached him, your breath was uneven and hitching, your abdomen numb and your limbs shivering with cold. You were going to go into shock soon, or had already started, you didn’t know.

For this, you would have to stand up again, and you did it through sheer, panicked desperation. There was nothing outside of that moment except you grabbing Nines’ wrist as tightly as you could as you pulled him back toward the water.

It wasn’t far from where he’d collapsed, only a few feet, but each inch might have been a mile and each footstep the climb up a mountain. You dragged him, your shallow breaths now weak sobs, your chest hurting more than your gunshot wound.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t look past the next step. There was only the weight you pulled behind and the glimmer of rushing water ahead.

You fell to your knees for the last time. Removed your hand from the gut wound so your bloody, shaky fingers could roll Nines the rest of the way into the water. You miscalculated the heavy weight of his body and how fast the river was actually moving, and when the waves grabbed at him and pulled him away, you cried out and reached for him.

Nines disappeared beneath the churning, grey water. All you could do was helplessly watch from where you’d fallen onto your stomach, finger trailing in the water as the last of your strength vanished. The water lapped at your fingers, cleaning them of the dark, purple liquid covering them. A mixture of red and blue.

Letting your eyes drift shut, you let the knowledge that the brothers would never again be caged act as your sole comfort as you surrendered to the cold and the darkness.

Your dying mind clung to one last memory. Something you’d felt many times before and had always brought solace on the bad days. You wanted to feel it again so desperately that you imagined you could actually feel it. The sensation of long, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist and gently pulling you into the water.

And to that too, you surrendered.

Next Chapter

#detroit: become human #detroit become human #connor x reader #nines x reader #rk1700 x reader #mermay #mermaid au #connor #nines #rk800 #rk900 #my writing #my fanfiction

[cobra-diamond]

Hicks and Yang on Azula Fans

Cult.

Upset.

Scary.

Aggressive.

During the 2019 San Diego Comic Con, an Avatar Q&A was held including Michael Dante DiMartino, Gene Yang and Faith Erin Hicks.

One fan asked about the franchise’s plans for Azula. Here is a summarized transcript of the exchange, with my own commentary:

Fan: “Hi, so the comics have shed light on characters who have a lot more of their story to be told after the Finale. I has wondering if you might be able to, if you have any plans for, expanding on a character you’d mentioned before: Azula.”

I can hear the trepidation in this fan’s voice; they can’t just come right out and say it. I know the feeling: should I feel interested in Azula? Will others understand why? Will they accuse me of minimizing her evil and villainy? Am I minimizing her awfulness in the show? Am I even right to want more Azula?

Yang’s answer:

Yang: “I have to say, in my experience with Azula Fans, it has been almost like a cult [crowd erupts in laughter]. Not saying you are!”

Well, actually, Yang, you kind of are.

And you didn’t answer the question.

You know what’s also a cult following? The Princess Bride movie. But was Yang referring to that kind of cult? No, because nobody would think twice about insulting Princess Bride fans by referring to that movie as having a “cult-like” following.

No, Yang was referring to that kind of cult, the one where if you accuse someone of being a member, you are insulting their intelligence and accusing them of borderline nefarious obsession. Yang was referring to the spooky, deranged kind that believes aliens seeded the Earth with Human life and built the pyramids. Only in the case of Azula fans, the original show seeded Azula with humanity and left the door open for a deep, compelling change-and-growth story in the Post-Finale setting.

Hicks’s answer:

Hicks: “I have to say, for the most part, Avatar fans have been just absolutely lovely to me, but I got this scary e-mail from someone who was an Azula fan and was very upset and aggressively demanding that I write her a certain way. I actually had to shut down my e-mail because it unnerved me so much. And it was a little weird because Azula is one of my favorite characters as well, but it made be scared off, perhaps, from writing her in the future.”

God dammit. Hyper-sensitive and impassioned fans are everywhere. This most certainly occurred. Even Bryke have spoken about getting hate mail from jilted fans. At any rate, to anyone reading this, don’t do this. Clearly Hicks doesn’t have the intestinal fortitude to put up with it, neither will it change hers or anyone else’s minds.

Azula’s place in the franchise isn’t where it is because fans haven’t been loud enough; she’s a secondary character and a villain. If they were ever going to expand her non-villain role in the franchise it would have happened a long time ago. As the articles “She’s Completely Crazy!” and Mirror & Misdirection explain, the piss poor handling of her character comes from a much deeper, unchangeable source in the Creators’ minds.

But the first thing that jumps to Hicks’ mind is one instance of hate mail? Telling this fan she is grouped in with someone who is scary, upset and aggressive? And that is enough to scare her off?? Holy shit. Hooooly shit. She better not be tasked with salvaging, or even writing, anything regarding Azula. Someone tasked with writing Azula, I mean really writing Azula, especially after the mess of Smoke & Shadow, needs far more guts than this. She is far too spooked by fans, and the current canon and lack-of-vision of Bryke is only going to infuriate more.

Hicks’s answer continued:

Hicks: “So please be kind to creators. We’re working very hard on licensed properties. I know none of you guys [the crowd] would do this [send hate mail; crowd erupts in laughter]. Um, I love Azula. I think she’s great. I would like to write her. I would like to write more stories. Gene actually left her place in the world very open-ended. I actually loved the way Gene wrote her. I liked Smoke and Shadow a lot. I think that story and where Azula’s journey went was really fascinating to me. So yeah, I would like to write Azula stories. As of right now, I’m writing new Avatar stories, not necessarily about Azula, but maybe someday in the future. Azula fans, please be nice to me. I’m trying my best.”

First of all, nobody cares about Smoke and Shadow. Yes, nobody. Its popularity on Goodreads nose-dived compared to The Promise and The Search. There are parts of it that are okay and likable, but not the work itself. I will give Hicks the benefit of the doubt that she is just going, “Yes, my Emperor! Your clothes are beautiful!” to her naked overlords. Smoke and Shadow was a mess for more than just Azula and an utter train-wreck for Azula. Don’t read much into that comment by her.

She is scared off from writing Azula, but still wants to writer her. Wants to. Whether we get more Azula shouldn’t come from her wanting to, she should have to if that is the plan for the franchise. More evidence that the franchise has no overarching plan for telling compelling stories about these characters. It doesn’t matter if fans know that Azula is destined to become Zuko’s closest advisor. It doesn’t matter if fans know Zuko and Azula reconcile, as implied by generous interpretations of Smoke and Shadow.

Well, duh!!

Of course that’s going to happen. It’s the only logical outcome that is consistent with the themes of the show. Fans don’t want to be told what happens; they already know what has to happen. What fans want is to see HOW it happens. They want to see the journey, and right now the journey is crap, and the franchise doesn’t even appear to know what they even want the destination to be.

This Post-Finale setting, while containing some nuggets of gold when taken out of context, are an unplanned, butchered mess that does far more telling than showing, and the telling it does is half-baked and confusing.

“Licensed properties” is an important key word, however. It reveals the reality that Faith Erin Hicks has guard rails put on her, whereas for us fans, our imaginations are the limit and is not constrained by canon, deadlines or the commercial realities of Avatar.

“Licensed properties” also implies the Creators. While we can think of all the great ways a novelist or a competent manga author could create a sweeping epic about both Azula, the Fire Nation and her ultimate place in the Avatar world, the commercial realities of Avatar might just not allow it: Zuko and Aang are the faces of the franchise, followed by Katara. Everyone else are just secondary characters. As a result, Azula becomes a razor thin eggshell painted to look like a person but is not actually a person because the Creators have neither the time nor inclination to turn her into one.

And lastly, “I’m trying my best” is not a very assuring statement. Once again, more evidence that there is no plan or even “faith” in what they are doing. If these authors have to “try” then they don’t know either their market or their product. They’re hoping fans will like what they come up with versus buckling down and actually figuring out how to tell Avatar stories worthy of Avatar’s reputation.

So remember Azula Fans, or Avatar Fans, if Azula Fans are even counted as Avatar fans, your desire to see a competent, well-written, compelling and emotionally-gripping Azula story makes you part of a:

Upset,

Scary,

Aggressive,

CULT.

Well, they certainly got the first one right.

P.S. Don’t harass Faith Erin Hicks. The situation with the comics and Azula are way above her pay grade. At best, we can learn why.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #atla meta #avatar comics #Azula

[dying-hemlock]

The Figure At First Church of Carnation

“The Figure at First Church of Carnation”

A Story by: Dying-Hemlock

Bart fell silent as the headlights of James’s car illuminated the front door of the church. It was falling apart and held together through a combination of rusty nails and strangler vines, which anchored what remained of the walls to their support posts.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Bart asked.

“You told me you were bored, so I figured we should so do something exciting,’ James said.

“And hanging in a church parking lot is your idea of exciting?” James rolled his eyes, and he turned off the car, putting the keys in the middle console. Bart shot him a look, raising his eyebrows a little.

“Don’t give me that look. Nobody is out here. Nothing is gonna happen to the car.”

Bart rolled his eyes and turned his head towards the church. Somehow it made him feel cold, even with the car slowly heating up from the summer air. He couldn’t place what made him feel this way. It was just an empty church, right? James stepped out of the car, a 2006 Subaru Outback, shut the door and motioned for Bart to do the same. He exited and joined James in the parking lot. Bart let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in when he heard the crickets chirping outside. Hearing something other than the car’s engine helped make the scene before him less creepy.

“James. Really, what are we doing here?” Bart asked. “I don’t need to tell you anything,” James said.

“Well, then you can take me back home.”

James sighed. “Fine. You always have to ruin my surprises, don’t you?”

“Get on with it, or take me back.”

“I heard some kids talking about it while I was waiting tables at Shoney’s last night. Apparently, this place is haunted by some deranged priest who tried hanging some ‘witches’ back in the day and can’t rest till his work is done. I don’t know. It was some bullshit like that,” James said.

“And you seriously believed some story enough to drag me out here?” Bart said.

“You are the one who said you were bored. Be grateful I’m doing something for you.”

Bart crossed his arms and stared at James. After a quick look, James huffed and turned around, walking towards the church. Bart followed and didn’t say a word to James as they approached the building. As he moved closer, Bart began to notice the only sound he could hear was the gravel crunching beneath his boots and that the air had grown unseasonably cold.

“James, I think we should go back.”

James did not respond to Bart as he inspected the door. Unable to find a lock, James took a few steps back and ran, forcing his foot into the door. Bart looked up and gritted his teeth as the structure began to sway.

“James, wait!”

Bart was too late to stop him as James had already started to charge the door again. With a loud crack from the dry wood, the door splintered, a portion of it flying into the chapel. Bart looked up, seeing the building swaying even more now, and pulled James away from the structure as it began to rock even more wildly than before.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Why don’t you take a look, you dumbass?!” James said, pointing at the church. James quieted down when he saw the church’s walls and roof were rocking like the boats down at the town’s marina. Eventually, though the church fell back into place again, the vines that grounded the building still holding firm.

“Don’t try anything like that again,” Bart said.

James shook off Bart and entered the chapel, careful to dodge the large splinters poking out of the now broken door. Bart followed closely behind, holding his breath as he passed through the threshold. When he entered the space behind the door, Bart breathed again as he could see there was not much of a roof present. A few semi-rotted beams still made up the somewhat triangular frame above their heads, but others had fallen down, crushing a few up the pews. There were also large gaps in the shingles as well, making the starry sky visible through them.

“So…” Bart said. “Is there any way to summon this priest or whatever?” “I don’t know. I lost interest in the conversation after they gave me their card. It’s not my job to satisfy them after that,” James said, poking around some of the more complete pews by the altar.

Bart stayed near the back, his hands in his pockets and his muscles tensed. He scanned his eyes around the room, which soon landed on a red book in a pew near him. Intrigued, Bart lowered his shoulders a little and walked to the book, and began flipping through it. It read ‘First Church of Carnation Hymnal.’ It was an old songbook. The pages were yellowed. He could make out a few hymns on some of the pages, “Doxology,’ ‘Mighty Fortress is our God,’ and ‘How Firm A Foundation’ were a few of the titles.

A yell from the other end of the chapel interrupted Bart’s skimming, “Hey, look at me!” James said. “Hear ye, hear ye. You all are going to Hell unless you repent of your sins, you filthy sinners.” James said as if addressing a room full of churchgoers.

James continued on for a little bit before he was interrupted. “You think that’s funny, boy?” a voice said from behind him.

James spun around. A tall and rail-thin man dressed in a black suit looked more like it belonged to a mortician behind him. His black hair was wild and had streaks of gray running through it, and his voice was like sandpaper to Bart and James’s ears as he spoke.

“Do you think that’s funny, boy?” the figure said even louder this time. Bart and James were frozen in their spots. The priest began to approach Bart and repeated his question over and over again. James slowly backed up. He began to sweat heavily as the figure closed the space between them. Bart tried yelling at James to tell him about the window behind him, but his voice wouldn’t work. All that came out was a squeak. As the figure backed James into a corner, Bart dropped the songbook. It made a loud thud against the dusty floor and sent up a cloud that burned his throat. As soon as the book made contact with the floor, the figure turned its head to Bart. By that point, the figure had already trapped James against the wall and hand a hand around his neck, and James’s pleas to Bart were getting harder and harder to hear.

“Bart…please…” James said.

“Do you think that’s funny, boy?” the figure said, this time to Bart.

The words sent a shock through all of Bart’s muscles when he heard them. He turned and sprinted out the door. The shards of wood scraped his skin, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t turn around, either. He kept going and looked for a way to get away from the church. Bart spotted the car and sprinted till he was at the old hatchback. He fumbled through the console, his fingers failing to grasp the keys due to the sweat coating his palms. Bart looked up and saw the figure sprinting towards the car. Overcome with fear, he finally grabbed hold of the key fob and jammed it into the ignition, and turned on the vehicle. Bart put it into reverse and backed out onto the road, tires squealing as he did so. Bart sped off for several miles and stopped at the end of a long driveway leading. The sign near the road was hard to make out in the low light but read, ‘Heishman Farm.’ When he stopped, his chest was heaving and burning from a combination of the dusty church and exerting himself more than he had since high school. After catching his breath, he suddenly jolted upright.

“James!” he said.

He couldn’t go back. What if that thing was still at the church? Better to take the risk than to leave James behind. Throwing caution to the wine, Bart turned the ignition. The car sped off once more, kicking up the dust in the driveway, and moved down the road back towards the church. 

When he arrived, Bart leapt out of the car and began calling for James. The air was silent, except for the crickets, which were once again chirping. He tried calling again, but nothing. Bart ran up to the church entrance, trying to squeeze his way through, but a massive splinter by the base of the door caught his calf muscle and sent him to the chapel floor. He winced in pain. Bart tried to get up but had a hard time due to his injured leg, which was now coated in blood. Eventually, he got stable enough footing by using a pew as a crutch and pushed himself up. 

Bart’s stomach fell when he saw the room. There was no figure anywhere to be seen. The songbook was gone too, but most importantly, James wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The pews were empty, and the altar was too, free of the tattered banners with the Methodist church icon and wooden podium that once adorned it. Bart was alone in that church in the middle of nowhere.

END

#american gothic #Southern Gothic #gothic horror #horror #horror stories #creepy small town #creepypasta #original character #original post #original content #original story #college gothic