#the time he got arrested last years the cops made him open the door for himself and laughed at his struggle

[byizoyas]

genshin impact ; drabbles

2023/byizoyas. — pls do not plagiarize or repost and claim as yours ! thank you very much

✘ nsfw. you get arrested by no other than your ex and realize how bad you both missed each other ✘ wriothesley x f!reader

content WARNING!! : genshin canon universe, implied cheating, cop!wrio, sensory deprivation, a mix of sex and feelings ig??

written before wriothesley official appearance therefore it might be ooc later!

‘come in’

after these words pronounced by a oh too familiar voice to you, the cop that had taken you to the police station opened the door.

it led directly into the ‘big boss’ office and there he was, sitting by his desk, staring at you as you took steps behind the cop.

wriothesley; the trustworthy cop, assuring the safety in fontaine.

wriothesley; the man always seen alone yet so appreciated by the community.

he, your ex, had not changed a bit. not that it had been years since you two last spoken but still, it felt as if your first kiss was the day before.

but it was not the case. it’s been months and you weren’t coming to him in a friendly way. you got caught for the stupidest thing you could’ve done and knowing that he would be the one in charge of your case made it sound much more embarrassing to you.

‘good evening y/n.’ he initiated conversation after the few seconds of awkward silence that made the three of you quite uncomfortable.

‘mh. hi.’ you stared back at him, trying hard to seem confident even though, truth was, you were still completely intimidated by his presence.

‘you can leave us. i will personally interrogate her.’ he said to his colleague; but since it seemed more like an order you thought he was his superior.

‘yes sir.’

he nodded his head, saying his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing the door slowly behind him.

‘take a seat’ he said, showing one of the two chairs in front of him.

you were alone with him now and since you knew you would have to reply whatever question he had to ask you decided to do as he told and simply sit, waiting for it to come.

but while you expected a regular interrogation session with him; he simply giggled while reading some papers that were resting on his wooden desk.

‘all of this is ridiculous.’ he stated. you genuinely wished you could understand what he meant by that; but it was way too vague for you to.

only after seconds of silence did he add another sentence. ‘your case is ridiculous. stealing your boyfriend’s stuff and burning it ? seriously ? is this some kind of joke ?’

you stared around you, carefully avoiding the judgy eyes that were fixed on your face now. the way he put it made it sound ridiculous indeed and you couldn’t believe how this would be the reason of your very first arrest ever.

wriothesley stood up, walking around his desk to sit next to you. the sudden approach made you even more nervous and as you started to think of your past actions he spoke up again.

‘so ? what happened for you to do this ?’ he asked. he seemed genuinely concerned. after all, he never once seen this part of you before.

‘he’s a cheater.’

you shrugged, still not looking at him as you felt quite awkward for the reason of all this. you didn’t control yourself but how could you ? that man hurt you and lied to you multiple times.

‘he cheated on you ?’ wriothesley asked.

at this point you asked yourself whether the question was still for his interrogation or if this was for his own satisfaction. after all you did dump him in a pretty dirty way.

you thought he could make fun of you for a bit if it made him feel better. but as you prepared yourself to receive harsh words from a past lover you broke the heart of; he simply caressed your cheek.

‘what a shame.’ his fingers were cold, due to his cryo vision and it did send a few shivers through your body.

he got up to go back to his armchair, reading through the several documents. but as he was really focused you couldn’t help but looking at him.

he, who was in the right position to make fun of you had decided to not do such; and instead even showed affection.

he heaved a long sigh and stared at you again. ‘you know all the work i’m gonna have to do only for your little revenge ?’ you didn’t notice before he took this annoyed intonation but he did seem tired already.

you got up from your chair all of a sudden, slowly walking towards him. ‘i’m sorry wrio.’ you said, eyebrows frowning, showing of sincerely sorry you were.

‘it’s fine, i’ll ask simon some help.’ he only replied.

‘n-no. i’m sorry for everything.’ you added to make it clear how you weren’t only taking of that stupid shit you did after a sudden pulsion.

wriothesley was a kind soul, a sweet boy to you, always. you didn’t quite remember the feelings that pushed you to break up with him before but you were certain of one thing; you never once stopped being attracted to that man.

and he was sitting right beside you now, obviously still having a thing for you. you weren’t usually so confident but you knew him by heart by now and his eyes never lied.

‘let me.. make it up to you perhaps.’ you said with a really soft voice as you kneeled between himself and his desk. you started things slowly by caressing his thick thighs.

‘would you like that ?’ you added. wrio didn’t seem to oppose to it since he even spread his legs a bit to give you a better access to his intimacy.

you started unzipping his pants, but he stopped you all of a sudden. ‘what exactly do you think you’re doing ?’ he seriously asked.

he pulled on both your hands, bringing you back on your two feet as he got up from his chair too. he was now facing you, eyes locked with yours and once again, it did not lie. there was this burning desire in it; he wanted you and you just knew it.

he pulled your hair, looking down on you for a few seconds before throwing you on the desk. I’m only a few seconds you went from standing awkwardly in front of him to laying down on his desk under his gaze filled with lust.

‘fuck.’

he wanted you, now you were sure of that and he wasn’t long to confirm it when he took off his coat and started undressing.

‘wait a minute. you’ve been a bad girl y/n.’ he spoke almost to himself with how low his voice was but you figured out he had to be this discreet since you were still on his working place.

he opened one of the drawers near and took some handcuffs from it, carefully placing them on your wrists.

‘unfunny.’ you said but if you were being honest with yourself you loved this little game of his.

he wasn’t usually that bold but it felt like a good surprise actually and you were very much into it.

‘stop looking at me with those eyes. i cannot focus.’ with that said he blindfolded you.

there you were. vulnerable. unable to touch nor see anything. you felt very unpowerful yet excited at the same time.

despite everything you still trusted wrio the same way than before and he would never do anything to hurt you.

‘what are you gonna do now ? wait and see ?’ you teased, trying to pull him closer with your feet since your hands were tied.

you felt a hand gripping your feet together.

soon after, his warm mouth was on your skin, kissing your leg up and down until he reached your sensitive zone. he gently bit your inner thigh, knowing how good this made you feel and the slight moan that escaped your mouth under the surprise confirmed it.

‘be quiet, or i’ll stop.’

so strict, you thought but didn’t say anything; instead focusing on keeping quiet because this man was about to please you and you needed it so bad.

you starts to think of his mouth rubbing your clit and licking it up and down and the only thought of it made you soaking wet down there.

wrio pulled your skirt and panties down, not giving a damn about what they were like and only focusing on pleasuring you for now.

he teased you a bit, rubbing the sensitive parts of your pussy and stretching your hole, getting you all ready for him. little did he know you were already ready and all you wanted now was for him to fill you up.

but wrio obviously wanted to make you a desperate, begging mess. and he was close to get you begging for his cock with all the tease.

‘wrio start fu-‘ you started to say but he cut you off, shoving two fingers inside of you. his fingers slowly rubbed your insides, searching for your the good spot to make you cum.

‘the way your pussy’s squeezing my fingers.. you craved this so bad didn’t you ?’ his low voice in your ears as he kept on fingering you good made it feel even better.

‘mhm.’ you nodded, not knowing whether he was looking at you or not; little did you know he only had eyes for you at this very moment.

his eyes were filled with both love and desire. he did miss it, he missed you. to be able to touch you again, to hear your moans again.. felt divine.

he wasn’t ready to let go of you. he wouldn’t let you go this time. whether you would go back with the piece of shit that called himself your boyfriend did not matter to him.

you mattered the most. suddenly he took his fingers off and kissed your pussy gently, alternating between licks and kisses which made you go crazy.

‘wrio, it’s so good’ you moaned. it took you lots of energy to fight back your loudest moans now because that man surely was good with both his fingers and mouth.

he fucked you better than any other man could. his tongue felt like heaven. his touch were all you needed. for a minute you forgot everything around you and it felt like your union was the only thing that imported.

wriothesley threw your legs above his shoulders and kept on eating you out while caressing your thighs gently. the mix of his hands and mouth on your body felt so good.

and as your eyes were covered; your feelings were so much more intense. you didn’t know if the euphoria mixed to the multiple orgasms wrio gave you were the reasons for this, but you realized now how deeply in love you were with him.

‘i’ve missed you wrio.’

‘i’ve missed you y/n.’

you didn’t know if the feeling was mutual but these words had another meaning to you. like a late confession.

‘fuck me. please. please fuck me hard.’

wrio chuckled against your pussy, sending a few shivers down your spine. ‘so slutty yet so polite.’ he whispered.

‘can i kiss you y/n ?’ he asked but in the end he stole you a kiss before you even got the time to reply. but the way you kissed him back made him confident that he did the right thing.

he pushed his tongue into your mouth, both your tongues rubbing together in a languid exchange that you both craved ever since this started.

as he put a slight distance between you two, interrupting the passionate kiss to unzip his pants and free his boner you replied to his semi provocation from just before.

‘so hot yet so shy.’ you both chuckled.

‘thank you.’ he added as he thrusted roughly into you, taking you by surprise.

‘ngh wrio~’ you only found to say, as if his name was the most beautiful thing in the world. and it didn’t have to be, it was already the only name you wanted to repeat over again.

wrio kept fucking you, slowly at first so you could get used to his size. after all, the man was big and you almost forgot about it but it all came back to you with these thrusts.

‘i love it when you moan my name. don’t blame me if i’m pushing a bit to hear it again.’ he whispered to your ears as he leaned over you. his naked chest was glued to yours, both your bodies grinding against each other.

the room was now only filled with these lewd sounds of sex but you were too focused on wrio’s actions to really focus on the noises you guys were making.

‘you’re beautiful’ wrio said on your neck, dropping kisses here and there and sucking on your skin while his cock kept thrusting in and out of you.

he wrapped his arms around you, hands gripping your ass to help your body following his pace, and he kept on speeding it. but you asked for it after all.. and all he wanted was to pleasure you.

perhaps then.. you would come back to him ? because all he did was thinking of you.

he loved everything about you. your body, your voice, your hair, your smile and having sex with you allowed him to have all of these at the same time in a way he absolutely adored.

the sex was good. actually, it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had in a very long time. you wrapped your legs around his waist, almost locking him to stay above you and inside of you.

‘i want you to cum in me.’ you shyly requested in his ears and it got him smiling.

‘what if i cum all over your body all night long instead ?’

‘sounds good..’ you replied.

the idea of fucking that man all night was really appealing and despite it being quite impossible since he was supposed to work; it didn’t stop you from painting the scenery of every position you’d like to try out with him.

a/n. - it was a bit RUSHED but since idk the char yet i didn’t want to make it too long as it’ll most likely be ooc haha.. but at least i wrote smth pretty good i think?? ITS THE MF HANDCUFFS ANIMATION THAT GOT ME CRAZY OKAY BLAME IT ON HYV.

#byizoyas. #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin drabbles #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley smut

[cloudsmateria]

leon kennedy x reader / college au

summary: you and your best friend leon had gone off to university, too busy to see each other for the longest time you'd both been away. you eventually find the time to meet up, getting drunk and acting on some building up feelings :3

warnings: start of a smut, alcohol, not proof read idk its kind of a shit ramble that i didn't put much cohesive effort into but it's quite cute so i posted it

anyway, i’ll probably do the smut in p2

words: 2.7k

It had been a month since you last saw Leon. Ever since you started law school, and he got into his cop training program both of your schedules had been stacked, despite you both still living in the same city the 45-minute commute to each other's homes was too much. As your best friend, you both managed to call each other every other night, confiding about whatever stupid experiences you both had in your new lives.

Tonight, you finally were able to agree on him coming to your apartment tonight, as you finally managed to get all work out of the way to have a fully free weekend off. You didn't realise how excited you were for his arrival until he texted you he was at the door. You sprinted through the halls and threw the door open.

"Leon!" You shout, jumping onto him and wrapping your arms around him.

"Y/n." He smiled, hugging you back.

“I haven’t seen you in way too long.” 

“We saw each other on Facetime last night.” You finally pull away with a smile. 

“You won’t even let me have a moment to be sweet.”

“It weirds me out, you're impossible to take seriously.” He rolls his eyes in response as he walks into your apartment, falling onto your couch, you sit next to him, kicking your legs up and leaning your head against his shoulder. “Did you wanna order takeout?”

“I wanted to go out. Haven’t left my apartment to explore the city since I joined the training academy. But we’ll just stay in here for a few minutes, catch me up, then we can go outside and do dumb shit.”

“Catch you up on what?” You laughed. “You’ve been my virtual therapist for the past month. Let’s talk about you. Show me what you learnt in your training or something, entertain me.”

“You’re right, you’ve talked too much, your voice gives me a headache.” You slap his chest and he lets out a light laugh, grabbing your wrists and pulling you over him to lay on his chest. “Get comfortable first, it’s long.”

“Doubt it.”

“You have it easy. This training is just as physically draining as it is mentally.”

“It shows. You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you.” You say, tracing your finger up his arm that has noticeably grown in size, and he’s already been going gym since he was 15.

He laughs. “You must've missed me bad, I’ve never seen you this nice.”

“What’s the training like?”

“I’m at the top of the class right now but the coaches are fucking evil, 4 people have already left.” He rambles on about the jarring people he’s met and the few friends that he’s made until the story is over and he gets up regretfully as he loses the weight of your body on top of him. You go into your room to change as you are still in pyjamas, getting into a skirt with a baggy sweater you wore a little too much.

“Is that my jumper?” Leon asked as you walked out. “Is it? I've had it for ages." He steps closer and snorts when he gets a closer look, flipping the back to see the label.

"You stole this from me last year."

"You mean I borrowed it indefinitely."

"I could arrest you."

"I'd like to see you try your best, trainee. It looks better on me anyway, finders keepers."

"What if I took it back off you?"

"You'd have to catch me first."

"I'm pretty fast."

"Not as fast as me." You grin before pushing him and sprinting out of your apartment, the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you.

"You think you can lose me?!" He taunted.

"I've done it before!" You shout back, running down the stairs of the apartment complex, and out into the streets, almost losing your breath from how much you were laughing. Suddenly, he sped up to an ungodly speed, picking you up when he caught up and throwing you over his shoulder. "Oh my god! What do they feed you in training?!" You yell, slapping his back.

"Mostly protein." He says, sarcastically.

"Are you gonna put me down or carry me around the city like a caveman?"

"I’ll drop you."

"Don't even joke about that." He laughs.

"Fine, fine, I won't." He puts you down and you both start walking around the city, looking for a corner store to get into.

"Let’s get wasted." You say, pointing to a small corner store.

"You’re so irresponsible." He said, going into the store and coming back out with soda and a bottle of vodka, he popped it open instantly when he came out, taking in a mouthful without wincing, passing it over to you straight after as you both walked down the street.

"I found this nice spot, it's 5 minutes from here."

"You didn't tell me about this when we were on Facetime."

"I was hoping to show you in person, I haven't told anyone else about it." You say, taking a mouthful of the burning liquid, coughing slightly, and passing it back over.

"Well, lead the way."

After a few minutes, you were standing on the roof of an abandoned, bordered car park with a pretty view of the river that ran through the city. You already had a wooden bench up there that you took as someone left it on the side of the road.

"How did you find this?" Leon asks.

"I just went on a walk one day and saw the entrance was bordered up and decided to explore, no-one ever comes up here." You said, leaning against the rails. "How much have we drank?"

"About a quarter of the bottle. Do you want more?" He asked.

"Yeah." He passes it over to you. "Do you remember the time we broke into that abandoned hospital near our high school?"

"And you freaked out when you thought that fake skeleton was real.."

"You're never gonna let that go are you?"

"We had to climb out of the window and I had to catch you before you fell to your death. Of course, I'm not going to let it go, you owe me."

"What do you want then? A drink?”

"I can pay for my own drinks and I just paid for yours." He said signalling to the bottle in your hand.

"You get to continue to enjoy my lovely company, that's all I owe you."

"Good enough." He sighed, taking a swig. The both of you sit around, both of you talking each other's ears off until he makes a suggestion.

"We should play a game."

"What's the game?"

"Truth or dare."

"Yes! I don't remember the last time we played this. Truth."

"Any crushes yet?"

"Honestly, not really. There are some cute guys in my uni but I'm just too busy with work. Truth or Dare."

"Dare."

"I dare you to finish the bottle."

"No problem." He said, finishing the bottle, and dropping it on the ground. You laughed at him, knowing he's going to be out of his mind later.

“You’ve been going to too many parties.” You say, watching in astonishment. “This is definitely some pretence for a future alcohol problem.”

“You’re gonna be the reason for my future alcoholism.”

“To be fair you are the type to become an alcoholic over a girl.”

“You’re that girl. You’re the most annoying thing in my life and I can’t get rid of you.” 

You hit his arm.

“You hit me too. Can’t get worse.” You roll your eyes with a smile.

“Seriously, you got anything going on with any girls?” You ask, feeling a bit of tension rise. He gives you a knowing grin. “Because I love gossip, don’t get any ideas.”

“Yeah, her name is Sienna. Funny girl, might ask her out soon.” You nod, questionably annoyed. “I’m joking. God. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, got something you wanna tell me?”

“The alcohol is just hitting.” You say. “Don’t get so full of yourself. You know I wouldn’t get with you if you were the last man on earth.”

“Yeah, right.” He smiles amusedly, a plan in mind. “Truth or dare, y/n?”

"Dare."

"Kiss me." Your heart stops.

"I'm not kissing you."

"You have to."

“Do I?”

“Never took you for a girl who’d pussy out on a dare.”

You sigh.

"You have some sick satisfaction out of tormenting me." You say, standing up and straddling his thighs. Fuck. You can feel the thick muscles of his shoulders as you rest your hands upon them. 

"You have no idea." You stare at him with a small frown.

"You're so lucky I'm drunk." You lean in slowly, feeling his fingers trace over your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body. You're just a few centimetres away from his lips, your lips parting, your heart thumping, his gaze dropping down to your lips. Suddenly, you hear him quietly laugh as you start to close your eyes.

"I'm not actually going to kiss you." He says.

"What?"

"You don't have to kiss me, it was a joke."

"Oh god." You sigh, faceplanting into his shoulder.

"You're so cute." He snorts, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I think you’re the one who’s gonna make me an alcoholic." You mumble. 

“Come on, let’s go back to your apartment before you jump off the railings.” He says, letting you get off.

"You're evil." You say once you get to the ground.

"And you're so gullible. How is someone supposed to not take advantage of that?"

"Now you’re showing your true colours, you’re going to regret saying that." You say as menacing as you can, before tripping up from how tipsy you were, just for him to grab the back of your sweater to keep you upright.

"Keep threatening me, I love it."

“Freaky bastard.”

“You have no idea.” He says, grabbing your hand to speed you up for you to trip again, he laughs as you manage to catch yourself. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“No thanks.”

“Too bad because I want to get back in a timely manner.” He says, wrapping his arm around the back of your knees and carrying you off. You weren’t going to complain. 

“Are you not drunk?”

“I’m drunk. I just have more spatial awareness than you.” He carries you the quick 5 minutes to your house. Managing to walk all the way up the stairs with you still in his arms, his stamina was kind of hot, or maybe those were just drunk thoughts. 

He sets you down on your couch, getting you both a glass of water to put on your side table. 

"I didn’t say this but I took some judo classes." You say, just letting whatever dumb shit stumble out your mouth as you take a sip from the glass.

"Did you now?" He says sarcastically.

"We should spar."

"You never fail to surprise me with your stupid ideas." He says while watching you get up. "Are you that confident?"

"You're scared, that's why you're trying to chicken out." He pushes himself up off the couch.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” He says, watching you hype yourself up, jumping up and down.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Come at me then.” He said, fully intending to go easy on you. You quickly try to tackle him onto the floor, wrapping your leg around him to drop him, and to his shock he falls onto his back, leaving him groaning and rubbing his back. “I didn’t think you were being serious.”

“Fuck yeah! Told you you’d regret it!” You shout, jumping up, he grabs your leg and pulls it down making you fall over him, rolling over so that you were pinned down by your wrists.

“How cute, Leon.” You smile, tucking feet underneath him onto his chest and launching off you and getting up. You usually weren’t this successful given you’d only gone to 2 classes, the drunkenness definitely provided you some much-needed confidence. He laughs breathlessly from the rollercoaster you just put him through, resting on his wrists for a second before standing up with you. 

“You wanted me to show you what I learnt in training right?” He says, as you rub your hands together mischievously. You run toward him, him holding both of your hands when you try to push him, pushing against each other as he swipes both your feet from under you and pins you to the floor, his shins pressing on your thighs to make sure you don’t pull the same trick again. Both of you are still breathing heavily from the high of the last round. 

 "You should give up now." He whispers, lacing his fingers in between your own.

"You should know better." You whisper back, smiling. His eyes drop down to your lips, his head fogged as the alcohol in his system starts to kick in more.

"What if I don't?" He leans in, brushing his lips over yours, your stomach fluttering, you were so glad you were drunk. You never would've come up with this idea if you were sober.

"What are you doing, Leon?" 

"Beating you up.”

"You're drunk."

"So are you." He replies, connecting your lips. The kiss is slow and soft. Not how you expected a drunk make-out to be. His lips part and your tongue meet his, the both of you letting out quiet sounds as the kiss gets more heated, his body weight shifting down. His arms wrap around your waist, under your jumper as he stands up with your legs wrapped around him. "We shouldn't be making out on the living room floor." He says and presses his lips against yours again. You were already a little light-headed from the alcohol, his lips trailing down your jawline, your neck, the soft breaths of his breath against your skin, it was almost dizzying. His foot pushes your bedroom door open and he places you down on the bed his lips still all over and his fingers lifting the jumper over your head. He trails his fingers over the waistband of your skirt.

"How much did you miss me?" He breathes against your lips.

"More than anything."

"How much did you miss me, Leon?"

“I was going insane." He whispers, his fingers slipping into your underwear, sliding them off and throwing them across the room. He sits up, taking his shirt off.

"Now that's just the alcohol talking."

"It's not, the time away made me realise something I should've ages ago." He said, leaning back over and kissing you. His hand trailed back down under your skirt, a finger gliding over your slit, a soft moan coming from his lips.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction

[peonierose]

Losing Game (3/4)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Rating: Mature / Angst

TW: Mental Health

Words: 3,000+

Summary: Bryce visited his dad in prison and now he and Luna are oceans apart, but after a scare during his surgery he can only think of one person to call.

A/N: In case you missed the parts before here they are: Part 1, Part 2

2nd A/N: I went a bit off canon with Bryce and what happened with his parents, just as an fyi. Also thank you for everyone for reading this story and giving it a chance 🩷

Side note: I also made a playlist for Part 3, the previous two parts include a playlist as well.

Maui, Hawaii 

A few years ago…

Bryce

I sang along to some song playing on the radio, still pumped from a round of basketball with my friends. I kicked Kainalu‘s ass and ran laps around him. I still can’t believe I beat him this time around, he cursed throughout the game. But it was just a game between friends.

When I turned the corner to our house I saw blue flashing lights, alerting me that something was wrong. I put the car in park and slammed the door as I got out.

Did something happen? This is a pretty safe neighborhood. My parents made sure we had the best-equipped security system around. The best money could buy.

Several cop cars have pulled up in front of our driveway. I saw two police officers escorting my dad into a police car. My eyebrows rose high. Not able to make sense of this whole situation and what is unraveling right in front of my eyes.

I ran towards the entrance of our house where officers were carrying out some of our things. Such as computers, laptops, phones, everything, and putting them into evidence bags. I kept staring as if this was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

When I wanted to enter our house an officer stopped me.

”You can’t get inside.“

”What do you mean I can’t get inside? I live here.“ I replied, with a sharpness I reserved for people who get on my nerves.

”Please Officer, that’s my son.“ My mom‘s voice came from the entrance. The officer looked me up and down and finally, after what felt like hours passed, he nodded and let me enter.

”Alright. He can enter. But don’t touch anything.“ He called out after me.

I got inside and my mom pulled me to the side.

”Let’s go to the kitchen.“ I followed my mom as if I were in a trance. My body moved, but my mind was somewhere else.

The questions kept circling in my head like hungry vultures ”What the fuck is going on here? Why are there cops in our home? Why did Dad get arrested? What did my parents get themselves into?“

I whirled on my mom, but she put her forefinger on her lips telling me with her eyes not to ask any questions that were burning on my tongue. Then she hugged me and whispered into my ear.

”Listen carefully, we don’t have much time. There’s a small bag in your sister's closet. Take it and get her out of here. There’s enough money that should last you for a while. Since I’m sure they froze all of our accounts.“

I wanted to break off the hug and look at my mom. But she held on tight.

”But…“

”Do as I say ku’uipo. Know that your father and I love you. Take care of your little sister until we figure things out. You hear me?“ My mom hissed. I nodded slightly. ”Good.“

We broke off the embrace and it’s as if I’m seeing a different mom. Not one who kissed my bruised knee when I fell from my bike as a seven-year-old, or who sang me Hawaiian songs when I had the flu.

She put her hand on my cheek as if she sought comfort from me. She kissed my cheek and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach. I let out a breath I’ve been holding in.

After a few seconds, I went upstairs. Before heading up, I took another look at my mom, tired lines had etched themselves into her bronze skin. I turned around, taking one last close look at her before I climbed the stairs leading to our bedrooms.

As I went up I looked for the bag my mom mentioned. Though Keiki is nowhere in sight. I sprinted to the closet and when I opened it I whistled when I saw all the cash, fake IDs, and passports inside the bag. Whatever they did, they must’ve had a backup plan.

I recognized a fake ID when I saw one. I used one to get into clubs and bars while still underage. This isn’t a simple bag, this is a run-for-the-hills, get-out-of-town for a while kind of bag.

I replaced the bag my mom prepared with my gym bag that was slung over my shoulder a few minutes ago. Making sure no one saw me swap the bags I went outside and looked for my sister.

”Kei-Kei?“ I went to my room, and there she was. Hugging her green sea turtle to her chest. I gave it to her last Christmas.

She was sitting on my bed. Scared to death if her tear-streaked face was any indication. Her dark brown hair was held in a ponytail by a pink elastic. I kneeled next to her.

”Keiks? Come on, let's go.“

She looked at me and I took her little hand into mine. Her hands were shaking and I covered them with mine to lend her some strength.

”Go where? I’m so scared.“ Her big brown eyes, so much like my own, were full of more unshed tears.

”I know you are scared. But I’ve got you Kei-Kei.“ When she hesitated I smiled and squeezed her hand.

”I’m scared too, Keiks. But why don’t we go to a safer place? Hmm?“

”Today is my birthday, Bry. Are we going to celebrate with mom and dad?“ She asked, looking up at me.

I closed my eyes. Shit. It’s her birthday. How do you explain this shit show to your six-year-old sister?

”We‘ll go to some friend's house for a few days. You and I will celebrate with some cake and ice cream. Mom and Dad will join us when they can, okay?“

”Okay. But I want a big cake. With mango flavor.“ She said excitedly.

”You got it Kei-Kei.“ I said and smiled at her. When she saw me smiling at her she smiled back, nodded, and wiped her tears away.

I put the bag over my shoulder and hoisted Keiki up, carrying her downstairs. She clung to me and I winked at her which made her smile. Officers were still taking everything and bagging it as evidence.

Damn what the hell happened? I’ll have to ask my parents another time. First I needed to make sure Keiki was alright.

Though from the looks of it, our lives would inevitably change forever.

Honolulu, Hawaii’

Present Day…

Bryce

With a start my eyes snapped wide open, looking left and right, seeing familiar surroundings, making me relax in bed. I reached for my glass of water on the white nightstand next to me, since my throat was all dried up.

I haven’t had memories resurface like this in a long time. Moments from when my parents were arrested. I’ve always wanted the memories gone and I’ve suppressed them. Guess they’re coming back in full force now.

I rubbed my tired eyes. When I turned my head I saw that Luna's side of the bed was rumpled. Though her side was empty.

I didn’t have to be at work until later in the afternoon. As I turned my head I looked at the clock at my bedside. The green numbers said 7.35 am and I just wanted to stay in bed all day, but I knew I’ve got to get my shit together and get out of bed. No matter how hard it is.

I rubbed my eyes again and got out of bed. I went into the bathroom to take a cold shower. Maybe that’ll wake me up.

15 minutes later I was dressed and ready to face the day. The first thing I noticed as I got downstairs was that the kitchen was empty except for Keiki and Evie sitting at the kitchen table talking in hushed tones.

After the flashback I just had, it feels weird to see Keiki all grown up now. As if you fast-forwarded turning Keiki 23, instead of 6.

When I entered they stopped talking.

”Good morning,“ I walked towards the coffee machine to get some coffee. Starting the day without coffee? Impossible.

”Morning Bryce,“ Evie said while Keiki kept herself busy with Cheerios and some mango slices.

Looking at me, her eyes full of questions I don’t have the answer to. I put it aside to answer later. Because as of right now? I don’t know what to say. Honestly.

”You know an apple would be good for you. Instead of all that sugar, you eat all the time,“ I said pointing to the bowl in front of her.

”How about no? Also, I have some mango smartass.“ She said and stuck out her tongue at me.

I grinned.

”Real mature Keiks,“ I replied and sat down at the kitchen table, across from Evie. Keiki's phone chimed and she went upstairs to take the call.

Evie scooted closer.

”Is everything okay Bryce? Luna is usually up before you. She’s usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast or ordering in and singing around. You know, since you and making breakfast usually almost turns into having to call the fire department,“ she grinned but her green eyes turned serious within seconds.

I chuckled but the sound was more hollow than rich with joy.

”It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that Eves,“ I said, not really in the mood to hash out what happened last week. Too restless to sit, I get up and just lean against the fridge.

Evie got up too and she squeezed my arm.

”I get it, this is between you and Luna. And you want to solve this on your own. I won’t pressure you for details. But Bryce? You’re one of my favorite guy friends, well make that the only one. So if you ever need to talk, or just get wasted? I’m your girl. You went through a lot. I can tell. So if there’s something you’d like to get off your chest I’m here. Don’t bottle it up. When you’re ready we’re all here. For you and Luna. You’re family okay? You’re not alone,“ she aimed a watery smile at me.

I nodded and hugged her, not able to say more than that. She gave me another hug and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket.

”At least one person in this house eats healthy,“ I said teasingly.

”I heard that,“ came Keiki's shout from upstairs.

”Good,“ I shouted back.

I do what I always do when everything gets too much. I go to Manoa Falls when I feel upset. It’s my and Luna’s favorite place in the world.

Sitting there on the moss-covered stones and hearing the rush of the waterfalls? It’s like you’re one with nature. That peacefulness? Food for the soul. When I get there I let the silence and chirping of birds envelop me and ground me. My phone chimes with a text, my heart sped up and I think it might be Luna, but it’s just a Spotify alert. Suggesting a new song to one of my playlists. I unlock my phone to see which song it is. It’s , which must be for Luna she loves Maddie & Tae. I sigh when I lock my phone again.

Only too soon do I have to get back because my shift is about to start.

I got dressed for work and before I was out the door I heard Keiki calling my name and I turned around keys in hand.

”Hey are you guys okay? I could tell Luna was upset about something,“ she asked gently.

I nodded.

”We’ll be okay again. We’re just going through a rough patch. It’s all going to work out,“ I said and kissed my sister on the forehead.

She nodded.

I walked out the door to get to work. Hopefully, work will distract me from my problems for now.

Later that day…

Aubrey got out of the OR. Her brown eyes blazing.

”What the fuck is wrong with you Lahela?“ She asked me.

I leaned on the wall. Trying to get a breath out. But all that came out was a wheezing sound rather than an actual breath.

She noticed I was not saying anything and must’ve seen my face. Pale as a ghost.

”Deep breaths Lahela. Come on. You got this. Deep breaths. In and out,“ she instructed me and I did as she said.

My hands started to tremble earlier during surgery. Again. What the fuck is going on?

I tore the surgical cap away and threw it onto the floor. Tearing at my longer hair. Not seeing where the cap landed and not really caring at this moment.

”Okay talk to me. What’s wrong?“

When my breathing was under control again I looked at Aubrey.

I was breathing slowly, still not able to talk to anyone.

”I had a fucking panic attack. That’s what’s wrong.“ I said a heartbeat later.

”Okay. Just breathe and relax. Just stay here, okay?“ She said and left to give me some space.

This happened before but I didn’t see it as a panic attack.

I thought I just had some anxiety left from the day before when I talked to a family who were seeking answers for a surgery I couldn’t perform because it was too risky.

What if complications occur? They will blame me for it.

It’s a pretty complicated surgery and I didn’t know how well they would handle any complications or repercussions I told them about.

I sighed again. I didn’t even realize that I pulled out my phone and dialed Luna’s number.

”Hey B, what’s wrong?“ She said and I could hear other people mutter in the background. She must be at the store or something.

”Can you come to the hospital? I know we’ve fought, but I really need you.“ I said quietly.

”Of course, I’ll be right there.“ She said. It‘s as if our fight was forgotten.

I don’t even know how I got to the locker room as I’m sitting on the cold, hard linoleum floor. My head is resting between my knees.

As I’m trying to get my breathing and my heart rate under control.

Breathing exercises didn’t cut it. But slowly my heartbeat normalized and I could breathe freely again.

I didn’t know if she’d even come if I called her. After our fight, everything seemed out of balance.

But Luna is the only person I wanted to see. I just wanted to feel her soft touch and smell her guava shampoo. Knowing she’s close and I can hug her when my anxiety is high? Deeply comforted me.

I was still sitting like that on the floor when I felt soft hands caressing the hair at the nape of my neck.

I shivered and when I turned around I saw Luna’s concerned face.

”What happened?“ She asked and opened her arms for me.

I hugged her because I needed her. For the first time in a week after our fight, I felt good again.

It’s as if I‘m a functioning human being, who’s been deprived of human touch for so long. However weird that sounded, it helped to hug her. That physical contact from the person I love is exactly what I needed.

We barely talked, just exchanged a few words here and there. But it’s not like it’s usually with us. Jabs and teasing here and there. Laughter and kisses.

I missed her. I didn’t know you could be in the same room with the person you love, yet feel so lonely. As if you’re miles apart.

She stroked my hair and just whispered some lyrics of a song to me. I think it was ”I Have a Dream by ABBA“.

”My hands started shaking and I panicked during surgery.“

”Oh B I‘m sorry that happened, but I think ever since you visited your dad you came back differently.“ She pointed out carefully as if she wasn’t sure what my reaction would be.

”Of course I did. There are way too many emotions eating me up right now. I just needed to sort them all out.“ I remarked.

”B please tell me what’s going on. Please, I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me,“ Luna whispered.

”I feel lost. Lost and sad and I don’t know.“ I admitted. I broke down. I wrapped my arms around her as I cried silently and she held me close, showing me she was right here with me.

”I’ll give you anything you want Bryce. I love you so damn much. I’d even eat some oatmeal.“ She shivered involuntarily. The disgust of having to eat oatmeal was evident on her face. She hates it. I laughed through my tears. She pushed some strands of my hair that had gotten longer out of my face and I squeezed her hand.

”Would you be willing to go to therapy? We could go together if you want. Or you could go alone. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.“

To be honest I’ve been thinking of going to therapy for a while. I’ve been a wuss to go though.

”I’d like that. Know any good ones?“

Luna nodded.

”I do. We can make an appointment. And we can go whenever you feel like you want to go.“

I nodded and just kept leaning into her. I turned my head and looked into her blue-green eyes.

”I never meant to hurt you when I didn’t tell you I visited my dad. I…just don’t know…“

Luna took my face into her hands.

”It’s okay B. We’ll figure it out together. And if you want to spend some time figuring things out with your parents I support you.“ She said and after a heartbeat, she continued.

”I suffer from anxiety and depression. I know what it’s like when it’s getting too much and when I don’t know what to do with my emotions. When I want to scream and cry and just get out of my skin for a while. I get it. That’s what painting is for me. Maybe we can find something you can find comfort in.“ I smiled. Even now when we’re still not sure where we stand exactly, she tries to help and support me. I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

”I always liked working with my hands. Building things. I was always good at it. I once built a princess castle for Keiki.“

”That is so sweet. I bet it was pink.“ Luna smiled softly and I smiled back at her. If there’s one person who loves pink? It’s Luna. But it’s endearing and I love that about her.

”Maybe you can work something out with Adam?“ She suggested.

”You think he’d let me?“ I asked not sure if Adam would let me help with any of his projects.

”Of course. Adam loves you like a brother. He’d help you. Especially if he knows it helps you to feel calm.“

I admit feeling ashamed and mortified that my hands would start to shake again. Is something wrong with me?

”There’s nothing wrong with you B. Sometimes emotions boil over. It’s when you’ve bottled things up too many times. I know that. That’s why I’ve turned to art. When I create art it lets me get out some emotions I‘ve been feeling. We can do some painting together if you want.“

I didn’t realize I'd spoken out loud. I nodded, not able to look at her, afraid she’d see how emotionally exhausted I was.

First visiting my dad, our fight, and now this panic attack during the surgery. Maybe some vacation would do me some good. I‘m sure I can work something out with the chief of medicine. Alana is amazing and she‘s very understanding.

”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my dad. I just didn’t want to share it because I was scared that if you saw and knew everything you’d…“

”What? Run away? B there’s nothing that could make me run away from you. No matter what happens. Sure I was hurt that you didn’t say anything, but I understand that sometimes certain conversations aren’t that easy. Especially when it’s with a family member you haven’t talked to in a while. But whether we fight or if we have a make-out session all day, a relationship is never easy. But we work on it. We compromise, and most importantly we love each other. Come hell or high water.“

I looked up at her and I could tell from the expression in her eyes that she meant every word.

She hugged me again and I simply leaned into her, borrowing some of the strength that she was offering. We sat like that for another 10 minutes, until Luna had a pained look on her face and I could’ve slapped myself by letting her sit on the ground.

”B not to be rude, but can we maybe go somewhere else? I feel a bit uncomfortable sitting like this.“

”Oh my god I’m sorry of course. Here let me help you up.“ I got to my feet and helped her up.

”Thank you. For being there for me.“ I kissed her soft lips, giving you that warm, cozy feeling as if you were coming home.

”Always.“ She smiled tenderly.

I knew we’d fought, but things will get better again. I believe that.

#Losing Game (3/4) #Luna Auclair #Bryce Lahela #Keiki Lahela #Evangeline Auclair #Aubrey O'Neil #open heart #CFWC

[f4iry-bell]

jameson hawthorne x reader enemies to lovers | part 2

part 1

i promise the 3rd part will be better and with a lot of gilmore girls reference!!!!

Jameson barely saw her after that, the only place he saw her was their journalism class which he wanted to drop out of because he was not interested in journalism, the only reason he joined this class was to compete with her. Now that he has won, what's the point? But there was something holding him back. Maybe he knew what it was or maybe he didn't. Or that's what he'd like to think.

After class he noticed a familiar face sitting under a tree with her laptop open, working on something. He was debating whether or not he should approach her. He won their little competition, there's no point in talking to this girl ever again. But it won't hurt to annoy someone who gets annoyed easily, right? So he walked to where she was sitting. Without looking away from her screen she spoke.

“What do you want?” She asked while typing something.

“What makes you think I want something?” He answered with a question.

“Seriously, why are you here? To brag? To rub it on my face that you have the spot?” She asked, finally looking up to him.

Jameson took a seat next to her on the ground, stretching out his long legs. “I would but I was curious. What are you working on?” He asked, peeking at her screen which made her shut her laptop.

“Why? So you can steal whatever I'm working on right now as well?” She asked.

“I wouldn't say I stole your idea. I simply wrote a better piece of work than you. The better one gets the spot” He shrugged.

“It was better because you had an insider! The insider being you is very helpful to you!” She snapped at him.

“Come on, Ace. It's just a spot. You can try next year,” He chuckled.

“For people like you. You know you could easily get a job at any magazine with that last name of yours without this spot, without an internship this spot may give you but it's not like that for me. I was supposed to get that spot, so by the end of senior year I'd get an internship at a magazine and would get a proper job. I had a plan, now it's ruined. The least you could do is leave me alone” She got it out of her chest and looked away from him.

Jameson didn't know what to say, he never had an idea of how much this spot meant for her, maybe she should have told him. He felt bad regardless. He didn't console her or say anything to make her feel better or even apologies instead he left her alone like she asked. 

_

This time it was her who knocked on his fancy apartment door, furiously. Jameson opened the door and tried hard not to smile.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“You backed out from the Yale newspaper” She stated.

“Keeping tabs on me now, Ace?” He smirked. 

“I got the spot. Because you dropped out. I don't want the spot out of pity!” She explained. 

“I thought you wanted the spot”

“Not like this”

“Like what? I backed out because I got bored, not because I felt bad for you. Don't get any thoughts” He smirked.

“You did this on purpose, so everytime I sit there I'll be thinking of how I'm there only because it got passed down to me” Jameson was amused.

“Ah, now I don't control your thoughts. It's just you who think like that” He said.

“You are so frustrating!” She said.

“Says you” He chuckled which only made her about to lose it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Jameson took that time to check her out, he liked how she looked when she was mad at him. He found it very attractive. Something that he'll admit to himself.

“I'll get back at you, just watch.” She threatened.

“Do your worst” 

_

Exactly five days later Jameson got kicked out of his fancy apartment near the campus because someone told the landlord about how often he got arrested during his gap year and the landlord can't risk having cops showing at his door steps often. It's bad for the apartment complex’s reputation. And Jameson knew who exactly would have whispered this information about him to the landlord. The college’s dormitory was full, he can't get a new apartment near campus soon. He decided to keep his things and stay at a friend's place for a while. But then he got an idea. He packed a few things, made some calls and drove to a very friendly apartment. He knocked on the door and barged inside the apartment with his bag like he owned the place.

“What are you doing here?” She asked with a frown. “What's that?” She pointed towards the bag.

Before answering her question Jameson looked at her up and down. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts revealing her legs. “Well, I don't have a place to stay.”

“Aw, sad” She gave him a fake sad expression. “But that doesn't explain why you are here”

“Your roommate was kind enough to let me stay and have the couch. Very nice girl, you should learn a thing or two from her” He smirked. He called her roommate and used his irresistible charms. 

Her expression changed, to his favourite one. She gave him a hostile glare. “You’re not staying in my apartment.”

“Oh but I am.” He smirked, putting his bag down.

“You’re not the one who is paying the rent, I am. I make the decisions here” She pointed.

“And so does your kind roommate. Who likes helping homeless boys. You know, I wouldn't be here if you didn't get me kicked out of my apartment” He shrugged.

“You can literally get any apartment”

“I like this one. It's cute and cozy.” She didn't reply, instead she went inside her room and shut the door. Jameson had a satisfied grin on his face.

Jameson didn't just stay in her apartment. He messed with her, he took his fine time in the bathroom, he ate her food, he moved her things around which pissed her off even more. He would constantly knock on her room door just because he can.

When she came back after college she found him in her room snooping around. She immediately walked to him and snatched her kindle from his hands.

“Stay out of my room and away from my stuff!” She said with an embarrassed look on her face. 

“You have intellectual taste in physical copy of books, I'll admit. But your kindle on the other hand. Romance? Or must I say smu—” 

“Shut up. You had no right to go through my stuff!” She yelled.

“I understand, everyone has their needs.” He teased her.

“I said shut up. Get out of my room” She demanded.

“Relax, I didn't read anything. I just looked up the book and the internet told me some interesting things.” He explained. He wasn't going through her things, maybe her books. But he wouldn't actually go through her private stuff. He couldn't help but look up the book she was reading on kindle. It has a very cute cover.

“Out. Now!”

“Or what?”

“God, your life must be so boring that you decided to involve yourself in mine” She said.

“Boring? Ace, my life is anything but boring. Getting involved in yours just makes it better.” He explained. There is nothing boring about Jameson Hawthorne.

“Fine, you win! Now get out of my room” 

“Or what?”

Instead of replying she just groans. She was thinking, he's only doing this to get a reaction out of her. So she decided to stop giving him one. Maybe then he'll go away.

“You know what? Do whatever you want. I don't care.” With that she picked up her kindle and started reading on the bed.

“Reading that infront of me?” He asked. She didn't reply or even look at him. She was reading as if he's not even in the room.

“Hello?” No response.

“I'm going to open your laptop” He said hoping she'd stop him. But she didn't, her laptop required a passcode. He kept trying to do things that'll make her acknowledge him but she treated him as if he was invisible for a whole day. Jameson didn't like this, he enjoyed getting a rise out of her. Not when she ignored him like he wasn't even there. He was getting frustrated by this treatment. 

“I drank your juice,” He informed her.

No response.

“Oh come on.” He gave up. He gently grabbed her arm and made her face him. “At least look at me!” She did look at him, there something about the way she looked at him.

She smiled. “I win,” She announced.

“No, you did not.” He denied.

“You got frustrated. And gave up.” She smirked.

“Not true”

“Oh? Then why are you forcing me to look at you? Admit it, this only works when I give you a reaction, when I don't you get frustrated.” 

“You stopped playing. It doesn't count”

“I did not, I just used a different method” She shrugged. “My second win by the way” She told him. First the riddle, now this.

He looked at her eyes with an intense glare, he only had one win. 

“How does it feel to lose a very silly game?” She asked, bringing her face close to his. 

Bad idea. Wrong move.

 Because the next thing Jameson did was lose it, not his temper. It takes a lot more than this to get him mad. He lost control and kissed her while still holding her arm. He sure was attracted to her from the beginning. He couldn't resist when she was frustrated or like now bloating her win. He was frustrated too, because of his loss. Maybe that's why he kissed her. Probably that's why. But why did she kiss him back? Especially with the same energy as him?

His hand holding her arm moved to her waist while placing his other hand at the nape of her neck tilting her head up. Kissing her felt great, better than seeing the look on her face when she gets annoyed at the little things he does. The feeling didn't last long because she pulled back. He immediately released his hold on her waist and neck letting her take a couple steps back and then run to her room.

He didn't follow her or knocked on the door to tease her about the kiss. Instead, he picked up his bag and went back to place. It was one hell of a kiss because he couldn't stop thinking about it, the way his hands felt on her skin, the way she let him kiss. He wanted more of that kiss. More of her. He doesn't know what this feeling is and he doesn't want to know because if he did, he would have to act on it. Maybe this is where their little rivalry game ends.

part 3 →

#jameson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #the grandest game #jameson hawthorne x reader

[kingdaddydaichi]

☆ title: redefining (ch. 3) | (ch. 2) ☆ (ch. 4)

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 1.8k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 10-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: sfw (this chapter; nsfw to come in later chapters). daichi is a cop so there are cop things (car, handcuffs). (mention of) past trauma, armed breaking/entering, gun/firearm, shots fired, bullets, bullet hole.

Despite her past she can’t help the attraction He tells her that he’s nothing like the last one

Losin' Control - Russ

You followed Daichi’s lead and made it about two steps out of Suga’s front door when you stopped in your tracks. “Oh my god, wait.”

He stopped and turned to look at you. “What? Did you forget something?”

“No.” You couldn’t take your eyes off his vehicle as a wide grin spread across your face. “I get to ride in a real cop car?”

He shook his head and laughed as he walked to the passenger side door and opened it for you. “We call it an Interceptor.”

The leathery scent of the interior laced with traces of his cologne, the intricate pattern of the reflectors in the unlit light bar on top, the way all the extra buttons and lights and radio and switches made it look more the cockpit of an airplane than the dashboard of an SUV.

You got in slowly, noticing the bulletproof partition between the front and back seats. “This is the closest I’ve ever come to being arrested,” you mused as Daichi closed your door, earning yourself another chuckle from him.

You watched as he walked around the front of the car, noticing for the first time the impressive bulge in the front of his pants just beneath his belt buckle; the dip in his back just above his butt - and what a butt it was.

The driver side door opened and he got inside with smooth movements like it was something he did every day. “Buckle up,” he said, starting the car and reaching for his own seat belt.

“This is so exciting. Turn on the blue lights! I wanna see what it looks like from inside!”

He laughed at your childlike delight as he flipped on the turn signal. He’d normally never use the emergency lights unless necessary, but he had a pretty girl to impress sitting in his passenger seat. “Let’s get out of the neighborhood first. Don’t wanna alarm anyone.”

You were on a main road about halfway between Suga’s place and yours when Daichi turned on the blue lights. There were only two other vehicles on the road ahead of you and they both moved over and slowed down as Daichi passed them on by.

You laughed. “That has happened to me so many times - driving along when a cop turns on the lights behind me only to speed past when I think I’m being pulled over.” You side-eyed your handsome driver and smirked. “I wonder how many of those cops were trying to impress a lady.”

“Who said I’m trying to impress you? You asked me to do it!”

“I can see the look on your face. You’re enjoying this.” A flash of metal caught your eyes and you looked down into the center console to find a pair of handcuffs resting there. “Daichi?! You said you didn’t have handcuffs with you!”

“No, I said I didn’t have them on me. They were in the car, not on my person.”

Your eyes trailed up along his profile as he drove, looking comfortable and relaxed. His right hand gripped the top of the steering wheel as his left held onto the top of the car with the tips of his fingers. You lowered your gaze down along his torso, stopping at his thighs. Your thoughts turned nasty as you made out the shapes around his relaxed-fit khakis, watching as shadows betrayed his shape from the intermittent illumination of the overhead street lamps.

“I’d feel a lot better if you walked me to my door.”

You didn’t see the shit-eating grin on his face as he exited the driver side door to meet you at the front of the car. He followed you to your doorstep where you pulled out y- oh shit. Where were your keys? Your fingers searched frantically for them in your purse, but you came up empty-handed.

“Oh fuck. I left my keys at Suga’s.” You buried your face in your hands.

“Do you leave a spare key out somewhere?”

“No!” You answered rather abruptly. “Never.”

Both of you stood there for a few seconds, knowing full well what your options were.

“Do you want me to take you back to Suga’s or do you wanna crash at my place? You can have the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

You thought for a moment. It was already past Suga’s bedtime when you’d left his place 20 minutes ago. “I uh- I guess I’ll stay at your place.” You turned to face him directly. “But I’ll take the couch! This is my fault and I’ve already troubled you enough.”

“I’ll let it slide this time.” He glanced over at you with a smirk on his face as you walked back to his car with him. “I don’t know about you but I’ve had fun hanging out with you tonight. I can see why you and Suga became friends.”

You smiled as he opened the car door for you again. “You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t believe chivalry is dead,” he said, watching as you got inside before closing the door for you.

Once he was back in the driver seat, before he put the car in gear, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave the muscle around it a squeeze. “I’ve had a good time with you tonight too.”

Even in the dark interior of the car you could see the slight pink dusting on Daichi’s cheeks. “Good, I’m glad.”

The drive to his place was quieter than before, but you could’ve cut the sexual tension with a knife.

“You good?” Daichi said, glancing over at you as he put a hand above your knee. He hoped he wasn’t being too forward, but you didn’t flinch or move his hand away.

The warmth of his palm saturated your skin even through the fabric of your jeans. You returned his stolen glance and tried to stifle your smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking, I guess.”

“About what?” He gave your leg a reassuring squeeze.

You looked over at him, wondering if he would ever know.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he said, lifting his hand off your leg. “It’s probably none of my business.”

“No no, it’s okay.” You caught his hand and put it back on your leg. “I was just uhh…” With your hand still resting on top of his, your eyes locked briefly before he looked at the road again. “…wondering if you have a girlfriend,” you lied, but it was far less vulnerable, and therefore far more preferable, than the truth.

“Nope. I’ve dated here and there, but nothing’s really panned out. What about you?” He thought it best to leave out the part where Suga had already told him.

You shook your head. “I’ve only been on a couple of dates in the last two years.” You took a deep breath. “Feeling safe with someone is really important to me and I-”

“Haven’t met anyone who makes you feel safe yet?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Exactly.”

“I wanna ask you something, but please don’t feel obligated to answer if it makes you feel uncomfortable.” He glanced over at you. “Did someone hurt you in the past?”

You turned and looked out the window beside you, merely squeezing his hand in response. He was quite the perceptive one, wasn’t he?

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and comforting as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

You turned to find his warm brown eyes full of compassion and patience and, for a moment, it made you want to curl up in his arms.

He pulled into his driveway and you found yourself sitting in front of a one and a half story gray brick house with a kempt lawn and welcoming outdoor lighting.

“Security cameras, I see,” you said, unbuckling.

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, had a whole system installed a couple of years ago after a guy I arrested tried to break in one night and get revenge.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious? What happened?”

“He was found guilty of armed robbery and assault; put away for twenty years but got out on parole after serving only seven.”

You listened in horrified suspense.

“Evidently, he’d been watching me, learning my schedule and habits for a week or so. I was just getting in bed the night he broke in, but thankfully, I was right next to my nightstand where I keep a loaded nine-millimeter. Grabbed it and moved to the wall behind my bedroom door yelling out that I was an armed law enforcement officer. Dude was so hopped up on meth he shot the locked doorknob and rushed in anyway. I told him to drop the gun and put his hands up, but his arm swung towards me instead and I put a bullet in his shoulder. He pulled his trigger, but missed me by a few inches so the most damage he did was put a bullet hole in my wall. I got him down to the ground and kept my knee on his back until I restrained him with a tie of mine that had fallen off the doorknob. Called dispatch and stood over him with my firearm until backup got here.” He chuckled. “My colleagues still give me shit about taking a guy down in my underwear.”

You covered your mouth. “You were in your underwear the whole time?”

He nodded. “Good thing I hadn’t gotten in bed yet because that’s when I take ‘em off. Now that would’ve been awkward.”

You snorted out a laugh, but couldn’t stop your mind from trying to imagine Daichi naked. “That must’ve been terrifying, Daichi!”

He shrugged. “It was an egregious invasion of my privacy, but I tend to stay pretty calm during crises.”

You took in his serene expression, which hadn’t wavered through the entire story. “I guess so!”

“Anyway…let me get your door for you.”

You followed him to his front door, which he opened before walking in first, positioning himself to stand between you and a potential threat should one present itself in his home again.

Right away you noticed the key hook, of all things, on the wall next to his front door, and the orderly shoe shelf behind the door as he closed it. Then your eyes happened to zero in on the four-topper dining table in the breakfast nook, noticing how each and every chair was pushed up to the table with near-perfect symmetry.

Everything about him and his home told you that he was a grown ass man who had his shit together. Definitely not your type.

ch. 2 ☆ ch. 4

31 days of daichi mlist | main daichi mlist | haikyuu mlist

☆ taglist: @chaoskrakenuwu @yuujispinkhair @luvkun4 @briokayama @mrs-sawamura @heroesfan101 @lanaxians-2 @darthferbert @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @cookiesandmilksx @strawberrystepmom @maexc @little-ms-awkward @samkysnks @anejuuuuoy @productivity-blogs @patheticliesblog ++ get added

#31 days of daichi #the 7th day of daichi #redefining #king dom daddy daichi 👑 #daichi #sawamura #daichi sawamura #daichi x f!reader #daichi x reader #cop!daichi #tw.police #tw.cops #daichi long fic #haikyuu daichi #hq daichi #haikyuu x f!reader #hq x f!reader #sawamura daichi #daichi x you #daichi x y/n #sawamura daichi x you #sawamura daichi x y/n #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x y/n #daichi sawamura x you #daichi sawamura x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #hq!!

[newbordeaux]

she's cute, she's smart, and she even lies to cops 💕💕💕 [AO3 link 🙈🙈🙈🙈]

Vito couldn't remember the last time he set foot in the library—if he ever had at all.

It was a close call, the robbery at the mall. The cops had already busted that meathead Brian or whatever the fuck his name was—not that it stopped them from searching every nook and cranny in West Side for the other two guys they lost in the shootout.

Joe made off with the jewelry, presumably already waiting back at his apartment, while Vito hid in an alleyway, lost on his way back to his car.

He could hear Joe in the back of his mind—try not to get pinched on the way there. Fuckin' great.

That was when he spotted the library, right around the corner from his little alley. The two cops searching the main street were too busy looking in the other direction to even take notice of the building. Perfect.

The main entrance would likely be closed at this hour, which meant he would have to search for a back way. Carefully, he rounded the building, until he found an open window. It seemed strange to leave it open, but judging from the lack of lights on inside, the place seemed to be empty indeed. A perfect hiding spot if he'd ever seen one.

Climbing through the window was easy enough. Vito made his way to the main hall, letting himself fall into one of the loungers between the tall bookshelves, letting out a heavy sigh. Now all he needed to do was wait until the cops gave up their search. He could think of more exciting places to do that than a fucking library. He was never big on reading after all. However, boring as it was, it was better than the prospect of a jail cell.

Vito failed to notice footsteps approaching him, because suddenly he was startled by the overhead lights turning on, accompanied by a strangely familiar voice. "What are you doing here? We're closed, so get out of here before I call the cops!"

He jumped out of his seat and spun around, already moving to pull his gun. But to his surprise, that familiar voice belonged to a similarly familiar face.

"Lucia?" he heard himself say.

The woman in front of him, holding a heavy book which she likely intended to hit him on the head with, blinked in disbelief. It had to be her, there was no doubt. She looked different now; the glasses she wore only two years ago were gone, her hair was done like the women in the movies, but the ever familiar curve of her face remained unchanged—and damn it, she was gorgeous.

"Vito, is that you?" The hand holding the heavy book now fell to her side. Lucia looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Jeez, what's with that goofy suit? Got your discharge only to work for some phone company?"

She crossed her arms, but she spoke with a teasing boldness that he always liked about her. As if those two years had never passed; as if they were still two kids in Little Italy.

"How'd you know that? I mean the discharge," was all he managed to utter in return.

"Oh you know, my Mama heard it from yours. We live in the same neighborhood, you know. How else am I supposed to find out when you won't even stop by to say hello?"

Her teasing tone now turned accusatory, and they both knew why. They hadn't spoken since before his goddamn arrest, when they began to drift apart all those years ago. She and Artemisia had gone straight, left to get real jobs and make something of themselves while he and Joe were left behind. Lucia was the only one of their old friend group who had gone to college, while he went to prison and got shot at in the war. Hell, one only had to take a look at them now—she was looking finer than any of the other dames in Little Italy, while he stood there in some fucking jumpsuit that he just robbed a store in, all to pay off his old man's goddamn debts. How did one go about and casually catch up with someone he hadn't spoken to in ages, all while she was suddenly so far out of his league?

In any case, even if he tried, Mrs. Vitelli would have likely slammed the door right into his face before she let some delinquent (as she always called him) speak to her daughter. Vito scratched his cheek and shrugged nonchalantly, searching for his words as they suddenly heard a sharp knock at the front door.

"EBPD! Come out with your hands up!"

He was fucked.

Lucia jumped. "Jeez! Is that the cops?"

"Yeah, no shit," he mumbled. "Look, Lucy, it's been nice seeing you again but I gotta go now."

"You haven't been getting into trouble again, have you?"

He tried to think of an adequate excuse, but he knew there was no point. She knew him after all. "Well, uh, yeah…"

Another sharp knock.

"Fuck, look, I really gotta get going," he stammered, already moving towards the back of the building.

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Of course. Relax and let me handle this. You go hide, uh, under the reception desk."

Vito was almost dumbstruck at her calm demeanor, but did as she said regardless. She and Artemisia had lied to the cops more times than they could count, so he hid and prayed that she hadn't lost her touch in college.

He heard the front doors open. "May I help you, sir?" she asked demurely.

"Evenin', Miss. We're looking for two men who were involved in a robbery. Armed and dangerous, wearing orange jumpsuits. Have you seen anyone like that?"

Lucia gasped in horror, a hand at her breast. "A robbery you say? Oh my, I haven't seen anyone, I sure hope they're not coming here!"

"You sure? An eyewitness said he saw someone in a nearby alley."

"No, sir, you see, I was about to leave and just checked the rooms again. If anyone was here I would have noticed."

A lengthy pause followed before the man spoke again. "Alright. It's awful late though, Miss, and dangerous, so you'd better head home right away. I could have someone drive you."

"Oh, that's awfully nice of you, sir, but my car is right outside. I sure hope you'll catch these fiends, though."

"Sure will. Goodnight, Miss. Stay safe."

Vito heard the doors close again and crawled out from underneath the desk, rubbing his neck. "What, they teach you to lie to cops like that at college?"

Lucia only laughed in response, evidently proud at her handiwork. "Oh, you know, old habit. Or have you forgotten all the times we saved you and Joe from getting pinched?"

Vito gave a low chuckle in return. There was something strangely exciting about the ease with which she played the part of the innocent little lady. He wouldn't mind having her around for his and Joe's schemes again.

"You really ought to get out of here, though. They'll be looking for you everywhere now," she said, fumbling with her keys as she locked the front doors.

"Yeah. I, uh, don't suppose you could help me out here?"

"I suppose I could, just for old times sake," she replied with a hint of a playful smile. "I'll drive you home."

She spun around, making her way to the other side of the building, expecting him to follow. And follow he did.

Stopping in front of the back door, she grabbed a heavy fur coat off the rack. Vito raised a brow and gave her a questioning look. Where did she get the money for that?

"You get into stealing too while I was away?"

"What, you mean the coat? No, I just came into some money." Rather than explaining further, she simply opened the door and held it for him. "Let's get out of here."

─────────────────────────────

The drive back to Joe's apartment was mostly silent, apart from the occasional comment she mumbled about other drivers. Lucia took a few detours to avoid any unwanted attention from the police, and apart from the tension that hung in the car because she was playing getaway driver for a criminal, it turned out that the two years they had spent apart simply made it hard to find a topic for conversation. It was nothing short of awkward.

They had reached Chinatown when she finally spoke. "Do you mind if I turn this up?"

Vito, who had spent the majority of the drive looking out the passenger window, turned his head to see her finger laying on the radio's volume control.

"Nah, go ahead."

Some Glenn Miller song filled the silence between them and Lucia set her hand back on the steering wheel, tapping her fingers to the rhythm. Her gaze was focused on the road, looking ahead to see through the February snow that fell against the windshield. She lightly shook her head to move a strand of hair out of her face. The disheveled updos she had worn before his arrest have since been traded in favor of immaculately styled brown curls. She looked so different now.

Vito tore his gaze from her, lest she caught him staring, instead deciding to break the silence between them once more. "So, what have you been up to?"

She stopped the car at a red light and looked over to him.

"Not much. I'm more curious about what you've been doing. Robbing stores again after getting your discharge?" she teased, gesturing to his bright orange jumpsuit.

He rolled his eyes and she laughed softly. "Anyway, not much has happened. You already know I went to college, work part time at the library now. I'm planning to move to the West Side sometime this or next year, it's closer to where I'll be working."

"So you're leaving the old neighborhood?"

The disappointment in his voice must have been obvious, judging by an almost apologetic look on her face. "Not quite yet, but yeah, in the future. I mean, we talked about getting out of there all the time, didn't we?"

Indeed they had. He supposed that Lucia hadn't changed in that regard, still the same kid from Little Italy who dreamed of leaving her old neighborhood and making it big. And how could he blame her when he felt the same?

"It's just that this neighborhood weighs you down," she continued. "I mean, all the other girls are married by now. Everyone just seems so content with life there, no one really wants more."

Lucia fell silent again, and he noticed that the Glenn Miller song had stopped long ago. Instead, a familiar jingle now filled the silence between them.

"The Lux Radio Theatre brings you 'Laura'. Starring Dana Andrews, Gene Tierney, Vincent Price, and—

"Oh, you remember these shows?" she suddenly exclaimed. "We used to listen to these all the time."

Vito, grateful for the change of topic, let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, at your place when your parents weren't home. Remember that one time the old man next to you came knocking at your door yelling, telling us to turn it down?"

"The old hook hand? Yes. We just turned it louder and louder and he wouldn't leave 'til my Mom came home from work."

And with that, Lucia quickly fell into conversation, regaling old tales of their antics and complaining about the radio play, how the eerie atmosphere of the movie was lost without the visuals. Once she started talking it suddenly became so easy to converse with her again. He made a mental note to invite her to see the movie sometime—someone ought to show him what he missed out on during his time in the military.

After a while she stopped the car, and Vito realized only now that they had arrived at Joe's apartment. 

"Thanks for the ride. It's been good seeing you again, Lucy, real good."

Almost reluctantly, he stood from his seat, and stopped short before closing the door again, leaning against the roof of the car. "Do you wanna come upstairs and, uh, finish catching up?"

Lucia visibly froze in discomfort—fuck, he didn't mean it like that.

"No, thank you, I don't think that's a good idea," she muttered politely. Of course, why would she come up to some guy's apartment in the middle of the night—even if he really only intended to talk. Always the good Catholic girl.

"Wait, I didn't—"

"We could talk some other time though," she interrupted. "You remember that diner we always went to with Joe and Mia? I'm free on Friday, meet me there at 1pm."

"Alright, I'll see ya."

He closed the door and Lucia waved her hand before she finally drove off. Vito didn't wonder whether Joe had brought the jewelry home safely or not. For a moment, he simply stood in the driveway to his apartment and smiled to himself.

#this is mafia 2 fic if you care about that #c: lucia #x: count every star #mafia 2 #whatevah im putting it in the main tag. not tagging the mutuals. no one played this except like 3 people #*writing

[agnesandhilda]

the first necktie I ever got came from my dad sometime in 2019. it was red with stripes of dark red and thin gold lines, with the logo (westcott, I think?) printed on the fat bottom end. it always looked kind of wide on me, which is one of those things that sounds like it should be a metaphor.

I believe I convinced him to teach me to tie a tie by just asking. he indulged me. he handed me the red tie, and put another one over his shoulders to demonstrate. he stood beside me in the big mirror that branched off from the bedroom he shared with my mom, and showed me the motions. the wide side goes on your right shoulder---if you're right-handed, and we both are---and the skinny side goes on your left shoulder. you cross the wide side over the skinny one, wrapping it all the way around, forming a loop you tug the wide side down through. tighten the loop and adjust for length to be sure the underside doesn't stick out, and you're golden. 

I still tie neckties like that. it's the only way I know how. 

I got to keep the tie when we were done. he had no issue about giving it to me. I think this was both because he wanted it to be a nice gift, as well as just because I don't think he likes neckties and the business-style masculinity they represent anywhere near as much as I do, because to him they represent an obligation, while for me they're a privilege, something I actively choose even though it can be hard, even though other people don't like it. why would he care about something that's just a uniform to him?

regardless of why he did it, that tie became my first tie. I was already interested in presenting more boyishly, but the unambiguously masculine, customizable necktie (so many prints!) opened a whole new world up to me. I own a full rack of neckties now, because I like them and what they represent so much. I wore a button-down shirt and black striped tie to my final exams in freshman year, paired with my church-girl shoulder-length hair in the same style I'd had since elementary school, because I said it made me feel stronger.

the first time my dad got arrested for abusing my mom, when I ignored the cops outside for a full five minutes before opening the door because I couldn't possibly believe they were here for us, I took that tie out of my closet and tucked it away where I wouldn't have to look at it. it stayed there for months, until I found it again one day while cleaning and tossed it in the Goodwill bag, both because I couldn't bear to wear it anymore and because I was feeling spiteful, and it was either that or I figured I'd destroy it.

anyway I'm writing all this because last week I saw a picture of myself on the first day of my sophomore year of high school, months before all this happened, wearing a little tuxedo that I sweated through almost as soon as I stepped out the door, tie tied the way my dad showed me and long hair in a braid that made me look marginally more tomboyish, smiling and feeling so damn happy and handsome, and thought. oh. that's a picture from when I still owned my dad's tie.  

#bolo speaks #my dad gave me a potted plant for my eighteenth birthday and it took me almost all day to decide if I was going to destroy it or not #I chose not to. but I didn't care for it either so it wilted

[zombie-honeymoon]

Too Pretty For Prison

Summary: Roommates Hidan, Itachi, and Deidara are behind on rent, have outstanding parking violations and other debts. Wanting his rent money, Kakuzu issues them an ultimatum. Hidan comes up with what he thinks is a great idea on how to get the money they owe and stay out of jail.

Word Count: 880 Rating: T+ CW: None Status: Complete Notes: For the three setence ficathon on dreamwidth. (but this is way more than three sentences) Prompt- we're way too pretty for prison. Just some silliness and crack treated so seriously I made an image for it, please enjoy.

Also on AO3 here

When someone pounded on their front door, Hidan, Deidara, and Itachi froze, then did their best to hide except for Deidara who stood frozen in place in the kitchen.

Each of them were sure it was the cops finally come to serve them with warrants for their arrests. The charges they knew of: a slew of unpaid parking violations, overdue rent, and (what Itachi considered to be the worst offense of all) late library books he hadn’t paid the fees on for years.

For weeks the blinds had been drawn, newspaper taped to the slim window along the side of the front door and they had avoided opening the door to anyone they didn’t already know was coming over. 

“I know you idiots are in there!” Kakuzu bellowed as he pounded on the door once more. “You owe me last month's rent and now this month's rent!” 

“What do we do?” Itachi whispered frantically from where he was crouched down in front of the couch that Hidan was lying prone on, their faces inches away from each other. 

“He can’t do shit, just be quiet and he’ll think we’re not home and go away,” Hidan whispered back.

“He owns this place,” Deidara whispered from the kitchen where he still stood frozen, cigarette burning between his fingers and ash falling to the floor. “He can just come in here if he really wanted!”

“Shhh!” HIdan and Itachi shushed him at the same time.

“We’re way too pretty for prison!” Deidara shouted in a panic. “We’ll have to become someone’s bitches!”

“Deidara! Keep it down!” Hidan loudly whispered as he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “And fuck that, I’ll have bitches, I won’t be one!”

“You’re about to become my bitch if you don’t let me into my own property!” Kakuzu shouted as he banged on the door once more. The sudden noise made Deidara jump, and his cigarette fell to the floor where it landed on his bare foot. He jumped, shouting in pain, and knocked into the stove with a clatter.

“Aww fuck!” Hidan groaned. “He knows we’re in here for sure now!”

“Like he didn’t hear us already? He literally responded to you, Hidan. Apparently he wants you as his bitch.” Itachi sighed as he got up on the couch, shoving Hidan’s legs away but Hidan just moved them back and put his feet in Itachi’s lap.

Through the door they heard Kakuzu. “You three have until noon to pay up, I’ll be back with the cops and they can get you delinquents on whatever other charges you surely have. It’ll save me time and money from having to go through the eviction process.” 

Itachi leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, muttering about how he should have returned those books sooner and paid off the debt. 

“Don’t worry, man,” Hidan said, “I don’t think you go to jail for that.”

“My cousin told me you can.” 

“Well your cousin is totally full of shit.”

Itachi simply rolled his eyes, thinking that Hidan was the one full of shit. “My cousin is a cop. I think he would know.” 

Deidara came and plopped himself down in the middle of the couch, with a newly lit cigarette in hand. He leaned back on Hidan’s stomach, squishing him against the couch. “I never paid my library fees from high school… that’ll just be one more charge against me!” 

Itachi stared at him. “I can’t decide what surprises me more. That you checked out books from the library or that you actually returned them.” 

“Don’t worry guys,” Hidan said while trying to wriggle free but gave up when it was clear he was stuck there and stole the cigarette from Deidara. He took a drag before it was snatched back. “I know where where we can make a lot of money real fucking fast.”

“Oh?” Deidara and Itachi both perked up at that and waited for him to tell them.

“You think we’re pretty, Dei?” Hidan waited for Deidara to nod, a grin forming on his face. “Well, tonight’s amateur night at the strip club.”

“But we need the rent money before noon today, yeah?” Deidara asked as he flicked ashes onto the floor. 

“That old fuck can wait a few more hours. We’ll pool what we have and give it to him now. He can’t start the eviction until we’ve missed several months, and especially not if we’re 'making an attempt' to pay. Trust me on this. I know! And tonight we’ll get the rest to pay what’s left and maybe enough to pay our other debts and shit.”

“This is a terrible idea…” Itachi sighed but couldn’t offer a better solution. “We all owe so much…”

“So... maybe we do this a few times.” Deidara shrugged. “How often do they hold amateur night?” 

Hidan didn't even hesitate. “First and third Friday of every month.” 

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Itachi asked.

“It's been the most steadiest job I've ever had,” Hidan said as he wiggled his eyebrows at his friends before finally shoving them both off the couch so he could get up and they could all start scrounging around for every last piece of cash and loose change they could find.

Thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are always appreciated and loved.

#hidan #kakuzu #itachi #deidara #akatsuki #they are all idiots in this #3 sentence ficathon #way more than 3 sentences #crack treated seriously #hope this is funny #i haven't written anything funny in a while #hidan actually being the voice of reason? it's less likely than you think but he does have a halfway decent idea here #hope that read more works skfjjkj #zombiehoneymoonfics

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Study in Blue and Gold- Chapter Seven

I'll try and keep up with the chapter a day posts, pretty down about how much of a flop this fic has been- but never mind! I still loved writing it 😊

Be sure to check out the incredible art by @korruptbrekker for this fic here! I hope you love it as much as I do!

Thank you once again to my Beta and friend @the-duke-of-nuts for all of his support 😊💚🖤💚

Read this chapter on Ao3 here

Read from the beginning on Ao3 here

Just a filler chapter and no warnings I can think of 😊

I'm not getting too involved... Am I?

As the third day moved into the afternoon, Janus knew that he had made a good choice to let everything stew for a while before making his inevitable contact with the Detective. He sat in his office once again and had news channels playing constantly, watching as the press made up their own little stories while interpreting the facts incorrectly. He monitored the internet articles closely, and he printed off all of the ones that he came across, especially the ones that focused on the Detective. As he pinned more news articles to the cork board opposite the desk, it made him chuckle that they still hadn’t named him as the one behind the robbery, not even an implication… which meant the police had forced a blackout on certain pieces of information. They were more concerned about getting that precious crown back. He hadn’t decided yet, maybe he would return it into the Detective’s capable hands as a reward for solving the case.

In that moment, Janus was hit with an idea. He didn’t want this little cat-and-mouse game to end, it had been far too interesting, and it been the most exciting thing to happen to him for months. What if he could come up with more puzzles to keep the Detective playing? It would mean that he would have to part with more of his treasures as a result, but all of those artefacts that they had stolen over the years were just gathering dust in the trophy room. He couldn’t even remember the last time they had actually put anything in there… apart from the crown and the scepter of course. Janus grabbed some paper and a pen as he began to think of some ideas for these puzzles. They had to be difficult, more than that if he was going to even get the Detective’s attention. There was an ongoing case of his that would do very nicely.

However, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as he looked at all of the other paperwork on the desk. The boys had been bringing him different deals that he could easily had made but he had rejected them, and he had forgotten a deadline for a blackmailing scheme over these three days that he had been working on for months. He had never got so consumed by a game before, Janus always kept his distance so he could never be compromised. There was something about this though; playing against someone of his wit, his level… it was too captivating, and he couldn’t give it up.

There was a knock at the door, and he didn’t even get to respond before it opened to show an angry but concerned Remus. The look in his eyes showed that he had something to say but was nervous to actually say it. There was an uncomfortable silence before Janus finally spoke in an attempt to shatter the ice that had suddenly formed around them.

“Do come in, why don’t you?” Janus remarked with sarcasm, enough to get a small smile out of Remus. For someone who was never afraid to speak his mind, this was uncharacteristically weird. He took a deep breath and Janus listened intently.

“Boss. I’ve heard some of the boys talking. They think you’re getting too involved. They’re concerned that if you keep playing around with that Detective, he’s gonna find us and shop us to the cops! I don’t wanna get fucking arrested, Boss. None of us do!” Janus looked over in shock. In all the years he has no Remus, he has never seen or heard desperation, and it was a shock to the system. Remus was the tough one after all, the brawn to Janus’ brains.

Janus walked over and placed a hand on Remus’ shoulder. Time to do what he did best, talk.

“Hey, hey. That’s not going to happen okay? This whole game, the only people that will come out winning will be us. I’ve been watching the Detective for a long time now… I want to take him down several pegs, he needs to get off the pedestal the police force have put him on as their golden boy. If we keep playing him, make him feel like he’s winning… the victory at the end will be far sweeter. Trust me, I have everything worked out.” Remus looked up at him skeptically and Janus just smiled in response.

“Now, I’ve got a meeting to arrange. Do me a favour? Put that crown and scepter in a box… it’s about time we give it back… just so the news has something else to talk about because it’s irritating me… and tell the boys that we’re safe.” Remus nodded and turned to leave the room. He glanced at Janus once more with concern, Remus was sure that Janus was right, but he couldn’t just ignore that doubt dancing away in his mind. There was nothing he could do now; he would just have to make sure that the doubting thoughts didn’t interfere with his work. After Remus closed the door behind him, Janus breathed a sigh of relief before taking his phone out of his pocket and text the Detective yet again. It didn’t matter if there was no reply to it this time, he was getting something better. As he grabbed his capelet from the back of his chair before getting ready to leave, he smiled as the excitement kicked in.

They were going to meet face to face, in one hour.

Logan spent the third day in the lab with Virgil, he found that being the lab was the best place for him to concentrate on paperwork. That was the only downside when it came to closing a case, all of the reports he had to write. He glanced at his phone as the time lit up, how was it already 5:55pm? It felt like he had only been there for five minutes, not five hours. It was calm here though, the sterile white walls and clean smell made it a much more productive work environment with no distractions. Virgil was busy diligently marking up the remaining evidence and not making any small talk, something that Logan greatly appreciated. Virgil understood that small talk was not a strong suit, it was why he valued him as a colleague, as a friend.

Virgil kept looking at Logan whenever he was looking down at the paperwork. He always looked so peaceful when he was concentrating, it was hard not to stare. Virgil kept taking deep breaths, building up the courage to do something he was meaning to do for months now. Today was the day that he was going to ask if he wanted to go for coffee. As he catalogued the final bag of evidence he rationalised everything one more time in his mind. ‘Remember Vee, don’t make a big deal out of it… If he says yes, then great. If he says no, pretend that it’s totally cool and brush it off like it was nothing… Just hurry up and do it!’

He put the final evidence bag away before heading over the Logan, he hated disturbing him, but if not now. When would he ask?

“Logan?” He asked timidly, almost too quietly. Logan did thankfully hear him though and he smiled politely.

“Yes, Virgil? Is there something you need? I’m nearly done with these. You can head home if it’s the end of your shift.” Virgil smiled at how concerned he was, it was sweet. He shook his head as he felt the nerves consume him once again.

“No, no. It’s my break actually. I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to t-take a break and go get…” Logan’s phone notification rang loudly, the noise reverberated around every wall. Part of Virgil was disappointed, but another part was extremely relieved that he probably wouldn’t need to finish his question.

Logan immediately snatched his phone from the counter and eagerly read the text waiting for him.

Congratulations on solving my little puzzle, Detective Phoenix. How about you give me some feedback on how I did? Come the address below in an hour. Don’t keep me waiting… I promise I’ll play fair.

Logan practically beamed like Christmas had come early for him. He leapt off his seat, stacked all the finished paperwork in a neat pile before throwing on his coat and scarf. Logan nodded at Virgil before pacing quickly out the door, letting it slam behind him. Virgil waited for a moment before the anxiety became too much. Who sent him that text? Why would he leave so quickly without saying a word? He had a nagging thought that Janus Hyde was somehow involved… but he couldn’t see the text, so it was impossible to know. Then the anxiety kicked up another gear, so many more questions flooded Virgil’s mind. What if it was a trap? What if Logan got hurt? He would never forgive himself if something happened and he could have been there to help. Virgil went to call Patton but remembered that he was questioning the security guard all day then completing paperwork late into the evening.

There was no choice. Virgil ran out of the lab and followed Logan onto the street. When he saw him get into a taxi, he raced to his own car parked a little further down the road. He waited until the taxi began to move before setting off behind them at a distance. He gripped the steering wheel tight, watching the taxi diligently, with one thought in his mind.

Whatever was going on, he would keep Logan safe, that was a promise

#a study in blue and gold #sherlock au #ts logan #ts virgil #ts janus #ts remus #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides

[greywoodrpg]

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕖 𝕕𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕧𝕒

he was born twenty-eight years ago, is a werewolf, lives in wolf crossing as a detective and is in no pack. he looks an awful lot like rafael l. silva.

"Spent my life falling apart, Halfway blind, crashing the car, Setting fires, hiding my scars from view."

tw: death, murder

Charlie was raised in a happy home, an only child. Charlie found happiness in watching his father work, who was the chief of police for a small town. Charlie was fascinated with how his father would work. Watching the files on his father’s desk, rise and fall every day depending on how his father was able to solve and close anything the passed over his desk. But things changed for the family when Charlie turned ten. A case landed on his father desk. Two missing girls. Charlie’s dad, Arthur didn’t want to call in the FBI. Wanting to keep it in house, as he believed that he would be able to solve it. Charlie noticed his father would work longer and longer hours, the office door that was always opened to Charlie was soon closed. Then one of the girls turned up dead and another girl went missing. Arthur was feeling the pressure, but still refused to call in help. One night after a long day at the station, Arthur came home and got into a fight with his wife, where he snapped and killed his wife. Stabbing her. Unbeknown to Arthur, Charlie saw everything.

Arthur was soon arrested and charged for the murder, of his wife. Charlie was sent to live with his auntie and uncle, who tried to shield Charlie from the gossip and talk that follow the family. Theories went around that Arthur was in fact the one that kidnapped the girls, and killed one of them. That the guilt became too much, and that he got tired of hiding who he was. That some how Arthur’s wife found out the truth and he had silence her. Charlie’s auntie and uncle, soon moved Charlie away, to shield him and keep him safe. But Charlie never forgot about what happened.

Charlie soon joined the police force, wanting to become a cop and try and run out the shadow of his father that always seemed to loom over him. Charlie felt like he something to prove, that he wasn’t his father. Even though Charlie changed his last name, everyone knew who he was. The story of his father, the theories and what he did were in every paper across the country. Police stations across the country were told, files upon file were written and it was used for training.

During the first few months on the job, Charlie was on a routine call. A disturbance in an abandoned building, they had a few youths causing havoc in the area. Charlie didn’t think much of it, being called out to the area before. Upon entering, something jumped out at him and attacked him. Charlie tried to fight back but soon lost consciousness. Charlie woke three days later in hospital. Left side wrapped in bandages and being told that whatever attacked him was long gone when they turned up and were looking into find the person.

Charlie soon learnt that it what attacked him, wasn’t human But instead something else. Something that Charlie would find in stories his mother would tell him. Rather than being scared of what was happening, Charlie embraced it. Hoping that the wolf would help him become a better person and protect those around him. Charlie worked his way though the ranks, he kept focus on work. Not wanting any distractions. But soon distraction made it way in his life, in the form of another cop named Daniel Benson. Charlie told Daniel no many times, for a date. Where Daniel would smile or laugh, and tell Charlie he will give in soon enough. And give in he did. Charlie and Daniel soon were dating, and falling more and more in love. Charlie promised that once he made detective that he would marry Daniel. Daniel laughed and smile, telling Charlie he would give in before hand. Once again, Daniel was corrected and they were soon married two years after they first started dating. Charlie soon worked his way through the last of the ranks, and made detective.

Then their world fell down around them. During a call out, Charlie, his unit, Daniel and his unit were caught in a shoot out from a know gang. Many cops were shot during the shoot out, one of which was Daniel. Charlie was only feet away from his husband but was unable to help him. Daniel died in Charlie’s arms, the paramedics weren’t able to get to him in time. Charlie refused to seek help, telling everyone who asked that he was fine. That he didn’t need time, he just wanted to work. Charlie once again threw himself into work, His higher ups soon decided that Charlie was becoming a hazard, his temper was becoming a problem. And they didn’t know it, but Charlie was losing control of his wolf. They decided that Charlie should be transferred to a different area, some where away from all the pain and sufferings he went through.

“what power did he attain when settling in greywood?”

None

penned by... bec

#town rp #mature rp #oc rp #supernatural rp #horror rp #literate rp #taken #werewolf #rafael l silva fc #death tw #murder tw

[legendreign-archived]

Scarlet has broken into the Detective's apartment…yet again. This wasn't the first or last time the female Phantom Thief would attempt to commit such an offense. Plus, it was rather amusing that he believed that his high-tech security was enough to keep the unwanted thief from his home.

While resting her head on both of her hands, she waited patiently until she heard the key unlock the door. Scarlet bit her lip and counted down to three before perking up and wishing him. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" She cheered before rolling her eyes at his expression. "Yes! Before you arrest me, look what I got for you…" She pointed to a cake and age-old red wine next to it. And his apartment looked a little cleaner and neater than the last time the man had laid eyes on it. "Pfft no, I didn't spike the cake and wine…this time." Soon, carelessly wrapping her arms around his neck. "Spare me this wonderous occasion to celebrate you getting a year older."

Happy Birthday Masaru! / Accepting! / @featherchan

The security people had a duty to make sure his home was secured but Kaitou Scarlet could get past the alarms at will which was aggravating... Although work had been weary as usual, there were people he cared about who wished him a good day like his parents, twin, and cousins who called him, his partner, Yukio Kasamatsu, Officer Kagami, and the dear rookie cop, Officer Otonashi. Plus, his work mates threw him a bit of a celebration before he started heading home. When Masaru got home, all he wanted was just to wind down and relax but when he opened the door, the woman he wanted to arrest was there!

"What the hell, bitch?!"

Kaitou Scarlet must've found out about his birthday somehow. Creep. She really wanted to stack onto her criminal charges and rot. Naturally, Masaru's first instinct was to reach for the handcuffs in his pocket, but she told him to look at what she got him...

"You cleaned my apartment?" He didn't clean it until he had an off day although he made an effort to keep it presentable.

However, he was suspicious about the food she brought him because she had spiked food before... And yet he found himself weakening a bit under her touch...

#featherchan #ch: Masaru #Detective Kato #Happy Birthday Masaru #long post tw #( Thank you for the ask! XD )

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Angelo Espinosa/Skin:

Angelo gets to wear his lawyer hat, this time helping out new arrival Match.

Angelo looked up as the door opened, smiling slightly. "I wear a lot of hats. But yeah, today I'm this lawyer. How can I help?"

“‘m lookin for advice,” he started before frowning, brows knitting together as he tried to make his words make sense. “Or like, fake papers or something. Long story short, last year I got arrested when I, ya know, got all fiery for the first time, and as far as the state was concerned I’m too dangerous to be on the streets. Like that worked out for them.” The last sentence was accompanied by a short laugh. “So what’s the law say?”

Angelo got up to nudge the door closed, then turned back to Match. "I'm not really the guy to talk to about fake papers, but if that's what you need, I can point you to the right people. As for the law, did they charge you with anything?"

"Nah, I don't think fake papers are actually for me, I was just makin' shit up." Match zeroed in on the man as he moved, wariness setting on his face for a moment before slowly ebbing away. Loudly, he cleared his throat and raised a hand to count off the charges that had been thrown around when he'd been arrested. "Resisting arrest, destruction of public property, they threw in disorderly conduct on top of that just for fun I think, reckless conduct —which is apparently different —and slap a 'lack of registration of dangerous mutant power' or whatever and no parents and there you go. So, what are my options?" Any sarcasm left as he fixed Angelo with a firm gaze, waiting.

Angelo listened carefully, thinking it over. "How'd you get to where we found you? Did they release you, or did you escape? I can work with whichever it is."

Match stayed silent for a moment as he tried to pick his next words. "There was a malfunction or something with the power dampener they'd had on site of the holding cell I got taken to. I wasn't in the system yet, and, I don't know, I just ran. Postman and Trader found me and I stayed with them until, well, until I burned my house down."

“You weren’t in the system yet? That could be good for us. Did they know your name?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’d gotten some warnings so the cops who picked me up knew my name.” His face darkened a touch, jaw tightening before he shook his head. “But I didn’t get printed or anything. Is that good?” It seemed like it would be good but he was unsure.

"It might be. It depends." Angelo offered a crooked grin. "Mostly on how lazy they were and whether they wanted to do paperwork on a prisoner who was never officially there and explain how they let you escape."

Match nodded along, as if he understood, and part of it made sense to him. In fact, he straightened himself up a little more, eyes brightening. "So, could you find out, or... wait, I guess, I mean this doesn't mean I can go home, does it?" And he deflated, the weight of everything seemingly coming down on him fully for the first time since they'd brought him back.

"Not yet", Angelo said apologetically. "Not until we get that straightened out - and yeah, if there's a warrant out for you, I can find out. And we can keep you in touch with your grandma and anyone else you want, without anybody tracking you."

#moment of awesom #skin #match #plot #plots #xprpg #xproject #phase 2

[back-and-totheleft]

After The Fall

“Man looks in the abyss. There’s nothing staring back at him. At that moment, man finds his character. And that is what keeps him out of the abyss.”

—Lou Mannheim (Hal Holbrook) in Wall Street

In Oliver Stone’s new film, World Trade Center, a rescue worker stands atop a pile of steaming rubble, planning his descent into the inferno below. “I need a medic up here,” he yells. “Anybody a medic?”

“I used to be a medic,” comes a voice from the darkness.

A tiny figure scrambles up the base of the hill like a large bug. As he passes into the light, we see that it’s Frank Whaley, an actor who got his start with appearances in Stone’s Born on the Fourth of July, The Doors and JFK.

“My license lapsed,” the figure says. “I had a few bad years. But I’m good.”

Such is the legacy of Stone — a towering figure in modern film who always seems to be wrangling his own personal demons — that it is almost impossible not to read a scene like that autobiographically. A three-time Oscar winner as both writer (Midnight Express) and director (Platoon and Born on the Fourth of July), Stone has spent much of the past dozen years surrounded by controversy or chaos: His satirical tabloid blitzkrieg Natural Born Killers caused novelist John Grisham to accuse him of engendering real-life murders. Nixon, his oddly sympathetic portrait of the ex-president, eluded liberals and conservatives alike. The jumpy, kinetic editing style he employed in the day-for-noir U Turn and the pro-football pageant Any Given Sunday inspired longtime Stone critic Elvis Mitchell to label the latter “the world’s first ADD epic.”

Then the first of two HBO documentaries (Comandante) on Fidel Castro was shelved for being too sympathetic, while a subsequent portrait of Yasser Arafat (Persona Non Grata) saw Stone’s crew fleeing Ramallah four hours before the Israeli army attacked the Palestinian leader’s compound. (A third film, expected to profile either Kim Jong-Il or Saddam Hussein, was canceled.) He has been arrested twice — in 1999 and 2005 — for DUI and possession of marijuana, respectively. During an appearance at HBO’s “Making Movies That Matter” panel at Lincoln Center in October 2001, he allegedly made inflammatory remarks regarding the September 11 attacks, earning him scorn and ridicule in The New Yorker and elsewhere. Most painfully, when Stone, in 2004, finally realized his 20-year obsession to make Alexander, a sweeping history of Alexander the Great filmed on three continents, the film failed to find a domestic audience.

Now comes World Trade Center, a delicate, contained and extremely powerful evocation of our 2001 national trauma, starring Nicolas Cage and Michael Peña as John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, New York City Port Authority cops who were miraculously excavated from beneath the glowing rubble of Building No. 7. In an odd way, it brings Stone’s career full circle: His first student film, Last Year in Viet Nam, made at NYU in 1970 (for film professor Martin Scorsese), opens with a panorama of southern Manhattan and what would have been the Twin Towers, except that they weren’t completed until January 1972. But in another respect, World Trade Center may be Stone’s most subversive film yet — a rousing, populist, patriotic adventure story that kicks the legs out from under the right-wing criticism marshaled against him. It could prove the ultimate irony that the bête noire of American conservatives — the man who profiled right-wing death squads in Salvador, My Lai–like atrocities in Platoon, hostile takeovers in Wall Street, the anti-war movement in Born on the Fourth of July and, most notably, the fecund proliferation of Kennedy-assassination conspiracy theories in JFK — may find his most enthusiastic audience among the very partisans who have heretofore decried his lifetime of work. As no less a cultural observer than Mel Gibson said of Stone in the 1997 thriller Conspiracy Theory, “He’s a disinformation junkie for them. The fact that he’s still alive says it all. He probably should be dead, but he’s not.”

In person, Stone has an infectious laugh, seems genuinely engaged and takes the full measure of my questions before answering, at which point his ideas often come so fast they seem to be skipping across the surface of the conversation. He’s also the most fun kind of intellectual, in that he perpetually appears to be trying to figure himself out. Briefly a classmate of George W. Bush’s at Yale, he seems — at least on the evidence of our wide-ranging, three-hour discussion — to have absorbed a good deal more of its freshman syllabus. We spoke at his West L.A. editing suite, where he is currently preparing a three-hour, 45-minute DVD-only “road show” version of Alexander, complete with intermission.

L.A. WEEKLY: Where were you on the morning of September 11, 2001?

OLIVER STONE: L.A. Asleep. My wife put the TV on.

And what did you think was happening?

It was sensational. It was exciting. It was horrifying. It reminded me in its barbarity and ferocity of the French Revolution — the tumbrels, heads falling. And I had feelings of anger in me, and vengeance. I had a fight with my son, actually, because he was much more objective about it: “How do you know? Don’t assume anything. You’re acting like the mob.” But there were other feelings as well. You know, I realize I’m an older person; I’ve seen Vietnam and a lot of death and shit. Oklahoma City was horrible. JFK’s assassination. Watergate. The 2000 election. We’ve been through our times of shit in this country, so this was another version.

World Trade Centeris very powerful — emotionally powerful. I had a very visceral reaction to it. I think it’s obviously the film, but it’s also more than the film — it’s the fact that the subject matter is so loaded. If you make a film about fire jumpers, and a fire jumper comes to see it, he’ll say, “Well, you got this part right, you got this part wrong.’?” With this film, we’re all fire jumpers. It’s also very different from a lot of your other films — it’s gentle and contained and quiet. I’m wondering if you had to devise a different approach because the subject matter was so delicate.

I just want to say first that the way I look at myself — it’s not necessarily in the result — but with every film, I really have made an effort to make each one an island unto itself in this little sea that we go around in our ships. And every island has been a destination, a stop for a period of time. I’ve tried to take a different style for every film, because it’s the story that comes first, and the subject dictates the style. Even with something like Natural Born Killers, which seems very stylistic and eccentric, it’s still the content that I think is valid and important. With this film, certain things presented themselves: Obviously, the sensitivities of everyone involved, but ultimately that’s the sky around the project. With JFK, for instance, there were his children to think of, Jackie was still alive, Teddy Kennedy. Blowing his head off in Dealey Plaza didn’t go down well with them either. But there was a bigger story to tell.

Here we were limited by movement, so we worked out a style by which, methodically, the film would go in and out of light: Light would fight with the dark, or rather, light would try to make it up to the dark. Claustrophobia is an issue with a film like this. I did Talk Radio, so I know that feeling of being on one set the whole time. Also, Born on the Fourth of July: That was a very contained movie, in a way, because we had a young man in a wheelchair in the second half, where there’s very little movement. When I read this script, I said, “How do we make this movie watchable? How do we make the tension manageable for a mainstream audience?”

It may surprise a lot of people that you’re not using a lot of shock cuts, moving around inside the frame — what you’ve termed your “cubist” style.

Well, where can you move in a hole? A hole is limited. Finding the right point of view in the hole is crucial.

You once said about Platoon, “I felt like if I didn’t do it now, I’m going to forget.” We’re five years out from 9/11 now, and there is much public hand-wringing about whether it’s too soon yet to deal with this subject matter.

I think it’s a bogus question. The consequences of that day are far worse today. More people have died since then because of the war on terror. There’s more war, there’s more fear, and there is constitutional breakdown left and right. Have the good sense to go to the psychiatrist quickly. If you’ve been raped, talk to somebody about what that day itself was like before you build up all this armor.

You pursued this film, correct?

Yes. Petitioned. My agent, Bryan Lourd, a man of taste, said to me, “Look, I read this script two weeks ago — it stays with me, it’s emotional. I don’t know if it will make a dime, I don’t know if I can get it financed, but just read it.” So I read it, and I said, “My God, I never thought of this — to do 2001 this way.” I knew [World Trade Center producers] Michael Shamberg and Stacy Sher. But no one would make it; Universal dropped it at the [proposed] budget. I was doing other things, I wasn’t stopping my life. But then it came back around. Paramount was just coming into being [under new management]. We were very lucky, because that new studio energy was coming in, and they wanted to make it so badly that it happened right away.

And did you talk with the producers about politics — if there would be a political viewpoint that informed the story?

There was no room for it, because John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno were not interested in politics, per se. They don’t talk about politics like you and I do. Their lives are not determined by it; they live according to what is given them. So it never entered into the equation. I loved the script [by Andrea Berloff] as it was. I loved the inspiration of the story. So I vowed to stay inside those parameters.

New York is probably the most liberal city in America, and yet the 9/11 attack has been so politicized, its imagery considered so proprietary, that right-wing skepticism has been mounting steadily against you since this project was announced. A story in The New York Times said the film is being strategically marketed to right-wing opinion leaders using the PR firm that advised the Swift Boat Veterans group. It even quoted the conservative National Review Web site as saying, “God Bless Oliver Stone.”

I knew [the studio] was doing grassroots marketing to everybody — Hispanics, cops, firemen, teachers, church groups. I didn’t know that they had hired a specific firm; I found out that day. I’m pleased they like it, because it goes beyond politics.

Could you foresee a left-wing backlash against the film?

If people on the right are responding with their hearts, I’m all for it. But if they’re making it into a political statement, it’s wrong. Those on the left might say, “Oh, this is a simplified context, and these are simplistic working-class values. You’re not showing a wider political context.” Or secondly, that we’re sentimentalizing the event — which would be unfair, because I think there’s a lot of grit there. But this is a populist film. We’ve said that from the beginning. In our hearts, it was a Frank Capra type of movie. And he didn’t necessarily get great notices.

In an odd way, I was reminded of Preston Sturges’ Hail the Conquering Hero — a wartime comedy that pokes fun at the notion of patriotism and, by extension, patriotic movies but which, by the end, almost subversively, fills you with this patriotic fervor. I’m wondering if you see this as your “Nixon in China” moment: Only the director of Nixon and JFK could get away with a film where the most heroic character is an ex-Marine who consults with his pastor before putting himself in harm’s way.

That character, Dave Karnes, is an unlikely hero. He goes to church — that’s a documented thing; he checks with his pastor in a born-again church before he goes down to Manhattan. He evaded the authorities. Get it done; that’s a Marine thing. I think you can argue that the Marine is an ambivalent character, because at the end of the movie, this sense of vengeance is what fuels the wrong war in Iraq.

But for him it’s the right war.

For him it’s the right war. That’s correct. I think if you really look at JFK or at Nixon, which are the two political films I did uncensored in my career — which is amazing unto itself — JFK is neither right nor left, and was attacked equally by the left, who did not like the Kennedy figure of 1963. It was done in the centrist tradition of American dissent: It questioned government and the authority of government. So I was taken aback that the right made such a big issue out of it. I suppose, because they were in office [when the film came out]. But they had never done that historically. They would have been on the side of the investigation; [Barry] Goldwater may well have been. JFK was not a bunch of fantasies strung together. It involved an enormous amount of research — as much as World Trade Center, if not more.

You could make the same argument about Nixon. You took the dominant political figure in our lifetime and gave him the Shakespearean treatment his life cried out for.

It was a psychological point of view. The right wing thought it was going to be a hatchet job; instead, it made him a human being. Unfortunately, in my career, I have spoken out between films, and that’s what’s gotten confused with the films themselves. I think the focus has been lost. Somewhere along the line, I guess, I said, “Look, I’m a filmmaker, but I’m also John Q. Citizen, and things piss me off. I have a right to say, if people ask me and they’re interested, what I fucking think.” And that’s the line I’ve always gotten in trouble with. It’s always between the films, if you look at the statements I’ve made. There’s nothing in the films themselves, as far as I know, that’s really offensive politically.

How much of the criticism against you do you think is organized for partisan political gain?

I’ve always wondered that — especially in the ’90s, after the JFK situation. You have to wonder: Will it come out one day in a government file? You hear about those programs from the ’50s and the ’60s. I was so grateful that Michael Moore came along. He helped me.

He seems to enjoy it. Maybe it’s the counterpart to how the left treats Charlton Heston.

Charlton Heston once said in an interview, “People like Oliver Stone would never hire me in the new Hollywood.” And I went out of my way on Any Given Sunday to hire him. I loved him. I said, “Forget politics, I love your character.” Political reputation pigeonholes you, and in a society that’s very busy, it’s an easy way to get rid of having to think too much about people and what they’re saying. I’m a dramatist; I’m a humanist. I protest.

There’s one line in World Trade Center — I think we hear it on a TV monitor in an office at the Port Authority — where the announcer says, “. . . the shock of the explosion that was coincidental with the two towers coming down,” and then you move on to something else. Was the suggestion that an unexplained explosion might have accompanied the towers’ demise the one seed of doubt you intentionally planted in an otherwise apolitical movie?

Well, I think that all reality is questionable, as you know. Frankly, I’m not an expert on that at all. And I haven’t pursued it, because I think the consequences of where we are now are far worse. But even if there was a conspiracy, it wouldn’t change where we are now. We’re into another place, where there’s more war, more terror, more bankruptcy, more debt, above all more constitutional breakdown and more fear than ever before. That’s very serious. And we’re on the edge of possibly something bigger and very dangerous. Richard Clarke’s book [Against All Enemies: Inside America’s War on Terror], at least, is about a true conspiracy that we know existed, of a small group who took over the government and did it their way — manipulated, created the war. It’s 30 or 40 people, right?

Sy Hersh says it’s 11 guys.

It was a conspiracy, and it was basically at the top. It’s Cheney and Rumsfeld influencing Bush. Cheney and Rumsfeld go back to the Ford administration, and when they got their way, they kicked butt. That’s a great story. But that’s not even all of it. When you’ve got a guy like Representative Pete Hoekstra from Michigan, who was a friend of the Bush administration — who had approved of the Patriot Act, the eavesdropping, the taxes, the bank records, all of it — saying in the press that there’s something worse that he’s pissed off about, because they hadn’t consulted him. Something worse? I mean, all the cards are not on the table, right? This is a big story. And we’re living it. How can you write about it? We’re fucking rocking in the boat. It’s like trying to write a great war novel when you might be going into World War II.

Were you at Yale the same time Bush was?

I was in the same class, yeah. I don’t remember him. I was never in a fraternity. I went twice — I dropped out one year and then went back for half of a second year and dropped out.

But at one point Bush requested to meet you, didn’t he?

Yeah, I met him. It was a political breakfast speech here in California at a club, the Republican right wing. They invited me — they’ve always had fun with me, I don’t know why — and it was a big hotel room and a speech about tough love and justice in Texas. He was governor then, around ’98 or so. I swear, I knew in that room on that day that he was going to be president. There was just no question. He had that confidence, and they adored him. There was an organized love for him. He asked for me to come up to the podium and we had a one-on-one. I was in the Bush spotlight — that thing where he stares at you and he gets to know you a little bit.

Assigns you a nickname.

There was one funny line. He knew I’d been in Vietnam. Actually, I didn’t know he’d been at Yale. He told me he’d been in my class; it was a surprise to me. But then he said he’d had a buddy who had been to Vietnam who’d been killed. “Buddy,” he said. It was funny — it was on his mind, he raised it. And it was the way he looked at me: I just felt like, boy, I bet you he’d rather his buddy had come home than me. But he was very friendly, very charming — a very sociable man.

Have you ever thought about going into politics — running for office? Would you consider doing that in a later part of your life?

Not seriously, no.

Orson Welles wrote a weekly political newspaper column during WWII — he was friends with FDR through Sumner Welles, a distant relative of his and a presidential adviser, and at one point he considered running for the Senate from California or his native Wisconsin.

Politics is about raising money and being popular and shaking a lot of hands and spending a lot of time with people. Those are not my strengths. It would be exhausting and would completely destroy my ability to do what I do.

You were pro-Vietnam before you enlisted in the infantry, right? You were fairly conservative?

Yes.

So we could say that you spent the entire 1960s across the political divide from most of what you’ve now come to stand for?

My story is complicated. I did write a novel about being 19 called A Child’s Night Dream. My parents divorced when I was 14, and being the only child, there was no family to go back to. Basically, going to Vietnam was really throwing myself to the wolves. It was a form of rebellion and suicide.

I’ve read a quote to the effect of, “I felt like I had to atone for the act of imagination.” Was it actually the failure of the novel that sent you over the edge?

After I left Yale the second time and finished the novel — I was writing the novel instead of going to class, and that’s why I flunked out — my father was supporting me, and that’s an impossible situation: 19 years old, your father is furious at you for the tuition that he’s lost, and you’re living in his apartment trying to finish a novel. It’s like Jack Kerouac moving back home with his mother. But I really believed in it: I was insane with passion. It was the only thing I had. I had no woman friends in my life. I had nothing to support me beyond that. And when that failed, I went into the Army with the idea of “Let God sort it out, whoever I am.” It’s egregious to think that you can be on the level of Mailer or any of your heroes — Hemingway, or Joyce; I was into Joyce heavily at the time.

Part of the fun of watching someone like you working without a net, from a distance, is charting the rises and falls of your career. And sometimes there are films that don’t hit right, that suffer because of the moment or the context — the sky around it, as you put it. I’m thinking specifically of Nixon, which was a commercial failure, but seems to get more sophisticated every time I see it. Or, more recently, Alexander.

I’ve had three big setbacks, in terms of being completely dismissed: Heaven and Earth, Nixon — by many people, at least — and Alexander. On Alexander, it was just devastating, because in America and England, the numbers were so tough. It wasn’t just that people didn’t like it. It was ridiculed. It was destructive criticism. Meanwhile, in the rest of the world we were connecting, we were among the top 20 films of that year in the foreign market. We did better than four of the five Oscar nominees abroad. It was well respected.

Why didn’t Alexander connect? Do we agree that it didn’t connect with English-speaking audiences?

I like the director’s cut better than the first version, because I had more time to prepare it. And the structure is different. It wasn’t because of the homosexuality — that’s a red herring. The mother’s back story and father’s back story, which are really essential, don’t come in until later. We’re doing a third, expanded version now — we’re going all out. This is not for theatrical; it’s for the people who love the film who want to see more of it. It’s the Cecil B. DeMille treatment — three hours and 45 minutes. What I’m doing is going back and showing the whole thing in its sumptuousness, really going with the concept that it had to be an old-fashioned movie, with an intermission, like a road show. Be a showman, instead of trying to be a responsible filmmaker. Go all out on this one. This is my Apocalypse Now, my DeMille epic. [The first time] I was trying to step up to the plate, so to speak. I should have pulled it back, taken an extra year like Marty did with Gangs of New York. But it would have cost a lot of money.

In Oliver Stone’s America, the documentary included with the DVD box set of your films, you say, “I’ve always admired Alexander because of the momentum and the speed with which he traveled and conquered. In my small metaphoric way, I would say the countries were films, and I moved through them like him . . . he’s striking everywhere. I think it was great. We had a great run. But it’s definitely a new phase.” Is Alexander the figure you most closely identify with?

I am a Method director to a certain degree. I do become part of what I shoot. And I think with Alexander, the perception is of hubris, certainly — “Alexander the Great? Who the fuck is he? He thinks he’s Alexander.” I could see that coming. But I always knew who Oliver Stone was. I never lost track of that. And I made the film humbly, in 94 fucking days on three continents. I ran the crew like I always run the crew. Nothing changed in my habits. I walked in the deserts, we shot in a sandstorm once, and it was the same old Oliver who did Salvador. Hubris is taking 110 days on some stupid comedy. That’s an insult to filmmaking the way I was raised. I’m sticking to NYU principles, and I still do to this day. Movies are a tradition; we didn’t invent it — we take it from somebody else and pass it on.

But with Alexander, you faced a challenge like you’ve never faced before, because no matter how bruising the attacks on JFK and Nixon, your core audience was always still with you. For whatever reason, Alexander failed to connect with an audience.

Yeah. In America.

In America. I don't wish to judge it; this is an empirical observation.

No, it didn't connect. Alexander is the high point of my life, and it always will be. I’m not asking for universal love on that; it’s just impossible. It’s not paced to the American style, nor is he a conventional hero. He’s filled with doubts. But Alexander is a beautiful story, and I think I did him well. I mean, I wouldn’t have released it [otherwise]. But I can’t give up; I would never give up. I would be all wrong in my assessments of myself as I work. You have to hear your own self, follow your own drama, or whatever Thoreau said long ago at Walden Pond. [“Follow your genius closely enough, and it will not fail to show you a fresh prospect every hour.”] Alexander was a huge setback for me, and it certainly hurt me in this business. But you have to understand that people have been saying bad things about me for years. I don’t listen; I have to try to keep going.

I don’t want to make specious connections, but you’ve had several high-profile drug arrests in the last few years. Before that, you were making super nihilist films in an edgy, frenetic style. I'm wondering if these are all moving parts of the same phenomenon.

I’ve smoked dope and drunk alcohol most of my life, okay? Getting pulled over and arrested is a fault, it’s a mistake — a wake-up call. I did get busted a couple of times. One was at a roadblock, so it’s not like I was endangering anybody’s life. The other time, I got pulled over by a civilian cop; I was actually busted for driving too slow. And when the tests came back, I was below the intoxication level. Nobody knows that, because it never got published that way. I should get a chauffeur is what I fucking should do. [Laughs.]

But nobody cares if you smoke pot. They care if it affects the work, if it’s part of a larger problem.

Okay, but I don’t feel bad. I got heavier, physically, at certain points, and I think that gives the appearance of degradation, like Jim Morrison. But I did have a pre-diabetic condition through my mother, and I was on too much sugar. Any Given Sunday, I love that movie, but it was more effort than you think — it was like a three-ring circus, to make five football games in five stadiums work. It took so much energy. There were some problems with the crew on that film. So by the end of that movie, my doctor said I was too stressed, and at my age it was dangerous. There were some issues of medications and stuff, no question about it. But sports people love that movie. With Alexander, there’s a fan site where there are people who have seen it 50 times. They go to the sites in Macedon. They love the romanticism of it. So it’s confusing to me. I’ve tried every fucking time to get it right, even if I haven’t been in my best physical shape. I will get it right. Not everyone is going to agree with me, but I’m going to get it right.

With World Trade Center, it's your first time to deal with studio financing in a decade; you look better, healthier. Has your life changed? Is this a new start?

Your story is a journalistic narrative, and it’s a good one, about Oliver coming back after Alexander, and how there’s a change in his life. And I’ve somewhat agreed with it, but I’ve also pointed out that my methods have stayed the same. But it is about your storyline, in a way — about life. If you go to film school, and you think about your career traditionally, you arc up, in the sense that your budgets get bigger, the stars, whatever. There’s a nice arc to a man’s life. You make your better films later — it’s horrible if you’re Orson Welles, if you make your best film first. And Alexander was a chance to do something on another level entirely. So I reached a peak of ambition. And the ambition was perhaps not matched by my execution, although there are points in the execution that do match the ambition, I think. So then it died a metaphoric death. Point of view died with it, as it died when Heaven and Earth came out. That [movie] was a very sensitive side of myself that I loved — it was tender, and the woman was tender. And it was ridiculed and killed, and part of me, you know . . . those feelings were hurt and eradicated for a while. Same thing with Nixon. You want to get rid of the person after you finish. You want to go back to being who you are, but you’re no longer the same person, because your journey has changed.

And part of me did die [with Alexander] — that part that was enamored of “my very important storyline,” end of quote. Me being the storyline. I played it out. I did all my biographical figures. I have no need to be John or Will. I had a need to be Ron Kovic. I had a need to be Alexander. I had a need to be Nixon and Morrison and Garrison. That’s the change. So now I can be myself, maybe. I can be more authentic to myself. I think there was an attraction to go from the past into the contemporary world in its most hellish moment. It’s like I dropped out and I couldn’t get back in, until by going back to 2001, I could come back into this era. I feel liberated, in the sense that, not that it would be next, but I feel I could do a movie about those next five years. Not that I think it’s complete yet — I think there’s a lot going on that we don’t know about in the government. But I think there’s something in the air. I smell it, and I feel fresh again, having done something — my new, 24-hour, humble microcosm of that day. Wherever I go with World Trade Center, it’s going to spin off to wherever I go next.

-Paul Cullum, "After The Fall," LA Weekly, Aug 9 2006 [x]

#world trade center #la weekly #george w. bush #politics #alexander #oliver stone

[king-ofthe-ruckus]

Bruce, concerned about how no one takes care of Jerome: When was the last time someone opened the door for you?

Jerome: when i got arrested two weeks ago

#the time he got arrested last years the cops made him open the door for himself and laughed at his struggle #now some days he’ll wear handcuffs to practice. he is not letting them laugh without his intention again #jerome valeska #gotham #kotr #quotes

[babyboibucky]

Kinda Like It When You Lie

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Summary: You discover the reason why Chris has been lying to you about his whereabouts.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: le smut, le angst, le toxicity but a sorta happy ending I guess???

A/N: I tagged everyone in my Everything Bucky tag list because why not lmfao okay but no, I’m not sure how often I will be writing fics for Seb’s other characters so I won’t be having a separate tag list for that yet. If this isn’t something you’re not interested in, feel free to ignore skskks

I am dedicating this piece to @lookiamtrying​ who got so pissed off that her mans Chris got a lower vote count than Mickey (prior to the release of Monday) when I did my character fic survey lmfao ilysm, Mina!!! This was also inspired by FLETCHER’s If You’re Gonna Lie

MAIN MASTERLIST

Chris kissed you as if it was his last day on earth. It made your insides twist in a blissful way, the kind of kiss that literally took your breath away and made your head spin. You could feel your lungs burning up from the lack of oxygen and yet you didn’t want to pull away.

All you could focus on was how his lips moved against yours, how his tongue danced around your mouth as if he owned you. And in that moment, he really did.

You got lost in Chris— his taste, his rough palms against the smooth expanse of your skin, his weight on top of you as he pressed you down against the cheap motel bed.

It wasn’t until you tried to touch Chris that you realized he had restrained your wrists with something cold and hard. Pulling away from his fervent kiss, you glanced up and saw that he had both of your wrists handcuffed against the headboard.

Tugging at your wrists, you let out a chuckle. “What’re ya, a cop?” you asked.

Chris breathed out through his nose, “Kinda.” he rasped out before taking your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging at it before sliding his tongue back into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and opened up your legs to fully accommodate Chris’ huge build, his pelvis thrusting against your clothed core making you whine against his lips.

“You gonna arrest me or somethin’?” you asked playfully, tilting your neck to the side as you allowed Chris to nip at your skin, his thick beard scratching you much to your delight.

He pulled back to look at your eyes, “Only for stealin’ my heart, darling.”

-

What you thought was a one-night stand turned into something more. Not that you were complaining, in fact, you’d quickly fallen head over heels for Chris. How could you not when he was the most honest man you’d met in your entire life?

After that first night, Chris told you everything about him and his job. An FBI agent who needed to go undercover as a drug dealer in order to infiltrate a huge drug syndicate. He had been undercover for a while now and it was consuming, he said. That’s how you found him drinking alone at the bar you worked at.

“You planning to consume our entire stock of beers or what?”

Chris let out a breathy chuckle as you placed two more bottles of beer on his table. The man had been in the bar for hours now, drowning his miseries away since his arrival. You noticed him as soon as he sauntered into the bar— all beard and tattooed muscles on display with the denim vest he wore.

“I’m sorry.” he huffed out and you were surprised at how soft spoken he was despite his tough exterior. “Work’s been stressing me out, is all.” He explained with a firm smile.

You couldn’t help but return the gesture, “Thought you were stressin’ over your girl.” You smirked.

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “Got no girl to come home to.” He said, voice an octave lower and a little bit rougher.

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Man like you can easily find a solution to that.” You said and winked before heading back behind the bar, swaying your hips a little more than the usual.

By the time you reached the bar, you looked back at Chris and caught him staring with a certain look in his eyes.

The same look he would give you whenever you get mad at him for coming home late. The look that always won you over no matter what.

-

“You said you’d be home by eight, Chris. That was four hours ago.”

Chris rubbed his face and dropped his keys on the tray by the front door. You watched him with suspecting eyes as he trudged towards you, eyes tired yet apologetic.

“‘m sorry, sweetheart. Went out with the guys, you know how it is.” he said and tried to reach out to you but you were quick to step back.

“Could’ve texted me, y’know? I made dinner, your favorite. Got cold and decided to throw it in the bin when you didn’t show up.” you said, shaking your head in disappointment and turned around to retreat back into the bedroom.

Chris caught you and gripped your waist in his strong hands, preventing you from further walking away. He pulled your back against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck as he whispered apologies into your ear.

“I’m sorry, babe. Let me make it up to you, huh?” he murmured roughly into your ear. “Wanna make you feel good, make you forget my sins.” he teased, earning a soft chuckle from you.

He sucked the skin beneath your earlobe, making your knees weak and your core throb. Chris gently turned you around to face him until your eyes met his-- dark and still apologetic, you wondered why because you’d already forgiven him the moment his hands touched your skin.

Your question was immediately forgotten when Chris kissed you, tongue quickly finding its way into your mouth. His kisses were always so urgent, so hungry and feral.

He always kissed you as if it was the last time.

Clothes strewn everywhere, raspy grunts and high pitched moans, sweaty bodies moving against each other. Every single time you and Chris argued, it always ended the same way, with you giving in to his sweet words and hot touches.

A hand on your nape kept your cheek pressed down onto the mattress as Chris pounded you from behind. Laying flat on your stomach, you could feel every ridge and every vein of his cock as it dragged against your walls. Gripping the sheets tightly, your knuckles turned white as you slightly lifted your ass up earning a harsh spank from Chris.

“You fuckin’ like it when I fuck you rough?” he growled, spanking your ass again before squeezing it into his large hand.

You whimpered at the cold sensation of the rings on Chris’ fingers, wanting it to mark your skin as soon as he was done with you. You moaned when Chris pulled back until only the tip of his hard cock remained in your tight pussy. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes when he pushed your nape further into the mattress at the same time he slammed back in with such force that made you elicit a sound akin to a wail.

“Right there, Chris!” you wantonly pleaded, your drool soaking the sheets beneath you.

“I got you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good you’d forget what you were mad about.”

And forget you did, not just once, not twice. Not even thrice. Every single time Chris came home to you smelling like someone else’s perfume when he claimed to be out with his friends, you always ended up willingly forgetting about it. Chris had you wrapped around his finger and you knew it.

You knew he was lying about his whereabouts and the thing was, you chose to believe in it.

Because with each lie that slipped past his lips, came the sweetest apology followed by a promise to make you feel good and Chris always delivered.

You’d rather hear Chris’ lies than to hear his goodbye just so you can have him in your bed again and again and again.

-

The last lie you tolerated was when he forgot about your anniversary and came home the next day, all moody and grumpy. He went straight to the bathroom, mumbling about how he was tired from work and you didn’t know whether he was lying again or not.

You’d believed too many of his lies by now that you couldn’t even determine which ones were the truth and which ones weren’t.

“Happy anniversary to us, Chris. In case you forgot.” you said as soon as he got out of the shower.

Chris’ face fell, eyes refusing to meet yours from shame. He should be ashamed and so should you, because you’ve tolerated his lies for a year now and no matter how much you wanted to confront him, you always ended up forgiving him.

“Fuck.” he cursed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that...the buy bust operation was last night and it slipped my mind.” he said.

And there it was again, the look in his eyes that turned you into a moaning mess beneath him as soon as his lips found yours. Whenever Chris would lie, it always seemed to be so fucking worth it. Because he always fucked you senseless until you were stupid for him, enough to let him get away with his pathetic excuses.

But not tonight, because as Chris bent you in half with his cock slipping in and out of your wet cunt, you promised that this will be the last time you’d enjoy the aftermath of his lies.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more. Want this pussy to milk my cock dry, c’mon pretty girl.” he urged, slipping a hand in between your sweaty bodies, his thumb swiping at your clit until stars exploded behind your eyes.

His name was chanted out like a prayer, your lips red and swollen from being kissed and bitten. A few more hard thrusts and you felt Chris spill his seed into you, warm ropes of his cum painting your walls. He carefully slipped your legs off from his shoulders before laying down on top of you, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your chest as the both of you caught on your breaths.

“Where were you last night?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris turned his head to you, trying to read your face but you kept your gaze on the ceiling. Tears escaped your eyes as you laid on the bed, blinking them away when they wouldn’t stop spilling.

“I want the truth, Chris.” you added, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

The bed moved when Chris sat up, reaching for your face and turning it to wards him. Your lips were trembling, fighting back your sob. Chris closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“I don’t want your apology, Chris. I want the truth, please.” you begged.

“I can’t stay with you anymore.” he said.

You frowned and sat up, bringing the sheets up to cover your naked body. “Who’s she?” you asked. “I know you’ve been seein’ someone behind my back, I want to know. Who is she? ‘nother FBI agent? Or someone you met while you were undercover?” you were more of mad than hurt now, all your suppressed emotions finally resurfacing and begging to be released.

Chris swallowed and refused to meet your gaze, “It’s...it’s not like that.” he said.

“The fuck you mean, Chris?” you asked.

There was silence for a brief moment, as if Chris was gathering up all the courage he had left in him. And then he looked at you with the same guilty, apologetic eyes again. But it was different now because you knew that there wouldn’t be anymore lies which meant no more sweet talk and no more Chris in your bed until the next morning.

“I never cheated on you.” he huffed out. “I’ve always been...with Erin.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were a part of my undercover. The leader of the drug syndicate I was trying to infiltrate frequented the bar you worked at. Needed to get as much as information as I can and I easily got that when we started—”

Your hand trembled after landing a solid slap on Chris’ face. Your heart ached, your vision spun and suddenly, nothing made any sense to you anymore. All this time, you thought that was Chris was being unfaithful to you when in truth, he was cheating…with you.

Now you finally understood why he always kissed you as if it was the last time, why he looked at you with those apologetic eyes whenever he came home late, whenever he lied.

Chris told you the entire truth, that he was at the bar during an operation and not after. He manipulated you into believing that everything he told you were real, that he was a good and an honest man, that Erin was nothing but a partner at work.

“When you said you love me, was that a lie too?” you asked, voice breaking because this was too much. Everything was too much.

Chris held your face in between his hands, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks, “No. No, that wasn’t a lie. I do, I love you. As soon as the operation was done, I couldn’t say goodbye. I always said I’d tell you the truth but I couldn’t. I wish I hadn’t met you like this.” he reassured.

You pushed him away and covered your face with your hands, unable to believe that for an entire year, you’d dedicated your life and your love to someone who had been using you.

“Does she know about me?” you asked.

Chris nodded, “She does.”

You scoffed, “She fuckin’ pities me, doesn’t she? Probably told you to take your time, ‘cause the truth will fuckin’ ruin me.” you said and chuckled bitterly.

“You used me, Chris. Fuckin’ used me and made me a goddamn fool. Is Chris even your real name? Who the fuck are you?” you asked.

“I lied about everything except for two things. My name and when I said I love you.”

You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You’ve finally woken up, brought yourself back to consciousness and decided to accept that Chris was never honest and that not once did he become yours.

“Liar.”

-

Picking up the pieces of your broken trust was very much like working with the shards of a broken mirror. At times you came out unscathed but for the most part, you were left wounded and bleeding and in pain.

Putting all the broken pieces back together was definitely not easy and it took you years to do so. No matter how careful you were though, the mirror was never completed. There were ugly cracks and everywhere that you couldn’t hide and there was a missing piece. But that’s alright, because you tried to put yourself back together and you weren’t perfect but at least you did your best.

The bar you started working for was quite new, which explained how busy it was even on a slow Wednesday. It wasn’t as big as the old bar you used to work at, but this was newer and catered to a more classy crowd.

No rough bikers, no FBI agents going undercover, no funny businesses.

“Two bottles of beer for table seven.” your manager called out, “Thought it’d be slow today, boy was I wrong.” she commented to which you chuckled.

Taking out two ice-cold bottles from the fridge, you weaved through the crowd and tables until you reached your destination. Placing the bottles on top of the table, you asked the customer if he wanted to order something to go with his drinks.

Taking out your notepad, you finally looked up and was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes. You almost didn’t recognize Chris if it weren’t for those eyes. He was no longer sporting a buzz cut and had longer locks, his beard had grown out but was well-trimmed. His tattooed arms weren’t in full display and instead of the usual denim outfits he wore, he was merely clad in a plaid, maroon button down shirt.

“Hi.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, “Let me guess, you’re undercover and your target is a frequent customer here.” you said.

Chris laughed mirthlessly and shook his head, “I quit from that job years ago.” he said, much to your surprise.

“You stressin’ over your girl?” you asked.

“Got no girl to come home to...anymore.” Chris replied, those damn apologetic eyes making your knees weak once again.

You rolled your eyes at him and placed your notepad back in your apron, “If you’ve nothin’ else to order, then enjoy your beer. I guess.” you said and turned around but was quickly tugged back when Chris grabbed at your wrist.

Scowling at him, you eyed his hand and then back up at his eyes. They didn’t look apologetic though, you realized, he was giving you the same look but something was different.

You just didn’t know what changed.

“I did love you.” he said. “And I still do and I want to come home to you again.” he quickly added, tightening his grip around your wrist as if he was afraid to let you go.

Surprisingly, there was not an ounce of anger left in your heart. It had been a complete three years since the incident. He left you feeling used and broken but you managed to fix yourself. Not completely, but enough to find it in your heart to forgive Chris for what he did.

“I want to believe you, I really do. But it’s hard for me to do that now.” you explained.

Chris nodded in understanding, “I know but I want to start over again. Make things right, if you’d let me. No lies this time, just me and my truth.” he said, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the inside of your wrist.

Honesty. Pure and genuine honesty— that’s what changed in the way Chris looked at you. There wasn’t any guilt in there anymore, no hidden agendas and whatnot.

Just the truth and the missing piece you never knew you needed to complete your mirror.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @thatfangirl42​ @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24​ @sugarpunch-princess​ @enlyume​ @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp​ @lyoongx​ @just-deka​ @nobody-will​ @jaziona92 @elisebuitron​ @dpaccione​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x​ @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts​ @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

#bbb writes #oneshots: destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer!chris x you #destroyer!chris angst #destroyer!chris smut #sebastian stan

[cherienymphe]

Fallen Angels (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Bucky, mentions of kidnapping, NON-CON, trusting reader

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

This takes place in the same universe as Protect & Serve. You don’t need to read Protect & Serve to follow along as this takes place before Protect & Serve

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary:  Bucky thinks you’re the sweetest thing to grace this earth, and he’ll do the unspeakable to get what he wants

~

You heaved another sigh as you made your way up the steps to the police station. It was warm out, a soft breeze ruffling the bottom of your dress. The sun beat down on your face, making you squint, the heat only adding to your annoyance. You didn’t even know why you got annoyed anymore. It wasn’t as if this was exactly new for you.

“Y/N!”

You threw the woman behind the counter a small strained smile, shoulders sagging as you approached her.

“Hi, Jane,” you sadly said. “I’m here for my sister.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, nodding while returning your strained smile.

“Of course.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, turning away as she disappeared into the back. You swallowed, briefly reaching up to rub your forehead and resisted the urge to a sigh again. You couldn’t believe that you had to leave work yet again to come and deal with your sister’s neverending drama. 

You turned as soon as you heard a door open, watching a familiar face bring another familiar face into the room, his large frame making her look small. Officer Barnes greeted you with his usual smile while you returned it with a sheepish one. How many times had you watched him carry her through that door? How many times had you felt sheer embarrassment at her behavior? 

“Where was she?” you quietly asked.

“Stumbling through the park,” he said with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you breathed, genuinely meaning it. “I can never thank you enough.”

How many times had you thanked him?

“Hey,” your sister slurred, eyes bleary as she struggled in his firm hold, legs trembling. “Don’t talk about me...like I’m not here.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, and she rolled her eyes, head falling back.

You reached for her, but Officer Barnes shook his head.

“Let me help her to your car. It’s the least I can do,” he said.

You started to argue, but decided against it and swallowed your words. You led him outside, the mumblings of your drunk sister reaching your ears. He was gentle as he placed her into the passenger seat, and you frowned at her as she laid her head on the dashboard.

“Really, thank you,” you said, looking to him as soon as he shut the door.

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against your car as he gazed at you with a look you couldn’t place. He did that a lot.

“I can’t keep letting her off the hook forever, you know,” he told you, making your heart drop.

You knew that. You had known it for a while, probably since the second time. You didn’t know why Officer Barnes, and the station by extension, always let your sister off easy every time she was found drunk somewhere, but you were grateful nonetheless. You couldn’t keep taking advantage of his generosity though.

“How is Officer Wilson?” you asked, changing the subject.

The blue-eyed man smirked at the mention of his roommate and colleague.

“Still as much of a pain in my ass as ever,” he answered, making you chuckle.

“You know, as much as you insult him, I think you’d really miss him if something ever happened to him,” you said with a grin.

Officer Barnes joined you, eventually nodding with a smile of his own.

“You’re probably right. He’s still a pain though,” he agreed, walking with you to your side of the car.

You paused when you placed your hand on the door, swallowing with your eyes to the ground before looking to him again. You really couldn’t appreciate him enough, but like he said, you knew he couldn’t continue to let your sister off of the hook.

“I really hope this will be the last time,” you whispered.

Officer Barnes frowned, dark brows lowering as he heaved a sigh, sounding as tired as you felt.

“Did you ever think…”

He paused, shifting on his feet before continuing.

“Maybe a few days in jail will do her some good. I mean, what kind of lesson can she learn if you keep bailing her out?”

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t considered it, but you sadly shook your head.

“I can’t do that to her. She’s family,” you quietly replied.

He studied you for a bit before nodding, running his eyes over you with a soft hum.

“No, of course not. You’re too sweet for that,” he said.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, so you simply thanked him again and said your goodbyes. He didn’t move as you got in and drove off, his stare piercing your rearview mirror until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

When you finally arrived home, your sister was barely able to stand at all. You got her as far as the living room before your arms gave out, depositing her onto the couch. After placing a small trash can beside her, you went into the kitchen to make some coffee and put together a little hangover concoction that you’d been using for years.

As she slept off the alcohol, you couldn’t help but to think about Officer Barnes’ words. Not just him admitting that this couldn’t go on forever, something you already knew, but his proposal to let your sister spend a few nights in jail. You had thought about it. That wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t think it’d do any good. It wasn’t that simple. Your sister needed professional help.

You wondered if you could get Officer Barnes or even Officer Wilson to help you out with that. You didn’t think that your sister would react too kindly to an intervention. You suddenly shook your head, telling yourself that you needed to stop relying on them so much. Especially Officer Barnes. 

You’d known them both for years, ever since they moved to the city during your 3rd year of college. They’d been mere officers in training then. You remembered even having a slight crush on Officer Wilson, but that had died the minute they found your sister the first time, wandering around the city drunk and belligerent. You had been so embarrassed, telling yourself that no one in their right mind would get mixed up with a family like yours, no matter how small it was.

Officer Barnes was always the one to find her. He never judged her nor did he ever hint that he was even thinking any kind of negative thoughts. He’d always been much nicer than either of you deserved, and you mentally reminded yourself to bake him some cookies. You suspected that his love for your food was the main reason he let your sister off the hook time and time again.

It was hours later, when you were taking the fresh cookies out of the oven, when you heard your sister stir. You turned just as she stumbled into the kitchen, struggling to open her eyes. You grabbed her a cup.

“I made coffee. It’s not as fresh as I would like it to be but…”

You trailed off, handing it to her. Her eyes were wide open now, and she gratefully took it, gulping it down.

“Thank you,” she breathed as soon as she was done.

The silence was awkward, and the smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. It was an odd picture.

“So,” you started, playing with your fingers. “What was it this time?”

Your sister heaved a sigh, setting her mug down as she leaned against the counter.

“I got fired today.”

Your face fell, shoulders dropping as sympathy tore through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it.

“Don’t be. It beats sleeping with my decrepit former boss,” she scoffed.

Your eyes widened as you registered the implication behind her words, and your heart clenched. You stepped towards her, reaching out.

“Are you serious? T, we should tell someone. File a lawsuit or something-.”

Her laugh cut you off, and you frowned at her.

“Have you met the guy? He has more money than either of us could ever dream of. It’d be a waste of time,” she sneered.

You shook your head.

“You don’t know that. You’re probably not the only woman he’s done this to. I’m sure with the right lawyer-.”

“This is the real world, Y/N? Where those in power take advantage of the rest of us as they see fit,” she told you, making your frown deepen.

Your bit your lip, not exactly agreeing with her but opting to swallow your words. You watched as she neared the pan of cooling cookies and ran her eyes over them with a light scoff.

“Who is this for? Officer Barnes?” she mockingly wondered, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, actually,” you said, ignoring her tone and reaching to get a plate. “Do you want one?”

“You should really stay away from him, you know.”

“Well, that’s kind of hard to do when you keep getting arrested for public intoxication,” you threw back.

You immediately cringed, turning to face her, surprised to find not an offended look on her face, but merely a shocked one. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… He’s a nice man, T. A good man. Much more than we deserve. Anyone else would have put you before a judge a long time ago.”

She chuckled, reaching past you to grab a cookie.

“Gee, I wonder why that is.”

Her tone confused you, and she shook her head at you.

“The guy’s a creep. No amount of friendly smiles can hide that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

You frowned at her words before shaking your head and sliding the cookies onto a plate.

A week later, you were thankful that your sister seemed to be doing better. Normally she needed a month to really get herself together to at least try and get back on her feet again, but her uncharacteristic behavior both shocked you and made you proud. However, when your doorbell rang at almost 1 in the morning, you realized that you had spoken too soon.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

You had swung the door open and come face to face with none other than Officer Barnes and your sister, the latter almost keeled over. She would have been face first into the ground if it wasn’t for the man holding her up.

“Her room is this way,” you told him as soon as you let him in.

She mumbled a few times as he followed your lead, quieting altogether when he placed her on her bed. He made sure that she was on her side, and you heaved a tired sigh as he followed you down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-.”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your shoulder and stopping you.

You turned to face him, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, much quieter this time.

Officer Barnes just stared at you, brows drawn together as he rubbed your shoulder, attempting to calm you down.

���It’s okay-.”

“No, it’s not. I really...I really thought this time would be different. I did.”

“I know you did-.”

“...and there are actual criminals out there who need to be dealt with but instead you’re here dealing with me and my sister again.”

You placed your hands over your face as your voice cracked, and your shoulders trembled as you held in all of the emotions threatening to spill.

“God, all of the cookies in the world can’t make up for what we put you through,” you sighed.

He pulled your hands away from your face, and you looked away from him.

“Hey…”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he let go of one of your hands to place it under your chin. He made you look at him, and his blue eyes searched your face as he smiled at you.

“This is my job. I’m not going out of my way to do anything here, okay? It’s okay.”

You reluctantly nodded before your eyes found the floor again.

“She needs help,” you said, finally admitting it outloud. “Professional help. The 12 steps kind.”

There was a brief silence before the dark-haired man spoke.

“I can help with that, get her into some meetings,” he offered.

“Would you? I...I didn’t want to ask because you do so much for us already, but…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him. He rested his hands on his hips, tilting his head at you with a slight frown.

“Now, Y/N… How long have I known you and your sister? I’m always happy to help you two out in any way I can. You know that,” he told you, lips quirking up just a tad. 

“More than we deserve,” you murmured

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but you continued before he could. 

“Do you want something to drink before you go? I usually make her some coffee,” you offered.

His smile widened as he looked at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t name.

“I’d love to.” 

His steps were light as he followed you into the kitchen, and you wondered if his stealth was just part of the job or if he was always that way. He didn’t say much as you moved throughout the kitchen, opting instead to watch you as you turned on the coffee pot.

“I think I have some leftovers from last night,” you told him.

“I’d love some.”

As you made to fix him some food to take with him, you found yourself humming a bit, a habit. So immersed in your tasks, you’d almost forgotten that he was there until he spoke again.

“You’re going to make some man a very happy husband one day.”

You threw him a smile over your shoulder.

“You sound like my dad,” you complained, thinking of the man who you hadn’t seen in years.

“A harmless compliment, I promise. You’re just so sweet...and you can cook better than any chef in the city,” he elaborated.

“Well, we’ll see what the future holds,” was all you said as you handed him a container of food.

You moved to get his coffee for him when he spoke again.

“Any man would be crazy not to snatch you up and beg you to have his children,” he said with a chuckle.

You joined him, shrugging as you handed him a to-go cup full of steaming coffee.

“That would be nice, but I can’t have kids,” you said.

Officer Barnes’ smile fell, eyes widening just a bit as he blinked. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve dropped his coffee.

“What?” he murmured.

You shrugged again, throwing him a small smile.

“I can’t have kids.”

He looked like he didn’t know what to say, and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you told him, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m not bothered by it anymore. I used to be, but… I figured that some people just aren’t meant to have children, and that’s ok.”

You turned away from him, moving to clean up your mess. You could still feel his eyes on you.

“It’s why I work at a nursery. I love it, and sometimes I think to myself that if I had children of my own, I wouldn’t have time for the dozens I see every day.”

You leaned your back against the counter, facing him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I like to believe that everything happens for a reason.”

Officer Barnes smirked at you, a light chuckle escaping him, face pinched as if he was thinking hard about what you said, dark hair curling around his ear.

“That’s a nice way of looking at things.”

You shrugged, leading him to the door.

“My sister doesn’t exactly share my sentiments, so it’s nice to hear that you do,” you confessed, opening the door for him. “Thank you again, Officer Barnes.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“How many times must I tell you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you said with a groan. “Bucky. It’s a force of habit.”

“Well, I’m kindly asking you to kick it,” he lightly replied as he stepped outside.

“Drive safe.”

He paused, blinking at you before nodding.

“I will, and I’ll talk to someone about getting your sister into some meetings.”

You waved him off, a slight frown overtaking as you heard your sister retching from down the hall. With a sigh, you closed the door and turned to go tend to her like you always did.

The weeks that followed were better, the best you’d had in a long time. True to his word, Bucky got information on some meetings, and surprisingly, your sister agreed that she needed more help than you alone could provide. You drove her to, and picked her up, from every one. You’d always felt like the older sister despite the opposite being true, but it was glaring now more than ever.

Her behavior was improving, and you constantly prayed that it would last. You knew that recovery wasn’t always a smooth journey, plenty of people relapsing, but that didn’t seem to be the case for your sister. She had gotten another job, was keeping up with her meetings, and hadn’t even looked at a bottle of alcohol in weeks. She was just her normal cynical self...until she wasn’t.

You tapped your finger on the steering wheel, watching as the last person left the building. You waited a few moments, hoping that she would be the last person, but she never came out. Hurriedly stepping out of your car, you made your way to someone who hadn’t driven off yet. You could tell that you had startled them by knocking on their window, and you apologized the minute they cracked it. You asked them if your sister was still inside, and your heart sank at their answer.

“She never showed up.”

Your lips parted, brows furrowing as you registered their words. Unsure of how to respond, you simply took a step back, allowing them to drive off. It was late in the evening, and the parking lot was now empty, and you felt helpless as you looked around, as if waiting for your sister to appear.

She had never showed up?

You had dropped her off yourself. You had seen her walk into the building with your own eyes. You wondered if something had happened, something to send her over the edge again, and with a heavy heart, you got back into your car and headed home. You waited up most of the night, expecting a call from the police station or even a knock on your door, but your phone never rang and your door was undisturbed. You hadn’t meant to, but before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Your notifications were just as empty when you woke up the next morning, and your stomach churned as you sat there alone. You had the most awful feeling in your gut, and despite the fact that this should seem like a normal act for your sister, you couldn’t help but feeling like it wasn’t.

Later that day, you drove to the police station. For someone who swore not to rely on Bucky as much anymore, you were doing a poor job of it. He was happy to see you, and that made you feel even worse. Bucky was always happy to help you, and you constantly felt like you were taking advantage of it.

Your worry must have been written on your face though because his smile soon fell. He walked you outside of the station, and you quietly followed.

“It’s my sister,” you immediately said. “She’s missing.”

He eyed you for a bit, eyes narrowing just a tad as he thought. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Are you sure?”

You knew what he wasn’t saying. Your sister wasn’t exactly the most reliable, and absences weren’t unusual for her. He was right to be skeptical.

“They said she never showed up at her meeting. I dropped her off myself, and even if she wasn’t really going, she’d at least pretend like she was. She wouldn’t want me to worry and...and that’s all I seem to be doing,” you murmured.

Bucky placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging them as he attempted to console you.

“Alright. Have you called her?”

“She doesn’t have a cell phone,” you told him. “She can never keep a job long enough to.”

He nodded at that.

“I know that for adults, they need to be missing for at least 48 hours to be treated as a missing persons case. I know that, but…”

You trailed off, and Bucky understood, nodding.

“Hey?”

Your eyes met his, and he sent you a small smile.

“I’ll do what I can. I’m going to find her, alright?”

You gave a shaky nod. He told you to go home and let him handle everything. And thats what you did. The house felt too quiet, and uncomfortable, you started cleaning and cooking. In the midst of all of that, you called your father to tell him what was going on, but it was in vain. As usual, he didn’t answer his phone, and you found yourself wondering if your family was cursed. Your father was too indifferent, your sister too cynical, and you were too nice.

Despite the fact that you felt like you shouldn’t, you went to work. Was it to distract yourself? Oh definitely, but what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t worry until the 4th day had passed and you’d heard nothing from Bucky. He said that he would handle everything, and you trusted him, but you were tempted to go back to the station. However, a knock came on your door one night before you could.

You knew it was him, and you didn’t hesitate to open the door.

“Well?” you anxiously asked, letting him inside.

Bucky’s face was solemn, and you feared the worst, but he simply shook his head.

“Nothing,” he sadly told you.

Your frown deepened, and you frantically blinked away tears.

“Hey,” he quietly said. ‘Hey, none of that, doll.”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe I pushed her too soon. Maybe-.”

“...and maybe it was all her and had nothing to do with you,” he said, lips pressed together as he looked at you.

You slowly nodded at what he said, not quite believing it.

“Maybe,” you murmured, turning away. “I feel like I should be out there, doing something.”

You heard Bucky approach you, and he tsk’d. 

“No, absolutely not. This city is dangerous, and I can’t look for her properly if I’m worrying about you, now can I?” he said, hands resting on your shoulders.

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his soft expression, his baby blues resting on you. You reluctantly shook your head.

“No, I can’t. So the best thing for you to do is sit tight while I try to find your sister.”

“It’s hard. The house...it’s so quiet now. It’s so obvious that she isn’t here, and I hate it,” you whispered. “I’ve never lived alone.”

He hummed, glancing around.

“I don’t have to leave right away. My shift is over, and I could stick around for as long as you want,” he offered, making your heart soar.

“You would do that? I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep me company.”

He grinned at you.

“Never. You just kick me out whenever you get tired of me,” he told you.

You didn’t kick him out. Bucky slept on your couch that night and the night after that and the night after that. His presence was welcoming, comforting, and you found yourself growing used to it. Having known Bucky for years, it was easy to get into a familiar groove with him. He started occupying your couch more and more, and feeling so bad about inconveniencing him all because you couldn’t handle being alone, you usually cooked him breakfast before he had to go to work. 

When he wasn’t at work looking for your sister, he was at home with you. Sometimes he cooked with you, or sometimes he fixed something that had been broken for months. He made missing your sister a little easier. You had faith that he would find her, that he’d bring her through that door, drunk and on the verge of sleep like before.

Still, sometimes, you couldn’t help the dark thoughts that assaulted your mind. What if she never came through that door? What if he never found her? Or worse… What if he did? What if he found her in a ditch somewhere, body maimed and ruined from being dead for so long? Despite how much you tried to remain positive, despite how much you wanted to believe otherwise, what if she was gone? 

This was what woke you up out of your sleep one night, on the verge of a panic attack. Your breathing was shallow, eyes unfocused as you fought to calm yourself. You were startled, a shriek leaving you as you felt something brush your arm. Light flooded your room, and your eyes immediately met Bucky’s as he stood beside your bed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, doll,” he whispered, kneeling beside you. “ I could hear you all the way in the living room.”

“Sorry,” you weakly said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting beside you, facing you as he pulled you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that you were shaking, and Bucky tightened his arms around you.

“What if she’s never coming back? What if she’s dead?” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, rocking you. “Don’t think the worst.”

“But-.”

He shushed you, cutting you off, and you couldn’t fight the tears as they spilled over. His hand brushed over your back, and you closed your eyes as he held you, not taking note of what was happening until his lips met yours. Your eyes flew open as confusion filled you.

You struggled to pull away, but Bucky’s hold was firm. His mouth moved over yours, and your eyes were wide as he kissed you. He only pulled away when you struggled to breathe, and you pressed your hands to his chest immediately.

“Bucky what-?”

“It’s alright. Let me make you feel better. Help you forget,” he murmured, leaning in again, but you turned away.

“No!”

You got out of his grip, scooting back against the headboard, looking at him as if he was a stranger. Bucky was frowning at you like you were in the wrong, and your mind was muddled with so many conflicting thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

He scoffed at you, narrowing his eyes at you like you had offended him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You smile and bat those eyelashes at me-.”

“I-.”

“You invite me into your home. You allow me to stay for as long as I want. You cook me breakfast, hell, we cook together like an old married couple. Are you telling me you intended to just play house forever?”

You were floored, and you flinched as you remembered your sister’s constant words, telling you that you were too nice, too trusting. You stared at Bucky, and you felt like an idiot. More tears sprung forth, and you dug your nails into the palm of your hands. 

“Bucky I…”

You looked down, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that...that there was more to this, but that was never my intention. I’m really sorry.”

You heard him heave a long sigh, shrinking in on yourself as he moved closer to you.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

You looked up at him, and he reached out to touch your chin. The blue of his eyes was a tad darker, colder than you’d ever seen them. 

“I keep forgetting how sweet you are. Too sweet. It’s my fault really, but let me explain how things will work from now on, just so there’s no confusion…”

Your brows drew together, dread swirling in your chest.

“You treat me nice, you be as sweet to me as you always are, and I’ll do everything in my power to find your sister. You don’t...and it’s classified as a simple runaway case.”

You sharply inhaled, mouth dropping open as you registered his words.

“What-?”

“Is that understood?”

He didn’t give you time to respond, pressing his lips to yours again. Your mind was screaming at you to do something, to fight him, get out and go get help. But what if he was telling the truth? Would he really give up on finding your sister if you didn’t sleep with him? Besides, even if you could get away, who could you go to for help? The police was currently pushing you onto your back, lips tasting every inch of you.

Still, you couldn’t help but to fight against him, and Bucky huffed. He paid your trembling hands no mind as he pushed your t-shirt up, fingers trailing over your skin as he did so. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You almost felt like you were looking down on yourself as he undressed, and you barely fought him as he did the same to you. Your breathing was shallow, and you were certain that you were going to pass out.

“Bucky,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

He simply lowered himself, attaching his mouth to you, making you forget your train of thought for a second. He was like a man starved, tasting you until he was more than satisfied. You hadn’t had sex many times, the few times you did it was great, but this surpassed all of those times, something you never thought possible.

Your legs trembled around him, toes curling, and you reached down to press your hands against his head, trying and failing to push him away. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding them in place while he had his fill of you. Your chest arched upwards, and one of your hands pressed against the headboard, attempting to ground yourself, but Bucky seemed determined to make your head spin.

“Bucky, stop,” you begged, voice cracking. “Please…”

Your next words were lost, the only thing climbing out of your throat being a moan. You tried your best to swallow it down as you came, but Bucky’s tongue and mouth didn’t rest, lapping up your juices as you clenched around the pink muscle. You were still coming down when he climbed over you, and you opened your mouth to stop him, beg him, but he pushed into you without warning. 

A gasp escaped you, a groan of his own leaving Bucky as he immediately began to thrust into you. You placed your hands on his chest, lips trembling as he slid into you over and over again. He kissed you again, taking you by surprise, and you stared up at him in something akin to disbelief.

How did you get here? Bucky was your friend, and somehow, here he was on top of you, forcing pleasure onto you that you never asked for.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth.

“Bucky,” you quietly begged.

“I always knew you’d be sweet in bed, making the cutest little noises, all soft skin and soft smiles.”

His words confused you, and it occurred to you that this behavior did not come out of nowhere.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to take you in the back of my cruiser, right there in the station, but you deserved better. You deserved to be kissed like a princess in between your sheets-.”

“Stop,” you begged. 

You wanted him to stop talking. You didn’t want to face how unbelievably stupid and trusting you had been. It hurt too much. He pressed his hips against yours again, his thick cock dragging along your slick walls.

“Your sister wasn’t good for you, doll.”

Your eyes widened as they met his, his brows furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat on his forehead as his hair hung over his face.

“She was nothing but trouble, always bringing nothing but her problems into your life. You were far too nice to do anything about it...so I did,” he told you, not a hint of humor in his blue eyes.

A horrified gasp escaped you, and you continued your struggle. You felt like you’d been punched in the chest, and your vision was completely blurry from your tears now. You were full on sobbing, but Bucky paid it no mind as he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down above your head. Every thrust was a brush against that little bundle of nerves, and you felt yourself clenching around him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he purred. “Come around my cock.”

“No, no, no,” you cried, bucking against him, but only making it worse for you.

Your second climax crashed over you like a wave, and like you were drowning, you struggled to breathe. Bucky’s lips felt like they were everywhere, and soon after, you felt him twitch inside of you, coating your walls as he came too. You couldn’t breathe, and you felt the walls of your room closing in.

“I’m the only one who knows where your sister is,” he murmured after catching his breath. “I’m the only one who knows if she’s even okay.”

Your chest was heaving, and you kept thinking to yourself that not enough air was getting in. Bucky wiped the sweat from your hairline, running his eyes over your spent frame as he caged you in even further.

“So if you want to see her again, you know what you need to do.”

The world finally caved in on you.

Even though you couldn’t have kids, it seemed like Bucky was determined to try. Or maybe he just couldn’t get enough of you. Despite the fact that he had a place of his own, he spent all of his free time at your house. His hands never strayed from you, and it seemed like he was kissing you any chance he got. At night, and sometimes in the morning, he enjoyed the feel of you wrapped around him, milking him as he groaned in your ear.

And what could you do but let him? Now knowing the truth, you wondered if you ever knew Bucky at all. How was it possible to hide one’s true self for years? Constantly? You remembered your sister’s last words about him, calling him a creep, and you wondered if he was that good or if you were simply that trusting? 

He acted as if you were a normal couple. He cooked with you, ate with you, watched tv with you, and even bathed with you. Bucky brought you flowers and gifts and pretty dresses he thought you’d look good in. Every time, you thanked him with a smile and could do nothing but accept it as he undressed you. Every time you asked about your sister, every time you built up the courage to, he always dodged the question, and you wondered how long this would go on.

As it turns out, not long at all.

He came to the house one day, angry and frantic and his eyes were searching for you. The minute he spotted you, he pounced. He was rougher than he had ever been, pinning you to the wall as he thrust into you, hand fisting your hair while the other pressed his fingers into your thigh. You felt like he was going to break you, but Bucky paid no mind to your tears. 

You had made your way to the floor when he finally came inside of you, sweaty and angry and gripping you like he’d lose you. You were trembling in his arms when he lifted his head, and you stared at him like he was going to hurt you some more. You watched as he swallowed, running his eyes over you as he reached up to brush his thumb along your lip.

“Sam and I gotta leave,” he breathed.

You blinked at him, frowning.

“It’s all so sudden, but they found some things, and we have to leave.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you stared at him in confusion.

“...but when it’s safe, I’m coming back for you,” he told you, making your heart sink.

“B-Bucky...my-.”

“You want to see her again, don’t you?”

You nodded, and he nodded with you. 

“Okay. Then you’ll wait for me. You don’t tell anybody what you know, and you wait for me. Tell me.”

Scared to say anything else, and scared that you’d never see your sister again, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whispered through trembling lips..

He kissed you, and that was the last time he kissed you for a long time. You didn’t know how many years had passed. 4? 5? 6? You couldn’t keep track and they all blended together. With Bucky gone, you felt more alone than you ever had before. Had your body grown used to his? Grown to crave his even? The man was your rapist. Was that normal?

The house was too painful for you to remain in, so you moved a couple of blocks over. Every day that passed, you wondered how your sister was doing. You wondered where she was. Some days you missed her more than others, and some days you were angry. Why couldn’t she have told you outright what Bucky was like. Surely, she must have known, known better than you.

Some days you were angry at Bucky, and on more than one occasion, you had even been tempted to tell someone what you knew. You hated him for what he did to you, what he’d done to your sister, putting you both through torment. Most days though, you were just angry with yourself. You felt like you deserved some blame in all of this, for being so naive, so trusting, for having faith in everyone until they proved otherwise. 

Work only distracted you for a short time, and the lonely nights came quicker than you liked. Provided that you were able to find sleep, it was normally after a crying fit. It all felt like a strange sort of limbo, and you wondered how long you were meant to endure it. You started to think that Bucky would never come back, you’d never see your sister again, and once again, you’d be an idiot for believing him. But what other choice did you have?

It was one early morning, the sun still yet to rise, when there was a knock on your door. You were riddled with sleep and practically stumbling to the door, but when you opened it, all of your fatigue was gone. Your wide eyes met familiar blue ones, and you felt like the air was sucked out of you.

His hair was shorter, but he otherwise looked the same. He was dressed darkly, as bulky as ever, and you took a step back when he took a step forward. An unfamiliar car was behind him, and you squinted, recognizing Officer Wilson in the passenger seat. Your eyes fell to Bucky again, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

“Hi, doll.”

~

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#bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #cop!bucky #dark fic #marvel fanfiction